Summer finished out with somewhat of a ruckus. News had gotten out that Azkaban Prison had lost one of it's inmates, a former follower of Voldemort. Everyone on the streets was getting to be rather nervous. Even the customers from Knockturn Alley looked as if there was something out there they didn't want to deal with. If that wasn't bad enough, it looked as if the row behind his shop had acquired a new stray. On and off for several nights, the rubbish bins were clearly rummaged through by something very large.
When Eric inquired about it, Mrs. Peal just dismissed it. "Stray dogs come and go. If you leave it be, it'll move on. It might be a good idea to bespell your cans shut, though. The collectors are used to this, and will disenchant them in the morning." Eric gave the message to Willy, who dutifully complied.
Carpentry orders were coming through as fast as he could put them out. In addition to his shop work, he often would make calls to repair built-in cabinets. Willy quickly proved to be worth more than Eric could imagine; for when word got out that he traveled with a house-elf, he found that any job could be taken or refused in absolute security. The extra set of eyes watching for his safety while he worked was more security than most living on Diagon Alley could hope to have.
The increasing number of students walking through the Alley was the first signs that school was coming. Eric waved to his fellow Ravenclaws, helped the Hufflepuffs, shook hands with the Gryffindors, and avoided the Slytherins. In the midst of all this he finally found Dorian Moon – his friend, confidant and ally.
Dorian, however, was in rather a state as he quickly ran to Eric. "Have you seen the textbook for Magical Creatures? It bites!"
"Don't you think that's a little hasty? Maybe it isn't the best written textbook ever, but you could hardly have had a chance to give it a proper reading."
Dorian waved his hands. "No; I mean it bites, as in you reach for it and it snaps at you!"
Eric had to smile. "That's hardly a surprise. Have you heard the news? After having his record cleared, Hagrid has become an instructor. He's teaching 'Magical Creatures'." Hagrid had been by a month ago, beaming with the news. Although he never actually finished at Hogwarts, Dumbledore felt that his years of experience as groundskeeper next to the Forbidden Forest and his overall knowledge of every kind of creature imaginable more than qualified him for the position. The school governors could hardly argue, since there wasn't exactly a large number of instructors seeking the position. Truth be told, the position of Magical Creatures Instructor was considered the only rival to Defense Against the Dark Arts as Hogwarts' Most Hazardous Posting.
Hagrid, however, was sure to skew that curve. Over the years Eric had seen dozens of extremely large and deadly creatures take swipes, stabs, and bites at Hagrid, only to find the Groundskeeper shrug it off. He didn't know what magic protected his guardian; Eric only knew that Hagrid appeared practically impervious to physical attack ( a fact that made up for his tendency to curl up in tears when things don't work out as he'd like them to ).
The fact that his adoptive guardian was now an instructor filled Eric with a mixture of pride and amused foreboding. While it was true that no one could possibly know more about enchanted creatures than Hagrid, it was also true that ( due primarily to his own personal fortitude and a heart full of love for all living beings ) he had a tendency to overlook minor details such as poison stingers, flaming breath, or foot-long fangs. Having armed himself with evenings given to defense and redirective spells, Eric looked forward to the coming year the way the more sadistic Quidditch fans look forward to a spectacular collision.
Having the afternoon to travel about, the two boys made the rounds, obtaining what materials they could carry for the upcoming year, examining the new items in the stores. Dorian paused particularly long at Quality Quidditch, where the new Firebolt was being displayed. "It's awesome!"
Eric examined it carefully. "That's a heavy compliment for something you haven't tried. They've streamlined it quite a bit, but the handle is getting narrow. Personally, I'd prefer the wider grip of the Nimbus. The Firebolt is a broom for someone who puts all their money on speed."
Dorian looked at Eric incredulously. "I suppose you could do better?"
Eric thought for a minute, then drew his friend aside. "You'd want ebonwood – mostly for appearance, but also for control – it's not springy or spongy, so your directives will get an instant response. Band the brush in four places to keep the shape or else you'll be getting drag. Now, the brush can be about a quarter diameter larger than that one: the drag on a well-kept broom is mostly based on the rider, so the brush can be big enough to slipstream behind him. With a large enough brush, you won't need the stirrups of the newer Nimbus."
Dorian looked at him. "You could make such a broom, couldn't you?"
"Maybe. I'm thinking of going into that when I graduate – custom crafted enchanted items. There's always a compromise when someone makes something that can be purchased. The best wizards can afford something made to order, and there may be good money to be had."
The two of them made their way back to the carpentry shop, discussing the possibilities of life after Hogwarts. When they arrived, however, they found a rather large crowd milling in front of his display window. Introducing himself a few times, he was able to part the group enough to reach the front door, which was flanked by two very serious looking wizards in black robes. Mister Blott was the first to shed any light on the situation. "I don't know what kind of trouble you've gotten into, my boy, but I suggest you own up to it. There are some very important people perusing your shop right now." Taking this unclear warning to heart, Eric stepped forward and introduced himself to the wizards at his door, who gestured that he was to enter immediately.
Inside the shop, he was met by a rather unusual group. Cornelius Fudge was standing in the entryway, flanked on either side by a pair of associates. They were facing off with a rather defiant Willy, who had blocked entry to any of the other rooms by levitating almost everything he could find. Hammers and chisels floated ominously in one entry while kitchen utensils dutifully defended the residential rooms.
