Amelia stood staring at her desk, her mind racing.
A spell-storer. Compact. Instant. Reliable. Something that no one in the magical world had even dreamed of outside theory and idle pub talk. And here it was, sitting in front of her as if it were nothing more than a trinket. The implications churned in her head—defensive strategy, field safety, political leverage. This was more than a tool; it was a shift in power.
Her eyes lifted to Harry."What's your offer?" she asked, voice careful, betraying nothing.
Harry didn't blink. "Two thousand galleons per unit to make. Took us countless nights of experimenting, trial and error… but we had a goal—one that hasn't changed. Every witch and wizard working in the field should be safe."
The twins exchanged a glance. They could only stare as Harry lied through his teeth with the composure of a seasoned negotiator.
"There are 3,146 aurors and other magical folk who, one way or another, find themselves exposed to danger," Harry continued. "People whose lives can hang on a single spell. My offer is six million five hundred thousand galleons to equip the entire fleet."
Amelia arched an eyebrow. "That's… steep."
Harry's tone didn't waver. "Is it? That's two thousand and sixty-seven galleons per person to give them a backup that could save their lives. Tell me, is that a bad deal? What's the value of an auror's life, Madam Bones?"
The words landed like weighted stones. Every counter she tried to mount, Harry dismantled before it even left her lips. He framed it not as a purchase, but as an investment in survival, the kind no one with her position could afford to reject. And he wasn't even handing over the design rights.
Harry leaned forward slightly, his voice calm but loaded with conviction.
"I'm not even including proper labour charges here," he said, locking eyes with Amelia. "We're talking about countless hours of intricate crafting — and I'm charging a mere sixty-seven galleons for that labour. Because this isn't about profit. This is about making sure no one out there — auror, curse-breaker, or even a simple field investigator — has to die just because they couldn't reach for their wand in time."
The twins exchanged a glance. Fred mouthed Bloody hell under his breath.
Harry's tone softened, but the weight behind his words only grew heavier."Imagine, Minister… a life saved by something as simple as a tap on a ring. And all for the price of two-hundred-and-sixty-seven galleons per person. Is safeguarding a life really such a bad deal?"
Amelia exhaled slowly, her quill tapping against the desk. She was good at negotiation, but Harry's approach was like being caught in a net — every counter she considered was already dismantled before she could voice it. He wasn't just selling a product; he was selling inevitability.
Amelia could already hear the headlines. If she refused and an auror died without this… she'd be crucified in the public eye.
Finally, she pushed the parchment toward herself and began writing. The scratch of the quill was loud in the silent office. A moment later, she signed her name with a flourish and slid the check across the desk.
"Six and a half million galleons," she said, her voice almost resigned but tinged with a grudging respect.
Harry's lips curled into a satisfied smile. He took the check and — without even glancing at the amount — handed it to Fred and George. "Yours," he said simply.
Then he turned his attention back to Amelia. "You won't regret this, Minister. This isn't just a smart purchase; it's an anchor for your legacy. By the time the rings are in the field, every witch and wizard in the Ministry will be singing your praises. And the public…" He let the pause draw out. "…the public will see you as the Minister who thought of everyone. The one who made their safety her priority from day one."
Amelia raised an eyebrow. "Day one?"
Harry nodded. "This is your first major decision in office. Let's make it count. I'd suggest arranging a press meet immediately — let the entire magical society hear it from you. That will seal it. Your name will be tied to this for decades."
For the first time in the entire conversation, Amelia smiled. "You're quite the salesman, Potter."
Harry smiled. "No. I'm just thinking about the betterment of society Madam Bones. After all aurors are the backbone of our security."
Harry and the twins stepped out of Amelia's office, the heavy mahogany doors closing behind them. Harry didn't give them a chance to speak — he grabbed both by the arms and without a sound, they vanished from the Ministry and reappeared inside the familiar stone-walled classroom at Hogwarts.
Fred blinked, taking in the sudden change of scenery. George just collapsed to his knees with an exaggerated flourish, dragging Fred down with him.
Both bowed low.
"Your majesty, thank you for taking us under your wings."
Harry stared at them, utterly baffled. "What the hell are you two talking about?"
Fred looked up, grinning like a man possessed. "We're talking about the instant five million you made us."
George's grin matched his twin's. "Even if we take out four hundred galleons for materials per ring, that still leaves us with five million, two hundred forty-one thousand, six hundred galleons in pure profit!"
