HP: Man of Archives

In the morning, I was already at the Malfoy residence, waiting for the gates to open. With a spell, I summoned a clock and realized I had arrived a few minutes earlier than the appointed time. That was fine; I didn't mind waiting. But honestly, I felt he should have been prepared for me to arrive a little early.

At the exact appointed time, the gates began to open slowly. On the other side, a young house-elf awaited me. A distinctive feature of his appearance was a partially severed left ear.

"Master Jody," he addressed me. "Master and Mistress are expecting you. Allow me to transport you into the house."

"Go ahead," I replied with a nod.

The house-elf approached and turned toward me, offering his shoulder. When I touched him, I felt the abrupt pull of magical transportation, and within seconds, we were inside a familiar corridor. Waiting for me were Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco.

Draco didn't look well. The first thing that caught my eye was a scar stretching across his face, from his forehead to his chin. It was clear the wound had been inflicted by something magical. Additionally, his arm was missing, replaced by a metallic prosthetic. These appeared to be the results of the hippogriff attack Hermione had told me about.

Narcissa hadn't changed at all since the last time I saw her. She was still as attractive and radiant as ever. When our eyes met, she smiled and nodded. I nodded back.

Lucius himself hadn't changed much either, though there was an unease and fatigue in his gaze. He looked like a man eager to rid himself of a burden, and I could understand that—especially if he was keeping my gold somewhere on his property.

"Good morning," I greeted them.

"Mr. Jody," Lucius replied, extending his hand for a handshake. "I'm glad to see you in good health."

"Thank you, it's good to see you as well," I said with a nod. "I see young Draco had an unfortunate encounter with a magical beast…"

"Yes," Lucius agreed. "But I've already taken measures. The perpetrator will be punished in the near future."

"It was the gamekeeper, wasn't it?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Tsk-tsk-tsk," I clicked my tongue disapprovingly.

To be honest, I felt sorry for Hagrid. He was a decent man, and it wasn't entirely his fault. One shouldn't provoke a dangerous magical creature. And knowing Draco's audacious behavior, I could easily imagine how he might have antagonized the semi-sentient beast.

"If it weren't for Dumbledore, the Dementors would have kissed him a long time ago," Narcissa suddenly said. "His beast went berserk, killed several Ministry employees, and tried to escape. If not for an Auror from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, the hippogriff would have gotten away."

"Is that so…" I murmured. "Such a pity."

Hermione had already told me about the incident, including who was truly responsible for the deaths of the Ministry clerks and for framing Hagrid—none other than Harry Potter. That boy was a magnet for trouble and misfortune, both for himself and those around him.

If Hagrid had intentionally set the hippogriff on people, he would have deserved punishment. But in the case of the clerks' deaths, he wasn't directly to blame—or at least, that's what I believed.

"Well, let's not focus on that," I said, waving my hand dismissively.

"Indeed," Lucius agreed. "Allow me to invite you to breakfast."

"Thank you."

We proceeded to one of the many halls in this sprawling house. The silence between us was heavy; no one felt the need or inclination to speak. There was no point in exchanging pleasantries—once breakfast was over, we could get down to business.

Breakfast was simple and light—perfect for a calm conversation.

"By the way, we never had the chance to congratulate you on your new position," Lucius began. "Becoming the headmaster of a magical school, especially Beauxbatons, is a significant achievement for someone your age."

"Thank you," I nodded. "If not for the anomaly, I wouldn't have had such an opportunity for quite some time. But what's done is done. You can't turn back time."

"True," Narcissa agreed, casting a quick glance at Draco. "And how do you find the school? Can you compare it to Hogwarts?"

"Comparing them..." I trailed off, pausing to think. "Beauxbatons is an entirely different institution, with a unique approach to education and a distinct structure for student and staff life. The students aren't better or worse than Hogwarts'—it's just that the system is set up differently."

"Different how?" Lucius asked, raising an intrigued eyebrow.

