The conference room was deathly silent.
More than a dozen officials from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes had their heads lowered.
Not one of them dared meet Silas Quilden’s gaze.
Some lowered their eyes as if they had suddenly developed an intense interest in the grain of the wooden tabletop.
Others looked out the window, as though the rooftops of Diagon Alley had abruptly become the most fascinating subject in the world.
Quilden’s fingers struck the table twice, hard.
“No one’s talking?
Fine.
Then I’ll ask another way.”
He walked around the conference table and stopped in front of a young clerk wearing round glasses.
“Perkins.
You’re from the Muggle Liaison Office.
Tell me, when did you find out about that book?”
Perkins swallowed.
His voice was as faint as a mosquito’s buzz.
“L-last night, Director.”
“Last night?”
Quilden’s voice rose sharply.
“A book sells tens of thousands of copies in the Muggle world, and you only found out last night?!”
“I-I thought…”
“What did you think?”
Perkins’s face flushed bright red.
“I thought the higher-ups already knew about it and hadn’t taken action, so… so I didn’t dare report it.”
Quilden stared at him for a full five seconds, then turned to another man.
“Weatherby.
What about you?”
Weatherby was a middle-aged wizard in his forties, his hair already beginning to thin.
He rubbed his hands together, his voice carrying a trace of embarrassment.
“I also found out last night, Director.
One of my patrolmen heard people talking about it at the Leaky Cauldron and came back to tell me.”
“Then why didn’t you report it immediately?”
“I…”
Weatherby opened his mouth.
“I thought someone was already handling it.”
“After all, that book has been popular in the Muggle world for nearly two weeks.
I assumed the senior levels of the Ministry must have known long ago.”
“You thought?
You assumed?”
Quilden was practically roaring now.
“Every single one of you is ‘assuming’!”
“You assumed the people above knew.
The people above assumed you had reported it.
And the result?”
“The result is that we, the Ministry of Magic, the highest institution responsible for overseeing the entire wizarding world of Great Britain—became the last ones to know!” Get faster updates on g.com.
He strode back to the head of the conference table, braced both hands against the surface, and breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling.
“Do you know how many calls I received this morning?
The editor of The Daily Prophet called to ask what the Ministry’s position was on that book.”
“Members of the Wizengamot called to ask how the Ministry intends to handle it.”
“Even the Department of International Magical Cooperation called.
They said the French Ministry of Magic has already heard about it!”
The air in the conference room seemed to freeze.
A witch sitting in the corner cautiously raised her hand.
“Director… actually, our department did receive a report earlier.
It was about an unusual gathering phenomenon in the Muggle world.”
Quilden’s gaze snapped toward her.
“When?”
“About… a week ago.”
The witch’s voice grew smaller and smaller.
“The report said that Muggles were suddenly gathering in large numbers at several locations in London, as though they were searching for something.”
“But at the time, we assumed it was some kind of Muggle social activity, so we didn’t pay much attention.”
“Didn’t pay much attention?”
Quilden gave a cold laugh.
“Did none of you send anyone to investigate?”
“We did,” the witch hurriedly said.
“A patrolman went to take a look.
He said those Muggles were all carrying a book and seemed to be trying to find certain places based on what was written inside.”
“But the patrolman thought it was just Muggle popular culture and had nothing to do with the wizarding world, so…”
“So he came back?”
The witch nodded.
Quilden closed his eyes.
For a moment, darkness seemed to swim before him.
His chest rose and fell slightly, as though he were suppressing something.
“Good.
Very good.”
He opened his eyes again, his gaze sweeping over every person present.
“Since all of you now understand where the problem lies, I’ll tell you what you’re going to do next.”
He straightened, his voice returning to calm.
“First, the Muggle Liaison Office is to send people into the Muggle world immediately and collect all available information on that book.”
“I want to know who the author is, how he wrote those contents, and most importantly, whether he is a wizard.”
Perkins quickly took out a quill and began writing.
“Second, the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad is to prepare.
If that book contains genuine magical information, it may lead to imitation attempts among Muggles.”
“I do not wish to see some Muggle break his neck because he tried to fly on a broomstick.”
A wizard in green robes seated in the corner nodded.
“Third…”
“Contact the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and have them assess whether this matter violates the Statute of Secrecy.”
“If it does, we’ll need to begin formal investigative procedures.”
Weatherby raised his hand.
“Director, the author of that book… how are we supposed to find him?
I heard he didn’t even leave any contact details.”
Quilden looked at him coldly.
“You can investigate the publisher.
The printing house.
Every single person who may have come into contact with him.”
“If that author truly is a wizard, he can’t have vanished into thin air.”
“But…”
Weatherby hesitated.
“What if he’s a Muggle?”
Quilden stared at Weatherby and spoke slowly.
“If he’s a Muggle, then the problem is even more serious.”
“A Muggle wrote detailed content about the wizarding world… I don’t need to teach you what that implies, do I?”
Weatherby’s face paled by a shade.
“Meeting dismissed.”
Quilden waved his hand.
“I expect preliminary investigation reports on everyone’s desk before tomorrow morning.”
The officials rose one after another and filed out.
Only Quilden remained standing in the conference room, his brows locked tightly together.
He had a feeling this matter would not be resolved so easily.
Just then, the door of the conference room opened.
His assistant leaned halfway inside, wearing a rather strange expression.
“Director, Minister Fudge’s office just called.”
Quilden’s heart sank.
“The Minister said… he wants you to come over now.”
Quilden’s face stiffened.
He stood there in silence for several seconds, then straightened his tie, took a deep breath, and strode out of the conference room.
In the corridor, several officials who hadn’t yet gone far saw him hurrying past and immediately lowered their heads, pretending to be busy with something else.
Quilden ignored them.
He walked quickly toward the lift and pressed the button for the floor of the Minister’s office.
As the metal doors slowly closed, he cursed under his breath.
“Merlin’s beard…”
…
Meanwhile, in Surrey, on Privet Drive.
The street, usually quiet and sparsely traveled, had recently become strangely lively.
~
Push the book forward by Adding to library and sending powerstones~!