It was around the evening when we finally finished placing the stakes around the property. At the end of it, we took a short rest to tidy ourselves before continuing to our next 'agenda,' which is visiting one of the family's shops located in Diagon Alley. To travel there, we needn't take a Knight Bus to go to Diagon Alley and walk there, nor apparate to the shop itself. Instead, we would be using a specific floo network that only connects from Whitlock Manor to the shops. The network itself, of course, doesn't open every day. Instead, it is activated from the manor and deactivated once it's no longer in use. So, with the green flames of the floo powder enveloping me, I was quickly transported to one of the network's endpoints, and the scene swiftly changed.

With a small step, I removed myself from the fireplace used for the network and looked at the room I was in. It was a rather fancy-looking office, though not with much actual furniture in it – just some items and antique artifacts that have been made in this very place. There was a desk in the corner of the room with a medium-sized still painting just on the wall behind it. It was of me, standing alone in a dark background.

Not a second later, the room was filled with one more person as Fleur passed through the network. She looked quite surprised at the room she was in, seemingly ignoring me and walking towards the artifacts that were displayed all around.

"Very intricate runesmith…" she murmured to herself, examining the items though not touching them, as she should.

"My grandfather probably made that," I said. "Or maybe it's my father's? I can't remember."

"Either way, it is really well-made," she further commented before walking away to examine the other items. Not long, however, she noticed the painting on the wall and made a funny face, scrunching up her expression as if she had just tasted something sour. "Is that you?"

I just shrugged at her question. "Who else?"

"You look miserable in that," she stated, walking towards the desk. "Maybe we should replace it?"

"To a painting of you, I suppose?" I suggested. "This office will be yours for the next year or so."

"Really? I will work 'ere?" she raised her brow in curiosity. "Well, a painting with both of us in it sounds more appealing."

"Then we'll have to add 'find a painter' to the list of things to do this summer," I hummed. "You can make yourself comfortable here later; we need to find the one who runs this place…"

And with that, I walked towards the exit door of the room, opening it towards the main area of the building. The area itself is wholly different from the office we were just in. If the office has this comfortable and homey feeling, the actual shop feels more like a fancy museum. The floor is carpeted in bright red and gold, the items sold here are placed in glass cases gilded with gold, and a silver chandelier lights up this place. This 'aesthetic' fits right into Fleur's liking, as she's starting to be bitter about the rather depressing and gloomy British architectural and decorative style.

"This is… welcoming," I could hear Fleur whispering to herself, seemingly having a nostalgic smile on her face.

"It's just the display section of the shop," I said. "This place is more of a museum, though all things displayed here can be bought. They're expensive, though. It's mostly runecrafts; locksmithing is not really as sophisticated in the eyes of the wizarding community compared to runes, so the price reflects that of public opinion."

"You know, I 'ave read a couple of letters being sent to the shops," Fleur stated. "Asking when the family is going to take up commissions again…"

"Well, I'm not really in the position to do so at the moment, obviously," I said, rolling my eyes. "But I must admit, the business is hurting because of that."

"Perhaps you could tutor me?"

"Remind me again who is the one in school and who is the one who isn't?" 

"It is not as if my runecraft skills are not better than yours," she huffed. "It is a matter of customer preference. And you, as a member of the family, must know what kind of preference your customers used to 'ave."

"Not really," I murmured. "The last time my family took up commissions was during my father's time, and I could barely remember his face when he died, let alone customers."

Fleur's face instantly faltered. "I…"

Seeing her face, I chuckled, giving the biggest smirk I've made today. "Kidding, of course. My father kept a book to log the commissions; surely we can find something there."

While her face has recovered somewhat, she still looks a bit guilty. She looked quite excited about working here, that she forgot I haven't really seen how my father does his business here.

Nothing I could do about, sadly.

"Let's just find Merton…"

With slow steps, Fleur and I walked through the carpets while also looking around the shop. She is definitely pleased with the rather lavish-looking decoration, reminding her of Beauxbatons perhaps, or just home in general…

After a couple of minutes of looking around, we finally arrived at the corridor where there was a set of staircases leading downstairs, made of white marble and seeming to be decorated with intricate runes and carvings, and a split path going to the right and to the left. Those paths lead to a couple of rooms where the watcher of the place stays and the house elves' rooms. Which only leaves to go down towards the ground floor.

Arriving at the foot of the stairs, we arrived at the actual entrance of the shop, where a counter was placed just between the two staircases. There was a big sign near the counter, with the sentence "NOT ACCEPTING RUNECRAFT COMMISSIONS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE" written on it.

"He's… not here," I murmured. Merton seems to be missing from his post…

Suddenly, I could hear someone talking in the room on the left side of the staircase, where the manager would typically talk to the clients and customers about what type of commissions they wanted.

Thinking that he's doing exactly that, I walked towards it, to see if I'm right. When I stood near the door, from the small window, I could see that he was talking to someone, though I couldn't quite see who it was. So, I knocked on the door, and a couple of seconds later, it opened, revealing the watcher of the place, Mr. Merton Sterling. He was a middle-aged man wearing black and white formal wizard clothing – yes, it looks similar to those ugly robes that I wore last year…

"Sire, you've arrived early," exclaimed Merton in surprise. "I had thought that you would come—"

I sighed at his words. Early my arse. "It's seven in the evening already, Merton. I'm late, not early."

