First-Day Breakfast

When Harry opened his eyes, it was already the next morning.

He sat up and looked at the others in the dormitory, most of whom were already up. Harry's awakening had slowed their movements.

Seamus quickly dressed and left the dormitory without even glancing at Harry. Dean gave Harry a concerned look but said nothing and quickly followed Seamus out of the dormitory.

"I heard it from Fred and the others—" Ron quietly slipped off the bed, leaned against Harry's headboard, and said to Harry, who was still looking down as if half asleep, "Don't worry about last night. Seamus wouldn't really tell Professor McGonagall. It was just a misunderstanding, an accident. We talked about it last night."

Harry glanced up at Ron, said nothing, and simply nodded. Even a good night's sleep couldn't bring him any better spirits. His heart was like a yellow leaf blown away by the autumn wind, slowly withering away. Harry was surprised to find that he no longer cared about using magic to knock Seamus away yesterday, and even when Ron mentioned it, he felt nothing.

He simply felt nothing, nothing about the whole thing, let alone any feelings of annoyance, anger, or regret. Harry was even numb to Ron's well-intentioned comfort. What was he doing? Where was he going next? These questions seemed like meaningless greetings swirling around in his head.

"Alright, I get it, no need to comfort me, Ron." Interrupting Ron's rambling, Harry put on his socks and clothes, and donned his robes, under the astonished gaze of his best friend.

"I was indeed very angry yesterday—" he explained calmly, "But I know I'm not a liar, a show-off, a fraud. I know that."

Ron looked at Harry, hesitant to speak, wanting to point out that his shirt collar wasn't properly aligned, making him look sloppy as if he hadn't groomed himself at all. But after saying that, Harry actually planned to leave like that.

"What happened?" Harry and Ron rushed off to breakfast, and just as they reached the common room, Hermione caught up from behind. "Harry, you look terrible—oh my goodness!"

Hermione stared in surprise at the Gryffindor Common Room bulletin board, where a large new notice had been posted. It was less of a notice and more of a blatant plea, with even the ink slightly smudged, as if the writer's hand had been trembling.

--

Gryffindor Bulletin Board---

Money! Money! Money! We need money!

You may have heard of the Weasley Twins, or know that we're always humorous and full of quirky ideas, but believe me, this time we're not joking.

We need jobs! We need money!

If you have any dirty or strenuous work to do, no matter how lowly, how vulgar, or how disgusting, we're willing to do it as long as you're willing to pay!

You think cleaning toilets is too dirty? We don't!

You don't want to clean up the beasts' droppings in the Forbidden Forest? We do!

Want to add some special "ingredients" to someone's potion? Don't worry, we guarantee professionalism and secrecy!

Even... you need someone to take the blame for you? We're willing! As long as the price is right, we can take the blame, get scolded, and even be punished by being locked up!

Please contact us! We welcome any job! We're willing to do anything to earn money!

--Fred Weasley & George Weasley

P. S. If you really can't find a job for us, please consider making a donation, even just a Knut, we would be extremely grateful!

--

The bulletin board has ended.

Hermione's fingers trembled slightly with anger as she ripped the notice down, her eyes filled with disbelief, shock, and fury.

"They're insane." She gritted her teeth, her face ashen as if she were looking at something nauseating. "This isn't like them... this is just too—too—" She couldn't find the right words to describe it.

She looked up, glaring angrily at Ron: "We need to talk to them, Ron."

Ron's face turned pale instantly. He swallowed hard and stammered, "W-why?"

"Because we're the Prefect!" Hermione roared, almost waving the notice forcefully. "It's our job to stop this! They've completely lost their minds!"

Harry stood to the side, silently watching the scene, a frown creeping onto his face. Indeed, this wasn't like Fred and George at all. While they were always keen on playing pranks and finding ways to make money, they had never been the type to disregard their dignity and use any means necessary. Where was their self-respect? Where was their sense of humor?

Harry remembered what Ron had mentioned earlier— Arthur Weasley had been dismissed from the Ministry of Magic and even fined an exorbitant amount, causing the family's situation to plummet, making even basic necessities like food and clothing a problem. Mrs. Weasley had even had to sell valuables to make ends meet.

