The Greedy Marauder!

Gabrielle was already asleep when William appeared on the beach.

The girl seemed to have suddenly relaxed, and then she was clearly exhausted. She slumped against his back, closed her eyes, and fell asleep, even snoring softly.

Anne was different; she was full of energy, skipping and hopping as she walked, her steps carrying a gust of wind.

William didn't feel like he'd been in a wolf's den or fought Thunderbird; it felt more like he'd discovered some incredible secret treasure.

A strange little sister... In the Stark family, William is the only normal person.

Hmm... probably.

Phoebe rushed over and took her sister from William's back. Gabrielle's little hands gripped William's hair tightly, and in the process of pulling, he grimaced in pain.

William always takes care to protect his hair to prevent balding in his youth... He doesn't say anything when he sees his hair being pulled out, but he feels a pang of heartache.

He didn't want to end up like Professor Snape, whose hairline receded year by year, yet he was humbly helpless.

William really wanted to write a letter to the professor, suggesting that if he didn't like washing his hair, he should just cut it short.

Isn't a buzz cut appealing? That's the ultimate romance for men.

William took out a bottle of Potions and handed it to Phoebe, gently instructing her, "I've already given Gabrielle the Potions, so don't worry, she's just a little sleepy."

After she woke up, she was given half of the drink again.

Phoebe was a little emotional, her eyes brimming with tears as she said, "Thank you, William."

"Don't be so polite with me, go back and get some rest."

Phoebe nodded and carried Gabrielle toward the hotel.

William gazed at Phoebe's retreating figure and suddenly remembered the five Abraxan horses... It seemed they had run away in fear after seeing the Werewolf.

I don't know if I'll go home the same way I came.

It seems Biarritz is not a place to stay for long, otherwise Madame Maxime would have come knocking on the door sooner or later, demanding money and horses!

If it were William, he would definitely do such a thing. Even if the horse returned, he would deny it and extort money from the rider!

"What about you? Aren't you sleepy?" William didn't think for long before looking at his sister.

A pair of hands rested on her little head, and a gentle voice said, "Let Hermione take you back."

Anne shook her head, but Hermione always listened to William, and she forcefully dragged the girl toward Phoebe.

Anne half-huddled around Hermione and wiped the mud off her body onto Hermione's face.

The two started joking around again.

The Dahei wagged its tail and followed. Tonight, it had first been a "thousand-mile" pursuit, and then it had fought with Jacob, the Werewolf leader.

That was close-quarters combat, Fang to teeth! The dog was exhausted and desperately needed to conserve its energy to show its strength again.

After William had arranged everything, Cregan came over.

William glanced at Cregan, a half-smile on his face, and said, "Director, it's been a long time. What brings you here?"

Cregan rubbed his old face, feeling it was a little hot. It had been so long since they'd last seen each other; they'd only met that morning because of the Dementor.

This weird, sarcastic tone... it'll give me a toothache sooner or later!

Cregan was also puzzled; it seemed like William was always running into all sorts of trouble... the Paris nuclear crisis, the Dementor incident, the Werewolf kidnapping... so many things happened on just one trip to France?

What a scourge! When you weren't here, the France people lived in peace and prosperity, while other countries suffered terribly. But now that you've arrived, everything has changed!

These grievances certainly couldn't be voiced. Cregan laughed, "With such a commotion here, it would be hard for me not to notice."

I've just found out some things. How's the Werewolf doing?

"Most of them are probably dead, and quite a few Apparition have escaped," William said lazily.

"If they escape, it will be very difficult for the Ministry of Magic to catch them." Cregan shook his head and sighed.

"You know, we have Werewolf Registry, but most Werewolf don't register."

William knew this, of course, and he didn't expect those useless Auror from the Ministry of Magic to give chase.

If they were even remotely useful, they wouldn't have let the Werewolf do this for so long, forming an entire industry chain, and yet they haven't made a single discovery.

If this news gets out, what a huge impact it will have on the Ministry of Magic!

Most importantly, those children weren't rescued by the Ministry of Magic, and the Werewolf weren't killed by Auror; they were all done by young United Kingdom wizards... This is really upsetting!

Cregan's good attitude stemmed from this: he wanted to repeat his old trick, taking credit for William's work as if it were a "joint" operation.

