Molly looked at her youngest son with an expectant gaze, hoping he would be as sensible as he had been a few times before and obediently hand over those shiny Gold Galleons—even if it was currently just a draft.
With that money, she might finally be able to buy a few brand-new books by Mr.
Lockhart.
Molly let her imagination run away with her, her heart fluttering with anticipation.
“Hand it over to you?” Tris stared at Molly, his face written all over with distrust.
“If I give it to you, Mum, you’ll go straight out and spend it all on that Lockhart’s books.”
Exposed on the spot, Molly froze.
For a moment, she genuinely wondered if her youngest son knew Legilimency.
Of course, that was impossible.
Even if Tris did know Legilimency, he couldn’t possibly read her mind without her noticing.
Realizing this, Molly felt a rush of embarrassment.
Her sons had seen right through her little scheme.
Seeing the knowing expressions on all her sons’ faces, Molly couldn’t help but blush slightly.
*Had I really made it that obvious?*
Still, the dignity of the true head of the household could not be challenged!
Molly widened her eyes, putting on a stern front.
“It’s unsafe for a child your age to carry around so much money! What if you run into a scammer or a thief? Besides, wasn’t it because you read Mr. Lockhart’s books that you managed to write a story like that in the first place?”
“My style is completely different from Lockhart’s!” Tris shook his head firmly.
While his draft was indeed plagiarized, it was lifted from the female-targeted web novels he had read in his past life.
It had absolutely nothing to do with Lockhart.
At most, he had only learned how a few spells were cast from those books.
Besides, although this windfall had caught him off guard—at least in terms of the amount—he had already thought of plenty of uses for it.
He was not about to let his mother talk him out of it with a few sweet words.
“I’m not even leaving the house anyway. When we go to Diagon Alley this weekend to pick up school supplies, I’ll deposit it straight into Gringotts! It’s not like someone’s going to break into Gringotts just to rob me of a little over a thousand Gold Galleons.”
Molly opened her mouth, completely rendered speechless for a moment.
Turning around, she gave the family’s nominal head, Arthur Weasley, a hard push.
“Look at your son, talking back to his mother in circles! Aren’t you going to say something?”
“The boy’s about to head off to Hogwarts. He’s old enough to manage his own affairs…” Arthur had no desire to play the villainous father snatching his son’s savings.
Ever since he finished modifying his muggle car, Arthur had felt a sense of contented detachment, lacking any real urge for extra Gold Galleons—a fact Tris was profoundly grateful for, glad his father hadn’t taken up studying airplanes instead.
Seeing her useless husband refusing to back her up, Molly sat back down, huffing with annoyance.
“Eat your dinner.”
Everyone ate in silence, no one daring to speak—the oppressive aura of the matriarch was still very much present.
However, the children’s eyes were darting back and forth, exchanging subtle glances, each harboring their own calculations.
*Thump!* A sharp sound echoed from the direction of the window.
Everyone flinched, turning toward the noise.
They saw a gray-and-black owl head pressed flat against the glass, slowly sliding down.
“Errol is getting far too old. We really ought to get a new owl for the house,” Molly said, her eyes shifting over to Tris.
“No problem. When we go to Diagon Alley this weekend, I’ll buy an owl for the family!” Tris agreed readily.
It seemed keeping every last drop of his “ill-gotten gains” was out of the question.
To keep his mother happy, Tris decided a reasonable compromise was in order.
Besides, a single owl wouldn’t cost that much anyway.
Seeing that her son was still obedient, Molly’s mood brightened slightly.
“Charlie, go take a look.”
“Alright.” Charlie stood up and walked over to the window, scooping up Errol, the family’s veteran owl, who had knocked himself unconscious against the glass.
He set the bird down on the sill, then stood there frozen.
At first, the others at the table didn’t pay much attention.
But after waiting a while without Charlie returning, they turned to look.
“Charlie, what’s wrong?” Molly noticed that Charlie’s shoulders were trembling slightly, and she immediately asked with concern.
Truth be told, Molly wasn’t overly obsessed with Gold Galleons.
As the saying goes, people who sleep under the same blanket tend to think alike.
Since Arthur Weasley cared little for money, Molly wasn’t particularly greedy either.
She had simply wanted to buy a few of Lockhart’s new releases—and perhaps get an autograph if possible.
Seeing her second son acting strangely, her attention shifted completely.
Charlie slowly turned around.
To everyone’s astonishment, their second brother—the broadest and toughest among the siblings—had reddened eyes.
Clutched in his hands was an unfolded parchment letter.
“Charlie, could it be…” Arthur Weasley guessed, a strain of nervous tension entering his voice.
“Yeah!” Charlie gave a hard nod.