Fred held his head in mock despair. "And the best part? We didn't even give the Ministry the design plans! This… this is pure madness!"
George's voice dropped into something reverent. "You're not godly, Harry…"
Fred finished for him, eyes gleaming. "…you're a monster. A business monster."
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "You two really need to get out more."
Fred straightened up, eyes still shining. "Get out? No, mate. We're staying right here — right under your terrifyingly profitable shadow."
George leaned back against a desk, still riding the high of their newfound fortune. "You know, Fred, I think we've been aiming too low all these years."
Fred nodded sagely. "Far, far too low. Joke shop? Pfft. That's cute. But now? Now I see the truth."
Harry arched an eyebrow. "And what truth would that be?"
Fred spread his arms wide as if unveiling some grand revelation. "Potter Enterprises."
George gestured dramatically. "A conglomerate spanning magical Britain — potions, enchantments, artifacts, maybe even a few dodgy imports from the Far East. All under one terrifyingly profitable banner."
Fred's grin turned sly. "We'll need a headquarters, of course. Something grand. Marble floors, enchanted ceilings… maybe a couple of dragons for intimidation purposes."
Harry smirked. "Right, because nothing says 'trustworthy business' like fire-breathing reptiles in the lobby."
George ignored him completely. "And we'll need a motto. Something catchy. Something that screams power and profit."
Fred snapped his fingers. "Potter Enterprises — We Don't Compete, We Dominate."
Harry shook his head, but a chuckle escaped. "You two realise this was a one-time deal, right?"
Both twins froze, staring at him in mock horror.
Fred gasped. "One-time deal? Harry, you can't just feed us a taste of godhood and then cut us off!"
George clutched his chest. "Cruel. Unthinkable. The betrayal cuts deeper than a cursed blade."
Harry smirked. "Then maybe you'd better start figuring out how to make that five million work for you before you blow it all on marble floors and dragons."
Fred and George exchanged a glance — the kind of glance that usually preceded something ridiculous, possibly illegal, and always profitable.
Fred grinned slowly. "Challenge accepted… boss."
Harry stood up, grin still playing on his lips. "Before you start planning your conquest of the wizarding economy, I want you to round up the others. We're heading home."
Fred blinked. "Home... now?"
"Yes, now," Harry said, his tone dropping into that quiet authority that instantly killed all smart remarks. "Be discreet. No loud announcements, no dramatic exits, and for Merlin's sake, don't look like you're sneaking off for a heist. Percy too — I want him with us. You've got thirty minutes to assemble everyone right here."
George tilted his head. "And you?"
"I'm going to the dungeons to get Daphne and Pansy," Harry replied, standing and stretching. With a casual flick of his hand, the silencing barrier and the layered illusion charm the twins had cast dissolved like mist in sunlight. "Don't make me come find you if you're late."
He left without waiting for a response.
Fred and George stood frozen for a heartbeat, then turned to each other. The memory of the past hour replayed in perfect clarity — Harry dismantling Amelia Bones's resistance, shifting her from cautious to eager, then sealing a deal that most businessmen would sell their souls for.
Fred let out a low whistle. "You know… I thought we were good at talking people into things."
George's grin was sharp. "We are. But him? He doesn't just talk people into things. He makes them see the world his way and think it was their idea all along."
Fred's smirk softened into something more genuine. "Our brother's a beast."
"Beyond anything anyone could fathom," George agreed.
And just like that, the shared thought clicked between them — he was their brother now, no blood required. Because Harry treated them as his own. Trusted them, believed in them, invested in them.
"Right," Fred said, shaking himself. "Common room. Now."
They bolted from the classroom, weaving through the corridors with the kind of purposeful speed that could pass for casual if you didn't look too closely. Every so often, students glanced at them, but the twins kept their expressions perfectly neutral — no smirks, no whispered plotting.
Inside their heads, though, the gears were spinning. Harry's way of doing things wasn't just business. It was strategy. Every move connected to the next, and the twins had a feeling this "trip home" was more than just a celebration.
They reached the portrait hole, muttered the password, and disappeared into the common room to start rounding up the crew.
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Half an hour later, every single one of them had made it back to the classroom. Percy, ever punctual yet somehow still last, slipped through the door with a faint frown like he'd been trying to calculate how he was late at all.
