บท 26: Chapter 25
Cornelius Michel, Head of the Transgression and Portkey Department
"Who's coming in without an appointment?!" the man rightfully protested as the door to his office began to open. Glancing quickly at the paper on his desk, he found the list of visitors scheduled for the day.
And there shouldn't be anyone here at this time, meaning Michel had been free to attend to his own affairs. The Minister would have summoned him personally if needed, not come in person. Colleagues would have knocked or at least warned him about their visit. If there were any inspections, he would've been informed... In Cornelius' mind, this visitor was undoubtedly uninvited.
"You needn't concern yourself with that, Mr. Michel. You should be grateful that we even deigned to come here," came an incredibly arrogant and condescending voice, nearly causing the forty-year-old man to choke on air.
"How dare you...!" the official snapped, only to fall back into his seat in frustration.
He recognized the identity of the person who had entered... or rather, the people who had entered. How could he not? They were well-known for opposing the lawful government at every turn.
"It seems your position as department head is well-deserved," Gabor Bathory said with a slight nod, casting a disdainful glance around the room. "We've come to register our travel to Magical Britain, in accordance with the laws you love so much," the pureblood said, his tone dripping with condescension.
"You should have waited in line, gone through the necessary channels. Or do you think you're different from everyone else wishing to travel abroad?" Cornelius found the courage to respond.
"Oh, you're absolutely right. I am different, and significantly so, Mr. Michel. I possess something that you do not. But to avoid offense, as we're well-mannered people, I won't voice what that something is," the wizard said as he stepped in front of Michel. "Are we going to resolve this situation, or would you prefer to make things more complicated? I don't think the Minister would appreciate it if we had to speak with him directly."
"...There's no need. Escalating things isn't wise; we all know where that leads. And so do you, Herr Bathory," the official retorted, taking a subtle jab at the arrogant, yet influential, pureblood. Normally, he wouldn't have dared, but orders from the Minister had been clear. Yet now, they had come to him, not the other way around. This leveled the playing field a bit.
"That's precisely why we've taken the time to visit you instead of handling things in a more... convenient way," the gray-haired man replied calmly.
"Fine... Give me the names of those traveling with you, Herr Bathory," Michel said, pulling out one of the forms and glaring at the pureblood expectantly.
"Besides myself, whose name you undoubtedly know, there's Stefan Gsigor Bathory, Hildegarde Brigida Stahlwolf, Adalbert Friedrich Stahlwolf, Tomasz Karpishin, and Anton Karpishin," Gabor drawled, stretching the vowels deliberately, still casting a haughty glance at the Ministry official.
"As far as I know, you fall under the jurisdiction of other Ministries of Magic, with the exception of Frau and Herr Stahlwolf," Michel said, raising his eyes from the form.
"Don't play innocent. We all understand the complexities of these times. Your insistence, especially now when we've generously cooperated with you... Neither the Minister nor others with vested interests will appreciate it. Perhaps at another time, but not now," Bathory hinted, alluding to the fact that the Ministries of Magic worked closely together. Though these purebloods often liked to call it something else with their lofty language.
"The Minister will be informed of your disregard for the proper procedures established by the lawful government," Cornelius said, more as a formality than a threat. He had already decided what he would do — he'd report everything up the chain, word for word. Let them handle it from there. He was just a small cog, simply following orders.
"Yes. Make sure to mention our visit to him," Hildegarde interjected, seemingly ignoring his warning, her voice filled with indifference. She looked at the official with barely concealed contempt. Michel swallowed his retort. After all, he wasn't in his position for nothing — he knew when it was time to hold his tongue.
"You're registered. You may proceed with your travel using this single-use, pre-tuned Portkey," Michel said, handing over a pen, the tip of which concealed the enchanted portal. "However, I must warn you — if you don't use it within the hour, you'll have to come back. And, unfortunately, I'm on break in about forty minutes," he added with a shrug, internally delighted that these audacious purebloods had shown up at such an inconvenient time for themselves.
Good riddance!
They didn't even follow basic courtesy and left without so much as a goodbye! If they were English, I'd understand, but continental wizards...
Shaking his head, the man pulled out a quill and began writing a report on the event for his immediate superior. Of course, he'd embellish it a little, but he wouldn't distort the truth. The truth was, after all, more favorable to them than to those haughty snobs.
***
"The replacement was worse than I expected," mother muttered as we moved away from the office, heading toward the Apparition Hall, where we could finally leave this place.
"If things keep going like this, I'll stop playing games with that bunch of underdeveloped Muggle-borns altogether. If they were even a little smarter, there might be something to talk about... Now the days of boycotts almost seem like the best times," Anton's father grumbled, speaking for nearly the first time since our meeting today.
"You're exaggerating. There were more serious issues back then, ones our predecessors didn't even want to remember," Hildegarde countered, giving an unreadable glance to a particularly rude Ministry worker who nearly bumped into her while rushing somewhere.