Though his eyes were rimmed red, an irrepressible joy was written across his face.
“An offer letter from the French dragon sanctuary!”
“It went through?” Molly reacted, equal parts thrilled and incredulous.
“Yes, it went through! And the letter says that since even Albus Dumbledore holds me in such high regard, I must be exceptional talent. They’re letting me skip the three-year apprenticeship and go straight to being a full Dragon Handler right after basic training!” Charlie trembled all over with excitement.
Arthur Weasley and Molly were filled with absolute delight at first, but their expressions quickly turned odd as they turned their eyes toward Tris.
“Heh!” Tris chuckled.
“Charlie, what did I tell you? Those few points you missed on your N.E.W.T.s don’t mean a thing! As long as Dumbledore writes you a letter of recommendation, there isn’t a place in all of Europe you can’t get into!”
“This… How could…” Beside him, Percy Weasley wore an indescribably complex and conflicted expression.
After graduating, Charlie had desperately wanted to research dragons at a sanctuary.
However, his N.E.W.T.
scores hadn’t met the entrance threshold for Europe’s premier dragon reserve, leaving him with options only at second-rate facilities in Romania or Africa.
At the time, the entire family had accepted it as a done deal.
It was Tris who suggested that Charlie write to Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, asking them to write a recommendation letter to the French dragon sanctuary.
In Tris’s mind, the Weasley family were staunch supporters of Dumbledore and core members of the Order of the Phoenix.
Pure, unblemished allies!
For such a minor favor, would Dumbledore really refuse to give them face?
Sure enough, Dumbledore had happily agreed and written the letter.
And anyone in the know understood just how much weight the old headmaster’s name carried in the European—and global—wizarding community!
The French sanctuary had agreed without hesitation, even waiving Charlie’s apprenticeship period.
If nothing else, the difference in starting salary alone was a substantial sum.
If Charlie had followed the standard procedure and gone to Romania, he would have had to start as an apprentice.
For the first two years, he likely would have struggled to make ends meet and needed family subsidies.
Now, skipping the apprenticeship meant earning a full salary right away, allowing him to contribute back to the household.
Even Bill, the super-achiever who had been directly headhunted by Gringotts, had required family subsidies in his first year.
The entire family was ecstatic about the news, except for Percy.
It wasn’t that Percy wasn’t happy for Charlie; his rigid nature simply couldn’t accept that a single recommendation letter from Dumbledore could outweigh multiple N.E.W.T.
certificates.
Especially when he had been planning to emulate Bill by securing twelve O.W.L.
certificates, working tirelessly toward that very goal.
Percy felt his worldview taking a severe beating, cracking just a tiny bit…
Everyone’s attention was fixed on Charlie, so nobody noticed Percy’s subtle reactions—except for Tris.
Tris viewed his third brother quite differently than he did Fred, George, or Ron.
Unlike the twins and Ron, who were mischievous slacker types, Tris displayed a genuine appetite for learning and knowledge that fit Percy’s taste perfectly.
As a result, over the past few years, Percy had been the one to guide Tris in his studies most often.
Even when Tris asked remarkably basic questions, Percy never showed the slightest hint of impatience.
Percy was ambitious, and he appreciated ambition in others.
Tris felt that someone who worked so hard to climb higher shouldn’t be subjected to so much criticism.
In the original story, Percy had gone through a period of utterly distasteful behavior.
But that was only because his vision had been clouded by hollow promises.
In the final battle, he had still resolutely marched onto the battlefield.
Having been in this world for a few years, Tris had managed to grasp Percy’s character and understand his underlying motivations.
Percy had talent and ambition; he wanted a platform to showcase his abilities.
But the Weasley family was far too laid-back, even becoming a drag on his career advancement.
That was the real reason he had leaned toward Fudge and the Ministry of Magic for a time.
Yet once he learned Voldemort had truly returned, he firmly chose to fight alongside his family.
*Hopefully, my presence will keep my third brother from taking that wrong path,* Tris thought to himself.
“Charlie got accepted—that’s wonderful news!” Molly said radiantly.
“Let me take us out to celebrate this weekend. It aligns perfectly with getting school supplies anyway.”
As she spoke, her gaze landed back on Tris once again.
She clearly expected Tris to step up and foot the bill.
Tris pretended not to see a thing.
He had been the one to arrange Charlie’s recommendation by begging Dumbledore for it, and now he was supposed to pay for the celebration too?
Fleecing the rich was one thing, but this was getting ridiculous.
Still, speaking of going to Diagon Alley…
Tris shifted his gaze toward Percy, who was currently feeding breadcrumbs to the rat in his pocket.
The rat was missing a digit on its front paw.