Harry wasted no time. With a flick of his wrist, a silencing ward shimmered into place, followed by a layered illusion that made the classroom look deserted and dusty. No point giving Lilith—or anyone else—an excuse to start poking around.
"Link hands. Circle," Harry ordered.
They shuffled into place, exchanging curious glances.
"Where are we going?" Ginny asked.
"You'll know soon," Harry said with that irritatingly calm smile that meant he was several steps ahead of everyone else.
And then—no crack, no swirl of magic—just silence. One blink, and Hogwarts was gone. Another blink, and they were standing in the grand foyer of Dursley Mansion, the air rich with the scent of polished wood and something faintly floral.
In the living room, Vernon and Petunia were seated comfortably, cups of tea in hand. Vernon's gaze flicked up as the group appeared, but if he was startled, he didn't show it.
"Dad!" Harry called, striding forward. "I need you to take Fred and George to get their new invention patented. Now. It's time-sensitive."
That was all Vernon needed. Being one of the sharpest businessmen in magical Britain, he knew the value of a head start. He stood immediately, straightened his robes, and motioned for the twins to follow.
Fred and George exchanged quick looks with Harry—half excitement, half disbelief—and followed Vernon out without a single joke for once.
The rest of the group turned back to Harry, waiting for the big reveal.
"Ron, Percy—Magic Pavilion. Get Mr and Mrs. Weasley here," Harry instructed crisply. "Abigail—Sirius."
The orders were met with brisk nods. Ron and Percy disapparated with twin pops. Abigail strode to the Floo, tossed in powder, and vanished into green flames bound for Grimmauld Place.
Harry turned to Petunia, leaned down, and kissed her on the cheek. "Celebration's in order," he said, already making for the kitchen.
Petunia's eyebrows rose. "And why's that?"
"You'll know soon—when the twins come back," Harry called over his shoulder, the words echoing down the hallway as he disappeared into the clink and bustle of the kitchen.
Yes, in another hour, everyone had gathered. Harry was still in the kitchen, his voice echoing through the hall as he barked rapid orders to the elves — "No, not that cake, the triple-chocolate one! And where's the butterbeer?!"
Just then, the sound of the front doors opening drew everyone's attention. Fred and George strolled in with Vernon, wide grins plastered across their faces. Even Harry emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel, a mischievous spark dancing in his eyes.
All eyes were fixed on the twins. Harry gave them a slight nod — the stage was theirs.
Fred cleared his throat dramatically.George puffed his chest out.
"We've done it," Fred began."Not just done it — smashed it!" George added.
They launched into the explanation of their invention, the demonstrations they had given, and how quickly Vernon had managed to seal the patent. Gasps, cheers, and muttered "Merlins" echoed around the room as they described the potential impact on the magical market.
Then Fred reached into his pocket with deliberate slowness and pulled out a single parchment. He unfolded it, turned it toward the group, and let the number speak for itself.
6,500,000 Galleons.
For a heartbeat, there was only stunned silence.
Mrs. Weasley blinked twice, swayed a little, and promptly fainted into Mr. Weasley's arms. Ginny's jaw dropped. Percy's glasses slid halfway down his nose. Ron mouthed the number as if trying to see if it was real.
The Weasleys were already thriving with the Magic Pavilion — nearly 980,000 galleons earned so far — but this… this was wealth on a scale none of them had ever touched.
Vernon chuckled from the side. "And that, my boy, is why you never waste time with paperwork."
The room fell utterly silent after Fred and George finished laying out the details — how Harry had practically dragged them to the Ministry, how he'd walked straight past layers of bureaucracy like he owned the place, how he'd personally tweaked their invention so it went from "pretty good" to "absolutely flawless" in under ten minutes, and then, with a grin that could sell snow to a Yeti, closed the deal in less than an hour.
By the time they were done, everyone was staring at Harry as though he'd just turned lead into gold in front of them.
"Our little monster…" Sirius muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "Merlin help us all."
Harry's lips curled into a smug smirk, but before he could say anything, Sirius leaned forward, eyes glinting.
"All right, pup — what's the profit margin?"
The smirk only grew wider. "First, you swear you won't breathe a word of it to Amelia."
Sirius raised both hands like a man before a duel. "Scout's honour."
"You were never a Scout," Vernon muttered.
"Technicalities," Sirius waved him off.
