"Six, two, four, four, two… huh, that just happens to spell 'magic' as a word. Subtle as a brick to the face."
Avada—or perhaps he should be called Nathan now—was awkwardly operating the slightly rusted rotary dial with one hand while holding the receiver in the other, though he didn't put it to his ear. As the dial whirred back into place, a woman's cold, emotionless voice rang out inside the telephone booth.
The voice wasn't coming from the receiver. It was loud and clear, as if an invisible woman were standing right beside him.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and the purpose of your visit."
The voice spoke without the slightest inflection.
"Nathan Clarke. Australian wizard. I'm here to handle identity registration."
"Thank you."
The woman's voice continued to echo through the booth. "Visitor, please take the badge and pin it to the front of your clothing."
With a crisp metallic clink, a square silver badge slid out of the coin-return slot. Avada picked it up and saw a line of small engraved text on it:
Nathan Clarke — Foreign Wizard Identity Registration
After pinning the badge to the front of his coat, the woman's voice sounded once more.
"Ministry visitors are required to proceed to the security desk for inspection and wand registration. The security desk is located at the end of the main hall."
The floor of the telephone booth suddenly began to vibrate, slowly sinking into the ground along with Avada. Outside the glass panels, the pavement rose higher and higher, until the booth was engulfed in complete darkness. All that remained was the endless, monotonous, grating sound of metal sliding underground.
About a minute later, a thin streak of golden light appeared in the distance. It gradually widened, growing brighter and brighter—until, when the golden glow became almost dazzling, a vast space abruptly unfolded beyond the glass of the booth.
"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day."
The woman's voice sounded for the last time. With a click, the booth's door sprang open, allowing him to truly step into the Ministry of Magic.
Although Avada had been here once three years ago with Dumbledore—and had even visited the most mysterious and high-level Department of Mysteries—he still couldn't help admiring the resplendent surroundings. More importantly, such a reaction perfectly fit his current identity.
The same long, magnificent atrium stretched out before him: the polished dark wooden floor gleaming like a mirror, the peacock-blue ceiling, the enormous notice board composed of golden symbols, the fountain at its center depicting witches, wizards, centaurs, goblins, and house-elves, and the gilded fireplaces embedded into all four walls…
Compared to last time, however, the hall felt far emptier—quiet and desolate. Hardly anyone was coming or going through the fireplaces, and the few wizards still at their posts were either blatantly slacking off or wearing expressions that suggested they were barely clinging to life. When the telephone booth emerged at the far end of the hall, nearly every wizard turned their head in unison, as if a ray of entertainment had finally appeared in a boring hellscape.
After all, who liked working overtime on Christmas?
"The security desk is at the end of the main hall…"
After reining in his look of awe, Avada muttered to himself as if reinforcing his memory. He glanced around, located the security desk, and walked over at a normal pace.
"Wand, please."
Two wizards sat behind the desk. Their expressions were stiff, their tones utterly flat—nearly indistinguishable from the woman's voice in the telephone booth.
"Here."
Avada handed over his self-made jet-black wand to one of them, who immediately took out his own wand and began inspecting it carefully. The other wizard gave Avada a once-over, frowning.
"You brought luggage with you?"
"Yes. I came straight here as soon as I arrived in Britain. I haven't had time to arrange accommodation yet."
"Then your luggage also needs to be inspected and stored here."
The wizard said this in a thoroughly miserable tone, clearly pained by the sudden increase in workload. Avada felt a twinge of guilt—but there was no helping it. He needed to register with the Ministry the moment this body entered wizarding society, or it could leave behind troublesome loose ends.
In the end, all he could do was give the wizard an apologetic look and hand over the suitcase. The wizard—wearing the expression of a man who had lost all hope—checked the items inside while the suitcase was in "Muggle mode," then tapped it repeatedly with his wand. Before long, he figured out how to switch it to its normal mode and opened the space expanded by an Undetectable Extension Charm.
"You used an Undetectable Extension Charm on this?"
He frowned at Avada. "Using this without authorization is illegal in Britain. Can you provide a permit from the Australian Ministry of Magic?"
"Unfortunately, no. And that's precisely why I had to come here at this time to trouble you."
Avada forced a wry smile. "To be honest, I don't have a formal social identity in Australia either."
"What exactly do you mean by 'no social identity'?"
The wizard's frown deepened. "Where do you live? Which magical school did you graduate from? Where did your wand—and these magical items—come from?"
As he spoke, a hint of vigilance crept into his gaze, his grip on his wand tightening slightly. After another helpless smile, Avada delivered the explanation he had prepared in advance.
"I lived with my teacher from a young age. All of these magical items were given to me by him. Before he passed away, I truly had almost no contact with the outside world…"
"You'll need to visit the Department of International Magical Cooperation."
The wizard cut him off decisively. "They'll handle your case. We're only responsible for security checks. And due to the special nature of your situation, your wand will need to be held here for now. Any other questions?"
"No."
Avada answered promptly, then asked, "How long will I need to wait?"
"I'm checking now."
He pushed the suitcase over to his colleague for inspection. Ignoring the resentful look he received in return, he scribbled a note at high speed and sent it off in a burst of magical flame. Only a few minutes later, another flame appeared in the same spot, this time carrying a reply. After glancing over it, the wizard looked up and nodded at Avada.
"You're in luck. The Department of International Magical Cooperation is usually pretty quiet—and today is no exception. Sixth floor. Come with me."
"Your wand and luggage will be sent over shortly for further inspection, and you may be asked some questions. Please answer truthfully."
"Understood."
Avada nodded and followed the wizard into the elevator.
(End of Chapter)