Chapter Forty Eight
...
Right on time for her Thursday afternoon meeting, Pansy's fireplace lit up in green and she looked from her pocket watch to the flames. "Good morning, Morrigan. How are you?"
"I'm good! I finally worked it out!" Morrigan said, her smile bright and eager. "The aloe vera removes the warts and has the added bonus of making the Polyjuice Potion taste sweeter. Well, it tastes less hairy, at the very least, but it works for five full hours at a time now! Would you like me to send the samples through? I'm assuming you don't want it sent to the Potions Association?" she added.
Pansy waited for Morrigan to take a breath; she was clearly a brilliant potions master, but her excitement could make her lose her sense of calm, and Pansy needed Morrigan to be calm right now.
Morrigan took a shuddering breath, then another steadier one, and gave a guilty grin. "I did it again, didn't I?"
"Yes, but it's not a bad thing. It's fantastic that you were able to improve both the length and the taste of the Polyjuice Potion, Morrigan. I'm extremely pleased with your work, but as you assumed, I can't allow you to send it to the Potions Association. Once they get their hands on it, they'll increase ingredient costs, and no one wants to start a war over aloe vera, do they?"
Morrigan snickered and shook her head. "You're right. Worst war ever."
Pansy smiled gently. "Exactly. Now, I will take those samples. Do they all last five hours or are they shorter because of the sample size?" she asked, unlocking her fireplace grate so Morrigan could pass the box through.
"Sample size doesn't impact the length. I tried on rats and myself. I isolated myself in my apartment, and I wrote scientific findings for the different changes as they were experienced. Peeing was weird."
That was certainly not a conversation topic Pansy had expected from her day, but it definitely wasn't the worst she'd ever had, either.
"I think I'll let you keep those. Make sure they won't be seen by anyone. Except Jordan," she allowed, and Morrigan flushed like she'd already shown him the findings and was worried about being caught. "Out of curiosity, who did you Polyjuice into?"
"Uh, Jordan. He gave me a sample of hair. I also tried the potion with nail clippings and blood. Blood worked best, of course, and lasted almost seven hours instead of five, but it was the worst one to change back. It actually hurt, and my heart might have stopped for a few seconds longer than I'm comfortable with; I wouldn't recommend using blood if someone has heart problems."
"Noted, thank you. For this month, I want you to focus on the Skele-Gro potion. If you can improve the taste, I'm sure you'll get letters of thanks from people across the wizarding world. But that can be a bonus and isn't required. I'd like to see if you can do anything about shortening the time it takes to heal and regrow bones; anything from a single bone to multiple limbs, if possible. If you get this one right, we'll submit it directly to St. Mungo's and St. Bernadette's for their healers to test and use; they'll get more use out of it than we will, but we'll still need it ourselves," Pansy said.
Morrigan nodded. "I'll let you know my progress at our next meeting." She hesitated for a moment, then seemed to resolve her courage to continue. "Is Ginevra all right? I know she's on an important mission, but I wanted to thank her for the aloe vera idea."
"She's handling her mission well. You'll be able to thank Ginevra when she's back. I'm sure she'll contact you as soon as she's finished and cleared. Don't expect it to be soon," Pansy added; she had no idea how long this would take, after all, and didn't want to get Morrigan's hopes up.
Morrigan nodded again. "Thank you, Director Parkinson, I appreciate it. Can I work on anything else for you in the meantime?"
"Not unless you know how to make untraceable Floo powder."
Morrigan blinked. "Um... I do, actually. I was sworn to secrecy, but I can still make it if you need some and can't get to Floo-Pow to buy it, of course. I can even spare the two Sickles if you want... Are you all right, Director Parkinson?"
Pansy swallowed hard and fought to school her expression. "Where and when did you learn to make untraceable Floo powder, and why is it not listed on your resume?"
"Oh, uh... The Wildsmiths are family friends. They took pity on me after the death of my family, and taught me how to make Floo powder, and then I've helped them make the untraceable kind on the side since I was twelve, I think? Maybe thirteen. It's not on my resume because I swore to keep it secret."
Pansy inhaled and exhaled slowly. "If I supply the Floo plants and whatever other ingredients you need, how soon can you make it? The untraceable kind costs twenty Galleons a scoop; you didn't really think Floo-Pow made a profit from everyday witches and wizards buying their regular two Sickle Floo powder, did you? In fact, if you helped make it, you should be entitled to a percentage of that."
