Early that morning, Kyle went downstairs for breakfast, as usual. Chris was the only one in the living room. Diana, in fact, had not returned since the last investiture ceremony. Kyle had already asked Chris about it, but he didn't seem to know much either, aside from ntioning that the Departnt of Mysteries' mission appeared exceptionally important this ti.
Just two days ago, the entire ninth floor of the Ministry of Magic, where the Departnt of Mysteries is located, had been completely sealed off. The elevators could no longer reach it, and even the enchanted paper airplanes carrying ssages were halted outside. Not even the Minister, Cornelius Fudge, could get in. The Minister had lost his temper over this.
Yet, no matter how furious Fudge got or how many tis he banged his head against the elevator doors, the ninth floor remained closed. Unlike other departnts within the Ministry, the Departnt of Mysteries enjoyed significant independence and wasn't under the Minister's direct jurisdiction. After all, it had existed long before the Ministry of Magic was established, and technically, the two entities rely cooperated with each other. Typically, the Unspeakables might show Fudge so deference, but in extraordinary circumstances, things were different. At tis like these, Fudge, the so-called minister, held less significance in their eyes than a crystal ball of prophecy.
I wonder if this mission of the Departnt of Mysteries has anything to do with Voldemort, Kyle mused, feeling a twinge of curiosity. But unfortunately, Diana never shared any details about the Departnt's work with him.
...
"Today marks the second week of your vacation, right?" Chris asked, handing Kyle a plate of bacon as they sat at the dining table. His tone held a hint of apprehension. "Are you sure that was really a letter from Mr. Nicolas Flal?"
"Dad, I've explained this many tis already," Kyle replied, setting down his bread with a sigh. "The letter was given to by Mr. McPhail, and Headmaster Dumbledore approved it. They wouldn't joke about sothing like that."
"I know... but it's Nicolas Flal!" Chris still sounded incredulous. As a legendary wizard spanning six centuries, Nicolas Flal was a figure of imnse renown. It could be said that wherever there were wizards, there were legends of him. eting him was nearly impossible for most, and the idea of Kyle being invited as his guest was astonishing.
Since hearing the news, Chris had been caught in a sense of disbelief. Kyle bit into his bread, exasperated yet resigned; Chris had been acting this way for days now, and Kyle had grown used to it.
It's just an invitation, he thought. Why is he so surprised? After all, I am the youngest person to receive the Order of rlin; it shouldn't be such a big deal.
...
"Bang... bang..." A knock sounded at the door.
"Is that the person here to pick you up?" Chris asked.
"I don't think so," Kyle replied calmly, shaking his head. Today was indeed the scheduled day, but it was still too early—barely eight o'clock. Besides, the knock on the door was unmistakably familiar, the kind he'd heard almost daily around this ti last year.
Kyle got up and walked over to the door. As he opened it, two identical faces appeared in front of him.
"Kyle! Thank goodness you're still ho," George said with visible relief. "We rembered you were leaving today."
It was, in fact, Fred and George.
Kyle looked entirely unsurprised. With a steady expression, he said, "Co in, let's talk."
Fred peered over Kyle's shoulder, then shook his head in mock seriousness. "No, you're probably busy today. We won't take up your ti. We're just here to borrow your owl."
"Borrow my owl?" Kyle raised an eyebrow, surprised. He had assud they'd be asking to use the attic again for their Skiving Snackbox experints, like last year. Besides, he thought the Weasley family's owl, despite its age, was still in good health under Chris's recent care and could manage a letter delivery.
"Yes," Fred explained, a grin tugging at his lips. "The Skiving Snackbox line is a hit—we've gotten so many orders, even during the holidays..."
"We need to send out our goods," George added, producing a parchnt densely packed with nas.
"That's... quite a few nas," Kyle remarked, still a bit surprised. "But they're not even in school right now. What do they need Fat Tongue Toffees for?"
"Ah, but have a look," Fred replied, grinning. "Most of the nas are first-year wizards, all snapping up the Fat Tongue Toffees."
"They can't use magic at ho over the holidays," George added, "but these treats let them show a bit of magic anyway."
"George and I thought it up just before break," Fred said, obviously pleased with himself. "We even dialed down the Swelling Solution so the tongue wouldn't grow too much."
"It's been a huge hit..." Fred's expression darkened slightly. "Only problem is, Percy the Brainiac's been hogging Errol lately and won't let us use him."
"Got it." Kyle nodded, walked to the door, and raised his arm. "Ratton!"
A massive owl swooped down from the nearby woods, its belly rounded, looking as if it had just returned from a buffet.
"Magnificent," Fred murmured in awe. Even after all this ti, Ratton's size was still impressive. The owl was easily twice the size of Errol, practically a giant among owls. Sohow, Kyle had managed to keep him in such impressive shape.
As he looked at Ratton, Fred seed to recall sothing and lowered his voice. "Does he follow other owls around when they're out delivering?"
"What are you plotting?" Kyle asked, eyeing him suspiciously. Are they planning to have him tail soone? That would be going too far—did they want to end up in Azkaban just to develop more "clients"?
"It's not just any owl," George said mysteriously. "It's Percy's. He keeps claiming he's sending letters to swap howork with other prefects..."
"But we don't buy it," Fred added. "The way he acts when he's delivering them—he looks like a Gno who's just pinched a potato..."
"We want to find out who he's really writing to."
Kyle shook his head firmly. "I'd advise against that idea. Ratton wouldn't agree to it—no owl would. They might even go on strike."
"Don't worry," Fred said with an innocent smile. "We know owls won't agree. We were just talking. We weren't actually going to do it."
Kyle saw the mischievous glints in Fred and George's eyes and realized they were putting on an act just to rile him up.
George shrugged, still smirking. "Anyway, we'd better get moving to deliver these goodies our custors have been eagerly waiting for."
"That's much more important than nosy old Percy and his big head."
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