"The education is more specialized by departments," I explained. "The professors also receive significant support from teaching assistants, among other distinctions."

"How fascinating," Narcissa remarked. "My parents once considered sending me or one of my sisters to Beauxbatons, but we all ended up at Hogwarts."

"Beauxbatons is just a different school," I concluded. "In many respects, it isn't drastically different from Hogwarts. The students still love Quidditch, taking walks, eating well... and all the usual things."

"I see," Narcissa said thoughtfully. "And how about France itself? Was it accepting of an Englishman as the headmaster of the school?"

"Well," I drawled, "Beauxbatons isn't exclusively for French students, as you know. Aside from a few local nationalist French folk, no one objected. And if anyone had tried to, they'd have had to say it to my face. Then we'd see who was right and who was just a fool."

"Now, now," Lady Malfoy said soothingly.

The conversation shifted to more mundane topics like the weather and other trivial matters. Narcissa eagerly shared the latest rumors from the magical world. I wouldn't say they were particularly interesting, but the silence needed filling, and gossip worked just fine.

Draco excused himself after a while, citing other matters that required his attention.

"Mr. Jody, shall we move to my study to discuss a few matters?" Lucius suggested.

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy," I replied with a smirk.

His study hadn't changed at all since my last visit. As soon as the door closed behind me, Lucius began activating concealment spells. But then, something unexpected happened.

An anti-apparition barrier enveloped the entire house, followed by several bursts of apparition magic.

"Ah! How utterly tiresome," Malfoy muttered, his tone tinged with aggression. He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and repeated the process several times. His attempt to regain composure was moderately successful. A cold, impenetrable mask slid over his face, though behind it, emotions simmered—anger, irritation, perhaps anxiety. Emotions he couldn't fully conceal from me. He might have masked them from others, but not from me.

A sound wave rippled through the house, reminiscent of an irritating doorbell chime.

"Mr. Jody, stay here while I deal with the Ministry's dogs," Lucius said. "In the meantime, Dobby will bring you more tea. Dobby."

"Yes, Master," the house-elf responded in a high-pitched voice.

Lucius departed, leaving me to settle comfortably on the couch. Within a minute, Dobby appeared with tea, and I indulged immediately. I couldn't help but wonder about the Ministry's visit. Why would they send their people to a "respectable" member of the wizarding community? Could someone be settling a score? Perhaps…

Ah, well. There was no point in overthinking it. I'd simply observe how things unfolded and decide what to do afterward.

Using a detection spell, I picked up sounds and sensations from around the house. Besides the Malfoys, there were now about a dozen other wizards on the property. They were spreading out and snooping around, their movements difficult to interpret as anything other than a search. After combing through the ground floor, they moved up to the second floor, where Lucius's study was located.

Suddenly, the door to the study burst open with a loud crack, and three wizards entered. Two wore Auror robes, while the third donned unfamiliar attire from another department. His fiery red hair immediately caught my attention. If I wasn't mistaken, only Weasleys had such distinctive hair in the wizarding world.

"Wand on the table," one Auror barked, pointing his wand at me.

The other two followed suit, their wands aimed in my direction. They hadn't recognized me yet, likely because most of my face was obscured behind the teacup I was holding. Slowly lowering the cup, I allowed them a good look at my face. Their reactions? Nothing. Not even a flicker of recognition.

"I won't repeat myself," the Auror snapped.

"Or what?" I asked, leaning back against the couch. "What will you do, Auror?"

"Don't be foolish," the red-haired wizard—Weasley—said, gripping his wand more tightly.

"Alright, alright," I drawled, calmly pulling out my wand and placing it on the table. Sure, I could have started a fight and wiped the floor with all three of them, but why bother? Besides, this wasn't my house, and they weren't here for me.

One of the Aurors approached, picked up my wand, and placed it in a small case before tucking it into his pocket. Curious. What was he trying to prove by confiscating my wand?

