Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 332 Ministry of Magic Diplomatic Mission
10 Downing Street, London.

The Prime Minister's office remained brightly lit, and the green light on the call button flashed at a fixed frequency, indicating that the Prime Minister was still working and might pick up the phone at any moment to call his assistant waiting outside.

The corridor wasn't quiet. Employees who had finished their work were handing over their duties and occasionally being checked and questioned by security personnel. From MI5 to MI6, from government counterintelligence agencies to government foreign intelligence agencies, no one knew which department they were from.

The highest level of security is enforced here. All staff members must undergo rigorous screening, including their identity, background, home address, and even their private phone calls, which may be subject to surveillance by intelligence agencies. Every computer, desk, chair, cabinet, and piece of furniture must undergo at least five security checks to trace its origin and ensure that there is no possibility of it being monitored.

As employees gradually left work and the outside grew quiet, the green light on the phone suddenly turned red. Before the shrill ring could sound, the secretary's assistant answered the phone:

"Yes, that's right, sir..."

The Prime Minister on the other end of the phone informed him that today's business had been completed and that the assistants, advisors, and other unrelated personnel outside could go home, leaving only a few Secret Service agents responsible for security. The Prime Minister wanted to be alone for a while.

The call ended, and the assistant relayed the Prime Minister's order. A few restrained cheers seemed to come from the next office. People packed their things, lined up, and left. The security check machine beeped, and the call light turned yellow, indicating that the signal was temporarily disconnected.

After a busy day, the Prime Minister cut off contact with the outside world and enjoyed the peace and quiet of solitude in his office.

Inside the office, the Prime Minister stared at the dirty oil painting in the corner. It was an unattractive portrait of a short man with a silver wig who looked like a frog and whose eyes seemed unfocused.

The portrait shows a soft cough coming from the mouth:
"To the Muggle Prime Minister, the Ministry of Magic requests an urgent meeting. Please reply immediately, Your faithful Fudge."

The Prime Minister shivered slightly; the February chill in London was biting. He felt his voice tighten: "Well, this is too sudden. I mean, you can't just suddenly propose a meeting at midnight. It's rushed and offensive..."

Do you have any concerns?

“My subordinates are outside, as are intelligence agents. They have equipment and may be able to hear our conversation.”

“We’ve made sure no one or any device is listening in, and even if they are, they’ll quickly forget about it. They’ll just think you took a nap in your office.” The short man urged, “Give me a reply immediately.”

"It's like this again..."

I had met him twice before, once on the night he won the election and once last summer. Those odd guys were rude and difficult to communicate with.

The Prime Minister sighed helplessly, "Alright, alright, I can see him."

Before he could even calm himself down and adjust his expression, flames suddenly appeared out of nowhere in the decorative fireplace. The flames were bright green, and a short, stout figure appeared in the flames, spinning rapidly like a top. It was Cornelius Fudge.

Good evening, Mr. Prime Minister.

Fudge, wearing a yellow-green bowler hat and purple pointed boots on an expensive carpet, dusted off the Filo dust on his clothes and said, "We meet again."

“My intelligence department hasn’t found anything unusual recently, not the eerie cold fog or the missing cargo ships, nothing at all.”

The Prime Minister glanced at him, harboring a deep dislike for the wizard minister. Their previous two encounters had been unpleasant experiences, and he prayed that this time there wouldn't be any more bad news.

"Are you here to tell me that the wizard prisoner has been captured? We can talk about that tomorrow."

"Sirius Black has indeed been captured. In fact, he was caught during the Christmas holidays, and the trial is now over."

Fudge gave a forced smile, trying to lighten the mood. He used to have a condescending attitude when facing the prime minister, but now, as an ordinary employee facing the head of the Muggle government, his mindset was very delicate.

"The affairs of wizard criminals and wizard residents are none of our business; I only care about the normal lives of ordinary people like us."

The Prime Minister slightly raised his chin, looking at Fudge with suspicion. He was a little thinner than before, his complexion was sallow, and his head was balding considerably. As a politician, he was very familiar with this expression; generally, it was not a good sign.

“Your wizarding government should be held accountable for your actions. A serial killer who was imprisoned escaped and it took six months to catch him. If it were me, there would already be protests calling for my resignation.”

