A Nundu for A Pet

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Amelia Bones sat in her office, pinching the bridge of her nose as she listened to the animated discussion around her. The Talisman that Harry Potter had created lay on her desk, its surface catching the morning light streaming through the Ministry's enchanted windows.

"So, let me get this straight," said Auror Proudfoot, leaning forward in his chair. "A first-year student created this?"

Mad-Eye Moody's magical eye swiveled to fix on the younger Auror, his scarred face twisting into what might have been a grin. "Aye. And before you ask - yes, I've tested it myself. The boy's got talent that'd make some of our senior artificers weep."

"But he's eleven," Dawlish interjected, looking bewildered.

"Brilliant observation there, Dawlish," Moody growled sarcastically. "Next you'll be telling us water is wet."

Amelia picked up the Talisman, its weight familiar in her palm. "Age doesn't always correlate with ability. This Talisman achieved a Gilded Fang ranking during official testing. It can deflect minor hexes, warn of incoming attacks, emit heat or cold based on where you are and even store magical energy for a counterattack."

"And heal fatal wounds at the cost of self-destruction," added Moody, his magical eye now fixed on the device. "Though I hope none of you lot will need that particular feature."

The room fell silent as the implications sank in. Auror Williamson was the first to speak up, eager to explain, "This could save lives. How soon can we get these distributed to the force?"

Amelia exchanged a knowing look with Moody before responding. "That's where things get... political."

"Fudge," Moody spat the name like a curse. "Man's surrounded himself with so many yes-men, I'm surprised he can still hear himself think."

"But surely he'll see the benefit," Proudfoot argued. "This is exactly what we need for junior Aurors, especially during training!"

Moody's laugh was harsh. "You're assuming Fudge and his cronies want a competent Auror force. Peace makes people complacent, and complacent people don't like spending money on security."

"It's not just the production costs," Amelia added, setting the Talisman back on her desk. "We'd need to hire qualified artificers to replicate these under Potter's guidance. Then there's the matter of compensating Potter himself for his invention."

"Lucius Malfoy will be in Fudge's ear the moment we propose this," Moody growled. "Man's been trying to cut our budget for years. Claims we're an 'unnecessary expense in peacetime.'"

Dawlish frowned. "But Malfoy's son is at Hogwarts with Potter. Surely he'd want-"

"Malfoy doesn't give a damn about what would help the Auror force," Moody interrupted. "He cares about influence and gold, in that order."

Amelia watched her Aurors' faces fall as reality set in. She'd been dealing with Ministry politics long enough to know how this would likely play out. Fudge would smile, congratulate Potter, maybe even give him an award - and then bury the proposal under committees and bureaucracy until it died a quiet death.

"So what do we do?" Williamson asked, looking between Amelia and Moody.

"We prepare our case," Amelia said firmly. "Get me exact numbers on training accidents from the last five years. Cost of medical care for injured Aurors. Time lost to recovery. Everything."

"Won't matter," Moody grunted. "Fudge barely reads his own breakfast menu, let alone detailed reports."

"Then we make it simple enough that even his 'advisors' can't misinterpret it," Amelia countered. "And we remind him that the Boy-Who-Lived creating something to protect Aurors would make for excellent press."

"Speaking of Potter," Proudfoot leaned forward, "what's your read on him, Mad-Eye? You were at the testing."

Moody's magical eye stopped spinning for a moment. "Kid's sharp. Too sharp, maybe. Knows more than he lets on. And that cat of his..."

Amelia shot him a warning look. They'd discussed their suspicions about Potter's peculiar pet privately, but that wasn't for general discussion.

"The point is," Amelia cut in, "Potter's created something valuable, and he's willing to help us implement it. The question is whether we can get the Ministry to see sense."

"Fat chance of that," Moody snorted. "Ministry and sense haven't been on speaking terms even before Voldemort kicked the bucket." he added casually, ignoring the way some flinched at the name.

"Always the optimist, Alastor," Amelia said dryly.

"I'm alive because I'm realistic," he retorted. "Speaking of which - Proudfoot, your left side's been exposed for the last ten minutes. In a real fight, you'd be dead five times over."

Proudfoot straightened in his chair, looking chagrined.

"Back to the matter at hand," Amelia said, "I want proposals on my desk by tomorrow morning. Ways to implement this, costs, training requirements - everything. Make it thorough, but keep it simple enough that even Fudge can't misunderstand it."

"And if he still says no?" Dawlish asked.

Amelia's smile was thin. "Then we remind him that the Prophet would love to know why the Ministry turned down a chance to better protect its Aurors, especially when the invention came from Harry Potter himself."

