Gasp, I'm Growing a Brain

On the bedside table sat a glass of warm water that had been forgotten to be drunk and a small Muggle clock. The four-poster single bed next to the table was clearly modeled after Hogwarts School, indicating that the blonde woman sleeping casually on the bed was still single.

Judging from the few wrinkles around her eyelids, the woman was over thirty years old, but there was still a hint of girlish innocence on her cheeks. She seemed to be sleeping restlessly, with a little sweat on her forehead and a few strands of hair sticking to her tightly furrowed brows.

"Ah!"

Bertha Jokins jolted awake, patting her chest with lingering fear, gasping for breath. "What a... so vivid nightmare..."

She dreamt that she was trapped in a closed room, and a House-elf was ordered to guard her, walking around her with a sharp knife for cutting beef.

There was an empty chair in the room, and it seemed as if someone was sitting on it, an unseen yet real person, scrutinizing him with unseen eyes...

Jokins picked up the cold water that had been sitting by his bedside all night and drank it down with gusto. His eyes subconsciously glanced around his home, and the furnishings of the room in his dream involuntarily surfaced in his mind:

The room was spacious, the furniture was expensive, and there were some empty picture frames hanging on the walls.

Only ancient Pure-blood Families would create such Magical portrait, but for some reason, the room's owner had cut up all the drawings, seemingly not wanting the living portraits to discover anything...

"Ring ring! Ring ring!"

The alarm clock suddenly rang, startling Jokins. Just as she instinctively reached for her wand to freeze it, Mr. Weasley's words of advice when he gave her the alarm clock suddenly came to mind.

"Just press the round button on top lightly..."

Jokins murmured to himself, pressing his finger on the small button on top of the alarm clock and gently pushing it down—the alarm clock, which had been vibrating and making a piercing sound, stopped, almost like magic.

Jokins paused for a moment, then felt a strange joy welling up inside him.

This alarm clock was a gift she received when she rotated to the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office as Mr. Weasley's assistant. She was always forgetful and made a mess of the office, which was full of Muggle gadgets. Mr. Weasley couldn't keep her working, so Mr. Weasley gave her this little gadget before she was about to leave for the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes.

The alarm clock is indeed very useful, as it can wake her up on time, but she never remembers the correct way to turn it off, so she has to use Freezing Charm or Confundus Charm to make it stop.

But today...

Jokins scratched his head, intending to repeat the incident several times to write it down so he could talk to Mr. Weasley at work, when he suddenly noticed the number the hands on the monitor were hovering over. He quickly slapped his forehead, slipped out of bed, and got to work:

"Oh no, I'm going to be late..."

A few minutes later, a wooden dining table was set up in front of the open Kitchen. Several old, plain-colored plates held warm bread, irregularly shaped fried eggs, half-burnt sausages, and cups of milk that had been forgotten to be heated.

Jokins had changed out of his pajamas into his work clothes. He hurriedly folded all the food into sandwiches, swallowed them in a few bites, picked up a glass of cold milk and gulped it down, letting out a cold burp.

With a wave of her wand, she used a crude yet simple cleaning spell to clean all the dishes. Without putting them away in the cupboard, she put on her shoes and socks, grabbed her handbag, and headed out.

Clang!

The white-painted wooden door snapped into the frame, its back covered with a dense array of sticky notes listing essential items, unfinished tasks from yesterday, plans for the next few days, and necessities to buy over the weekend.

A few seconds later, the door opened again, and Jokins, looking flustered, went to the fireplace, grabbed a handful of Floo Powder, and stepped inside.

"Ministry of Magic."

"Sorry! Sorry, sorry, please wait a moment!"

Jokins rushed and finally squeezed into the last elevator before he was late, ascending from the Main Hall on the Eighth Floor Underground.

With a grateful and relieved smile on her face, she clutched her handbag and nodded to the people in the elevator car, saying, "Good morning, Mr. Weasley, good morning, Mr. McNair, good morning..."

Percy looked at the hesitant-looking Jokins and smiled gently, "Good morning, Ms. Jokins, I am Percy Weasley from the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

"Oh, another Mr. Weasley!" Jokins exclaimed.

"Just call me Percy. I happen to have a document that you need to pass on to the minister for a response."

