Harry Potter and the Hidden Treasure (Volume 3)

Chapter 501 Chaos At The Ministry Of Magic

On the previous night, Percy returned to the Burrow unusually early. He appeared weary but remarkably handsome.

"It has been utter chaos," Percy informed them. "I've been putting out fires for a week. People keep sending Howler Letters, and of course, if you don't open a Howler Letter immediately, it explodes. I have burn marks all over my desk, and my best quill was reduced to ashes."

"Why are they sending all those Howler Letters?" inquired Ginny, who was sorting her copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi with Magical Tape on the carpet in front of the fire.

"Complaining about security at the Quidditch World Cup, of course," Percy replied. "They want compensation for their damaged property. Mundungus Fletcher submitted a list of medical expenses of 500 Galleons, and also claimed his tent was destroyed and asked us to compensate him with a twelve-room tent with a jacuzzi. But I know all about him. He wasn't actually injured at all and spent the night under a patched-up tent."

That night, as the vampires launched an attack in the stadium, the camp was also attacked.

Many people suffered, especially the shops near Crouch's, which was the most affected area.

The vampires probably thought Barty Crouch Jr. was hiding in the shop, so they raided the area. Of course, they found nothing, but they caused significant losses to the wizards.

In fact, to attend the Quidditch World Cup, the wizards had put many valuable things in their shops.

Mrs. Weasley brought various drinks for everyone and glanced at her grandfather clock in the corner.

It was a magical clock. It was completely useless if you wanted to know the time, but otherwise very informative.

It had nine golden hands, each engraved with a Weasley family member's name.

There were no numbers around the face, but descriptions of where each family member might be. "At home," "at school," and "at work" were there, as well as "traveling," "lost," "in hospital," "in prison," and so on.

In the position where the number twelve would be on a regular clock, it read "mortal peril."

Although this clock seemed quite ordinary, it was an incredibly rare magical item of the highest quality.

It had been passed down through the Weasley family. No matter how impoverished they were, the Pure-Blood wizarding family kept some treasures tucked away.

This magical clock was one of those treasures. It could be used as long as a hand representing a family member was in place.

Like the Marauder's Map, its functioning principle involved the magic of names.

This was a branch of magic very unpopular and profound, accessible only to powerful and knowledgeable wizards.

For example, Voldemort placed a Taboo Curse on his name that allowed his Death Eaters to instantly locate anyone who mentioned it aloud in public, destroying simple surrounding defensive magic. The Death Eaters would arrive immediately. Therefore, everyone was very afraid, refrained from saying his name, and referred to him as "You-Know-Who."

This was another extreme use of name magic, likely achievable only by a truly powerful dark wizard.

Overall, this aspect was highly rare, and not much could be found about it in magical books.

Every time she saw this clock, she felt the urge to open it and take a look at its inner workings.

Eight of the clock hands currently pointed to "at home," but Mr. Weasley's, the longest one, still pointed to "at work."

Mrs. Weasley sighed and said sadly, "Your father hasn't had to go to the office on weekends since the times of You-Know-Who. They are making him work too much. Dinner will be ruined if he doesn't get home soon."

"Well, Father feels he has to make up for his error in the match, doesn't he?" Percy remarked. "To be frank, it was a bit reckless to make a public statement without consulting his department head first..."

"Don't you dare blame your father for what that odious Skeeter woman wrote!" Mrs. Weasley snapped instantly.

"If Dad hadn't said anything, old Rita would have simply mentioned how shameful it was that no one from the Ministry had commented," said Bill, who was playing chess with Ron. "Rita Skeeter never makes anyone look good. Remember when she interviewed all the Curse Breakers at Gringotts once, and called me 'a long-haired fool'?"

"Well, it's a bit long, dear," Mrs. Weasley said gently. "If only you'd let me..."

"No, Mum!"

The rain lashed against the window of the lounge, and Evan sat by the fire studying the ancient spellbook.

Not far from him, Hermione was engrossed in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4.

Charlie was mending a flameproof balaclava, Harry was polishing his Firebolt, and Hermione's broomstick maintenance kit gifted to him on his thirteenth birthday lay open at his feet.

Fred and George sat in a secluded corner, pens in hand, whispering to each other; their heads bent over a piece of parchment.

"What are you two up to?" Mrs. Weasley said sharply, her gaze fixed on the twins.

"Just chores," Fred said vaguely.

"Don't talk nonsense, you're still on vacation," Mrs. Weasley retorted.

"Yes, we just want a good start!" George said.

"Aren't you thinking of relaunching Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, by any chance?" Mrs. Weasley asked astutely.

"Come on, Mum!" Fred said, looking at her with a pained expression. "If the Hogwarts Express crashed tomorrow, and George and I died. How would you feel knowing that the last thing we heard from you was an unfounded accusation?"

Everyone laughed, even Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh, your father's coming!" she suddenly said, looking at the clock again.

Mr. Weasley's hand had suddenly turned from "work" to "travel".

In an instant, it stopped at "home" alongside the others, and they heard him calling from the kitchen.

"I'm coming, Arthur!" called Mrs. Weasley, hurrying out of the room.

A few moments later, Mr. Weasley entered the warm lounge carrying his dinner on a tray. He looked completely exhausted.

"Well, things have really hit the fan," he told Mrs. Weasley as he sat in an armchair near the hearth and absentmindedly toyed with his somewhat wilted cauliflower. "Rita Skeeter has been snooping around all week, looking for more Ministry slip-ups to report. And now she's found out about poor Bertha's disappearance, so that'll be the headline in tomorrow's Daily Prophet. I told Bagman he should have sent someone to look for her a long time ago."

Days ago, the chief editor of the Daily Prophet sent Evan a letter.

The letter mentioned that Rita Skeeter wanted to interview him, but Evan didn't give her the opportunity and declined directly.

He didn't want to be portrayed as a young monster with bad habits, or the youngest living dark wizard or something of the sort.

This woman had a habit of spreading rumors to attract public attention. It was better for Evan to stay away from her.

Of course, if Rita Skeeter provoked him, Evan wouldn't be kind. He knew her game...