"Now you're thinking like a proper cynic," Moody approved, his magical eye spinning wildly. "Might make a decent Auror of you yet, Bones."

"I live for your approval, Alastor," she replied sarcastically. "Now, unless anyone has anything else to add?"

The Aurors shook their heads, gathering their things to leave. As they filed out, Moody lingered behind.

"Potter's not just talented," he said quietly once they were alone. "He's got power behind him. That cat of his-"

"Not here, Alastor," Amelia cut him off. "The walls have ears."

"All I'm saying is, keep watching. Boy's going to shake things up, whether Fudge likes it or not."

Amelia picked up the Talisman again, studying its intricate patterns. "I know. That's what worries me."

"Worried about Potter?"

"No," she said slowly. "I'm worried about how the Ministry will react when they realize just how special he really is. Power makes people nervous, Alastor. Nervous people make stupid decisions."

Moody's magical eye fixed on her. "Speaking from experience?"

"Speaking from watching Fudge for the past few years," she replied. "Just... keep an eye on the situation."

"Both of them," Moody agreed, tapping his magical eye. He stumped toward the door, pausing at the threshold. "And Bones? Maybe we should arrange another meeting with Potter. About his... pet."

Amelia nodded slowly. "In time, Alastor. In time."

After Moody left, Amelia sat back in her chair, turning the Talisman over in her hands. A first-year student creating something of this caliber was remarkable enough. But combined with everything else they'd observed about Potter - his unusual abilities, his mysterious pet, his apparent maturity beyond his years - it painted a picture that both intrigued and concerned her.

"Well, Mr. Potter," she murmured to the empty office, "you certainly know how to keep things interesting."

⚯ ͛

⚯ ͛

Amelia Bones strode through the Ministry's corridors, her monocle glinting in the artificial light. The past week had been a careful dance of politics and subtle negotiations. She'd learned long ago that in the Ministry, walls didn't just have ears - they had mouths too, and rumors spread faster than Fiendfyre.

"Madam Bones!" called out John Dawson, head of the Department of Magical Equipment Control. "A moment?"

She paused, noting his eager expression. Dawson was one of the few department heads who Malfoy's influence hadn't bought. "Of course, John."

"I've reviewed your proposal," he said quietly as they walked. "The potential applications are... remarkable. Not just for Aurors - think about our Curse-Breakers, Dragon Handlers, even our field researchers."

"Precisely," Amelia nodded. "Though let's keep the focus on Auror safety for now. Too many applications at once might... complicate matters."

"Politics," Dawson sighed. "Speaking of which, Umbridge has been asking questions. Nothing specific, but she's noticed the increased traffic to your office."

"Has she now?" Amelia's voice was dry as dust. "How fascinating that the Senior Undersecretary has time to monitor corridor traffic."

They reached a quieter section of the Ministry, where the portraits were older and less inclined to gossip. Amelia had discovered years ago that these ancient paintings, unlike their newer counterparts, held little interest in modern politics.

"The Auror training budget is up for review next month," Dawson mentioned casually. "Timing could be everything."

"Indeed. Though I expect certain parties will suggest we don't need additional protection in these 'peaceful times.'"

"Peaceful?" Dawson scoffed. "Tell that to Johnson's team. Lost two trainees last month in what should have been a routine operation."

Before Amelia could respond, a sickly-sweet voice cut through their conversation like a poisoned knife.

"Madam Bones, Mr. Dawson," Dolores Umbridge simpered, appearing from a side corridor. "How delightful to find you both here."

Amelia maintained her neutral expression, though she noticed Dawson's slight grimace. "Dolores. How unexpected."

"Oh, I do like to take different routes through the Ministry," Umbridge said with a girlish laugh that set Amelia's teeth on edge. "One notices so many interesting things. For instance, your office has been quite popular lately."

"Has it?" Amelia raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware you were keeping count of my visitors, Dolores. Such dedication to corridor surveillance must leave you little time for your actual duties."

Umbridge's smile tightened. "As Senior Undersecretary, I take an interest in all Ministry activities."

"How conscientious," Amelia replied. "Though surely the Senior Undersecretary has more pressing matters than monitoring foot traffic? Unless, of course, you're considering a transfer to Magical Maintenance?"

Dawson coughed suddenly, hiding what might have been a laugh.

"I merely thought," Umbridge pressed, her voice even sweeter, "that as we all work together for the Ministry's benefit, you might share what has everyone so excited."

