Conflicts between boys came quickly and went just as quickly.
Especially when Basil possessed the regal bearing of a king from British legend.
A little boy like Ron simply could not hold his ground against it.
So unlike yesterday's conflict with Harry, which Basil had forgotten after questioning Professor McGonagall,
this tiny conflict today
ended the moment Basil glared at Ron.
"My fault. If Fanta really wanted to eat Scabbers, he would have done it already."
"Mm." Ron rubbed his stomach, walked to the bedside, and picked up a Chocolate Frog from the cabinet. Its wrapper was half-open, and it was no longer very lively. "Want one? It's left over from the train yesterday."
"No." Basil felt a little sick.
Although he had cleaned off the remaining Scabbers sauce with Scourgify, he still could not accept it psychologically.
"Let's go see Harry. I asked where the school hospital was yesterday."
That was a lie!
In reality, he had only just found the school hospital on the second floor of the Hogwarts in his mind.
"Okay." Ron swallowed the Chocolate Frog in one bite and nodded.
Had you ever seen the Gryffindor common room at six in the morning?
Percy often had.
The sun rising earlier in the Scottish Highlands than elsewhere shone through the round windows and fell upon the crimson tapestries.
At this hour, the witch who always had her back to them, dressed in a long crimson robe, holding her hat behind her and looking down at the black cat sitting by her feet, would reveal her true face.
The young Professor McGonagall.
He saw scenes like this almost every day.
As a Gryffindor prefect, he had to rise early each morning to update the notice board beside the round opening.
He posted school notices, all sorts of advertisements and posters, and more upon it.
Not to mention that today was the day those first-year students would begin the first class of their lives.
He needed to hand out the timetables in his hands to every new student.
Thinking this, he used a Sticking Charm to fasten a notice titled "Prohibited Items in the Castle" to the board.
The moment Ron and Basil entered the common room, they saw this scene.
Percy was yawning, sprawled carelessly in his seat as he waved his wand.
Ron's expression was complicated, as though he had seen something that embarrassed him.
Yet he was ashamed of himself.
He had only seen the glory of being a prefect, without noticing the hardship behind it.
Percy saw them as well.
He hurriedly sat upright and tidied his appearance.
"You're up so early?"
Basil said, "We're going to see Harry. He didn't come back last night. He's still in the school hospital."
At that moment, Ron spoke. "It's my first time seeing you this tired."
"Is being a prefect really this hard?"
"Is power really that important?"
Percy froze.
He had not expected Ron to ask such profound questions.
Then he nodded without hesitation. "It is important. And this isn't hardship. It is the headmaster and teachers valuing me."
"The fruits of power are not bitter. On the contrary, they are incredibly sweet."
"Whenever I think about someone valuing me, and how this experience will help me find a job after graduation, I get tremendously excited. I'm happy!"
He looked at Basil. "I can see your ambition from that chart of yours."
"The best job in the world is working at the Ministry of Magic."
"It controls every aspect of British wizards' lives, everything they have!
"Money, honor, respectability."
"Everything you can think of can be gained there."
His expression darkened. "As long as you do not become like our father. Content with mediocrity, sacrificing your future for some so-called dream."
"Content to remain in the undignified, unrespected, poorly paid position of Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."
He looked solemnly at Ron. "Ronnie, do you know? Have you ever seen Dad's workplace?"
"On the second floor of the Ministry of Magic, at the end of the corridor, opposite the broom closet. It is even smaller than the broom closet. As the head, he has only one subordinate. Their two desks are squeezed inside and take up the entire space. It is hard even to stand up and stretch."
"File cabinets line the walls around the desks, stuffed so full that the papers nearly spill out. Bundles of documents are piled precariously atop the cabinets as well."
"There is pitifully little personal space. The only usable bit of wall is covered with things Dad is fond of: several car advertisements, one showing a dismantled engine; two illustrations of letterboxes cut from Muggle children's books; and a diagram explaining how to install an electrical socket. Beside the overflowing in-tray on his desk is a family photograph of all of us."
Percy's voice was low. Even after so many years, he still remembered every detail of that office's layout perfectly.
Ron lowered his head, his face turning as red as a monkey's backside.
Basil was full of confusion.
Their family knew the Ministry of Magic's job structure quite well.
Even before his memories awakened, when he spent all day picking mushrooms, he had absorbed such knowledge by exposure.
"Your father's position is Head, right? And the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office is an independent department, subordinate to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
Percy nodded. "Is there something wrong with that?"
Basil asked tentatively, "Where does all your knowledge of the Ministry of Magic come from?"
Percy composed himself.
He was not Ron. He sharply caught the implication in Basil's words.
Could his father's work actually be something impressive?
"My father, and that chart of yours. I have not looked into anything else in detail. I've been busy studying, taking twelve classes while serving as a prefect."
Basil drew a deep breath.
"Alright, I'm going to say something revolutionary. Don't be too surprised."
"The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is not comparable to the heads of other departments. And your father's office is independent."
"To some extent, as long as your father is unwilling, neither the Minister for Magic nor the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement can order him around."
"Judging by the department's name, the laws concerning Muggle artifacts are probably drafted only by your father."
"Even laws related to Muggles could be written under your father's leadership, if he wanted to."
Percy was still somewhat doubtful. "No one can control him, that is certainly good. But Muggles? What profit is there in that?"
"Work related to Muggles. Although discriminating against Muggles is politically incorrect, no wizard would think highly of it."
Basil was utterly exasperated. "Are you insane? Do you know the global population statistics for 1991? Do you know how many Muggles there are? 5.383 billion!"
"There are 57.4249 million Muggles in Britain alone!"
"And there are only four thousand wizards in all of Britain!"
"Don't you understand? The Muggle World is an enormous market!"
"And the laws in this area are drafted and led by your father."
"Especially now. They say there are protective laws, but in reality, every aspect of the Muggle World has already infiltrated the wizarding world."
"Like Ron's trainers, or the suits Fudge and other Ministry higher-ups like to wear!"
"Even our wizard robes, the kind we usually wear, could easily be mass-produced in a Muggle World factory. Or we could buy the fabric and make them ourselves!"
"And Magic Cameras. Aside from the spells cast on them and the developing potion, they are no different from Muggle cameras. You could buy them in the Muggle World and modify them. There is no need to buy a finished product for 100 Galleons from Vizeak's Magical Supplies."
"Let me do the math for you. Based on the current exchange rate, five pounds equals one Galleon."
"Cameras in the Muggle World are far more advanced than those in the magical world. They only cost around three hundred pounds, which is just sixty Galleons. Developing potion costs one Sickle per bottle. The spell for a Magic Camera is not difficult either. You can learn it yourself."
"For only sixty Galleons and one Sickle, you can get a Magic Camera."
"And my exchange rate is the official Gringotts rate. Ordinary Muggle families have a limit on how many Galleons they can exchange for. On the black market, forget five pounds for one Galleon. Some people would even trade forty pounds for one Galleon."
Ron asked, "Would anyone trade at fifty pounds?"
He had already begun imagining exchanging the few Sickles in his hand for pounds, then going to the Muggle World to buy cloth, stationery, and other goods before returning to the magical world to sell them.
Basil said, "Twenty Galleons weigh about a tenth of a kilogram, and gold costs roughly ten thousand pounds per kilogram, so one Galleon is worth around fifty pounds."
"If it really reached fifty, or even higher, wouldn't people just exchange it for gold and take it to Gringotts?"
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