A certain Hogwarts professor of runes.

His heart stirred; this meant someone had cleaned it, but Harry wasn't sure if it was anyone else. The answer might be where he was headed. He excitedly walked towards Sword Keep, only to be stopped at the entrance.

"I'm sorry, we're not seeing any visitors today. I have important business to attend to."

“Kremi?” Harry looked at the witch who had stopped him in surprise.

“It’s Harry,” Kremy Vera said, greeting him with a smile. “Are these your friends?” She looked behind Harry, recognizing some and not others.

Hermione also seemed somewhat surprised when she saw Clemi.

“It’s a bit chaotic in there, so I came out for some fresh air,” Kremy explained. “Penelope is inside.” “Is Arik back yet?” Hermione asked. “Not yet,” Kremy sighed. “He went to inspect the branches in Latin America and probably won’t be back for another week.”

As among the earliest members of the 'Future World' company, Lupin and the others were entrusted with important responsibilities. Over the years, they took charge of different parts according to their interests. Clemi liked to delve into technology, Penelope was more inclined to day-to-day management, and for a time Lupin was distracted from the work of the Order of the Phoenix, so the two of them were responsible for keeping the company running smoothly. As for Arik, he was in charge of the overseas branches.

“By the way, Kremy,” Harry thought of the question that had arisen in front of the ice cream shop, “have you seen Florin Foske?”

Kremy thought for a moment, "The owner of that ice cream shop?"

“That’s right!” Harry said excitedly.

"They're here," Kremy replied affirmatively.

“I remember he was captured by Voldemort, wasn’t he?” Ron asked from the side.

“Because he was lucky enough to escape becoming an Infernal.” A strange voice broke the silence between them. Harry looked up sharply and saw an elderly man with gray hair. He exclaimed in surprise, “Mr. Foske?”

“Mr. Potter, I’m so glad you still remember me,” Florin said with emotion.

“Of course I remember you!” Harry said. “But how did you escape?”

“I didn’t escape; I was rescued by the Aurors,” Florin said. “The Dark Lord captured a group of people who were knowledgeable in the history of magic, and I was one of them. He also captured some wandmakers. I know a guy named Gregorovich, but he was unlucky and couldn’t withstand the torture.”

Harry vaguely knew about this. Voldemort fabricated the rumor of the 'Ten Great Wands' by torturing these people. Mr. Ollivander was originally one of the targets, but he managed to escape the Death Eaters' pursuit. He then spread rumors that he had fled abroad, but in reality, he had been hiding in the basement of the wand shop, even fooling Voldemort.

“You just mentioned infernal corpses?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Florin’s expression darkened, tinged with lingering fear. “The Dark Lord tortured us based on our reputations. He wanted to know some very secret things, and I happened to know a little bit. Luckily, he changed his mind halfway through and instead asked some of the more famous wandmakers. I wasn’t tortured much, just kept locked up for a long time… I wasn’t confident I could hide it from the Dark Lord. Those who were tortured to death were used to make Inferi.”

Harry's feelings were complex. He felt both hatred for Voldemort's cruelty and confusion about Florin's ambiguous words, until he saw Hermione's lips move and it dawned on him. Florin was referring to the Deathly Hallows. Luna's father had inquired about this from Florin when he was young, and Voldemort might have also heard of the legend of the Deathly Hallows. But even if he knew, he would only be interested in the Elder Wand. If Voldemort interrogated them one by one, Mr. Foske would definitely not escape unscathed. However, with the rumors of Professor Hyp possessing the Elder Wand, Voldemort's attention may have shifted, and his focus had turned to other wandmakers.

“Anyway, at least I’m still alive and can discuss my ordeal with you. The Auror who rescued me said he got a secret lead; I guess he might be an informant for the Ministry of Magic. I’ve always wanted to thank him.” Florin recounted his recent experiences. “After being rescued, I recuperated for a few months, and recently I’ve cleaned up the shop, planning to reopen it…”

Florin left.

"Who do you think that informant is?" Harry asked after he left.

"Could it be Snape?" Ron guessed.