"Protests and marches..."

Fudge's smile grew even more bitter. He sat down in the chair at the table and muttered, "If only wizards were this gentle."

What happened? Is there anything I can do to help you?

The Prime Minister took the seat of honor, a meaningless polite remark, a perfunctory response like comforting political opponents and appeasing voters; he had no intention of getting involved in the wizard's troubles.

"The situation is very complicated, and I need to explain it to you slowly."

Fudge's figure was somewhat hunched, and his face was gloomy: "In fact, Sirius Black was innocent. The culprit who blew up the whole street and killed twelve Muggles... that is, you ordinary people, was actually another wizard present, Peter Pettigrew. He threw away his severed limbs, faked his death to escape, and framed Black for the crime. After that, he turned into a rat and hid for twelve years until he was recently discovered."

"what?"

The Prime Minister's mouth dropped open; he was utterly astonished.

“What’s worse, Peter Pettigrew escaped at the last minute before being transferred to Azkaban, and he’s now an escaped serial killer.” Fudge then sighed.

The Prime Minister jumped to his feet, knocking over his teacup. "You...you...you should be held responsible! We must not allow a serial killer to roam our community! You are also responsible for my safety. Didn't you plant Oro...Ober here...?"

"Auror".

"Whatever, just make sure you send more people to ensure our safety!"

“It’s what we should do, but it’s no longer my responsibility,” Fudge said with a wry smile.

"What do you mean?"

The Prime Minister looked at Fouché, and combined with some of the signs from earlier, he had a vague idea of ​​what was going on, and felt a strange sense of sympathy for him.

"Because of my obstruction of Black's trial, I have been dismissed by other officials in the department. Now I am just an ordinary employee of the Department of Magical Accidents and Disasters, and I am also responsible for all the handover work."

Fudge made a face and explained the situation with great difficulty: "I was assigned to come here first to inform you of the latest developments and to introduce you to my successor, as well as several other wizards, who have longer-term plans to discuss with you."

"This……"

The Prime Minister was at a loss for words.

Fudge turned his head to look at the portrait of the short man in the corner.

The man in the portrait was fiddling with a quill pen, listlessly looking around: "Professor Levent is explaining the structure and functions of Muggle government to them, helping them understand the relationship between the royal family and the government. He's currently on constitutional monarchy reform and will be finished soon." "Professor Levent..."

Fudge murmured the name, his eyes filled with complex emotions: "For the past few weeks, Umbridge has been emphasizing to me that he was the mastermind behind the impeachment decision, that he persuaded Dumbledore, pushed forward Wizengamot's proposal, and joined forces with Mrs. Eckmore of the Transport Department. I shouldn't have made things difficult for him when he first arrived in England... Umbridge influenced my decision."

Is "professor" a professional title?
The Prime Minister immediately memorized the name; it sounded like this person was even more influential than Fudge.

"To the Muggle Prime Minister, requesting a meeting. Please reply immediately. Acting Minister Amelia Bones."

"Oh, okay, sure."

Before the prime minister could even remember the name, flames immediately burst into the fireplace, and several wizards emerged from the hearth one after another.

Leading the way was a witch with a square face, thin eyebrows, and a monocle. Her short, gray hair was neat and capable, and she had broad shoulders, a tall and slender figure, and a somewhat imposing presence.

“Amelia Borns, Acting Minister for Magic.”

Ms. Burns extended her hand in a polite greeting.

"Hello."

He's the kind of annoying, pragmatic person you can tell at a glance.

The Prime Minister internally assessed that there were many such officials in the Muggle government, but none of them could reach the top, and they were stuck in one department for life, working themselves to the bone, with their achievements becoming the political accomplishments and merits of people like them.

The second middle-aged male wizard was stern and unsmiling, with brown hair and thick eyebrows interspersed with a few strands of gray. Although he was a little lame, his gaze was so piercing that people dared not look directly at him.

"Rufus Scrimgeour, Chief of the Auror Office of the Executive Division."

When Scrimgeour greeted them, he didn't shake hands. Instead, he walked to the door, tapped on the door and windows with his wand, and the door locks closed completely. The curtains automatically closed without any wind, cutting off any possibility of the office being eavesdropped on by the outside world.