Meanwhile, Weasley and the other Auror began pacing the room, waving their wands and casting spells in search of something. They stopped at a large painting of a blond knight. Weasley, without hesitation, pulled out a knife and cut the canvas open. Behind it was nothing but a bare wall, but he didn't stop there. Tapping a specific spot with his wand, he revealed a small, concealed door in the stonework.

Another wave of his wand opened the door, revealing several magical artifacts stored inside.

"Ooooh," one of them drawled. "How interesting. Artifacts. Probably dark magic. Seal them. We'll send them for examination."

As he spoke, I noticed him pocket a few gold coins from the stash with practiced ease.

The other Auror did as instructed, sealing the items with a spell. Then they turned their attention back to me. The red-haired man's tone held no trace of respect as he barked:

"Stand up."

I didn't move. Instead, I asked, my voice calm and even:

"Are you talking to me?"

"Yes, you. Are you deaf or just stupid?" the Auror snapped sharply.

"And what do you intend to do?" I asked, suppressing the anger building inside me. Though I appeared calm, I was ready to explode at any moment.

"What do you think, you bastard?" the Auror said crudely, his words laced with venom. "We're conducting a search for dark artifacts and their confiscation."

"Hmm," I muttered. This didn't feel like a legitimate search at all—more like a blatant shakedown. Should I retaliate now, or bide my time? I had already let them take my wand and tolerated their so-called "search," which seemed more like outright theft from the Malfoys. "What's your supervisor's name? I'd like to speak with them."

"Ha!" the Auror scoffed. "Why don't you ask for more while you're at it?"

"Alright," I said, exhaling heavily. "I've had enough of this."

I stood up and, with a snap of my fingers, disarmed all three of their wands. Another flick of my hand, and the wizards were lifted into the air. They struggled, but without their wands or solid footing, their efforts were pointless.

At that moment, another Auror burst into the room, firing a spell at me. I deflected it effortlessly with my hand, sending the spell crashing into the table, which splintered and collapsed. The attacking wizard soon joined his comrades in midair.

Stepping into the corridor, I systematically disarmed the remaining Aurors throughout the house in under two minutes and dragged them outside. Lucius and Narcissa, who had been watching their home get ransacked, stood to the side, their wide eyes fixed on me.

I dumped the group of Aurors in a heap on the front lawn.

"So, my friends," I began, addressing the disheveled wizards. "What should I do with you?"

"We are Ministry of Magic officials," Arthur Weasley said, his tone firm but wary. "Any action against us will land you in Azkaban."

"Before we get to that," I replied, "I'll be taking my wand back."

With a wave of my hand, I summoned the case containing my wand, returning it to its holster. Drawing it out again, I addressed the group. "Now, let's sort this mess out. How do I summon your superior officer?"

The senior Auror, who seemed to understand the gravity of their situation, cautiously spoke. "I have an emergency communication artifact in my pocket."

"Perfect," I said, nodding as I flipped his pockets inside out with a flick of my wand. Among the items, I found a small artifact, clearly designed for quick communication. "Let's make the call."

Activating the artifact required little effort, and within moments, a stern male voice responded.

"Senior Auror Cowley speaking."

"Inform the Head of the Auror Office to come to Malfoy Manor to retrieve his subordinates," I said evenly. "Otherwise, I might have to deal with them myself."

"And who are you?" Cowley asked sharply.

"Timothy Jody," I replied. "I'll be waiting."

The silence that followed was telling. I could almost feel Cowley scrambling to alert his superior in London. I wasn't sure who held the position these days—it had never been of much interest to me—but I knew they'd be here soon enough.

Ten minutes later, the first apparition flash lit up the grounds, quickly followed by a dozen more. I transfigured a stone throne for myself and sat, waiting for the wizards to approach. They didn't keep me waiting long.

A group of Aurors and several wizards from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement (DMLE) arrived. Among them, one individual stood out: a tall man with long, thick dark blond hair streaked with gray. His large glasses seemed slightly out of place, but I felt no inclination to comment. His attire—a hybrid of robes and a suit—paired with the badge on his chest, identified him as the Head of the Auror Office.

