Harry Potter Short Stories

Muggle Witch

‘The same problem, Fernsby?’

‘The very same, Minister.’

The Minister for Magic had got used to Fernsby’s presence in her office by now, as she’d been stuck with the same problem with him for quite a while. He seemed like he started getting bored with it, but the Minister couldn’t blame him; she started getting bored too. Nevertheless, she felt a certain yearning to her father-in-law, Arthur Weasley, whom, she was quite sure, would’ve been more than pleased to take over this case and investigate himself, a couple more times than he had originally planned notwithstanding.

The Minister sighed and pushed the file she was checking away. She’d be kidding nobody but herself if she said that she wasn’t expecting this problem to last for quite a while; it had looked suspicious since the very beginning.

Fernsby seemed to sense his boss’ impatience bubbling and threatning of spilling out all over him, so he took a step forward and handed her an emarld file. The Minister took it and examined it with the corners of her eyes suspiciously, highly aware of what it was and the purpose it was sent to her for. Even though, she put it aside and raised an eyebrow at Fernsby.

He cleared his throat. ‘Skye Grace has requested to have her CV given to you, Minister. She said that the CV is a-’

‘I know what that is, Fernsby. If you haven’t noticed, I'm Muggle-born.’

Fernsby winced, an ashamed expression taking all over his face, as if he had just insulted the Minister - or perhaps it was because that he was ashamed that a Muggle-born is the Minister, is his boss?

He shifted on his feet. ‘Of course, Minister - I - Forgive my -’

But the Minister wasn’t listening. An idea had just occured to her, and she sat straighter in her seat. ‘Fernsby, have you - Are you quite sure - Have you checked that Skye Grace isn’t a witch?’

He looked disappointed after he looked quite delighted at the Minister’s sudden burst of excitement. ‘We did, Mini-’

‘Are you sure that her name is Skye Grace, then?’ The Minister pressed on.

‘I —’ Fernsby took a moment to consider it. He finally got to a conclusion, and shook his head. ‘I am, Minister. We’ve got her whole family questioned, forced memories of her childhood out of them, and under your orders, we have checked her paperwork with the Prime Minister of the Muggles. All seems well.’

The Minister exhaled imptiently, then lept up to her feet. She paced through her office, muttering to herself, ignoring the very bewildered Fernsby watching her.

She went all over everything she knew so far.

‘A month ago, a Muggle got into The Ministry of Magic. She didn't Disapparate or use the Floo Powder or the telephone box, but got in like ordinary Ministry workers; by the toilet things. She skipped having her wand checked — as, for obvious reasons, she had none — and it went unnoticed by the guard.’ The Minister stopped, she seemed like she was getting somewhere. Why hadn’t the guard noticed her? ‘She met me at the escalators, asked if I was the Minister for Magic, then requested for a job at the Ministry.

‘We thought this was some sort of a joke. She was checked for any jinxes, hexes, or curses, but none were found on her. We couldn’t explain how she knew everything — about Hogwarts and magic and the Minsitry. We asked how she knew about us and for how long, but she wouldn’t reply but insisted on having a job given to her. She didn’t seem to understand quite how things ran at the wizarding world, and yet, she seemed to know exactly what she was doing, what she was asking for.