He's a sharp and tough guy.

The Prime Minister noticed that the call indicator light on the table had gone completely off, indicating that the power had been cut off.

The third was also a middle-aged male wizard, thin and ramrod straight, dressed meticulously in a neat, formal robe, with his hair combed perfectly and sporting a small mustache resembling a toothbrush.

“Barty Crouch, Director of the Division for International Cooperation.”

The Prime Minister shook hands, his mind a complete blank. He didn't understand any of the terms "department" or "bureau," and based solely on the literal meaning, he labeled this stern-faced wizard as the Foreign Minister.

The last one was somewhat unexpected for the Prime Minister. He was still a male wizard, and he looked exceptionally young. He was wearing a well-tailored suit, a black and gray striped tie, black hair and black eyes, and a faint smile on his lips, just right, gentle and polite.

If the Prime Minister hadn't witnessed him emerge from the fire, he wouldn't have doubted it, even if Fudge had introduced him as a student at Cambridge Business School.

"Melvin Levent, Professor of Muggle Studies at Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts?"

The Prime Minister recalled the magic school that Fudge had mentioned.

"The focus should be on Muggle research."

Ms. Burns took the initiative, went to the desk, waved her wand, and restored the overturned teacup on the table to its original state. As if in slow motion, the tea splashed back into the cup.
"Professor Levent has been promoting reforms in Muggle studies over the past few years, making wizards throughout the magical world aware of Muggle's potential. More and more wizards are becoming curious about Muggle technology and social systems. We are here today to discuss some small-scale, pilot-scale exchanges and collaborations."

Melvin borrowed the teapot and cups from the desk used for entertaining guests, replaced them with his own Earl Grey Wizard tea, and poured a cup for Ms. Burns, Scrimgeour, and Fudge.

The prime minister stared longingly at the wizards' tea, momentarily stunned, and subconsciously swallowed: "Weren't you here for the wanted criminals?"

“Mr. Prime Minister, Peter Pettigrew is a dangerous Death Eater. The Death Eater movement was disbanded thirteen years ago, and he has no wand. He needs to swim across the North Sea in the body of a rat, and we have spyglasses set up along the coastline.”

Ms. Burns slowed her tone: "If he hadn't been eaten by fish, hadn't frozen to death in the waves, and had made it back to Britain safely, I think he would have just been hiding in the sewers or gutter."

"So you're here to establish diplomatic relations?"

The Prime Minister understood the meaning behind her words, and was both surprised and delighted. His politician's mind instantly connected the dots, leading him to consider all sorts of possibilities: "Diplomacy of the magical world!"

"Stop it..."

Melvin tapped his porcelain cup, the crisp sound promptly interrupting the Prime Minister's reverie: "We do not participate in any political disputes between Muggle nations, provide any military assistance, engage in any intelligence activities, and will not help you deal with any of your competitors."

"So what are you going to do?"

“You can think of us as a remote little country that is extremely far from Britain. We can do some trade with each other without having to worry about transportation restrictions or tariffs. We can use gold or gems as currency.”

Melvin said in a low voice.

The Prime Minister's head buzzed, and he instantly overloaded and crashed.

A magical fireplace, a flying broom, unbelievable magical artifacts... He will become the greatest prime minister in British history, he will become the Magellan of the new era!
As if knowing his thoughts, Melvin tapped the porcelain cup lightly again: "I'm sorry, we can't sell those things. We must abide by the International Wizarding Federation's Secrecy Act, which prohibits the misuse of magical items."

"The Secrecy Act prohibits the misuse of magical items?"

The Prime Minister repeated these two sentences, looking blankly at this person and that person.

"Due to some historical reasons, wizards around the world reached a consensus and formulated the Secrecy Act to help wizards hide their identities and avoid unnecessary trouble. The British Ministry of Magic, as one of the members who drafted the Act, does not allow any disclosure of magic," Crouch explained.

"So how can we cooperate? How can we conduct import and export trade?"

The Prime Minister looked at Melvin, noticing the young wizard's demeanor as if he were the one in charge of this diplomatic effort.

"In some less sensitive industries, such as food processing, home appliances, film and entertainment..."

(End of this chapter)