When Sirius finally swore on his magic, Fred and George exchanged a dramatic look before Fred said, "Five point two million galleons… in profit."
The number hung in the air like a spell gone wrong.
"Five point two… million… galleons," Fred repeated slowly, as though the weight of it deserved proper dramatic timing.
THUNK!Mr. Weasley collapsed in a heap beside his still-unconscious wife.
"Dad!" Ginny squeaked, rushing over, only to freeze halfway, staring at Harry like she was seeing him for the first time. "I—I don't even—five million? Harry, that's— that's more than the entire Weasley vault and house combined together!"
"That's more than the Malfoy liquid vault," Daphne muttered, eyes narrowing. "You just became richer than half the Wizengamot overnight."
"Technically," Harry said, tone maddeningly casual," I was already richer than most of the Wizengamot."
Hermione was gripping the edge of the table so hard her knuckles were white. "Harry... do... Harry..."
Ron just gaped. "Mate… you… you're… WHAT?!" He tried to finish the sentence, failed spectacularly, and just buried his face in his hands. "Bloody hell."
Pansy just like before was speechless but her eyes were wide as saucers. Her expression was a mixture of confusion and grudging respect.
Abigail smiled proudly as always taking pride in her brother's abilities. "My brother is the best."
Luna tilted her head dreamily. "I wonder if the galleons will start breeding in the vault. You might need to install anti-Nargle wards."
Vernon, who had been sipping a glass of elf-aged mead, nearly spat it across the room. "Five point two million? Son, that's—ha! That's my boy!" He slammed the glass down so hard the table shook. "Petunia, we're hosting a feast. A grand one!"
Petunia, still processing, blinked slowly before muttering, "It seems so, dear. I don't know... "
Sirius was doubled over, wheezing with laughter. "Pup... oh Merlin, pup... remind me never to play poker with you. You've got the Ministry begging to pay you five million galleons—" He broke off, laughing harder.
"Begging?" George grinned. "Madam Bones had no choice but to pay. Not with Harry negotiating the way he did."
Percy had gone pale, looking like someone just handed him a signed resignation from his own dignity. "The Ministry... agreed to that? Without a single form rejection, comittee hearing, or—" He stopped, eyes widening. "You skipped the entire process, didn't you?"
Harry just smiled with a nod.
"I talked directly with Amelia. It helps that the Minister of Magic is the girlfriend of my godfather."
This caused another mayhem since except for Petunia, Vernon and Abigail, no one knew that Sirius was dating Amelia. Another twenty minutes or so went by as Sirius satisfied their curiosities and then the house elves came out with the food.
The long dining table in the Dursley mansion groaned under the weight of dishes—roasts, pies, roast vegetables, and an assortment of other dishes all made by Harry. The room buzzed with chatter, laughter, and occasional clink of goblets as everyone savored the feast.
Sirius who had left saying that he will be right back, apparated back with a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. In his hands, he carried several exquisitely wrapped boxes of desserts from Elysium. "Thought you might want to save some room," he joked, setting the sweets on the sideboard.
Ron's eyes lit up at the sight. "Blimey, Sirius, you outdid yourself!"
Hermione gave an appreciative nod while Abigail eyed the desserts with curiosity. Vernon, Petunia, and the rest smiled warmly, their faces flushed with the joy of the evening.
The twins exchanged a quick glance, their smiles growing wider. Fred raised his goblet to capture attention, and as the room quieted, George chimed in. "While this food—and the company—has been absolutely brilliant, we've got something a bit bigger in mind for a proper celebration."
Curious eyes turned to them.
Fred continued, "Georgie and I have decided that considering the biggest deal we have gotten yet, we should celebrate properly. So..."
George completed his sentence, "We're sponsoring a trip. A big one. To Egypt."
The room fell into a stunned silence. Even Harry blinked in surprise, clearly caught off guard.
Pansy and Daphne exchanged uneasy glances, Luna gave a soft smile but subtly looked like she wanted to shrink into the background.
Pansy cleared her throat gently. "That's great but you could have waited till we left to announce that."
Daphne nodded in agreement. "Yes. This is your moment and we wouldn't want to intrude."
Luna nodded, her voice quiet but clear. "Yes, this is your moment."
Fred shook his head with a grin. "No, you're part of this. This is our celebration together. So, Egypt it is."
