0158 The Invitation

Mr. Weasley felt utterly exhausted.

These post-80s young wizards were truly troublesome—each one was more scheming than the last! When he and his wife were their age, they certainly didn't have so many tricks up their sleeves. If this continued, they'd never grow up properly!

What comforted Mr. Weasley was that despite being outmaneuvered, Harry hadn't pressed further about the matter. Everyone understood why—as Mr. Weasley had said, he wasn't Hagrid. Once he made up his mind, he definitely wouldn't reveal any inside information.

However, Harry wasn't worried in the slightest. As long as Sherlock was around, deducing the truth was only a matter of time. When that moment came...

Thinking about how his parents might have been betrayed by someone they considered a close friend, Harry's face remained expressionless as he secretly clenched his fists. The tight grip caused his slightly sharp nails to dig deep into his palms, bringing waves of piercing pain.

Just then, Ron seized the opportunity to extend a warm invitation to his best friend.

"Harry, don't go back this time—just stay at my house!"

"Huh?"

Lost in his own thoughts, Harry heard Ron's words and his bitter expression instantly vanished, replaced by complete bewilderment.

"What 'huh'? Just stay at my place, and when school starts, we'll go together!"

"Well, I..."

For Harry, returning home for the summer holidays was something he'd already arranged with Sherlock. Though new circumstances had arisen, he'd at least managed to meet his grandparents, which was reasonably satisfactory. But he'd never considered staying at Ron's house.

British summer holidays were incredibly long, lasting from June through September. If he stayed at the Burrow now, it would mean spending over a month there. Besides, his relationship with the Dursleys had improved considerably. Even returning to Privet Drive wouldn't be as unbearable as before.

Seeing Harry's hesitation, Ron deployed his ultimate weapon.

"Don't forget—you promised to let me try your Nimbus 2000! What, are you going back on your word?"

"Of course not!"

When Ron brought this up, Harry's face showed genuine distress.

"But my luggage is still at Privet Drive!"

"Aha! So, you had an excuse ready when you made that promise!"

"No, that's not it—I wasn't thinking that—"

"If that's the only reason, you needn't worry."

Mr. Holmes, now in the passenger seat while Mr. Granger drove, turned around after hearing the young ones' conversation and gave Harry a gentle smile.

"Harry, you can stay here first. When you receive this year's school letters, you can all arrange to go to Diagon Alley together. We'll help bring your luggage over then."

"Uncle's right!" Ron's eyes lit up as he threw an arm around Harry's shoulders. "Besides, Sherlock and Hermione will pass your house on their way back anyway. They can take your luggage first and bring it over later."

"Harry, don't feel pressured," Mr. Granger added from the driver's seat without turning around. "As long as you want to stay, we'll tell your aunt and uncle when we return. They're reasonable people—they won't refuse."

"I'm not worried about that—they'd be thrilled if I never came back," Harry muttered.

"Ha ha ha, it's not that bad. We had quite a pleasant conversation when we had dinner together. The only thing I found inappropriate was their parenting approach— it's a bit too indulgent."

Mr. Holmes glanced at Harry again, understanding his feelings, and simply made the decision for him.

"It's settled then! Harry will stay with Mr. Weasley and Ron this time!"

Mr. Weasley blinked and smiled warmly at Harry. "It would be our honor."

Harry had never been good at refusing others, and with things having gone this far, he agreed.

When the group returned to the Burrow and heard that Harry would be staying for the remainder of the summer holidays, the entire Weasley family was delighted. The happiest were Mrs. Weasley and Ginny—the former gave Harry a big hug, while the latter, though hiding behind her mother, couldn't conceal her beaming expression.

"Tell me—you didn't make the car fly during your trip, did you?"

"Of course not!"

"Impossible!"

"Absolutely impossible!"

Hearing the three men's definitive answers, Mrs. Weasley finally relaxed. She failed to notice Percy and the twins behind her trying hard not to laugh. Just from the three grown men's excitement, they could easily guess what had happened during the journey—especially the Weasley twins.

