The office fell silent, the doors and windows tightly shut.
The Prime Minister sat behind his desk, watching the steam rise from the teacup. The wisps of vapor drifted into his nose, carrying an inviting aroma. The indicator light on the secure telephone remained dark, and the man in the corner portrait watched the group intently.
Discussing trade with five wizards—what a bizarre scene.
"What's in it for us?"
The Prime Minister raised an eyebrow, suppressing the trepidation in his heart as his politician's brain began to whir.
"Those magical wizard gadgets of yours are banned from sale by the Statute of Secrecy, and we don't need anything else. Trade should be a two-way street. All I see is you taking advantage of us."
"We establish trade relations, your goods open up a new market, creating new jobs and earning more gold. Is that not enough?" Melvin's expression remained calm.
This Prime Minister was perhaps conducting business with wizards for the first time. He glanced secretly at their wands from time to time, his gaze flickering with unease. One didn't need Legilimency to easily see through his thoughts.
He wanted to gain more benefits at the negotiation table but didn't know his specific chips and capital, so he was using vague language to bluff out the other side's hand.
"Didn't one of your wizard alchemists say that equivalent exchange is an immutable law? We sell things to you; likewise, you should sell things to us."
"No one ever said that. Even if they did, that's just a principle of alchemy..."
Madam Bones stared at the Prime Minister, her brown eyes deep, relaying the trade knowledge she had recently heard from the professor:
"But many Muggle scholars have said that insatiable greed is the nature of a politician. For a high-ranking official like you, things like trade surpluses and deficits are common knowledge, right?"
The Prime Minister sighed for no reason, his tone weakening slightly. "Can you really not sell anything?"
"We must abide by the Statute of Secrecy."
"What if it's not goods, but services?" the Prime Minister suddenly asked.
Madam Bones turned to look at him. Crouch paused, not understanding the Muggle Prime Minister's meaning.
"Because of that Statute of Secrecy, you can't reveal the existence of magic or sell magical alchemical items, but that doesn't mean you can't provide services!"
The Prime Minister spoke excitedly: "Perhaps you haven't realized it yourselves, but magic can play an unimaginable role in many areas!"
"For example, transportation, and Professor Levent's magical storage methods..." The Prime Minister pointed to the fireplace burning with green flames, then to the teapot.
"Is this the trade relationship you really want?" Madam Bones frowned deeply. "Let me emphasize again: we will not participate in any military disputes in Muggle society."
"Actually, you don't need to know too much, ladies and gentlemen. Just provide the service according to the order requirements." The Prime Minister looked at the Acting Minister and probed tentatively, "Transporting goods to where they are needed—that's very easy for you, isn't it?"
The Falklands War had ended not long ago. The British military had won a grueling victory, but fighting away from home meant supply lines were too long. Transporting weapons and ammunition to the front lines cost far more than their production value—doubling or increasing tenfold was normal.
If they could use magical fireplaces... Britain would once again be the empire on which the sun never sets.
Thinking of this, the Prime Minister took a sip of tea in excitement, his heart burning hot.
"..."
It spilled on the table.
Fudge looked at his teacup, hesitating to speak.
Madam Bones didn't think for too long before giving her answer, shaking her head. "Cooperation requires a comprehensive review by the Ministry of Magic and the Wizengamot."
The Prime Minister's fantasy was punctured, and he was somewhat annoyed. "Then I also have the right to refuse cooperation."
It was clear he was trying to take a tough stance in front of the wizards, but he lacked confidence, and his slightly trembling voice betrayed his timidity.
Crouch shook his head and turned to the young professor, hoping he could end this meaningless dispute. But Melvin just held his teacup, sniffing the aroma unhurriedly, as if the negotiation had nothing to do with him.
Madam Bones remained silent.
The Prime Minister thought he had found the other side's bottom line. Over the next few minutes, he constantly used the chips in his hand to press and force, trying to get the wizards to agree to provide those non-compliant services.
Melvin cleared his throat and suddenly interrupted him: "Prime Minister, we chose Britain only because of geographical proximity. But distance and space are not obstacles for wizards. If we wish, we can perfectly well cooperate with other Muggle governments."
The Prime Minister's expression changed. "Besides Downing Street, who else can you go to? The Pentagon? The Elysée Palace? Surely not the Kremlin?"
"None of them." Melvin shook his head, speaking unhurriedly:
"Worldwide, some Ministries of Magic are already in contact with Muggle regimes. For example, in Albania during times of unrest, residents used gold to hire wizards to help build shelters, exchanging food and clothing with each other during special periods..."
Albania was a very special existence. Many Dark Wizards lived there in seclusion to avoid pursuit. Both the Muggle and wizarding regimes were unstable, making it difficult for the International Confederation of Wizards to govern.
Voldemort's shade hiding in the Black Forest of Albania was also because he favored its remoteness and seclusion, a mixed bag where the Order of the Phoenix couldn't track him.
"As for the other places you mentioned, it's not impossible. Although the Magical Congress of the United States of America strictly abides by the Statute of Secrecy, because immigrant wizards are hard to govern and hold accountable, they don't prohibit wizards from buying and reselling ordinary people's food and appliances...
"The relationship between the French Ministry of Magic and their Muggle government is also quite good, at least closer than ours. Last summer, they jointly cracked cases of terrorist attacks and child trafficking. There were wizards among the terrorists, and the rescued children were also wizards."
The Prime Minister's expression changed, staring straight at the wizards, revealing a panicked look of falling behind in an arms race.
"If abiding by the Statute of Secrecy is the only way to establish diplomatic relations..." The Prime Minister nodded with difficulty. "Then... let's abide by the Statute of Secrecy. Start with grain and oil commodities, recall your staff mixed in Downing Street, and form a special Department of Commerce."
Crouch nodded, and Madam Bones curled the corners of her mouth, beginning to discuss the specific details of the cooperation.
It wasn't until dawn that the group bid farewell and stood up to walk toward the fireplace. No one saw anyone wave a wand, but the locks on the tightly closed doors and windows clicked open, the drawn curtains parted, and the green light on the disconnected secure telephone lit up again.
"Oh right, about that fugitive Peter. It won't affect ordinary people, right?" The Prime Minister remembered the initial topic and looked up to stop them.
"No problem. It's just a rat that broke out of prison, hiding in the sewers. Could it possibly summon some demon to destroy the world?" Melvin smiled.
The wizards threw down green powder, making the fire roar even higher, and stepped into the emerald green flames.
The Prime Minister watched silently as their figures disappeared. Compared to previous meetings, the gains from this conversation were beyond imagination.
The fire died down. The wizards had truly left. The Prime Minister immediately sprang into action.
First, he trotted to the fireplace, confirming there was no firewood or residual magical dust. He tested the remaining warmth, finding the marble still cold, and stood there dazed for half a minute.
Recovering his senses, he suddenly went to the portrait in the corner, draped a handkerchief over the frame to block the short man's view, tiptoed to close the doors and windows, and returned behind his desk.
He picked up the steaming teapot, poured himself a full cup, took a shallow sip, smacked his lips, and savored the expression.
...
In the blink of an eye, it was mid-March.
After the snow melted came the long rainy season. There was a lot of rain this spring, but fortunately, the temperature gradually warmed up. When attending Care of Magical Creatures class on the grounds and in the forest, students no longer shivered from the cold.
After every Quidditch practice, players didn't need to down a Invigoration Draught or Pepperup Potion to prevent colds.
As the Seeker for the house team, Harry had no substitute and had to attend every practice. He often went from reading letters from his godfather in the castle, feeling the warmth of family, to being soaked like a drowned swallow the moment he hit the pitch.
Not a drowned rat, because his feet didn't touch the ground.
Swapping out his Firebolt for the competition-standard Nimbus 2000, he was either flying around the pitch or practicing the Wronski Feint under Wood's direction.
Even while changing clothes, there was no peace, as he had to listen to Wood analyze the current situation.
"New term at Hogwarts, second half of the season, the points gap has widened..."
In his last few months as captain, approaching graduation, Wood was preparing for his N.E.W.T.s while overseeing training, constantly anxious. He nagged in the players' ears during meals in the Great Hall, during breaks between classes, and in the common room.
Rumor had it that even while sitting on the toilet in the bathroom, Wood was nagging while he did his business.
Amidst this nagging, the final match of the round-robin tournament arrived.
