Kingsley stopped his demonstration and looked at the middle-aged wizard.
"What is your name, sir?"
"Basil Flint." The middle-aged wizard stuck out his belly. "Owner of Flint's Magical Supplies Shop."
"Mr Flint." Kingsley's tone remained calm. "You're right. Against the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters, an ordinary Shield Charm may indeed be insufficient. But that doesn't mean we should give up resisting."
He looked around at everyone present, his voice steady and strong. "If every one of us chooses to give up when faced with fear, the Dark Lord won't even need to lift a finger. He can simply declare victory. The wizarding world isn't saved by one or two heroes. It's saved by every person who chooses to stand up at a critical moment rather than kneel."
At these words, everyone present looked more or less thoughtful.
Even Flint fell silent for a moment before snorting and turning to leave.
Watching this, Lin Ze realized he seemed to have overlooked someone earlier.
Kingsley Shacklebolt.
A future core member of the Order of the Phoenix, Head of the Auror Office during the Second Wizarding War, and Minister for Magic after Voldemort's final downfall.
At this moment, he had yet to become that legendary figure. He was merely a young Auror giving apprentices free lessons in an ice cream shop.
If Kingsley was also at the Ministry now, he was someone worth getting to know.
Lin Ze was about to approach him, but Kingsley had already packed his things and was heading for the door.
The two came face-to-face at the entrance.
"You're... Lin Ze?" Kingsley paused, evidently recognizing him too.
"You know me?" Lin Ze was a little surprised.
"Of course." Kingsley smiled slightly. "An Auror who subdued three Death Eaters single-handedly-who in the Ministry hasn't heard of you? Though I hear you've been transferred to the Records Management Office?"
"Yes. A reassignment."
"That's wonderful." Kingsley's tone suddenly grew enthusiastic.
"I've been wanting to talk to you. I've heard some of the details about your fight in Knockturn Alley, but there are a few things I'm not clear on."
Lin Ze hesitated briefly, then nodded. "Sure, but I have something to do today. Another time."
Kingsley took a business card from his robe pocket and handed it over. "Anytime."
Lin Ze accepted the card, watched Kingsley leave, then slipped it into his pocket.
Another potential connection.
He returned to his attic room to rest.
He had only just lain down when the flutter of wings came from outside the window.
A gray barn owl stood on the windowsill with a letter in its beak.
It wasn't a Ministry owl. This was a privately owned owl, bigger and more haughty-eyed. It even raised its chin arrogantly at the sight of Lin Ze.
Lin Ze opened the window. The owl dropped the letter into his hand, then held out a claw and waited as though it were only right.
"You want a tip, huh?" Lin Ze fished a Knut from his pocket and placed it on the owl's claw.
The owl looked down at the Knut, then back up at Lin Ze, its eyes practically overflowing with disdain.
Then it spread its wings and flew away, deliberately flapping a faceful of dust at him as it left.
"Even owls think I'm poor." Muttering curses, Lin Ze shut the window.
The letter was from Olivia.
"Dear Lin Ze,
I've arrived safely back in France. All is well.
Father seems to have been in a good mood since returning home. He actually brought you up at dinner last night. Mother secretly told me that he read Uncle Scrimgeour's letter three times over in his study.
This morning, the Daily Prophet here in France carried a report saying that the British Ministry of Magic had lost another Auror.
After reading the paper, Father had someone send his treasured bottle of aged Bordeaux into the fireplace, connecting to Britain through the French Floo Network.
He said it was to see an old friend off.
I've never seen him so solemn.
But don't worry about me. I'm fine. Although people are uneasy here in France too, things are much more stable overall than in Britain.
I'm now interning in the Department of Magical Legal Affairs at the French Ministry of Magic. My supervisor is a very kind witch.
It's just...
All right, I admit it. I miss you a little.
Also, Mother asked me to ask you whether you've used that box of soap she gave you last time. She says that brand is good for your hair.
Keep yourself safe for me.
-Olivia
P.S. Dad asked me to tell you not to trouble yourself too much over the Port of Marseille matter. The French have their own way of handling things. His exact words, though, were 'Don't let that brat stick his nose in,' so I translated it a little. The above is roughly what he meant."
Lin Ze read it twice, then folded the letter and tucked it into the inside pocket of his coat.
He had long since forgotten about the soap.
The box was still sitting on his attic windowsill, its wrapping unopened.
As for the message Mr Delacour had asked Olivia to pass along... he had never intended to investigate the Port of Marseille matter any further.
When Crouch first showed him that intelligence, he had known it was a pledge of allegiance, proof that he, Lin Ze, wasn't some useless fool who did nothing but patrol, write reports, and coast through his days.
Now that he had achieved his purpose, digging deeper would only invite unnecessary trouble.
"Let the French worry about French affairs." Lin Ze stretched and pulled the covers up to his chin. "I'm just a clerk in the Records Management Office. Why should I worry about it?"
Outside, rain began to fall again.
He closed his eyes and listened to the raindrops tapping against the window frame, soon falling asleep.
The next morning, Lin Ze was woken by knocking.
It wasn't at his door, but at the old wizard's next door.
But through a wall so thin he could hear a mouse sneeze, the noise was no different from someone knocking on his forehead.
"Ignatius Prewett! Open up!" A shrill female voice echoed down the corridor.
"When are you going to pay me for those three months of potion ingredients? Don't think I don't know you're home just because you're playing dead! I can smell you brewing Elixir to Induce Euphoria!"
A flurry of frantic clattering came from next door, then everything fell silent.
"Don't think keeping quiet will get you out of this! I'm telling you, if you don't pay up, I'll report you! A retired potioneer, brewing potions privately to sell without paying taxes-let's see how you explain that to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement!"
Lin Ze covered his head with his pillow, rolled over, and tried to go back to sleep.
But he soon realized sleep was impossible, because the woman began knocking on the neighboring door with her wand. Every knock came with a red spark, crackling like firecrackers.
"Coming, coming! Stop knocking! You're going to smash the door!" The old wizard's voice finally rang out, filled with the despair of someone driven into a corner.
Lin Ze sighed, climbed out of bed, and walked barefoot to the window, pushing it open for some air.
London mornings in late October already carried a hint of cold.
He yawned and glanced down at the street.
Then his yawn caught in his throat.
On the lamppost across the street was a newly nailed-up wanted poster.
The photograph on it showed a hideous face wearing a metal mask, with the wanted individual's code name printed underneath in bold.
But what truly sent a chill down Lin Ze's back was the line of small print at the bottom.
"Last sighted: near Claire Street, South London. Anyone with information should contact the Ministry of Magic's Auror Office immediately."
Claire Street.
The very street he lived on.