Walking beside him was a woman I recognized immediately: Amelia Bones, Head of the DMLE. She was a renowned duelist, a winner of multiple European dueling championships, and a name spoken with respect across the magical world. She was not someone to take lightly.

The other officials didn't stand out as much. I didn't recognize any of them personally, nor had I heard of them.

"Mr. Jody," the Head of the Auror Office greeted me. "I am Rufus Scrimgeour, and you wished to discuss the actions of Auror personnel. This is Amelia Bones," he added with a nod toward the witch beside him, "Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"That's correct, Mr. Scrimgeour," I replied with a nod. "Your people seem to lack basic respect for others and show no understanding of how a situation might unfold."

"They had a warrant to search the Malfoy estate," Bones interjected. "They were acting on behalf of the Ministry."

"That's wonderful," I said evenly. "But what does this search have to do with me?"

"They were instructed to search everyone present in the house," Bones explained curtly.

"Oh, really," I said, raising an eyebrow. "Then I suppose I could just kill them right here, along with all of you? Or do you believe that being from the Ministry gives you carte blanche to do as you please? If that's the case, I could quickly arrange a... 'restful' vacation for everyone here. Shame it wouldn't last long."

If I were in their place, I'd have attempted to strangle someone as audacious as me by now. But I wasn't in their place—I was the audacious wizard. And while my attitude might seem excessive, the gap in power between us made any resistance on their part utterly futile. I doubted any of them could stop me if things escalated.

"But fine," I said, waving my hand dismissively. "Take your people and leave. I have other matters to attend to."

With a flick of my hand, I released the spell holding the Aurors immobilized, allowing them to slowly rise and recover. The wands I had confiscated earlier clattered to the ground at their feet.

"Thank you, Mr. Jody," Scrimgeour said, his tone strained. I could sense his frustration and hatred for the situation, though he kept it buried beneath a veneer of professionalism. He knew, as I did, that the world is neither simple nor fair. Bones, for her part, refrained from any comments or orders, her stern expression revealing little.

"By the way," I asked, my tone casual, "why are you searching the Malfoys? I understand there's a warrant—but what's it based on?"

There was a pause as Bones and Scrimgeour exchanged glances, clearly searching for an answer. Eventually, they settled on one.

"Narcissa Malfoy may know the whereabouts of Sirius Black," Scrimgeour said carefully.

"I see. Then why conduct the search in such a barbaric manner?" I asked.

Before they could answer, Bones turned abruptly, her eyes narrowing on one of the Aurors. "Mr. Weasley, what are you doing here?" she demanded. "Shouldn't you be at work?"

"Uh..." the red-haired man stammered, his face flushing.

It seemed the Ministry of Magic in England was a tangled web of intrigues, some fascinating, others far less so.

"Alright, we won't take up any more of your time," Scrimgeour said decisively. "We need to sort out what happened here."

"Good," I replied calmly, letting their failure to fully answer my question slide for now. "And don't forget to return the artifacts and gold you stole from Mr. Malfoy's study."

"Stole?" Bones frowned sharply.

With a flick of her wand, she cast a spell designed to detect theft. The moment it activated, gold Galleons and magical artifacts tumbled out of the pockets of Weasley and his accomplices.

Amelia's expression turned stony, and Scrimgeour grimaced. The other wizards exchanged glances, a mix of confusion and disgust on their faces. Few things are more despised than thieves, and even fewer people tolerate theft during an official Ministry operation.

Judging by the lack of surprise, it seemed this wasn't Arthur Weasley's first offense.

"We're leaving," Bones said curtly.

The Ministry wizards departed in haste. It didn't take a prophet to predict that some members of the group were about to face serious consequences. Did I care? Not particularly.

