"...What isn't that little?"
At the silent dining table, after swallowing the last bite of mashed potatoes, Sirius couldn't help but ask.
"Robbing a bank isn't as quick as making money from kids—"
William pointed at Ginny nearby, and a purple dwarf bulrush drifted out of the girl's hair. "This thing has almost sold out this summer—"
The twins quickly chimed in. Fred swiftly pulled out a small wooden broom from his pocket, about the size of a hand, looking exactly like a Firebolt. "Price, 3 Galleons!" he said, pressing a button on the broom handle. A small wizard model in a black robe flipped out from under the broom.
Then, the "Firebolt" zoomed up to the ceiling and circled the chandelier twice.
Meanwhile, George took out a blank piece of parchment, pointed with his wand, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!"
The next moment, he slapped the parchment on the table, and it quickly revealed a floor plan of 12 Privet Drive. In the illustration, several black footprints sat around a table.
"Limited edition portable 'Marauder's Map,' currently region-restricted... only 7 Galleons! Safe, legal, much faster than robbing Gringotts—but, we paid proper taxes, Mom!" George emphasized.
Thus, the anger on Molly Weasley's face deflated like a pricked balloon.
It was replaced by a sense of bewilderment and a barely noticeable tremor as her gaze swept over the pile of wealth on the floor—this heap of Galleons was probably... no, definitely worth more than her house.
"Merlin's black stockings..." She clutched her chest, her voice a little frail, "This... this is simply..."
"You've got two geniuses in the family, Molly!"
Sirius laughed heartily, giving Fred a hearty slap on the shoulder, "Galleons! Legitimate, dazzling Galleons! Why would these kids even bother with that N.E.W.T.? To hell with it! They should just follow William to make money, that capitalist rascal—"
"Sirius!"
Molly gave a glance at this "instigator," but her tone was evidently less severe than before, more resigned. She finally sighed deeply, as though accepting this reality more magical than any storybook, "Fine... do as you will... but the exams..." she added one last attempt.
"Don't worry, Mom! We promise to get our certificates! George has already thought of a way to... umph@!"
Fred was patting his chest vigorously, too excited by Mrs. Weasley's approval to shut up, but luckily George quickly covered his mouth.
The atmosphere at the dining table suddenly lightened.
This pre-school-term dinner ended with butter and Galleon-flavored ice cream.
...
On the morning of September 1st, 12 Privet Drive also began to bustle; even the expression "pandemonium" didn't quite capture the scene.
"Luggage! Have you all checked them? Textbooks, cauldron, magic wand— especially your new school robes, Tom!"
Hermione had taken over from Lupin as the "mother hen" of the house, diligently helping everyone check their lists, "And Harry, don't expect Sirius to deliver anything you forget, he can barely get himself off that couch—"
"Hey!"
Hearing this, Sirius couldn't help but shout back, only to have a banana thrown at his head.
Harry was busy trying to pull Ron's owl "Little Pig" out of his trunk; somehow, the little owl had burrowed into his clothes.
"Remember what I said, Harry."
Sirius, in a rare move, got off the couch. "If anything goes wrong—anything—come straight to me or William; he's at the school."
"Got it, Sirius."
Harry nodded, stuffing Little Pig into Hedwig's cage. The snowy owl flapped her wings in displeasure.
Then William and Lupin were the first to Apparate away—eventually, farewells were exchanged amid the crowd at Platform 9 3/4.
Mrs. Weasley gave each child a nearly suffocating hug; the whistle blared, and the deep red Hogwarts Express puffed out white steam as students swarmed into the carriages like bees returning to their hive.
After dragging his trunk for what seemed like ages, Harry finally found an empty compartment in the middle of the train.
"We have to go to the Prefects' carriage for a meeting, Ron, take care of the luggage—"
Hardly had they sat down when Hermione once again pulled Harry up. The two had received their Prefect badges along with their booklists, meaning they had to patrol the carriages and attend a meeting in the designated Prefects' carriage, though no one knew what they actually discussed in those meetings...
"I'm not a three-year-old!"
Ron grumbled in dissatisfaction and started setting up a game of Wizard Chess on the table, with Neville already rolling up his sleeves and ready across from him.
The train swayed into a lush green moorland, the landscape outside the window rushing by rapidly.
"...How long are we going to sit here?"
Tom swallowed the Chocolate Frog in his mouth, looking curiously at the gray sky outside the window.
"It'll take until evening, Tom."
Ginny lifted her head out of her book, instinctively glancing at Ron and Neville beside her—both of them were still playing chess, and the pieces were already panting hard, as if ready to protest.
Just then, the compartment door was yanked open—
Draco Malfoy, his signature platinum hair perfectly in place, stood there with folded arms, this time without his usual cronies. He leaned against the doorway, wearing his usual fake smile that irked Ron, as his eyes swept over the people in the compartment—
"Weasley? Longbottom?... Where's Potter?"
Malfoy squinted, but his question didn't even merit a glance from Ron, who wore a face that said "so this again," as he moved his knight in front of Neville's queen.
Only Ginny kindly looked up, "He went to the Prefects' carriage first thing, didn't you see him?"
As she spoke, the girl glanced at the badge on Malfoy's chest.
"..."
Unexpectedly, Malfoy didn't throw in any more insults as the others in the compartment might have expected, but turned his head and left directly.
He even thoughtfully closed the compartment door behind him.
"...Unusual."
Ron finally looked up, blinking in surprise. He'd already prepared a comeback, and that was it?
"...That guy looked like he was in some sort of trouble; he seemed very tense."
By the window, Tom, who appeared to have been eating and watching the scenery the entire time, suddenly chimed in.
"..."
The other three in the compartment exchanged looks—then shrugged simultaneously, not taking Tom's words to heart.
After all—even if it's true, what does Malfoy's trouble have to do with them?
Add fuel to the fire?