Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

In the heavy atmosphere, Scrimgeour scrutinized Evan.

Just as before, his eyes were full of distrust.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron all knew Evan wasn’t telling the truth; they had seen him leave the Twin Serpent Staff at Hogwarts, but at this moment they dared not say anything, afraid Scrimgeour might notice something amiss.

“I think you know more about the Twin Serpent Staff than I do, Mr. Minister,” Evan continued. “That staff has disappeared!”

“How did it disappear?”

“It just vanished. I placed it at my bedside before going to sleep, and when I woke up it was gone. It might have been stolen, but I think it’s because of magic, just like the enchantment on the sword of Gryffindor. Wizards of that era often liked to cast such magic on precious magic items,” Evan put on an innocent look. “I’m only a Gryffindor; perhaps I was never truly worthy of possessing the Twin Serpent Staff. If you want to find it, I’d suggest you look for a true Slytherin. Surely you have someone in mind? Would you like a suggestion? I think the Malfoys, generation after generation, have been pure-blood Slytherins. That staff might well be in their manor. You could go take a look. As far as I know, Lucius Malfoy has always maintained good relations with the Ministry — he might even be quite willing to hand the staff over to you.”

As soon as Evan finished speaking, Scrimgeour’s face turned ashen.

He seemed to know that Evan wasn’t telling the truth, but he had no evidence to disprove it. And the idea that the Death Eater Lucius Malfoy was “on good terms” with the Ministry was nothing short of a bitter irony.

Since Azkaban had fallen, the areas lost to Ministry control included not only the Wizarding prison in the North Sea but also several other Death Eater strongholds — one of which was Malfoy Manor. It was now the Death Eaters’ headquarters, a place the Ministry had no power to enter.

As long as Voldemort was there, no Auror could stand a chance.

Scrimgeour was well aware of this. That was why he was desperate to uncover whatever secret Dumbledore had left behind, whether it was a powerful weapon or a method to defeat Voldemort. Anything would do. With it, he could storm Malfoy Manor with his Aurors and confront Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

That, presumably, was Scrimgeour’s plan. But the reality was nothing like he imagined. His thinking had been wrong from the very start, and it was doomed to fail.

The situation was far worse than he had imagined. Scrimgeour probably assumed Voldemort and the Death Eaters were retreating to places like Malfoy Manor, waiting for him to lead an attack at any moment. He had not considered that these Dark wizards might instead launch an assault on the Ministry itself.

Even in the last war, nothing like that had ever happened.

“The Ministry will investigate further into what you’ve said. Mason, you’d better have sufficient evidence to prove your truth, or you’ll face the most severe charges,” said Scrimgeour stiffly. “As for Malfoy Manor, I’ll be there. And I must say — I am very disappointed in all of you.”

“We’re disappointed in you too, Minister,” Harry replied bluntly.

It was clear the talks had broken down!

Scrimgeour didn’t linger. He gave Evan and Harry a deep look, then turned away without a word and limped from the room.

Mrs. Weasley hurried after him, stopping at the back door for a minute or so before calling out, “He’s gone!”

Shortly after Scrimgeour left, Sirius returned, but Lupin and Tonks did not appear again.

Still in the sitting room on the ground floor of the Burrow, the conversation continued, but this time, the one talking to Evan, Harry, Hermione, and Ron was Sirius.

Mrs. Weasley had just left, having told them not to talk too long.

“What did he want?” Sirius asked.

“To give us what Dumbledore left us,” said Harry. “They’ve only just released the contents of his will.”

“Then he wanted to know why Dumbledore left them to us,” Hermione continued, curiously flipping through the collection of fairy tales in her hands. “He seems to think there’s a secret hidden in them about defeating Voldemort.”

“Dumbledore did leave information in them, some information that will be helpful to us, but it needs further study,” said Evan, taking the statue of the evil god from Sirius. It looked more like a gnarled, twisted tree root.

“Evan, if this thing really is connected to that monster, then it’s very dangerous.”

“I know, Sirius!” Evan replied, “I’ll be careful. Herpo the Foul that became an evil god is already very weak. His remaining power cannot affect the real world. But this statue could help me figure out how to destroy the beacons.”

“As long as you know what you’re doing,” Sirius said, then went on, “What about the other things Dumbledore left behind? Any thoughts? Have you figured anything out?”

“Some things, yes, but much is still unclear. He must have believed they would help us when we truly need them. …”

“When you truly need them?!” Sirius repeated skeptically. He was examining Harry’s Golden Snitch, holding it in his right hand and giving it a hard shake next to his ear. “Hmm, it feels like there’s something inside.”

“That’s what Scrimgeour thought too. But he couldn’t open it.”

“He seemed to think something will happen when the Snitch is handed to Harry,” said Hermione. “This is Dumbledore’s bequest to Harry — only Harry can open it.”

“I don’t know how,” Harry shook his head. “I haven’t a clue. Wait — this is the Snitch I caught in my first ever Quidditch match.”

Everyone seemed bemused, except Ron.

He gasped, pointing frantically from Harry to the Snitch and back again until he found his voice.

“That was the one you nearly swallowed!”

“Exactly,” said Harry, taking the Snitch from Sirius, his pulse quickening. “I wasn’t going to try too hard in front of Scrimgeour, was I? Maybe the Snitch has some kind of flesh memory, but it certainly doesn’t open just by touching it. It’s…”

He pressed his mouth to the Snitch, his heart beating fast, but just like before, nothing happened. The ball did not open.

“I expected something to happen, but it doesn’t seem to be…” Harry dropped the Snitch in disappointment, but then Hermione cried out.

“Writing! There’s writing on it, quick, look!”

Engraved upon the smooth golden surface, where seconds before there had been nothing, were five words written in the thin, slanting handwriting that Harry recognized as Dumbledore’s:

I open at the close. …

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