Returning to the Malfoy home, I found Narcissa seated on the couch, sipping tea. She radiated humiliation and offense. Lucius, standing nearby, was practically seething with anger, clearly envisioning painful revenge against the Ministry. Draco sat quietly, his posture dejected and defeated.

"If you don't want to talk about it, I won't press," I said evenly. "Now, shall we get back to our conversation, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Agreed," Lucius replied, exhaling deeply. It was clear he was working to suppress his rage—and succeeding, albeit barely.

We returned to his study. Lucius quickly restored the room to its previous state, clearly unwilling to endure the embarrassment of its disorder. From a hidden compartment, he retrieved a silvery glass pitcher filled with an unfamiliar liquid. Giving it a swirl, he set out two glasses and looked at me questioningly. I nodded.

He poured silently, and we clinked glasses before taking a sip. The spirit was strong, its warmth clearing the mind and cutting through the tension in the room.

"Phew," Lucius exhaled. "I'm sorry you had to witness such a debacle, let alone get involved."

"Has this been happening long?"

"Since last year," Lucius admitted. "It's as if they've gone rabid, and I can't trace where it's coming from. Every month that bastard Weasley shows up with Aurors, and every time, something goes missing from my house."

"Mm-hmm," I murmured. Lucius's well-known "fondness" for Arthur Weasley had always been a source of amusement in the wizarding community. Still, one couldn't help but wonder: why hadn't Lucius crushed him yet? The difference in their power and resources was enormous—more than enough to end this petty harassment. So, why hadn't he acted?

I'd wondered the same thing and didn't have a definitive answer. However, I suspected it had something to do with their histories. Lucius Malfoy had sided with the Dark Lord during the last wizarding war, a cause that ultimately lost. Through clever maneuvering and connections, he avoided most of the repercussions. Arthur Weasley, on the other hand, had been on the winning side—not just as a participant, but as an ally of Albus Dumbledore. Perhaps this gave Weasley the confidence to act so brazenly toward Malfoy, despite his lack of resources. It was hard to say without delving into both their minds.

In the meantime, Lucius activated several artifacts to ensure our conversation remained private. The shimmering glow of protective spells enveloped the room, shutting out prying eyes and ears.

"Lets put this morning's events aside," Lucius began, "I believe it's time to discuss the contract we entered into last year."

"Agreed," I replied.

With a wave of my wand, I summoned a hundred books from my pocket, each detailing the fundamentals of wandless magic. The books filled the room, exponentially expanding the knowledge contained within.

"Here's my part of our contract," I said calmly.

Lucius began flipping through the books, pausing occasionally to read passages that piqued his interest. Of course, he couldn't absorb all the information in one sitting—it would take him months, if not years, to study it all. And since he lacked the magical power for practical application, this wealth of theory would serve more as a legacy for his descendants—assuming one of them had the potential to master wandless magic.

"Thank you," Lucius said with a nod. "Now it's my turn."

He handed me a small slip of paper with coordinates written on it, along with an artifact key.

"At these coordinates, you'll find a vault containing the funds you requested," he explained.

"Excellent."

I disintegrated the slip of paper into the air, committing the coordinates to memory. Discreetly examining the artifact key, I confirmed it was free of any traps or tampering. Everything seemed proper and above board.

"It's been a pleasure doing business with you," I said, rising to my feet. I was eager to investigate the vault. Lucius, too, appeared ready to delve into the books and inform his associates that the contract had been fulfilled.

"Indeed," he agreed, shaking my hand to formally conclude the arrangement. "I hope we can work together again in the future, to our mutual benefit."

My farewell to Narcissa was brief. She was still visibly shaken by the Ministry's intrusion. It couldn't be easy for her to accept that she and her family weren't fully protected from such violations, despite their status. Then again, perhaps she had already known that.

Leaving the Malfoy estate, I put some distance between myself and the manor before apparating to Diagon Alley. From there, I moved to a safe location I was familiar with, a place where I could wait and confirm that I wasn't being followed. Once certain, I prepared to travel to the coordinates Lucius had provided, though not before making several additional stops to ensure absolute caution.

