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[HP] Chapter 166: Heading to the Ministry of Magic
🕑 Added 2025-09-12 17:14:09 +0000 UTCAfterward, Louis and Dumbledore left the Dursleys’ home together.
As for the cracked floor, the damaged walls, and the utterly ruined front door—under Dumbledore’s repair charms, everything returned to its original state.
“Mr. Wilson, your performance truly surprised me.” Dumbledore asked as they stood by the roadside. “Where did you learn all of that?”
“Some of it came from books at school—like the Potter family’s shampoo,” Louis replied casually. “As for judging the Muggle currency, that was just my own guesswork.”
He was telling the truth, so he wasn’t afraid of being caught out.
“Amazing,” Dumbledore said with genuine admiration. “Your insight and wisdom far exceed what I had expected.”
“So, in the Headmaster’s eyes, I used to be nothing more than a schoolyard bully?” Louis raised a brow.
“Hehe…” Dumbledore gave no direct answer, but the meaning was obvious: Louis had a reputation, and Dumbledore knew it.
Who else was responsible for the Hospital Wing handing out so many calming draughts last year?
Just then, an owl swooped down, landing shakily in front of Louis. From the way it trembled, it looked to be the same one as before.
“Look at this, Headmaster. Thanks to you, I’ll probably be expelled now—two straight violations of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery.” Louis handed the letter to Dumbledore. “Do you have anything to say about that?”
“Oh, my apologies. I’ll see to it.” Dumbledore smiled, taking the letter. “Would you like to come with me to the Ministry of Magic?”
“The Ministry? To wipe away my record?” Louis asked.
“That’s part of it,” Dumbledore replied. “The other part concerns Harry’s guardianship compensation. It requires discussion with the Ministry—ideally with the Minister himself.”
As he spoke, Dumbledore carefully watched Louis’s expression. When the Minister was mentioned, a fleeting trace of disdain crossed Louis’s face.
“You know the Minister of Magic?” Dumbledore asked.
“No. Never met him, never even heard of him.” Louis shook his head.
“Then it’s time you did. Handling things directly through the Minister will be simpler.” Dumbledore reached out, gripping Louis’s shoulder. “Bear with it—it might feel uncomfortable.”
Before Louis could respond, their figures twisted, swallowed by a single point, vanishing from sight.
It was Louis’s first time experiencing Apparition.
As a form of magical teleportation, Apparition was notoriously difficult and dangerous. One careless moment, and the caster risked “splinching”—leaving part of the body behind.
Half the torso gone while the rest appeared elsewhere—something like that.
Though the magical principle prevented a bloody mess, over time it could still be fatal without prompt treatment.
That was why beginners rarely tried long-distance Apparition, let alone carrying passengers.
Even for the skilled, the sensation wasn’t pleasant.
When Louis and Dumbledore reappeared on a London street beside Whitehall, Louis couldn’t stop himself from gagging dryly.
This was normal for a first Apparition—unrelated to physical fitness. The body was essentially crushed into a pinprick, then forced out elsewhere. The only cure was adaptation; if symptoms were too severe, St. Mungo’s had entire wards for treating Apparition sickness and Portkey nausea.
“Impressive,” Dumbledore said with some surprise. “I thought you’d look much worse.”
“Still feels awful… ugh!” Louis gagged again.
The inhuman sensation of being stuffed into an infinitely small point and squeezed back out was unbearable.
“Your reaction is quite good, actually. It seems you’re well-suited to learning this magic,” Dumbledore praised.
“Perhaps.” Louis quickly steadied himself thanks to the restorative power of the Horse Talisman. “The Ministry still open at this hour?”
“Normally no. But lately they’ve been working overtime. A new law requires the leadership to await results around the clock.” Dumbledore continued, “Arthur Weasley—yes, the Weasleys’ father—is heading that effort, overseeing the seizure of dangerous Muggle-related items.”
Louis knew of this. In the original timeline, the so-called “Muggle Protection Act,” aimed at banning dark artifacts, infuriated Lucius Malfoy. Arthur Weasley, who pushed it forward, became Malfoy’s target—and the two even brawled in Flourish and Blotts.
It was during that scuffle that Lucius slipped Tom Riddle’s diary into Ginny Weasley’s cauldron, setting off the entire second book’s chain of events.
Malfoy, that devious old fox.
Dumbledore led Louis across the road and into a dingy side street. The place looked rundown, a shadowy corner of the city center. Graffiti covered the walls, chaotic and crude.
At the end of the street stood a shabby, rickety telephone booth—so dilapidated no sane Muggle would step inside.
“This is the only way into the Ministry from the outside. Normally, wizards prefer the Floo Network.” Dumbledore pulled open the booth’s door. “You know about the Floo Network?”
“I’ve read about it. A peculiar form of travel. But if it’s a network of fireplaces, could it reach Muggle homes too?” Louis asked.
“Usually not. But some Muggle homes do remain connected—perhaps a legacy from former wizarding owners, or illicit connections made by wizards. As long as secrecy is maintained and Muggles aren’t harmed, it’s rarely enforced.”
Dumbledore closed the booth door and pressed a sequence of numbers: 62442.
“As long as you dial the letters spelling ‘MAGIC,’ this telephone booth will take us directly to the Ministry,” he explained.
At once, Louis felt himself lurch downward, the booth plunging like an elevator at breakneck speed.
Fortunately, it didn’t last long. Soon they arrived at their destination: a polished hall gleaming like a train station concourse.
But instead of waiting areas, the sides of the hall were lined with fireplaces.
These were the Ministry’s regular entry points. Beyond them lay the wand registration gates, for visiting foreign wizards.
Even at this late hour, green flames flared now and then, and figures stumbled out of fireplaces.
It really was bustling. Was everyone here tied up with that so-called “Muggle Protection” law—one that, in truth, targeted dark magical items?
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