Saturday morning. Not raining, not sunny. Wind from the northwest.
"Good weather for Quidditch..."
Harry followed Captain Wood to the Quidditch pitch, his gaze sweeping over the spectator stands, the captain's nagging replaying in his mind.
There were many empty seats in the Slytherin stands. It was clear many students from the snake house hadn't come to watch, as their round-robin games were over.
Two wins, one loss. They had only lost to Gryffindor, currently leading in points.
The Gryffindor spectator section was much more packed. Lion banners fluttered in the stands, students cheered and shouted happily, and their laughter echoed throughout the stadium.
They had previously beaten Slytherin and Ravenclaw. There was one round-robin match left: today against Hufflepuff. If they maintained a perfect record, leading far ahead in points, they could prepare early for the final after Easter.
The other enthusiastic cheer echoing above the stands came from the Hufflepuff spectators. They had previously beaten Ravenclaw but lost to Slytherin.
One win, one loss. This was a do-or-die match.
The number of people in the Ravenclaw stands was neither high nor low. Everyone sitting there had a relaxed, contented smile on their face. They had also finished their round-robin games—with a record of all losses.
The remaining matches had nothing to do with them. The eagle house students could enjoy the purest fun of Quidditch.
...
Deafening cheers filled the entire stadium, surging back and forth like waves.
Beaters and Chasers chased and gamed, scores seesawing, the excitement intense. On the outer ring of the pitch, the tug-of-war and extreme turns between the two star Seekers, Harry and Cedric, offered a spectacle no less thrilling than the main battlefield.
This was undoubtedly a match far exceeding student levels. In just ten minutes, the audience was hyped up.
Amidst the cheers, Professor McGonagall pursed her lips tightly, saying nothing.
The scoreboard on the goal hoops showed the score:
100:110
Hufflepuff was actually leading temporarily, and in the Seeker duel, Cedric seemed to be faintly suppressing Harry.
Is Gryffindor going to lose this match?
Professor McGonagall felt as nervous as that boy Oliver, her heart suspended and unable to settle.
Head of Hufflepuff House Sprout sat not far away, with Professors Flitwick and Snape beside her. The former didn't care much about winning or losing at Quidditch, and the latter two, finding it irrelevant to them, cared even less.
The three discussed the two teams above the pitch with smiles in their eyes.
As Cedric entered the N.E.W.T. level, his brilliance gradually blossomed. More and more school professors noticed this young student. Unlike the flightiness and mischief of his peers, his magical power grew rapidly. His gentle, steady, down-to-earth, and diligent character helped him reveal talent in all aspects.
The first student to summon a corporeal Patronus at the school gates, the Seeker dancing freely on the pitch, the professors' capable prefect, the students' caring partner...
"Cedric has improved very quickly in this year's Quidditch matches. In the game against Slytherin last term, if the Chaser hadn't been injured and left the field, maybe you would have gone further. It doesn't matter if he fails this year. As long as Cedric maintains his form, in the next few years, Cedric will definitely be able to bring home the House Cup!"
Professor Flitwick paused. His most thoughtful chat partner wasn't there, and he felt something was missing.
"..."
Professor Sprout's eyes crinkled with laughter.
Snape listened quietly from the side, pondering telling his own players to mind their influence when they got back—tactics could be gentler.
At this moment, Professor Flitwick sighed and brought up the young professor who was absent today:
"Melvin went to purchase items for the Easter feast this time. I wonder if he can make it back before the game ends? I heard the Three Broomsticks, Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, and Honeydukes all purchased ingredients from Muggle suppliers with the help of the Ministry. This is the first time. Changing to new channels and new suppliers, Melvin's procurement this time is different from usual."
"It might take some time. The Ministry suddenly lifted restrictions on purchasing Muggle goods. Madam Rosmerta, Madam Puddifoot, and Mr. Flume aren't stupid; they can definitely guess it has to do with Melvin. They'll probably hold him up for consultation."
Sprout analyzed while watching the game with a smile.
"Isn't that why Lupin went with him to do the shopping?" Snape said indifferently.
Overwhelming cheers rang out in the stadium again. Gryffindor attacked quickly, successfully scoring a goal, tying the score and making the situation even more anxious.