novelcrest Chapter 215 It is my honor
Chapter 215 It is my honor
Chapter 215 It is my honor
On the first day of summer vacation, as dawn broke, Sean slowly woke up in his house on Privet Road.
Outside the window, birdsong rose and fell.
He lay in bed, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the gradually brightening light. Today was his first day in office at the Ministry of Magic.
Sean quickly stood up and put on the handmade suit he had specially prepared for today; the dark blue fabric shimmered in the sunlight. Standing in front of the mirror, he carefully adjusted his collar, ensuring every detail was flawless.
Breakfast was a simple toast and hot tea, brought to me by Bella.
During her time with Sean, her skills underwent a dramatic transformation.
If one day she puts down her wand and just stays at home wearing an open apron and cooking with a spatula, wouldn't that be a good option?
Sean thought to himself.
He quickly finished his toast, blew on his hot tea and drank it all in one gulp. After wiping his mouth with a napkin, he grabbed his briefcase and set off.
Bella then escorted him to the door and saw him off in his car.
However, he hadn't driven far when he encountered someone he knew—Harry Potter.
He was weeding his aunt's yard.
As he wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sweaty arm, he glanced up and saw a car slowly passing in front of him.
The car window was half open, letting in a cool breeze from the air conditioner.
Of course, none of that is the point. The point is that the person sitting in the driver's seat is someone he knows all too well—Sean Phillips.
He froze for a moment, unable to believe his eyes.
It's simply unbelievable.
To avoid making a mistake, he put on the glasses he had taken off and placed on his shirt chest while weeding.
Sure enough, he wasn't mistaken; it was Sean.
Sean noticed Harry weeding in the yard and greeted him with a smile.
Harry really had a tough time.
Sometimes he wondered if Harry were black, would he not have to do all this tedious work?
You should know...
Of course, this is a hellish joke.
Harry was very excited at this moment.
Professor Sean's special visit here must mean something, which means I can return to the magical world and no longer have to put up with the foolish Dursleys.
Just as he was eagerly waiting for Professor Sean to slowly pull over to the side of the road and invite him to get in,
The car showed no sign of slowing down; it carried Professor Sean away from his sight, little by little, until it disappeared completely from his view.
Could it be... that I mistook someone for someone else?
No, that must be Professor Sean.
No one else has such outstanding charisma except him.
So why did it take Harry so long to accept the fact that Professor Sean was just passing through?
He then remembered why Professor Sean looked so familiar.
If that's the case...they must be neighbors.
As Harry was pondering this, the window was suddenly flung open, and his obnoxious cousin Dudley yelled into the house, "Mama, Harry's slacking off! He's daydreaming!"
Then, Mrs. Penny's loud cursing came from inside the house.
For a moment, the courtyard was filled with the warmth of a family.
Meanwhile, Sean also sped all the way to London.
He stopped his car on a desolate little street and looked around. The only buildings on the street looked dilapidated.
A small pub and a dump truck that was almost overflowing.
Sean looked around and, after making sure no one was on the street, walked to the phone booth located on the sidewalk.
This phone booth looks a bit old. The booth is made of sturdy metal and is covered with a thick layer of paint, but after years of wind and rain, the paint has peeled off and revealed some rust.
The pavilion's roof is a semi-circular dome, which should have been made of transparent glass, but it is now covered with cracks and stains, making it appear blurry.
Inside the pavilion, an old-fashioned black telephone hung quietly on the wall, its cord tangled and somewhat messy. Fingerprints and oil stains from previous users remained on the handset.
It's a bit dirty.
Sean thought to himself.
He made his decision; the first thing he would do upon taking office was to have the place renovated.
A simple "clean-up" won't remove the dust and the maggots that feed on the Ministry of Magic.
I can't even imagine it.
If wizards from other countries came to Britain on business and wanted to enter the Ministry of Magic through this passage, but instead saw this scene, what would they think?
Some Americans might think that wizards in the British Ministry of Magic embezzled cleaning fees and used the money to buy fish and chips to feed round-faced, fat Scottish chickens.
That's...maybe.
Sean calmly took out a pair of snow-white gloves from his suit pocket, put them on, and then slowly dialed the numbers "62442" ("MAGIC") on the dial pad.
As the dial spun back to its original position, a woman's cold voice rang out from the phone booth. But the voice didn't come from the receiver Sean was holding; it was loud and clear, as if an unseen woman was standing right beside them.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and the purpose of your visit."
"I am Sean Phillips..." Before Sean could explain why he was at the Ministry of Magic, a woman exclaimed in surprise.
Her voice also became extremely gentle.
"You, you are Mr. Phillips."
"It's me," Sean replied gently.
"Could you please sign your name for me?"
"It's my pleasure."
Sean treated every witch the same.
The voice just fell.
