Hogwarts: I am Snape

Chapter 170 Number 10 A young man arrived

In December, London was shrouded in a gray sky, and the falling debris resembled rain or snow, wetting the streets and the clothes and hats of pedestrians.

Outside the iconic black iron fence of 10 Downing Street, an old red taxi screeched to a halt.

The car door opened, and a young man with black hair jumped out of the back seat.

As the young man prepared to pay, the unshaven driver, peering through the car window, gestured with his chin towards the towering gate and fence, and the heavily armed, vigilant guards, and gruffly shouted at the young passenger:
"Hey! Buddy! Come here, I'm going to charge you double the fare!"

Snape didn't mind paying a little more pounds. He noticed that the atmosphere in London seemed a bit gloomy lately.

A hint of confusion crossed his face. As he pulled out some extra bills from his wallet and handed them over, he asked with a touch of curiosity, "Uh, why? Is there something special about this?"

The driver grabbed the money, stuffed it into his greasy shirt pocket, and angrily spat out the window.
"Pah! It's all the fault of those despicable politicians. What kind of bullshit policies did they come up with, talking about 'salary restrictions' and stipulating that workers' annual wage increases cannot exceed five percent!"
"Bullshit! Prices are skyrocketing, hardly anyone's even taking a taxi anymore! Trash, a bunch of bloodsucking scum!"

He got angrier and angrier as he spoke, and rolled up the car window while cursing.

The engine roared, and the taxi sped away, billowing black smoke and kicking up a cloud of muddy foam.

After watching the taxi disappear, Snape slowly turned around and looked at the heavily guarded 10 Downing Street and its guards.

His choice to come here, rather than going directly to the Prime Minister's secret hideout, stemmed from another consideration.

In Snape's view, passively protecting a target was always the worst possible strategy.

Especially in this systematic killing of Muggles by dark wizards, it would be extremely unwise and arrogant to hold the idea that "Muggles are inferior and only need to be passively protected" and completely isolate them from the wizarding war.

Now that the war has reached the heart of Muggle society, seeking their understanding and even leveraging their strengths, such as their organization, intelligence, and operational capabilities, might be a wiser choice.

Therefore, it becomes essential to communicate with the core administrative officers who remain at number 10 and are still maintaining the daily operation of the government.

He turned around again and walked casually toward a narrow alleyway with few people.

After confirming that no one was around deep in the alley, he drew his wand and silently cast an illusion spell on himself. His figure instantly blended into the surrounding gray background.

After completing his disguise, he strolled back to the entrance of 10 Downing Street.

Unaware of the guards' presence, Snape walked through the iron fence as if no one else was there, and headed straight for the famous gate, painted black and adorned with the prominent brass number "10".

Outside the gate stood another armed guard, vigilantly scanning the empty front yard.

Snape stopped at the door and tapped his wand lightly from his sleeve.

"Araho Cave is open."

The door lock made a slight clicking sound.

The guard seemed to have heard something, looked around in confusion, and muttered, "What the hell? The wind is so strong!"

While he was still filled with suspicion, Snape had already slipped inside through the door.

Upon entering the residence, the dark wood paneling and thick carpets create a solemn yet oppressive atmosphere.

Snape moved silently down the corridor. He enhanced his hearing with magic, catching snippets of sound coming from under the cracks in the office doors: telephones ringing, keyboards clattering, and low murmurs of conversation.

After walking up the stairs adorned with photos of past prime ministers, Snape arrived at the upper floor of the mansion.

As I passed an office with a "Mrs. McCann" sign on the door, a woman's slightly boastful voice came from inside: "...Oh, darling, you have no idea, this job is quite stressful, but the pay is really high. I'm one of the few employees here who can type..."

He continued walking, eventually stopping before an unmarked, unusually heavy oak door. The conversation coming from inside caught his attention.

"Would the Prime Minister be safer there? I thought the 10th would be a safer place," a younger, somewhat bookish voice asked.

