Hogwarts: I'm Truly a Model Wizard-Chapter 798: Hermione’s Day

At eleven o’clock at night, Hermione finally returned home after a long day.

The moment she stepped through the door, she made a beeline for the dining table, completely disregarding etiquette or appearances. She grabbed a baked potato and stuffed it straight into her mouth.

"Slow down, there’s plenty more," said Mrs. Weasley, quickly pushing a full basket of baked potatoes toward her and placing the pie she’d saved for Mr. Weasley right in front of Hermione.

"Arthur, what is going on? Does the Ministry of Magic not allow people to eat?" she asked angrily.

Hermione looked like she hadn’t eaten in three days.

"Of course they do. She’s just not used to it yet," Mr. Weasley replied calmly as he picked up another slice of pie, cut it into neat pieces with a knife, and put it in his mouth.

His pace wasn’t slow either, but compared to Hermione, it looked far more composed.

"So what exactly was she doing?"

"The Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee—one of the most tedious jobs in the Ministry," Mr. Weasley explained. "She’s been out all day. Just got back ten minutes ago."

"So what, Muggles don’t have shops that sell food?" Mrs. Weasley still didn’t understand.

"They do."

At that moment, Hermione finally managed to tear her attention away from the potatoes and pie. She took a big gulp of pumpkin juice. "Mr. Parrish bought me fish and chips, but I was too busy logging reports and booking a plumber for Mrs. Figg. I forgot where I left them."

"By the time I’d sorted everything out, it was already half past ten."

Strangely enough, she hadn’t felt hungry while working. It wasn’t until everything was done that she realized she hadn’t eaten in over ten hours.

The sudden wave of hunger had nearly made her pass out on the way back to the Ministry.

"Plumber... what’s that?" asked Ron, who had just come downstairs. "Is that someone who manages swimming pools?"

"No, someone who fixes water pipes," Mr. Weasley answered before Hermione could. "I never knew you needed an appointment for that. Do they send a letter? A telegram? Do you need stamps?"

"Probably a phone call," Harry offered quietly. "Telegrams are a bit outdated."

"Yes, that’s it—telephone," Mr. Weasley nodded. "I even bought one once. It’s in the attic at the Burrow, but sadly I didn’t bring it along."

"Honestly, I think the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee sounds fascinating. If salary wasn’t an issue, I’d be happy to take that job. Though I’m not sure I’d be any good at it."

From Harry’s perspective, the answer was probably... no.

Mr. Weasley might be wildly enthusiastic about Muggle things—borderline obsessed, even—but his basic knowledge was lacking. He couldn’t even name most of the items, only recalling vague descriptions.

If he were put in charge of resolving wizard–Muggle disputes, he’d likely make matters worse. Muggles might end up calling the actual police.

And more importantly, for a man supporting seven children, salary wasn’t exactly optional.

"You don’t need a stamp for a phone call—that’s for letters," Hermione explained patiently.

Mr. Weasley seized the opportunity to ask more questions about Muggles: how lawnmowers worked, what petrol was...

He only stopped when he noticed Mrs. Weasley’s increasingly dangerous glare. "Don’t misunderstand me, Molly. I’m just worried about Hermione. It’s her first day on the job, and she’s bound to run into things she’s unfamiliar with. I just wanted to help—not for personal interest!"

"You’d better not be," Mrs. Weasley snapped, then turned to ask, "But what’s the deal? Why did Hermione suddenly go to work at the Ministry?"

"Honestly, I don’t know," Mr. Weasley said, shrugging. "Chris just said Kyle brought her in to help."

"What does this have to do with Kyle?" Mrs. Weasley was even more puzzled. "He’s been home all day."

"Not necessarily, Mum," Ron said. "Remember? When I went to call Kyle for lunch, his room was completely quiet. He was over an hour late to dinner, too."

"So what?" said Fred dismissively. "We lock ourselves in our room all day when we’re working on new products. Nothing unusual about that."

"True, but still..."

"Yeah, I did go to the Ministry," said Kyle, coming downstairs after hearing the noise. He glanced at the time. "It’s late—aren’t any of you going to bed?"

"Couldn’t sleep," Harry said. "I’ve got nothing to do all day but sleep anyway. But wait, Kyle—you really went to the Ministry?"