Morrigan opened and closed her mouth. "I need twelve hours to make it. However many plants you supply is the amount of scoops you'll get. I have the rest of the ingredients."
"Excellent, I'll send them straight to your home. This is now your main priority, even over your job and the Skele-Gro potion. Take time off work, but ensure you eat and stay hydrated. I don't want to have to pay a widow's fee to Jordan because you collapsed in a cauldron." She didn't give Morrigan a chance to do more than blush in response before continuing, "Once this is done, rest for a day, then go to the Wildsmiths to demand your dues. If you're uncomfortable doing this on your own, let me know and I will gladly provide a lawyer. If they refuse or ignore you or belittle you in any way, let me know, and I will visit them myself with a lawyer present. This is not a request, Morrigan. Talk with this so-called family friend of yours to ensure they know your worth and pay you every Galleon you are owed. Understood?"
Morrigan didn't look pleased at the prospect, but nodded. "Yes, Director Parkinson."
"Good, now go home and prepare. You'll have fifty Floo plants within the hour."
Morrigan's eyes widened. "It's already 2:40pm; can you get that many Floo plants in that amount of time?"
"I can and will if we end the call in the next minute," Pansy said, raising an eyebrow.
"Right, of course. Thank you. I won't let you down."
"I know you won't. Thank you, Morrigan," Pansy said, reaching out to end the firecall before the conversation could take another ten minutes. Putting a secure call through to Neville, she didn't have to wait long for the Herbologist to answer. Thankfully, Neville was between classes at Hogwarts, and wouldn't be disturbed in the time it took him to harvest and deliver the Floo plants to Morrigan and Jordan's home.
With that done, Pansy closed her fireplace and returned to her desk. She had gone over the plan to rescue Skeleton and the children from Avenir at least twenty times in the last two days, and the words were starting to blur. Draco and Blaise had put a lot of work into the plan and it made sense, but there was a difference between making sense in theory and making sense in real life when there were thirty kids scared, with out of control magic, and all of them trying to go in thirty different directions. Pansy rubbed her temples to ease her pending headache. She needed a distraction so she could focus on this main problem; if she thought about something else, then she might see what the glaringly obvious solution was that she just couldn't see right now.
The translation between Avery and the blonde witch was still sitting on her desk, and Pansy glanced at it. If she'd gone through Skeleton's rescue twenty times, then she'd gone through the translation at least a hundred times since receiving it. She could probably quote the damn thing word for word. The French translation had been done by Gabrielle, and she knew it was good, but perhaps the original French would give her something the translation missed. Maybe there was a mumble or something in the background that Gabrielle had missed, something pivotal? It was unlikely, but it would give her something to focus on other than Skeleton's rescue mission.
Grabbing the original recording disc, Pansy put the receiving disc to her ear, closed her eyes, and started to listen.
"Pourquoi avez-vous appelé pour me rencontrer? Et pourquoi ici? Je pense que j'ai été suivi," Avery said. (Why did you call to meet me? And why here? I think I was followed.)
"Vous pensez toujours que vous avez été suivi. Calme-toi, idiot. J'ai appelé pour vous rencontrer ici parce que c'est là que le nouveau quartier général va être. Quant à savoir pourquoi je vous ai appelé ici, la prochaine expédition de Time Turners sera déployée le mois prochain et vous êtes recherché. Votre rôle n'a pas changé: vous serez là pour surveiller la livraison, comme d'habitude, et rien de plus. Vous recevrez votre paiement une fois la livraison terminée," the witch said. (You always think you were followed. Calm down, you idiot. I called to meet you here because this is where the new headquarters are going to be. As to why I called you here, the next shipment of Time Turners are being deployed next month and you're needed. Your role has not changed: you will be there to guard the delivery, as normal, and nothing more. You will receive your payment once the delivery has been completed.)
Pansy paused the translation and frowned. It wasn't the words. The words were a perfect translation, as she'd expected, and they all made sense, but there was something she had missed. Something glaringly obvious that she'd never realised with the translations. Not with listening to the translations fifty or even a hundred times. She could have listened to the translation a thousand times and not realised this very important piece of information.
She recognised the blonde witch's voice.
Standing from her desk, Pansy headed to a filing cabinet and flipped through the files until she found the one she was looking for. Pulling it out and returning to her desk, Pansy unclipped the folder and tapped her wand to it, the folder turning into a large box filled with compartments. Ignoring the parchments and other documents, Pansy flicked the roller until the compartment with recording discs stopped with a rattle.