"Oh, okay, okay..." Jokins, who had wandered to the Second Floor Minister's Office to do odd jobs, nodded with a serious expression. The next second, however, he turned around and boasted like a child, "Mr. Weasley, let me tell you, I finally managed to turn off that noisy clock properly today..."

"Really? Is it easy to use? Is there anything that needs improvement? I also have an alarm clock that can use Christmas carols as its alarm clock..."

"That sounds great!"

"..."

Soon they arrived at the fourth basement Fourth Floor, where the Department of Magical Creatures Control was located. Walden McNair, from the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures Weasley family, chuckled, whether at Jokins or the Weasleys, it was unclear, and strode out of the elevator.

As the elevator continued upwards, Jokins looked at the father and son and asked, puzzled, "Mr. Weasley, isn't the Department of International Magical Cooperation on the fifth basement level? Why are you continuing upwards?"

Percy glanced at the document in his hand and paused for a moment. What should he say? Because he didn't trust the clueless Miss Bertha Jokins, he had always delivered the documents to the Minister's Office in person.

Arthur, the employee in charge of prohibiting the misuse of Muggle items whose office was located on the second basement Second Floor, took over the conversation with a smile and said, "My son and I have some things to discuss, so he needs to come to my office. Could you please give this document to the minister?"

"Dad..." Percy kept giving him meaningful glances.

Arthur chuckled, as if he hadn't noticed at all. "Thank you for your trouble, Bertha."

"No problem!" Jokins assured him.

As they were talking, the elevator reached the Second Floor. Arthur snatched the documents and handed them to her, then pulled Percy out of the elevator car. The father and son then walked towards the office, pulling and tugging at each other.

As the Golden Gate closed, Percy sighed helplessly, "This will cause trouble, Dad."

"I know you're worried that Jokins might have lost the documents, but did you notice how she was doing just now? She seemed much better and was able to greet and chat with me normally..." Arthur sounded very happy as he earnestly instructed Percy, "Come sit with me for a while, and then go back to her in an hour to get the signed documents. That way, any problems can be addressed promptly."

Percy, being led away by his elderly father, shook his head. "I can go back to my own office and wait. Mr. Crouch left behind a ton of work to do, I..."

"I heard that Amelia Bones has succeeded Crouch as the new Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

"Yes."

"Then you should give her the space to handle her work on her own. That will allow her to get familiar with it and get started faster. Let's go, let's go..." Arthur muttered to himself, and soon brought up what had happened in the elevator earlier. "Walden McNair actually came to work on time. That's rarer than a mobile phone. In the past, unless there were Fantastic Beasts that needed to be executed, he would always be drinking and gambling in the tavern."

Percy frowned slightly. "I've also noticed some things. He always goes to the Department of Mysteries. I've seen him taking the elevator down several times when I delivered documents. Also... people from the Auror Office often appear at the Department of Mysteries."

"This isn't right..." Arthur shook his bald, gleaming head, muttering to himself, "This isn't right, these Death Eater aren't right, I have to tell them..."

"Tell who?" Percy didn't hear clearly, but only received a perfunctory answer from Arthur. He couldn't help but continue to ask, "Dad, what have you and Mom been doing lately? I've seen you two talking mysteriously in the middle of the night several times."

You'll find out later.

Why can't you tell me now?

"..."

The Minister's Office Ministry of Magic, Lower Ground Floor.

Knock knock knock.

"Enter."

When Jokins pushed open the door to the Minister's Office, she found that not only was Minister Cornelius Fudge in the room, but also a Senior Undersecretary sitting across from her attire. The deputy minister was dressed entirely in a vibrant pink, which made his uneven, toad-like face look even stranger. As for his name, she couldn't quite remember.

"Minister Fudge, good morning, and... and..."

When Cornelius Fudge saw the Blonde Lady who was rotating to do odd jobs in his office, he frowned slightly with a hint of disdain, recalling her impressive resume.

Dolores Umbridge's smile vanished quickly, replaced by undisguised disgust in her eyes. In a girlish voice, she uttered sarcastic and cutting words. "Our forgetful, clueless Miss Bertha Jokins, do you even remember what you came to the Minister's Office for?"

The shrill sound was so sharp it hurt his ears, and Jokins, who had no vivid memories of it, was stunned as if he were hearing it for the first time.

So who is she?