"Excited?" Amelia adjusted her monocle. "Oh, you must mean the annual budget reviews. Yes, quite thrilling stuff - procurement costs, training expenditures, equipment depreciation calculations. I'd be happy to send you the full reports; they're rather lengthy, but I'm sure someone of your... dedication would find them fascinating."

Umbridge's face went slightly pink. "That won't be necessary."

"Are you certain? I believe the equipment depreciation report alone is seven hundred pages. With charts."

"I'm sure you have everything well in hand," Umbridge said stiffly. "Good day, Madam Bones, Mr. Dawson."

As Umbridge waddled away, Dawson waited until she was out of earshot before speaking. "Seven hundred pages?"

"Eight hundred, actually," Amelia smirked. "Nothing drives Dolores away faster than actual work."

They continued walking, their conversation turning to more secure matters. Amelia had already gained support from several key departments—Magical Law Enforcement, Equipment Control, and even some of the Unspeakables had expressed interest after hearing rumors of the Talisman's capabilities.

But the real challenge would be the Minister's inner circle. Fudge himself wasn't the problem - the man could be convinced if you appealed to his love of positive press. No, the real obstacle was Lucius Malfoy and his influence over the Minister's advisors.

"We'll need more than just department support," Amelia mused. "We need public opinion."

"The Prophet?"

"Not yet. First, we need to ensure our position is unassailable. Get me everything you can about recent Auror casualties and training accidents. And John? Make sure the numbers are stark enough that even Fudge can't ignore them."

Later that evening, in her office, Amelia reviewed the growing stack of reports on her desk. Support was building, but so was resistance. She'd noticed certain officials suddenly becoming unavailable for meetings, others abruptly changing their positions after "private consultations."

A memo flew in, folding itself into the shape of a mouth: "Madam Bones, Minister Fudge requests your presence tomorrow morning regarding the Talisman."

Amelia smiled grimly. So it began. She picked up Harry Potter's Talisman, studying its intricate patterns. Tomorrow would be the first real test - convincing Fudge that this investment was not just necessary, but politically advantageous.

"Well, Mr. Potter," she murmured, "let's see if your creation can navigate Ministry politics as well as it deflects hexes."

She began preparing her presentation, knowing that in the Ministry, the real magic often happened in meeting rooms, not dueling chambers. And sometimes, the most dangerous curses came wrapped in policy documents and budget reports.

One Day Earlier - Lucius

Lucius Malfoy sat in his study, the morning light filtering through the tall windows as he sorted through his correspondence. His elegant fingers paused at a letter bearing Draco's hasty scrawl. Opening it, his expression grew increasingly sardonic as he read:

"Father,

Potter's getting special treatment again. Ministry officials came to Hogwarts just to meet with him! Amelia Bones herself was there. It's completely unfair - I'm a first-year like, but he is the only one getting treated like he is important.

He walks around like he owns the place with that weird cat of his. Even some of the Slytherins are starting to follow him around, especially those Sallow twins. I told them they're betraying their pure-blood heritage, but they just ignored me!

Something needs to be done about this. Can't you speak to the governors?

Your son,

Draco"

Lucius lowered the letter, his mind working. Ministry officials at Hogwarts, for a first-year student? Amelia Bones herself attending... interesting.

"More complaints from Draco?" Narcissa's voice came from the doorway. She moved into the study with characteristic grace, picking up the letter. Her eyes scanned it quickly, and she gave a slight scoff. "Really, Lucius, he's becoming obsessed with the Potter boy. They're just children."

"Perhaps," Lucius said slowly, his mind drifting back three years. "Though this isn't the first time Potter has... caught my attention."

Narcissa raised an elegant eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I saw him in Diagon Alley, three years ago. With Minerva McGonagall." Lucius drummed his fingers on his desk. "There was something... off about his companion."

"The cat Draco keeps mentioning?"

"Yes. At first glance, it appeared to be a normal cat, but..." Lucius frowned, remembering how his magical senses had prickled that day, how the creature's eyes had seemed to pierce right through him. "There was power there. Power that shouldn't exist in a simple house cat."

Narcissa waved a dismissive hand. "You're reading too much into this. He's an eleven-year-old boy."

"An eleven-year-old boy who warranted a visit from the Head of the DMLE," Lucius stood, straightening his robes. "I think it's time I paid the Ministry a visit. Something is happening, and I don't appreciate being left out of the loop."

"And what will you tell them? That you're investigating because your son is jealous of Harry Potter's cat?" Narcissa's tone was gently mocking.

Lucius picked up his snake-headed cane. "I'll tell them nothing. I'll listen. Watch. The Ministry's corridors whisper to those who know how to hear." He paused at the door. "That day in Diagon Alley, that creature looked at me, Narcissa. Not like a cat looks at you. It looked at me like it was measuring how much of a threat I might be."

