The familiar surroundings of Dursley Mansion materialized around Harry as he stepped out of thin air. Warm lamplight glowed against polished wood, casting soft shadows across the quiet living room.
Abigail was curled up on the sofa, a half-full bowl of blue ice cream resting in her lap, feet tucked under her like a cat. She looked up as Harry appeared, her eyes blinking with calm curiosity.
"Did Hermione's parents freak out when they saw her like that?" she asked, casually spooning another bite of ice cream.
Harry let out a tired breath and dropped onto the sofa beside her, shoulders sinking into the cushions. "They sure did. Though it was just Mr. Granger at home. He nearly had a heart attack until I explained."
He let his head fall back against the sofa and closed his eyes for a moment.
Abigail raised an eyebrow, "And he was okay after?"
"Yeah," Harry said, opening his eyes. "Told him Hermione's banned from coming back to Hogwarts for at least two days. I'm serious about that."
Abigail smirked. "You really are turning into a responsible adult."
"Don't jinx it."
He turned toward her just in time as she dipped her spoon into the ice cream and held it out.
Without a word, he leaned in and took the bite. Cold and minty with a subtle sweetness.
"Mmm… what flavour is this again?"
Abigail tilted her head, thoughtful. "I think Mr. Florean called it Gillywater Glacier?"
Harry blinked at her. "It's made with Gillywater?"
She chuckled, "No, it's just mint. He only called it that because it's blue and has a smooth, cool aftertaste. Clever naming, though."
Harry gave a lazy grin. "He's really pushing the marketing charm."
Abigail shrugged, scooping another spoonful. "Well, it worked. You just asked me what it was like three seconds ago."
There was a comfortable silence between them, the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall the only sound for a moment.
"You okay?" Abigail asked after a beat, her voice quieter now.
Harry looked at her, "Yeah, just… tired. It's been a long day."
"Long week, more like," she said, offering him the bowl.
He took it and scooped a bite. "You have no idea."
Abigail gave him a look. "I actually do."
"Fair." He paused, savoring the taste. "Thanks for being here."
Abigail's eyes softened, and she gave a small smile. "Always."
They sat in silence, side by side, sharing the last of the ice cream. The tension slowly drained from Harry's shoulders as the comfort of home—of her—wrapped around him like a blanket. During this time, Harry sent Moppy to tell Sirius that he and Abigail are back and sent Bramble to get Victor.
Just then, the front door clicked open in the distance, followed by the sound of familiar voices echoing through the hall.
"Mum and Dad are back," Abigail murmured.
Harry sighed, "Finally!"
"Honestly, Vernon," came Petunia's familiar voice, "we didn't need that armchair. The one we had was perfectly fine."
"And yet here we are, carrying a new one into the house, dear," Vernon replied, not unkindly.
They rounded the corner into the living room—and froze.
There on the couch, calm as anything, sat Harry and Abigail, half-finished bowl of blue ice cream resting on the table in front of them.
Petunia blinked. "Harry?"
"Hi, Mum," Harry said with an easy smile, setting down the spoon. "Surprise."
"Oh, stars above—" Petunia rushed forward and pulled both him and Abigail into a hug in one go. "You scared me! You two haven't been home in days! Where have you—Harry James Potter, have you lost weight again?"
Abigail gave a muffled laugh from under Petunia's arm. "Not likely Mom, he eats the food of ten people alone."
Vernon stepped in after her, his eyes warm despite the grumble in his voice. "You could've sent a note, you know. Or a bloody Patronus or something."
"I know," Harry said sheepishly as he returned the hug. "Things got a bit hectic. I just thought… it'd been a while. And I was really missing Mum's treacle tart."
Petunia pulled back, mock-glaring. "You'd better be. I had planned on baking one today. Just have to pop it in the oven."
"Already on it," Vernon said lazily, flicking his hand toward the kitchen. From within, the gentle scrape of metal echoed as the tart pan slid neatly into place with a soft clink, and the oven flared to life with a low hum.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Look at you—getting fancy with wandless magic."
