Evil

By the time Harry and the others returned to the Great Hall, Filch was standing at the entrance, gripping a mop and gritting his teeth as he glared inside.

The young witches and wizards were in complete chaos.

Krum and Fleur sat awkwardly at the far ends of the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables. Out of all the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, they were the only ones present.

As champions and contestants, they had no choice but to attend.

They looked uncomfortable.

But no one was paying attention to them.

Fireworks crackled, cakes were thrown, and champagne sprayed in wild celebration.

At the teachers' table, only Madame Maxime remained. She sat alone, drinking heavily, completely unconcerned with what the students were doing.

With no professors around, and under the leadership of George and Fred, the Gryffindors were running absolutely wild.

However, Filch's jealous gaze wasn't fixed on the students.

He was staring at a certain woman sitting at the Gryffindor table—Petunia Dursley, a Muggle with no magical ability, just like him!

Mrs. Norris—his dear, beloved Mrs. Norris.

His lifelong companion, fierce and stern toward everyone except "Harry Potter"—was now behaving like a common, clingy little kitten. She was rubbing against Petunia's foot, purring loudly, and even letting out a few soft, affectionate meows.

Petunia looked nervously at the growing number of small creatures gathered around her.

Hedwig was perched on her lap, hooting proudly: "Hoo! Hoo!"

Crookshanks, Bows, Mrs. Norris, and several other cats and owls had surrounded her. Even Fawkes had coiled up comfortably on her lap, nuzzling her gently. The other animals sat in neat rows, listening intently to Hedwig's speech.

Hedwig's hoots were clear and melodious.

But Petunia couldn't understand a word.

Once Hedwig finished, Petunia stiffly turned to Ron. "What did she just say?"

She had a bad feeling about this.

As it was, Hedwig already demanded that she cook an enormous pot of owl food every week—sometimes in such large quantities that the owl had to bring in reinforcements to help carry it.

It was a tedious task.

If not for the fact that Hedwig occasionally brought back gifts—not typical "pet" gifts like dead mice or snakes, but things like gold jewelry, gemstones, or even stacks of British pounds—Petunia would have put a stop to it.

She had once written to Harry, worried that Hedwig was involved in something illegal.

Harry had reassured her, explaining that Hedwig and her friends had raided a Niffler's hoard, taking whatever was left unclaimed. Filch, as Mrs. Norris's owner, had posted "Lost Property Notices" around Hogwarts and Hogsmeade.

If no one claimed the items within three months, Hedwig considered them hers and gifted them to Petunia in exchange for owl food.

As for the British pounds…

Those were "lucky finds" Hedwig had picked up while delivering letters.

If she found a large sum, she left it at Scotland Yard. If it was a small amount, she collected it and eventually handed it over to Petunia.

Every month, Petunia made an extra £3,000—nearly a third of her husband's salary.

As a housewife, earning the equivalent of a working woman's wage while staying at home was very satisfying. It meant she could buy extra cosmetics for herself and small gifts for Dudley.

But the work was exhausting.

Hedwig's deliveries were already more than enough—she definitely didn't need more!

Ron hesitated. "Hedwig was introducing you, I think."

Petunia was even more skeptical. "She said all that just for an introduction?"

Ron blinked innocently. "I don't speak Owl. Maybe Harry—"

"Ron's right," Neville chimed in hesitantly, leaning closer. "The first part was an introduction."

"But then she told them to remember you and your family's faces. If you ever run into trouble, they're to help you immediately."

"You can also memorize these owls' appearances—if you ever need to send a letter, you can use them."

Bows and the others hooted and nodded in agreement.

"Neville, you understand Owl language?!" Ron gawked at him in disbelief.

Neville scratched his head. "Professor Sprout says I have a talent for it. She taught me a little."

"That's amazing!" Ron lifted Crookshanks into the air. "Do you know Cat language too? Can you tell me what Crookshanks says?"

Crookshanks meowed.

Neville's face tensed awkwardly.

"Oh, you haven't learned it yet?" Ron set Crookshanks down, trying to mask his disappointment. "That's okay, that's okay."

Neville shook his head. "No, Professor Sprout taught me."

"It's just… just…"

Ron frowned. "What?"