So they've fallen so low?

Harry clenched his fists and couldn't help but look at Ron. His friend had his head down, his face flushed, and his fingers were gripping the hem of his robes tightly, looking like he wanted to find a hole to crawl into.

Hermione was still grumbling indignantly, "I simply can't believe they would actually do such... such despicable things! Just for a few Galleon?"

Ron suddenly looked up, glaring at her fiercely, a flash of anger in his eyes. "A few Galleon? Hermione, you have no idea what money means to our family." His tone was thick with self-mockery. "You know what? When the school year's book list came out, Mom cried all night. She didn't know how to raise money to buy Ginny new textbooks."

Hermione was speechless. She opened her mouth, and the anger on her face gradually turned into a trace of guilt.

Ron took a deep breath and said in a low voice, "Do you think they want to do this? They're prouder than anyone else, but they have no other choice."

Harry stared silently at the notice that Hermione had torn down in his hand, his heart filled with mixed emotions.

The Weasley Twins, the mischievous duo who always brought joy, are now willing to sell their dignity for a few Galleon?

At that moment, he finally realized what poverty was—it wasn't just about having an empty wallet or wearing old clothes, but about forcing a person to lower their head, abandon their pride, and even be willing to do anything to earn a little money.

Harry closed his eyes, a dull ache in his heart. Although he was an orphan, he was a rich kid; his parents had left him a large fortune, so he had always treated money like dirt. He despised those who thought themselves superior just because they had some money, like Malfoy and his ilk, unaware that they had simply learned the harsh realities of life earlier than him.

Power, money, and authority—these worldly things he had previously despised—have for the first time come to his attention and occupy a very high place in his heart.

"By the way, what's wrong, Harry?" Hermione asked as they walked down a flight of stairs. A row of portraits of old wizards hung beside the stairs, all busy talking to each other and ignoring them. "You seem upset about something."

"Seamus believes Harry lied about the Mysterious Man," Ron said succinctly when Harry didn't answer.

Harry thought Hermione would side with him and react angrily, but she just sighed.

"Yes, Lavender thinks so too," Hermione said with a worried look.

"You've been having a pleasant chat with her, discussing whether I'm a liar, a show-off, a fraud, haven't you?" Harry said loudly.

"No," Hermione said calmly, "Actually, I told her to shut her big, fat mouth and stop gossiping about you. Harry, I really hope you won't criticize us anymore, because Ron and I are on your side, unless you haven't noticed."

A brief silence.

"I'm sorry," Harry said softly.

"It's alright," Hermione said, maintaining her composure, then shook her head. "Don't you remember what Dumbledore said at the end-of-term banquet last year?"

Harry and Ron stared at her dumbfounded, and Hermione sighed again.

Regarding the Mysterious Man, Dumbledore said of him, "His methods of creating conflict and hostility are very sophisticated. We can only show the same unbreakable friendship and trust—"

"How could you remember such a thing?" Ron asked her admiringly.

"I listened carefully, Ron," Hermione said, somewhat gruffly.

"I listened to it too, but I still can't quite put my finger on it—"

"The problem is," Hermione said bluntly, "that's what Dumbledore really meant. We've only been back for two months, and we're already fighting amongst ourselves. The Mysterious Man Sorting Hat's warning meant the same thing: unite as one—"

"Harry is right," Ron countered, "If that means we're going to befriend Slytherin —the chances are slim."

"Oh, I think it's a real shame that we can't work towards unity between the houses," Hermione said angrily.

They arrived at the bottom of the Marble Staircase, where a group of fourth-year Ravenclaw students were swimming through the Entrance Hall. As soon as they saw Harry, they huddled together, seemingly afraid Harry might harm those lagging behind.

"Yeah, we should definitely try to befriend people like that," Harry said sarcastically.

Then they followed the Ravenclaw students into the Great Hall, where the enchanted ceiling perfectly reflected Harry's mood: gray and gloomy.