My final jump brought me to the specified location—a narrow mountain gorge carved over millennia by the flow of water. Even now, a cold stream ran along its bottom. Looking around, I noted magical moss clinging to the rocky walls and several rare trees bearing enchanted fruits.

Finding the vault wasn't difficult. A few Revelio spells revealed a small door with a slot for the artifact key. At first glance, the door appeared ordinary, but closer inspection revealed it to be an artifact in itself—capable of killing an unwary treasure seeker.

When I inserted the key, all protective, security, concealment, and alert spells deactivated, leaving only a massive safe.

While I could have barged straight in, that would have been unwise. Malfoy might have laid a non-magical trap, relying on my confidence in my magical prowess. Instead, I opened the safe using a spell and sent in a transfigured human figure, followed by a remote observation spell.

No traps were triggered. Either there were none, or they had been disabled. The spell revealed a large pile of valuable coins inside—a truly impressive sight. Dismissing the transfigured figure and observation spell, I cautiously entered the vault myself.

Moving slowly and carefully, I remained vigilant for any dangers. Nothing happened. It seemed there truly were no traps. Still, I didn't discard the possibility of a hidden danger—a trap so cunning or simple that it might escape notice. Remaining alert, I began to inspect the contents of the vault.

Several detection spells revealed no traps. Other precautionary spells also came up empty. Next, I turned my attention to the gold itself—it was always possible someone had enchanted a coin with a tracking spell or curse.

Despite my thorough examination, I couldn't find anything suspicious or dangerous. If there truly was nothing to worry about, it was time to collect my reward for fulfilling the contract.

For this task, I had brought a large bag enchanted with spatial expansion and weight-reduction charms. Without these, the sheer weight of the coins would be impossible to lift, even for a wizard. But with the right spells and artifacts, even enormous loads became manageable.

Widening the bag's opening, I cast a spell to funnel the gold coins into it. To ensure accuracy, I added a counting spell to keep track of how many coins entered the bag. It was a simple but effective solution.

The clinking and clattering of coins echoed through the cavern for nearly half an hour. Sometimes the noise grew louder, other times softer, but the spell confirmed that the amount matched exactly what was stipulated in the contract. Twenty million Galleons now filled my bag, ready to be transported.

The sound of the coins reminded me of an old friend from the Blue Pegasus guild in another world. He would've exclaimed, "Come to papa! Goo-goo, my little dragon treasure!"

Once I finished, I returned to the surface and, with a wave of my hand, sealed the vault door. My wand moved deftly, reactivating the protective and concealment spells, ensuring the site could be reused in the future if needed.

Now I faced the question of what to do with such a massive fortune. In the past, before I discovered how to transmute water into high-quality gold, this amount of money would have been life-changing. Now… I could conjure as much gold as I needed.

Still, everything found here wouldn't go to waste.

***

As the sun dipped below the horizon, a warm evening glow enveloped the Burrow, the Weasley family's beloved home. The crooked house, nestled among clusters of overgrown shrubs, stacked its seemingly unsupported floors into a tall, weird looking tower, resembling a magical game of Jenga. The muffled sounds of laughter and conversation coming from within hinted at the cozy family life thriving inside.

Arthur Weasley trudged heavily along the worn dirt path, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the day's events. The usual bright and cheerful expression on his face was replaced with a somber, defeated look. Reaching the front door, he paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before turning the handle and stepping inside.

In the kitchen, the familiar clatter of pots and pans greeted him. Molly Weasley, a plump woman with a kind face framed by fiery red hair, was busy preparing dinner, her magic sending the kitchenware dancing through the air. She turned to greet her husband but froze when she saw his downcast expression.

"Arthur! What's happened? You look absolutely dreadful!" Molly exclaimed, her voice thick with concern.

Arthur sighed deeply, running a hand through his thinning hair.

"I've been suspended, Molly. The Ministry isn't happy with my recent actions."