"Perhaps... but things were definitely simpler then. You knew right away who was on whose side," Tomasz's attitude toward politics — especially aristocratic politics, where nothing is ever clear — was frustrating. Mother managed to restrain her emotions, but Stefan and I exchanged meaningful looks.
No, in theory, I could have held back like mother... but childhood is for allowing yourself to do things you won't get away with as an adult.
Meanwhile, Gabor was deep in thought and didn't involve himself in the conversation. Neither did we. Interjecting into the conversation of elders without a good reason is not only impolite, but it also goes against the rules of conduct in my current society.
However, we could certainly continue our own conversation, trailing slightly behind so as not to disturb our parents.
"About our earlier topic... I can count on one hand the students capable of breaking through the wards. And a good third of them are from our house," I shook my head, mentally reviewing each of them.
The Unjoined only had one such person — a seventh-year... But he's always under surveillance. His schedule is monitored, and if he'd done something suspicious, I would've been informed! He's being watched by no fools, and not by clueless underclassmen either. Fifth-years, sixth-years, and even a couple of seventh-years keep an eye on him.
"Could they have developed some new talent?" Gabor suggested. "A young prodigy..."
"You and I have been watching closely," I frowned. "We've tracked magical progress carefully... There's no way a first-year could have done this."
"Why not?" the Hungarian's eyes gleamed slyly. "Maybe some half-blood from an ancient but forgotten line, predisposed to breaking wards and defenses? There are such families. Not with us, but among the French or the Spanish."
"Or perhaps some Frenchwoman fled far away and passed down her skills to a bastard child. Or an artifact, though that's less likely," I added, considering the possibilities. "I need to explore that option. I haven't looked into it thoroughly yet. Besides, none of the half-bloods have spoken French or Spanish... And as far as I know, there haven't been any reports of runaways over the past decade. That would've caused quite the scandal..."
"They could've covered it up. You're distracted today," Bathory glanced at me. "It really would be a scandal, and we'd hide it by any means if it happened on our side."
"Sorry. I'm just exhausted dealing with this bunch of eternal idiots," I said, rubbing my forehead. "Yes, you're right... They could have managed to hide the birth. And sent the child to Durmstrang under a cover story, knowing that Karkaroff wouldn't investigate too deeply. After all, the more half-bloods in the school, the better for him."
"That's another possibility... Look into it. If you need help identifying anyone, just ask. I'll always help."
"But then I'll owe you," I replied knowingly, having been in Stefan's position myself.
"Unburdensome favors, my friend, unburdensome favors," the Hungarian said, spreading his hands with a grin, causing me to let out a sarcastic snort.
Better to owe a favor to my mother — who likely won't demand repayment — than to stick my hand into the lion's mouth. I'm no circus performer to pull such stunts, and that man is the type who makes those circuses possible.
In the meantime, we arrived at an oval-shaped room, which felt noticeably different from the rest of the Ministry. I probably wouldn't have noticed this if it weren't for my lessons with a certain lady, whose teaching style is quite unusual for this day and age. Sometimes, you only understand her lessons a year later, but strangely enough, that doesn't make them any less effective.
"Ready?" Gabor asked, finally pulling himself out of his deep thoughts.
We all knew how to Apparate. Of course, according to the law, Anton and I were still technically underage to be doing it... But since when did we care about Ministry regulations? Learning to Apparate isn't that difficult, especially when you attend a school that's considered one of the darkest, after all.
However, despite the name of the hall, we would be using a Portkey this time. Apparition has its own limits — fundamental ones, you could say. It doesn't matter how skilled or powerful a wizard you are. If you exceed the range, your pieces could end up scattered across the globe.
There's a well-known story tied to this.
In the nineteenth century, there was a wizard, a great one, whose fame was only slightly less than that of today's Dumbledore — perhaps even more powerful than the "Good Grandfather" himself... So, he decided he was so skilled that he could break through the fundamental limits of transgression. He worked on this for a long time.
For ten years, the entire magical world watched him.
And at the crucial moment, when nearly ten thousand wizards from all over the world were watching at two locations — the departure point and the arrival point — he attempted the feat. He Apparated... but only his hat appeared at the destination.
His stunned followers, mostly from southern Italy, searched the world. In the end, they found... pieces of him. His right hand was discovered in the forests of Canada, his left hand in the Sahara, his left leg nearby, in southern Greece, and his right leg had traveled quite far... all the way to the mountains of Everest.
As for his body and head, they were never found. Many theories are still floating around about what happened — some say the wizard survived — but I suspect his bones and skull are lying somewhere at the bottom of the Mariana Trench. It's much harder for wizards to reach there than it is to scale Everest.
...The trigger word was spoken, and as we took hold of each other's shoulders, we began spinning, in that all-too-familiar, but not particularly pleasant, manner.
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