Chapter 23 How Can There Be a Deputy Minister Who Is 38 Years Old in the World!

Early in the morning,

Rove woke up from his sleep.

He was lying on a large antique bed, with a soft feather bed under him and a goose feather pillow behind his head. Although the bed curtains were drawn, the carved bedposts and the velvet canopy above his head could still be seen.

He lifted the quilt, pulled open the bed curtains, got off the bed, and walked towards the window.

The room was large and beautifully decorated, with a very light scent in the air... fragrant but not greasy, and helpful for sleeping.

Rove pulled open the heavy brocade curtains, stood by the window, and looked up:

There was a sea of ​​clouds formed by the gorgeous morning glow on the horizon, and the sunlight was scattered on the river in the distance, sparkling, like grains of gold scattered on the ground.

Looking down from a slightly higher place, the scenery inside the entire manor was also beautiful. In the middle was a magnificent building shining in the sun.

Pyramid!

Rolf admired it for a while and started to wash up. Hot water and all toiletries were ready in the bathroom.

In the compartment of the room, there was actually a house elf hidden, but it hid and would not appear in front of Rolf unless necessary.

The sign of a good house elf is that you don't even know it exists.

Rolf changed his clothes and walked out of the room slowly. In front of him was a long and wide corridor with mahogany doors on both sides.

These rooms are probably guest rooms.

After arriving at the manor last night, I took a walk under Nico's guidance. After dinner, it was already late at night.

Then, Rolf and Newt stayed in two rooms.

The boy walked to Newt's room. He pressed the doorbell, but there was no response after pressing it several times. It seemed that Newt had left the room.

Rolf was about to leave when the door opposite suddenly opened and an old man walked out. The man was thin, wearing a gray robe, and his eyes were also gray, and his eyes were as sharp as a knife.

The old man greeted him and said, "Hey, Rolf."

Rolf was stunned for a moment, and he said in surprise, "Principal Dippet..."

Armando Dippet was Dumbledore's predecessor. When Tom Riddle was still in school, he was the principal of Hogwarts.

After he retired, he handed Hogwarts to Dumbledore... It's been almost half a century, and I didn't expect that he is still alive.

The boy wanted to say "You are not dead yet", but when the words came to his lips, he swallowed them back and wanted to change them to "You are still alive"... But it seems to mean the same thing.

Rove froze in place, thinking about more appropriate words. Dippet stretched out his hand covered with age spots, patted his shoulder, and smiled:

"Don't be nervous, kid. I've heard my portrait mention you many times. Although we meet for the first time today, we are old acquaintances... Relax."

"You did a good job in the Chamber of Secrets. I didn't find Tom Riddle's abnormality back then, and it caused the death of Myrtle Warren. Thank you very much for catching the basilisk."

"You're welcome." Rove waved his hand hurriedly.

He was indeed a little nervous. A being you thought died decades ago suddenly stood in front of you one day... Anyone would be nervous!

"Let's go, let's go have breakfast." Dippet smiled and walked along the corridor towards the restaurant.

Rove followed behind and asked cautiously: "Professor Dippet, excuse me, how old are you this year?"

"More than 300 years old." Dippet thought for a while and shook his head and said: "I can't remember the details. I only know that year, Ferdinand III was elected as the Holy Roman Emperor."

In the corridor, there are many portraits hanging. One of the knight portraits suddenly shouted:

"Sir, Ferdinand III was elected as the Holy Roman Emperor in 1637. I died in battle that year!"

"What a pity." Dippet said.

"..."

Petit led Rove eastward through a vaulted corridor and walked into a lobby decorated with Italian marble.

In the lobby, there were scattered wizards sitting, chatting and eating breakfast.

These people were obviously here to attend the funeral.

"Armando, is this your great-grandson? First time seeing you." A wizard suddenly said loudly.

It was an old man, beardless, with deep eyes, sunken cheeks, and few hairs left, only a few tufts above his ears.

"He is Newt's grandson." Pettit explained with a smile.

"Newt, even that kid has a grandson? The last time I saw him, he was the same age as this boy."

The bald old man was a little emotional, he recalled: "I remember that Newt violated the "Law on Reasonable Restraint of Underage Wizards" I formulated at the time and used magic outside of school..."

"Later, I heard that he was expelled not long after." The old man laughed and glared at Rove:

"Boy, you didn't use magic outside of school during the summer vacation, did you?!"

"..."

"Child, don't listen to his nonsense." A very small hunchbacked witch came over.

The witch was also very old, with wrinkles all over her face, like a spider web. She stretched out her hand and said:

"I'm glad to meet you. My name is Griselda Marchbank. I'm the director of the Wizarding Examinations Administration. I'll be your invigilator for all your exams and tests in the future."

"Of course." Marchbank blinked and said, "Only if you haven't been expelled from Hogwarts like your grandfather."

"..."

Rove certainly knew Griselda Marchbank. He stretched out his hand and said respectfully:

"I heard my grandpa mention you. He said that you gave him a lot of help in establishing the "Law on the Prohibition of Animal Breeding Experiments."

"Little guy, don't flatter me too much. I will help you even more." The bald old man smiled again:

"Guess who I am, if you guess it right, there will be a reward."

"As far as I know, the "Reasonable Restraint of Minor Wizards Act" was passed by Minister Faris Spavin in 1875." Rove thought for a while and said

"Since you said you made it, and at your age, it must be Secretary Spavin, am I right?"

"Haha, it's me! The greatest minister in the history of the British Ministry of Magic!" The old man laughed.

"Great? I only know that if you choose the most annoying minister, you will definitely be elected." Marchban said sarcastically:

"If it weren't for the opposition of our Wizengamot back then, you old guy would still be planning to continue occupying the position of minister!"

Faris Spavin became minister in 1865, when he was 109 years old, and he served for another thirty-eight years, making him the longest-serving minister in history.

The deputy minister at the time, seeing that Spavin was already very old, thought that after two years at most, the old man would die, and he would be able to take over the minister's post as deputy minister.

Unexpectedly, Spavin had been on standby for a long time. When the deputy minister was about to die, he left the famous last words:

How can there be a deputy minister who has been serving for thirty-eight years?

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