Chapter 340: Chapter 340
Saturday, 8:30 a.m.
A small group of people had gathered in the entrance hall of Hogwarts Castle.
Lynn stood at the edge of the crowd with his hands in his pockets, his expression calm.
He was dressed casually today. His robes were the standard school robes, his tie was the one that came with the school uniform, and his shoes were the same dragon-hide boots he wore every day.
Cedric stood beside him, holding a folder containing several sheets of parchment.
His expression was far more serious than Lynn’s. His tie was perfectly knotted, his robes were pressed flat, his leather shoes were polished to a shine, and his hair was neatly combed. He looked as though he had just stepped off the cover of the "Wizard’s Guide to Job Hunting."
The other students were scattered throughout the entrance hall.
Two Slytherins stood beside the wall, far away from everyone else, as though they wanted to draw a clear line between themselves and the others.
Four Ravenclaws were also standing together, whispering among themselves.
For some reason, however, there wasn’t a single Gryffindor present.
Lynn scanned the hall to make sure he hadn’t overlooked anyone.
Perhaps they simply preferred freedom? Lynn came up with a reasonable excuse for the Gryffindors in his mind.
It wasn’t that none of them had been selected. They simply hadn’t wanted to come.
Yes, that had to be it.
"Very good. No one is late."
Professor McGonagall’s voice came from the other end of the entrance hall, interrupting Lynn’s thoughts.
She glanced at everyone gathered in the hall and nodded in satisfaction.
Professor McGonagall withdrew her gaze and turned toward the fireplace at the side of the hall.
It was the largest fireplace in the entrance hall, wide enough to accommodate several people at once. The Hogwarts motto was carved above the hearth: "Never tickle a sleeping dragon."
She bent down and took a handful of Floo powder from a small table beside the fireplace. She tossed the powder into the hearth, and emerald-green flames instantly surged upward.
"Ministry of Magic."
Professor McGonagall beckoned to the group. Everyone hurried over and stepped into the fireplace one after another.
The emerald flames swallowed their figures.
Lynn was the last to enter. He stood before the fireplace, looked at the green flames that were still burning, and stepped inside.
Whoosh—
When the group arrived at the Ministry of Magic through the fireplace, they immediately saw Fudge waiting nearby.
"Welcome, welcome," Fudge said as he walked straight toward them.
He reached out to shake Professor McGonagall’s hand, his gaze sweeping across the students’ young faces while the corners of his mouth maintained a perfectly calibrated smile.
"Minister, I didn’t expect you to be waiting for us here," Professor McGonagall said with some surprise.
The two Slytherins looked even more flattered.
"They are all the future hope of the Ministry of Magic," Fudge declared, his voice suddenly becoming loud and resonant. "Of course I had to come and welcome them personally."
As he spoke, his gaze swept over the students, lingering on Lynn for a fraction of a second longer than the others.
"Come along, then." Fudge withdrew his gaze and turned toward the lifts. "I imagine you must all be impatient."
He led the students awaiting their interviews toward the lifts, introducing each place they passed along the way.
"That is the registration desk," he said, pointing toward a counter on the left side of the hall, where a witch in a Ministry uniform sat with her head lowered, writing something.
"Every wizard who comes here must register their wand, record the time of their visit, and collect a visitor’s badge. Of course—"
He turned back and smiled at the students.
"You don’t have to."
Lynn scratched his head. He had visited this place many times before, yet he had never registered even once.
"The Fountain of Magical Brethren." Fudge pointed toward the golden fountain in the center of the hall.
"A portion of the proceeds collected there is donated to St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Every Sickle, Knut, and Galleon thrown into the fountain becomes a potion in the hands of a healer, bedding for a hospital patient, or an instrument on an operating table. So—"
His tone became more solemn.
"If you have the opportunity to work at the Ministry of Magic in the future, remember to bring some spare change."
Lynn glanced at the fountain.
Its water was so clear that the coins at the bottom were plainly visible. Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts formed a dense layer across its base.
He performed a quick calculation in his head. It was probably enough for St Mungo’s to purchase a crate of bandages.
It wasn’t that he was stingy. It was simply that the people working at the Ministry of Magic didn’t appear to be particularly generous either.
"Level Six houses the Department of Magical Transportation," Fudge’s voice continued to echo through the corridor outside the lifts.
"Level Seven is the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Level Four is the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Level Two is the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
Whenever he mentioned a floor, one of the students would look up with shining eyes.
When Cedric heard the words "Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," his grip on the folder tightened.
Lynn remembered that Cedric’s father, Amos Diggory, was an employee of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.
People continually greeted Fudge as they made their way through the Ministry.
There were uniformed staff members, robed visitors, and employees hurrying past with thick files in their arms.
Whenever they saw Fudge, they would stop, bow slightly, and say, "Good morning, Minister," or, "Hello, Minister."
Fudge responded to each of them in turn.
"Good morning."
"You’re looking well today."
"I read that report of yours. It was very well written."
Lynn watched his effortless manner and thought, This is a politician. No matter what they’re thinking inside, their face always wears an expression that says, "I care about you."
"I rarely come down to the Atrium."
After they entered the lift, Fudge lowered his voice slightly.
"There are too many people here, and they’re all extremely enthusiastic. It always takes me a long time to get away. If I had the choice, I would rather spend that time working."
Lynn thought, Once you step down, let’s see whether they still pay you any attention.
Since no one else was using the lift, every time it stopped, it meant that one of the students had reached the location of their interview.