“It could also be Lucius Malfoy,” Hermione said.

“Or perhaps Professor Hyp dug useful information out of Voldemort’s brain,” Ron said.

They entered Sword Keep, where the hall was bustling with activity. In the center of the hall were a dozen or so tables, behind which sat a Ministry of Magic official, opposite the shopkeepers of Diagon Alley, who were discussing something while holding a piece of parchment.

A witch near Harry said, "I only sell beauty potions to fix minor blemishes on witches' faces, like freckles or lumps. I don't think they'll be of any use. Any healer could do something similar..."

“Don’t say that, Ms. Prim Purnell. Your beauty potions are far more effective than the magic of a typical healer,” the staff member said patiently.

"Really?" The witch stared at him suspiciously.

They continued walking, when a young wizard, growing impatient, shouted, "I run a wizarding travel agency! Listen—clearly—it's a wizarding travel agency! We specialize in providing thrilling and exciting trips for wizards, but we are not responsible for any dangers that may occur during the trip!"

The Ministry of Magic staff member opposite him persisted, asking, "Do you think it's possible to develop tourism projects specifically for Muggles?"

The young wizard looked at the staff with some confusion. "I'm not sure... Although we did tame a group of zombies, to make it more realistic, there's still a possibility of attacks during the expedition."

“No zombies,” the staff member said immediately. “I mean, something unusual, something novel, something that will attract attention.”

The wizard pondered for a while, and just as Harry and the others decided to leave, he heard him ask from behind, "What about the Bermuda Triangle? But a wizard went missing last year, and they still haven't found him..."

Neville suddenly stopped, looking alarmed. He whispered, "My great-uncle wanted to go there for a trip, and I have to persuade him to give up the idea."

A familiar voice came from ahead.

"...Obviously nobody cares whether your inventory list has one more page or one less page, because it doesn't matter."

It was either Fred or George speaking. They took two steps forward. In the foyer, near the inner side, Fred and George sat in the same chair, opposite a sullen-faced Percy. Harry hesitated, stopping in his tracks; it seemed they had come at an inopportune time.

“Since you’ve brought up the list,” Percy said through gritted teeth, “I can tell you right now that half the goods are substandard—”

“You can’t do that!” Fred shouted.

“This is abuse of power for personal gain,” George shouted as well.

“Oh, you can go to the Ministry of Magic and report me,” Percy said with a confident smile. “Let’s see whose side they’ll take? The nosebleed nougat that makes you bleed, the vomit-vomiting candy that makes you vomit, the fainting flower candy that makes you suddenly faint…”

Penelope leaned over from the next seat.

“Your brother did the right thing. Muggles are fragile; they’re said to need months to recover from a broken bone,” she said sternly. “We need to exclude as many risky items as possible when considering the trade list.”

Ron grinned and put his hands on the twins' shoulders, taking the opportunity to kick them while they were down.

"To be fair, some of their products are so bad that even a wizard couldn't handle them. They need to be rigorously vetted."

Fred and George turned around, one on each side, and stared at Ron with blank expressions, making him feel uneasy.

Harry had anticipated this scene. He looked up, searching for the constant commotion that had been going on ever since he entered Sword Keep. A group of house-elves were peeking out from the upstairs railings, looking down with excited expressions.

Chapter 701 Negotiation Progress

Is it a house-elf?

Harry's heart skipped a beat as he recalled Hermione's words at Gringotts: the house-elves of the future world and Hogwarts had agreed to join the Pan-Magic League, and the Ministry of Magic would next gradually purge the house-elves from the hands of the ancient families, especially those being abused...

The house-elves of the Futureworld Corporation were in remarkably good spirits, perhaps due to the smiles on their faces, or perhaps because their clothes were closer to normal human aesthetics. They weren't just wearing pillowcases; you could distinguish their shirts, pants, and the strange strips of cloth used for decoration. This was better than Hogwarts. For a moment, Harry suddenly understood Hermione's long-standing persistence.

He looked up at the lively little ones on the second floor, trying to spot a familiar one. It wasn't easy; he scanned back and forth twice but couldn't find Dobby. Just as he was wondering what was going on, he felt a hand tug at his pants.

