I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 406 Department of Mysterious Matters

The statue is surrounded by many wall lamps, which emit a soft light, making the entire hall warm and mysterious.

The hall's floor was made of dark wood, carved with various intricate patterns, and towering stone pillars lined both sides, inscribed with mysterious symbols and magical spells.

"Is this the Ministry of Magic?" Owen recognized the place at a glance.

That statue is so famous, it's in the newspapers every day.

Harry recognized the place too; he had seen the statue in the newspaper as well.

"Yes, this is the Ministry of Magic," Dumbledore replied, then led the young wizard around the group of office workers.

They took a different route.

Then it stopped at a security checkpoint.

"Good morning, Mr. Eric," he said to a wizard in front of him who was wearing a peacock blue robe and had a very unshaven beard.

"Security check," the man said casually, holding up the Daily Prophet.

When he put down his newspaper and saw who it was, he was indeed startled.

"Dundumbledore?" The wizard named Eric stared in shock at the person before him.

His Adam's apple bobbed, and he murmured, "What...what brings you to the Ministry of Magic?"

The question was jarring, as if Dumbledore shouldn't have been there.

However, considering the current relationship between the Minister of Magic and Dumbledore, his reaction is understandable. After all, he is just a nobody, and if he gets involved in the conflict between the two, he will not have a good ending.

"I have something to discuss with Mr. Crouch. Oh, and I've brought two guests with me," Dumbledore said, gesturing to Owen and Harry behind him.

"Of course—you should have spoken to the minister a long time ago," Eric said slowly.

"Um—sir, there are departmental regulations that require me to..." He suddenly hesitated, becoming flustered, holding a long, thin, and resilient gold rod in his hand, like a car antenna.

"Security checks, I know, and I respect the law," Dumbledore said.

He himself doesn't need to be checked; that's for the two young wizards.

But what puzzled Irving was that the principal's office should have a filament network leading directly to the minister's office, so why were they openly using the front door?

Did the principal really have a falling out with Barty Crouch?

Even the Flying Network is down?

Eric nodded to Dumbledore, then swept the golden rod across Dumbledore and Harry's chests and backs.

"Ahem—young man, the Ministry of Magic does not allow you to bring any items with the Infinite Stretch Charm," he said to Owen.

"You can give me your things first, and come back to pick them up when you leave."

He didn't dare ask Owen whether the Infinite Stretch Charm item was legal.

Because it wasn't his responsibility, but he couldn't let Irving bring anything in; that was his duty.

"Alright—" At Dumbledore's prompting, Owen reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a cloth bag.

Eric took it and placed it in the cabinet next to him.

"Next up is the wand," he said.

Harry handed over the wand.

The wizard placed his wand on a strange-looking brass machine, resembling 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.

"Eleven inches, with a phoenix feather core, and it's been used for four years. Is that right?"

"That's right," Harry said nervously.

"I'll keep this." Eric stuck the parchment note onto a small brass nail. "You take this back." He shoved the wand into Harry's hand and then looked at Owen.

"Here you go." Owen pulled out his crystal wand.

Eric's face turned pale at just one glance. He glared at Owen, wanting to say something, but after glancing at Dumbledore, he swallowed back what he was about to say.

"A normal wand, not the fake wand you bought at the Magic Tricks shop."

Upon hearing this, Owen didn't explain. He waved his wand slightly, and a stream of water flowed from the tip of the wand. The water then turned into mist, and snowflakes began to fall above their heads.

All explanations were futile. Seeing this, Eric frowned slightly and then took the wand from Owen.

I took a closer look.

He was certain that the crystal that made up forty percent of the wand wasn't some kind of wand cover, but was genuinely embedded in the wand itself.

With a sense of doubt, he placed the wand on the machine.

A few seconds later, a piece of parchment was spat out.

As he read the words above, his brow furrowed even deeper.

"Length: Unknown? Staff core: Unknown? Staff shaft: Unknown? Duration of use: Unknown?"

"Well, well—maybe it's time to upgrade your machine," Owen said casually. "You might not know, times have changed! The materials used for wands are all over the place now, and the equipment needs to be upgraded every few years."

Owen's words did not ease Eric's frown. He cautiously asked, "Are you sure this is a wand?"

"Of course, what else could it be but a fire poker?"

"But—" He was caught in a dilemma, and just then, he suddenly felt that the little wizard in front of him looked very familiar.

His attention had been focused on Dumbledore, and all he could think about was that the other man should leave as soon as possible.

Only after this unexpected event occurred did he have the mind to examine the young wizard in front of him.

"You are—that Frenchman Rozier!" He finally recognized the world's youngest therapist who had been frequently featured in newspapers recently.

He then returned the wand to Owen.

"Alright. You can go in now." Eric handed two silver guest badges to the young wizard.

The issue of the wand is something he would never allow to pass to an ordinary person, but with Dumbledore present, he hesitated.

Upon learning the identity of the 'girl' in front of him, he immediately made a decision.

How can someone who can save hundreds of lives be a bad person?

It is certainly not a wise move to offend people over something so simple right now.

"Thank you!" Owen put away his wand and immediately started walking inside.

Hmm—I always felt that the wizard's gaze towards him was strange.

After a short delay, Dumbledore led them through the gate.

They arrived at a smaller hall with at least twenty elevators, blocked by exquisite gold-framed doors.

The three of them walked over.

The Ministry of Magic officials nearby immediately made way for an elevator.

Everyone stared at Dumbledore in shock.

I don't know what he's doing here.

"Hmm? Albus? What are you doing here?" Just then, an old witch with wrinkled skin, white hair, and an age of at least 150 years walked over.

She looked so old that she no longer had any distinctive personal features, such as hair color or face shape. Apart from her still bright brown eyes, she looked almost exactly like a 150-year-old man on the street.

