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"Together? You're going too?"
On the other side of the screen, Edgar chuckled.
"What a coincidence, right? My parents just received notice—they have to go to the Norwegian Ministry of Magic for a two-week official exchange. Something about cross-border management of magical creatures… So, you know~"
He winked at Lynn, making his meaning perfectly clear.
Lynn understood immediately and said flatly:
"Abuse of public office for private gain."
"What nonsense!" Edgar shot back at once.
"This is called rationally utilizing social resources, optimizing summer arrangements, and incidentally conducting cross-cultural exchange and on-site investigation!"
He puffed up proudly.
"See? My reasoning is solid enough to convince my parents. So—are you taking me or not? You're not going alone anyway. One more person won't make a difference."
"Fine, come along. It's not like I can stop you."
"I'll go pack right now!"
That evening, Lynn and Edgar finalized their meeting plan.
"Tomorrow—Vigeland Sculpture Park, Oslo, Norway. At the base of the tallest 'Monolith.'"
Lynn pointed at the map.
"Your parents' Floo Network access should take you straight to the Norwegian Ministry of Magic, right? It'll be easy for you to get there from there."
…
The next morning — British Ministry of Magic, International Floo Network Transfer Center.
Lynn arrived at the familiar departure checkpoint once again.
Coincidentally, the staff member on duty was the same as last time.
"Name. Destination. Purpose."
The wizard asked the routine questions without even looking up.
"Lynn. Oslo, Norway. Tourism."
Lynn handed over his travel authorization.
The wizard glanced at the document, then looked up, seeming to find Lynn vaguely familiar.
He efficiently verified the paperwork, recorded Lynn's wand number and departure time in a massive ledger, and waved him through.
"All documents are in order. Zone C, fireplace 7. Powder is self-service. Next."
Everything proceeded smoothly.
Lynn stepped in front of Fireplace 7 in Zone C.
This fireplace was larger than usual—designed specifically for international travel—spacious enough to accommodate several people at once.
He picked up a handful of shimmering Floo powder, took a breath, and spoke clearly:
"Norway, Magical Arrivals Hall!"
The powder hit the flames—
Whoosh!
Emerald-green fire surged up, engulfing him.
A few seconds later—
He stepped out of a fireplace at the Norwegian arrivals checkpoint.
The hall before him had a distinctly different style from the British Ministry.
Dark wood and pale stone dominated the architecture, with clean, sharp lines.
Huge tapestries depicting Viking longships battling massive beasts hung on the walls.
The air carried the crisp scent of pine and cold.
Staff members in dark blue and deep green robes moved about, their speech carrying a subtle Nordic lilt.
Lynn completed a quick registration and received an entry badge, which he pinned to his chest.
Without lingering, he headed outside.
Pushing open the heavy wooden doors—
Cool, fresh Norwegian air greeted him.
Before him stretched a wide, open cityscape.
Unlike crowded London, the view here felt expansive—
Distant mountains and the faint outline of a fjord visible on the horizon.
The sky was a clear, brilliant blue, dotted with wisps of white cloud.
Lynn drew his wand and cast a Disillusionment Charm.
Then—
With a light leap—
He shot into the air like an arrow, flying toward Vigeland Sculpture Park.
Wind rushed past his ears.
Buildings and green spaces blurred beneath him.
This feeling of free flight—
Especially on a bright morning in a foreign land—
Was exhilarating.
He landed quietly in a secluded corner at the edge of a wooded area within the park and dispelled the charm.
There were already a few early tourists and locals out for morning exercise.
Following their plan, he walked toward the center—
Toward the famous Monolith, a towering column spiraled with countless human figures.
After waiting for a while, he finally spotted a familiar figure.
Edgar.
He was carrying a bulging backpack, craning his neck to look around, excitement written all over his face.
"Edgar."
Lynn stepped up behind him and tapped his shoulder.
"Whoa! You scared me!"
Edgar spun around, then relaxed when he saw who it was.
His eyes swept over Lynn.
"Oh ho~ Young Master Lynn, where's your trunk? Don't tell me…"
He dragged out his tone dramatically.
"You lost it in the Floo Network? Tsk tsk—losing luggage on your first trip abroad? Not a good sign."
Lynn's smile stiffened.
He rolled his eyes.