"Accio language recording," Pansy said, grabbing the disc that flew into the air. Switching the disc in her ear with the new one, she pressed the button to play the recording.
"Oh, I need to start now? Okay. Uh, so... Hola, mi nombre es... uh, wait, that's not right. It needs to be French, doesn't it? Sorry, oh, uh, desole. Right, sorry. Je suis désolé. I know, I should be better at this; I'm just so nervous!" (Hello, my name is... Spanish. I'm sorry, French.)
"Take your time, breathe, and do it right. Again."
"Oui," the witch quipped, as though immensely proud of her witty response.
Pansy resisted the urge to fast forward through the recording, and forced herself to listen properly. The witch in question had barely managed to pass her French test, but if Pansy's suspicions were right, she'd done it on purpose. In fact, now that Pansy had heard that original French recording, she'd even suspect the witch was either a native or fluent French speaker. How in Merlin's name had this witch even made it through the preliminary Cloffice tests? How had she missed this? Now that she was 99% certain of her suspicions, Pansy didn't know how she'd never suspected her before.
"Ah, okay. Thank you, I'm better now. Shall I start again?"
"Please."
"Bonjour Monsieur. J'ai commandé un café et il fait froid. J'en voudrais un nouveau, gratuitement," the witch said, a few words hesitant but at least the right language this time. (Hello, sir. I ordered a coffee and it's cold. I would like a new one, free of charge.)
"Si vous voulez un autre café, vous le paierez. Ce n'est pas de notre faute si tu ne l'as pas bu pendant que c'était," the instructor replied, her French rapid and without remorse. (If you want another coffee, you will pay for it. It's not our fault you didn't drink it while it was hot.)
There was a pause, then the witch responded. "Il ne faisait pas chaud au début!" (It wasn't hot to start with!)
"Vous avez commandé un café glacé. Payerez-vous pour un chaud ou non?" (You ordered an iced coffee. Will you pay for a hot one or not?)
"Amende. Vous recevrez votre paiement une fois que j'aurai reçu ma nouvelle boisson." (Fine. You will receive your payment once I receive my new drink.)
Pausing the recording, Pansy set the two discs side by side and replayed the words, checking the intonement and voices were the same.
Vous recevrez votre paiement une fois la livraison terminée (You will receive your payment once the delivery has been completed)
Vous recevrez votre paiement une fois que j'aurai reçu ma nouvelle boisson (You will receive your payment once I receive my new drink)
Bloody hell, she was right; it was the same witch.
Flicking her wand for the recording disc to return to the box, the box to shrink back to a folder, and the folder to return to the filing cabinet, Pansy headed to her office door as fast as her legs would allow.
"Lin, in my office, now."
To her credit, Lin didn't look fazed by Pansy's urgent tone or request. She nodded, ended the firecall she was on abruptly and without a word of goodbye, and followed Pansy into her office. The door closed behind her and the silencing charms activated.
"I need a list of all current agents and their whereabouts. Activate all of the trackers to find their precise locations."
It was a matter of security that Pansy couldn't activate the trackers herself. Even though her job wasn't exactly well-known, there was always the risk of the wrong people finding out exactly who she was and what she did. The ex-Minister of Magic was a clear example of someone being paid enough Galleons to betray her, Cloffice, and the wizarding world, after all. Therefore, if someone attempted to kidnap or torture her as a result of this knowledge, then Pansy couldn't give up the locations of her agents and they would remain safe.
"Yes, ma'am," Lin said, flicking her wand to reveal a map of the Muggle world overlaid by one of the wizarding world.
It took a moment of concentration before red dots started to appear. The ones closest to them appeared first: Neville in Hogwarts; Dennis in Hogsmeade; Draco and Blaise were still on St. Anne's island. Across the Channel, Ginevra's tracker lit up in France. The tracker that had been in Skeleton was no longer active, and Pansy wouldn't be surprised to find a new scar on Skeleton as a result. Then, another tracker appeared in France, and it was one that was definitely not meant to be there.
Ignoring the other dots that appeared to show the other trackers across the world, Pansy pointed to the additional French dot. "That one. What's her current assignment?"
Lin looked at the name and frowned. "She's meant to be in Liechtenstein, dealing with the Troll Rights Movement."
"What was the last report she sent in?"