"He's insulting you," Neville muttered cautiously.

Ron froze and stared at Crookshanks in disbelief.

The ginger cat let out another mournful meow.

Neville added, "He just insulted you again."

Ron grabbed Crookshanks' face. "I take care of you every single day, and this is how you treat me?!"

Crookshanks smacked Ron's hand away with a paw, hissing.

"He insulted you again," Neville reported calmly.

Ron and Crookshanks started bickering, with Neville acting as their interpreter.

Dudley tried to join in, but after seeing Crookshanks smash a glass cup to pieces with a flick of his tail, he quickly gave up.

Even wizard pets were dangerous?!

What kind of normal cat could shatter a glass with its tail?!

This school was way too dangerous!

Harry and Hermione returned to their seats at the long table.

Petunia immediately leaned in. "Harry, are you alright?"

Vernon also glanced over, though his expression twisted between concern and disgust, with only the faintest trace of worry in his eyes.

"I'm fine," Harry reassured them.

"That… key? What was that about?" Petunia pressed on.

Ron and Crookshanks stopped fighting and leaned in, curious.

The surrounding students perked up their ears.

Harry shook his head. "It was a small issue. It's already been handled."

Petunia glanced at the others, then nodded, deciding to ask again later.

Just then, George and Fred hurried over, carrying a box. "Harry, have you seen Mr. Bagman?"

"Bagman? No, I haven't." Harry shook his head.

"He wasn't with you?" George emphasized.

Harry shook his head again. "Why? You looking for him?"

"Damn, he must have run!" Fred set the box down heavily. "We should've cornered him."

"He paid you back for the Quidditch World Cup, didn't he?" Harry took a sip of pumpkin juice.

George shook his head. "That money was settled. But he still owes us for the fireworks."

Fred sighed. "We've been selling our fireworks, right? Before the third task, Bagman came to us, saying the Ministry wanted to place an order."

"That was huge—fantastic news!" George gestured animatedly.

Fred continued, "He ordered three hundred Galleons' worth of fireworks. But he didn't pay upfront, said he'd settle after the Ministry processed the expenses. But the third task was coming up, and he needed them immediately."

Vernon scoffed.

He'd seen this scam way too many times—cheap con artist tactics.

George groaned in frustration. "So we gave him the fireworks, and just now, we realized we hadn't seen him all night. We ran into some Ministry officials and asked about the order."

"Guess what they said?"

Fred ran a hand over his face. "They said the Ministry never placed an order."

"And they're looking for Bagman too."

"They found discrepancies in the Romanian transaction records—an extra two hundred Galleons unaccounted for."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

Ludo Bagman really had guts—scamming everyone.

"Harry, check the map," George nudged him.

Harry nodded, slid the Marauder's Map onto his lap beneath the table, and tapped it with his wand. The ink shimmered.

He scanned it quickly, then pointed. "Ludo hasn't left Hogwarts yet. He's on the road to Hogsmeade."

"He's still here?!" George's voice rose with excitement.

Harry nodded.

George and Fred grabbed the map and started rallying their friends.

Ravenclaws, Gryffindors, even some Hufflepuffs—they all had money to collect.

By the end of the feast, George and Fred returned, defeated.

"Did you find him?" Ron asked eagerly—this concerned his future pocket money.

George sighed. "We found him."

Ron frowned. "Then why—"

Fred groaned. "Or rather, we didn't."

Even Hermione looked confused.

"We saw him at the Three Broomsticks," George explained. "But the moment he spotted us, he Disapparated."

"We're too young to learn Apparition yet."

"And even if we could, we wouldn't know where he went."

"Three hundred Galleons…"

Vernon suddenly spoke, his tone serious. "I don't know much about your wizard money, but it sounds like this Bagman used your government's name to do business with you?"

George and Fred nodded.

"Do you have proof?" Vernon spread his hands. "I mean, a recording or a contract?"

George and Fred hesitated.

Harry answered for them. "Yes."

The twins blinked.

They had proof?

Since when?!

"Memory." Harry pressed his wand to George's temple. "If needed, I can extract it anytime."

Vernon shivered.

That sounded incredibly sinister.

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Powerstones?

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