I stayed calm while watching the Aurors fail miserably. They couldn't locate the slightest trace of magic or any magical residue, even after lifting floorboards and tearing holes in the floor and ceiling.
During this time, customers began to arrive, but they weren't the usual ones. No, these were the outcasts. Most wizards, upon seeing Aurors, Dumbledore, and even the Minister of Magic himself, would have been too scared or hesitant to enter. But these people had nothing to lose; they decided to take their chances and step inside. It wasn't desperation for a meal that drove them, but curiosity—gossip drew them like moths to a flame.
They started slipping in discreetly, until an Auror abruptly stopped them.
"Hey, leave my customers alone. They just want to grab a bite," I said, rising from my seat and levitating a few menus towards me. I handed them to the waitresses—werewolf women who immediately got to work serving the newcomers.
"You're under investigation," Fudge rebuked me, frowning.
"For illegal Portkeys, which I do not possess," I replied, my voice measured and almost indignant. "But that doesn't mean I should shut down my restaurant, deprive these people of their meals, or lose my livelihood."
Maybe I released a hint of my aura to appear more dignified, although I don't have a true [Aura of Justice] to rely on.
"Since the business remains open," Dumbledore interjected casually, "I'd like to order a tiramisu with those… mysterious chocolates."
We all turned to look at him. Dumbledore was holding a menu with both hands, examining it as if choosing his dessert were the most important matter in the world.
Fudge shut his mouth, stunned. It was as if someone had stabbed him in the back. He was the Minister of Magic, yet Dumbledore's word carried more weight than his. He couldn't contradict or openly challenge him. Resigned, Fudge took a seat and hid his face behind a menu handed to him by the waitresses, his complexion turning a deep shade of purple from frustration.
My employees got to work, attending to the ever-growing crowd of customers. Each was more peculiar than the last. The diversity of hybrids and magical creatures in the world is astonishing—though it also reflects how… pervert some wizards can be in their relationships with all manner of beings. Not that I'm one to judge; I won't be a hypocrite.
I returned to my seat, throwing occasional glances at Dumbledore. For some reason, he was being unusually cooperative with me against Fudge, which was unexpected. I knew he didn't have any direct issues with the Minister at that moment, but his support had to have a hidden motive. When his dessert arrived, he simply smiled at me while eating, leaving me with even more questions.
About thirty to forty-five minutes later, the group of Aurors who had disappeared earlier returned. Some were covered in dirt, dust, and grass. Their expressions showed anguish as Alastor berated them furiously.
"I can't believe the standards have fallen this low! They were just regular boars—maybe a bit bigger than usual. You're wizards, not children!" he shouted, glaring at them. "When we get back, I want a 20,000-word report on boars and how wizards can avoid being dragged through a meadow like sacks of potatoes!"
"Alastor!" Fudge exclaimed, relieved at their return. The Minister was eager to leave as quickly as possible; being surrounded by what he considered "the lowest of the magical world" was pushing him to the brink of collapse. "What did you find?"
"Exactly what we were told," Alastor replied curtly. "A meadow with a herd of boars that seemed to have been drugged with potions of euphoria and rage, driving them mad and making them attack everything in sight. We didn't find much else, except that Apparition is only working for short distances in the area. What about you? Anything useful here?"
"Nothing, sir," replied an Auror who had stayed behind.
Fudge was at his wit's end. Everything he had done that day had led to nothing. He was losing his patience, his dignity in front of everyone, and most importantly, his precious time. Exhausted and frustrated, he decided to wrap things up.
"Since the magic of this artifact cannot be traced, and for reasons of national security, it will be confiscated indefinitely by the Ministry for further investigation," he declared firmly, ensuring that he himself would deliver it to the Unspeakables to uncover its every secret. "Furthermore, all activities related to the acceptance and distribution of work or 'missions,' as they are called here, are hereby revoked."
"I have the proper permits to conduct those activities," I responded calmly yet firmly. "You can take the notice board if you want, but you cannot shut down my business or deprive me of my income when everything is in order."
Fudge glared at me before snapping:
"We can and will. The discovery of unknown magics and the possibility of dangerous groups being affiliated with the jobs you offer compel us to revoke all permits until further notice. Investigations will be conducted, and until then, no similar activities may take place in this establishment," he stated, making it clear he was taking out his frustration on me. "Frankly, this place shouldn't even have been granted those permits in the first place," he added, casting a sharp look at Amelia Bones, who had clearly also drawn his ire.
Dumbledore, who had remained silent until then, let out a deep sigh and rose from his seat. He walked towards the door calmly, and Fudge, hoping to smooth things over with him, seized the opportunity to try and improve his standing.
"Dumbledore, since we're done here…" he began, watching as the Aurors levitated the mission board out the door. "What do you say we head to my office? We could have a chat. It's been a while since our last conversation, and I think it would be good to catch up," he suggested with a smile that tried to appear friendly. He knew he couldn't afford to lose the support of the revered centenarian wizard, especially after the day's events.
