“What, you’re going to France?” As soon as Kyle spoke, everyone at the table turned to look at him.

“Yeah,” Kyle nodded. “Why? Is there a problem?”

“No, not really.” Chris shook his head. He was just about to say something when a loud, explosion-like sound cut him off.

“Mum, we're back!”

Bill and Charlie came in from the garden.

“Kyle's here too—long time no see,” Charlie said with a wave.

“Long time no see,” Kyle replied, giving a wave of his wand and turning the stones beside him into two chairs.

“Thanks.” The two of them sat down and asked, “What were you guys talking about?”

“Some upcoming plans,” Kyle said. “I’m planning to take a trip to France.”

“To see Kanna?”

It was no surprise that Bill, a Weasley with twelve O.W.L.s, figured it out right away.

As soon as he said it, the others caught on... Right, Kanna was in France now. No wonder Kyle wanted to go.

“Yeah.”

Kyle didn’t deny it. He nodded and said, “There’s nothing pressing going on right now, and I’ve got some free time.”

Ever since the incident in Godric’s Hollow, the Death Eaters had been keeping a low profile. No one knew what they were plotting, but there was no point in rushing things. It made more sense to take advantage of the current calm to deal with personal matters.

There was also the situation at Hogwarts—Professor McGonagall had made it clear: if Dumbledore still hadn’t returned by Halloween, Kyle would need to make an appearance.

But it was only early September. Halloween was still a long way off.

With no movement from the Death Eaters and Dumbledore’s task not being urgent, Kyle figured now was a good time to head to France.

“Going to France is fine,” Charlie said, sipping some Pumpkin Fizz, “but have you figured out how you’re getting there? It’s best if no one else finds out. Otherwise, the Death Eaters will definitely come after you.”

“Yeah,” Chris added, clearly worried. “France isn’t like here. Even if we wanted to help you, we wouldn’t be able to get there in time. And any information we get would be delayed.”

Wizards can’t just use Apparition to travel between countries—it’s a complicated process.

Every country’s Ministry of Magic has comprehensive Apparition detection systems. If you try to force your way through, you’ll be detected the moment you arrive, and Aurors will be sent to arrest you.

This actually had something to do with Newt.

Before Newt became famous, the Ministry had already been strict about unauthorized international travel, but in special circumstances, people often looked the other way—especially if the wizard had local connections. Usually, a word in the right ear was all it took.

But everything changed the moment he showed up with that suitcase.

After that, the severity of the crime of illegal entry skyrocketed. No one dared take it lightly anymore.

Of course, there was one exception.

If the person was powerful enough—like during that battle between Voldemort and Dumbledore in Austria not long ago.

That incident caused a huge stir, but not a single Ministry along their path said a word about illegal entry or magical misconduct.

They all turned a blind eye and only stepped in to quietly clean up after it was over.

But that was a special case, not something just anyone could get away with. Even when Kanna went to France, Fleur had gone with her to handle all the necessary formalities.

Fleur had explained it all in great detail in a letter to Bill, almost as if she were deliberately teaching them what to do when it was their turn.

“The most important thing is, we still don’t know if there are Death Eaters hidden in the Department of Magical Transportation,” Mr. Weasley said with a sigh. “If they leak your whereabouts…”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Kyle said with a confident smile. “No matter where I go now, the Ministry of Magic can’t track me.”

He was completely sure of this.

The Ministry’s monitoring relies on conventional methods: Apparition, Portkeys, the Floo Network.

But with the Phoenix’s help, none of those mattered. A Phoenix’s innate magic couldn’t be traced by any wizard—just like Hogwarts’ protections couldn’t hold back Fawkes.

And Kyle had never intended to go through official channels anyway.

Not only would the British Ministry have no idea—France’s wouldn’t either.

Even though France was far away and the Death Eaters’ reach likely didn’t extend that far, Kyle still preferred to be cautious.

After all, he had directly or indirectly killed seventy Death Eaters—and one of Voldemort’s top lieutenants, Bellatrix Lestrange. It never hurt to be careful.

“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.” Kyle waved a hand, brushing the topic aside.

He turned to Bill. “Where did you two go? Why are you back so late?”

“Charlie was checking the area around Grimmauld Place for signs of Death Eaters,” Bill replied. “Since it's the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, we have to make absolutely sure it’s secure.”

“As for me... I got in touch with a few former colleagues.”

“Your colleagues…” Kyle paused to think. “The goblins at Gringotts?”

Bill had previously worked as a Curse-Breaker for Gringotts, but after Voldemort’s return, he’d resigned and joined the Order of the Phoenix. He hadn’t taken on any other job since then.