"Yeah, had a few things to handle." Kyle nodded, then looked at Mrs. Weasley. "Sorry. I knew I couldn’t leave through the front door, so I had to find another way."

"You shouldn’t have kept it from me," Mrs. Weasley said, clearly unhappy. "What if you’d been spotted by a Death Eater?"

"That wouldn’t happen," said Kyle. "In fact, I didn’t even leave the house."

"You didn’t leave?" Ron frowned. "Then how’d you get to the Ministry—Floo Network?"

"Impossible. The fireplace here isn’t connected to the Floo Network." Hermione took another bite of pie. "And Portkeys and Apparition are both blocked."

"So how’d you do it?" Harry asked, intrigued. He looked at Kyle expectantly, clearly curious.

"Phoenix. Didn’t we just go through this yesterday?" Kyle said matter-of-factly. "Phoenix Apparition isn’t restricted. You can do it right from your room."

The room fell silent. Nobody spoke. Everyone seemed to be thinking about the same not-so-pleasant memory.

Harry immediately felt that if being carried by a phoenix was the only way out of here, staying in bed might not be so bad.

Hermione couldn’t even eat anymore. A strange, unexpected wave of emotion surged in her chest. She hadn’t realized Kyle had gone through so much just to help her get to the Ministry...

"Wait a second..."

She suddenly remembered something. "That’s not right. When you arrived at the Ministry, you seemed completely normal."

"Is that a problem?" Kyle blinked, not understanding what she meant.

"I mean... if you’re being Apparated by a phoenix, you shouldn’t feel that calm."

She remembered her first time—when the phoenix took her from Godric’s Hollow to Hogsmeade—she’d nearly thrown up her breakfast.

And she wasn’t alone. Everyone had been the same, even Sirius and Tonks hadn’t handled it well.

But Kyle? At most, he’d looked a little unsteady. Aside from that, he was totally fine. No discomfort at all.

"Oh, that." Kyle waved it off. "It’s just like flying class. Do it enough times, and you get used to it."

Hermione hesitated, then stayed quiet... She didn’t think she’d ever get used to it. And unless it was absolutely necessary, she had no intention of trying it again.

"I need to apologize for what I said earlier," Hermione said seriously after swallowing her bite of pie. "About the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee—I didn’t know the full picture."

"It’s fine. It’s not like they know either," Kyle said with a shrug. "How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted," Hermione sighed. "The work itself isn’t hard. It’s just... so tedious. And I haven’t figured out a single solution."

By the end of the day, she felt like a broken record—repeating basic Muggle knowledge over and over to various wizards.

And once wasn’t enough. They couldn’t understand unless she explained it from multiple angles, used analogies from the magical world, and repeated everything at least three times.

She’d never talked so much in one day. If she hadn’t taken the potion Mr. Parrish had prepared in advance, her throat would’ve given out long ago.

"Is it really that busy?" Ron asked, curious. Even Harry looked surprised.

Before today, they hadn’t even known the Ministry had a Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee.

"There’s just no time to rest," Hermione said. "From morning till now, I’ve either been solving problems or on the way to solve them. I feel like I traveled all over Britain today."

"That sounds like an exaggeration."

"It’s not. It’s the truth."

"So how do you get around? Apparition?" Harry asked.

"Portkeys," Hermione replied.

"You made them yourselves?"

"Of course not," she said. "Mr. Parrish is only authorized to make return Portkeys to the Ministry. We have to go back after every case to get a new one."

"Back to the Ministry?" Ron muttered. "That’s such a hassle."

"There’s no choice. Portkeys can be used by anyone—even Muggles—so the Ministry keeps them heavily restricted." Hermione sighed. "I’ve used more Portkeys today than I have in the past few years combined."

She let out a long sigh and took a big gulp of pumpkin juice.

"So what kind of stuff did you deal with?" Ron asked.

"Oh, just incredibly tedious things," she replied. "Clothing was the biggest issue. Like this afternoon, a wizard living in a Muggle neighborhood couldn’t understand why he was suddenly arrested by the police while walking down the street."

"Arrested by what?"

