Chapter 364

A/N: Want to read ahead (up to 40 chapters)? Go to my Patreоn and get your early access chapters

https://www.pаtreon.com/HPMan

May the magic be with you! Enjoy!

______________________

I put on my disguise, accelerated to the maximum, and left Hogwarts in just a couple of minutes, immediately activating the portkey and moving to the entrance to the Ministry I knew on the ordinary people side - to the phone box. There's another one, but I'm not going to "wash off."

I quickly reached the phone box and dialed "62442" on an old-fashioned disc machine. You don't have to hold the receiver to your ear - the voice comes from all directions.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and the purpose of your visit."

"Max Stirlitz. I'm going to hurry things up."

"Thank you," the synthetic female voice replied. "Visitor, please take your badge and attach it to the front of your robe."

There was a click from the coin return chute, then a silver badge with the inscription "Max Stirlitz. In a hurry." As I attached the badge and listened to another instruction from the synthetic voice that I would need to weigh my wand, I prepared to descend.

The phone box worked like an elevator, and after a few rather boring moments, I got out into a spacious and long hall with a black parquet floor, black tiles on the walls, and many gilded fireplaces along the entire room. Golden symbols shone on the iridescent blue ceiling, which moved and changed, making the ceiling look like a huge celestial bulletin board. There were quite a few wizards here. A little further on, this long, long hall was divided in two by a circular room that looked like a mine and stretched up a couple of dozen levels from glazed balconies. There was a fountain in the middle of the hall with a sculpture depicting the greatness of wizards, or rather, self-aggrandizement over the rest. But that wasn't where I was going; I was going to a small table with the inscription "Security."

There, at the table, sat a badly shaven wizard of dubious appearance, and he was engaged in weighing wands and writing down. I gave my second wand, and I was registered as Max Stirlitz — so it says on the badge, what could he do?

Going behind an inconspicuous corner, I cast a distracting spell and, taking out a statuette of Rita from my pocket, returned her to the former appearance. She wanted to be indignant, but I restored her decent appearance with a couple of spells, straightening her wrinkled clothes and returning the glasses to the place where they should be.

"Lead on," I said shortly, and Rita didn't dare to be indignant. "And yes, I know you understand, but I'll tell you anyway..."

I was walking next to her, and there was nothing in my hands — the main wand was in a holster, and the second one was in a reduced cane that rests in a special pocket.

"...No nonsense, Miss Skeeter."

A slight volitional impact on the Architect's abilities, and Skeeter's heart skipped a beat or two, causing the woman to nearly pass out, but I held her by the elbow. She seemed to shake off the stray thoughts.

We traveled around the Ministry for at least fifteen minutes either by elevators or on foot, now and then politely nodding to tired wizards in strict suits and robes. In the end, our route ended up with massive double-leaf doors.

"The main meeting room of the Wizengamot," Skeeter explained, glancing warily in my direction. "For organizational matters, this is where they gather. The Heritage Hall is a small open room above the hall, supported by arches. I can't even imagine what you might need there."

Without further ado, I turned Skeeter back into a statue, hiding it in my pocket.

Rowena, can you scout?

A black shadow slid from under my feet and soaked into the floor, and a minute later, Rowena's voice rang in my head:

Excellent. Walk me through the shadow with an apparation — I can screw it up myself. There is protection here, isn't there?

I didn't have to hold on — I just fell into the shadow. From another visual interpretation of the world around me, my head ached a little, but Rowena quickly "spit out" me onto a poorly lit hexagon of the floor, in the middle of which a large quartz crystal stood on a pedestal. It glowed slightly pink, and inside, you could see many thousands of runes woven into intricate contours, moving inside, and it seemed that some appeared and others disappeared as if dying.

Remembering that after the ritual by which I was saved from lycanthropy, the ring of the Head of the House began to appear, as soon as I wished, I used this function. The ring appeared on the ring finger, not particularly intricate and with a somewhat simplified but still recognizable skull against the Black coat of arms background.

Without further ado, I leaned the ring against the crystal, feeling the magical vibrations that had begun. The light slowly flared up inside the crystal — the smallest runes lit up. The light acquired a soft yellow hue, and after a dozen seconds, it changed to green - identification was successful, House Black received their Head in the Wizengamot, although no one knows who exactly. This gives me the opportunity from the point of view of "who has the longest" to argue with many wizards, not allowing myself to be pressured by the official authority. There was a mere trifle left.

I took my bag off my shoulder and pulled out another blank piece of parchment, quill, and ink - no magic would work here. I quickly wrote a simple statement on behalf of "Head of House Black" - just like that, and no other way around. The essence of the statement: "From now on, Maximilian Knight has the right to handle all the affairs of House Black and represent its interests in Wizengamot. Lord Black." That's all, and the imprint of the activated and identified ring of the Head works instead of a signature.

Now I can actually do whatever I need or should do as the actual Head of the House, but at the same time being only its representative, and this is social weight. A representative of myself. Interesting, but most importantly, it works. And what kind of ring I have there — not everyone will understand.