"Can't you say something nice? The trunk is with Dodo."
"Tsk~" Edgar shook his head.
"Dragging your personal butler everywhere… you rich brat."
"Thanks for the compliment."
Lynn accepted it without changing expression.
"Enough nonsense. Time is limited. According to plan, we'll tour Vigeland Sculpture Park first—experience some Norwegian art—and then head to the Viking Ship Museum. Let's go."
He took the lead, walking deeper into the park among the scattered bronze and granite sculptures.
Edgar hurried after him.
…
Time passed quickly.
After visiting the Viking Ship Museum and buying a few magical materials on Oslo's wizarding street—
It was already 8 PM.
"Hungry…"
Edgar rubbed his stomach.
The excitement had worn off, replaced by hunger.
Lynn checked the time.
Dinner hour.
Norwegian summer evenings lingered—
But hunger didn't wait.
"Let's go," Lynn said, patting Edgar's shoulder.
"I'll take you to try some Norwegian specialties. Fair warning—some dishes might be… very local. Try not to throw up."
"As long as it's not alive, I'll try anything!" Edgar declared, thumping his chest.
Relying on prior research—and the advantage of his Language Mastery—
Lynn led Edgar through several streets to a bustling restaurant.
They pushed open the heavy wooden door.
Warm light and the rich aroma of food washed over them.
The restaurant was already lively.
Most customers were plainly dressed locals, though a few were clearly wizards—visible from wand handles peeking from robes and subtle gestures during conversation.
A waitress in a traditional embroidered apron approached with a warm smile.
"God kveld! (Good evening), gentlemen. Do you have a reservation?"
She spoke Norwegian first, but quickly switched to accented yet fluent English upon noticing they were foreigners.
"Good evening. No reservation—table for two," Lynn replied—in flawless Norwegian.
The waitress blinked slightly in surprise.
"This way, please. We have just one table left."
She led them to a seat by the window and handed them menus.
"Here you are. Drinks are listed on the back. Would you like me to recommend today's specials?"
"We'll take a look first."
Lynn handed the menu to Edgar.
"Go ahead—order whatever you like."
Edgar eagerly took the menu, decorated with moose antlers and runic patterns, and opened it—
Three seconds later—
His expression froze.
Excitement → confusion → complete blankness.
He flipped the menu back and forth, hesitating over a few dishes that looked relatively safe—"fish" and "meat."
After a long struggle—
He gave up.
The menu slid back across the table.
Lynn turned to him knowingly.
"What's wrong? Nothing you like? Norwegian cuisine is quite diverse."
"Is it that I don't want to order?!"
Edgar nearly slammed the table.
His face flushed slightly as he forced the words out through gritted teeth:
"I don't know Norwegian! Not a single word!"
Lynn finally burst out laughing.
Then he turned to the waitress and began ordering fluently:
"We'll start with Røkt laks—smoked salmon—with sour cream and dill bread."
"For mains: one roast reindeer with lingonberry sauce."
"One serving of lutefisk—lye-cured cod—with potatoes, pea purée, and bacon."
"A portion of dried cod to sample."
"And… cod tongue and liver stew. That one sounds interesting."
"One pot of Norwegian lamb and cabbage stew."
"For cheese, your brown cheese—grilled slices."
"Finally, two reker på brød—shrimp sandwiches on rye bread."
"For drinks, two glasses of local mountain spring water to start. Thank you."
He finished the entire order in one smooth breath.
The waitress wrote everything down quickly, unable to hide a few extra glances.
It was rare for foreign tourists to order so many authentic dishes—especially things like lutefisk and cod offal stew, which many couldn't handle.
Although Edgar didn't understand a word of what was ordered—
The length of the list—and the waitress's expression—
Told him enough.
He leaned in and whispered:
"What did you order? Is there anything I can actually eat? None of it's alive, right? No weird bugs?"
"Relax."
Lynn closed the menu and handed it back, turning to Edgar with an innocent smile.
"They're all authentic Norwegian specialties. Guaranteed to give you a true Nordic experience."
"Like that dried cod—and the stew. The flavor is… very unique. Kind of like a mix of caramel and cheese."
He smiled faintly.
"You'll definitely be deeply impressed."
Hearing that description—especially "very unique" and "deeply impressed"—
Edgar felt even more uneasy.