Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures-Chapter 1241: Verification

The new office, with its long name — The Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects — could inspect and manage all magic items, making it much more important than Mr. Weasley’s previous office. Almost everything owned by wizards could be included under its jurisdiction

“What does this office do?” Hermione asked with interest.

“Well, you see, in all the panic about You-Know-Who, odd things have been cropping up for sale everywhere, things that are supposed to guard against You-Know-Who and Death Eaters. You can imagine the kind of thing — so-called protective potions that are really gravy with a bit of bubotuber pus added, or instructions for defensive jinxes that actually make your ears fall off, and…” frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

Hermione nodded in agreement, she had spent the past year preventing students from using these ‘dangerous items’.

Because of Voldemort’s return and the approaching exams, Hogwarts students often made some strange things last year. As a prefect, perhaps the only prefect in the school who remembered her identity and responsibilities, Hermione certainly had to prevent the spread of these things and the use of them by younger students.

Her biggest rivals were Fred and George, the school’s biggest suppliers of prank products.

It was almost impossible to stop the two of them. Hermione had talked to Evan about this more than once, hoping he could help put an end to it.

But this actually didn’t help much, as Fred and George repeatedly asked Evan to get Hermione off their backs.

Even after the two of them left school, the number of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes products in students’ hands was increasing. Fortunately, although most of these items were somewhat dangerous, Fred and George never scammed anyone. That was the key difference between their products and the counterfeit magic items made and distributed by others.

Anyway, Hermione had confiscated a lot of these dangerous items from students…

Apart from Fred, George and Filch, she probably had the largest inventory.

“Someone should take care of these dangerous magic items,” Hermione agreed.

“Exactly … well, in the main the perpetrators are just people like Mundungus Fletcher, who’ve never done an honest day’s work in their lives and are taking advantage of how frightened everybody is, but every now and then something really nasty turns up. The other day, Arthur confiscated a box of cursed Sneakoscopes that were almost certainly planted by a Death Eater. So you see, it’s a very important job, a real fight against You-Know-Who; and I tell him it’s just silly to miss dealing with spark plugs and toasters and all the rest of that Muggle rubbish,” as she spoke, Mrs. Weasley had a stern look at the end.

She stopped talking before she finished and suddenly screamed.

Following her gaze, Evan, Harry and Hermione turned their heads to see a large clock that was perched awkwardly on top of a pile of sheets in the washing basket at the end of the table. It had nine hands, each inscribed with the name of a family member, and usually hung on the Weasleys’ sitting room wall, though its current position suggested that Mrs. Weasley had taken to carrying it around the house with her.

Every single one of its nine hands was now pointing at “mortal peril.”.

As they watched, Mr. Weasley’s hand had switched to “traveling.”

“He’s coming!” said Mrs. Weasley, rising from her chair.

“Mr. Weasley is still at work this late?”

“Yeah, almost every day until around midnight. The office has been really busy lately!”

“Why are all the hands stuck on ‘mortal peril’? Does that mean…”

“Well, it’s been like that for a while now,” said Mrs. Weasley, in an unconvincingly casual voice, “ever since You-Know-Who came back into the open. I suppose everybody’s in mortal danger now. … I don’t think it can be just our family. Look at what’s been said in the papers. It’s like the end of the world. I don’t know anyone else who’s got a clock like this, so I can’t check. Perhaps…”

Just then there was a knock at the back door and Mrs. Weasley hurried to it; with one hand on the doorknob and her face pressed against the wood she called softly, “Arthur, is that you?”

“Yes,” came Mr. Weasley’s weary voice. “But I would say that even if I were a Death Eater, dear. Ask the question!”

“Oh, honestly…” said Mrs. Weasley, somewhat sheepishly.

“Molly!”

“All right, all right … What is your dearest ambition?”

“To find out how airplanes stay up.”

Mrs. Weasley nodded and turned the doorknob, but apparently Mr. Weasley was holding tight to it on the other side, because the door remained firmly shut.

“Molly! I’ve got to ask you your question first!”

“Arthur, really, this is just silly. …”

“What do you like me to call you when we’re alone together?”

Even by the dim light of the lantern, Evan, Harry and Hermione could tell that Mrs. Weasley had turned bright red. Evan let out a little chuckle, and Hermione’s face also flushed slightly. She stared at the door for a moment, then quickly turned and kicked Evan under the table, signaling him to stop looking and focus on his soup.

Harry was in the same boat, and he also felt warm around the ears and neck.

He followed Hermione’s example and hastily gulped soup, clattering his spoon as loudly as he could against the bowl.

“Mollywobbles,” whispered a mortified Mrs. Weasley into the crack at the edge of the door.

“Correct,” said Mr. Weasley. “Now you can let me in.”

Mrs. Weasley opened the door to reveal her husband, a thin, balding, red-haired wizard wearing horn-rimmed spectacles and a long and dusty traveling cloak.

“I still don’t see why we have to go through that every time you come home,” said Mrs. Weasley, still pink in the face as she helped her husband out of his cloak. “I mean, a Death Eater might have forced the answer out of you before impersonating you!”

“I know, dear, but it’s Ministry procedure, and I have to set an example. Something smells good — onion soup?” Mr. Weasley turned hopefully in the direction of the table.

“Oh, Evan, Harry, Hermione! We didn’t expect you until morning!”

He walked over and shook hands with each of them in turn, and Mr. Weasley finally dropped into the chair beside Evan as Mrs. Weasley set a bowl of hot soup in front of him too.

“Thanks, Molly. It’s been a tough night. Some idiot’s started selling Metamorph-Medals. Just sling them around your neck and you’ll be able to change your appearance at will. A hundred thousand disguises, all for ten Galleons!” Mr. Weasley began to talk about work.

“Just like Metamorphmagus, Tonks can do it.”

“Yes, but Metamorphmagi are very rare. Without the aid of Polyjuice Potion, it is difficult, if not impossible, for other wizards to change their appearance.”

“So what really happens when you put them on?”

“Mostly you just turn a fairly unpleasant orange color, but a couple of people have also sprouted tentacle-like warts all over their bodies. As if St. Mungo’s didn’t have enough to do already!”

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