To Umbridge, this was yet another sign of forgetfulness. She glanced at the Department of International Magical Cooperation's stamp on the file folder and scoffed, "Give me the documents. You can't even do the simplest thing like delivering documents properly. What use is someone like you in the Ministry of Magic? If it weren't for Crouch's recommendation, you would have been fired long ago. Remember, not dismissed, but expelled..."

"No one will recommend you now, so I hope you can pass the Year-end Assessment!"

Umbridge snatched the document roughly, flashed a fawning smile at Fudge, deftly unsealed it for him, and handed it over.

Fudge witnessed everything that happened in the office, remaining silent throughout. He glanced at the documents, his face darkening. "It's about the Dark Lord again. Newspapers and media from other countries are demanding clear answers! They even want to interview Dumbledore and the eyewitness Harry Potter..."

"These busybodies, these fly-like reporters, and every single day!" Umbridge, feeling deeply sorry for the Minister, gritted her teeth in anger. "Didn't we already clarify things? These people would rather believe Dumbledore than the Ministry of Magic's official statement!"

Upon hearing this, Fudge's face turned even uglier.

Umbridge looked at his face, her smile becoming even more obsequious, "Actually Dumbledore only intends to instill panic in people again. He's trying to seize power by exploiting people's trust in him. Wise Minister, I think you've seen that too, haven't you?"

"But people are willing to believe him!" Fudge said coldly.

"He used a very cunning trick, the clever part of which was the eyewitness..."

"You mean..."

"Harry Potter!" Umbridge explained patiently. "People are willing to believe in a simple student, especially since this lucky little boy has a reputation as the nemesis of the Dark Lord, the Boy Who Lived, and the Chosen One."

Fudge for a moment. "You mean... we can dispel his false reputation and let people know that he is just an ordinary student, even mischievous and playful, repeatedly violating school rules, and with mediocre grades."

Umbridge smiled, but her voice carried a chilling undertone. "As long as this eyewitness stops testifying for Dumbledore."

"But he is a staunch supporter of Dumbledore, and we cannot persuade him."

"Perhaps there's an easier way... You don't know, but a few more Dementor have been born in Azkaban, and we haven't even had a chance to register them yet. Dumbledore questioned our ability to control Dementor, so let's prove him wrong..."

"You!"

Fudge was shaken and looked horrified. He subconsciously looked at the only eavesdropper in the room, but only met a pair of blank eyes. Recalling her illustrious resume and her ability to forget to deliver documents, he breathed a slight sigh of relief before turning to look at his Senior Undersecretary.

Umbridge smiled and advised, "Just as you said, Minister, he is a staunch supporter of Dumbledore."

"No, no." Fudge shook his head repeatedly. This minister, who took office in peacetime, could not accept such a thing. Even in order to seize the power of Minister for Magic, the cowardly Fudge could not order the murder of a young wizard.

Umbridge's eyes flickered, a fleeting sneer crossing her lips before she quickly adopted a affected, girlish smile, "Then we can contact the Daily Prophet to expose Potter's true colors. What do you think of this plan?"

"Let's do it this way for now."

Fudge hurriedly signed the documents and sent Jokins back.

The Senior Undersecretary and the janitor who rotated to the Minister's Office stepped through the Golden Gate and took the elevator down. When they passed the Second Floor, the tall blonde woman tried to get out, but Umbridge mocked, "You should take the documents to the fifth floor, you brainless Jokins!"

"Oh oh..."

When they reached the fifth floor, the man froze and didn't go down. Umbridge glanced at the woman with a blank expression, her voice cold and sharp, completely different from before. "The Department of International Magical Cooperation is on this floor. Take the documents you have there, you foolish Jokins."

"Ah, oh, okay..." Jokins hurriedly ran out, almost stumbling and falling.

Umbridge smiled dismissively, having forgotten what had happened just minutes before. This kind of brainless humanoid giant was truly a perfect fit for the Minister's Office.

The minister couldn't make up his mind, so she helped him.

The elevator descended the shaft to the Eighth Floor Underground. Before the gate opened, Umbridge put on a sweet smile again, walked to the Fireplace Corridor in front of the Main Hall, grabbed a handful of Floo Powder, stepped into the fire, and called out in a sweet, coquettish voice:

"Azkaban."