Hogwarts Outsider

It’s the afternoon, and the Prime Minister is alone in his No.10 Downing Street office, savoring a delightful afternoon tea while skimming through a stack of lengthy reports.

The contents of these reports slip through his mind, leaving no trace.

However, his main concern is waiting for an important call from the president of another country across the strait.

The call’s significance makes it impossible for him to focus on anything else.

Technically, this call should have come five minutes and twelve seconds ago, but the other party’s tardiness is perplexing.

The Prime Minister can’t help but wonder if the president’s secretary is assisting with a particularly stubborn zipper.

The Prime Minister’s current situation is marked by considerable stress, largely due to his predecessor—a bellicose woman who brought nothing but conflict and decline to the country.

His tenure has been marred by challenges: waning national influence, a faltering economy, and a parliamentary majority reduced to a mere 18 seats.

The recent approval of the “Maastricht Treaty” has become a weapon for political opponents to wield against him, and he can’t shake the image of their triumphant faces.

Rumors circulate that the Prime Minister is on the brink of a nervous breakdown, spending ample time hiding in his closet and contemplating resignation.

Some even claim he has drafted a resignation letter addressed to the Queen.

Though the Prime Minister has scoffed at these rumors, deep down, he knows they hold some truth.

…

The more the Prime Minister dwells on his situation, the more irritable he becomes.

He opens a new report, but the sheer length of it prompts him to toss it into the wastebasket as if it were mere scrap paper.

He stretches his arms above his head, daydreaming of when this grim predicament will come to an end.

Just then, a faint cough emanates from behind him.

The Prime Minister is taken aback, recognizing that cough—it’s one he’s heard before.

Slowly, he turns to face his empty office. “Hello?” he cautiously inquires.

The Prime Minister believes that, as a Briton, he should maintain seriousness and composure.

For a brief moment, he prepares himself for the possibility that no one will answer.

But a voice promptly responds, firm and resolute, as though reciting a rehearsed statement.

The voice matches the one he associated with the initial cough.

That first cough came from a frog-like, short man depicted in a grimy oil painting in a corner of his office—a peculiar portrait that had become a source of mockery among his staff.

“To the Muggle Prime Minister.

We require an emergency meeting.

A prompt response is advisable.

Yours sincerely, Bagnold.”

With these words, the frog-like man in the portrait gazes at the Prime Minister, awaiting his reaction.

“I have a very important call to attend to, a call from a president across the ocean… one that may impact the fate of our nation…” the Prime Minister pleads. “If it’s a call from other European heads of state, I don’t believe it’s necessary to answer.”

The little man shrugs. “Well, I wouldn’t be the one to decide… the Minister has arrived.”

With that statement, a bright green flame suddenly dances to life in the stone fireplace.

From it emerges a stout woman with a round chin, short black hair, and an impatient expression.

Upon first glance, the Prime Minister is unimpressed.

He finds it difficult to muster any genuine welcome for the woman before him.

After all, she’s a female politician, and in his view, female politicians are the most loathed creatures in the world.

Furthermore, she exudes a sense of strength—an attribute that terrifies him.

Strong female politicians are, in his eyes, the most fearsome creatures around.

Lastly, she’s an outsider (at least in comparison to the Prime Minister), with astonishing powers—a creature that would be the stuff of nightmares even in his dreams.

So, even in his dreams, the Prime Minister is haunted by the idea of the frog-like man in the portrait coughing again.

But this is precisely what he expected.

Since the day he assumed the role of Prime Minister, this bizarre sequence of events has played out on their first encounter.

That fateful night feels like yesterday, as clear as if it had just happened.

It’s a memory that will likely haunt him for the rest of his life.

At that time, in this very office, he had stood alone, celebrating the victory he had long dreamed of and planned for.

Suddenly, he heard a cough behind him and discovered that the ugly portrait was speaking, announcing the impending arrival of the Minister of Magic.

Naturally, he had thought that the grueling campaign had finally driven him mad.