"Sorry, Fudge, but I am quite busy," replied Dumbledore with feigned regret. "I only appeared in Diagon Alley for an important matter, although I believe it will no longer be possible to attend to it."
"If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. I'll do everything in my power to help you. That's what friends are for, isn't it?" said Fudge, raising his voice louder than necessary to ensure everyone around could hear.
"Well, truthfully," Dumbledore responded calmly, matching Fudge's volume, "I came here precisely because I heard that this establishment accepted certain work requests. I urgently needed their services as it concerns the safety of a student. But since you have just banned these activities, I suppose it won't be possible anymore. I'll have to seek another solution."
Fudge's face crumbled. The forced smile he wore seemed to melt and shatter in front of everyone present. The veins on his forehead began to show, and his fury was barely contained. He knew that the people filling this place, even though he considered them "scum," were a hub for rumors, and the thought of word spreading that he was interfering with Dumbledore's efforts to protect a student was devastating. Even if he did everything possible to mitigate the damage, a single word from the wizard could ruin his efforts.
With titanic willpower, Fudge managed to force a fake smile, though barely. His composure was on the brink, but even so, he pushed the words out.
"Perhaps I was a bit overzealous earlier," he said in an almost conciliatory tone. "I was merely concerned about the safety of the wizarding world in the face of this unknown situation. But, considering the circumstances, the notice board will be reinstated, although the rest of the establishment can continue operating as usual." Before anyone could say anything, he added, "Now, if you'll excuse me, there are important matters at the Ministry that require my attention."
With hurried steps—some might have described them as a run—he left the premises. He couldn't endure another second of humiliation, and the rage boiling inside him threatened to overflow. As he crossed the door, he swore to himself that he would remember this moment and seek revenge in the future.
Now that Fudge was gone, I approached Alastor Moody, holding a couple of bags that one of my receptionists had handed me moments before. I extended one toward the Aurors as I walked calmly.
"Fifteen Galleons. Here's the payment for the mission..."
"Keep the money, kid. They've already taken your magical... thing, and you'll need it to keep your business running without it," Moody responded, rejecting the bag with a gesture. Around him, the Aurors accompanying him exchanged glances, clearly displeased. After all, they had faced the boars and expected to be rewarded.
"That's not necessary. I already earn a share from every mission carried out here," I replied, insisting as I pushed the bag into Moody's arms. "Take it and use it; it's part of this business's principles. Every job must be paid for."
Despite his initial resistance, Moody eventually gave in.
"Fine..." he said, handing the bag to the Aurors accompanying him. They accepted it quickly, immediately starting to distribute the contents among themselves.
"Wasn't it thirty Galleons?" one of the Aurors asked, raising an eyebrow as he counted the coins and recalled the original reward.
"You didn't pay for the mission," I replied calmly. Turning toward one of the nearby tables, I approached the person seated there. "Here you go: fifteen Galleons for you too, Amelia. Since you paid for the mission, you're entitled to fifty percent."
Amelia looked at me, surprised and seemingly ready to refuse the excess money, arguing that she had only initially given ten Galleons. However, she knew my character and understood that arguing would be pointless. She eventually accepted the fifteen Galleons, though she did so with some reluctance, preparing to leave now that the commotion was over.
I was tempted to continue the conversation with Amelia before she left; recently, I rarely had the opportunity to talk to her in person. But before I could say anything more, Dumbledore approached me with his usual serenity.
"Do you believe your establishment is capable of taking on a task for this old man?" he asked, a flash of seriousness in his gaze.
"Of course. What do you need? We accept a wide variety of requests here. If it's within our capabilities, we'll complete it. If not, we'll refer you to someone who can help," I replied in a salesman-like tone.
"That is reassuring," he responded with a faint smile. "I am offering a reward of one hundred Galleons to locate a particular person."
"That's a considerable sum, though not enough to deal with someone extremely dangerous, so it must not be easy. I think it will be feasible. Who are we looking for?" (Tenebrius)
"Gemma Farley," said Dumbledore, observing my reactions closely. "A Slytherin student from Hogwarts, recently disappeared."
My lips twitched into a slight grimace, barely noticeable, as I suppressed any evident change in my expression. I took a moment before replying.
"Alright. Please write the request and reward on a parchment, place it on the board, and leave the reward at the reception desk."
"But the board..." Dumbledore began, glancing toward where the notice board had been before. To his surprise, he found a new one in its place. The Aurors, along with Fudge's followers, were already gone, and the board had been reinstated as quickly as it had been removed.
The old wizard let out a small chuckle and nodded. He did as I asked: he wrote the request on a parchment, placed it on the board, and delivered the money to the reception desk.
"Give us a few hours, and we'll have news," I assured him as I watched.
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Sorry for the delay, there was a storm and I've been without internet for almost two days.