London, 10 Downing Street.
In the Muggle Prime Minister's office, the atmosphere was as heavy as if discussing World War III.
The Prime Minister clutched the famous red suitcase (the nuclear button) tightly, cold sweat beading on his forehead.
Sitting opposite him was an old man in purple robes with a long beard, happily eating a candy called "Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans."
"Professor Dumbledore," the Prime Minister's voice trembled, "I need an explanation. Why has a five-hundred-meter-tall iron tower suddenly appeared in the Scottish Highlands? Why does my phone automatically connect to a Wi-Fi network called 'Hogwarts-5G-Plus' when I'm near it? And why, after connecting, does my screensaver turn into... that nose-less monster dancing to Cyndi Loves You?"
Dumbledore swallowed an earwax-flavored bean, pushed up his glasses, and smiled like a kindly grandfather next door:
"Oh, dear Prime Minister, that is a 'Magical Signal Booster Tower'. As for the Wi-Fi... I suppose young Ivan is messing around with 'Muggle Tech Fusion' experiments again. As for the dancing video... that was to alleviate international tensions. Don't you think it has a great rhythm?"
"Rhythm my foot!" The Prime Minister nearly crushed his coffee cup. "My intelligence agency says that's a 'Weapon of Mass Destruction'! I was about to press the button!"
Just then, the office fireplace spewed green flames.
Cornelius Fudge tumbled out, scrambling, holding a tape measure.
"Stop! Prime Minister! It's a misunderstanding! Absolute misunderstanding!" Fudge rushed over while wiping sweat, trying to shield the red suitcase with his body. "That tower... that's for... um... 'Meteorological Observation'! Yes! Observing magical air currents!"
"Meteorological observation needs 5G frequency bands?" The Prime Minister looked at him coldly. "And why does the tower fly a Slytherin flag? And say 'Sponsored by Ivan Potter'?"
Fudge froze.
He turned to look at Dumbledore, eyes full of despair: Couldn't you have covered that damned sponsor logo?
Dumbledore blinked innocently. "My, sponsors these days demand logo exposure. Ivan said if we didn't hang it, he'd cut off the Ministry's power supply—using that 'Quantum Entanglement Power Cut Method'."
Fudge felt a pang of angina.
This life is unlivable.
Outside there's a Potter doing tech, inside there's a Prime Minister threatening nuclear deterrence, and next to me is an Old Bee who only eats candy.
"I don't care!" The Prime Minister stood up abruptly, slamming the nuclear suitcase on the desk. "Either dismantle that tower, or I'll send the Royal Air Force to level that... that Hog-whatever!"
"Hogwarts." Dumbledore corrected.
He slowly stood up, releasing the aura belonging to the greatest white wizard of the age. The teacups in the office began to vibrate slightly.
"Prime Minister, violence solves nothing. Especially... when you are facing magic."
Dumbledore waved his wand gently.
"Confundo · Modified."
In an instant, the anger in the Prime Minister's eyes turned into confusion.
He looked at the nuclear suitcase on the table and suddenly felt the thing was incredibly heavy and meaningless.
Instead, looking at the little wooden stick in Dumbledore's hand, a trace of... longing flashed in his eyes?
"Actually..." the Prime Minister murmured, "bombing a school isn't very eco-friendly. Besides, I've been pulling my hair out over Brexit lately... Professor Dumbledore, since you have this... 'magic'..."
He rubbed his hands together, revealing a shrewd smile unique to politicians:
"Can we negotiate? Like, hire me as a... 'Guest Professor' at your school? I won't teach anything else, just 'Muggle Political Fraud'... oh no, 'Muggle Administration'. In exchange, I'll pretend I didn't see that 5G tower. Also, I can approve a special 'Education Fund' for Hogwarts to... um, repair that exploded girls' bathroom."
Fudge was stunned.
He watched the Prime Minister, who just moments ago wanted to flatten Hogwarts, now bargaining with Dumbledore to become a professor?
