Slug Club

That evening, Oren tidied up and prepared to attend the Slug Club hosted by Slughorn.

At the entrance of the Gryffindor Tower, Oren met up with the two little ones and Will.

On the way Will remarked, "I never expected the young master to invite me to such a formal gathering. This is only the second time I've attended an event like this."

"A second time? You, a petty thief and dark wizard, have participated in official events?"

"Of course, I still vaguely remember the black wizard's crime-solving exchange meeting in Knockturn Alley that year."

Oren...

Two little ones...

After reminiscing about the grand occasion of yesteryear, Will said, "According to intelligence, Slughorn likes to invite people with potential. If it weren't for the young master's invitation, I really wouldn't have been able to participate."

Oren pursed his lips. "It's fine, you give yourself your identity. You can say you're the Nine Thousand Years Old of the Order of the Phoenix and it won't be a problem."

Will!!!

Stepping into Slughorn's office, the interior space was enormous, clearly expanded using magic. Old Deng was overjoyed to see them arrive.

As Oren's versatile steed, Will quickly struck up a conversation with Slughorn in his capacity as the ninth-ranking Order of the Phoenix, effectively diverting Oren's attention.

Poor Harry was in a bad situation; Slughorn was introducing the Savior to everyone, and he was surrounded by a crowd like a ghost.

Left standing to the side, Hermione said, "I thought you'd be dragged along too."

Oren shrugged. "That's a good idea, but Will will definitely let him know whether the Order of the Phoenix's Avada Kedavra are cuckolded or not, and Slughorn knows that very well."

Hermione...

"What should we do now, Hermione? Eat and drink?"

I recommend the Sugar Quills.

Oren...

Seeing him slumped listlessly in his chair, Hermione rolled her eyes and retorted, "This is a formal party, for goodness' sake! Can't you be serious for once?"

"Everyone I know is like that, okay?"

Hermione crossed her arms and asked, "Then tell me, who else would be just as irresponsible?"

Oren counted on his fingers, "Dumbledore, Grindelwald, Nicolas Flamel, Newt Scamander... these old guys are the anxious type and don't count."

Hermione...

Will ran back, wiping his sweat, and said, "They're all a bunch of useless bastards, talking a lot of nonsense."

Hermione: "Professor Will, these people actually do have some influence."

"Come on, what's that old saying again? 'My neighbor hoards grain, I hoard guns.' My neighbor is my granary," Oren scoffed. "If they're so capable, why don't they fight the Death Eaters?"

"Yes!" Will chimed in, "Miss Granger is still young and needs more practice."

Hermione...

Oren tossed aside the half-eaten Sugar Quills and asked, "What the hell is that thing? Its eyes look like it's been starving for two Fang."

Will replied, "Based on my years of criminal experience... my years of traveling all over the country, that's a vampire."

Oren was intrigued by the vampire. "Is it strong?"

"Young Master can handle it by simply extending his little finger and igniting a Mars," Will, gesturing with his little finger.

These words, upon hearing Oren's ears, were automatically translated as "unable to withstand the Fiendfyre, he resorted to selling his head for profit."

Hermione's gaze at Will grew increasingly resentful; she knew she and her master had been rambling on for too long.

He stood up decisively, declaring with righteous indignation that he would help the young master expand his network of contacts; anyone who didn't know better would think he was about to embark on a diplomatic mission to the Western Regions.

"Ahem!" Hermione exclaimed, "Look over there, Ginny and Harry are dancing!"

"Oh, that kid. Leaving aside how he's going to explain this to Ron, Snape's definitely off to find Lily right now. I think Harry's starting point is going to be lost sooner or later."

Hermione...

"Forget about all that, let's jump!"

"Ah!" Oren hurriedly refused, "No way, I already gave you back all the dance techniques you taught me, I didn't dare keep a single one!"

Hermione ignored Oren's explanation and insisted on dragging him to the dance floor.

As expected, Oren's dance resembled that of a drunken Troll, even worse than a wooden dummy; at least Master Ye's wooden dummy could produce some feedback.

Oren poured Hermione a glass of fermented grape juice and said, "Look at you, you've made things difficult for yourself again. It's not like you haven't jumped before, why bother?"

Harry chimed in, "Yeah, Oren jumps like a sack of potatoes."

Oren paused for only a moment before launching into a personal attack. "You'll be Harry Snape sooner or later."

Harry!!!

Days passed by, and Christmas was just around the corner. After several busy days, Mr. Ao still had to keep busy.

In the Headmaster's Office, Grindelwald leisurely read the newspaper, while Oren and Will were miserably reviewing documents.

"Old Deng, can't you lend a hand? Come and approve all these documents."

Grindelwald didn't even look up. "The Hogwarts documents are signed with Grindelwald's name?"

"Old Deng, you..."

"No! Albus n't let me imitate his handwriting to sign my name."

Oren...

Old Deng tossed aside his newspaper, rested his hands on the back of his head, and said, "You can't possibly send me on field missions, can you? I'm nominally the Dark Lord now, and I'm a dead man too."

Gellert Grindelwald was incredibly arrogant.

"It's alright, it's just faking death, right? Everything will be fine after we kill the You-Know-Who."

"As for the Dark Lord's reputation... first be the Dark Lord, then clear his name. Nurmengard wasn't wasted, and Hogwarts wasn't for nothing."

"Coal Ball? Headmaster Dumbledore's a pro. I refuse to believe I can't squeeze every last drop out of you, you old ox, in my lifetime."

Grindelwald...

A flicker of firelight from the fireplace, Percy rolled out.

A face with red hair and dark circles under the eyes made Oren think that some kind of evil spirit had entered the house, which frightened him so much that he silently recited the Golden Light Mantra several times.

Grindelwald hesitated and said, "Isn't this kid just a lowly official in the Department of Department of Magical Law Enforcement? Is the workload at the Ministry of Magic this heavy these days?"

Percy, filled with resentment, was in no way afraid of the Dark Lord.

"Work intensity? A petty official? Guess who did Sirius Black's job? Thank goodness Merlin at least knew how to tie his own shoelaces!"

"You should find a Troll to replace Sirius Black. At least Troll only look for food when they're hungry, instead of actively seeking trouble!"

Even our first Dark Lord was momentarily suppressed by the resentment of the worker Percy.

"Calm down, Percy. It's not worth getting yourself worked up," Oren one who started it all, advised.

Percy took a big gulp of whiskey and said, "I'm here to tell you that Piers Thicknesse, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, has been struck by the Imperius Curse."

"Okay, I've finished speaking. I need to go back and deal with this two-foot-thick pile of documents."

The people in the Headmaster's Office...

Oren said, "Release that director, let Sirius Black fill in, and the vacant spot will be given to Percy."

Grindelwald spat out a mouthful of whiskey. "Shouldn't you be lightening the burden on that kid?"

"What are you joking about, old man? This place Britain, so if it's so useful, we'll definitely use it to the extreme!"

Grindelwald!!!

Will!!!

Poor Percy has no idea that his workload is about to surpass that of a typical office worker in 2025, heading straight for the level of a corporate dog in 2077.