"Merlin…" Merton massaged the bridge of his nose. "My apologies, I have been preoccupied by an unwanted visitor this evening."

"Visitor?" I raised my brow. Turning away from Merton, I took a look at who is the 'guest' that he's speaking of. And it turns out, it's someone I know, alright…

"Professor Lupin?"

Remus Lupin stood from his seat with a smile and walked towards me. "Now, now, Mr. Whitlock, I'm not your professor anymore."

"He's been asking for a job," Merton stated calmly. "He's been coming here every day since last week. I kept refusing him because we don't have an opening, but… He's quite a stubborn one."

Last week? That's when I sent my reply to the— oh.

"Well, truthfully, I've asked every single shop in Diagon Alley," the professor chuckled nervously. "Your shop is the last one, so I'm hoping that I can get some sort of job. If you want, I will leave. I don't want to bother you any longer."

"That's not what you did during the past week…" Merton murmured.

I'm probably not going to get away with this… Dumbledore will probably send another one, more discreetly next time…

So I just sighed. "Well, Profes– Mr. Lupin, could you please wait here for a moment? I need to talk to Merton for a quick minute."

Lupin just raised his hands. "I'm the one who's bothering you here, so go ahead."

“Thank you.”

As if on cue, Merton swiftly closed the door to the room, leaving Lupin within it. Meanwhile, the three of us strolled towards the counter, where Merton went to the opposite side, seemingly searching for something.

“I assume this is Mistress Delacour?” Merton smiled at Fleur, taking out a book and placing it on the counter. “Forgive my bluntness, but… do you really possess Veela blood?”

“I do,” she nodded. “I ‘ope that is not an issue?”

“Not at all. Collaborating with the sire's family has imparted numerous lessons upon me.” Merton chuckled. “Including maintaining control over my thoughts and emotions.”

“Right, Merton, she will be working here, at least for the summer.” I interjected, resting my hand on the counter.

Merton raised his eyebrow. “Excuse me, sire, but… to undertake what, precisely? We already have sufficient staff with the house elves.”

“Well, initially you can instruct her in your crafts, assign her administrative tasks, and also handle my portion of paperwork.” I said. “I am also contemplating the idea of opening runecraft commissions; we will share the workload.”

“Runecraft commissions? Again, my apologies, but…”

“It's alright, Merton, we'll proceed gradually.”

“Oh, it's not the mistress's skill that I doubt, sire, considering she has graduated.” Merton smiled. “It's your own. How have you been practicing?”

“It has been going well.” I sighed, gazing at the book on the counter. “What is this?”

“A logbook for locksmithing commissions.” Merton responded. “The demand has tripled compared to last year's summer requests.”

“Rightfully so, I think.” Fleur said, opening the book and examining the list. “The news about You-Know-Who's return, even though just rumors and denied by the Ministry, still creates fear among wizards and witches. They seek extra protection to ease their concerns.”

Merton glanced at her, raising his eyebrow. “Indeed,” he murmured. “However, haven't you perused the Prophet, sire, mistress?”

“What?” I asked, and I realized that I hadn't read the newspaper in a fortnight or so.

“They have labeled you all as liars.” Merton said. “They claimed that you, sire, disrupted an international event focused on cooperation.”

Predictable... “You all, as in…?”

“Both of you, Mr. Dumbledore, Mr. Potter,” he stated. “And Mr. Diggory.”

“Diggory as well?” I frowned.

“He provided accounts of Crouch Jr.'s statements in the maze and the potential involvement of the Dark Lord. Consequently, the Prophet has branded him a liar too.” Merton explained. “Fudge is in damage control mode, especially since two Death Eaters linked to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named have escaped Azkaban.”

“‘E wants to take the ‘eat off of ‘im.” Fleur mumbled, a scowl gradually appearing.

“Precisely.” Merton hummed.

Again, predictable, but now the targets are slightly more dispersed, and likely less strong slanders, as none of us have asserted that Voldemort has genuinely returned, merely his involvement in the matter…

“What’s happened to Diggory?” I inquired.

“Unfortunately, I do not know,” Merton shook his head. “Yet, I imagine a recent graduate like him will struggle to secure a job while the slander is on air. Even his father will probably face backlash within the Ministry.”

“Perhaps you could call him here.” I proposed. “Diggory, I mean. Offer him a position?”

Merton simply chuckled. “As I mentioned, sire, no vacancies are available.”

“We do now.” I shrugged. “Guards. Considering my actions last term, it's likely I've vexed some Dark Lord loyalists… eager to infiltrate some of my properties… not that they could breach the protective enchantments, but… vigilance is always appreciated.”

Merton sighed. “Very well, I suppose we must also seek guards for the other shops.”

“Well, you and Fleur could discuss that.” I smiled, patting Fleur's shoulder as I moved away from them. “While I converse with my dear old professor…”