The lift doors opened and closed, the golden grilles rose and fell, and the students stepped out one after another, disappearing down the corridors.
"Level Four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures..." announced the mechanical female voice from above the lift, utterly devoid of emotion.
"This is my stop."
Cedric stepped out of the lift, turned around, and waved to Lynn.
"See you tonight."
"See you tonight," Lynn replied.
By the time they reached Level Two, which housed the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, only Lynn and one Slytherin remained in the lift.
The two students stepped out, but to their surprise, Fudge followed them.
"Aren’t you going to work, Minister?"
Fudge was taken aback by Lynn’s blunt attempt to dismiss him.
His mind raced, and he quickly came up with an excuse to conceal his embarrassment.
"Since I’m already here, I might as well inspect the work of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. That is also part of the Minister for Magic’s duties."
He walked ahead of the two students and stopped in front of a door bearing a sign that read "Reception Room."
Fudge didn’t knock. He simply pushed open the door and walked inside.
Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the Auror Office, had been waiting there to interview the interns. Both were taken aback when Fudge suddenly barged into the room.
"Minister, what is this?" Amelia Bones asked.
Her voice remained steady, but her gaze swept over Fudge as though she were trying to confirm something.
"I’m inspecting your work. Is there a problem?"
Amelia and Scrimgeour exchanged a look.
If you’re here to inspect our work, why would you come to the reception room instead of our offices?
That was simply ridiculous.
...
The interview process was very straightforward.
At least, it was for Lynn.
He entered the reception room and sat on the chair positioned in the middle of the room. It was a hard wooden chair with a perfectly straight back, making it rather uncomfortable to sit on.
He adjusted his posture, placed his hands on his knees, and looked at the two interviewers seated opposite him.
Amelia sat on the left, while Scrimgeour sat on the right.
Several sheets of parchment covered in writing lay on the table before them. Presumably, they contained Lynn’s file.
Amelia tapped one finger lightly against the parchment.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
"Mr. Lynn," Amelia began, "which department do you wish to join?"
"The Auror Office," Lynn answered with equal bluntness.
When Scrimgeour heard that Lynn wanted to intern as an Auror, he nearly wished he could drag him straight back to the Auror Office then and there.
That wasn’t an exaggeration.
His body leaned slightly forward, his fingers tapped against the table, and his entire demeanor radiated an eagerness that seemed to say, "Let’s go right now."
The reason was simple: the Ministry of Magic was desperately short of Aurors.
On paper, the Auror Office was fully staffed. In reality, however, fewer than half of those positions were occupied by active-duty Aurors.
Some had retired, some had resigned, some had been injured, and others had died.
The training cycle for new Aurors was long, the passing rate was low, and the attrition rate was high. In the past three years, only one person had successfully completed Auror training—Tonks.
The selection requirements for Aurors were simply too demanding. Spellcasting ability, physical fitness, psychological resilience, reaction speed, judgment, and tolerance for stress—every single quality had to be at the highest level.
Most candidates couldn’t even pass the first round of screening. Very few reached the final stage, and those who successfully completed the training were rarer still.
Now, a genius who could be considered among the best in every aspect of the wizarding world had declared that he wanted to intern at the Auror Office.
It would have been strange if Scrimgeour weren’t excited.
However, the proper procedure still had to be followed.
"Tell me why you wish to join the Auror Office."
"Because I want to catch Death Eaters," Lynn replied. "Because I want to make them pay. Because I don’t want to see anyone else die because of them."
The reception room fell silent for several seconds.
"Welcome to the Auror Office."
That made things difficult for the Slytherin who had come to interview alongside him.
Although he hadn’t applied to join the Auror Office, he had chosen a department where he wouldn’t be required to go to the front lines or fight Dark wizards—one where he could simply sit in an office, look up information, and write reports.
However, with the Minister present, both interviewers pulled out all the stops.
Amelia Bones’s questions came like a barrage, each one more precise, devious, and difficult to parry than the last.
"You are operating undercover at a gathering of Dark wizards and must use the Cruciatus Curse to avoid exposing your identity. What would you do?"
The Slytherin’s face instantly turned pale.
His gaze darted between Amelia and Scrimgeour as though he were searching their faces for the correct answer.
His lips trembled before he finally spoke.
"I... I would use it."
His voice was so quiet that he seemed to be speaking to himself.
"But I would try to control its intensity so that the other person wouldn’t be hurt too badly."
Scrimgeour frowned.
Amelia offered no comment on his answer. She merely lowered her head, wrote a few words on the parchment, and then looked up to deliver the next question.
"You don’t have a search warrant, but you hear cries for help coming from inside a private residence and smell a restricted potion. Would you break in illegally?"
The Slytherin answered a little more quickly this time.
"Yes. A human life is at stake, so the rules can be applied flexibly."
Amelia lowered her head once more and wrote several words on the parchment.
"Modifying the memory of a terminally ill Muggle will hasten their death, but failing to do so will violate the Statute of Secrecy. Which would you choose?"
By the time the interview ended and the Slytherin emerged from the room, he looked as though he had been completely drained.
His face was white, his lips were white, and even his fingers appeared white.
He now seriously suspected that his parents held some sort of grudge against the two interviewers.
Otherwise, how could they possibly have asked him such difficult questions?
---
Enjoying the story?
Receive extra updates and read up to 60+ Chapters ahead on Patreon.
Patreon: patreon.com/mrfanfiction140
Happy Reading. Be sure to leave a review!!!
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter