She lived alone. The duty of carrying on the Bones family line now rested with Susan's branch. Whether Amelia didn't want marriage—or simply had never found the right person—no one could say.
Dinner was plain: a hamburger steak, fresh and juicy beef paired with a tangy homemade sauce. The only flaw was the baked beans that accompanied it. Tom barely touched them.
"Not fond of beans, are you?" Amelia Bones had noticed, smiling as she teased. "Susan once told me you were very particular about food—and that's why you got along with the Abbott children. Seems she was right."
Tom didn't bother with false courtesy. "I prefer rice. Long-grain, if I can get it."
"Then next time I'll remember. For now, eat more meat." With a flick of her hand, another steaming hamburger steak floated out of the kitchen and landed neatly before him.
Tom thanked her and tucked in. But after the meal, it was time for business.
The three of them moved into the sitting room. With a wave, Tom placed three alchemical items on the table: a glass sphere the size of a fist, a cloak, and a necklace.
"Three?" Amelia asked with interest. "Do they all serve the same function?"
"Not exactly," Tom replied, picking up the glass orb first. "This is the Eye of Warning. It's similar to a foe-glass. But unlike the foe-glass, which reacts only when danger is imminent, this requires you to attune it with your own magic. Once attuned, if anyone within fifteen meters directs hostile intent at you, it will glow and vibrate."
He smiled faintly. By now, his mastery over magical attunement was polished to a fine art—so much so that even Nicolas Flamel had praised him. What once required complex, clumsy craft, Tom now refined into sleek, efficient tools.
"Very practical," Amelia admitted, nodding. Her eyes shifted to the cloak.
Tom gave it a sharp flick, and the Cloak of Wardings soared to the coat rack by the door. He fired a spell at it. The impact shimmered across its surface like water rippling—no damage. Then another. And another.
By the fifth spell, the cloak disintegrated into tatters, fluttering to the floor.
"Each cloak can withstand about five standard spells from an ordinary witch or wizard," Tom explained calmly. "But note—standard spells. Against a Head-of-House-level opponent, or a Killing Curse, or… certain other dark magics, its durability will be significantly reduced."
"Do you have another?" Amelia rose from her chair. "I'd like to test it myself."
Tom, prepared for the request, handed her a second cloak. She tested it—five spells again before it shredded.
Tom couldn't help smirking inwardly. For all her authority, Amelia Bones's strength was no more than average Auror level.
"I'd advise you let Alastor Moody try it," Tom remarked dryly. Amelia's expression stiffened, betraying the truth behind the title she carried.
Lady Greengrass laughed outright, making no attempt to hide her amusement. Amelia shot her a glare, then smoothly redirected the subject. "And the necklace?"
"That one's expensive," Tom warned. "It isn't really designed for Aurors."
He lifted the Guardian's Pendant.
"Inside is a crystal that stores magic power. As long as it's not overstrained, it absorbs your excess magic naturally. When full, its defensive capacity is roughly five times stronger than the warding cloak—enough to withstand an ambush from ten opponents for a while. More importantly, if the crystal shatters, it triggers a final built-in Apparition spell, teleporting you two kilometers away."
By the time he finished, both Amelia and Lady Greengrass had eyes gleaming like hunters who'd spotted prey.
Defense and escape. A survival talisman.
Yes, magical escape devices existed—but they were rare heirlooms, guarded jealously by old families.
"Tom, how much? I want ten." Lady Greengrass spoke first, decisive and rich.
Amelia's heart burned with envy. She couldn't afford ten. She could barely justify even one. Yet as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she knew better than anyone how many enemies lurked in the shadows, sharpening knives for her back.
"Why buy?" Tom waved it off with an easy smile. "Yours is already prepared, Auntie. If you want more, I'll need time—they're not easy to make."
Lady Greengrass smiled, satisfied. Family didn't quibble over gold. Her daughters had spent a week under Tom's roof without her raising a word of complaint.
"Director Bones," Tom said smoothly, tapping the Eye of Warning with his wand. "These—fifty Galleons apiece."
"The Cloaks of Warding—one hundred each."
"As for the Guardian's Pendant…" His smile sharpened. "That one can't be measured in Galleons. But—if you agree, I'll sell the first two to the Ministry at half-price. And I'll gift you five pendants. Use them to build your network."
It was like the heavens dropping a feast into her lap.
But Amelia Bones did not lose her head. If anything, her sharp instincts screamed louder.
"Riddle," she said quietly, eyes narrowing. "Such generous concessions… What is it you want in return?"
Tom's smile deepened, sly and deliberate.
"For now? Nothing. Consider it… a political donation."
Her eyes hardened.
Political donation?