The so-called collaboration naturally involves one party providing the effort while the other remotely controls and directs the operation.

Establishing an image as a master of micro-management, even if it doesn't earn extra points, can at least save face for the French Ministry of Magic.

William flashed his classic Cedric- esque badger grin again.

An honest and simple smile!

Under the night sky, the eight teeth shimmered with glaze, appearing exceptionally white.

Anyone who knows William knows that this smile means certain death or disaster!

"I understand what the Director means. It's not that cooperation is impossible, but..." William changed the subject, speaking with a lighthearted tone:

"Before we cooperate, let's think about how to 'join forces' to deal with that Thunderbird."

William took the jewel, and given the Thunderbird's vengeful nature, it will surely Accio attack.

William, unwilling to fight the Thunderbird alone, decided to involve the Ministry of Magic, handing the difficult task over to the Auror.

He took the gem and sent the Auror to the front lines to drive away the Thunderbird... Just thinking about it is exciting!

"Thunderbird?" Cregan paused, "The Thunderbird from the nearby coast?"

"It's that thing. We probably accidentally disturbed it while we were rescuing people," William said. "It might have charged at me and attacked."

"You really only disturbed her?" Cregan asked, looking incredulous.

"She's about to lay eggs, and the unusual weather around here is all related to her." Cregan suddenly narrowed his eyes and asked, "You didn't steal the Thunderbird eggs, did you?!"

"How could that be?" William swore. "I swear on Tom's life, I... including Hermione, my sister, and anyone else who steals the Thunderbird's egg, Tom will die a horrible death!"

"Who is Tom?" Cregan asked curiously.

"Oh, Tom is my best friend. He transferred to Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in United States for the summer vacation," William blurted out.

Cregan looked at William with suspicion, but seeing that his expression didn't seem fake, he believed him.

"That's strange, since that Thunderbird rarely attacks humans."

"Maybe it's because she's a mother. I've heard of a condition called postpartum depression; Thunderbird probably has it too."

"..."

Cregan didn't think much of it and laughed, "Alright then, so this will be considered a joint operation between you and our Ministry of Magic?"

"Director, this isn't a joint operation," William said, trying to mislead. "The Thunderbird didn't attack because of me."

We fought the Werewolf and disturbed her, all to save your France children. Your resistance against the Thunderbird was the Ministry of Ministry of Magic's duty and obligation.

"If you want to use the guise of a 'joint operation,' you'll have to give me other compensation."

William is always looking at what's in his bowl while eyeing what's in the pot, and thinking about what's in the field; now he's even eyeing what's in other people's fields!

As expected of Ravenclaw's Falcon... a greedy Marauders!

"We can't award you any more Medal of Valor!" Cregan said hastily. "You and Hermione have already been awarded First Class Medals."

If it weren't for that, you saved so many children, you would definitely deserve a second-class medal.

However, I can get the Spain Ministry of Magic to award you a medal of honor; some of those children are Spain.

William was speechless. He wasn't Brezhnev, the gravedigger of the Soviet Union, who liked to award himself medals and even wear medals weighing over ten kilograms on his chest.

A few of those are enough; any more would be icing on the cake and wouldn't affect William's brilliance and prowess.

Besides, who cares about Spain medals? They're not anything special, and they're miles inferior to France!

Don't be fooled by people's constant criticism of France; it's only because France has the right to be insulted by you.

Why is no one insulting Gambia? This is something they claimed to have done at the United Nations:

A world "superpower" that occupied the entire Soviet Union in three days, formed an expeditionary force to Cleansweep the European continent, and conquered the Americas.

Therefore, even insults must adhere to basic principles; William has no respect for the Spain coat of arms.

"I don't want the medal!"

"Then what do you want?" Cregan hesitated. "Galleon? After giving you 10,000 Galleon, the Ministry of Magic doesn't have much of a budget left."

"..."

The French Ministry of Magic is a bunch of useless idiots. Look at the United Kingdom, Malfoy just recently announced that he would support the Ministry of Magic's transportation infrastructure.

Regardless of his governing ability, Minister Fudge always manages to raise money, even treating Old Ma's family like a gold mine, reaping wave after wave of profits.

What does it mean to be a money-making expert? What does it mean to be a true master of mowing down enemies? (Tactical lean back)

(Please vote for this post, everyone!)