Another, older, more composed voice, with a distinctly bureaucratic tone, immediately replied:

“Of course it will be safer. We will all be safer without the Prime Minister on the 10th, Bernard.”

Using the same trick again, Snape silently pointed his wand at the lock. A slight click sounded, and the lock sprang open. He pushed the door open a crack, slipped into the room, and gently closed the door behind him.

Inside the room, a middle-aged man with his hair neatly combed and wearing an elegant three-piece suit was sitting on a large armchair, while another middle-aged man wearing glasses and looking somewhat reserved was sitting in a chair diagonally opposite him.

"Bernard, what's going on? The door's open? Go close it." Sir Humphrey's voice carried annoyance at being disturbed.

“Oh, yes, Sir Humphrey.” Bernard responded and stood up, quickly walked to the door, looked at the door with a puzzled expression as if it had been blown open by the wind, checked the lock again, and only turned back after confirming that it was closed properly.

"Make yourself a cup of coffee, Bernard." Sir Humphrey seemed unconcerned about the little incident. He picked up his bone china teacup, took a sip, and did so with composure.

After Bernard sat down again with his coffee cup, Sir Humphrey slowly continued the previous conversation, his voice carrying a sense of superiority as if he were imparting his experience:
“Bernard, this matter is not so simple. According to our generations of experience, whenever such an extraordinary crisis occurs, sending the Prime Minister away from the eye of the storm to ‘avoid the limelight’ often ensures the safety and stability of the true core of the Empire—that is, the machines that maintain the daily operation of the government—as well as the normal functioning of society. It can also effectively prevent chaos, stop divisions, prevent organizational shrinkage and management paralysis, avoid affecting the continuity of work of various government departments, and ultimately weaken the foundation of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.”

"How come..." Bernard looked bewildered. "I've never heard of such an experience before?"

Sir Humphrey took a sip of his coffee and gave a cryptic smile: "You'll know when you become Cabinet Secretary."

Bernard thought for a moment, but still couldn't help but worry, "Then, Sir Humphrey, won't the Prime Minister be in danger?"

Sir Humphrey put down his coffee cup and crossed his arms in front of him. “Danger?” He shook his head slightly, his tone certain. “A prime minister who leaves Number 10 is under the close protection of MI5.”

"They will take a series of extremely complex and secretive measures to fully guarantee the Prime Minister's personal safety, including but not limited to frequently changing locations, using body doubles, deploying multiple armed perimeters, cutting off non-essential communications, and even activating secret fortifications prepared for nuclear war..."

"In short," Sir Humphrey concluded after fluently rattling off a long string of technical terms, "the Prime Minister is theoretically very safe."

"Moreover, historical experience also shows that," he paused, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly, "prime ministers are safe most of the time."

“As for those… um…” He hesitated for a moment, as if searching for a suitable word, “witches? Although they seem to exist only in legends and a few peripheral records, and few people have actually come into contact with them, they are not entirely without a trace.”

"I used to think these were all just medieval fantasies, but a series of recent events... reality seems to be more complicated than that."

Bernard nodded thoughtfully.

“Sir Humphrey,” he said, changing the subject as another worry came to mind, “there’s something else. There have been some serious worker strikes lately, unemployment is rising, wages are limited, and public discontent is running high…”

“Bernard, that’s something politicians should worry about,” Sir Humphrey sighed. “Besides, no one will tell the public the truth about the unemployment rate.”

"Why not?" Bernard asked, puzzled.

"Because everyone knows a simple truth," Sir Humphrey said, "that it will only take a few weeks for the unemployment rate to be halved."

"How do we do it?" Bernard pressed.

“It’s very simple,” Sir Humphrey spread his hands, as if stating an obvious fact, “as long as we don’t pay social security to people who have turned down two job offers, the statistics will look much better immediately. That’s the beauty of statistics.”

Just then, an unfamiliar voice suddenly rang out from the corner of the room.

"A brilliant approach, Sir Humphrey, truly admirable."