Thinking about it now, his “colleagues” could only be goblins.

“I was about to ask,” Mr. Weasley said, looking anxiously at Bill. “Is there any news from Gringotts?”

“Nothing obvious for now,” Bill shook his head. “Someone did mention that the Death Eaters have been in contact with the goblins, but Gringotts has officially refused to cooperate with them.”

“Well, of course they did,” Charlie said, taking a bite of his fried cutlet. “If the goblins sided with the Death Eaters, half the vaults down there would be emptied overnight. Those goblins are cunning as hell—if they ever did make a deal, they certainly wouldn’t let anyone else know.”

“That may be true… but Mum, shouldn’t we take our money out of Gringotts?” Fred turned to Mrs. Weasley. “I just don’t think it’s safe leaving it in a goblin vault.”

“Just keep track of your own coins…” Mrs. Weasley said, her expression a bit awkward. “Don’t worry about the family finances. I’ll take care of it.”

Back when they were living at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, they didn’t have to spend much on food, and with most of the kids having graduated, they’d actually managed to save up a little.

That money had gone toward Harry’s coming-of-age gift.

Now that she thought about it, the Weasley family’s vault at Gringotts probably had nothing left but a few silver Sickles. If the Death Eaters wanted that, they were welcome to it.

Of course, Mrs. Weasley would never say that in front of the children, so she glossed over it with a vague response.

Kyle and Chris, however, didn’t seem particularly concerned.

Kyle had never really kept money in Gringotts. He did have a vault there—opened before he started at Hogwarts—mostly just for the novelty of it.

He remembered putting in three Sickles and nine Knuts at the time.

That money had probably sat there untouched ever since… or maybe not. It had been so long that Kyle wasn’t sure anymore, but he was certain it didn’t total more than a single Galleon.

As for Chris… he genuinely didn’t care, mainly because he understood goblins.

If the goblins ever really sided with the Death Eaters, it would be equivalent to Gringotts openly supporting Voldemort.

First off, the Ministry of Magic would never allow that. Even the slightest sign of it would prompt the Aurors to storm in and seize control.

And more importantly, no witch or wizard would willingly put their Galleons into the hands of the Death Eaters. It might be easy to deposit the money—but good luck getting it back.

So if any hint of such a situation arose, the smartest move would be to withdraw your money early. The goblins at Gringotts were not the type to make such a basic blunder.

They could only—and had to—stay neutral, just like St. Mungo’s.

And with their power and cunning, unless there were extraordinary circumstances, no wizard would want to go to war with them.

There’d be no reason to.

...

Everyone kept chatting, and it was over an hour before they finally finished dinner.

Mrs. Weasley and a few of the children carried the empty plates back into the Burrow. On the way, Fred and Charlie were using their wands to make the plates duel—crashing them into each other to see which one was tougher. When Mrs. Weasley caught them, they hurried to fix the broken ones with a few quick wand flicks.

Kyle and Chris had offered to help, but were turned down, so the two of them headed back to their own home.

It was then that Kyle realized again just how long it had been since he was last back.

As soon as he opened the door, the old Kneazle came padding over and tilted its head, eyeing him curiously.

“Dad, I think Tom’s gotten fatter,” Kyle said, frowning.

At this point, Tom looked like a walking carpet, sprawled out across the floor.

But Kyle had forgotten—Kneazles were clever magical creatures. A clear sign of their intelligence was that they could understand human speech.

Sure enough, Kyle suddenly felt something heavy roll over his foot.

“Nothing we could do,” Chris said with a helpless shrug. “You’ve been away for years, and we’ve both been so busy with work we haven’t had time to look after him.”

“Wouldn’t that make him lose weight?” Kyle asked, puzzled.

“He finds food on his own,” Chris said. “Doesn’t matter where I hide the jerky—he always manages to sniff it out and eat every last bit... And the birds in the nearby woods? He’s nearly hunted them to extinction.”

“He can still catch birds like that—ouch!”

Kyle flinched as something stepped on his foot again.

“Easily,” Chris said. “He’s still a Kneazle, after all. And it’s mostly his fur—it’s grown longer, so he just looks bigger than he is.”

As he spoke, Chris shrugged off his coat and hung it on the nearby rack.

From Kyle’s chest pocket, the Bowtruckle he always carried crawled out and leapt onto a potted plant beside the stairs.

This Bowtruckle had been raised by Kyle since he was young. It was small enough that he could even bring it to school without being noticed.

“When are you heading to France?” Chris asked.