"And what did you conclude about the mysterious cat?" Narcissa asked, amusement still evident in her voice.

"Nothing," Lucius admitted. "And that, my dear, is what concerns me most. I don't like mysteries, especially ones that walk into Hogwarts alongside Harry Potter."

As he strode toward his study's Floo connection, Lucius's mind was already working through his Ministry contacts. Something significant enough to bring Amelia Bones to Hogwarts... something that required multiple Ministry officials... and somehow, it all centered around an eleven-year-old boy with a strange pet.

The green flames engulfed him as he stepped into the fireplace, his last thought being of those unnatural eyes that had studied him three years ago. Eyes that had belonged to what should have been just a cat, but wasn't. Not by a long shot.

⚯ ͛

⚯ ͛

The marble halls of the Ministry echoed with Lucius's measured footsteps as he made his way through various departments, his frustration mounting with each conversation. Finally, he found himself in Fudge's office, watching the Minister fidget with his lime-green bowler hat.

"Hogwarts visitors?" Fudge blinked owlishly. "Well, yes, there was some activity... Amelia mentioned something about a departmental matter..."

"A departmental matter," Lucius repeated flatly. "And you, as Minister, weren't informed of the specifics?"

"Well, you know how it is, Lucius. Lots of paperwork, many departments..." Fudge adjusted his collar nervously.

Lucius leaned forward slightly, his voice smooth as silk. "Minister, consider how this looks. Ministry officials entering Hogwarts without your explicit knowledge or approval. What if the Prophet got wind of this? They might question who's really running the Ministry."

Fudge's face paled. "Now, see here..."

"Perhaps," Lucius suggested delicately, "we should make some inquiries. Though I wouldn't approach Amelia just yet – best to have all the facts first, wouldn't you say?"

After two hours of questioning various officials and department heads, a pattern emerged: Elliot Finch, Leo Hartwell, and Clara Dovewood are all specialists in Talismans and magical artifacts.

"Talismans?" Fudge scratched his head. "Bit of a dead branch of magic, isn't it? Hardly anyone bothers with them anymore."

Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose. "Think, Minister. Why would Talisman specialists visit Hogwarts? Who were they meeting?"

"Well, surely not a student..." Fudge trailed off at Lucius's expression.

"Harry Potter," Lucius bit out; now it all made sense. His son had written that Harry Potter met Ministry Officials, and those three were Talisman testers, which could mean only one thing. "They were there to evaluate a Talisman created by Harry Potter."

Fudge's face scrunched in confusion. "But... he's still in his first year! And since when do Talismans need evaluating? Don't people just make them and sell them in shops?"

"Talismans have ranks, Minister," Lucius explained with strained patience. "From Ashborn to Eclipse Eternal. The fact that multiple senior evaluators were present suggests this wasn't a simple student project."

"Ranks?" Fudge looked even more bewildered. "Like those Muggle military badges?"

Lucius closed his eyes briefly, reminding himself that hexing the Minister of Magic would be counterproductive. "The point, Minister, is that something significant is happening. Something involving Potter, Amelia Bones, and a branch of magic that, while currently overlooked, has historically been quite powerful."

"Oh!" Fudge brightened. "Should we ask Amelia about it now?"

"No," Lucius said sharply. "Let's... gather more information first." 'And keep this away from people I can't control,' he added mentally.

Lucius kept his expression neutral as he made his suggestion. "Perhaps we should consult the Department of Magical Artifacts first. Their expertise would be... invaluable at this stage."

"Oh yes, excellent idea!" Fudge nodded enthusiastically. "I'll have someone fetch Finch right away."

A brief wait followed, during which Lucius positioned himself strategically in the corner of the Minister's office, where he could observe without drawing attention. The soft knock at the door announced their expert's arrival.

"Ah, Mr. Finch, thank you for coming," Fudge greeted as Elliot entered his office. The Chief Examiner of Magical Artifacts carried himself with quiet confidence, seemingly unperturbed by Lucius Malfoy's presence in the corner.

"What can you tell us about your visit to Hogwarts?" Fudge asked, fiddling with his bowler hat.

"Certainly, Minister. We evaluated a remarkable Talisman created by young Mr. Potter." Elliot's eyes sparkled with professional enthusiasm. "Quite extraordinary work. We ranked it as Gilded Fang – a classification rarely achieved even by adult craftsmen."

"And this is... good?" Fudge glanced between Elliot and Lucius.