Percy's eyes sparkled, Mr and Mrs. Weasley looked momentarily flustered but pleased, and even Vernon cracked a smile.
Harry caught Fred's eye and gave a subtle nod, silently acknowledging the twins' generosity—and the surprise.
The chatter resumed, this time buzzing with excitement and questions about the upcoming trip.
The twins promised to fill in Tonks later, explaining the surprise once they met at the castle again.
For now, the feast continued under warm light and happier spirits—marked not just by food and laughter, but by the promise of adventure and new beginnings.
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Harry was making his way back to the common room after the Auror class, the corridor unusually quiet for this time of day. The Auror trainees had left an hour ago, he had been in the classroom reviewing their assignments and work and after completing that he was headed back to his dormitory to catch up with some sleep.
As he turned a corner near the less frequented eastern wing of the castle, a cold voice stopped him.
"Potter."
Harry froze. Lilith stood there, her eyes sharp, unreadable—an icy challenge that made the air around them seem colder.
"Lilith," Harry said evenly, sensing that this was not her usual approach.
She took a step closer, lowering her voice. "I know you're hiding something. You made a deal with the Ministry recently... you're keeping secrets."
"Not hiding it anymore are you," Harry replied coldly. "You think I'll just tell you?"
Her eyes narrowed. "No. I intend to find out."
Without another word, Lilith raised her wand—not for a curse, but to focus her magic inward. The world around them seemed to blur as her eyes glazed over, darkening.
Legilimency.
Harry's mind suddenly felt invaded, as if unseen hands were trying to access his thoughts. But his occlumency shields repelled the spell completely.
Lilith's brow furrowed, her assault faltering. Her magic couldn't penetrate his occlumency shields. Frustration flickered in her eyes.
Elythral immediately appeared in his hand and he countered with Legilimency of his own—and broke through her defenses just enough to glimpse fragmented memories. Mundane images—a garden, a locked chest, fleeting faces. Nothing critical, but enough to shake her confidence.
"You're strong," Lilith hissed, stumbling back.
Harry's gaze was icy. "I don't take kindly to being invaded."
Lilith's breath hitched as the vivid green curse sliced through the corridor, missing her by mere inches. Her heart pounded—not from exertion, but from pure, unfiltered shock.
He actually cast Avada Kedavra. Here. Inside Hogwarts.No hesitation. No mercy.
A cold dread seeped into her veins. Harry Potter—once the boy she'd underestimated—was no longer playing by any rules. He wasn't holding back, and the consequences of crossing him just became fatal.
If this is how he fights when cornered... what hope do I have?
She countered instantly with a spell of her own—a jet of deep black light streaking towards him.
Harry side stepped quite easily, the spell scorching the stone wall behind him. His breath was steady, face unreadable, but his eyes burned with lethal intent.
Without hesitation, Harry raised his wand again, sending a series of curses her way—spells most wizards wouldn't dare cast lightly, especially inside the castle walls.
Lilith deflected and dodged with equally fierce determination, her face twisted in a mix of fear and fury.
"You don't scare me, Potter," she spat between parries, but her voice wavered.
Harry advanced, each step measured, unrelenting.
"I don't like playing games, Lyralei. Next time you come at me, I'll kill you. Consider this your only warning."
The corridor was tense, charged with raw magical energy. Neither dared to blink.
Lilith's gaze flickered once more, calculating, before she spun on her heel and vanished in a swirl of shadows, leaving only the faint echo of her footsteps—and the undeniable fact that the war between them had just begun.
The echoes of her footsteps faded quickly, swallowed by the cold stone corridors of Hogwarts. Harry stood alone, wand still raised, eyes scanning the shadows where Lilith had disappeared. His chest rose and fell steadily, but inside, a storm raged.
She underestimated me. That won't happen again.
Harry was looking forward to the time the really faced off. But more than that he wanted to know why she was so obsessed with him and why she was targeting him. Who was behind her? Who wanted to stand in his way?
Elythral disappeared from his hand again as he started making his way back to the Gryffindor common room. Things were more complicated than ever. But he would crush whoever stood in his way. Doesn't matter if it's Lilith or a different organisation altogether.
Harry's footsteps echoed softly on the cold stone as he moved through the winding corridors. His mind replayed the confrontation—Lilith's shock, her fear, and the lethal resolve in his own eyes. This was no longer a game of petty rivalries; it was war.