Chapter 325: Chapter 325
It was Friday again.
Early that morning, Hogwarts Castle remained shrouded beneath a grey sky, and a fine mist of condensation clung to the windowpanes.
As Lynn struggled out of bed, he glanced through the window. The sky was as grey as an old rag washed too many times, and the clouds hung so low they seemed ready to collapse at any moment. The rain was not heavy, but it fell thickly, fine strands slanting through the air and pattering against the windowpanes.
"This damn weather again," Lynn muttered, pulling the quilt higher and burrowing back beneath it.
The rain had not stopped since Monday, perfectly matching every stereotype about British weather. But Hogwarts’ Quidditch players—especially those on the Hufflepuff team—seemed entirely oblivious to it and had not missed a single day of training.
"You have no idea how crazy Cedric has become," Edgar had complained to Lynn the day before. "In weather like this, he actually said, ’Light rain is better for training. It improves reaction speed.’"
"I almost thought I was talking to Oliver Wood."
After the morning classes ended, Lynn, Edgar, William, and Ollie headed to the Great Hall to eat.
"Tomorrow’s a Hogsmeade weekend," Edgar said, anticipation coloring his voice. "Lynn, do you want to look around with us?"
Before Lynn could answer, a voice cut in from the side.
"Lynn!"
He turned and saw the Weasley twins approaching with mischievous grins.
"What are you guys doing here?" Lynn asked.
With practiced ease, Fred squeezed Edgar out of the seat beside Lynn. Edgar was pushed to the side and almost slid off his chair. He glared at Fred, but Fred didn’t notice him at all. He clamped both hands around one of Lynn’s arms as though afraid Lynn might escape.
"Come to Hogsmeade with us tomorrow!" Fred said.
George followed suit, squeezing in from the other side and pushing William aside. Sandwiched between them, with one twin holding each arm, Lynn could not move. He looked at Fred, then at George, his expression full of helplessness.
"To be honest, I don’t really want to go," he said.
"Don’t be like that!" Fred protested, tightening his grip on Lynn’s arm.
"Why do you have to take me?" Lynn tried and failed to pull his arm free. "Wouldn’t it be better to take your brother?"
Fred and George exchanged a glance.
"What does little Ronny know about doing business?" Fred said.
Lynn paused for a moment. The twins had indeed mentioned to him before that they planned to open a joke shop after graduation and might need his help. At the time, Lynn had readily agreed: "Sure. Just let me know when you need help." Now that they had come to collect on that promise, he felt too embarrassed to refuse.
"Have you saved up enough Galleons?" he asked.
George shook his head and pinched his thumb and index finger close together, making a gesture that would have offended a Korean person. "We’re still a little short," George said. "But the Ministry offers low-interest startup loans. We’ve calculated everything. As long as we find a suitable shop, one loan should be enough."
"So we’re going to Hogsmeade tomorrow to look for a suitable storefront," Fred added excitedly. "And while we’re there, we’ll show you around. You haven’t properly explored Hogsmeade yet, have you?"
Lynn really wanted to say he had been there several times.
"All right," he said. "But I’ll warn you in advance—I’m not very good at business."
As soon as he said this, Fred and George both froze for a moment. Then they burst into laughter as though they had heard the funniest joke in the world.
"You—hahaha—not good at business?" Fred laughed so hard he could barely speak.
"That shop of yours in Diagon Alley—hahaha—is practically monopolizing the alchemy market—" George was laughing so hard he could barely breathe.
Lynn shrugged, looking quite innocent. He was indeed telling the truth. Ai Li managed the businesses, the puppets handled production, and the Malfoy family supplied the materials. Lynn merely checked the ledgers and counted the Galleons each month; he did not manage anything else. Yet, strangely enough, no one believed him when he told the truth.
Fred patted his shoulder with an understanding expression. "Keeping a low profile. We understand."
Lynn opened his mouth to ask what they understood, but ultimately closed it. Since he could not explain it clearly anyway, it was better not to try.
Just then, the sound of fluttering wings came from overhead. Lynn looked up and saw an owl wobbling toward him. It circled once above Lynn’s head, loosened its talons, and a letter dropped down. The letter was thin and light, flipping twice through the air before landing on the table directly in front of Lynn.
After dropping the letter, the owl did not wait for a reply. It flew away and disappeared into the curtain of rain beyond the Great Hall.
"Someone actually writes letters nowadays," Lynn muttered, picking up the letter and turning it over.
The envelope was made of ordinary kraft paper and looked entirely unremarkable. There was no wax seal, no family crest, and no sender’s name. Only the name "Lynn" was written in the recipient field.
