When John stepped out again, he was already in the Ministry of Magic's atrium.
Gold and jade in glorious splendor—the dark wooden floors beneath his feet were polished to a mirror shine.
The peacock-blue ceiling was inlaid with shimmering golden symbols, constantly shifting and changing.
All four walls were paneled in sleek, black, glossy wood, with gilded fireplaces embedded within.
John had just arrived from one of those gilded fireplaces.
He'd set up a Floo Network connection to the Ministry himself—arranged under old Barty's lead.
At the center of the hall stood a fountain—a round pool with a group of solid gold statues rising from it.
The Fountain of Magical Brethren.
A handsome wizard and a beautiful witch stood proudly, while a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf gazed up at them in reverence.
To John, it looked like the Ministry had put all its money into polishing the handle of the knife instead of the blade.
No matter how polished the surface, without real magical strength, it was all for show.
Perhaps they meant it as a tribute to a few hard-won victories—but up to now, aside from house-elves, centaurs and goblins had never truly submitted to the Ministry.
Especially centaurs—who had never even set foot inside the place.
Goblins, meanwhile, held the financial lifeline of the wizarding world.
"Sir Johnny Silverhand."
Waiting here was a wizard beaming with smiles.
It was the security officer, Eric. The man whose face normally looked like he was attending a funeral now had a rare grin.
He was especially enthusiastic today, because Johnny Silverhand had made him enough money to finally replace that ancient Comet broomstick at home.
"Need to inspect my wand?" John naturally took out his wand.
Eric waved his hands frantically. "No need, Sir Johnny Silverhand. Minister Crouch is waiting for you in his office."
"Thank you for the notice," John nodded, stepping through the golden doors with Tommy.
Eric personally watched John walk through the golden doors. The moment they vanished, the smile on his face vanished just as fast.
Returning to his station, his expression went straight back to funeral mode.
"I brought a guest."
A voice rang out. Eric lazily lifted his eyelids to see Mr. Weasley arriving with Harry.
"Over here," he said listlessly.
Gone was the enthusiasm from moments ago—even facing the famous Boy-who-lived, Harry Potter, made no difference.
After all, the Savior hadn't gotten him a Nimbus 2000, now had he?
He asked Harry to hand over his wand and sluggishly took it from him.
That speed could rival a sloth.
…
Behind the golden doors was a smaller hall.
Inside were at least twenty lifts. As John walked past, every wizard he encountered would respectfully greet him as "Sir."
Some of Tommy's former colleagues couldn't help but look at him with envy.
Though he no longer worked at the Ministry, Tommy's current status was far higher than theirs.
"Sir, after you."
A lift arrived. A scruffy, bearded wizard carrying a large cardboard box quickly stepped forward, blocking others with swift reflexes to clear a path for John.
The others inwardly praised his tact and immediately smiled, insisting they weren't in a rush—let the gentleman go first.
"Thank you, Bob."
With that one sentence, the smiles on everyone else's faces nearly twisted.
But the big wizard, Bob, was overjoyed—Sir Johnny Silverhand remembered his name.
The last person whose name was remembered was Oz Hild, who was now a candidate for head of the Auror Office.
Bob beamed so brightly he nearly shook the chickens inside his big cardboard box into a coma.
The golden grate door closed, and the lift slowly began to rise.
"They're really enthusiastic, aren't they, Tommy?" During rush hour, there were only two people in this lift.
Tommy chuckled and shrugged. "I've never seen Eric smile like that. He usually looks like he's on his way to a funeral every time he comes to work."
"Power and money—they're both wonderful things," John said, rubbing his ring as they reached the 6th floor.
This was the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Ludo was the big boss here.
Speaking of Ludo, John asked casually, "How much does Ludo still owe?"
"After the last vote, you agreed to forgive ten percent. He still owes about 5,400 Galleons," Tommy replied, his memory sharp.
"Looks like he might pay it off by next year."
Outside, those who had originally come here for business halted immediately when they saw John inside the lift, stepping aside with forced smiles to let him pass first.
The lift continued upward and arrived at the 5th floor—the Department of Magical Transportation.
On the 4th floor, John ran into Percy, now the Head of the International Magical Law Office.
