"No lemon-flavored ice cream… really?"
After lunch, Andrew wasn't quite at full energy, but he still tidied himself up and headed toward the agreed-upon empty classroom.
Even though his current understanding of the so-called "Aspiring Ministry of Magic" club had left him disappointed, he figured it was still worth checking out—maybe there was something he could mooch off for free.
But when he arrived, the room was already half full.
"Andrew, over here!"
Connie, the one who had officially nominated him for the club, called out from near the door. Andrew sat down in the empty seat behind him.
That's when he noticed the chairs had been arranged by magic into several small groups surrounding a central open area. A few older Ravenclaws were seated at the front of each group.
"No way…"
A ridiculous thought popped into Andrew's head—and unfortunately, it was confirmed five or six minutes later.
A small temple breeds wild spirits; a shallow pond attracts too many turtles.
Though this saying insulted himself as well, Andrew couldn't think of a better metaphor.
Can you believe it? This broken-down club had factions. Real ones. With internal logic.
They were all gunning for the Ministry of Magic, so naturally, it made sense to "specialize."
The ones planning to become future enforcers and arrest their classmates leaned toward the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. This group viewed "non-conformist" Ravenclaws as their future archrivals. The older they were, the more extreme—scrutinizing even their own club members like suspects under investigation.
Then there were the openly shameless ones, who saw the Minister's Office and Logistics as their ideal path. Several upperclassmen had even landed internships there over the summer. Whether or not they'd get in permanently was unknown, but for now, they strutted around like they owned the place, barking orders at underclassmen like they were subordinates.
Another group favored the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. They believed the Ministry needed people who could actually get things done and saw themselves as the peacekeepers of the wizarding world—this group was by far the nicest.
The Sports Department faction basically didn't show up—unless there was a major meeting. Most were off training for Quidditch or involved in inter-house competitions. Some of them were in dual clubs, helping out with minor tournaments like Gobstones or Exploding Snap. Their excuse? High specialization. Practical training was essential.
Those were the classic groups. Others who favored different departments weren't even worth mentioning.
As for Connie, who had brought Andrew in—no surprise—he belonged to the most elitist faction: the Minister's Office and Logistics.
There were a few who genuinely loved magical creatures and leaned toward the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but Connie's group? Definitely not among them.
"You're a smart guy, Taylor," Connie said with a grin. "Everyone agrees with what you said. We really should discriminate equally."
His smile widened. "You'll see just how wise your choice was. Minister Fudge is young and capable—by the time you graduate, he'll likely still be in charge, just like the last Minister."
Andrew did know about that—Millicent Bagnold had stayed in office until she literally didn't want to work anymore.
"Absolutely… I fully support the Minister of Magic," Andrew replied without hesitation—though he omitted the part where he'd support whoever held the office. Not much of a difference, right?
"Just one thing—I've had a headache whenever I see paperwork since I was a kid. I already fell asleep once in History of Magic…" Andrew added quickly in a low voice. "But I'm decent at Charms, so I'm thinking of trying my luck in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes."
"The Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes?" Connie glanced at Andrew. Well, that wasn't a conflicting path, so fine. Clearly a guy with some brains, but not enough to spot the most promising option…
"All right then, go ahead. Wherever you end up, it's still for the Ministry of Magic, right?"
He smiled, but the enthusiasm vanished from his expression.
"At least there are normal people…"
Andrew happily ditched Connie's group and greeted the upperclassman on the other side before taking a seat, even more pleased.
You don't often get two pieces of good news at once—finding out there's still hope for the school and getting to avoid weirdos? That was a win.
What followed was simple: the club summarized how many members had landed Ministry positions or internships over the summer, praised the Ministry of Magic, and shared their hopes for the future.
Then, each faction recommended important classes and reading lists to new members based on their career goals. With these resources, both internship applications and future employment prospects could gain a competitive edge.
Basically, upperclassmen teaching you how to ace written and interview exams…
Andrew noticed something funny—the other group mostly recommended utility spells: organizing parchment, sending paper airplanes, keeping coffee at the right temperature…
"So much for all the grand speeches—turns out it's just training for office work…"
His group, however, had a different approach. But Andrew wasn't quite aligned with them either.
"Start by trying to understand the theory behind Occlumency. We usually don't recommend first-years join, but since you're here, give it a shot. If you master it before the end of your fifth year, you can skip most other assessments and get a recommendation for an internship. Not many manage that, though."
"What you need now is a solid foundation. As for Defense Against the Dark Arts—that's something you'll have to study on your own. Whether it's fellow first-years or upperclassmen, don't expect much help. That's their secret weapon."
The leader, a boy named Ham, gave Andrew this advice.
"As a proper Ravenclaw, you understand why. But I can promise that if your first-term grades are impressive enough, I'll give you my personal reading list."
Yes, Andrew understood. Technically, they were all rivals, and DADA was a core subject that Hogwarts notoriously underperformed at. No one wanted to share their edge—no matter the house. Though Ravenclaws were probably the worst offenders.
"Got it. I'll work hard on the basics," Andrew agreed easily—though he had no intention of actually doing it.
He'd have to be crazy to go bother Professor Quirrell. Self-study was the best he could do—and even that only after Transfiguration, which at least had a good professor.
To him, this club was just a background piece to survive the lower years. The Ministry of Magic? Please. Real magic was far more important.
…
"All right, everyone, that concludes our first meeting of the new term—see you at the Ministry of Magic."
"See you at the Ministry."
T/N: For up to 20 chapters ahead on all my translations, become a p@tron at [email protected]/LordHipposApostle
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