Chapter 302: Joke Shop and Department of Mysteries' Preparations
"Haha, so you really threw fireworks directly at Umbridge's head?"
Inside Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, the twins and two idle dragons chatted comfortably by the crackling fireplace. The joke shop buzzed with colourful magical energy, shelves lined with pranking devices that occasionally sparked or giggled on their own.
"Here, this is absolutely fantastic," George said with obvious pride, pulling out an ornate monocle and handing it to Aiden with a flourish.
Aiden synchronised the magical content within the lens and transmitted it seamlessly into his own monocle, his eyes lighting up with appreciation as he reviewed their handiwork.
"Brilliant work," Aiden said enthusiastically, giving the two entrepreneurs a thumbs up before transmitting a copy to Astoria for her review.
"So, who exactly is this mysterious girl?" George asked with curiosity, hooking his arm around Aiden's shoulder in a brotherly gesture.
"A business partner," Aiden replied diplomatically.
"Hmm, I don't think that's the whole story," Fred said suspiciously, staring at Aiden, who was clearly trying to change the subject.
"Hello, I'm Astoria Greengrass," Astoria said with a charming smile, extending her hand to shake with George and Fred in turn, her manner perfectly poised and confident.
"Oh, now I remember!" George exclaimed, slapping his forehead dramatically.
"You're that Slytherin girl! How could we have forgotten you!" Fred said, turning to study Astoria with renewed interest and recognition.
"The effect of a powerful memory charm that makes everyone related forget information about me," Astoria explained casually. "And I'm currently the person in charge of a certain gentleman's organisation. If you need some questionable materials in the future, you can come purchase them from me."
She winked meaningfully at Aiden, then stood gracefully and Disapparated with barely a whisper of displaced air.
"Oh ho, Head of an organisation," George said with a sideways grin, moving closer to Aiden with obvious intrigue.
"Questionable materials?" Fred echoed with the same mischievous smile, also sliding closer with eager curiosity.
"Alright, you two troublemakers. If you want a discount on anything she offers, go negotiate with her directly. I don't have that kind of authority anyway," the annoyed dragon said, standing up and walking toward the exit.
"Haha," the two remaining in the shop looked at each other and burst into knowing laughter.
Inside Hogwarts, the twins' legendary departure continued to spread throughout the campus like wildfire, with students frequently paying tribute to their rebellious heroes through acts of creative mischief.
Stink pellets and Dungbombs were thrown everywhere with reckless abandon, making the ancient castle reek of sulphur and worse substances that defied identification.
Peeves hadn't forgotten his sacred agreement with the twins either. He went completely mad, targeting Umbridge throughout the castle corridors and classrooms. Wherever she went, Peeves relentlessly attacked her with water balloons, stink pellets, and other creative projectiles that left her soaked and humiliated.
Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick deliberately ignored the complex Transfiguration spells the twins had permanently cast on various corridors, allowing the magical chaos to continue unabated.
Umbridge's administrative work at the school became increasingly difficult and frustrating with each passing day.
On Friday morning, Lee Jordan smuggled a mischievous Niffler into Umbridge's office through an open window. The creature nearly gnawed off Umbridge's ring-covered hand in its desperate search for shiny objects, so naturally Hagrid suffered the administrative consequences for poor supervision of magical creatures.
Umbridge drew a large, vindictive X on Hagrid's evaluation form, citing inadequate oversight and security protocols.
Meanwhile, Harry became increasingly agitated and unstable over these difficult days. First Aiden had been forced into exile, then Dumbledore, and now Hagrid faced dismissal. The people he could trust and rely on were continuously disappearing from his life.
At the same time, Voldemort's psychological influence on him grew deeper and more invasive, with visions of the mysterious corridor at the end of the Department of Mysteries constantly flashing through his troubled mind.
"Closer, closer," Harry muttered repeatedly in his restless sleep, tossing and turning.
"Harry!" Ron said urgently, shaking his roommate awake from another disturbing nightmare.
"Hah," Harry gasped, sitting bolt upright on his bed and breathing heavily.
The next day, Ron told Hermione about these concerning episodes, and Hermione once again suggested that Harry continue learning Occlumency from Snape but was firmly refused.
At the intersection of Downing Street and the British Parliament building, nine levels underground in the heavily secured Ministry of Magic, a familiar dragon once again visited the Department of Mysteries.
"Good morning, Dragon. Come to play with me again?" A certain elderly gentleman smiled warmly from behind his cluttered desk.
"How are the preparations progressing?" Aiden asked without preamble, settling into a comfortable chair.
