Chapter 2: Pest Advisory Office

Rufus Scrimgeour.

Auror Office Director.

"Murphy." The other party also saw him but didn't stop walking.

Murphy stepped forward a few steps and walked alongside him. "Director Scrimgeour, what do you think about joining the Aurors that I mentioned to you last time?"

If he had to work in the Ministry of Magic, Murphy actually quite wanted to become an Unspeakable, being able to conduct some research on the essence of magic, which was very attractive to him.

But Unspeakables are usually lifelong, and becoming an Unspeakable basically means being disconnected from the world.

Secondly, being an Auror is also quite good. As a frontline combatant, not only is the salary relatively high, but it's also very exciting.

In any case, it's much better than the current job.

Scrimgeour walked with wind, his face still taut as he spoke, looking straight ahead.

"I looked at your school grades, they are excellent. Your ability test results are also good, and you use spells very skillfully, but you cannot become an Auror."

"Why?"

Murphy widened his eyes; he had already been rejected too many times today.

"Your personality test didn't pass. You are too impulsive, love adventure, lack obedience, and more importantly, we found that you are full of prejudice and dissatisfaction with the Wizarding World."

"What? I..."

Scrimgeour suddenly stopped and looked at him. "And your background check didn't pass. Your parents were Dark Wizards. My analyst told me that it might be precisely because of their influence that there are so many dangerous factors in your personality."

Murphy was speechless.

"What we need are loyal warriors. The Auror Office is not suitable for you. Go do what you should do."

Scrimgeour said, patted Murphy on the shoulder, and was about to leave.

"Do you mean providing advice on exterminating gnomes for those idiots?" Murphy couldn't help but retort.

Scrimgeour turned his head and gave him a deep look. "Take care of yourself."

Background check.

Damn it!

This again!

Previously, his application to be an Unspeakable was also rejected because of a background check.

The son of a Dark Wizard obviously didn't meet the conditions for working in important departments of the Ministry of Magic.

Yes, his parents were Dark Wizards.

Sanders Darkholm and Natalie Darkholm, a pair of idiots who fantasized about following the Dark Lord to restore the family glory.

Six years ago, Voldemort fell, and they also successfully sent themselves to Azkaban.

And they died there about three or four years ago.

They didn't leave Murphy any inheritance either.

As early as Sanders' generation, the Darkholm family was already destitute. After they died, besides a dilapidated and drafty old house, Murphy only inherited about a few hundred Galleons of debt.

Fortunately, most of Sanders' creditors were also in Azkaban, so no one came to Murphy to collect debts.

Murphy had never complained about his background.

After all, as a transmigrator, parents were probably just like a background introduction to him.

Orphan?

Which transmigrator isn't an orphan?

Poor?

Isn't this the classic opening?

As for his parents being Dark Wizards?

Cool!

When he was young at Hogwarts, he was once bullied because of his identity as the son of a Dark Wizard, but after he broke the legs of those bullies one by one later, no one came to provoke him again.

It wasn't until graduation that he felt the trouble brought by this identity again.

Who would have thought that the Wizarding World also has political vetting!

Damn it!

The Auror thing was a no-go. Murphy sat in the elevator, disheartened, and arrived at the fourth underground floor.

Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

The door at the end of the corridor was the office where Murphy worked.

He saw a few crooked small characters written on the doorplate:

"Pest Advisory Office".

Murphy pushed the door open, lifeless, and heard an affected voice.

"Oh, the lazybones finally remembered to come to work, but unfortunately, you're late, again."

An irregular sphere wrapped in a lace sweater let out a laugh like a barbell.

Murphy was a bit dazed for a moment.

Huh, why did the inflated Aunt Marge from the movie appear here?

Alright, this is his immediate superior.

Pest Advisory Office Director.

The pest Murphy hated most in his mind.

Belinda Pound.

"Fuck!"

Murphy replied with a Chinese character as usual.

"Speaking in that strange language again, don't think I don't understand."

"..."

The fat woman twisted to Murphy's side, holding a form in her hand, and deliberately drew a big cross on it with a pen at this moment.