Sir Humphrey and Bernard turned their heads sharply, and saw a young man in a dark coat slowly materialize in the shadows in the corner of the room, as if he had solidified in the air.

"Guards! Guards!" Bernard was so startled that he jumped up from his chair and shouted instinctively.

Sir Humphrey tensed up instantly, his face turning pale, but he forced himself to remain calm. His hand, resting on his knee, discreetly reached for the alarm device under the coffee table.

However, Snape was faster. He simply raised his hand, and a small, metallic alarm flew into his outstretched palm.

Under their watchful eyes, he played with it with great interest. Snape's gaze fell on Ser Humphrey's hand, frozen in mid-air: "Is this what you're looking for, Ser Humphrey?"

Bernard's shouts stopped abruptly as he stared in horror at the alarm in Snape's hand. His voice, too, failed to attract any guards; there was no sound from outside the door.

“No sound can get out of here,” Snape said calmly. He slowly raised his other hand, and a slender wand appeared between his fingers. “This is the tool that those legendary ‘witches’ use to cast spells,” he explained. “We call it a wand.”

Sir Humphrey took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He withdrew his hand, which had been frozen in mid-air, straightened his tie, and gestured for Bernard, who was still standing there in shock, to sit down. Bernard practically slumped back into his chair.

"Please have a seat, sir?" Ser Humphrey scrutinized Snape, forcing a professional, polite smile. "May I ask your name? Perhaps calling you 'the witch' is not quite appropriate?"

Snape nodded slightly, walked to the reception area, and sat down on the empty sofa opposite Sir Humphrey.

“You may call me the Wizard, Sir Humphrey,” he said. “Or, Severus Snape.”

“Mr. Wizard Snape,” Sir Humphrey began cautiously, “what brings you to take such a… conspicuous risk to infiltrate the heart of the Prime Minister’s residence?”

He was subtly implying that the other person's behavior had violated some underlying rule.

“At this unprecedented time of crisis,” Snape said, “I have come here to seek cooperation as a representative of the wizarding world that has not yet been conquered by evil forces.”

“Cooperation?” Sir Humphrey raised an eyebrow, full of skepticism. “Is this…is this in accordance with protocol? As far as I know, you have never had much official contact with us over the years. We can’t even fully confirm your existence.”

Snape did not answer directly, but instead gently placed the alarm in his hand on the clean table and casually pointed his wand at it.

A glimmer of light flashed, and the cold metal alarm twisted and expanded, instantly transforming into a lively, squeaking gray rat.
The mouse scurried around on the table in a panic.

Sir Humphrey and Bernard both gasped.

“You may have some doubts,” Snape shrugged, and with another tap of his wand, the rat transformed back into the cold alarm, lying quietly in place as if everything that had just happened was an illusion. “But we are all human.”

“This crisis is not just a persecution of those of you who do not have magic, but it affects two groups of people.” He continued, “In fact, many wizards come from ordinary families in England, but some wizards believe that such wizards are unclean and need to be eliminated.”

“I am not here to show off any magic tricks, Ser Humphrey.” Snape looked directly into Ser Humphrey’s eyes. “As you can see, we possess some abilities that you do not. But remember, we are all, at our core, human.”

"It is precisely because of these subtle yet enormous differences between us that, most of the time, it is the best choice for people from two different worlds to avoid contact and keep their distance from each other."

“Otherwise,” he said with a hint of warning, “others, seeing that I possess such power, will surely covet it and beg me desperately. If I fear the calamity that may befall me, I will surely agree to teach it to them.”

"But this 'skill' cannot be acquired through learning. As a result, those who cannot obtain it will harbor resentment and inevitably harbor malicious intentions. In the end, one of them will be in danger of losing their life."

　Thank you to Little Owl Baby, Reading Travels, Pigs Can Fly, Lin'an Rain Clears Up, Nine Heavens Imperial Thunderclap Enlightenment Venerable, Book Friend 161020161358983, and Book Friend 20230901133318507 for the monthly tickets.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)