"Tell me everything," Molly demanded sharply, her tone laced with anger. The floating kitchenware and her wand froze midair. For a moment, Arthur feared she might point the wand directly at him. "Why were you suspended?"

The silence that followed was deafening. Arthur could feel the weight of the house's attention—he knew everyone inside was listening intently. Even the old ghoul in the attic seemed to be holding its breath.

"There was a search at Malfoy's today," Arthur began, his voice subdued. "And, as usual, I was involved."

"Arthur Weasley!" Molly flared up, her fiery temper matching the color of her hair. "How many times must I tell you that's not your job? Of course, Malfoy should be punished for all his past sins, but that's not for you to deal with!"

"I know, I know," Arthur sighed. "Next time, I'll be more careful."

"There will be no next time," Molly said firmly, picking up a large wooden spoon from the sink. "And why, exactly, were you suspended?" Her tone softened slightly, though her grip on the spoon remained firm.

"Well, Timothy Jody was at Malfoy's," Arthur admitted reluctantly.

"The young master?" Molly asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Yes, him," Arthur nodded. "No one recognized him, and the Aurors behaved rather rudely toward him. He took the entire group hostage and demanded that Bones and Scrimgeour be summoned."

"What was he doing at Malfoy's?" Molly asked, her eyes widening with curiosity.

"Oh, if only I knew, if only I knew," Arthur exhaled, shaking his head. "In the end, Bones and Scrimgeour suspended the entire group—Timothy demanded it."

Arthur's stomach churned as he said the words, knowing they weren't entirely true. In reality, he had been the only one placed on "leave." Not because the Aurors had offended Jody, but because of the coins found in his pockets. Coins that didn't belong to him.

Still, Arthur justified it to himself: That money wasn't truly Malfoy's. It should have been mine.

"I see," Molly sighed, setting the spoon down and folding her arms. "And how long have you been suspended?"

Her voice was calm, but Arthur knew her mind was already calculating how tightly they'd need to tighten their belts. The unspoken strain of supporting a large family loomed over them like a heavy cloud.

"Until August," Arthur sighed.

"Alright," Molly exhaled, her tone firm but practical. "Then you'll work on the repairs. Some parts of the house have been in need of attention for ages."

"Repairs it is," Arthur agreed with a nod.

Arthur wasn't too worried about their finances. He had funds stashed away from the raids on the Malfoy estate. It was remarkably convenient that Sirius Black had escaped from prison and that Narcissa Malfoy happened to be one of his cousins. That familial connection made obtaining search warrants absurdly easy.

At one point, he'd even considered buying a Niffler for future raids. With its keen sense for treasure, the magical creature could have helped him amass a small fortune in no time. But after today's events, it seemed unlikely he'd be granted another warrant anytime soon. In that case, a Niffler wouldn't be worth the investment.

"What's for dinner?" Arthur asked, eager to steer the conversation into safer territory. The less they discussed the day's events, the lower the risk of anyone uncovering the truth.

"Pumpkin meat pie and chili," Molly replied. "Ginny helped me with it, by the way."

"Did she now?" Arthur said, nodding in approval. "That's wonderful—good to see her learning these things. Shall I call the kids?"

"Not yet," Molly replied, her tone shifting to one of contemplation. "I wanted to ask you about Harry Potter. Dumbledore sent a letter saying he'd like Harry to spend part of the summer with us. What do you think?"

"Why not," Arthur said with a smile. "I think Ginny will be thrilled."

"Yes," Molly said, her voice softening, "and an extra pair of hands wouldn't hurt either."

Arthur nodded in agreement. There was plenty to do around the Burrow, from tending the garden to tackling various repairs. Clearing out the pits—or as Fred and George liked to call them, "gold mines"—was another task on the list. The pits were where they prepared fertilizer to enrich the soil before the colder months arrived. An extra set of hands would certainly lighten the load, and it would be good for Ron to have someone to share the work with. After all, everything felt easier with two people tackling it together.