The Fairy Tale Workshop had closed.
Its opening hours and purchase rules were like no other shop's.
Its business hours were like a little bird perched on an eave—here for a breath, then gone with a flick of its wings.
What surprised people was that everyone who stepped out of the shop wore the same delighted smile. The invitation system plus purchase limits meant no one could buy very much; but it also meant everyone could leave with the series they wanted.
When Sean walked out with Professor McGonagall, he habitually scanned the area—and immediately spotted a whole patch of flaming red hair.
The Weasleys, and not far off, Ron and the others.
Mrs Weasley's excitement still hadn't faded. The Ministry had a long-term demand for the shop's products, but after the first procurement, very few officials in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement received invitations.
So Mr Weasley became one of the rare few who did, and the Department was more than happy to pay him a bit of extra Galleons to "cooperate."
Mr Weasley, of course, didn't quite catch that nuance. He just thought the Ministry was being unusually generous, handing out so many Galleons.
"I've never seen anything like those products—turning into a fire dragon! If Charlie knew, Merlin knows how long he'd save up for it."
Mrs Weasley's hand clutched a pouch heavy with a hundred Galleons, and she spoke in a tone full of anticipation.
"If you could be assigned this kind of task every time, dear, that'd be wonderful. Now we can buy Ginny two dresses she actually likes."
"Before we meet up with the kids, we ought to go have a drink to celebrate, Molly."
Mr Weasley was just as pleased, and the two of them headed toward the Leaky Cauldron.
Sean glanced over quietly, then dropped his gaze back to the book in his hands.
On Soul Transfiguration. This was the set of notes Professor Tayra had just hurriedly compiled—things Sean had heard of, but never studied in depth.
For example:
[In the deep history of magic, the soul can be divided. But soul wandering and fractured familiars are considered the work of demons.
According to Scandinavian belief, one can split the soul into several pieces, but only by performing an act tied to the devil—murder.
This echoes the theory of the Roman Church—that those who split their spiritual familiars, soul-bodies, or physical selves are all servants of Satan.
They think they seek immortality, but in truth they become slaves of death.]
It read like another version of Secrets of the Darkest Art. Sean couldn't help wondering if Uagadou's research on soul transfiguration had basically produced a second Darkest Art.
If so, he'd definitely have to thoroughly criticize it.
By noon, Sean needed to head over to the joke shop to restock, while Professor McGonagall went off to Twilfitt and Tattings. That shop seemed to be her favorite in Diagon Alley.
On the way to the joke shop, On Soul Transfiguration floated quietly in front of him, and Sean absorbed every line.
It was strange: the content was dense and obscure, yet he always understood it quickly.
Diagon Alley was stuffed with sunlight. Wizards wandered the winding cobbled street, while Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts jingled cheerfully in their pockets, loudly begging to be spent.
"My dad works in a really boring department—the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office."
That was Ron up ahead, walking with Justin; they were headed Sean's way.
"What does that mean?"
Justin asked.
"It means you're not allowed to enchant stuff Muggles made, in case it ends up back in their shops or homes.
Like last year: some old witch died, her tea set got sold to an antique shop, a Muggle woman bought it and had friends over for tea… absolute nightmare—Dad had to work double shifts for weeks."
"What happened?"
"The teapot went berserk and sprayed boiling tea everywhere. One bloke ended up in the hospital, and the sugar tongs latched onto his nose. Dad was run ragged—there's just him and this old wizard Perkins in that office. They had to use Memory Charms and all sorts of things to cover it all up…"
Justin, who'd rarely seen how the Ministry worked up close, was fascinated.
"That sounds incredible. Ron, your father works in a brilliant department. I'm sure loads of people have been helped by his work. It's something to be proud of."
Ron blinked, taken aback.
"Uh… maybe. I've never really thought of it like that…"
He muttered, until he spotted Sean.
"Sean—finally found you."
Ron called.
"Is this about Harry?"
the brooch said.
"How did you know?"
Ron blurted, startled.
"That wasn't hard to guess."
the brooch replied.
"And why can't you talk lately?"
Justin quietly cut in.
"I'm doing the Animagus ritual."
"Oh!"
"That makes sense!"
Ron and Justin spoke at once, suddenly enlightened.
Then both of them looked very much like they'd just uncovered something huge.
…
They were waiting in the Leaky Cauldron to meet Hermione and the others—they'd gone searching in the other direction. While they waited, they overheard Mr and Mrs Weasley talking loudly about someone:
"Of course, yes, dear Molly, getting that invitation had a lot to do with young Green, and with you, of course…"
"The invitation, that shop?"
Justin murmured thoughtfully.
"Oh, um, y-yeah—"
Ron was more nervous than Sean. He'd promised not to tell anyone. What if Justin started asking questions?
"That shop called Fairy Tale Workshop—the one Prophet's 'Ten-Year Impact' was raving about. It belongs to that alchemist, and he's on a Chocolate Frog card…
Given all that, I can only think of one wizard it might be. Is it you, Sean?"
Justin asked suddenly.
"N-no—"
Ron blurted, on reflex.
"Mm."
Sean said.
"Mm?!"
Ron stared, dumbfounded.
He'd been wracking his brains to keep the secret—and the person he wanted to protect had surrendered in one word.
"I suspected as much…"
Justin grinned, bright and easy.
"Oh, Sean… well, since you're okay with it…"
Ron muttered under his breath, still flustered.
"My mother says,"
Justin began, and Ron quieted down again, curious.
"No matter how messy the world is, there will always be people walking around carrying flowers.
And no matter how many liars let everyone down, there will always be some who live honestly, holding on to what's real."
Justin said.
He knew that the door he'd been knocking on for a long time…
had been standing half-open all along.
~~~
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