"It's been a long time, Lady Gershilda Marchban." Dumbledore seemed pleased and went over to give the old witch a warm hug.

"It's been a long time. You've been very busy lately. I heard the Federation has recently introduced many new laws. Well—if you ask me, it's long overdue for reform." The old witch's behavior was quite different from other wizards when facing Dumbledore. She was more casual and showed no restraint whatsoever because of the old headmaster's prestige.

"Yes, keeping up with the times. The magical world is changing every day now," Dumbledore said with a smile, then waved for the two young wizards to enter the elevator.

"Ninth floor, Department of Mysteries," Dumbledore said after entering the elevator.

"Oh—you're here because of what happened last night too?" Lady Gershard Marchban looked at Dumbledore with surprise, after all, this headmaster never got involved in power struggles and had only visited the Ministry of Magic a handful of times.

"Hmm—I suspect this matter is related to the mysterious person," the principal said bluntly.

"Good heavens! A mysterious man has broken into the Ministry of Magic? What does he want?" Lady Gerselda Marchban exclaimed, her aged face turning deathly pale, but she forced herself to remain calm. "The Department of Mysteries has too many dangerous magical artifacts. You know [that thing] is there..."

"So I'm coming here myself," Dumbledore said. "If necessary, I'd like to take [that thing]."

"Crouch will not agree," Gershard Machiban said.

"That thing is not the property of the Ministry of Magic. As its custodian, you have the right to take it away and hand it over to anyone."

"I wish I didn't have this power," sighed Ms. Gershard Machiban, the heavy responsibility threatening to crush her.

The elevator was descending rapidly.

Owen and Harry stared at the two people in front of them, puzzled, wondering what kind of riddle they were speaking of.

Fortunately, they didn't talk much, because the main hall of the Ministry of Magic was on the eighth floor underground, and the Department of Mysteries on the ninth floor was only separated by one floor, so it was quick.

With a "ding," the elevator doors opened.

Then a cold female voice rang out, "Ninth floor, Department of Mysterious Matters, including the Brain Hall, Space Hall, and Execution Hall."

Ms. Gershilda Machiban did not separate from them, but walked together into the other dimly lit corridor.

This is the Department of Mysterious Affairs. All I see are black tiled walls, empty and bare, with no doors or windows. At the end of the corridor, there is only a simple black door leading to the Department of Mysterious Affairs.

The corridor was lit by torches, and there was a gap on the left side of the corridor that led down to the tenth floor.

After entering the gate of the Department of Mysteries, there is a huge circular room. Everything here, including the ceiling and floor, is black, with some candles emitting blue flames adorning the walls.

The hall has twelve handle-less black doors, each leading to a different hall, and in each hall, a mystery of life is being explored.

At this moment, the hall was full of wizards.

Judging from their clothing, demeanor, and the badges on their chests, it is clear that these people are not all from the same department.

Aurors, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and the Wizengamot wizard.

The three groups of people gathered here in a grand procession, led by Kingsley.

But at this moment, both Harry and Owen's attention was focused on the huge stone archway standing in the very center of the hall.

It was so huge and ancient, with heavy curtains hanging down, yet light and airy, like a gauze garment.

"Owen—did you hear someone talking behind that stone door?" Harry leaned closer and asked earnestly.

"There is sound," Irving responded.

"You heard that too?" Harry said. "I didn't quite catch what they were saying."

"You don't need to hear clearly," Owen said dismissively. "It's just the screams of my dead enemies."

"Huh?" Harry looked puzzled.

"The Ministry of Magic doesn't have in-depth knowledge of this stone archway, but what they are certain of is that these curtains separate the worlds of life and death. The curtains are a symbol; [outside the curtains] lies the world where the souls of the dead reside. There are similar legends in the Muggle world. In the Gospel of Matthew, it is said that when Jesus suffered and died, 'the curtains of the temple broke in two from top to bottom, the earth shook, rocks crumbled, tombs were opened, and the bodies of many sleeping saints rose again and entered the heavily guarded city,' Owen rambled on."

"You know this too!" Harry exclaimed in shock. "You've read the Gospel of Matthew?"

"All the good adventurers have read it; it records the locations of some ancient ruins," Owen rolled his eyes at Harry. "Do you have to believe in God to read the Gospel of Matthew?"

"Okay, you're right."

Meanwhile, Dumbledore had already stepped forward and was whispering to Kingsley.

The other wizards present were all surprised by his arrival.

The people whispered amongst themselves, and soon their voices drowned out the sound of the curtains.

"Yes—someone saw the soul of the Silent Broderick Bode pass through the veil. It was Gilbert Wimpple, a member of the Experimental Spells Committee. He happened to be on his way to the Hall of the Brain that night to have Bode verify a standard spell. He witnessed the tragedy. I have examined his memories, and it is true."

"Of course, it's not impossible that Gilbert Wimpple is a master of Occlumency, but I think that's unlikely." Kingsley frowned as he reported the previous night's events to Dumbledore.

His current position is Deputy Director of the Auror Office, but this may be the end of his career. The Ministry of Magic was raided, an employee was killed, and he also supported Dumbledore.

Needless to say, Barty Crouch will definitely use him as a scapegoat.

"Mr. Broderick Bodle?" Dumbledore frowned. He was an employee of the Hall of Time, an old wizard who was obsessed with the study of time.

However, since the magical world completely banned time experiments, his job became dispensable, and he instead took on office work such as checking whether those who possessed time converters were operating them improperly.

Therefore, in recent years, he has been calling on the Ministry of Magic to lift the laws on time experiments.

And just now—they saw in Harry's memory the soul that Voldemort had devoured.

It was that poor Mr. Broderick Bode.

That's why he rushed to the Ministry of Magic.

(End of this chapter)