Is this the power of magic? This is scarier than Dementors!
Dumbledore seemed to have expected this. He smiled until his eyes were slits:
"Of course, Prime Minister. Hogwarts happens to lack a lecturer for 'Muggle Studies'. And I heard you've always wanted to solve the 'Northern Ireland Border Issue'? Perhaps we can use an 'Undetectable Extension Charm' to fold the border line?"
The Prime Minister's eyes lit up instantly:
"Really? No need to build walls? No customs checkpoints?"
"Just a 'Notice-Me-Not Charm'." Dumbledore snapped his fingers, and a parchment contract appeared on the table. "Sign here. By the way, salary can be paid in Galleons, or... Ivan's latest 'Anti-Hair Loss Potion'?"
"I want the potion! Give me ten bottles!" The Prime Minister grabbed the quill (handed by Fudge) without hesitation and signed his name with a flourish. "Also, can that 5G tower run a line to my office? I want to use it to scroll Twitter... oh no, to 'Monitor International Situations'."
Fudge watched this scene, feeling his worldview shattered into dregs.
The dignity of the Minister for Magic was gone.
The current situation: The Dark Lord is selling kebabs, the Headmaster is engaging in political trading, and even the Muggle Prime Minister is coming to teach at Hogwarts?
"Um... Headmaster," Fudge interjected meekly, "if the Prime Minister comes, then I... am I still Minister?"
Dumbledore glanced at him, then at the Prime Minister who was excitedly discussing "How to use Transfiguration to turn the opposition party into ferrets."
"Oh, Cornelius," Dumbledore patted Fudge's shoulder earnestly, "your new position is—'Director of the Hogwarts-Ministry Liaison Office'. Main duty is... serving tea to the Prime Minister, and preventing him from bringing the nuclear button into the Great Hall."
Fudge: ???
I got demoted from Minister to waiter?
Just then, the green fire in the fireplace surged again.
Ivan drilled out from inside, holding a welding torch, face covered in soot.
"Dumbledore! Fudge! Bad news!" Ivan shouted. "That 5G tower just overloaded due to signal congestion and connected Voldemort's grill to the internet! Now every TV in Britain is livestreaming Voldemort roasting kidneys! And... because of algorithm recommendations, YouTube automatically paired it with BGM—'Good Luck Comes'!"
Dead silence in the office.
The Prime Minister froze for three seconds, then burst into laughter:
"Hahahaha! Voldemort roasting kidneys to 'Good Luck Comes'? That is simply the best performance art of the year! Quick! Dumbledore! Connect me to that stream! I want to like that video!"
Fudge covered his face in despair.
It's over.
Even the Prime Minister has been led astray.
This world is doomed sooner or later.
"Also," Ivan glanced at the Prime Minister rubbing his hands excitedly, raising an eyebrow, "Oh, Mr. Prime Minister is here too? Perfect. Since you signed the contract, can you advance some salary? The electricity bill for the 5G tower hasn't been paid. The heating in the castle stopped just now because of arrears, and Professor Snape is chasing Filch with his wand in the dungeon."
The Prime Minister waved his hand grandly: "No problem! Deduct it from my annual salary! Also, Ivan, right? I heard you came up with a 'Quantum Dominion Theory'? Can you explain it to me? I want to use it to calculate my approval ratings."
Ivan smiled and tossed the welding torch to Fudge:
"Of course, Mr. Prime Minister. However, my tutoring fee is expensive. One lesson... for the password to your nuclear suitcase, how about it?"
The Prime Minister's smile froze on his face.
Dumbledore coughed lightly nearby: "Ivan, that is a state secret. However, if you can teach the Prime Minister the 'Scourgify' charm, telling you the password wouldn't hurt."
Fudge looked at these three "partners in crime" and suddenly felt very redundant.
He silently picked up the welding torch and walked toward the fireplace:
"You guys chat. I'll go fix that damned signal tower. And ask Voldemort if he can save me a skewer of kidneys... I'm hungry too."