Harry lowered his head.

"Dobby?"

“Harry Potter, sir! Hello!” A house-elf looked up at him with big, round eyes. He was dressed somewhat like Professor Flitwick at school. It was Dobby, whom Harry knew well. His eyes were glistening with tears of joy at their long-awaited reunion.

Harry had a bad feeling. Dobby took two steps back and then pounced into his arms, his long, thin arms holding him tightly, his thin nose poking Harry's stomach painfully. Harry struggled to break free. "You too, Dobby," he said breathlessly.

Dobby took a few steps back and looked Harry up and down with a smile.

"Harry Potter, sir!"

Harry looked Dobby over. He was in good spirits, and his clothes showed his unique taste in many details. For example, the magenta sweater under his coat seemed to be a Christmas gift from Ron some year ago. Over the sweater was a tie with a green circle with two black dots embroidered on the tie clip. Harry guessed that it was Dobby's handiwork, but he didn't know what it meant. The house-elf also wore two thick socks of different colors, and he walked without making a sound.

“Mr. Harry Potter, please come with me.”

The house-elf grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him through the crowd, up a steeply curved spiral staircase.

“Wait, wait, Dobby, I didn’t come alone, I came with some friends, Ron, Neville, Hermione—” Harry said, looking back and seeing Ron being watched by his twin brothers, Neville with Mr. Ollivander, seemingly having Mr. Ollivander examine his wand; Hermione was completely gone, she had just been there a moment ago—

"Dobby knows, it was Dobby who called Miss Granger away, Dobby has something to give to Mr. Harry Potter!"

"You called Hermione away?" Harry asked in surprise.

“Yes, Dobby is following Mr. Lupin’s advice, and Dobby is willing to help,” said the house-elf who was leading the way. They went up to the second floor. “Dobby has prepared a coming-of-age gift for Mr. Harry Potter—”

“Oh, um, thank you, Dobby.” Harry paused, suddenly realizing that his seventeenth birthday was only a few days away; the past month had flown by. But then he remembered that Bill and Fleur's wedding was also scheduled for these few days, though he wasn't sure if it would go ahead as planned. And—why was Lupin looking for Hermione?

Harry's mind raced with various thoughts, but all his doubts vanished when he saw a house-elf wearing a pink, lace-trimmed pillowcase. "Dobby, is that Sparkle?" He recognized Sparkle's big brown eyes and his nose, which resembled a flattened tomato—or rather, he remembered the latter more vividly.

But what truly made him distinguish her from a group of house-elves was that she was one of the few who still wore a pillowcase as clothing.

“It’s Sparkle,” Dobby said. They walked down the escalator to the Great Hall of Sword Keep, where Harry could see the backs of people’s heads.

"But she's still wearing her pillowcase, why? Isn't she free now?"

Dobby slowed down. "Sparkle can't forget Mr. Crouch. Sparkle has been counting down the days, saving money as she goes. Three years, two years, now there are only six months left."

So, Barty Crouch has six months left in prison? Harry thought to himself.

They passed through a dozen doors, each flanked by ten-foot-tall magical golems. These golems had been useful during the Death Eater offensive, and some were also placed in the Ministry of Magic's main hall and important corridors. They stopped before one door, which, if anything, had two handles, one of which was unusually low.

When Harry saw Dobby turn the handle effortlessly, his doubts were answered.

Inside the door was a huge, spacious circular space. Harry glanced around and saw that it was divided into several areas. Besides the two rows of small stools in the work area, there was also a place for house-elves to rest. All the furniture was miniature, and Harry thought he had grown taller.

He instinctively turned around, and Hermione's figure flashed past on the fifth floor.

……

“Professor, you’re here too?” Hermione was surprised to see Felix as she closed the door from inside. Dobby had only told her that Lupin was looking for her, without mentioning anyone else. Therefore, although Sword Keep was theoretically Professor Hyp’s property, she wasn’t very confident of seeing the professor here.

