They talked late into the night, polishing the plan, patching weak spots, and tossing around new ideas.
"Do you know the girl on the cover?" Cynthia asked cautiously.
"How could I possibly know her? All of that was decided by the company," Tver said helplessly.
Although the company had been founded at his suggestion, everything was handled strictly the Muggle way to avoid attracting attention from the wizarding world. He never appeared before any employees, and Jeff—following his orders—went only in disguise.
They hadn't even resorted to the Imperius Curse. Instead, they used a Confundus Charm to create the illusion of an investor who issued instructions to the professional manager.
(It wasn't actually that simple, but the details aren't important since they don't affect the main plot.)
By evening, Jeff had finished his tasks and Apparated back home. This was exactly why Tver chose him—if the worst happened, a house-elf's magic made escape effortless.
"Good evening, Master. Good evening, Mr. Marvolio and Miss Cynthia."
Jeff bowed gracefully.
The young master had explained the purpose behind these tasks. Though Jeff was moved by the trust placed in him, he couldn't deny his lingering concerns. But he couldn't tell the master or mistress anything about it—he could only hope the young master would gain more allies who would help him.
So even though the young master had emphasized multiple times that courtesy wasn't necessary, Jeff still kept a respectful demeanor toward Marvolio and Cynthia.
Cynthia hurried out a "Good evening," while Marvolio simply waved. He knew better than to act superior to Tver's family's elf—especially one who was effectively their future partner.
Tver looked at him with curiosity.
"Who would've thought you'd improved this much? If I told everyone you were Voldemort, they'd say I was insane."
"Hah! I'm a brave, battle-hardened Auror of the Ministry now. What kind of little cookie are you to accuse me of something like that?"
Marvolio smugly snatched the cookie from his hand and raised his eyebrows in challenge.
To be fair, his job at the Ministry really was satisfying. He commanded a group of obedient subordinates, and above him, aside from Rufus Scrimgeour, the Head of the Auror Office, only Fudge could give him instructions—not even orders, really, more like "requests."
With Moody retired and Scrimgeour promoted, there wasn't an Auror more capable than him. After receiving his medal, the upper ranks even began welcoming him into their circles.
He looked down on them, of course, but it was still far more comfortable than running around with a pack of underlings, murdering and burning everything in sight. At least he didn't have to worry about Dumbledore showing up to kill him—if that ever happened, Tver would be the one in front.
For the first time, Marvolio understood how reassuring it was to have a boss who had your back.
Tver didn't know what he was thinking, but seeing him so satisfied felt… odd.
Was Voldemort's re-education really working?
"Forget him. Jeff, how are things with the company?"
Jeff smiled warmly as he watched the three of them banter. Hearing Tver's question, he blinked before responding.
"The first batch of face masks is finished, but… are we truly giving them all away for free?"
He knew better than anyone how costly this batch was—just the Beautification Potion alone cost enough Galleons to send the Weasley family to Romania again.
"It's just a marketing strategy. The Galleons we spend will turn into more pounds, which we'll use to buy the raw materials the wizarding world needs, then convert back into Galleons."
"Does the wizarding world need that many raw materials?"
"We're not spending that many Galleons. We only need to maintain a balanced flow. Our goal isn't to earn Galleons."
Only then did Jeff relax. What he trusted most about the young master was his careful, steady planning.
"Then I'll prepare dinner for everyone."
After Jeff left, an owl appeared—again for Cynthia.
She immediately untied the envelope and skimmed through the letter.
"Harry Potter used magic on his aunt and violated the Statute of Secrecy for the second time. But Fudge wants the matter suppressed and is sending Aurors to protect Harry."
"Probably worried about Sirius," Marvolio said casually.
He was sick of the Black situation. According to Tver, they couldn't actually catch Black. Meanwhile, Fudge and the other high officials nagged him daily, leaving him stuck in the middle.
He chuckled with undisguised schadenfreude.
"Who knows which unlucky soul will get sent over? Maybe they'll actually run into Black. So, Tver, your plan—"
But the next second, his smile disappeared.
Another owl was coming—and it was coming for him…
"Ha! Look at this unlucky guy. Hurry up and open the envelope! Don't keep the owl waiting, hahahaha—"
Tver and Cynthia were laughing so hard they nearly collapsed.
By the time Jeff arrived with the food, Marvolio had already stormed out, muttering curses all the way.
"Where's Mr. Marvolio?"
"Don't mind him. Let's eat."
...
Marvolio soon arrived on Privet Drive, but he did not look pleased. He stood before the Dursleys' door with a stormy expression.
"Knock—thud—thud—thud—"
He slammed on the door three times—if it could even be called knocking.
Vernon Dursley yanked it open, fury written all over his face.
"If you're—oh." He froze when he saw Dawlish's imposing build. "S-sir, how can I help you?"
Marvolio first looked over his unkempt hair and the torn pant leg.
"Dawlish. Auror from the British Ministry of Magic. Here to deal with tonight's… incident."
Normally, the Improper Use of Magic Office handled such things, but considering Harry's importance and the Ministry's fragile reputation,
Fudge didn't dare risk even the slightest mistake, so he'd sent him instead.
Vernon didn't know what an Auror was, but the words "Ministry of Magic" were enough to tell him this was a government official. He immediately trusted him.
"That's wonderful!" he began to shout, but seeing Marvolio's dark expression, he swallowed it down.
"Hurry and fix my sister's… condition, then throw that boy into prison!"
"Sorry, but something this minor won't lead to any punishment for Harry. Now—where is the victim?" Marvolio said impatiently.
When he drew his wand, Vernon didn't dare argue further.
He might deny magic all day long, but facing it directly still terrified him.
"In there! I dragged her down, and she's still floating in the living room!"
Marvolio walked inside at last.
Even he couldn't help being startled at the sight of Harry's aunt.
She had swelled enough to nearly fill half the living room. She wasn't floating anymore—she was wedged in.
Dudley and Petunia were curled up in a corner, trembling.
Marvolio quickly cast the counter-spell, letting the air escape from her, and wiped her memories of the event as well.
Naturally, he didn't forget to do the same for the dog she'd brought along.
...
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