Chapter 3: To Hell with the Wizarding Secrecy Act (Edited)

After a few butterbeers, the rage in Murphy's heart that was about to burst finally quieted down temporarily.

"Damn the magical disasters! Damn Millicent!" Orton slurred his curse.

"Right, damn!"

Murphy raised his glass and clinked it with Orton's.

"Damn Merlin! Damn the wizards!" Orton continued to shout.

"Right, damn!"

Murphy agreed with the toast and drank another.

"Damn The Three Broomsticks! Damn Rosmerta!"

"Right! Uh..."

Murphy glanced at the barmaid, whose gaze had shifted towards them, the glass in her hand looking very throwable.

"No, not this one, damn something else."

"Clang." Orton fell asleep.

Murphy suddenly felt much better, ignoring his companion, settled the bill at the bar, and was about to leave when he heard someone shouting: "Hey, dark wizard bastard!"

A table not far from him was occupied by a few familiar faces.

Dwarf Dorf, sycophant Moore, and balloon aunt, oh no, fat ball Belinda.

"Murphy Darkholm, heard you joined the Ministry?"

Murphy looked at the speaker for a while.

"Big brother, who are you?"

The wizard's face twitched, along with a scar at the corner of his eye wriggling like a centipede.

"Idiot! You don't even recognize who he is! Frese Shafiq! He's the son of Director Babbington!"

Moore scolded Murphy sharply while simpering at Shafiq, his face switching between haughty and obsequious, astonishing Murphy.

Wow, are you a Metamorphmagus performing a face-changing act here?

"Oh!!" Murphy suddenly realized, "Frese! The one I made cry in third grade? What, your face doesn't hurt anymore?"

Frese stood up with a "bang," the scar Murphy had left seemingly throbbing again.

"Murphy, you're insane! Apologize to Mr. Frese now!" Belinda screamed on the side.

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

"Oh? Is it not? Believe it or not, I'll have you fired tomorrow! Apologize to Mr. Frese, now!"

Murphy rolled his eyes, gritted his teeth, decided not to let these people ruin his mood, and turned to leave.

"Hey! Freak! Come back here! Did you not hear me asking you to apologize?" Belinda actually got angrier, she might have drunk quite a bit today, "Don't ignore me! You can't do this anymore! You idiot! You conceited, arrogant idiot!"

Belinda's fat face was shiny, her gaze at Murphy like looking at a bug.

"Do you think you got into the department because you scored many Excellents? Idiot! You're nothing! And you even thought of joining the Aurors! Delusional! Your dead parents were dark wizards! You'll never pass the background check! If it wasn't for Dumbledore's recommendation letter, I would've fired you long ago!"

Belinda said, sneering.

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

"Gaga gaga, like a duck quacking, don't know where you learned it, gaga."

Belinda's thick lips opened and closed, imitating a duck's quack, Moore also mimicked a few times, then the two looked at each other and laughed foolishly.

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

"Enough." Murphy suddenly said.

"You're ordering me? You think you are..."

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

She was momentarily intimidated by his presence, actually daring not to speak anymore.

"Sigh." Murphy took a deep breath, then looked sincerely at Belinda, "Belinda, you're a pig."

"I pity you, I know a girl as ugly as you must have had a hard time when young, so you want to be flattered, so even someone as ugly as Moore, you'd sleep with him because no one loves you."

"If you weren't really too repulsive, I would pity you, really."

"But you're just too disgusting. So, go to hell, sow."

"You!!" Belinda, furious, her fat trembling, instinctively reached for her wand, but Murphy was quicker to draw his, "Engorgio!"

Belinda's already plump body inflated even more, becoming balloon-like and floating to the ceiling.

Watching this scene, Murphy felt oddly satisfied.

That's more like it, Aunt Marge.

"Belinda!" Moore screamed, "How dare you!" He rushed up, only to receive a punch from Murphy, crying in terror as he covered his face.

Asking for a hammer, and getting hammered, as desired.

Murphy was happy for him.

"Pulverizing Curse!" Frese took the chance to cast a spell from behind Murphy.

Without looking back, Murphy waved his wand, "Protego!"

Then turned around and kicked Frese in the stomach, knocking him down, and grabbed a beer mug to smash on his face.

Frese, bloodied, fell.

"Now your face is symmetrical."

"No need to thank me, it's what I should do."

Now only the last one remained.

Dorf was terrified, "I, I didn't say anything..."

"Alright, alright," Murphy patted his face, "Don't worry, it won't hurt. Levicorpus!"

A dwarf was hung from the ceiling beam.

Now you can finally look down on others.

Are you happy, Director Dorf? The pub was left with only the moans and cries of a few people, the other patrons staring at Murphy in horror, who suddenly sighed.

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

Murphy shook his head, suddenly seeming to want to laugh but didn't, finally taking out his last Galleon and placing it on the bar.

"Sorry, Mrs. Rosmerta, this is for the damages."

Then he Disapparated from the pub.

...

Almost subconsciously, he found himself on Charing Cross Road again.

It was late at night, but the streets of London were still brightly lit. Just coming from a medieval fantasy style pub to this bustling metropolis, Murphy felt as if he was in a dream.

He suddenly felt lost.

Is the world I live in this bright modern city, or that magical English village?

Am I a wizard?

Or a Muggle? But this philosophical musing quickly slipped from his mind, and he had to think about his future life again.

Having fought with his direct supervisor, his supervisor's lover, his supervisor's boss's son, and a dwarf.

The Ministry of Magic was basically out of the question now.

As for losing that job, Murphy felt nothing but relief and the desire to sing joyously.

But no job meant no money.

And in a final act of defiance, he had even given his last Galleon to that voluptuous landlady.

Ah! That damned fullness!

Murphy felt his pocket, finding only three Knuts and a card.

Three Knuts! Not even enough for a poorly-tasting English blood sausage! Was he going to starve tomorrow?

Headache! Glancing at the card again.

David Steek? Why is this still in my pocket? But then, he clenched the business card tight.

After hitting Belinda, that irritability that had been with him since he entered the Ministry of Magic suddenly disappeared.

At this moment, he was calmer than any other time in the past few months.

Maybe this is fate?

Originally, I just wanted to be a simple wizard.

Originally, I only wanted to immerse myself in that utopian fairy tale world like them.

But alas.

Fate seems to have other plans for me.

Tossing the three Knuts into a pan next to a homeless man's feet, not caring about the man's bewildered look as he picked up the coins, Murphy walked towards a red telephone booth on the street side.

The Wizarding Secrecy Act? To hell with it!

I need to make money! "David Steek? Let's meet somewhere, we need to talk."