Sometimes Hermione had a distinct feeling that if the professor were to resign from the university one day, he might hide away somewhere no one could find him (like on the moon) to study magic, only to suddenly remember he still had a group of friends after three or five years and then come out to visit them. But the professor was actually not very good at interacting with people; many of his reactions were pre-planned, used directly in different situations. This secret was only known to his closest confidants. Furthermore, the professor wasn't a particularly warm person; very few things could move him, which is why he always seemed so unhurried.

Felix, of course, had no idea what Hermione was thinking. He nodded to her, gesturing for her to come over. There were other people in the spacious office; Hermione looked around in turn: Lupin, Snape, and—

"Professor Slughorn?"

Hermione's voice rose slightly as she looked in surprise at the short, chubby old wizard curled up in a ball on the sofa. His round body was encased in an exquisite and magnificent robe, and his walrus-like beard twitched. He was none other than Slughorn, the Potions Professor at Hogwarts.

“Come here, Miss Granger, we were just talking about potion simplification,” Slughorn said kindly. Hermione found a seat, and he continued, “Felix mentioned you had a similar experience, uniting students from four houses last year, right? To prepare for the .ls exam…”

"That's a completely different matter from what we're discussing," Snape said coldly. He hadn't forgotten that the source of those simplified recipes was the textbooks he had used before, which were essentially shortcuts. He had been quite proud of them in his early years, but later abandoned them because they were of no benefit to the advancement of potions.

“You’re right, Severus,” Slughorn said absentmindedly, “but I think the cleverness and leadership shown here are commendable… Of course, we’re talking about something more difficult, and my advice is to start with the easy parts, it’s all in the textbooks!”

Hermione listened for a while and realized they were talking about how to make potions available to ordinary people. Snape had warned in class not to try to give potions to Muggles because you couldn't be sure which potions required the wizard's own magic to work, and no potions master had ever compiled statistics on that.

Snape and Slughorn chatted idly, spouting potion theories not found in textbooks. Hermione listened, only vaguely understanding, wishing they would speak more slowly so she could jot them down. Just then, she heard a soft chuckle.

Hermione stared blankly at Felix.

Felix lowered his head, revealing a slight curve to his lips in profile. He coughed lightly twice, pulled a silver pocket watch from his pocket, and said calmly, "If you don't plan to develop in the potions field, there's really no need to listen. I've compiled a chart of spells and potions; their effects are all roughly the same… I'm here today because of something else; I need your opinion. Oh, I recommended you; I think you're suitable…"

Before Hermione could speak, Snape suddenly looked at Felix and said sarcastically, "The beauty of potions lies in the subtle differences. Some people give up on this subject early on and naturally cannot appreciate its subtleties and the breathtaking beauty it brings."

Hermione blinked. Was this implying that Professor Hyp didn't know anything about potions? She then looked at Professor Slughorn.

While Slughorn wasn't as direct as Snape, he conveyed the same meaning indirectly. Hermione's tried-and-tested ability to summarize came into play again, concluding that both meant roughly the same thing—don't listen to the nonsense of laymen.

Felix rolled his eyes, flicked open the watch cover, and Valen emerged, ducking to avoid the Dark Lord's hand. He ran to Hermione, gesturing wildly. Hermione's heart skipped a beat—a golden card? She looked at Felix, who stiffly turned his head away.

Just then, the door opened from the outside, and Ms. Burns and Mr. Weasley walked in. Both of them looked exhausted.

“You look tired. Is the negotiation not going well?” Lupin asked gently.

Mr. Weasley took off his glasses and bent down to wipe the lenses with the corner of his clothes. He was balding, which made one worry that in a few years he might have a similar hairstyle to Slughorn. Mr. Weasley muttered, "Not good. The Muggle Prime Minister brought in a bunch of legal experts who were nitpicking at the wording. In short, we've made little progress all morning."

“We are outnumbered,” Lupin said. “This hinders our development in many areas, such as law. Of course, it doesn’t have to be exactly the same. I’ve always believed that the purpose of law is to articulate our expectations of society using limited language.” He paused, then continued, “We have contingency plans for this situation, right?”