Chapter 3: Fuck the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy

After a few Butterbeers, the anger that was about to burst in Murphy's heart finally calmed down temporarily.

"Fuck the magical disasters! Fuck Millicent!" Orton cursed incoherently.

"Yes, fuck!"

Murphy raised his glass and clinked it with the other party.

"Fuck Merlin! Fuck wizards!" Orton continued to yell.

"Yes, fuck!"

Murphy agreed with this toast and drank another cup.

"Fuck the Three Broomsticks! Fuck Rosmerta!"

"Yes! Uh..."

Murphy glanced at the landlady by the bar whose gaze had already shifted here; the cup she was wiping looked very suitable for throwing.

"No, not this one, fuck someone else."

"Clang." Orton fell asleep.

Murphy's mood suddenly improved a lot. He didn't bother with his companion, went to the bar to pay the bill, and was just about to leave when he suddenly heard someone shouting: "Hey, Dark Wizard bastard!"

A table of people was sitting not far from him, and several of them looked very familiar.

Dwarf Dolph, sycophant Moore, and Aunt Balloon, oh no, it's Fat Ball Belinda.

"Murphy Darkholm, heard you joined the Ministry of Magic?"

Murphy looked at the speaker for a long time.

"Brother, who are you?"

The wizard's face twitched, and the scar on the corner of his eye also twisted like a centipede.

"Idiot! You don't even recognize who he is! Fres Shafiq! He is the son of Department Head Babbington!"

Moore scolded Murphy sternly while fawning and smiling at Shafiq, his face switching between being overbearing and servile, which Murphy found breathtaking.

Good guy, are you a Metamorphmagus, performing face-changing here?

"Oh!!" Murphy suddenly understood. "Fres! The one who was beaten to tears by me in the third grade? Why? Does your face not hurt anymore?"

Fres stood up with a "bang," and the scar on his face left by Murphy seemed to ache faintly again.

"Murphy, you're crazy! Quickly apologize to Mr. Fres!" Belinda screamed from the side.

"This isn't your office, Belinda." Murphy reminded.

"Oh? Isn't it? Do you believe I'll fire you tomorrow! Apologize to Mr. Fres, immediately!"

Murphy rolled his eyes, gritted his teeth, decided not to let this group of people ruin the good mood he had finally achieved, and turned to leave.

"Hey! Freak! You come back! I said apologize, didn't you hear me?" Belinda actually got angry first; she might have drunk a lot today. "Don't ignore me! You can't do this! You idiot! You arrogant, self-righteous idiot!"

Belinda's fat face was oily and shiny, and her eyes looking at Murphy were like looking at a bug.

"Do you think you were able to enter the Ministry because you got many excellent grades? Idiot! You are nothing! You actually wanted to join the Aurors! Wishful thinking! Your dead parents were Dark Wizards! You will never pass the background check! If it weren't for Dumbledore's recommendation letter, I would have fired you long ago!"

Belinda said, laughing meanly.

"Do you think we don't understand when you speak Chinese?"

"Quack quack quack quack, just like a duck, don't know where you learned it, quack."

Belinda's thick lips opened and closed, imitating a duck, and Moore followed suit and quacked twice, then the two looked at each other and giggled.

"Speaking of which, this guy also has black hair, maybe he's an East Asian bastard born to Sanders and a Chinese Muggle..."

"Enough." Murphy said suddenly.

"Are you going to order me, do you think you are..."

"I! Said! Enough!" Murphy glared at Belinda.

The latter was momentarily captured by his momentum and really didn't dare to speak again.

"Hah." Murphy looked up and took a deep breath, then looked at Belinda with incomparable sincerity. "Belinda, you are a pig."

"I sympathize with you. I know that such an ugly girl like you must have had a very bad time when you were young, so you wanted to get flattery, so even an ugly monster like Moore, you would sleep with him, because no one loves you."

"If you weren't really too nauseating, I would sympathize with you, really."

"But you are just too disgusting. So, go die, sow."

"You!!" Belinda was so angry that her fat body shook, and she subconsciously went to grab her wand, but Murphy had already pulled out his wand one step ahead. "Viravito!"

Belinda's already very round figure expanded a large circle again, turning into a balloon and floating to the ceiling.

Watching this scene, Murphy felt inexplicably comfortable.

This is what suits you, Aunt Marge.

"Belinda!" Moore screamed, "How dare you!"

He screamed and rushed up, then was smashed in the face by Murphy's fist, crying in terror while covering his face.

Got what he deserved, fulfilled his wish.

Murphy was happy for him.

"Bombarda!" Fres seized the opportunity behind Murphy and chanted the spell.

Murphy didn't even look, waved his wand, "Shield Charm!"

Then he turned around and kicked Fres in the stomach, knocking him to the ground, and his left hand grabbed a beer glass and smashed it on the other's face.

Fres fell down with a face full of blood.

"Now your face is symmetrical."

"Don't thank me, this is what I should do."

Now there is only one left.

Dolph was full of terror. "I, I didn't say anything..."

"Okay, okay," Murphy patted his face, "Don't be afraid, it doesn't hurt. Suspension Charm!"

A dwarf was hung on the beam.

You can finally look down on others.

Are you happy, Dolph, Director?

The tavern was left with only the groans and cries of a few people, and the other customers looked at Murphy in terror. The latter suddenly sighed.

"Sigh, a bunch of idiots. I'm also an idiot, playing with idiots for so long."

Murphy shook his head, suddenly wanting to laugh but couldn't, and finally took out his last gold Galleon from his pocket and placed it on the bar.

"Sorry, Mrs. Rosmerta, this is compensation."

After finishing, he Apparated and left the tavern.

Almost subconsciously, he came to Charing Cross Road again.

It was already late at night, but the streets of London were still brightly lit. Just now he was in a medieval fantasy-style tavern, and now seeing this prosperous secular world, Murphy actually felt like he was in a dream.

He was suddenly a bit lost.

The world I live in, is it this brightly lit civilized city, or that wonderful magical English village?

Am I a wizard?

Or a Muggle?

But this kind of literary philosophical thought quickly slipped out of his mind, and he had to consider his life ahead.

Beat up the immediate superior, the immediate superior's lover, the son of the immediate superior's superior, and a dwarf.

The Ministry of Magic basically doesn't need to be visited again.

For losing that job, Murphy felt nothing but the joy of wanting to sing a song, besides relief.

But no job means no money.

And just now, to be cool to the end, he actually gave his last gold Galleon to that plump landlady.

Ah! That damn fullness!

Murphy felt his pocket; there were only three Knuts and a card.

Three Knuts!

A piece of English blood sausage that tasted worse than anything in the world wouldn't cost just this price!

Is he going to drink the northwest wind tomorrow?

Headache!

Take another look at that card.

David Stik?

How is this thing still in my pocket?

But immediately, he clenched the business card.

After beating up Belinda, the mania that had been accompanying him since entering the Ministry of Magic suddenly disappeared.

At this moment, he was more peaceful than at any time in the past few months.

Perhaps, this is fate?

Originally, I wanted to be a wizard peacefully.

Originally, I just wanted to let myself be intoxicated in that utopian dream fairy tale like them.

But alas.

Fate seems to have other arrangements for me.

Throwing the three Knuts into a basin next to a homeless man's feet, regardless of the man's blank look after picking up the coins, Murphy walked toward a red telephone booth on the street.

International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy?

Fuck it!

I want to make money!

"David Stik? Let's set a place, let's talk."

(End of chapter)