“Well, happy collaborating,” Kyle said with a grin as Rita Skeeter stood to leave the Leaky Cauldron.
“I just ca in for a Butterbeer because I felt a bit tired of writing. There was no collaboration,” Rita corrected as she snapped her handbag shut. “And we just happened to sit at the sa table and chat about the Triwizard Tournant. I didn’t say anything else, and I won’t admit to anything, either.”
“Ah, that’s right,” Kyle said with an amused smile.
With that, Rita Skeeter headed toward the bar’s exit. As she reached the door, a subtle look of relief crossed her face. Now that she had secured the Animagus photo, she could finally breathe easier.
Her only lingering concern was whether Kyle would keep his word and not reveal her secret. But she doubted he’d go back on his promise—especially after she had paid for the information.
Fifty Galleons wouldn’t normally buy a na and proof of Umbridge’s credit-stealing, she thought smugly. Kyle surely understood the value of what she’d handed over.
As Rita considered it further, a new sense of excitent bubbled within her. She began to wonder what Kyle—and more importantly, Dumbledore—might be planning.
She didn’t believe for a second that Kyle was rely curious about Fudge’s secrets. His words and deanor made it clear that he was firmly aligned with Dumbledore’s camp. And if that was the case, they were bound to act.
A showdown between the headmaster of Hogwarts, the most powerful wizard, and the Minister of Magic?
Just imagining the potential conflict made her pulse quicken. Whatever happened next would surely be extraordinary, and it would be the kind of event Rita lived to cover.
But for now, all she could do was wait. With her Animagus secret compromised, sneaking around as a beetle for information was out of the question.
As Rita reached for the door, Kyle’s voice stopped her.
“Just a minute.”
Her hand froze on the handle. Slowly, she turned back. “If you want to know anything else, it’ll cost you extra,” she said briskly.
“No, I just want to ask one thing,” Kyle said, his tone serious. “If there’s undeniable evidence that the person has really returned, will you report it?”
Rita hesitated, clearly reluctant to revisit the topic. Finally, she replied in a deliberately flippant tone, “Well, if it’s true, soone’s going to be in big trouble... and I’d never miss the chance to report on a historic event that’ll end up in the History of Magic.”
Without waiting for a response, she turned back to the door, pushed it open, and left the Leaky Cauldron.
Kyle watched her go, then drained the last sip of his Butterbeer. Rising from his seat, he used the pub’s Floo Network to return to The Burrow.
...
“Fred, George, will you please be quiet!”
The mont Kyle stepped out of the fireplace, he heard Percy’s voice raised in frustration. “I can’t concentrate on my report with all this racket! This is serious work, and the Ministry takes it seriously!”
“Percy, what we’re doing is serious work too,” Fred retorted.
“Yeah, we’re testing the stability of our products. Custors paid for these!” George added.
“And as for you…” Fred began.
“Are you sure the Minister will even read what you’re writing?” George finished, smirking.
“I’d bet it’ll end up in the trash...”
“...Then dumped in a bin sowhere...”
“...Because no one really cares if the herb pots are standard-shaped, as long as the plants grow!”
The twins continued their relentless teasing, clearly emboldened by their mother’s absence that day. Percy, red-faced, shot them a glare that promised retribution, but Fred and George remained unfazed. They’d endured Percy’s tattling plenty of tis before.
As Kyle entered the living room, his attention was drawn to a large bird with vibrant, flowery feathers frantically flapping its wings near the window.
“Kyle, when did you get back?”
Fred appeared on the stairs, looking curious.
“Just now,” Kyle replied, his attention drawn to the frantic bird flapping around. “What’s with this... thing?”
“Maybe it’s Ron,” George said, coming down behind Fred. “I bet he nicked the cookies we left on the plate.”
Before Kyle could ask what they ant, there was a loud bang, and a puff of white smoke engulfed the bird. When the smoke cleared, Ron stood there, red-faced and glaring.
“What on earth did you put on that plate?” he growled through clenched teeth.
“Improved Canary Creams,” Fred said, grinning. “They turn whoever eats them into a canary.”
“And clearly, they worked,” George added with a chuckle.
“You did this on purpose!” Ron snapped, his glare intensifying.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Fred said smoothly, his grin unwavering. “We just forgot to take them back.”
“Did you try flying while you were at it?” George asked, feigning curiosity. “I reckon it’s possible now.”
“Wait—did that thing actually fly just now?” Ron’s anger faltered as his eyes widened in surprise. He had been too panicked to notice much of anything at the ti.
Even Kyle raised an eyebrow in curiosity. He rembered the original Canary Creams from years ago—they could change soone’s appearance, but the wings had been purely decorative.
Ron’s annoyance seed to vanish as realization struck him. “Do you still have any of those biscuits? I want to try again.”
“Of course,” Fred said, winking mischievously. “Twelve Sickles a piece...”
“Counting the one you just ate...” George added.
“Just give us two Galleons,” Fred finished smoothly.
Ron blinked in disbelief. “You’re charging ? And why is it two Galleons?”
“Oh, sorry, we made a mistake,” George said, feigning contrition. “It should be three Galleons!”
Ron imdiately refused, and the trio descended into a loud argunt, creating chaos in the living room.
Monts later, Percy stord downstairs, looking thoroughly irritated. “Will you all be quiet! I’m trying to work on my report. This is important, and the Ministry takes it seriously!”
The three imdiately fell silent, their mock bickering set aside as they stood united against Percy’s tirade.
Kyle, sitting on the couch next to Ginny, watched the scene unfold with amusent. This rare show of solidarity among Fred, George, and Ron was a spectacle in itself.
“Percy doesn’t trust Headmaster Dumbledore,” Ginny said quietly, as if reading Kyle’s thoughts. “He’s sided with the Ministry, thinks Dumbledore’s gone mad with everything he said before the holidays. He even had a big row with Mum about it.”
“I see...” Kyle nodded, understanding the unusual truce. It wasn’t just teasing—this was their way of showing solidarity against Percy’s stance.
“Want so sweets?” Kyle offered, pulling out a handful of candies. “Don’t worry, these aren’t from Fred and George’s collection of mischief.”
“Thanks,” Ginny said, smiling as she took a toffee and popped it into her mouth.
At that mont, the enchanted family clock on the wall sprang to life. One of its hands, labeled Arthur Weasley, moved from work to ho.
A mont later, there was a thud at the front door, and Mr. Weasley stepped inside, looking slightly harried.
Fred paused mid-tease, looking at his father and then glancing out the window. “Dad? Did the Ministry close early today?”
“Oh, no,” Mr. Weasley replied, shaking his head. “I just ca ho early.” He turned to Kyle. “Did you get the letter?”
“Letter? What letter?” Kyle asked, confused.
Before Mr. Weasley could answer, an owl swooped through the open window, clutching an envelope in its beak.
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