Ding-ling-ling, splash-splash.
He then saw something slide out of the metal chute normally used to push coins. He picked it up: it was a square silver badge that read: Sean Phillips.
"Thank you," the woman said excitedly. "Please take the badge and pin it to the front of your clothes."
She added, "You'll need to go through security and register your wand. The security checkpoint is located at the far end of the main hall."
The floor of the phone booth suddenly began to shake.
Sean slowly sank into the ground.
Sean watched as the sidewalk outside the phone booth window rose higher and higher until finally darkness enveloped him.
He could see nothing but the monotonous, grating sound of the phone booth sinking into the ground.
About a minute passed, but it felt much longer to Sean. A thin golden light shone on his feet, then gradually widened.
The light spread across his body and finally hit his face, forcing him to blink hard to keep the tears from falling.
Damn British transport.
Sean cursed inwardly.
Renovate it?
He now plans to tear down this disgusting phone booth.
Why not replace it with a wall like the one at King's Platform that you can walk through?
He plans to contact a designer later to ask if it's possible to make it happen.
"The Ministry of Magic hopes you have a pleasant day," the woman's voice said.
The phone booth door suddenly opened, and Sean stepped out.
He stood at one end of a magnificent, resplendent hall, his feet resting on dark wooden floors polished to a mirror-like finish, reflecting the hall's splendor.
The ceiling is a deep peacock blue, inlaid with shimmering gold symbols that constantly dance and change, like a vivid aerial bulletin board. The surrounding walls are meticulously covered with glossy black wood panels, and within these panels are numerous gilded fireplaces, exuding an atmosphere of luxury.
Every few seconds, accompanied by a soft "poof," a wizard would suddenly appear from one of the fireplaces on the left. In contrast, lines of people waiting to leave had formed in front of each fireplace on the right.
In the very center of the hall, a fountain stands quietly.
In the center of the circular pool, a group of pure gold statues stand majestically, their size even surpassing that of real people.
The most prominent figure in the statue is a noble-looking wizard, holding his wand aloft and pointing it towards the sky. Surrounding him are a graceful witch, a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf. The centaur, goblin, and house-elf all gaze up at the two wizards with reverence.
From the tips of wizards' wands, the tips of centaurs' arrows, the brims of goblin hats, and even the ears of house-elves, jets of shimmering water shot forth, weaving together a magnificent spectacle. The air was filled with the sounds of splashing and gurgling water, the distinctive spray of apparitions, and the chaotic footsteps of hundreds of wizards and witches.
With the usual gloomy look on their faces, they strode towards a row of golden doors at the other end of the hall.
Sean joined the crowd, squeezing forward among the Ministry of Magic staff.
His appearance did not attract the attention of those around him, or rather, the people going to work in the morning had only one thought in their minds—how wonderful it would be if the earth were destroyed.
Among the crowd, some people were carrying piles of rickety parchment, some were carrying tattered briefcases, and some were reading the Daily Prophet as they walked.
As Sean passed the fountain, he saw many glittering silver shiko and bronze nat at the bottom of the pool, and a small, stained sign next to it read:
All proceeds from the Magic Brothers Fountain are donated to the St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Injuries.
As he moved forward, Sean left behind the flow of Ministry of Magic employees heading towards the golden gate.
He stopped at a table on the left, under a sign that read "Security Check".
A wizard wearing a peacock blue robe and with a very unkempt beard sat in the chair.
As they approached, he looked up and put down the Daily Prophet.
"I have an appointment with Minister Fudge," Sean said calmly.
"Come this way," the wizard said listlessly. As Sean approached, he hesitated and asked, "Are you Mr. Phillips?"
"it's me."
"Oh, have a good day." He still looked listless.
The wizard raised a long, thin, and flexible golden rod, like a car antenna, and swept it across Sean's chest and back from top to bottom.
"A wand." The security wizard muttered to Sean, put down the golden object, and held out his hand.
Sean handed over the mahogany wand that hadn't been used much.
The wizard threw it onto a strange-looking brass machine that resembled a single-pane balance.
The machine began to vibrate slightly. A narrow strip of parchment swiftly emerged from a slit at the bottom. The wizard tore the parchment off and read the words on it.
"Thirteen and a third inches, the core is Veela hair, used for two years. Right?" He glanced at Sean with an unsurprising look.
He seemed to understand why his wife and daughter were so obsessed with Sean; it might have something to do with his magic wand.
"That's right." Sean nodded calmly.
"I'll keep this," the wizard said, sticking the parchment onto a small brass nail. "You take this back." He shoved the wand into Sean's hand.
"Thanks."
"Can you sign your name for me? Just sign it on..." the wizard suddenly said, then rummaged around in his pocket and found a colorful candy wrapper that he had forgotten to throw away after eating it. "Sign it on this candy wrapper."
"sure."