"Harry, aren't you being far too generous?" Watching Mundungus Fletcher rush out as though he had been pumped full of adrenaline, Tonks looked at Harry, rather lost for words.
Three hundred and fifty Galleons was definitely no small sum.
Although, as Mundungus Fletcher had said, hardly anyone made Hands of Glory anymore, and the price was not outrageous, Tonks was certain that, given his usual way of doing things, at least a third of that price would be profit.
A third meant more than a hundred Galleons. Even a mid-ranking Ministry of Magic employee or a Hogwarts professor would probably earn about that much in a week.
Even the salary Tonks currently received from the Ministry of Magic's Auror Office had yet to reach that figure.
"Oh, Tonks, you don't understand." Beside her, Ron stuffed a piece of cake into his mouth and said with a grin, "If you want a donkey to run fast, you have to feed it more beans."
The Weasley family had long since left behind the days when they had to stretch every last Knut. These days, young master Ron regularly carried a dozen or so Galleons in his pocket. Though he could not match Harry's wealth, he no longer thought there was anything wrong with Harry spending money like this.
After all, he knew how much money Harry's businesses with the twins had made.
Tonks could not help laughing at Ron's words. "Ron, isn't that a bit mean?"
"Well, crude words, sound reasoning." Ron thought nothing of it. He had inherited his attitude toward Mundungus Fletcher from his mother and likewise held him in very low regard. Still, disliking him was one thing; finding him useful was another.
Ron drew a very clear distinction between the two.
"All right, let's stop talking about him."