Standing on the bustling High Street of Hogsmeade Village, Adam takes a moment to drink in the lively atmosphere. Leaves and moss clings to the rooftops of the quaint, crooked buildings, and the smell of freshly baked pastries wafts from Honeydukes, mingling with the sunny day. Students chatter excitedly as they dart between shops, their laughter carrying over the cobblestone streets.
“Come on, Hermione, we have to try some butterbeer!” Ron exclaims, practically bouncing with enthusiasm as he tugs at Hermione’s sleeve.
“Ron, calm down!” Hermione protests, huffing as she tries to pull free. “We’re going! Stop dragging me!”
Adam chuckles at their banter, stepping between them to ease the tension.“Relax, Ron. Let’s head to one of my family’s pubs. The butterbeer will be cheaper for us there, and it’s better than the other pubs.”
Ron’s face lights up at the prospect. “Now that’s what I love about you, Adam. Always looking out for your mates!”
Adam exchanges an amused glance with Hermione, who simply shakes her head but doesn’t argue. Leading the way, Adam guides them through the crowded street to the familiar sight of the Three Broomsticks Inn. The pub, with its distinctive hanging sign and warm, golden light spilling through its windows, exudes a welcoming charm.
As they step inside, the scent of roasted nuts and butterbeer envelops them, and the hum of cheerful conversation fills the air. Madam Rosmerta, the vivacious manager, spots Adam almost immediately and waves him over with a broad smile.
“Young Master Morgan!” she calls warmly, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the hearth. “Right this way. I’ve got the best seat in the house saved just for you.”
Adam thanks her with a polite nod, and the group follows her to a cozy table near the crackling fireplace. The heat is a welcome contrast to the cold outside, and Adam notices Ron visibly relaxing as he sinks into his chair.
Ron wastes no time, eagerly flagging down a passing waiter. “Three butterbeers and some snacks, please!”
The drinks arrive moments later, the mugs steaming and foaming at the brim. Adam wraps his hands around his butterbeer, savoring its warmth as he takes a sip. The rich, buttery flavor is just as satisfying as he remembers, a perfect antidote for the current season.
Hermione sighs contentedly after her first sip, leaning back in her chair. “Finally, a proper break from classes. Honestly, juggling all these electives is starting to take its toll.”
“I told you,” Adam says with a smirk. “You didn’t have to take every elective. It’s only been a week, and you’re already overwhelmed.”
Ron nods in agreement, gesturing with his mug. “Exactly. I’m only doing two, and I already regret those. Who needs Muggle Studies when we’ve got Hermione to explain everything?”
They all laugh, the tension melting away as they enjoy their drinks and the comfortable ambiance of the pub. After a second round of butterbeer, Hermione sets her empty mug down with a determined expression.
“I need to pick up a few things from the wizarding shop across the street,” she announces, standing and slinging her bag over her shoulder.
Ron leans back in his chair, clearly not planning to move. “You go ahead. Fred and George told me to wait here—they’ve got some sort of prank planned for the sixth-years, and they might need my help.”
Adam grins knowingly. “Of course they do. Alright, Hermione, take this.” He pulls a sleek black card from his pocket, its surface gleaming with intricate gold runes, and hands it to her.
Hermione’s eyebrows raise as she examines the card, clearly impressed. “What is this?”
“A family card,” Adam explains casually. “It’ll get you a discount at few particular shops."
Hermione smiles gratefully. “Thanks, Adam!” She tucks the card safely into her bag and heads for the door, waving at them as she steps out into the bustling street.
Later Adam says, “I’ll be back in a few hours; I’ve got some work to do.” He waves goodbye to Ron, who nods in response.
Now alone, Adam walks further along the High Street, his steps steady as he moves away from the lively buzz of the village center. The air grows quieter the farther he goes, the cheerful chatter of students fading into the background. He stops in front of a small, unassuming building nestled between two larger, more eye-catching shops. Its weathered wooden sign creaks faintly in the breeze, but there’s no name to indicate what lies within. The cozy, nondescript exterior gives it an air of secrecy, the kind of place most people wouldn’t spare a second glance unless they knew exactly what they were looking for.
Adam pushes the door open, the bell above it chiming softly. Inside, the room is dimly lit, the warm glow of a single lantern casting shadows across the walls lined with shelves of peculiar objects. Behind the counter stands an older man with a stern yet respectful demeanor, his sharp eyes immediately locking onto Adam.
“Master Adam,” the man greets him with a small bow. His voice carries a quiet authority, tempered with reverence. “Everything has been arranged. They’re waiting inside.”
Adam nods once, his expression unreadable. “Good.” Without another word, he strides toward a door at the back of the shop, his hand brushing lightly against the aged wood before pushing it open.
The room beyond is larger than the modest exterior suggests, illuminated by an enchanted chandelier that bathes the space in a soft, golden light. Twenty people are seated around a long oak table, their faces turning toward him as he enters. The group consists of twelve men and eight women, a diverse assembly of ages and backgrounds. At the sight of Adam, they rise to their feet almost in unison, their expressions a mix of curiosity, respect, and perhaps a hint of apprehension.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Adam steps forward, his movements deliberate and measured, his presence commanding the room. “Sit down,” he says, his tone calm but leaving no room for debate.
The group obeys instantly, the soft scrape of chairs filling the air as they return to their seats. Adam stands at the head of the table, his hands resting lightly on its surface as he surveys them.
“I’ve hired you for two primary tasks,” he begins, his voice steady and clear. “First, you will focus on rescuing magical beasts that are being abused or mistreated. Use your connections and resources to locate them, ensure their safety, and provide them with the care they need. Second, you will act as my eyes and ears, gathering information—anything significant happening in the wizarding world, both past and present. You’ll determine among yourselves which role suits you best, based on your skills and expertise.”
