"Welcome to Merlin's Lodge, everyone!" The witch approached them with a broad smile, her voice brimming with enthusiasm.
"My name is Bertha Jorkins, and I work in the Ministry's Department of International Magical Cooperation. I'll be your guide today as we enter the Merlin Memorial Hall."
Bertha was clearly thrilled, almost overly eager to welcome them.
"Please, follow me—this way," she said, waving them toward a large door.
"I hope you don't mind me asking, but…" Her tone was laced with curiosity. "Are you really the William Stark, the one who captured Tywin?"
William hesitated, then nodded.
"I knew it!" She looked delighted.
"I've been reading The Daily Prophet every day! Who would've thought Tywin was a Death Eater? And that you actually caught him! Could you tell me more about it?"
"Did you know," she continued, "Tywin was a Ravenclaw a couple of years above me? Though, he never seemed like a true Ravenclaw to me… I even kept an eye on him once or twice, especially because he was so close with that Potter fellow."
Bertha clearly loved to gossip. William quickly realized she had a talent for prying into others' business.
Noticing that William seemed quiet, she apologized, "Oh, I'm so sorry for rambling."
Just as he thought she might finally fall silent, she suddenly leaned closer and lowered her voice.
"By the way, I heard something about this case involving Judy Crouch, too. She's the niece of my boss, Mr. Crouch. Is that true? Honestly, if it were me, I'd say Mr. Crouch should just send her to Azkaban, like he did with his own son…"
Mr. Weasley coughed loudly, and Bertha looked up with a puzzled expression. "Oh—right! We're here already."
William looked up to see a serene, indoor river stretched out before them, shrouded in a dense mist. Beyond it, the silhouette of Merlin's Memorial Hall took shape, its straight, angular lines resembling an ancient Greek temple.
Beneath the warm lighting, the single massive pillar of the Merlin Monument stood like the mast of a majestic ship.
"Thanks, Bertha. We'll take it from here," William said.
"Oh, all right." Bertha looked slightly disappointed.
"I'll write to you later; we can continue the conversation," William offered with a small smile.
"Really? Oh, wonderful!" Bertha beamed. "If you hear anything exciting, you must tell me. I'm very good at keeping secrets!"
Once she had wandered off, Fred furrowed his brow. "You're not actually going to tell her, are you?"
William lowered his voice. "Of course not. But didn't you notice? She seems to know quite a lot about what goes on in the Ministry."
"That's true…" George nodded. "She just leaked quite a bit."
"Exactly," William replied. "Eventually, we'll need someone with Ministry connections who can keep us in the loop as we expand our business. Bertha could be useful."
"Couldn't agree more," said Fred, a gleam of interest in his eye.
Both Mr. Weasley and Mr. Diggory had reliable connections, but they would be unlikely to share Ministry information with the twins, and Mr. Diggory wasn't as well-connected. Bertha, however, was perfect.
"Did anyone else find her behavior a bit odd?" Cedric suddenly asked.
William nodded thoughtfully. "Bertha remembers a lot—even details from school."
"But didn't that other Ministry official say she's been forgetting things lately?" Fred pointed out, looking puzzled.
"For someone her age, that's not normal," William explained. "Memory issues can be caused by heavy doses of Memory Potions or excessive Memory Charms."
Both the potion and the charm were commonly used to remove specific memories, but if administered too frequently, they could also remove other, crucial memories, leading to chronic memory loss.
For someone to have used Memory Charms on a Ministry employee like Bertha, they'd need to be bold—or desperate. William was beginning to wonder what Bertha had seen.
Soon, they entered Merlin Memorial Hall.
The hall itself was structured like an ancient Greek amphitheater, its half-circular walls arched elegantly in Italian plaster, framing sandstone pillars with flecks of ancient breccia.
At the center of the large black-and-white marble floor stood twenty-five life-sized statues of the Knights of the Round Table.
As they moved forward, they quickly spotted Professors Flitwick and McGonagall at the front.
Upon seeing Professor McGonagall, the twins immediately went quiet. McGonagall was one of the few people who could instantly put a damper on their usual antics.
Hermione's face brightened; it was McGonagall who had personally visited her home to convince her parents to let her attend Hogwarts.
The professor even took Hermione on her first trip to Diagon Alley.
McGonagall was surprised to see Hermione here as well.
The group took their seats, and over the next half hour, the hall steadily filled up.
Wizards continued to approach, greeting Professors Flitwick and McGonagall. The two professors, having taught for decades, had quite a few former students in attendance.
Mr. Weasley was also proving to be unexpectedly well-connected, shaking hands with several prominent wizards.
Soon enough, Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, arrived with a large entourage in tow.
Striding over with a wide smile, he immediately sought out William and grasped his hand, greeting him warmly as if they were old friends.
"William, how have you been?" Fudge asked, his face beaming.
In truth, they'd only briefly met before in Dumbledore's office, but Fudge was determined to act as if they had a close rapport.
"Let me introduce you to a few people," Fudge said, turning to the wizards with him.
"This is William Stark, as I'm sure you've heard—the youngest recipient of a Merlin Order."
One of the wizards with him wore black robes and looked as stern as Professor Snape, though he carried the distinctive scent of potion ingredients. William quickly guessed who he might be.
"This is Damocles Belby," Fudge said, clapping the man on the shoulder as if they were lifelong friends.
"He's the creator of the Wolfsbane Potion. William, I'm sure you've heard of him. Thanks to this potion, werewolves can retain their sanity even after they transform, as long as they take it for a week before the full moon. It's saved the Ministry quite a bit of trouble, though the cost is still steep."
"Cornelius," Belby said with a frown, "I told you that Wolfsbane Potion wasn't quite ready for release. It's still too costly."
"Yes, but…" Fudge wrung his hands, "my friend, the timing was perfect. We needed good news, and those werewolves needed this potion. And look—you've already received the Order of Merlin, Second Class. You can always refine it later, can't you?"
Listening to their exchange, William began to understand.
Belby had wanted to wait until he could lower the cost of Wolfsbane Potion, but Fudge had pushed for an early release, seeing it as an ideal way to gain public support after the Ministry's recent scandals.
It was smart, William realized. Fudge had deflected public attention from the Ministry's troubles by announcing Belby's potion.
William glanced over at Belby.
This potions master was the uncle of his classmate, Marcus, who had mentioned before that his family didn't have a strong relationship with this particular uncle.
Otherwise, William imagined Marcus would be here on this occation.
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