Whitehall, a street nestled in Westminster, London, stood as one of the most critically important locations in all of Britain. The Muggle governnt center and countless crucial departnts were all situated along this prestigious avenue.
In this place where every single inch of land was worth its weight in pure gold, even constructing a simple toilet would cost millions of pounds. But mysteriously, no one could explain why such a vitally important area would contain a small alley so utterly desolate that no pedestrian had ever walked through it or paid it the slightest attention.
It seed that everyone passing by would automatically ignore this shabby, forgotten alley, completely overlooking the extrely conspicuous red telephone booth positioned inside like a glaring anachronism.
But today, two people shattered this mysterious pattern.
"Don't you think it would be significantly better if we just Apparated directly here?"
Squeezing out from the bustling crowd and entering the small, neglected alley, Evans straightened his formal clothes and looked helplessly at the eccentric old man beside him, who was obviously enjoying this theatrical entrance imnsely.
Dumbledore wore a flowing light gray robe, dramatically draped with a purple cloak that could easily drag along the ground, his magnificent silver hair and silver beard casually scattered, long enough to be tucked into a belt if desired.
Walking confidently down a street where absolutely everyone wore professional suits and ties in such an outlandish outfit, without even bothering to use a basic Disillusionnt Charm... Even now, Evans still vividly rembered those bewildered looks from the confused Muggles.
Their expressions practically scread, asking which historical era this extraordinary old man had traveled from!
But Dumbledore obviously didn't care about social conventions. "Compared to the convenience of Apparition, I still prefer traveling on my own two legs. It gives a genuine feeling that I'm still truly alive."
"But we literally Apparated to this very street!"
Evans couldn't understand this seemingly redundant behavior, but Dumbledore didn't intend to explain his reasoning further. He just smiled mischievously and walked with purpose toward the telephone booth placed conspicuously in the middle of the alley.
Shaking his head in resignation, Evans also followed into the cramped telephone booth, picked up the dusty phone, and pressed the buttons 62442 with practiced precision.
A few seconds later, a distinctly cold female voice erged from the receiver.
"Welco to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your na and business clearly."
"Evans Kahn, here to receive the Order of rlin, Third Class. Accompanying person is Albus..."
Pausing for a mont, Evans looked at the long-haired, long-bearded old man beside him, who chuckled softly and smoothly continued his words.
"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, scheduled to et with Minister Fudge today."
Hearing this impressively long string of nas, the cold female voice obviously paused for several seconds before speaking with noticeably more inflection. "...Thank you, distinguished visitor. Please take the badge and pin it securely to your chest."
As the words fell, after a series of jingling tallic sounds, two official badges slid out from what should have been the coin return slot.
After pinning the badges to their chests alongside Dumbledore, the cold female voice spoke again with official precision.
"Visitor to the Ministry of Magic, you will need to be thoroughly checked at the security desk and register your wand. The security desk is located at the far end of the main hall."
Hearing this standard procedure, Evans nodded with understanding. He knew this requirent was purely directed at him, since Dumbledore was Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and didn't need to have his wand checked when entering the Ministry.
The next second, the telephone booth floor began to tremble ominously, harsh grinding sounds rang out, and the entire booth slowly sank into the ground like a chanical elevator.
But Evans wasn't experiencing this magical descent for the first ti, so he didn't pay much attention to the chanics. Instead, he turned to look at Dumbledore with curiosity.
"Why is the Ministry only thinking of giving an award now?"
Although the official reason for the award was rescuing those hundred-plus Golden Snitches plus the academic books he had written, Evans was very clear that those books were worth considerably more than rescuing Golden Snitches.
"Perhaps, to them, rescuing Golden Snitches has higher political value?"
Dumbledore smiled mysteriously. He seed to be in a particularly good mood today, like a skilled angler who had caught so impressively large fish.
Wait, caught a big fish?
A flash of sudden inspiration crossed Evans's mind, but before he could properly analyze it, the telephone booth's shaking suddenly stopped.
The cold female voice ca again, and simultaneously, the telephone booth door flew open with magical precision.
"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day."
A magnificent hall ca into Evans's view like sothing from a fairy tale. Pure gold statues stood majestically in the center of a circular fountain, the peacock blue ceiling was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols, the walls on all sides were paneled with shiny black wood, and gilded fireplaces were embedded in the wood paneling. From ti to ti, a wizard would erge from a fireplace and walk listlessly toward a row of golden doors on the other side of the hall.
It had to be said that in terms of pure luxury, the British Ministry of Magic was obviously the most extravagant among all ministries worldwide. If placed in the Muggle world, such a golden and splendid governnt office would be enough to make all citizens wonder where exactly the national budget was being spent.
When the telephone booth door fully opened, Evans saw a short man in a pinstriped suit walking quickly toward them with obvious urgency.
"Good morning, Albus. I've been waiting for you for quite a long ti." After smiling obsequiously at Dumbledore, Fudge turned to look at Evans with forced politeness. "And Professor Kahn, good morning to you as well."
"Good morning, Minister. I'm here to help Tina with the procedures she needs."
"I know, I'll take you there directly." Saying this, Fudge looked at Evans nearby with bureaucratic efficiency.
"Then Professor Kahn, please wait in the hall for a while. The award ceremony won't begin for another half hour. I'll also be attending personally."
Having said this, he left the hall with Dumbledore, their voices fading as they walked away.
Leisurely wandering around the opulent hall for two minutes, Evans finally walked to the wand registration area, knocked on the desk, and woke up the wizard whose body was at his post but whose soul was clearly sleeping.
"Give your wand... Evans?" The wizard first groggily raised his head, then his eyes showed a trace of genuine surprise.
Looking at that familiar face, Evans was also sowhat surprised. "Isaac? Aren't you from the Ghost Office? How did you end up here checking wands?"
"Old Ham took the day off, so I'm covering his shift for a day. You know, our departnt doesn't have much to do anyway." The man smiled helplessly at Evans and took the wand he handed over. "What are you doing at the Ministry?"
"Receiving an award. They notified half a month ago," Evans said.
Hearing this, the man was stunned for a mont. "An award? Oh, is it the one Ms. la applied for? To comnd rescue actions and contributions to protecting magical creatures?"
"Ms. la?" Hearing this completely unfamiliar na, Evans frowned slightly. "Who is that?"
"You don't know her?"
The man across from him looked very surprised.
"She's the Deputy Director of the Beast Office. Since she's the Director's sister, she has quite a bit of power."
"I thought you knew Ms. la, which was how she could help apply for this dal!"
"No, I've never heard of her," Evans shook his head.
"Well, maybe she was quite impressed by your animal rescue actions?" The man shrugged, operated the machine beside him, handed the wand back to Evans, and looked at the parchnt strip the machine had produced.
"Twelve and a half inches, unicorn tail hair core, correct?"
"Yes, thank you."
Taking back his wand, Evans bid farewell to his acquaintance and turned around, frowning again.
He felt sothing was definitely off about this entire situation.
Soone he'd never t had applied for an Order of rlin, Third Class, for him?
Combined with the flash of inspiration he'd had earlier, Evans rubbed his chin thoughtfully, a contemplative expression appearing on his face.
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