"Even if I'm in a lower year, it doesn't matter—as long as I can learn magic, that's what really counts."
Putting down the newspaper, George thought to himself as he continued his breakfast.
He had given some thought to which house he might be sorted into during the sorting ceremony.
Most likely Gryffindor, he figured.
Gryffindor valued bravery, and he considered himself quite brave. Just yesterday, he had taken over this body and successfully plotted to take down an old wizard.
"Good morning, Doran—or rather, I should call you by your new name, George!"
The shop door opened, and a young, energetic witch walked in. It was none other than Tonks, the Auror he had met yesterday.
"Good morning, Miss Tonks."
George put down his egg pancake, greeting her with a smile.
Tonks plopped down across from him without hesitation, reaching out to ruffle his hair.
"No need to be so formal. Just think of me as your sister from now on."
George, a bit helpless, smoothed his tousled hair but didn't reject her friendly gesture. Instead, he brought out an extra breakfast he had prepared.
"I made an extra breakfast this morning—let's eat together."
"How did you know I skipped breakfast? Hmm, what's this? It tastes amazing!"
Tonks took a bite of the rolled egg pancake and her eyes lit up. The soft pancake wrapped around vegetables and sausage had a unique flavor.
Her cooking skills were notoriously bad, so she never bothered making breakfast, often just grabbing something quickly or skipping it altogether.
Though there were magical cooking spells, they only worked if you already knew how to cook. Cooking magic could speed up the process but wouldn't make the food taste good if you lacked skill.
It was the same principle as household magic: it only worked well if you already knew how to clean.
"This is an egg pancake, made with eggs and flour, filled with shredded green peppers and carrots."
George gave a simple introduction to the breakfast he made.
He didn't actually know if Tonks had eaten, but preparing an extra portion regardless would likely make a good impression.
"Didn't expect you to be such a good cook! I bet you'll end up in Hufflepuff when you're sorted."
Though she didn't entirely understand his description, Tonks gave him a thumbs-up, which made George pause.
"Could I really end up in Hufflepuff?"
He then shook his head. While he preferred Gryffindor, he was open to any house, knowing each had its advantages and drawbacks.
But Hufflepuff seemed the least likely.
Many Hufflepuff graduates ended up in the food industry, though the house's qualities emphasized loyalty, honesty, and perseverance, rather than cooking skills. Their proximity to the kitchen might just be a coincidence.
Out of those traits, he felt he didn't quite fit most of them—except perhaps perseverance.
After breakfast, George, accompanied by Tonks, started the process of handling inheritance procedures.
Their first stop: the renowned Ministry of Magic.
"Hold onto my arm. This might feel a little uncomfortable, but it'll be over soon."
Tonks placed George's hand on her arm and offered some reassurance before beginning the incantation.
"Apparate!"
With a slight popping sound, Tonks and George vanished on the spot.
Since Knockturn Alley wasn't far from the Ministry, she could bring him there by Apparition, skipping the need for Floo Powder.
"No wonder not every wizard prefers to travel by Apparition."
George found himself engulfed in darkness, feeling air pressing in from all directions, almost suffocating.
It felt like iron bands were squeezing his chest, his eyes being pushed back into his head, and his eardrums pressed deep inside.
The experience was unpleasant, to say the least.
But it was brief—only a second or two—and he soon found himself back in the light.
"The first time is always uncomfortable. You'll get used to it eventually."
Tonks laughed at his discomfort.
"Come on, let's go get you registered."
With that, she led George to the central reception area as he looked around in curiosity.
"It really is quite grand."
He couldn't help but marvel.
The floor was a dark wood polished to a gleaming shine, and the peacock-blue ceiling above was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that kept moving and shifting, like a gigantic magical bulletin board.On either side of the walls, golden fireplaces were embedded, and witches and wizards in various robes were stepping in and out of them.
In the center of the atrium was a magical fountain, featuring five statues: a handsome wizard holding his wand aloft, a beautiful witch, and surrounding them were a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf.The centaur, goblin, and house-elf all looked at the wizard and witch with adoring eyes, as if there was some deeper meaning behind their expressions.
Of course, that wasn't the point. The point was that these five statues, each about two or three times larger than life, were actually made of solid gold.
"Daily Prophet, ladies and gentlemen, get your Daily Prophet here."
Beside the fountain, a wizard selling the Daily Prophet was calling out for sales.
By twelve noon, after four hours of running around, George finally completed all the inheritance procedures and was Apparated back to the shop by Tonks.
"All show, no substance. No wonder they were so easily dismantled by Voldemort."
That was George's criticism of the Ministry of Magic.
The Ministry might have appeared magnificent and grand, but the wizards working inside were lazy, inefficient, and corrupt.
If it hadn't been for Tonks, he figured it might have been quite challenging for him to fully inherit the estate.
Still, it wasn't entirely without gain—at least he had witnessed a lot of interesting things within the Ministry.
There were many magical items imbued with alchemical enchantments, and quite a few convenient minor spells for office work.
It was an eye-opening experience.
It also made him realize that while magic in the Harry Potter world rarely had widespread destructive power, and most spells were more functional in nature, it didn't necessarily mean that they were weak.
In certain ways, it could be even more dangerous and terrifying, because many spells were very subjective and couldn't simply be judged by their destructive power.