But when he witnessed the portrait speaking, he was plunged into sheer panic, even though it didn’t reach the level of terror he felt when a wizard emerged from the fireplace and shook his hand.

The Prime Minister is rendered speechless for a moment, as it seems that this experience was merely a hallucination brought on by campaign-induced sleep deprivation.

However, when he saw the portrait speaking again, he knew he couldn’t deny reality any longer.

Millicent Bagnold addressed him with kindness, explaining the existence of the wizarding world and reassuring him that the Ministry of Magic would keep it hidden from Muggles.

After the detailed introduction, she left as suddenly as she had arrived, leaving the Prime Minister to grapple with the surreal experience.

The Prime Minister tried to dismiss it all as a dream or hallucination brought on by lack of sleep during the campaign, but his attempts were in vain.

He even attempted to have the ugly portrait removed, only to discover that it was firmly affixed to the wall, resisting all efforts to dislodge it.

Even carpenters, architects, art historians, and the Minister of Finance failed in their attempts.

…

“I believe the war has begun, Prime Minister,” Minister Bagnold hastens to say.

“War?” The Prime Minister exclaims, flustered. “But I abhor war… and the monster who could incite a war vanished from this world two years ago…”

“I’m not referring to a war among Muggles,” Bagnold clarifies. “This is a war between Wizards and Muggles.”

“Wizards… and Muggles… at war…” The Prime Minister stammers in disbelief. “When you last visited, you did mention… that Grindelwald is the greatest wizard in the world…”

“That was before,” Bagnold responds. “I never expected Grindelwald’s ideology to be so insidious and deeply hidden. Time is running out, Prime Minister.”

“War…” The Prime Minister momentarily forgets the term.

He springs to his feet but soon settles back down.

“Just a moment, what is a war between Wizards and Muggles like?” he inquires softly.

“I don’t know,” Minister Bagnold admits, shaking her head. “It might involve controlling thoughts, altering memories, and other such methods. I can’t say for sure, but I believe they will act soon. As the leader of the Muggles, you will likely be their primary target.”

The Prime Minister’s legs tremble, and he feels a sense of impending disaster.

“What should I do?” he pleads, seeking guidance from the witch before him.

Minister Bagnold glances at him critically. “Is your secretary trustworthy?” he inquires skeptically.

“I trust him with my life and wealth!” the Prime Minister boasts. “He’s highly capable, twice as efficient as anyone else.”

…

Suddenly, Ian, the middle-aged man wearing a suit who serves as the Prime Minister’s secretary, produces a peculiar wooden stick.

“Avada Kedavra!”

A brilliant green light erupts in front of the Prime Minister, a light so terrifying it makes him fear for his life.

However, the target of this lethal spell isn’t him; it’s Minister Bagnold.

The former Minister of Magic slumps lifeless to the ground, his eyes wide open.

The Prime Minister stumbles backward, collapsing to the floor.

In his dazed state, he realizes the unthinkable—his secretary, the capable and shrewd Ian, is a wizard.

“You… you’re… you’re a Wizard,” the Prime Minister stammers in disbelief.

A red light flashes, and he falls into unconsciousness.

In the office’s fireplace, flames dance once more.

The secretary retrieves his wand and directs a piercing gaze at a man in black who steps out of the fireplace.

“You let the Minister escape!” he accuses harshly.

“Apologies,” another wizard offers. “I didn’t expect him to use the private channel between the Minister of Magic and the Muggle Prime Minister to alert the Muggles. Trying to connect the Floo Network to the Muggle Prime Minister’s office took some time.”

“Is everything under control at the Ministry?” the secretary demands.

“We’re managing,” the other wizard replies. “While there are a few radical rebels, most are cautious. Edgar and Amelia Burns are under house arrest, and Scrimgeour is relatively stable. We have the situation well in hand.”

“Good,” the secretary nods.

He raises his wand again, aiming it at the Prime Minister who has regained consciousness.

“Impedio!”

The Prime Minister, though conscious, is now vacant, his once-bright eyes dulled and empty.