Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 796: Heading to the Ministry of Magic

Mr. Weasley returned in the early hours of the morning. At eight o’clock, he walked sleepily into the kitchen and took the sandwich Bill handed him.

“Dad, didn’t you just work a late shift last night? Why do you have to go to the Ministry of Magic so early today?”

“I don’t have a choice. The Ministry is severely understaffed right now,” Mr. Weasley yawned. “It’s not just me—Chris, Lupin, who just got married, and even Cedric, who’s only been there for two years, are all swamped. There’s just too much work.”

“That’s way too much,” Fred said, pouring him a glass of pumpkin juice. “Is the Ministry at least paying you overtime?”

“All the funds are being used to buy potion ingredients for treating the wounded,” Mr. Weasley said, taking a sip of his juice.

“So basically, you’re working for free?”

“You can’t look at it that way,” Mr. Weasley shook his head. “It’s a job, not a business.”

George scoffed.

Of course, he understood what Mr. Weasley meant, but understanding and accepting it were two different things.

Not that it was really about the miserable overtime pay.

Hadn’t the Ministry been boasting in The Daily Prophet that they had the Death Eaters’ movements under control?

Then where were the Aurors and Hit Wizards when the attack happened yesterday? They only showed up half an hour later—when everything was already over.

If it weren’t for Kyle using the Phoenix to get them out, there was no telling how many people would have made it back alive.

They’re nowhere to be found when it really matters, but when it comes to work, they’re eager as ever. How convenient.

The more George thought about it, the angrier he got.

Even though he knew that the attack had been completely unexpected and it made sense that the Ministry hadn’t arrived in time… Neither had the Order of the Phoenix. Not even his father.

But that didn’t make it any less frustrating.

Fred felt the same way. On top of that, he was beginning to have issues with Amelia, the new Minister.

No one seemed to have any better ideas, but they couldn’t just keep squeezing the same people dry.

He remembered it clearly—it was five in the morning when he and George had just finished refining the communication coins and were about to go to bed. That was when they heard the door open.

That was when Mr. Weasley had come home.

And now, only three hours later, he was heading out again? That was insane.

But Mr. Weasley himself didn’t seem to mind. He rubbed his forehead, quickly finished his sandwich, took a big gulp of pumpkin juice, and stood up to leave.

“Wait, Mr. Weasley…” Hermione hurriedly finished her breakfast. “Can I go to the Ministry with you?”

“You want to go too?”

Mr. Weasley paused. “Hermione, unless it’s something urgent, I think it’s safer for you to stay here.”

“It’s fine, Mr. Weasley,” Hermione said. “I’m not Harry or Kyle—You-Know-Who probably doesn’t even know who I am.”

“That may be true, but—”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Weasley. If anything happens, I’ll Apparate away immediately.”

Under Hermione’s determined gaze, Mr. Weasley hesitated for a moment before finally nodding.

Hermione was always a strong-willed witch. He figured that even if he refused, she would still find a way to go on her own, which would be even more dangerous. At least with him there, she’d be safer.

“All right,” he said. “But you have to stick close to me. Once we’re in a secure location, we’ll Apparate.”

“No problem,” Hermione agreed with a nod.

The two of them left the house, joined by Sirius and a few of the other Weasley children.

Bill and Charlie had a different task—they needed to patrol the area to make sure no Death Eaters were lurking nearby.

Fred and George, on the other hand, were heading to Diagon Alley. They were determined to reopen their shop.

Mrs. Weasley didn’t look happy about it. Her face was tight with disapproval.

Ever since the Death Eater attack on Diagon Alley, she had been against Fred and George continuing their business.

Last time, they were lucky—they hadn’t been in the shop when it was attacked. The Death Eaters had only been able to vent their rage by destroying the place.

But what about next time?

What if they were there?

It wouldn’t just be the shop that got wrecked—it would be them.

That was why she didn’t want them reopening.

But Fred and George were stubborn. They refused to give up on their dream, no matter what. They’d even had a loud argument about it over breakfast.

And, as usual, the Weasley twins won.

Their reasoning? If the Death Eaters were casting a shadow over the wizarding world, then they were going to bring back the light.

That was enough to get Mrs. Weasley to reluctantly back down, though not without nearly pulling their ears first.

And in the end, they really did succeed.

Diagon Alley was bleak and desolate—except for their shop.

From far away, the vibrant, multicolored sign and the Weasley statue stood out against the grim surroundings. The cheerful music playing inside spilled out onto the street, making it seem almost like a world untouched by Voldemort’s terror.

For a moment, anyone passing by might believe that he had never returned.

That reasoning had convinced everyone.

After they had all left, Mrs. Weasley let out a quiet sigh.

