days at Hogwarts

Chapter 521 Hiss, I need to grow my brain

On the wooden cabinet beside the bed was a cup of warm water that had been forgotten to be drunk and a small Muggle alarm clock. The four-poster single bed next to the cabinet was clearly based on the style of Hogwarts School, indicating that the blonde woman sleeping casually on the bed was still single.

Judging from the few wrinkles around her eyelids, the woman was over thirty years old, but her cheeks still retained some of the innocence of a girl. She seemed to have slept very uneasily, her forehead was slightly sweaty, and a few strands of hair stuck to her tightly furrowed brows.

"what!"

Bertha Jorkins suddenly woke up from her sleep, patted her chest with lingering fear, and gasped for breath: "What a... such a clear nightmare..."

She dreamed that she was trapped in a closed room, and a house-elf was ordered to guard her and walk around her with a sharp knife for cutting beef.

There was an empty chair in the room, and there seemed to be someone sitting on the chair, an invisible but real person, looking at him with invisible eyes...

Jorkins picked up the cold water that had been placed beside the bed overnight and drank it happily. He looked around his home subconsciously, and the furnishings of the room in his dream unconsciously emerged in his mind:
It was a spacious room with expensive furniture and some empty picture frames hanging on the walls.

Only an ancient pure-blood family could create such a magical portrait. I don't know why the owner of the room cut all the drawing paper, as if he didn't want those living portraits to find out anything...

"Dingle bell! Dingle bell!"

The alarm clock rang suddenly, and Jorkins trembled all over. Just as she subconsciously picked up the wand to freeze it, the instructions given by Mr. Weasley when he gave her the alarm clock suddenly emerged in her mind.

"Just press the round button lightly..."

Jorkins murmured, and put his finger on the small button on the top of the alarm clock, pressing it gently - the alarm clock that was vibrating and making a shrill sound stopped, as if by magic.

Jorkins was stunned for a moment, and a strange joy arose in his heart.

This alarm clock was a gift she received when she was rotated to the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department as Mr. Weasley's assistant. She was always losing things and making a mess of the office full of Muggle things. Mr. Weasley couldn't let her stay in the job, so before she was about to leave for the rotation to the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, Mr. Weasley gave her this little gadget.

This alarm clock was indeed very useful and could wake her up in time, but she could never remember the correct way to turn off the alarm, so she had to use a freezing spell or a confusing spell to silence it.

But today...

Jorkins scratched his head and was about to repeat this matter several times and write it down so that he could talk to Mr. Weasley at work. Suddenly he noticed the number the pointer was on. He slapped his forehead and slipped out of bed to get busy:
"Oh no, I'm going to be late..."

A few minutes later, a wooden dining table was placed in front of the open kitchen. On several old solid-colored plates were warm bread, irregularly shaped fried eggs, half-burnt smoked sausages, and cups of milk that had been forgotten to be heated.

Jorkins had changed out of his pajamas into work clothes. He hurriedly folded all the food into a sandwich, swallowed it in two or three bites, picked up the cold milk and gulped it down, then burped.

She waved her wand and used a rough but simple cleaning spell to clean all the dishes. She didn't even put them into the cupboard. She put on her shoes and socks, picked up her handbag, and went out.

Bang!

The wooden door painted white was buckled into the door frame, with densely packed sticky notes on the back, including items that must be brought, unfinished work from yesterday, itinerary arrangements for the next few days, and daily necessities that need to be purchased for the weekend.

A few seconds later, the door opened again. Jorkins came to the fireplace in a panic, grabbed a handful of Floo powder and stood inside.

"Ministry of Magic."

……

"Sorry! Sorry, sorry, please wait a moment!"

Jorkins hurried and finally squeezed into the last elevator before he was late, and went up from the main hall on the eighth floor underground.

With a smile of gratitude and relief on her face, she clutched her handbag and nodded to the people in the elevator car, "Good morning, Mr. Weasley, good morning, Mr. McNeill, good morning..."

Percy looked at the hesitant Jorkins and smiled gently, "Good morning, Ms. Jorkins. I'm Percy Weasley from the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

"Oh, another Mr. Weasley!" Jorkins said suddenly.