"Negotiations were going well; she needed more time to oversee the treaty."
Pansy cursed under her breath. "Send someone to Liechtenstein, check on the movement and make sure no one's been decapitated yet. When have you ever heard of negotiations for Troll rights going well in Liechtenstein?"
Lin winced. "Yes, ma'am. Should I do anything about the fact she's in France instead?"
"Send an owl asking for an update; she should go back to Lichtenstein and leave Ginevra alone for at least one more day. I'll let Ginevra know so her cover isn't blown when she contacts me tomorrow night to see how Skeleton's rescue went."
"Yes, ma'am. I'll send you an updated report about Liechtenstein myself," Lin said firmly, the map and dots disappearing with a thought.
"Thank you, Lin."
Pansy waited until Lin had left before she retrieved the soon-to-be former agent's file once more. She needed to find out how the bloody hell that witch had got into Cloffice.
...
Ginny wanted to stand and pace, but she was acutely aware of the recording discs around Jacques' apartment. Not only would he be suspicious about her pacing, he'd worry about her using her energy before they even left for Avenir. Still, her nerves were there and making themselves known through the tapping of her leg. It was Friday and today was the day Skeleton and the children were meant to be rescued from the Unplottable school. Ginny had no idea who was doing the rescuing, what time it would happen, or any other details than the ones she'd been given from Pansy when she first found Skeleton, and she found that not knowing was a horrible feeling. What if something went wrong? What if Skeleton was killed or the children were hurt or -
Stop it already. Draco and Blaise trust you to do your job. You need to trust other Cloffice agents in the same way. No one would get through their probation without having the skills they need to survive in this job, let alone plan and execute a rescue mission successfully. Remember the Training Centre with the Rackbones? Everyone has to pass that scenario, just like you did. Skeleton will be fine, and so will the kids, Ginevra said, her voice firm.
Ginny didn't point out that there was still a seed of doubt and concern despite her certainty, and simply left the bathroom to go to the kitchen where Jacques was waiting.
"Ah, tu es là. Je pensais que tu t'étais endormi là-dedans. Tu as eu une nuit agitée, belle," Jacques said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. (Ah, there you are. I thought you'd fallen asleep in there. You had a restless night, beautiful.)
"Je suis désolé. Est-ce que je t'ai réveillé?" Amelie asked, apologetically. (I'm sorry. Did I wake you?)
Ginny hoped she hadn't talked in her sleep and said anything to make Jacques suspicious.
"Non non. Tu m'as donné un coup de pied, mais je suis toujours en vie," Jacques said with a grin. (No, no. You did kick me, but I am still alive.)
Ginevra smirked viciously. Next time, we're kneeing him in the balls and blaming it on a nightmare.
Ginny's mouth quirked in amusement.
Amelie covered her smile with her hand. "Je suis content de voir ça. Avons-nous le temps de prendre le petit-déjeuner ou est-ce que je nous ai mis en retard?" (I am glad to see that. Do we have time for breakfast or did I make us late?)
"Nous avons le temps pour le café; J'achèterai notre petit déjeuner quand nous serons à Avenir." (We have time for coffee; I will buy our breakfast when we are at Avenir.)
Buying breakfast meant he would go to the small café across the road, which could give her at least fifteen minutes of peace. She might finally figure out how he came and went without leaving his office. He didn't have the same books and beakers that Etienne had used in the previous Avenir building, but she was sure there was a sequence or spell that would reveal a hidden doorway or workspace.
"Merci, Jacques." (Thank you, Jacques.)
...
Marcel was going to throw up. He couldn't Apparate to the school again without drawing suspicion for his absence, but he desperately wanted to know what was happening. He was contemplating knocking himself out with a Sleeping Draught just so he could sleep through the next twenty-four hours without constantly worrying, when Jacques and Amelie arrived at Avenir.
He rushed over to them before he truly thought about it, and stopped abruptly when the couple looked at him in varying degrees of surprise and concern. "Joyeux anniversaire." (Happy birthday.)
Amelie's eyes widened. Was it her birthday already? Or was he referring to Jacques? When was Amelie's birthday, again? Merlin, when was Jacques' birthday?
" J'ai pensé que tu aimerais fêter ton anniversaire cette année, maintenant qu'Amélie est de retour avec nous," Marcel added. (I thought you might like to celebrate your birthday this year, now that Amelie is back with us.)