”I really shouldnʼt have listened to them,” she muttered, turning and walking into her room.

At this point, only she, Kyle, and a few students who hadn’t graduated yet remained in the house.

Ron and Harry had originally wanted to go with Hermione to the Ministry of Magic, but the moment they brought it up, Mrs. Weasley shot them down without hesitation.

The reason was simple: they couldnʼt Apparate.

If danger arose, Hermione could escape on her own, but if they went with her, theyʼd be nothing more than dead weight. She’d have to look after them, slowing down her escape.

Mrs. Weasley made a solid argument, and Ron, after stammering for a while, couldnʼt come up with a single good counterpoint. In the end, he could only stomp upstairs in frustration to show his displeasure.

Mrs. Weasley, however, didn’t care in the slightest.

”Well, I’ll head to my room too,” Kyle said five minutes later, standing up from his chair.

”Oh, go ahead,” Mrs. Weasley said with a smile. ”There’s not much going on today. I’ll call you when lunch is ready.”

”Thanks,” Kyle said.

He climbed the stairs back to his room, and the moment he stepped inside, a flash of gold and red lunged at him.

Kyle, as if expecting it, reached out and caught Fawkes’s talons—then vanished from the room.

...

When he reappeared, he was already in the Ministry of Magic’s Floo Network corridor, right behind another wizard. His footing slipped, and he accidentally knocked the man straight out of the fireplace.

”Oh, By Merlin’s beard!” The wizard, startled by the sudden impact, spun around to look at Kyle. ”Who are you? What’s going on?”

”Obviously, I’m using the Floo Network to get to the Ministry,” Kyle muttered impatiently, rubbing his head. ”What were you doing? If you dawdled any longer, the next person would’ve arrived right on top of you.”

Hearing Kyle’s words—and seeing his unsteady steps and the way he clutched his head—the man quickly apologized, ”Sorry, I must’ve zoned out.”

”It’s fine, just don’t do it again.” Kyle popped a sour explosion candy into his mouth. ”It’s best not to linger in the Ministry’s fireplaces—people are constantly coming and going.”

”Ah, I know,” the man said, stepping aside.

”Kyle, over here!” Hermione’s voice rang out from nearby.

She had arrived with Mr. Weasley and had been waiting ever since. The moment she spotted Kyle, she rushed over.

”Let’s talk while we walk,” Kyle said, leading the way toward the lifts.

”Why did you come out of the fireplace?” Hermione asked, puzzled.

Kyle glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice. ”It draws less suspicion this way.”

”But it’s a fireplace. What if—”

”There is no ʼwhat if,ʼ” Kyle interrupted, shaking his head. ”The Ministry’s fireplaces are different from regular ones. They stay extinguished most of the time and only ignite with Floo flames when a wizard arrives. There’s nothing to worry about.”

”Really?”

”Of course.”

As they spoke, they reached the lift area, where a crowd had already gathered, waiting.

”Oh, Kyle, I was wondering when I’d run into you again,” an elderly wizard greeted them. ”I remember you’ve already graduated.”

”That’s right,” Kyle replied. ”I’ve just been caught up with other things and haven’t had time to come in for work.”

”I heard all about it,” the old wizard said. ”You and Scamander went to the Black Forest—that’s a dangerous place.”

”Not as dangerous as Godric’s Hollow yesterday,” a witch interjected as she walked over.

”You and Remus the Auror are close, so you must’ve attended his wedding.”

”Of course,” Kyle said.

”I heard seventy Death Eaters showed up.”

”Something like that, but I don’t know the exact number,” Kyle replied. ”I was rescued early on and wasn’t there for what happened afterward.”

Kyle knew exactly how the people at the Ministry operated. He understood what they were trying to pry out of him, so he cut them off in advance.

Sure enough, as soon as he said he didn’t know, the witch’s face visibly fell in disappointment.

”Ah... Dumbledore saved you. I heard all about it from Lupin.”

Just then, the elevator arrived, and the others quickly crowded in. Kyle, however, stayed back to wait for the next one.

A few minutes later, they finally got an elevator with fewer people. Three wizards carrying stacks of documents entered along with them.

”Kyle, good to see you,” one of them said. ”But youʼve come at a terrible time. Thereʼs so much work lately, I havenʼt slept in two days.”

He pointed to the dark circles under his eyes.

”I’d love to slack off too, but the new Minister won’t allow it,” Kyle shrugged.

”Fair enough.”

The lift soon reached the sixth floor, and the three wizards stepped out together.

”Talk to you later, Kyle.”

”Who was that?” Hermione asked once the doors closed again.

”Watson, from the Broom Regulatory Control Office. We worked together on modifications for the Firebolt,” Kyle answered casually.