"Just call me Percy. It just so happens that I have a document today that I need you to pass on to the minister for a response."

"Oh, okay, okay..." Jorkins, who was working as a handyman in the Minister's office on the second floor, nodded with a serious expression. The next second he turned around and boasted like a child, "Mr. Weasley, I'm telling you, I finally managed to turn off that noisy clock today..."

"Really? Is it useful? Do you think it needs improvement? I have an alarm clock that can use Christmas carols as an alarm..."

"Sounds great!"

"..."

They soon arrived at the fourth floor underground where the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was located. Walton McNeill of the Dangerous Creatures Committee sneered, and it was unclear whether he was sneering at Jorkins or the Weasley father and son, and strode out of the elevator.

Watching the elevator continue to go up, Jorkins looked at the father and son and asked in confusion: "Mr. Weasley, isn't the Department of International Magical Cooperation on the fifth floor underground? Why do you want to continue going up?"

Percy looked at the documents in his hand and was silent for a moment. What should he say? Because he was worried about the foolish Miss Bertha Jorkins, he had personally delivered the documents to the minister's office.

Arthur, a staff member who works in the second floor underground and is responsible for prohibiting the misuse of Muggle items, took over the conversation and said with a smile, "My father and I have some things to discuss, so he needs to go to my office. Can you please give this document to the minister?"

"Dad..." Percy kept winking at him.

Arthur smiled, as if he hadn't noticed anything: "Thank you, Bertha."

"No problem!" Jorkins assured.

As they were talking, the elevator reached the second floor. Arthur grabbed the document and handed it to her, then pulled Percy out of the elevator car. The father and son walked towards the office together.

As the golden gate closed, Percy sighed helplessly, "It's going to be trouble, Dad."

"I know you're worried about Jorkins losing the documents, but did you notice her condition just now? She looks much better and can greet and chat with me normally..." Arthur's voice sounded very happy. He told Percy seriously, "Go sit with me for a while. In an hour, you can go back and look for the documents she wants to sign. If there are any problems, you can make up for them in time."

Percy let his old father pull him away and shook his head. "I can go back to my own office and wait. Mr. Crouch left a lot of work to be done. I..."

"I heard that Amelia Bones has replaced Crouch as the new Director of the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

"Yes." "Then you should leave her some space to handle the work on her own, which will allow her to get familiar with it faster. Let's go..." Arthur muttered to himself and soon talked about what happened in the elevator. "Walton McNeill actually came to work on time. This is even rarer than a mobile phone. In the past, as long as there were no magical creatures that needed to be executed, he would always hang out in the pub drinking and gambling."

Percy frowned slightly. "I've noticed something too. He always goes to the Department of Mysteries. I've seen him taking the elevator down several times when I was delivering documents. Also... people from the Auror Office often appear in the Department of Mysteries."

"This is not right..." Arthur shook his shiny bald head and repeated, "This is not right, this Death Eater is not right, I have to tell..."

"Tell who?" Percy didn't hear clearly, but only got a perfunctory answer from Arthur. He couldn't help but continue to ask, "Dad, what are you and Mom doing recently? I saw you two talking mysteriously in the middle of the night several times."

"You'll know later."

"Why can't you tell me now?"

"..."

……

Ministry of Magic, first basement floor, Minister's office.

dong dong dong.

"Enter."

Jorkins pushed open the door of the minister's office and found that there was not only Minister Cornelius Fudge in the room, but also a senior deputy minister sitting opposite the desk. His clothes were all rich and bright pink, which made his uneven toad face look even more strange. As for his name, she could not remember it.

"Minister Fudge, good morning, and... and..."

When Cornelius Fudge saw the blonde lady who was assigned to do chores in his office, he recalled her glorious resume and frowned slightly with some disdain.

The smile on Dolores Umbridge's face quickly faded, her eyes revealed undisguised disgust, and she spoke sarcastically and harshly in a girl's voice: "It's our forgetful Miss No-brainer, Bertha Jorkins, do you remember what you came to the Minister's office for?"

The shrill sound hurt his ears, and Jorkins, who had no deep memory of the past, was stunned as if he was hearing it for the first time.

So who is she?