“Tomorrow.”

“In such a rush?”

“If something comes up, I can delay it a few days.”

“No, that’s not necessary,” Chris said. “But you have to promise me—you’ll keep the Phoenix with you at all times. If anything feels off, run. Don’t hesitate.”

“Relax. I know what I’m doing.”

They talked a bit longer, then Chris sent Kyle upstairs to his bedroom.

Even though he hadn’t been back in a long time, the room was spotless—no dust at all.

Kyle lay down on the bed and quickly fell asleep.

And just like that, morning came.

When Kyle came downstairs after waking up, Chris had already gone to the Ministry of Magic.

Kyle grabbed a few slices of toast and ham to make a quick sandwich, then gathered a large handful of Lady’s Mantle for Fawkes.

This herb was one of Fawkes’ favorite foods and also a key ingredient in Baruffio’s Brain Elixir and the Vitality Potion—more expensive than even mandrake root.

But this was an international trip, and Fawkes had helped him many times already. It was only right to be generous for once.

Once Fawkes had eaten his fill, Kyle gently stroked the feathers at the base of his tail.

“I’m counting on you.”

Fawkes, having just finished a hearty meal, had no objections. He spread his wings and grasped Kyle by the shoulders.

...

Maybe it was the distance, but Kyle felt like the spinning this time lasted longer than ever.

Even though he was gradually getting used to traveling by Phoenix, it was still hard to endure.

In a daze, he felt solid ground beneath his feet again, and the buzzing in his ears started to fade back into recognizable sound.

Well—buzzing, yes. But the words were completely incomprehensible.

Kyle stood still for a while before slowly opening his eyes.

He had arrived in France, in a narrow alley off a street in Paris. Just a short distance ahead was a bustling road full of people.

The street was crowded with passersby, but no one seemed to notice the sudden appearance of this uninvited visitor.

Kyle stepped out of the alley and onto the main street—only to realize, rather suddenly, that he might not have thought things through.

He had no idea where he was going.

Which, in all fairness, made sense. This was technically his first time in France... well, second time, but the last time Nicolas had arranged a direct trip, and Kyle hadn’t needed to navigate anything himself. He’d just shown up at the destination.

This time was different. Fawkes could Apparate, yes, but he didn’t know the exact location Kyle wanted to reach. Even if Kyle had explained it to him, the Phoenix wouldn’t have known how to get there. So, the place they ended up in was, more or less, completely random.

That was awkward enough.

Worse still, Kyle’s French wasn’t exactly usable. He’d studied it briefly during the Triwizard Tournament, but being here now made it painfully clear that it wasn’t enough—not even enough to say the name of the address he was looking for.

Which meant he couldn’t even ask for directions.

“Should I use magic?” Kyle hesitated.

He didn’t know how the French Ministry of Magic operated, and he wasn’t sure if casting a spell out in the open would alert their Aurors.

But if he didn’t use magic, what was he supposed to do—go back?

Just as Kyle found himself stuck between options, he heard a noise from the alley he’d just come out of.

A man staggered out from the far end, clearly someone who’d spent the whole night drinking in a bar and was barely conscious.

“Perfect.” Kyle turned back at once and stepped in front of the man to block his path.

“Excuse me, where is the triangular building?” he asked slowly in French.

“Ugh… get lost...” the man muttered, lifting his head blearily. He mumbled what sounded like a curse.

But then his eyes flew wide open, and he seemed to sober up on the spot.

He was staring at what looked like a leopard—nearly as tall as a man.

A leopard? It had to be a leopard, but how could a leopard have six legs?

“Hello, where is the triangular building?”

Kyle repeated the question in French.

By now, the man’s sluggish brain had finally caught up.

He didn’t answer. It took him two full seconds to realize that this was the moment he was supposed to scream.

But just as he opened his mouth, the leopard’s eyes changed—from orange to a brilliant violet.

What an enchanting color… just like his favorite aged red wine.

Dazed, he felt like he was floating inside a massive wine glass. But how could there be a wine glass that big? This had to be a dream. Just like that six-legged leopard he thought he saw.

Wait, how many legs did it have again?

Thud…

A jolt of pain brought him back to reality.

He found himself lying flat on the ground, with a small crowd gathered around, pointing and whispering.

“Oh… how did I fall asleep here?” He gave his head a few light pats. “What a mess. Damn Biddy. I’m never drinking that long with him again.”

Quickly, he got to his feet, covered his face, and hurried out of the alley as if nothing had happened—seemingly having forgotten the entire encounter… or maybe just dismissing it, unconsciously, as a dream.