”You really do know a lot of people.”

”That’s just how it is,” Kyle said. ”An Assistant to the Minister deals with different departments all the time. Do it enough, and you get to know everyone.”

”Where are we going?”

”Third floor,” Kyle replied.

”To see Mr. Weasley?”

”No, his office is on the second floor. We need to visit another department.” Kyle thought for a moment. ”How’s your Confundus Charm?”

”It’s… alright, I guess,” Hermione said. ”It’s a seventh-year spell, but I’ve already studied it in advance.”

”Then it should be fine. Not that I think you’ll really need it.”

The lift soon came to a stop.

”Third floor: Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, including the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, the Obliviator Headquarters, and the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee.”

Hearing the announcement, Hermione suddenly had a realization.

”Wait, are you taking me to the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee?”

”Exactly,” Kyle said, stepping out of the elevator. ”You’ve always thought they were useless, haven’t you? The best way to find out is to see for yourself.”

Kyle walked forward, and Hermione quickly followed.

This floor was even busier than the sixth, with people rushing back and forth. The hallways were cluttered with stacks of files and miscellaneous items.

Kyle led her all the way to the back, through a heavy oak door, and into a chaotic, noisy open space divided into small cubicles.

They stopped at the far-left cubicle, where a crooked sign hung on the door: Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee.

Just then, a middle-aged wizard rushed out.

”Wait a second, Parrish,” Kyle called after him.

”Sorry, Kyle, no time,” the man turned briefly. ”Mrs. Akaba is fighting with her neighbor over the garden again. I need to get there before she starts using magic—her Memory Charms are absolutely dreadful.”

”No rush. I brought you some help.”

”Help?”

Kyle nudged Hermione forward.

It took her a second to catch on. ”I’m Hermione. Hermione Granger.”

Parrish gave her a strange look. ”You’re sure? This girl wants to work here?”

Then he turned back to Hermione. ”Just so you know, the pay isn’t great.”

”It’s not a job, it’s volunteering, so she doesnʼt need a salary,” Kyle explained. ”She wanted to experience real work for a month before school starts, so I brought her here.”

”You’re sure?” Parrish asked again, his tone even more doubtful.

”I’m very sure!” Hermione said firmly.

”Alright then, come with me.”

Maybe it was because of Kyle’s reputation, or maybe Parrish was just too busy to argue—he didn’t ask any more questions, not even to verify Hermione’s identity. He simply accepted it and hurried toward the lift with her in tow.

Hermione glanced back at Kyle.

”Go on,” Kyle waved her off. ”Try to handle it in one go. That old woman and her neighbor have already had several fights. I’m counting on you.”

And just like that, Hermione found herself thrown into the job—without even stepping foot inside the office first.

...

Once the elevator doors closed behind them, Kyle peeked into the cubicle.

Inside, an older wizard was sorting through stacks of parchment.

He looked up at Kyle. ”I heard everything. So, you found us a new recruit?”

”Just a volunteer. She’ll be gone once Hogwarts starts,” Kyle said, stepping inside and squeezing into the cramped space.

”And her ambition isn’t here. She’s got her sights set on the second floor.”

”The Department of Magical Law Enforcement?”

”Mm-hmm.”

”That’s fine. As long as she’s useful.”

The old wizard kept sifting through the parchments, muttering under his breath, ”Damn Death Eaters, always making a mess. And those idiots setting up traps in Muggle neighborhoods—one even made a bloody swamp. Do they think their neighbors wouldn’t notice?”

”There’s not much we can do. Everyone’s terrified.”

”Yeah? And now we’ve got twice the workload,” the wizard grumbled. Then he looked up. ”By the way, how skilled is that student you brought?”

”Top of her year.”

That got his attention. He finally gave Kyle a proper look. ”Well, then, she might actually stand a chance on the second floor.”

”Alright.” He got up, reached into a drawer, and tossed a small pouch to Kyle.

”What’s this?”

”Your reward for helping out,” the old wizard said. ”The pay here is already low—volunteers get even less. Twenty Galleons a month. Better than nothing.”

”We get paid for this?” Kyle raised an eyebrow.

”Not before. But yesterday, Hogwarts donated a massive batch of herbs to St. Mungo’s, saving the Ministry a fortune.”

”Bones wants to expand the Ministry to deal with the increasing number of Death Eaters. And with all this extra work, we can’t afford to do it for free.”

”That makes sense,” Kyle said, frowning slightly. ”But isn’t she worried about Death Eaters sneaking in?”

”Of course she is. It’s a gamble. Didn’t think she had the guts to take such a risk,” the old wizard said. ”Oh, and make sure the girl gets registered. Every new arrival has to.”

”Where?”

”Auror Office.”