Hogwarts' Golden Glory

Fudge's expression at that moment looked like someone had stuffed a whole box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans that tasted like boogers into his mouth.

He suddenly jumped up, pointing at Dumbledore and screaming, "This was all your doing! You planned this all along!"

"My dear minister," Dumbledore sighed and shook his head, "if I were to scheme against anything, I would at least choose a more interesting method than Gringotts transfers."

He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "For example... turning the golden statue in the Ministry of Magic's main hall into chocolate? That would certainly delight the visitors."

Chief Wizard Markbans suddenly slammed the scales shut: "Minister, please watch your words and actions!"

Fudge finally broke down completely.

He grabbed the top hat that had fallen to the ground, but he used too much force and tore the brim off.

"I want to resign!" he screamed. "I'm going to file a complaint with the International Federation of Wizards! I want to—"

"Of course you can do that," Kane said politely, "but before that..."

He pointed to Fudge's feet. "You've stepped in Ms. Umbridge's 'emergency pink ink'."

Fudge looked down and immediately let out a scream that sounded inhuman.

On his pair of dragon-skin boots worth one hundred gallons.

The ink, now stained with fluorescent powder, is leaving a trail of shimmering footprints on the floor.

When Fudge stumbled out of the courtroom.

Even Peter's sobs were drowned out by the laughter of the crowd.

Umbridge tried to catch up, but tripped over his own scattered parchment.

The iconic bow was askew behind his ear.

The last rays of the setting sun streamed through the glass dome of the Ministry of Magic's atrium, bathing the marble floor in a golden glow.

Harry and Sirius sat side by side on the edge of the fountain.

The light reflected off the water danced on their faces.

"So..." Harry began cautiously, his fingers unconsciously stroking the brand-new acquittal.

What are your plans now?

Sirius tilted his head back, letting the sunlight shine directly on his pale face.

For the first time in ten years, there was no Dementor shadow blocking the sunlight.

"First," he squinted his gray eyes, "I want a real meal—not one of those moldy Azkaban breads. Then..."

He suddenly turned to Harry, revealing a slightly sinister smile (because the wound on his lip hadn't healed yet), "I'll buy you a Nimbus for two thousand!"

Harry looked up abruptly: "What? No! You don't need—"

"I need to."

Sirius's voice suddenly became unusually firm, "If James knew that I haven't given you anything in these twelve years, he would crawl out of his grave and strangle me."

He paused, then added, "I believe you must have inherited James' Quidditch talent!"

A warm feeling welled up inside Harry.

But he quickly shook his head.

"Professor McGonagall gave me a Nimbus for two thousand."

Sirius was still somewhat surprised when he heard this!

"I remember, first graders weren't allowed to bring flying brooms, right? James complained about it for ages!"

"Because I'm Gryffindor's Seeker now!"

Harry smiled; he still wanted to share his achievements with his family.

Sirius Black couldn't stop laughing when he heard this: "I knew it! You'd be a pro at Quidditch!"

"Or..." Sirius's eyes lit up, "I know James left a set of Quidditch gear back home, it's made of dragon skin, back in the day—"

"Actually..." Harry hesitated for a moment, "I'd rather know about my dad. The real story, not the hero stories people tell me."

Sirius's expression instantly brightened: "Merlin, where to begin? In fifth grade, to woo Lily, he poured a whole bottle of hair-smoothing serum into his hair, and the result was—"

"Mr. Blake."

A calm voice interrupted him.

Kane Malfoy stood three steps away, his posture impeccable, but his eyes held a shrewd assessment.

The air froze instantly.

Sirius's body visibly tensed up, and Harry could feel the muscles in his arms suddenly stiffen.

"Malfoy".

Sirius's voice was even hoarser than it was in the courtroom. "I guess you're here to collect a debt?"

Kane smiled slightly: "Just to confirm that you remember the details of our... agreement."

He magically produced a roll of parchment. "The transfer of ownership of No. 12 Grimmauld Place has been completed, but according to supplementary terms..."

The parchment unfolded automatically, revealing densely packed clauses that gleamed green.

Harry noticed that Sirius's expression was growing increasingly grim.

Sirius was also a little confused at this moment!

What kind of unfair terms did I sign?

"Wait a minute," Harry interrupted, "what do you mean by 'all fixed fixtures and movable property'?"

Kane's grey-blue eyes turned to Harry: "Literally, Potter. The portraits on the walls, the house-elves in the kitchen, even..."

He paused meaningfully, "The Quidditch gear that someone mentioned earlier, the one in the cellar that James Potter wore."

Sirius Black suddenly stood up, the phantom of the chains seemingly wrapping around his wrists again: "All you said was you wanted to use that damn house!"

"I already said, your house naturally includes everything inside!"

Kane calmly folded the parchment. "By the way, Kreacher has already tidied up Regulus's room—it seems he's looking forward to his new master."

Harry saw a flicker of pain in his godfather's eyes.

That name—Regulus—was like a blunt knife plunged into a wound.

"What do you need all that for?" Sirius's voice was hoarse. "Isn't Malfoy Manor enough for you to show off?"

"Collect." Kane lightly dusted off non-existent dust from his cuffs.

"Like those...interesting dark magic items your father collected. Of course, we'll handle them properly."

"The house-elves will come to collect the first batch of books in two weeks." Kane nodded slightly. "Enjoy your shopping... Hopefully Gringotts has unfrozen your vault."

Watching Kane's departing figure, Sirius slammed his fist on the edge of the fountain: "That little viper! He knew all along—"

"We can go find Dumbledore," Harry said hastily. "Maybe we can renegotiate...and Kane isn't that petty! He helped me a lot!"

Sirius Black suddenly gave a bitter smile: "No, Harry. The Malfoy family's greed..."

He gazed into the distance, "I just didn't expect even James's protective gear..."

Harry looked at the heartbroken man before him, unsure of what to say.

A rustling sound came from behind the pillar.

The house-elf Kreacher peeked out with his bulbous eyes: "That spendthrift young master has finally squandered the ancestral home... The mistress will curse him... curse them all..."

"Kreacher!" Sirius shouted, but the sprite had already vanished with a "pop."