"Very good, Minister. The Talisman has significant defensive capabilities. In fact," Elliot's smile widened, "Madam Bones believes it could be invaluable for Auror protection. Mr. Potter has agreed to help produce more for the department."

Fudge's face lit up. "Really? How wonderful! A way to protect our Aurors, and created by Harry Potter himself! The public will love this!"

"Minister," Lucius cut in smoothly, "shouldn't we be concerned about a first-year student having such influence over Ministry operations? The proper channels-"

"Pardon my interruption," Elliot interjected, his polite tone barely masking his amusement, "but does House Malfoy have some specific concern about Mr. Potter's contribution to Auror safety?"

Lucius's hand tightened on his cane, his grey eyes cold. Elliot met his gaze steadily, the slight smile never leaving his face.

"I merely suggest," Lucius managed through clenched teeth, "that the Minister should have been informed about this... project. Perhaps Madam Bones should explain why she bypassed proper protocol."

"Yes, yes, quite right," Fudge nodded. "I'll meet with Amelia tomorrow morning. Though I must say, this all sounds rather promising. Protecting our Aurors, and with Harry Potter involved! The Prophet will have a field day!"

As they left Fudge's office, Elliot paused beside Lucius. "Your son is in Mr. Potter's year, isn't he? Perhaps he could learn something from him about Talisman crafting. It's such a... valuable skill." With a slight bow, he walked away, leaving Lucius seething in the corridor.

Lucius watched Elliot's retreating back, his mask of composure barely hiding his fury. First the mysterious cat, now this. Harry Potter was becoming more than just an irritant – he was becoming a player in Ministry politics, and he wasn't even twelve years old yet.

⚯ ͛

Lucius stormed into Malfoy Manor, his expensive robes billowing behind him as he made his way to the drawing room. His silver-tipped cane struck the marble floor with more force than necessary, echoing his frustration through the halls.

Narcissa was already there, seated elegantly in her favorite chair, a cup of tea floating beside her. Her piercing blue eyes followed her husband's agitated movements. "I take it the meeting didn't go as planned," she said, her tone carrying its characteristic aristocratic chill.

"Potter," Lucius spat the name like it was poison. "That boy has created a talisman. Not just any trinket, but one good enough to earn a Gilded Fang ranking. Bones and her department are practically salivating at the prospect of mass-producing it for their Aurors."

Narcissa's eyebrow arched slightly. "A first-year student created a Gilded Fang talisman?" She took a deliberate sip of her tea. "Interesting. Though I find it more interesting that our son's letters home have contained nothing but complaints about Potter's existence in Slytherin. Not a single mention of Potter's... capabilities."

"This is serious, Narcissa," Lucius snapped, though his wife's unruffled demeanor made him check his tone. "The boy is gaining influence in the Ministry. Bones bypassed standard protocols to fast-track the evaluation, and that fool Fudge is actually supporting it."

"Perhaps," Narcissa set down her cup with precise movement, "if Draco spent less time complaining about Potter's friends and more time observing his abilities, we might have been better prepared for this development. The boy is in Slytherin, after all. We should have expected... ambition."

Lucius's jaw tightened at his wife's subtle criticism. She was right, of course. They had underestimated Potter, and now they were playing catch-up to a first-year student's political maneuvering - whether the boy knew he was doing it or not.

Amelia Bones

Amelia Bones strode through the Ministry's corridors, her monocle glinting under the magical lights. Alastor Moody's wooden leg clicked rhythmically beside her, while Elliot Finch, Leo Hartwell, and Clara Dovewood followed closely behind.

"Ready to play politics, lass?" Moody growled softly, his magical eye spinning wildly.

Amelia's lips curved into a slight smile. "Harry's Talisman has already detected three weak hexes since we entered the Ministry. His creation works perfectly."

"Speaking of detecting things," Moody muttered as they approached the gathering hall, "we've got an unwelcome snake in there."

The doors swung open to reveal the circular amphitheater-like room packed with Ministry officials. At the center was a single chair behind a desk, reminiscent of a conductor's position in an orchestra. And there, standing next to Minister Fudge like he owned the place, was Lucius Malfoy.

"Ah, Amelia!" Fudge called out, his lime-green bowler hat slightly askew. "Wonderful to see you, wonderful indeed!"

"Minister," Amelia replied evenly, her eyes never leaving Lucius. "I wasn't aware the Ministry had started hiring private citizens as consultants."

The room fell silent. Fudge's smile faltered. "Well, you see, Lucius is here as an... advisor..."

"An advisor?" Amelia's voice carried clearly through the chamber. "I wasn't aware we needed external advice on internal security matters. Unless, of course, Mr. Malfoy has suddenly become an expert on magical artifacts?"