"Marked late again, the third time. Guess what, your attendance at the end of the month is going to fail..."

"Heh heh."

"Murphy, what kind of attitude is that! The Director is talking to you!" A withered bald man also spoke up. "Don't young people nowadays know any manners?"

This is the pest Murphy hated second most, Deputy Director of the Advisory Office, Stave Moore.

"Belinda, don't be angry, come and taste this cup of ginger tea, I added a drop of Flobberworm mucus, it's good for treating insomnia. Knowing you like sweet things, I added extra sugar cubes."

Stave diligently handed Belinda a cup of steaming black tea, looking at the other party with expectation as she frowned and took a sip.

Flobberworm...

Worthy of being the Deputy Pest Director, the taste is just so unique.

Murphy decided to ignore the two weirdos flirting with each other, so as not to dirty his own eyes.

He came to his desk and looked at the pile of letters on the table.

Pest Advisory Office, as the name suggests, its work is to provide advice and suggestions for wizarding families to deal with pests.

For example, the most common is exterminating garden gnomes, and occasionally there are ghouls that have lost their way.

Specifically, it is to reply to those wizards who are harassed by pests.

For Murphy, this work is boring to the extreme. The so-called pest problems in most of the letters can actually be solved if one knows a little bit of magical creature knowledge or has a little common sense.

At first, Murphy could reply with relatively detailed coping methods, but after less than a month, he was bored to death, and his replies became more and more perfunctory.

Nowadays, he usually only uses phrases like: "Burn it with fire," "Beat the wooden basin," "Kick it," etc., to dismiss those letters, and sometimes there is only one word, such as: "Fire," "Basin," "Kick," etc.

He doesn't care if the other party can understand, he just wants to slack off.

Resisting the urge to tear the letters to shreds, Murphy cheered up and replied to a few, then was left feeling irritable.

This shitty job, he doesn't want to work for even a day!

Subconsciously, Murphy's hand reached into his pocket to find a cigarette.

This was a habit formed in his previous life; when he felt irritable, he wanted a smoke.

However, since transmigrating in this life, he had been living at Hogwarts, so his smoking addiction was long gone, and he wouldn't carry them in his pocket, so naturally, he couldn't find any.

But after fumbling around, he took out a piece of paper from his pocket.

It was actually the business card of that mohawked man from before.

David Stik.

Jelida Pharmaceutical Group, Director, Executive President.

When did this dog stuff that business card into my pocket?

"What are you doing, why aren't you writing replies? Who do you think is responsible for our department always being complained about for poor efficiency? These people are all being troubled by pests! Waiting for our help! And we can't do anything because you haven't even started writing!"

Belinda roared.

So why the fuck don't you write it yourself?

"Belinda, your sense of responsibility is admirable." Stave Moore offered flattery at the right time.

Ugh, can you two go die first?

The boring day was finally endured.

Before getting off work, Murphy received another piece of bad news.

"Due to several magical disasters last month, plus a decrease in donations, this month's salary will be suspended. The Ministry is raising money as quickly as possible, striving to make up for everyone next month..."

Listening to the declaration of the current Minister, Millicent Bagnold, Murphy rolled his eyes in frustration.

A government whose main source of funding is donations and various examination fees, fines, etc.

Unstable income, as well as highly unstable expenditures, led to the Ministry's capital chain breaking from time to time, and wage arrears were already common.

Damn, who came up with this financial model?

These idiots!

The entire Ministry of Magic can't even scrape together a single brain!

Reason and logic are just air to these wizards.

"Merlin's rotten crotch! Shit!" Someone cursed not far away.

Obviously, Murphy was not the only one dissatisfied with this.

That person cursed a few times, saw Murphy, and greeted him. "Murphy, let's go, have a drink, damn it, I'm so pissed off!"

This person's name was Orton Forris, a Muggle-born wizard, a few years older than Murphy, working in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. In terms of complaining about the Ministry of Magic, the two had a common hobby.

Thinking about the shitty things today, Murphy agreed.

"Let's go, Three Broomsticks."

(End of chapter)