"Mr. Weasley, let's talk business first."
Loren had to cut off Arthur's questions—after all, that ability of his wasn't easy to explain.
"Right, right—almost forgot. Loren, what did you come to see me about?" Arthur straightened at once, completely different from a moment ago.
"It's about the follow-up cooperation on the Beauty Ring. I've already discussed it with George and Fred—we're planning to open a shop together and sell the Beauty Ring worldwide. As their guardian, I thought you should be fully informed."
"You're opening a shop? Those two boys never told me that." Arthur took the deed and muttered as he looked it over. "No. 93, Diagon Alley… if I remember right, that used to be a French wizard's shop. Business wasn't great, but it should've dragged on a few more years. Sold off this fast?"
From those words, Loren heard what mattered: Arthur had been thinking about the twins' future for a long time. On second thought, that was only natural—among Arthur's children, only George and Fred had inherited the family's knack for alchemy.
Loren let the thought go and launched into the grand outline of their business plan—things like "planned obsolescence" and "trade-in for new." Arthur sat there stunned. After so many years tinkering with alchemy, this was the first time he'd realized one could do it like this.
Seeing Arthur's awed expression, Loren knew the twins hadn't told their family the operating details—probably only that they wanted to partner with him to sell the Beauty Ring.
When Loren finished, Arthur pondered a moment, then said seriously, "Your plan has no problem. As a father I support it. But I have one question, and I hope you can answer it. If you can, then…"
Arthur's sudden gravity made Loren blink. This was obviously win-win—what was there to question? He kept his face neutral. "Ask whatever you like, Mr. Weasley. I'm sure I can give you a satisfactory answer."
Arthur fixed him with a steady stare and asked, "Why are you unaffected by the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Law?"
"What?"
Loren, mid-sip, almost sprayed tea. He sat there stunned.
Arthur repeated, "Why aren't you affected by the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Law?"
"What's wrong with that law? And why should it affect me?"
Seeing Loren didn't seem to be faking, Arthur's tone softened. "I helped draft it. It's meant to prevent wizards from enchanting Muggle items in ways that could harm Muggles."
"And what does that have to do with your question?" Loren was still puzzled. He truly didn't see why Arthur would ask this. He was a Muggle-born wizard—
"Since the Ministry of Magic began enforcing the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Law, wizards have started rejecting Muggle-made objects," Arthur said. He paused, then added, "Much like how, after the Statute of Secrecy took effect, wizards voluntarily isolated themselves from Muggles."
Loren's pupils tightened. He hadn't expected wizarding law to have that kind of side effect. "From childhood I liked tinkering with Muggle things," he said evenly.
Arthur stared into Loren's face, hunting for any tell. Loren showed none, meeting his gaze calmly—but inside, waves crashed. He'd known the waters of the Harry Potter world ran deep, but not this deep. He'd long wondered why most witches and wizards lived apart—even many Muggle-borns distanced themselves from the Muggle world and rejected technology. He'd thought it was some issue with magic itself. He hadn't expected this. Thinking back, long ago wizards and Muggles had lived side by side; at some point the separation hardened. He had always assumed it was a property of magic. Now it looked like the Ministry's laws were the real lever. There were secrets buried there.
They held each other's gaze for a while. In the end, Arthur spoke first. "As for your cooperation with George and Fred, the Weasley family fully supports it—go ahead as you agreed." In his heart, though, Arthur knew: wizarding laws guide every witch and wizard by imperceptible degrees; only the powerful or the iron-willed remain untouched.
Since Arthur had shifted the topic, Loren set aside his questions for now. He drew out a magical notebook and said, "There's one more matter. I've joined forces with the Longbottom family to promote this magical device."
He passed the notebook to Arthur and repeated what he'd told Mrs. Longbottom earlier. Arthur listened while trying it out.
Before long, Arthur set the notebook down and thought in silence. Then, as if deciding something, he said, "Wait here a moment," and strode out.
He was back quickly, clutching a box as if it were a treasure. He set it carefully before Loren and opened it. Inside lay a curious alchemical artifact: a round dial like a clock face, with a single pointer. Around the rim were several groups of words—Safe, Trustworthy, Dangerous, and so on. But the pointer didn't indicate any of the labels. It pointed straight at Loren.
Loren reflexively opened his magic-vision—and was blinded for a moment by the surge of radiance pouring off the artifact.
"What is this?" he asked, astonished. He couldn't help it—he'd never seen magical light so dense. Not even some greats' relics compared.
"This is a secret that's allowed the Weasley family to endure," Arthur said. "It's called the Blood Orb Guardian. Our ancestor poured his heart and soul into making it. One of its functions is to bind to family members."
At once, Loren thought of that strange grandfather clock in the Burrow. So this was its core. In the original story, that clock hardly stood out, but its danger-sense was formidable—when Tom came back, it signaled danger at once, even before the Sorting Hat stirred.
He still didn't understand why Arthur had brought it out now. He had no intention of harming the Weasleys. On the contrary, he was bringing them enormous profit.
Arthur read his confusion. "This treasure does more than foresee danger," he continued. "It also serves as the Weasley family's alliance test. Pass its trial, and…"
"Why do you trust me so much, Mr. Weasley? This is important enough that I'd expect you to keep it hidden—aren't you afraid I'll try to seize it?"
"You won't," Arthur said, crisp and sure.
"Oh? Why so certain?"
In the next heartbeat, Loren flicked his right hand; the dial leapt from the box into his palm. He let magic spill from his skin, probing the artifact's workings. Arthur didn't flinch—he only watched Loren with a small, contented smile.
It didn't take Loren long to understand the mechanism. The Weasley ancestor had been a genius to conceive such a thing. The principle was simple: detect the bearer's inner bent and intentions, and express the result as simply as possible.
Though their circumstances had constrained their horizons, the ancestors' alchemical inventions still shone with brilliance. Rowena Ravenclaw had been like that; so, too, this Weasley forebear.
Arthur's smiling gaze made Loren a touch uncomfortable, but he kept his tone solemn. "Answer one question, and I'll accept this alchemical device. Why do you trust me? Give me a reason. I don't believe in trust without cause."
Arthur's smile faded a shade. "I am a Gryffindor," he said. "It isn't you I trust—it's Godric Gryffindor. His heirs deserve every Gryffindor's trust."
"So that's it," Loren murmured. He finally understood why, back then, after he saved Frank Longbottom and Alice Longbottom, Mrs. Longbottom had said what she did. That was the reason.
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