He gestures around the room, indicating their surroundings. “This building will serve as your headquarters for now. As we grow and expand our operations, I intend to recruit more people.”
Adam pauses, letting the weight of his words sink in. The room is silent, the group hanging on his every word. Finally, he speaks again, his gaze sweeping across the table. “If you have questions or concerns, now is the time to speak.”
He straightens, his commanding presence unwavering, as he waits for their responses.
One man, his hair streaked with gray at the temples and his weathered hands resting on the table, raised a cautious hand. “Is it true we’ll be working for you directly? Or is there someone above you?” His voice was calm but probing, as though testing the waters.
Adam chuckled softly, the corners of his lips curling into an easy smile. “You’ll report to me and me alone. Don’t let my age fool you. I’m more than capable of running this operation.” His tone turned slightly firmer, though still measured. “The only thing you need to focus on is doing your job well. As for compensation, your current salary is standard, but those who go above and beyond will earn incentives. Excellence will always be rewarded here.”
His words had the desired effect. The man nodded in approval, and murmurs of agreement rippled through the room. The group exchanged pleased glances, their initial unease melting into determination. When no one else raised their hand, Adam took that as a sign to move forward.
For the next hour, Adam met with each person individually in the adjoining room. He used Legilimency to quietly probe their minds, confirming their backgrounds and verifying their intentions. Although each member had already undergone rigorous vetting, Adam trusted no one completely without his own examination. The stakes were too high to risk infiltration by Death Eaters or other dark organizations. He was thorough but discreet, ensuring his actions went unnoticed by those unaware of Legilimency’s subtlety.
Once the last meeting was done, Adam returned to the front counter, where the older man awaited him patiently.
“Recruit more people as needed,” Adam instructed, his voice steady. “Focus on reliability and skill. Funds are not an issue—use as much as you need to build a team we can trust. And I want your son managing this group. I know you’ve trained him well. He’s more than capable.”
The man’s chest swelled slightly with pride, though his expression remained professional. “Understood, Master Adam. My son will oversee the team and ensure everything runs smoothly.”
Adam gave a satisfied nod, his confidence in the old man evident. Without further discussion, he stepped outside into the brisk Hogsmeade air and began his journey back to the Three Broomsticks Inn.
Upon entering the cozy pub the lively chatter of students greeted him. His gaze quickly found Ron seated with Fred and George at a table near the window. The twins were laughing uproariously, their exaggerated gestures suggesting another one of their grand schemes. Hermione, seated nearby, had her nose buried in a book, clearly tuning out the twins’ antics.
Fred and George noticed Adam’s arrival almost instantly. They waved him over enthusiastically, grinning from ear to ear. “Adam! Finally!” Fred exclaimed, patting the empty chair beside him.
“So, it’s true then?” George asked, his eyes glinting with excitement. “This pub really belongs to your family?”
Adam nodded, a small smile playing on his lips.
Fred leaned forward, his grin widening mischievously. “Perfect! Because we’ve got a business plan. Want to hear it?”
Adam smirked, crossing his arms as he sat down. “Go ahead.”
The twins exchanged a conspiratorial glance, their identical smirks growing wider. “Oh, you’re going to love this,” George said with a wink.
George leaned forward eagerly, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “We want to open a joke shop in Diagon Alley. We’ve even got a name picked out—Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. We’ve been planning it for ages, but we need more funds to get started.”
Fred nodded enthusiastically, his face alight with determination. “We’ve got ideas for products no one’s ever seen before—stuff that’ll make Zonko’s look like a corner shop. The problem is, we’re short on capital to really get it going.”
Without a word, Adam reached into his enchanted bag, his expression calm and unreadable. He pulled out a small, unassuming pouch and placed it on the table in front of Fred.
The twins exchanged puzzled glances before Fred tentatively picked up the pouch and loosened the drawstring. The moment he peeked inside, his eyes widened comically. He reached in and pulled out several gleaming Galleons, the gold catching the light and reflecting its brilliance across the table.
Fred’s jaw dropped. “This… this is a lot of gold.”
George, equally stunned, leaned over to get a better look. Ron and Hermione, who had been quietly listening, froze mid-sip, their expressions mirroring the twins’ shock.
“How much is in here?” George asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might make the gold vanish.
Adam leaned in slightly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. He whispered just loud enough for the group to hear, “About 50,000 Galleons.”
Fred nearly dropped the pouch, his hands trembling slightly. “We… we only needed 1,000!”
Adam waved off their protests with a casual flick of his hand. “Think of it as an investment. I believe in your vision, and I treat my friends’ family like my own. Don’t worry about it.”
George looked like he might pass out. “This is still too much… Adam, we can’t—”
“No take-backs,” Adam interrupted firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Fred sat back in his chair, still clutching the pouch like it might disappear at any moment. George, for once at a loss for words, simply stared at Adam in awe.
It was Hermione who finally broke the silence, her voice gentle but resolute. “Keep it, you two. It’s a gift—and an opportunity. Adam clearly believes in you. Don’t waste it.”
Ron, still staring at the pouch, finally shook himself out of his stupor. “Maybe you should rename the shop Adam’s Wizard Wheezes!” he quipped, a crooked grin spreading across his face.
The joke broke the tension, and everyone burst into laughter. Fred and George joined in, though their expressions were still tinged with disbelief.
Adam, shaking his head, raised his butterbeer mug. “I like the original name better—it has heart. Besides, this is your dream, not mine.”
With a wave, Adam called for another round of butterbeer and some snacks. He raised his mug higher, his voice steady and confident. “Here’s to the future of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes! May it become the most successful joke shop in wizarding history. Cheers!”