Umbridge saw this as another sign of forgetfulness. She glanced at the seal of the Department of International Magical Cooperation on the file bag and sneered, "Bring the documents here. You can't even do the simplest delivery. What's the point of keeping someone like you in the Ministry of Magic? If it weren't for Crouch's recommendation, you would have been fired long ago. Remember, it's not dismissal, it's expulsion...

"No one will recommend you now. I hope you can pass the assessment at the end of the year!"

Umbridge snatched the document roughly, gave Fudge a flattering smile, swiftly unsealed it for him, and handed the document over.

Fudge witnessed everything that happened in the office and remained silent. He looked at the contents of the document and his face darkened. "Another inquiry into the mysterious man. Newspapers and media in other countries require us to give a clear answer! They also want to apply for an interview with Dumbledore and the eyewitness Harry Potter..."

"These nosy, fly-like reporters and everyday people!" Umbridge felt the same pain for the Minister and gnashed her teeth in anger. "Haven't we clarified it a long time ago? These people would rather believe Dumbledore than the official statement of the Ministry of Magic!"

Hearing this, Fudge's face became even uglier.

Umbridge looked at his face, and her smile became even more flattering: "In fact, Dumbledore just intends to make people panic again. He intends to gain power through people's trust in him. Wise Minister, I think you can see it, right?"

"But people are willing to believe him!" said Fudge coldly.

"He played a very cunning trick, and the clever part of this trick was the eyewitness..."

"You mean..."

"Harry Potter!" Umbridge explained patiently, "People are willing to believe in an innocent student, especially when this lucky little boy has a good reputation. He is the nemesis of You-Know-Who, the boy who survived a disaster, and the savior of the world."

Fudge thought for a while. "You mean... we can dispel his false reputation and let people know that he is just an ordinary student, even naughty and playful, who has violated school rules many times and has mediocre grades."

Umbridge had a smile on her face, but her voice was chilling, "As long as this witness no longer testifies for Dumbledore."

"But he is a staunch supporter of Dumbledore, and we can't convince him."

"Perhaps there is a simpler way... You may not know yet, but several Dementors have been born in Azkaban and have not yet been entered into the roster. Didn't Dumbledore doubt that we can't control Dementors? Let's prove it to him..."

"you!"

Fudge was shocked, his expression horrified, and subconsciously looked at the only spectator in the room, but was only met with a pair of blank eyes. Thinking of her brilliant resume and her performance of forgetting even when delivering documents, he heaved a sigh of relief and turned to look at his senior deputy minister.

Umbridge smiled and advised, "As you said, Minister, he is a loyal supporter of Dumbledore."

"No, no." Fudge shook his head repeatedly. The minister who took office in peacetime could not accept such a thing. Even if it was for a fight for the power of Minister of Magic, the cowardly Fudge could not order the murder of a little wizard.

Umbridge's eyes flickered, and the sneer on her lips flashed away. She quickly put on a pretentious girlish smile: "Then we can contact the Daily Prophet to expose Potter's true identity. What do you think of this plan?"

"Let's do this first."

Fudge hastily signed the document and sent Jorkins back.

The senior deputy minister and the errand boy who was assigned to the minister's office walked through the golden gate and took the elevator down. When they passed the second floor, a tall blonde woman wanted to go out. Umbridge laughed at her and said, "You should send the documents to the fifth floor, you brainless Jorkins!"

"oh oh……"

When they passed the fifth floor, the woman froze in her place and did not go down. Umbridge glanced at the dull-looking woman and said in a cold and stern voice, completely different from before: "The Department of International Magical Cooperation is on this floor. Send the documents in your hand over there, stupid Jorkins."

"Oh, oh, okay..." Jorkins trotted out in a panic, even stumbling and almost falling.

Umbridge smiled contemptuously, forgetting what happened a few minutes ago. It was really inappropriate to put such a brainless humanoid monster in the minister's office.

The minister couldn't make up his mind, so she just helped him.

The elevator went all the way down the shaft to the eighth floor underground. Before the gate opened, Umbridge put on her sweet smile again, walked all the way to the fireplace aisle in front of the main hall, grabbed a handful of Floo powder, walked into the fire, and called out in a delicate voice:
"Azkaban."

(End of this chapter)