Lin Ze couldn't help laughing at the sight of Frick, scared out of his wits.
"Stop laughing! I only got exposed because I was helping you dig up information!" Frick jerked his head up, his eyes red. "Do you know what Goyle said when he came over? He said, 'Frick, what did you hear today?' I said, 'I didn't hear anything.'"
"And then?"
"Then he just said, 'Oh.' Just that one 'oh,' and he left!" Frick clutched his hair. "But he patted my shoulder before he left. With how hard he did it, I think he was hinting at something!"
Lin Ze patted Frick's shoulder. "Whatever happens, thanks for keeping an eye out for me."
"Forget the thanks! What am I supposed to do now?" Frick's eyes widened.
"Just act like nothing happened." Lin Ze leaned back in his chair, sounding as casual as if he were discussing what to have for lunch.
"Crabbe and Goyle already have guilty consciences. They won't dare do anything to you. If you act too nervous, you'll only make them think you really heard something important."
Frick froze for a moment, then slowly nodded. "That... kind of makes sense?"
"Don't worry. You're not their biggest headache right now. I am."
"As for framing me..."
He left the sentence unfinished.
Because a very interesting question had suddenly occurred to him.
If Crabbe wanted to frame him, he would need the Logistics Office's cooperation.
And the man in charge of allocating supplies at the Logistics Office happened to be Parkinson.
Parkinson, the Logistics Office, Crabbe.
Put those three together, and it was practically a free point on a test.
He had already been planning to settle the score with Parkinson over those "three falsified trial records." Now Parkinson had walked straight into his line of fire.
"Frick, you said you didn't catch the details of their plan?" Lin Ze suddenly asked.
"Yeah... I only heard a few key phrases." Frick frowned as he tried to remember. "Something like 'contraband,' 'along the patrol route,' and... 'tomorrow night.'"
"Tomorrow night?" Lin Ze nodded thoughtfully.
"Hey, you're not going to take them head-on again, are you?" Frick asked worriedly.
"Of course not." Lin Ze gave him an innocent smile.
"I'm a law-abiding Auror. Why would I take them head-on?"
Frick shivered.
He always felt that Lin Ze was at his most dangerous when he wore that expression.
Meanwhile, in the Logistics Office, Malcolm Crabbe was sweating profusely as he flipped through a supply allocation manual.
His workstation was piled high with forms and paperwork, the desktop looking as though a rampaging Hippogriff had trampled over it.
As someone who had spent three years getting by in the Logistics Office and was still only a low-ranking clerk, Malcolm normally spent his days organizing files, checking inventory, and delivering supplies to the various departments.
Dull and boring, but at least it was safe.
At least, it used to be.
But ever since Bodo Crabbe-his older cousin from a distant branch of the family.
Had started asking him to help investigate the newcomer named Lin Ze, Malcolm felt his life was becoming more dangerous at a visibly alarming rate.
First, Bodo had asked him to look into Lin Ze's family background, then his patrol routes. Now he actually wanted to carry out some sort of "frame-up operation."
Malcolm might not have been very brave, but he wasn't stupid.
He knew perfectly well that there was a reason Bodo Crabbe was still a small fry after so many years in the Auror Office.
The newcomer Bodo wanted to go after had single-handedly taken down three Death Eaters just last week, and now he was Director Crouch's favorite.
What was picking a fight with someone like that if not asking to die?
The problem was, Bodo Crabbe was his cousin, and Bodo knew about some of his "little dealings" in the Logistics Office.
Like occasionally selling potion ingredients that were about to expire to black-market merchants in Knockturn Alley at low prices, earning himself a little extra money.
If that ever got out, he would definitely lose his job, and he might even face legal charges.
So when Bodo asked for his help, he didn't dare refuse.
"Fuck..." Malcolm wiped the sweat from his forehead, his hands shaking.
He had just dug a batch of confiscated contraband out of the warehouse. These things should have been destroyed, but they had been left piled in a corner of the warehouse, ignored.
Bodo's plan was simple:
Have Malcolm secretly take a piece of contraband and put it under Lin Ze's workstation, then have Bodo bring people over for an "inspection" and catch him red-handed with the evidence.
It wasn't a particularly clever plan, but if executed well, it really could cause Lin Ze considerable trouble.
Malcolm just wasn't quite sure which was riskier: helping his cousin or offending the newcomer named Lin Ze.
He had a vague feeling it was the latter.
Meanwhile, Lin Ze was sitting at his workstation with his legs crossed, leafing through a stack of file copies Harper had just delivered.
"These are copies of the supply allocation records I borrowed from the Logistics Office," Harper said, standing beside him and bowing obsequiously.
"You asked me to keep an eye on Malcolm Crabbe's recent movements. I found that he went to Warehouse Three alone this afternoon and stayed for about twenty minutes."
"Warehouse Three?" Lin Ze's hand paused slightly over the files. "What's stored there?"
"Mostly various kinds of contraband and confiscated supplies." Harper kept his voice extremely low. "According to regulations, these things should be destroyed regularly, but you know how it is. Who bothers with any of that these days? So a lot of things have been sitting there for months without anyone dealing with them."
Lin Ze nodded thoughtfully, then closed the files and smiled at Harper.
"Good work. Leave these files with me for now. Go back and keep watching."
"Yes, yes, of course. Rest assured." Harper nodded repeatedly, turned, and took a few steps before looking back. His lips trembled, as though he wanted to say something but couldn't get it out.
Lin Ze looked up at him. "Anything else?"
"Well... Mr. Lin Ze..." Harper's voice dropped until it was almost inaudible.
"I know this might not be my place to worry, but... some of the information you took from me before concerned certain important people... If someone investigates it in the future..."
"No one will investigate," Lin Ze said with certainty.
"Just follow my instructions. Once this mess is over, you'll be glad you chose the right side."
Harper stared blankly at Lin Ze for a long moment, then nodded firmly.
After Harper left, Lin Ze turned his notebook to the page containing intelligence on the Logistics Office, drew a line between Parkinson's name and Malcolm Crabbe's, then added a note beside it:
"Warehouse Three, confiscated supplies, unusual withdrawals recently."
He stopped writing and stared at the increasingly dense web of connections.
"Tomorrow's patrol should be lively." He closed the notebook and tucked it into his drawer. Then, as though remembering something, he pulled the drawer open again, took out the notebook, turned to the page concerning the cafeteria, and added a line:
"Parkinson, Sri Lanka tea, eight Galleons a pound."
"This lousy job really does keep getting more exciting," he muttered, stuffing the notebook back into the drawer and taking a sip of the coffee on his desk.
It had gone cold.
It tasted awful.