Lucius's hand tightened on his cane. "I merely have the Ministry's best interests at heart."

"As do we all," Clara Dovewood stepped forward, her assessment badge gleaming. "Which is why such matters are handled by certified Ministry officials, not private citizens, regardless of their... generous donations."

A few chuckles echoed through the chamber. Fudge began to sweat.

"I must insist-" Lucius began, but Leo Hartwell cut him off.

"Minister," the runic specialist interjected, "according to Section 7, Paragraph 3 of the Ministry's Security Protocols, only certified officials may be present during discussions of potential security implementations."

Elliot Finch nodded. "The presence of an unauthorized individual could compromise the entire evaluation process."

Fudge looked between Lucius and Amelia, resembling nothing so much as a cornered rabbit. "Well, perhaps... Lucius, my friend, they do have a point about protocols..."

"Minister," Lucius's voice was silk over steel, "surely-"

"The protocols exist for a reason," Amelia stated firmly. "Unless you're suggesting we ignore Ministry law?"

The gathered officials murmured in agreement. Lucius's face remained impassive, but his eyes burned with barely contained fury.

"Perhaps it would be best if you waited in my office, Lucius," Fudge said weakly. "We can discuss other matters later."

Lucius gave a stiff bow and swept from the room, his robes billowing dramatically. As the doors closed behind him, Fudge attempted to regain control of the situation.

"Now then, Amelia," he said, puffing up slightly, "about your unauthorized visit to Hogwarts-"

"Unauthorized?" Amelia raised an eyebrow. "Minister, you personally approved the assessment team's visit." She gestured to Finch, Hartwell, and Dovewood. "The paperwork was filed last week."

"Yes, but you-"

"Was accompanying them as Head of the DMLE, given that this potentially affects Auror equipment. Standard procedure, Minister. Surely you remember signing off on it?"

Fudge's face reddened slightly. He had signed no such thing, and they both knew it, but he couldn't admit that without revealing he didn't read half the documents that crossed his desk.

"Ah... yes, of course," he mumbled. "Well then, shall we proceed with the presentation?"

Amelia took her place at the central desk, laying out several documents. "Certainly, Minister. We're here today to discuss a remarkable magical innovation: a protective talisman created by a young wizard named Harry Potter."

The name caused a ripple of interest through the chamber. Amelia noticed several members leaning forward in their seats.

"The talisman has been thoroughly tested and received a Gilded Fang ranking," she continued, nodding to the assessment team. "Clara, would you please demonstrate its capabilities?"

Clara stepped forward, holding Harry's copy of the Talisman. "With pleasure. Elliot, if you would?"

Finch drew his wand and cast a minor stinging hex. The Talisman glowed briefly, deflecting the spell while emitting a clear warning chime.

"As you can see," Amelia explained, "the Talisman provides both protection and warning against hostile magic. When faced with stronger spells, it alerts the wearer with a louder alarm, giving them crucial seconds to react."

She proceeded to detail the Talisman's other features—its temperature regulation, its ability to store and release magical energy, and its ultimate sacrificial protection capability; well, the last one wasn't shown since it required the holder to be heavily injured, and using it would cause the Talisman to turn to ash, but they all believed that the final ability existed. The chamber was silent, absorbing every word.

"Our proposal," she concluded, "is to begin with an initial production run of 1,000 talismans for field testing among our Auror corps. Mr. Potter has already agreed to assist with the production process, under proper supervision and compensation, of course."

"The cost for mass-producing these talismans," Amelia began, but was immediately interrupted.

"Is this really necessary?" A nasally voice cut through the chamber. Edmund Bletchley, a mid-level bureaucrat, stood up. "The war is over. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is gone. Why waste Ministry resources on military equipment?"

Several Aurors in the chamber turned to glare at him. Proudfoot, a senior Auror, stood up, his scarred face twisted in anger. "The war might be over, Bletchley, but did you forget about the attack just last year? Two Aurors died that night."

"Not to mention," Savage, another Auror, added, "the increasing dragon smuggling operations we've been dealing with. Just last month, Watson got third-degree burns trying to stop an illegal trading ring."

"Hem hem."

The sound made several people wince. Dolores Umbridge, wearing a fluffy pink cardigan that looked absurdly out of place in the formal chamber, smiled her sickly-sweet smile.

"While our brave Aurors' concerns are... touching," she simpered, "I must question the wisdom of placing our trust in a device created by an eleven-year-old boy. For all we know, these talismans could be cursed."