"Je n'avais pas réalisé la date. Je ne t'ai pas offert de cadeau. Je suis désolé, Jacques." (I didn't realise the date. I didn't get you a gift. I am sorry, Jacques.)
"Ne t'inquiète pas, belle. Ta présence ici est tout le cadeau dont j'ai besoin. Je vais prendre notre petit-déjeuner pendant que tu parles avec Marcel et quelle que soit la surprise qu'il a prévue." (Don't worry, beautiful. You being here is all the gift I need. I'll get our breakfast while you talk with Marcel and whatever surprise he's planned.)
Marcel forced himself to grin. "S'il vous plaît, prenez votre temps, monsieur." (Please, take your time, sir.)
Jacques raised an eyebrow at his theatrics, but nodded and left the building for the café.
"Vite, avant qu'il ne revienne," Ginny murmured. (Quick, before he comes back.) "Avez-vous réellement organisé quelque chose pour son anniversaire?" she asked once they were in Jacques' office, the door closed firmly. (Did you actually organise anything for his birthday?)
Marcel nodded. "Oui, du gâteau et des ballons. Pas de cadeaux, cependant. Il a été une baguette dans la boue sur l'utilisation de l'argent de l'Avenir pour des célébrations inutiles," he said, clearly quoting Jacques and not impressed. (Yes, cake and balloons. No presents, though. He's been a wand in the mud about using Avenir money for unnecessary celebrations) "J'ai dû acheter le gâteau et les ballons avec mes faucilles durement gagnées, alors je mérite la plus grosse part." (I had to buy the cake and balloons with my hard-earned Sickles, so I deserve the biggest slice.)
Ginny finished the privacy spell and set her wand aside. "The spell's done, you can breathe now, Marcel," she said, and her friend seemed to crumple before her eyes.
"Comment es-tu si calme? Je suis une épave." (How are you so calm? I'm a wreck.)
"I'm nervous, but I trust my colleagues. They'll keep them all safe."
"Et moi dans tout ça? Je ne pense pas y avoir laissé de trace de ma signature magique, mais et si Jacques le découvrait quand même? Qui me gardera en sécurité?" Marcel asked, starting to pace the office back and forth. (And what about me? I don't think I left any trace of my magical signature there, but what if Jacques finds out anyway? Who will keep me safe?)
"Je le ferai," Ginny said firmly. (I will.)
Marcel scoffed gently. "Vous avez été torturé il y a un mois et pouvez à peine marcher certains jours. Tout cela n'est pas un acte, je peux le dire." (You were tortured a month ago and can barely walk some days. Not all of that is an act, I can tell.)
"And yet, I'll still keep you safe. I promise, Marcel, Jacques won't find out - "
There was a flash of red around them, the single second warning that Ginny's spell provided, and Marcel's eyes widened in fear.
" - à propos de la fête d'anniversaire," Amelie finished, just as the door swung open. (- about the birthday party.)
"Jacques, chéri? Oh, il n'est pas encore là?" the woman asked, looking between Amelie and Marcel with a frown. (Jacques, darling? Oh, is he not here yet?) "Que faites-vous dans son bureau?" (What are you doing in his office?)
Amelie couldn't respond. Ginevra was in a state of shock, and Ginny's words were caught in her throat. The witch who'd called Jacques darling last time was standing in the doorway yet again, and Ginny knew her.
...
George's patience was worn so thin that he was certain he'd be able to thread it through the world's tiniest needle. Not only were Alexandre and the witch who'd tried to kill him working together, now they were running twenty minutes late. George didn't like his time to be wasted, so he was contemplating whether to hex them first and ask questions later, or to be lenient and ask why first.
Alexandre's never tardy like this, mate. Want to bet it's the witch's fault? Fred asked with a grin.
Before George could respond, there was an Apparation popping sound, and Alexandre and the witch finally arrived.
"Alexandre, you're late. You're also late. I can't reprimand you personally since I didn't get your name the last time we met; it's sort of difficult to be introduced properly when you're trying to kill me," George added to the witch.
"Louisa. I wasn't trying to kill you, you were in my way," she said, arms folded over her chest, and glaring at him.
"You were trying to kill the person I was trying to save. Let's not argue about the past, shall we? Unless, of course, you have one of those Time Turners on you?" he said as he indicated for them both to sit down in the booth across from him.
Alexandre sat, his eyes wide. "You know about the Time Turners?"