"Well, everything's completely ready. We have our most advantageous weapon against chaos properly positioned," the Director said with satisfaction, squinting his experienced eyes. "The prophecy orbs are all prepared."
"I'm curious about how Sister Tom plans to break through your legendary defences." Aiden enquired about the tactical details of their carefully laid plan.
"She intends to incite a major riot on the fifth level, then break into our secure areas while we're busy suppressing the distraction," the old fox replied, having apparently completely figured out their opponent's predictable strategy.
"The fifth level? How did she manage to... no, wait. Is it the centaurs? Those treacherous bastards!" Dragon scales began appearing along Aiden's jawline as his anger flared.
"No, you can't really blame them entirely," the Director said diplomatically, pouring Aiden a glass of fresh lemon juice while handing him a coconut popsicle. "After all, she collected quite a few centaur souls during the first Wizarding War. More than enough for her to hold proper sacrificial ceremonies."
"What about the Easterners? Have you managed to contact them?" Aiden asked, taking a refreshing sip of the tart lemon juice.
"They've already received our urgent warning," the Director confirmed, pouring himself some aromatic tea. "Apparently, they'll be activating the Celestial Mystery Ritual for an extended period to ensure Life doesn't suffer any unfortunate accidents."
"Celestial Mystery Ritual?" Aiden looked at the Director with genuine puzzlement and curiosity.
"Cough, I don't know extensive details about it," the Director admitted somewhat sheepishly. "Some things I learnt accidentally... no, incidentally discovered during past diplomatic exchanges in the East."
The Director leaned close to Aiden's ear and whispered conspiratorially, "In the distant past, Eastern wizards discovered that Life and Death have an extremely close, symbiotic connection. Using this profound discovery, they employed massive amounts of death to attract and successfully capture Life itself. They established an incredibly complex alchemical ritual at the geographic centre of their nation that deliberately blurs the boundary between life and death. They call this ritual that merges life and death into one seamless whole the Celestial Mystery Ritual."
"Where did they obtain such massive amounts of death?" Aiden asked, raising an eyebrow with dark curiosity.
"That's an extraordinarily populous nation," the Director replied with a knowing expression. "Their annual death toll approaches the total population of an entire European country."
"Not to mention the tremendous energy generated by dynastic collapses throughout history," the Director muttered without finishing his ominous sentence.
"But with this powerful ritual, their civilisation has never experienced any significant gaps from ancient times to the present day, and they can produce large numbers of artificial wizards through controlled means."
The Director's tone carried obvious envy as he sipped his tea to moisten his throat.
"You're actually envious of their methods?" Aiden asked with raised eyebrows.
"Hmph, I certainly am not! And stop reading my mind, you intrusive dragon," the old fox said with exaggerated indignation.
"Don't we also have effective methods to transform ordinary people into wizards now?" Aiden pointed out, spreading his hands reasonably.
"Sigh, we're still starting nearly a thousand years too late in this endeavour," the Director lamented heavily. "How much effort and experimentation will it take to explore viable models for wizards and ordinary people to coexist peacefully?"
"We can't expect to accomplish everything revolutionary in one generation," Aiden said with an unexpectedly mature tone. "Relax and have patience. There will be capable successors to continue our work."
"But the most promising successors don't seem interested in taking over my administrative responsibilities," the Director replied meaningfully.
Aiden looked up to find the Director gazing at him with obvious, teasing expectation.
"I already gave you Oliver's services; what more could you possibly want from me?" Aiden said, decisively deflecting the uncomfortable implication.
Knock knock. Oliver walked through the door carrying a thick stack of official documents and forms.
"Who exactly did I get given away to?" Oliver asked with obvious confusion, his voice full of question marks.
"Nothing important. I was just saying I want to give you a special gift," the dragon said smoothly, changing the subject with practised ease.
He pulled out a unique prank device crafted by the twins and handed it over with a casual gesture.
"A product developed by my entrepreneurial brothers. If you find it useful, you can visit Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley to purchase more," Aiden added, throwing in a helpful advertisement.
"Prank devices? Do you honestly think I'm still a child?" Oliver protested while nevertheless slipping the item into his pocket and handing the important documents to the Director.
"Are all these valuable prophecy orbs really going to be destroyed?" A trace of genuine pain flashed across Oliver's features as he contemplated the loss.
"It's better than allowing them to pile up lives and create devastating chaos later," the Director said grimly, signing the authorisation documents one by one before departing with Oliver.
"Oh right, tonight this entire facility is in your capable hands," the Director announced cheerfully. "We're departing for the East on urgent business."
The Director's head poked back through the closing door, and gave Aiden a conspiratorial wink.
Several black lines of frustration appeared on Aiden's forehead as the implications sank in.