In the first week after Easter, the Ministry of Magic changed too.
Overnight, notices about June covered the atrium.
The top of the noticeboard now bore black lettering.
"Notice of the June wartime administrative competency assessment."
Queue tickets and acknowledgment slips were tucked beneath it.
Employees emerged from the fireplaces.
First they looked up, then they stopped.
Then they began complaining.
"What new gimmick is it this time?"
"Wartime, wartime. They can pin anything on wartime."
"I just want to hand in yesterday's dossier."
"Before you hand it in, collect a handbook."
"And you have to sign."
"That quill at the entrance records late arrivals by itself."
Two long tables stood in the middle of the atrium.
The left one handed out handbooks.
The right one collected feedback forms.
The long queue wound around the base of the fountain.
Some people held coffee.
Some carried file boxes.
Others were staring blankly at the new flowchart.
There were new additions outside every office.
A sign-in quill.
A document filing box.
A simplified flowchart.
And a small card of detailed rules.
At the very bottom of the card were the words "trial phase."
Those words put no one at ease.
Percy stood behind the long table on the left.
His cuffs were rolled up neatly.
A temporary assignment badge was pinned to his chest.
The gold-edged International Affairs Office nameplate was still very new.
He handed out handbooks with his left hand.
With his right, he recorded feedback.
He also had to look up now and then.
"Next."
"Name."
"Department."
"Take your handbook."
"Write your feedback on the last three pages."
"Entries in the anonymous section count as records too."
His voice was steady.
Not a word was wasted.
Someone tried to slip in a complaint or two.
Barely had they begun