At seven o'clock, it was finally dinner time.
Two tables groaned under the weight of the mouthwatering dishes Mrs. Weasley had prepared.
Jane Yu felt a blissful warmth in her heart.
Compared to the meals at Hogwarts, this was like heaven and earth!
At least the meat here was perfectly cleaned of any gamey flavor, making her unable to resist taking another bite of steak.
Percy, however, seemed to have his mind elsewhere, likely preoccupied with thoughts of standardized quality management.
"Have some more, dear," Mrs. Weasley said warmly, piling another piece of pie onto Jane's plate. Her plate was already stacked so high it resembled a small mountain.
"I'm terribly sorry that we don't have enough rooms, so you'll have to share with Ginny—"
Their conversation snapped Percy out of his thoughts. After an afternoon of chatting, he had unilaterally decided that Jane was his confidante—
Especially since she was also a mutual friend of his and Penelope's!
In fact, he had even revealed his plans for proposing to Penelope!
Not enough rooms? His room could absolutely be given up!
"It's no problem at all, Mum," he said seriously. "Ginny can have my room, and I'll stay in the second-floor study. That way, Jane can have Ginny's room to herself. Besides, my cauldron reports and standardization proposal—"
Ginny immediately clamped a hand over his mouth, looking as if she were about to explode.
She was utterly despairing.
The boys in the Weasley family, from Percy to Ron—were they all so dense?
Especially Percy. With emotional intelligence like this, how did he even manage to get a girlfriend?
Luckily, Mr. Weasley came to the rescue, saving Percy from suffocation.
"How's your cauldron report coming along?"
Percy's eyes lit up, and he immediately launched into a monologue:
"Jane has been incredibly supportive. I've already got a plan. Starting today, as long as I don't sleep, I can finish it ahead of schedule by next Tuesday."
"I think Mr. Crouch will be very pleased with my efficiency, especially with how busy things have been lately. Our department has been preparing for the World Cup."
"We haven't been receiving the support we need from the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Ludo Bagman—"
After Mr. Weasley expressed his fondness for Ludo Bagman, the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, Percy dismissed it:
"Well, compared to Mr. Crouch, he's not even close—he doesn't even send people to look for his own staff. Bertha Jorkins has been missing in Albania for over a month! If it were in our department, Mr. Crouch would have investigated immediately..."
They spent some time complaining about Bertha's terrible memory.
"Ludo got me some excellent tickets, but for some reason... there are an unusually large number of people from Hogwarts going to the match this year."
"He said many people are clamoring to add 'Quidditch' to the competition. I don't understand; aren't we already watching a Quidditch match?"
Although Mr. Weasley found this puzzling, he continued:
"As a result, I didn't get many tickets—only five. Fortunately, I managed to secure five more through a favor, but it cost me."
This was when Jane's extra tickets finally came in handy.
She had initially planned to return the surplus tickets but was refused and told to give them to those in need.
However, her friends all seemed to already have tickets, leaving only those who weren't interested.
In the end, she had only given one ticket to Hermione.
The Weasleys, young and old, were dumbfounded as Jane pulled out seven or eight tickets from her pocket.
"This... this..." Mr. Weasley was stunned as she handed him five tickets. "How is this possible?"
He quickly reached for his wallet, trying to give her some Galleons.
"No need, you're too kind," Jane said, a plan forming in her mind to address her business partner's dilemma between pursuing a government job and starting a business. "You may have heard, Fred and George and I are working on a project together."
"If it succeeds, it could be a goldmine. Every retailer in Britain might end up sourcing from our shop."
"These tickets are just a small token, an advance on their partnership dividends."
Mr. Weasley was so shocked he dropped his wallet.
Mrs. Weasley's spatula fell into the pot with a clatter.
"Them? Running a joke shop? Across all of Britain?" she asked incredulously. "How is that possible? The number of owls flying in from Hogwarts to complain about them outnumbers everyone else's combined—if they don't mend their ways, they'll end up in the Misuse of Magic Office—"
"Oh—Mum—" Fred and George said in unison, "Do you really want to see your sons arrested and sent to prison?"
Fred wiped away imaginary tears, choking up as he said:
"We never thought—our own mother—would want to meet us in Azkaban—"
"Shut up!" Mrs. Weasley roared. "Don't let me hear another word from you two!"
"Oh, ma'am, I think you've misunderstood them," Jane continued to soothe her. "In fact, the remaining competitors in the joke shop market, like Zonko's and Gambol and Japes, are already on the decline. You know, their products haven't been updated in ages—"
"But we're different. The products we're developing, like fake wands, have already demonstrated their competitiveness at school. They overshadow the joke products on the market. Based on our calculations, if we successfully open a shop, we could dominate this market—"
Mrs. Weasley stared in a daze.
"Fred and George have a real talent for developing joke products and a keen business sense. We've even finalized the shop's location—"
Mrs. Weasley looked at her twin sons with a mix of shock and newfound recognition.
"Is... is this true?" she asked, feeling disoriented. "This is the first time I've heard anyone praise them... Merlin's beard..."
She dropped her spatula and sank into a chair, wiping her eyes:
"All the news from school has been bad... terrible O.W.L. results... complaints from students and professors flooding the Burrow... constant mischief..."
"I thought they wouldn't even graduate... with such a track record... who would hire them? I was afraid they wouldn't be able to support themselves—"
George, dissatisfied, tapped his fork against his plate:
"Mum—we told you—this has been our dream since we were kids—"
"Shut up!" Mrs. Weasley roared again. "Don't make me slap you in front of Jane—!"
Mr. Weasley put an arm around her shoulders, gently comforting her.
After a while, she calmed down, wiped her face, and gave Jane a smile:
"Thank you, dear. Look how thin you are; I need to make you two more dishes—"
Her warm hand patted Jane's cheek before she fled to the kitchen.
Soon, Jane's plate was piled so high it was almost at eye level.
For the first time in Britain, she experienced the sensation of being so full it reached her throat.
She was practically rolling her eyes from the discomfort.
Fortunately, Fred and George came to her rescue under their mother's stern command, "Don't you dare take food from the girl!"
Thus, she narrowly avoided the fate of being stuffed to death.
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