Chapter 114 - 114: The Special Letter

In the living room, Chris sat on the sofa, chatting with Mr. Weasley. On the way back, Mr. Weasley had noticed the glum expressions on Fred and George's faces and knew trouble was brewing. Rather than heading home, he'd hopped out of the car and headed straight to Chris's house, where he could avoid the scene and give Molly some space.

Molly had been on edge for days, worried sick over the news of a dark wizard sighting at Hogwarts. She hadn't eaten or slept well, and it pained him to see her so strained. Now that it was over, perhaps she could let off steam by giving the twins a firm talking-to. Given their antics, it was an opportunity he wasn't about to disrupt.

When Mr. Weasley saw Kyle enter, he greeted him warmly. "Ah, Kyle! I never got around to asking, how's school been?"

"Honestly, it's been great," Kyle replied. "The professors are easygoing, and the students are friendly. It's just what I'd hoped school life would be."

"That's wonderful," Mr. Weasley said, taking a sip of Firewhiskey. "Time flies, doesn't it? Soon, you'll be starting your second year...and Ron will be starting his first!"

Chris laughed. "That'll lighten the load for you and Molly, won't it?"

"Yes, true enough," Mr. Weasley chuckled. "Though Ginny's still at home, and she's no easier than her brothers." He proceeded to tell a few tales about Ginny's feisty personality and the ongoing battles between her and Ron.

Kyle wasn't especially interested in these stories, so he took his luggage upstairs. By the time he came back down, Mr. Weasley was making his farewells.

"Are you sure you won't stay for dinner? Molly's made plenty," Mr. Weasley offered.

"Maybe next time Arthur," Chris replied with a smile. "Besides, you may be eager to catch up with Charlie now that he's graduated."

"But I'll come over for a drink later," Chris said. "I've brought back some Gigglewater from North America. It's the real deal."

Mr. Weasley's face lit up. "Now that's something I've been wanting to try for ages!"

The two shared a parting grin. Both Chris and Mr. Weasley enjoyed a drink in their free time, though they always kept their indulgence in check—unless something truly special happened, like the day Ginny was born. That night, Mr. Weasley had gotten so joyfully drunk he'd stopped every passerby to share tales of his romance with Mrs. Weasley. It remained his most embarrassing memory, one he'd tried to erase from everyone's mind.

Not long after Mr. Weasley left, the sounds of dinner preparation filled the kitchen. Drumsticks lined up to be coated in egg and breadcrumbs, while a knife floated in the air, shredding cabbage into precise, even strips. The pasta shells, already stuffed, scooted into the oven, greasing themselves with oil as they went.

Diana never liked using magic for directly cooking food, feeling it lacked a certain something. Soon enough, though, a delicious meal was ready. Coincidentally, she and Chris had both completed their work just in time to celebrate Kyle's return from his first school year.

The three of them gathered at the table, eating and chatting, with Kyle doing most of the storytelling about his school adventures, which Chris and Diana were most eager to hear.

Kyle picked some of the more amusing highlights: his quirky roommate, who seemed to be an expert on "forbidden spells," the thrills of the Quidditch season, and the fun he and his friends had selling maps and small trinkets.

However, he wisely left out certain stories, like his ventures into the Room of Requirement or sneaking into the Restricted Section after hours—he had no intention of joining the Weasley twins in the chorus of anguished yells that had just echoed through the village.

Chris and Diana listened quietly as Kyle spoke, but soon their expressions shifted.

"Wait..." Chris raised an eyebrow, unable to stop himself from interrupting. "You sold seven hundred Galleons' worth of Rowan twigs?"

"That's just the raw material," Kyle replied seriously. "From gathering—well, selecting—the right branches to completing the finished product, it took all six of us six months. Seven hundred Galleons is barely a fair fee for all our hard work."

"Really..." Chris looked at him skeptically. Something about Kyle's story didn't sit right with him, though he couldn't pinpoint exactly what. It seemed almost impossible that six young wizards could earn 700 Galleons in just six months. He certainly hadn't pulled off anything like that during his school days.

If Chris was merely suspicious, Diana was sure Kyle wasn't telling the whole truth. In her view, Kyle would never spend six months of his life for only 100 Galleons. The story sounded bloated—maybe more like half a month's worth of effort.

"Oh, by the way, Dad," Kyle said, as though suddenly remembering something, "I'm not sure if Fred and George have mentioned their earnings to their family. So when you're having a drink with Mr. Weasley later, maybe don't let that slip."

Kyle genuinely had forgotten to mention it, and it had nothing to do with their earlier boasting at the station.

Chris took a sip of Butterbeer, muttering a barely discernible response.

After dinner, Chris helped clear the table before grabbing an elegant bottle of wine and heading off to see Mr. Weasley. Kyle, meanwhile, returned to his room.

Though he hadn't been home for most of the year, the room was spotless and didn't have any stale odor, suggesting it had been cleaned in advance. His suitcase lay on the floor, so he unpacked a bit and took out a stack of parchment, setting it on the desk.

Before going to bed, he had one last task to complete—the one he'd promised Kanna on the train. He'd been paid 150 Galleons to take care of the issue, and if he didn't follow through, he risked getting a bad reputation.

Kyle picked up a quill and ink, and soon, the sound of his writing filled the room.

He wrote steadily, finishing two full pages on the parchment before stopping. After checking over his work to ensure it was satisfactory, he placed it in an envelope. Just then, Ratton flew in through the window and lifted one leg instinctively.

"Just like before," Kyle instructed, glancing at the name on the envelope. "Head to the Owl Post Office in Diagon Alley and send it from there."

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