If Mrs. Weasley hadn't desperately held them back, they would have insisted on going along this time. What a missed opportunity!

Happy times always pass quickly, and the moment of departure soon arrived. At this point, Sherlock privately approached Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to tell them about Lucius Malfoy and the house-elf Dobby.

"He's definitely scared," Mr. Weasley said, wearing a serious but satisfied expression after hearing that Lucius Malfoy planned to dispose of Dark artifacts due to the Ministry's recent investigations. "But I never expected him to do something like this. That despicable, cunning fellow—I'd better not catch any evidence against him..."

"Be careful, Arthur." Unlike her spirited husband, Mrs. Weasley looked worried. "That family isn't to be trifled with. Don't try to bite off more than you can chew."

"What? You think I can't handle Malfoy?" Mr. Weasley immediately flared up at his wife's words, his face turning as red as his hair. A man couldn't stand being told he wasn't capable—especially by his own wife. That was one of the most humiliating things in the world.

"That's not what I meant," Mrs. Weasley said, clearly knowing how to handle such situations. "Arthur, what I mean is—instead of focusing on that family, we should remind the children to be careful. After all, those are Dark artifacts left by You-Know-Who. If they really make it into the school, it would be terrifying!"

"Didn't Sherlock already say that Dumbledore has made arrangements? I think that Malfoy fellow won't succeed."

"But it's You-Know-Who!" Mrs. Weasley raised her voice slightly. "Arthur, you wouldn't want our children controlled by such power, would you?"

Hearing his wife mention He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Mr. Weasley immediately calmed down. After a moment, he slowly nodded.

"You're right, Molly. I'll tell the children. Never trust anything that can think for itself unless you can see where it keeps its brain."

Seeing Mr. Weasley's reaction, Mrs. Weasley finally relaxed. She looked at Sherlock and hugged him tightly.

"Thank you, you're such a good child. I'll have to prepare another gift for you."

"Wait, Molly, you mean—"

"Oh, Arthur, don't you understand? Your actions have offended the Malfoys, and they'll certainly try to cause us trouble. With so many of our children involved, Sherlock is specifically warning you!"

"Good heavens, I'm such an idiot for not thinking of that! Sherlock, thank you so much!"

Mr. Weasley also hugged Sherlock, then looked at his wife with deep affection. "And you, my dear Mollywobbles!"

When Mr. Weasley used this pet name, Mrs. Weasley's face instantly turned as red as her husband's hair.

"Goodness, what are you saying? There are children here!"

When they were alone, Molly quite liked her husband calling her this—it was a hint, since "wobbles" was the plural of "wobble," meaning to sway or shake. But there were others present now!

Thinking of this, she quickly glanced at Sherlock and was relieved to see his expressionless face.

Good, good—he was still young and probably didn't understand what it meant.

However, in the next moment, Sherlock slowly said.

"Love belongs to the emotional realm, but all emotions run counter to true, cold reasoning."

With that, he turned and left, waving his sleeves without taking a single backward glance.

Watching Sherlock's composed departure, the Weasley couple stood frozen.

"He... he seems to understand?"

"It's all your fault!"

"Alright, alright, it's my fault. Don't worry—that child has good judgment and won't tell anyone."

"I don't care. Tonight, you're being punished—"

"What? Didn't we agree on once every three days?"

After bidding farewell to the Weasley family and Harry, who would be staying there, Sherlock and Hermione set off for home with their fathers. This time, Mr. Holmes was driving.

"Hey, old chap, since we're out together, there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

"What is it?"

"Remember the advice I gave you last Christmas? About taking out loans in rubles?"

"Of course—that move certainly earned me a tidy profit... Wait, are you suggesting I take out loans again? Which country's currency this time?"

Mr. Granger immediately perked up at this topic.

"No, not loans. This time I'm suggesting you convert your stored pounds into dollars and gold."

"What?!"

Mr. Granger was clearly stunned by Mr. Holmes's words. However, he quickly grasped the implications of what his friend was suggesting. His gaze suddenly became distant as he murmured.

"In just a few short years, has our situation already deteriorated to this extent?"

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