Holding a stack of documents, Percy stepped into the lift.
"I moved out," Percy said. "My father thinks I'm being petty."
Talking about it, a trace of annoyance flickered across Percy's face.
"Well, that's not a bad thing. At least it avoids awkwardness, doesn't it?" John chuckled. "Mr. Weasley doesn't get to plan your whole life."
"I think so too."
On the 3rd floor—the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures—Percy had to get off to deal with the illegal import of magical creatures.
The lift continued on, passing the 2nd floor's Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, and the 1st floor's Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
They reached their destination: the ground floor, the Minister's Office.
Walking into the office, John found old Barty poring over documents.
The more he read, the deeper his frown became.
"Hope I'm not interrupting, my friend." John said with a smile as he entered.
Old Barty's stern face broke into a smile as he stood to shake John's hand.
"Of course not, Lord Johnny Silverhand."
John's eyes glanced at the papers on the desk—they were about Dumbledore and the Dementors at Azkaban.
"Dumbledore is the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. That title, while it's his, severely limits the Ministry's ability to make certain decisions."
Old Barty invited John to sit. His short gray hair had noticeably more white strands than before.
John chuckled lightly. "Then take it from him. Dumbledore doesn't care about titles. His pride lies not in those honors, but in his unmatched magic."
"Yes, I think so too. He told me the Ministry has no right to interfere in matters at Hogwarts," Barty said, a flicker of anger showing on his face.
Rubbing his ring, John quietly looked at old Barty and said meaningfully, "That's exactly why we need to restrict him, Barty."
Old Barty had seen with his own eyes how Dumbledore carried himself like some emperor emeritus of the Ministry. As the new Minister, he had no intention of letting that continue.
Checking the time, Barty said, "I imagine Your Excellency wouldn't mind accompanying me downstairs?"
"Of course not," John stood up gracefully, smiling. "It would be my honor."
With this King of the Knockturn Ally by his side, Barty felt much more confident going up against Dumbledore.
They took the lift down. When they passed the old basement level two, John raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You moved the location?"
Barty said sternly, "To host our Savior Potter and King Dumbledore, naturally, it must be somewhere more fitting."
Barty didn't like rule-breakers. And unfortunately, Harry Potter was exactly that kind of person.
"He causes trouble almost every single year," Barty muttered, criticizing Harry.
Indeed, ever since his first year at school, Harry had managed to stir up drama annually.
And once, he even caused the Ministry to lose face completely.
It was hard for Barty to feel any fondness for him.
And nearly everyone credited the defeat of Voldemort solely to the "Savior", the "Boy-Who-Lived" Harry Potter.
That—made Barty furious.
Back when Voldemort was at large, Barty Sr. was in charge of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It was under his iron-fisted leadership that Aurors were authorized to use the Unforgivable Curses against Death Eaters.
One could say, while his accomplishments couldn't quite match Dumbledore—the magical world's living nuclear bomb—they were still enough to rank him among the top three contributors in that era.
Yet the only person the public remembered was the "Savior," Harry Potter. And because of the incident with his son, Barty Crouch Jr., Barty Sr. had been entirely forgotten.
If it weren't for Sir Johnny, Barty would probably still be collecting dust in some obscure corner of the Ministry.
This time, the change of location was meant to remind everyone—of what Barty had once done in that courtroom, of who was the man that led the Ministry's charge against Voldemort!
The lift descended all the way to Level Nine underground.
This was the most mysterious place in the entire Ministry of Magic.
John stepped out and looked toward the black door at the end of the corridor, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.
The Department of Mysteries.
But Barty turned toward a side stairwell, calling out, "This way down, Your Excellency."
"Oh? This is my first time coming here," John replied casually, giving the black door of the Department of Mysteries one last lingering look.
There was something in there that John wanted, but now wasn't the right time.
Even Barty couldn't easily mobilize the things hidden within.
They walked down the stairwell, descending all the way to the bottom.
The place reminded John of the corridor leading to Potions class back in school.
The rough stone walls were lit with torches, and they made their way to Courtroom Ten.
They pushed the door open.
"Ah, Minister Crouch… and… His Excellency Johnny Silverhand."
___________
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