"Do I know about Time Turners in general, or do you actually have them on you? Or are you referring to Avery's Time Turners with the mysterious witch?" George asked, glad he'd had the foresight to put a privacy charm up before they'd arrived.
Louisa paled at Avery's name, so George figured they knew something.
"Yes, that one. I always forget his name, he uses so many aliases these days! It doesn't help when his Glamours are so weak," Alexandre scoffed, rolling his eyes.
George tapped his wand on the table impatiently. "Tell me something I don't know or give me something I can use, Alexandre."
"I know how to read the shipment arrival posts. In the Daily Prophet," he added quickly.
George's wand stilled. "The Daily Prophet, really? For every wizard and their Crup to read?"
"It's not written in bold letters; it's a code," Louisa said.
Alexandre nodded. "In the personal advertisements, so no one looks closely."
"And you both cracked it while playing the Prophet's daily puzzles together? Why didn't you tell anyone... ah, you were planning on using it to escape?" George asked.
Alexandre's cheeks reddened but he nodded once more. "We're not going to now. My wife... she's not afraid anymore."
Fred snorted in the back of George's mind. Giving them an Unplottable apartment was a stroke of genius; you'll have to tell Pansy later.
"And you? What changed your mind?" George asked Louisa.
She shrugged. "You guys pay me regularly; it's better than the random payments I used to get, if I got anything at all. It's difficult to live when you don't know where your next Sickle's coming from."
So that's how to get unwavering loyalty: a steady job and an Unplottable apartment! Fred said, laughing.
George almost rolled his eyes. You realise that's basically what we're getting for working at Cloffice, too? An apartment and a job?
Fred's laughter faded. Well, fuck me, you're right.
"Let me get a copy of the latest Prophet; are these ads regular?" George asked, waving down a waiter. "Do you have a copy of today's Daily Prophet, by any chance?"
The waiter seemed surprised by his request, but nodded. "Yes, there's one in the staff room."
"Excellent; can I borrow it for a moment? Just need to settle a bet with my friends here," George said, grinning broadly.
The waiter agreed to get it, still looking quite confused, but returned shortly and set the Daily Prophet on the table. George tried not to roll his eyes at the photo of Harry Potter and Cho standing together, his arms curled around her stomach protectively. It was a photo of the original photograph that was used in The Quibbler, and everyone knew it; you could see Rita's hands right there, for Merlin's sake!
"Personal ads, in the back," Alexandre directed once the curious waiter had left.
"This one, here," Louisa pointed to one of the ads. "Lonely wizard seeking witch; your personal past doesn't matter, only our future. Interested in meeting me? Message grate 063110."
George frowned. "How'd you know it's that one?"
"No grates start with zero, it's a date: 31st of October, 2006. Plus, all that stuff about the past and future refers to the Time Turners. This one is Avery reaching out about the next shipment. There'll be an ad tomorrow with the lonely witch responding with the time and place."
"Ah, shit," George groaned.
"What?" Alexandre asked, nervous or worried that their information had upset George.
"This means I'll have to start buying the Prophet again. I only just cancelled that subscription. All right, now, let's get back to the proper reporting. Oh, and the reason you were both late," he added.
"It's his fault," Louisa said, glowering.
"No, it's not! It was Alice; she insisted I bring this for you, but it needed to finish cooling. You know she doesn't work with cooling spells when it comes to her baking," Alexandre said, sighing heavily before reaching into his robe, and setting a heavy tin of biscuits on the table.
"Alice baked biscuits for me?" George asked brightly; Alice's biscuits were delicious and she didn't make them for just anybody.
Alexandre sighed again and nodded. "Oui. As a thank you for the apartment, and for keeping an old man safe," he said, gesturing to himself and looking embarrassed.
"Well, I won't say no to Alice's biscuits. Ooh, they're iced, too?! Excellent! Here, after you. You have to try your wife's cooking," George prompted, offering the tin to both Alexandre and Louisa.
"They're not poisoned; Alice likes you," Alexandre said, taking a biscuit.
Louisa paused mid-bite, looking alarmed.
"I know that; I was just being polite. Go on and eat it, already. See, Alexandre's eating his," George said, nodding to where the wizard was polishing his biscuit off and looking hopeful for a second.
Figuring he could add biscuits as another way to inspire loyalty, George left the tin open on the table and took a few for himself before he nodded for Alexandre and Louisa to report in.
...
End of the forty-eighth chapter.
Thanks for reading; I hope you liked it!