Eric amused himself briefly with the scene before intervening. "Um, I don't mean to interrupt, but what may I ask is going on in my shop?"
The Ministry group turned to face Eric. To the left was Arthur Weasley, looking almost apologetic in his stance. To the right was a roundish woman. However, it was Fudge who answered first. "Ah, Mister Sable. May I present Inspector Delores Umbridge of the Ministry for Magical Abuses, and I believe you have met Arthur Weasley of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Ministry."
Eric's face crooked into an expression mixed of pleasant introductions and confusion. "Ma'am, Mister Weasley, it's a pleasure to meet both of you. May I know why I have such a distinguished group in my shop? If it's about an order, I'm afraid I can't take any more. I'm about to close up for the school year."
The woman spoke up, with a motherly voice that was most irritating in a patronizing sort of way. "I'm afraid not, Mister Sable. You see, we at the Ministry believe that you have been casting spells within your shop that violate the statutes against underage use of magic."
Not knowing how much they were aware of, Eric decided to open with a strong offense. "I trust the Inspector is aware that I am licensed to practice magic within the walls of this shop?"
"Indeed I am. However, what kind of magic you've been practicing is what interests us today. That is why we have come to inspect your shop."
Eric thought again. Arthur was looking about, sheepish and extremely nervous. From what he had heard from Knockturn Alley, Arthur Weasley's stature was deceiving. His fervor for his work was legendary, and his willingness to stand up to the most imposing of opponents was well known. This was more than rivaled by his ability to take care of himself. If he wasn't looking like he wanted a confrontation, that means that they probably didn't have just cause, proper warrants, or even a real good reason for being there.
While all this would put Eric in a position of power, perhaps the offensive wasn't the best stance in this case. "Willy, clear the entries for these good people. Minister Fudge, I have nothing to hide. Please, search all you like."
As the various implements found their way home, the other two ministers suddenly appeared as uneasy as Mister Weasley. Fudge spoke up for the group. "Well, thank you. I'm sure we can sort things out shortly." They proceeded to go through every room, poking and prodding every object until they came across Eric's layouts for the mnemolodion. The Inspector examined it quizzically. "What is this?"
Eric knew that lying wouldn't be helpful. However, three-quarters of the truth could pull him out of a sticky situation. "It's a paradigm for a magical device. I'm a bit ahead of my class, so I pursue extra-curricular activities on a regular basis. I'm planning to discuss the results of this one with Professor Flitwick when I return to Hogwarts."
The woman's face pulled into a tight smile. "I see. So: do you have a device produced from this diagram?"
It was the moment of truth. "No Ma'am. You see, the energies that work within these circles work against one another. A device made from this pattern wouldn't survive it's first use."
Her eyes screwed tight. "I see. Well, it's nice to see that the caliber of Hogwarts students hasn't diminished." Eric couldn't tell if she had figured out anything or not. One thing was sure, though: the remains of the mnemolodion were thrown out the same night it fell apart. They could suspect whatever they liked. The fact remained that they couldn't prove anything.
Two events occurred in rapid succession which brought the matter to a sudden close. The first was Arthur coming out from the residential rooms. "Cornelius, there's nothing here – nothing at all." The second was a shrill and angry voice tearing from the entrance. "Clear the way! I said clear the way before I split you both in HALF!" This announced that his landlady was now aware of the situation.
Fudge was quick in attempting to head Mrs. Peal off. "Now, Clareone, we had reason to believe that…"
Mrs. Peal, however, was not to be pacified, as she continued to scream at the top of her voice. "Spare me your protests of innocence and false reasons. We both know perfectly well why you're here, and it has nothing to do with Eric. Let me settle this matter for you and anyone else in hearing distance. No: Sirius Black has not contacted me. No: I have not made any arrangements for him. No: I wouldn't foster a fugitive from the law, even if I believed he was innocent. Now, are there any other questions I can answer for you, or would you rather sift through my trash?"
Cornelius and Delores shuffled uneasily, while Arthur shuffled to the rear to hide a smirk. With a parting comment of, "Well, I think we're done here," The Minister gestured for his co-workers to exit the shop. The crowd parted for the group of them, mumbling about what Clareone meant by an innocent fugitive and why the Minister would lie to search a carpentry shop.
Mrs. Peal, however, was unconsoled. "Of all the insolent, irresponsible, foolish things to do. As if I would involve you or any minor in an illegal activity. That man's brains have been addled." She sighed and turned to the door. "I have some errands to sort out, but we'll talk this evening."
As she left, Eric made his way into his parlor and collapsed, relieved that the whole matter was over. His relief was suddenly cut off by a soft voice. "She was right – his visit had nothing to do with you at all." Eric spun about to see a hooded figure sitting by a small table being served a cup of tea by Willy. As the cup was lifted to the hood, Eric saw just enough to inform him that Naomi Wainwright had come to visit.
"Is it safe?" Dorian Moon's head peered through the entrance. Now that the crowd had dispersed, Eric was relieved to find that his friend hadn't abandoned him. Willy brought out a small cup of chilled cider, which he gratefully accepted. With his circle of friends gathered in his parlor, Eric hoped that things would calm down briefly enough for him to enjoy the moment.