Erald flas roared up in the grate, and a man and a woman stepped out of the fire and looked around.
"So this is the Norwegian Ministry of Magic? It really is completely different from Britain. It feels like sothing that has been passed down unchanged from ancient tis," Penelope murmured, taking in the vast, longship‑like hall that stretched out of sight in both directions.
Percy, who had morised most of his history notes, slipped automatically into explanation. "Well, the Norwegian Ministry is one of the oldest magical governnts in the wizarding world. It has never been destroyed or rebuilt since its founding. Even the Goblin Rebellions never reached Norway, so they were barely affected."
"I know that," Penelope said, giving him a helpless look. She tilted her head back to stare at the glowing spheres overhead, each one a star in the underground sky.
"I just an places like this, carried all the way from a distant age, have a real sense of weight to them."
She turned back to Percy, and there was a trace of guilt in her eyes.
"Sorry… dragging you away from ho on the third day of Christmas."
"There's nothing to apologise for. I wanted to co." Percy gave a small laugh and lifted one shoulder. "Besides, you ca to my ho. It's only fair I co with you now, isn't it?"
"But I am still taking you away when you ought to be with your family…"
Her expression dimd. Mrs Weasley had treated her so kindly at the Burrow. Now, for her own selfish goal, she was hauling Percy off to Norway.
If sothing happened to him because of her, how would Mrs Weasley ever look at her again?
Percy patted her shoulder lightly.
"Don't worry. Mum's very reasonable. And it's not as if we're doing anything that dangerous. Think of it as a little trip. Just relax."
"Co on. If we finish what we ca to do quickly, we might even get back in ti to tell my brothers and sister all about it."
Penelope did not look reassured. She fell silent for a long mont before finally nodding.
"All right. Let's go."
They had barely taken a step when a burst of noise from farther down the hall drew their eyes.
They turned. Not far away, several Aurors had surrounded a cluster of oddly dressed witches and wizards in black robes. The tension in the air made it look as though they were facing down a group of dangerous criminals.
"Dark wizards?" Penelope's face tightened as she watched the robed figures and the Aurors closing in on them. The mont she spotted a scarred, middle‑aged man among the law‑enforcers, her pupils shrank. Her wand was in her hand in an instant, and she shifted her weight, clearly ready to go to their aid.
Percy's arm shot out, barring her way.
"They don't look like Dark wizards. There's no trace of dark magic on them." He frowned, eyes fixed on the nine robed figures penned in by the Aurors.
For so reason, they gave him an odd sense of familiarity, especially four of them. Just from their backs, he felt a strange, almost fond recognition.
Which made no sense. This was Norway. Why would he know anyone here?
So sort of mood‑altering charm?
The thought made him tighten his grip on Penelope's arm, holding her more firmly as he spoke in a low, cautious voice.
"We're just visitors. Even if they are Dark wizards, until they actually attack soone, we've no authority to step in and help the local Ministry."
"Co on. This is their Ministry. They can handle an incident like this."
"But…" Penelope looked back at the black‑robed group, words catching in her throat.
He was right. This wasn't Britain, and as tourists, they had no real standing to interfere with another country's Aurors.
If curses were already flying, stepping in to help would be one thing. But this was still only a standoff. Barging into it now would be overstepping.
The wand in her hand, though, had not been for the Aurors' sake.
She had recognised soone.
Back when her mother was still alive, Penelope had seen that scar‑faced Auror a few tis. She rembered clearly that whenever her mother spoke with him, her expression was far more relaxed and bright than it ever was at ho.
So he was… an Auror of the Norwegian Ministry of Magic?
Could he have news about her mother?
The thought flickered across her mind and was just as quickly pushed aside.
If he truly had been connected to her mother, there was no reason he would be happily serving here as Captain of the Ministry's protection detail while her mother rotted in prison.
That was not a position just anyone could reach. It demanded exceptional strength, an impeccable background, and a healthy dose of luck.
Penelope shook her head and cast one last, lingering look at the scarred captain now speaking to the robed group.
"…Let's go," she said quietly.
"Next ti, don't wander around sowhere like the Floo Hall dressed like that, all right?"
Halstein Moi's expression was thunderous as he glared at the young witches and wizards bowing their heads and apologising in front of him.
"And you especially," he snapped, turning on the lanky young man hovering at the edge of the group as if he might bolt at any mont. "You're the one who brought them here, aren't you? The mont sothing happened, your first instinct was to leg it with the kids. If I didn't know for a fact you haven't got a shred of Dark magic on you, I'd have arrested you on the spot for questioning."
"You hadn't done anything wrong. What were you running for?"
Charlie gave him a weak, embarrassed smile and ducked his head.
"Sorry. Er… if that's all, we'll just be going?"
In his defence, he thought he had a decent excuse. Norwegian Auror uniforms did not look much like the ones back in Britain. No smart robes or suit‑like jackets here: just rugged leather that gave the wearers a distinctly intimidating air.
Being suddenly surrounded by several large n in rough leather and badges would make anyone steeped in Evans's philosophy reach for escape first and explanations later.
Unfortunately, his Apparition just wasn't up to the task of dragging this many people along with him.
Halstein looked the group over again, his lip curling. In the end, he just sighed and waved a hand.
"Fine, fine. Clear off. Find sowhere to get those robes off while you're at it. Norway is not Britain. You walk down the street dressed like that here, and I'll be getting a report every half an hour."
The mont they were given leave to go, the black‑robed youngsters scattered as fast as they could, bowing and apologising as they hurried out of the Floo Hall.
As they went, they could be heard muttering sothing indistinct about "lost them" and "this is all your fault".
Young people these days. Honestly.
Halstein clicked his tongue, then turned toward the exit of the hall, a faint frown creasing his brow.
While he had been lecturing that lot, he could have sworn he'd seen a familiar figure out of the corner of his eye.
He had been busy, though, and hadn't had the chance to look properly.
After a mont's thought, he rubbed his chin and spoke over his shoulder to the Auror at his side.
"Vemund, get in touch with the Floo Control Office and have them send over today's visitor list. Nas only."
"Yes, Captain!"
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