Clara Dovewood's usually pleasant face hardened. "Are you suggesting, Madam Umbridge, that my team and I are incompetent at our jobs?"

"Oh no, dear," Umbridge's smile widened. "I'm merely expressing reasonable concern about-"

"Reasonable concern?" Elliot Finch's voice was mild, but his eyes glinted dangerously. "I wasn't aware that questioning the competency of three senior Ministry assessors, all with Masteries in their respective fields, could be considered reasonable. But then again, some of us achieved our positions through merit rather than... other means."

The subtle jab at Umbridge's questionable rise through Ministry ranks wasn't lost on many in the chamber. Several people quickly covered their smirks with coughs.

Umbridge's face turned an interesting shade of puce. "Now see here-"

"If we could return to the matter at hand," Fudge interrupted hastily, seeing the dangerous glint in Umbridge's eyes. "What exactly are we looking at in terms of cost?"

Geoffrey Blackwood, Head of the Ministry's Budget Office, stepped forward with a thick ledger. "We've run the numbers extensively, Minister. To begin production, we'll need to hire three Rune Masters for the basic framework, two Enchantment specialists for the core spellwork, and a team of five skilled craftsmen for the physical creation."

He opened his ledger, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses. "The initial setup costs, including equipment and materials, would be approximately 5,000 Galleons."

Fudge's face paled considerably. "Five thousand?"

"For the setup only," Blackwood continued implacably. "Each Talisman would then cost approximately 100 Galleons to produce. For a thousand units, that's an additional 100,000 Galleons."

The Minister looked like he might faint. "A hundred and five thousand Galleons total?"

"Consider the alternative costs, Minister," Amelia interjected smoothly. "Each time we lose an Auror, we pay out death benefits of 10,000 Galleons to their family. Not to mention the cost of training new recruits - 15,000 Galleons per Auror over three years."

"Additionally," Blackwood added, "Mr. Potter's contract would entitle him to 20% of each Talisman's sale price. We're proposing to sell each unit for 250 Galleons, meaning he would receive 50 Galleons per Talisman."

"That's highway robbery!" someone shouted from the back.

"Actually," Leo Hartwell spoke up, "similar protective devices from other magical nations cost upwards of 500 Galleons, and none offer the same level of protection. The Chinese Ministry's Dragon Scale Shields cost 800 Galleons each."

"And they work like shit," Moody growled. "Lost two good Aurors in '87 because those shields failed against dark curses. Potter's Talisman not only can deflect certain spells, but it can give a very loud noise when someone feels like throwing a curse at you."

Amelia noticed several of the budget-conscious officials starting to look more interested. "Furthermore," she added, "the contract includes a clause that any improvements or variations developed by the Ministry using the original design would grant Mr. Potter only 10% of those sales."

"The boy's being more than reasonable," Blackwood confirmed. "Most inventors demand at least 30% for the original product and 20% for derivatives."

"But he's just a child," Umbridge tried again, though more weakly this time. "Surely he can't be allowed to sign such contracts?"

"His magical guardian can sign on his behalf," Blackwood replied smoothly. "And given that it's Edward Tonks, I doubt there will be any legal issues."

"The initial investment is considerable," Amelia acknowledged, "but the long-term benefits far outweigh the costs. We're not just talking about saving lives - we're talking about improving our Aurors' efficiency. A protected Auror is a more effective Auror."

"And," Clara added, "the talismans can be reused as long as the holder doesn't need for the final ability to be used. They don't burn out like most protective artifacts. As long as they're not required to absorb a killing curse, they can last for years."

Fudge was starting to look less panicked and more contemplative. Amelia recognized the expression - he was calculating the political implications.

"Think of the headlines, Minister," she said quietly. "'Minister Fudge Implements Revolutionary Protection for Auror Force.' 'British Ministry Leads Magical Law Enforcement Innovation.' The International Confederation of Wizards would be very interested in this development."

That did it. Fudge's eyes lit up at the prospect of international recognition. "Well, when you put it that way... Mr. Blackwood, can we adjust the budget to accommodate this?"

"We can divert funds from the Fountain of Magical Brethren restoration project," Blackwood suggested. "It's not essential, and this would be a much better use of the money."

"And," Proudfoot added, "the Auror department can contribute 20,000 Galleons from our equipment budget. We were going to use it for new shield cloaks, but these talismans are far more useful."

Fudge looked around the chamber, seeing the growing support. Even some of the initial opponents were nodding now. Only Umbridge still looked mutinous, but she remained silent, probably planning her next move.