Lynn tore open the seal and pulled out the letter inside. Inside was a single sheet of paper folded twice. He unfolded it and found only one line—
[Meet me at the Three Broomsticks on Saturday.]
There was no greeting, signature, or explanation.
Just as Lynn wondered who had sent it, he noticed Umbridge watching him from the staff table.
Lynn suddenly understood. During class that day, he had wondered why there had been no response from the Ministry and had even begun to think Fudge was surprisingly patient. He hadn’t expected the letter to arrive today.
Lynn folded the letter and stuffed it into his pocket.
"Who’s the letter from?" Edgar leaned over and asked curiously.
"No one," Lynn said. "Just spam."
Edgar gave him a suspicious look but didn’t press further.
...
The next day, Saturday.
For once, Lynn got up early—or, more precisely, Fred and George hauled him out of bed.
"Get up! Get up!" Fred’s voice thundered from the dormitory doorway, startling Edgar out of his dreams and sending him rolling off the bed.
"What—what is it?!" Edgar sat dazed on the floor, his hair sticking up like a bird’s nest as he stared at the two identical redheads in the doorway.
"We’re not talking to you," George said. "We’re here for Lynn."
Lynn poked his head out from under the covers and glanced out the window. The sky remained grey. The rain had stopped, but thick clouds still covered the sun.
"What time is it?" he asked.
"Almost seven," Fred said.
Lynn pulled the quilt over his head. "Too early. Let me sleep a little longer."
"No way!" Fred and George said in unison.
The next second, the twins rushed into the dormitory, grabbed one of his arms each, and dragged him from the bed.
"Hogsmeade will take all day! The earlier we go, the earlier we can come back!" Fred said.
"We have to look at shops! Several of them!" George said.
The twins carried Lynn between them, his feet not even touching the floor as they dragged him from the dormitory.
Saturdays in Hogsmeade were always lively. Lynn followed Fred and George from one end of the street to the other and then all the way back again. They looked at no fewer than ten shops—
Some stood on the main road, with spacious storefronts, bright display windows, and terrifyingly high rents. Others were tucked into narrow, quiet alleys and were much cheaper. Several bore "For Lease" signs, with layers of dust coating their windows as though they had stood empty for years.
Fred and George lingered in front of every shop, gesturing and debating what each location was best suited to sell, how it should be decorated, how much foot traffic the street received, and whether being too close to Honeydukes would hurt their business.
Lynn stood nearby and listened to them debate. Whenever they asked his opinion, he merely nodded and said, "Not bad," or, "Let’s keep looking."
After spending the entire morning browsing, they actually found several promising shops.
One stood in the middle of the main street. Its frontage was not large, but the location was excellent—right beside Honeydukes, guaranteeing plenty of foot traffic. The owner was a retired old wizard who asked for very little rent, saying, "It’s sitting empty anyway. I may as well earn something from it."
Another lay deep within an alley. Its storefront was so narrow that only two people could stand side by side, but the building extended far back and included a decent-sized courtyard.
George took an immediate liking to the courtyard. "We can test products there. Customers can try them before they buy."
Fred, on the other hand, liked the rent of another shop.
The twins stood outside the shop at the end of the street, inspecting it and calculating costs before finally exchanging a glance and nodding in unison.
"Let’s discuss it more when we get back," Fred said.
"Yeah, discuss it more when we get back," George said.
Then they simply turned and left, decisively and without hesitation.
After parting ways with the twins, Lynn walked alone toward the Three Broomsticks.
Lynn had thought he was already late, but Fudge was later still.
He chose a relatively quiet corner against the wall where he could keep the entrance in sight. An apron-clad witch approached to take his order, and he asked for an orange soda.
"Anything else?"
"No, that’s all."
The Witch nodded and left.
A short while later, a bubbling glass of orange soda was placed before him. Lynn took a sip. It was sweet, tart, and icy cold, sliding pleasantly down his throat. He leaned back in his chair, kept his eyes on the door, and waited.
Ten minutes passed. Twenty minutes passed. Half an hour passed.
His orange soda had long since run dry, so Lynn ordered another.
Forty minutes. Fifty minutes. An hour.
By then, Lynn had drunk enough to feel waterlogged, yet Fudge still had not arrived. He began to wonder if he had been stood up.
Surely the Minister for Magic would not be so unreliable. Or had Umbridge failed to deliver the message? That seemed impossible. Judging by how she had acted that day, she had looked ready to contact Fudge on the spot. There was no way she had kept it to herself.
Just as he was thinking, the door of the Three Broomsticks was pushed open once again.
---
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