"The Muggle Aurors!" Mr. Weasley said excitedly, then looked to Hermione for confirmation.

"In terms of their role, they’re more like Hit Wizards," Hermione said. "But ’Aurors’ works too."

"See? I do know things," Mr. Weasley said proudly.

"So why did the Muggle Aurors arrest him?" Ron asked, frowning. "Was he performing magic illegally?"

"No," Hermione shook her head.

"Did he attack a Muggle?"

"Also no."

"Then why?"

"Because Muggle men don’t usually go shopping wearing just a skirt," Hermione said, rubbing her eyes. "And I mean just—one skirt."

"Pfft—!" Harry couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing, then quickly clamped a hand over his mouth when Hermione shot him a look.

"Can you imagine?" Hermione said, voice shaking slightly. "He thought it was a robe, wore it like a coat, and went to greet his female neighbor..."

"We had to use a Confundus Charm to calm the situation, and then spent two hours explaining that it wasn’t a Muggle robe and couldn’t be worn alone."

Harry pressed both hands over his mouth, his cheeks puffed like he had two oranges stuffed inside.

He couldn’t even begin to imagine what Aunt Petunia would do if a neighbor showed up at their house wearing nothing but a long skirt. She’d lose her mind.

His family prided themselves on being the most normal Muggles. They absolutely couldn’t stand anything out of the ordinary—especially magic.

They’d been taken away by the Order of the Phoenix the day before his birthday. He didn’t know if they’d returned yet.

Thinking about it helped distract him, and he finally managed to suppress his laughter.

If he laughed now, Hermione might actually kill him.

She rubbed her eyes again.

"So," Kyle said, watching her. "Do you want to switch departments? I’ve got connections in the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. The work’s more straightforward, and it’d still help you get familiar with the Ministry."

"No, that won’t be necessary," Hermione said, taking a deep breath and answering firmly. "I’m staying there for the full month, no matter what. And I want to see if I can make things easier for them."

"That won’t be easy," Kyle said. "It’s tough to change wizarding habits."

"I want to try. Someone has to," Hermione said with determination. "If I can’t manage even this, I’ll never be able to handle something more difficult."

"Hm." Kyle raised an eyebrow, poured two glasses of mead, and slid one over to her. "Then here’s to your success."

"Hey, that’s not fair," Sirius grumbled. "What about us? Are we just supposed to sit here and watch?"

"Just say you want some," Kyle said bluntly, passing him the bottle.

"But can we drink?"

"Mead’s fine. Won’t affect anything." He poured a glass for each of them—just enough.

The group raised their glasses together, toasting to Hermione’s success.

"She’s getting harder and harder to understand," Ron muttered to Harry while sipping. "Why insist on staying there? I still think the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures is better—it’s the Ministry’s second-largest department."

"Maybe she has her reasons," Harry replied.

He didn’t really get it either, but if Hermione had made up her mind, he’d support her.

And truthfully, he kind of wished he had something to keep him busy too.

But he knew full well that neither Mrs. Weasley nor Sirius would let him set foot outside.

As for Kyle’s method... that was off the table.

After finishing their mead, everyone went their separate ways. Mrs. Weasley ushered the children back to their rooms, urging them to get some sleep.

Fred and George, however, didn’t return to theirs. They slipped away to find Kyle.

"We’ve been thinking it over," Fred said as they stepped inside. "About that new communication device you mentioned tonight."

"You sure the Ministry will actually pay for it?" George asked.

"Honestly? I can’t say for sure," Kyle replied. "But from what Bones said, if the product meets all the needs, she’d likely approve it for the Aurors."

"But does the Ministry even have the money?" Fred raised another concern. "I heard they’re planning to expand the Auror and Hit Wizard forces. The more people, the more it’ll cost. Do they really have the Galleons for new magical gear?"

"They should," Kyle said after thinking a moment. "At least enough to give one to every Auror team."

"No worries—we’re in," Fred said. "We needed to roll out new products anyway. Even if the Ministry doesn’t want them, we can sell them elsewhere."

"No rush on this one," Kyle said with a warm smile. "But tell me—how would you two like to train yourselves... or better yet, contribute to peace in the wizarding world and stability among Muggles in a truly meaningful way?"

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