"Very well," Fudge declared, trying to sound authoritative. "Let's put it to a vote. All in favor of approving the production of 1,000 Potter Talismans, with the discussed budget allocation and contract terms?"

Hands rose throughout the chamber. Amelia did a quick count - it was well over two-thirds majority.

"Motion carried!" Fudge announced, beaming as if it had been his idea all along. "Madam Bones, please proceed with the necessary arrangements. I look forward to seeing the first batch of talismans in production."

As the chamber began to empty, Moody limped over to Amelia. "Not bad," he muttered. "Though Umbridge will cause trouble."

"Let her try," Amelia replied quietly. "Once the contract is signed and production begins, there's little she can do. And speaking of which..." She turned to Blackwood. "How soon can we have the contract ready?"

"It's already prepared," he smiled, patting his briefcase. "I had a feeling you'd pull this off. Shall we send it to Hogwarts today?"

"Immediately," Amelia agreed. "The sooner we get this moving, the better. And Geoffrey? Thank you for the support in there."

"Think nothing of it," he waved her off. "It's actually a sound investment, and it's not often we get to support something that's both financially and ethically beneficial. Besides," he added with a slight smirk, "watching Umbridge turn that particular shade of red made my whole week."

"Wait a moment," said Arnold Peasegood from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. "Since when is Edward Tonks Potter's guardian? The boy lives with his Muggle relatives, doesn't he?"

"Well, no, Harry Potter has been living with House Tonks for a while now, and technically, the Dursleys are his legal guardians in the Muggle world," Blackwood explained, adjusting his glasses. "But surely you don't expect us to have two Muggles walk into the Ministry to sign magical contracts?" He chuckled. "Can you imagine? 'Please, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, just sign here to approve your nephew's magical invention. Mind the ink pot - it floats.'"

Several people laughed at his impression of an overly polite Ministry worker.

"In cases involving Muggle-raised magical children," Amelia elaborated, "their Hogwarts Head of House or the Headmaster serves as their magical guardian for official purposes. It's been standard procedure since the International Statute of Secrecy was established until they are at Hogwarts, once they graduate, they become their own guardian, in Potter's case, since his parents are dead and he has no relatives, Dumbledore would have become his guardian the moment he became a student of Hogwarts, but since he lives with House Tonks, Edward Tonks is his guardian, well, there's someone else who could have filled that role but..."

"Though in this case," Clara added thoughtfully, "wouldn't it be Professor Snape? He's Potter's Head of House."

"The policy specifically names the Headmaster for matters involving Ministry contracts," Blackwood clarified. "It prevents any potential conflicts of interest, especially in cases where magical innovations might be used by multiple departments."

"Well, that's a relief," muttered someone in the back. "Can you imagine trying to negotiate with Snape?"

This earned another round of chuckles, though a few wizards and witches who had been in Slytherin looked mildly offended.

"In any case," Amelia steered the conversation back on track, "the guardianship matter is quite straightforward. Unless anyone has other concerns?"

There were no complaints.

Harry

Harry walked into the Great Hall, Itisa lounging across his shoulders like a furry scarf. The last day of his first year had gone remarkably well - even Snape's typically sour expression had flickered with something almost like approval when Harry had finished his perfect Forgetfulness Potion during the exam.

He was already dreaming about the upcoming summer—exploring magical creature habitats in France with Newt Scamander. Nym had promised him yesterday that they would all travel to Italy to have a good time and eat pizza once he returned from his little journey in France. His thoughts were interrupted when he noticed the sudden hush falling over the Great Hall, followed by an explosion of whispers.

"...youngest in centuries..."

"...Ministry contract..."

"...better than most adult enchanters..."

Harry raised an eyebrow, wondering what had gotten into everyone. When he reached the Slytherin table, Anna Sallow rose from her seat with an exaggerated flourish, sweeping into an elaborate bow.

"All hail the Greatest Slytherin, Master of Talismans, Defender of Aurors!" she proclaimed theatrically, her pale face brightened by obvious amusement.

"Did I miss something?" Harry asked dryly, scratching behind Itisa's ears as he sat down. "Or did someone turned into a cat...again?"

In response, Daphne Greengrass slapped a copy of the Daily Prophet in front of him, her usually composed expression carrying a hint of something that might have been respect.

The headline blazed across the front page in bold letters:

BOY WHO LIVED IS A TALISMAN MAKER PRODIGY

Ministry Awards Unprecedented Contract to First-Year Student

By Rita Skeeter

Below was a photo of him during the testing session, his face set in concentration as the Ministry officials examined his Talisman. Itisa made a soft sound that might have been a laugh, and Harry groaned internally. So much for keeping a low profile.

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