Volume 4: The Sea and the Ship Heading North Chapter 247 The Master Lost
Underground at Whitehall, central London, UK.
The headquarters of the Ministry of Magic, the most core government agency in the entire British wizarding world, is carrying out today's work in an orderly manner.
The main hall of the Ministry of Magic was still as busy as usual. All kinds of wizards and witches appeared in the different fireplaces on the walls, and then disappeared in the elevators heading to the offices on different floors.
Occasionally, you can see a few goblins in Gringotts uniforms walking out of the elevator. They are obviously very reserved when looking around. Even the pride that the goblins have not put away even when they are defeated is carefully hidden, and they are polite enough to the wizards who receive them.
In the Minister's Office, Gris Rosier, the Director of the Affairs , was directing four or five mixed-blood employees with a grim look on his face. They were carrying the same number of parchment files, each half a person's height, and were walking hurriedly towards the elevator hall.
Along the way, the wizards who saw the director consciously made way for a wide path. In this magical world with an extremely strict hierarchy, the first lesson for adult wizards who truly enter society is to distinguish what kind of people can be provoked and what kind of people should not even be offended.
The office director of the affairs office is very different from a regular office director. He is equivalent to the logistics supervisor of the entire British magical community. The person who can hold this position must be a member of a high-ranking pure-blood family and the most trusted confidant of that gentleman. He is a person that 99% of the people in the entire magical community cannot afford to offend.
However, just as Gris led a group of people to the elevator hall , the wizards who had already entered the elevator came out consciously, making room for him and allowing them to go up first.
In the elevator, a fat figure did not move at all, and did not show the same awe-inspiring attitude as the others.
Gris, who was worried about a lot of things, lowered his head and just looked at the pair of feet in exquisite leather boots. His already frowned brows became even deeper.
He thought they were some young people who had just graduated from school and entered the Ministry of Magic. In fact, there were quite a few such people every year. Only after they had suffered could they understand what the social order planned by the gentleman was like.
But just when he had already thought about who would punish this young man with the Cruciatus Curse, he raised his head.
He saw the iconic walrus-like beard, the ever-smiling face, and the plump figure, and Gris's originally frowned brows suddenly melted away like ice and snow waiting for spring to come.
"Aha, Mr. Slughorn, have you just come back from outside?"
Almost two years had passed, and Slughorn hadn't changed much from before. He smiled at the Office Director of the Logistics Department, whose facial expression changed faster than the weather in London after seeing him, and nodded.
"Mr. Banderas, the director of the Spanish Department of International Magical Cooperation, insisted on meeting me at a Muggle cafe in London to discuss the issue of export tariffs on flying brooms. He said he was not used to the atmosphere in our department."
The expression on Gris's face turned sinister for a few seconds.
"Has the Spanish Ministry of Magic still not settled into proper order?"
The elevator had already started moving upwards. The employees who had carried the parchment scrolls with the levitation spell were quite tactful and stood together in the corner, leaving it to two big men in the wizarding world, whose status was second only to that gentleman, to discuss things that, given their bloodlines, they would never be able to encounter in their lifetime.
Slughorn patted Gris's shoulder.
"Don't be so sensitive, Gris. Mr. Banderas is also a pureblood, but he is not used to the atmosphere here. My meeting with him went quite smoothly."
As he spoke, his eyes happened to glance at the files carried by the mixed-race employees, and he asked jokingly as if to ease the atmosphere.
"What large expenditures and incomes are there in the ministry? As far as I can remember, we shouldn't have any large-scale construction activities or welfare distribution during this period."
At this time, the elevator had reached the floor where the document filing was located. Gris gave the employees a cold look, and they immediately understood what he meant. They took the files and left the elevator, ready to file the bills and documents they had just sorted out.
After clearing out the outsiders, Gris's face returned to its gloomy look.
He and Slughorn also walked out of the elevator and headed towards the director's office. There was no one else around.
"There are some big problems in France. I think you will get the news soon, sir."
An inexplicable look flashed across Slughorn's eyes, but he asked in surprise.
"What's going on in France? Isn't that the last place where problems should arise? I just signed a tax-free agreement on all magic items with the French Department of International Magical Cooperation last week, and deeper cooperation is also continuing. What else could go wrong?"
Gris did not answer Slughorn's question first. He returned to the office vigilantly, poured Slughorn a glass of honey water, and then spoke solemnly.
A report was released that was enough to shock the entire British wizarding world.
"The master was defeated by Dumbledore!"
Slughorn, who had just received the teacup, suddenly had his pupils shrink.
There was no falsehood in his reaction. It was impossible for Britain to know immediately what happened in France, especially the fact that Voldemort lost to Dumbledore. All the news had to be blocked first.
It was impossible for Slughorn to contact Dumbledore at any time and anywhere to learn about the latest developments, so he had just learned about this from Gris.
Gris had no intention of concealing anything. Even if the news was blocked, it would not be possible to block someone of Slughorn's status. It was just that he knew some things earlier because of the convenience of his duties.
Moreover, he had been under a lot of pressure recently. Decades ago, he had been a student under Slughorn when he was the head of Slytherin. Because of his family background, he had received a lot of care from the fat walrus. So when he had something to vent to, this once friendly elder was undoubtedly the best target.
"Today is not April Fools' Day, Gris, and this joke is not funny at all."
Slughorn said seriously.
Gris let out a long sigh.
"I wish this was just an April Fool's joke, sir, but the master really has some worrying problems this time."