Vernon gave a smug grunt, arms folding across his chest. "You're not the only one with flair, boy. Now that I've got the hang of wandless casting, don't be surprised when you start hearing stories about your old man showing off at the dueling range."
Abigail snorted into her sleeve. "What dueling range? Half of the time you don't even remember spells."
Vernon mock glared, "I do not!"
Petunia sighed, affection softening her face. "You guys are impossible."
Then she turned to Abigail, brushing a strand of hair behind the girl's ear. "Did the Weasley kids come back too?"
Abigail nodded, scooping the last of the ice cream into her mouth. "Yup. Fred and George heard Harry was heading back and jumped on the chance. Ginny came along too. They all went home after we got here—took Ron with them."
"Yeah, both him and Hermione have been pushing themselves too far for their research." Harry added, "I think they haven't slept well for a few days."
"What's their research again?" Petunia asked.
"Sorry Mum, I can't tell you that." Harry replied. "I think they should be the ones to tell you considering it's their research."
Before Petunia or Vernon could say anything further, the fireplace flared green and a soft whoosh filled the room.
Sirius stepped out of the flames, removing soot from his lock coat with a lazy flick of his wrist. His dark grey robes shifted smoothly as he moved.
"Heard my godson and goddaughter are back," he said, already smirking.
"Sirius!" Abigail bounced up from the couch and rushed to him.
He opened his arms wide and caught her, lifting her slightly. "There's my favorite chaos-caster! Still charming the socks off your professors?"
"Only the socks?" Abigail teased as he set her down.
Harry walked over and hugged him next, "For once you're early. I had just sent over Moppy a few minutes ago I think."
"Well, I couldn't wait knowing you guys are home, now could I?" Sirius replied, flopping down into one of the armchair.
A small glass of what looked like whiskey floated into his hand from mid-air. He didn't look at it. "Thanks Vern."
Vernon lifted his own glass. "You're welcome. Mind the coasters."
"You've turned into such a proper host," Sirius remarked, amused.
Vernon chuckled as he took a sip out of his glass.
Petunia moved toward the hall, pausing to kiss Harry and Abigail on the crown of their head. "I'm just popping over to the Burrow. I think we can have another big dinner today."
She vanished soundlessly with a neat snap of air, leaving no spark or trace—just the gentle swing of her shawl that settled back onto the coat hook.
Sirius whistled. "Your mum's got some seriously smooth Apparition skills."
"Funny how she's still the only adult who manages it without that little pop," Harry said with a smirk. "What happened to you guys?"
"I'm offended," Sirius replied, putting a hand over his heart. "I'll have you know I've been trying. It's not my fault the air still squeaks when I travel."
Vernon chuckled into his glass. "Told you it's all about intent. You think too loud, Sirius. Magic hears it."
"Oh, please," Sirius muttered, flicking his fingers lazily. The logs in the fireplace rearranged themselves with a thunk and flared up again with a soft fwoosh. "That was elegant."
Harry smirked, "You say that every time you nearly set the drapes on fire."
"I meant to do that," Sirius grinned.
"Yeah, yeah," Abigail retorted. "Anyways, Harry why don't we stay for a few days?"
Harry sighed, "You can't Abby. How about this, you go and attend classes and I get you home after classes and send you just before classes?"
Harry raised a brow. "You say that every time you nearly set the drapes on fire."
"I meant to do that," Sirius grinned smugly.
"Yeah, yeah," Abigail cut in, rolling her eyes with a smirk. Then, turning to Harry with hopeful eyes, she asked, "Anyways, Harry… why don't we stay here for a few days?"
Harry gave her a look—the kind older brothers save for younger sisters who were too clever for their own good. He sighed. "You can't, Abby. You don't have a permission slip to skip classes like I do."
Abigail puffed her cheeks, crossing her arms. "That's not fair."
"I know," Harry said gently. "But you're still a student. If you had the kind of clearance I do, I wouldn't mind. Honestly, I'm not staying either—got classes to teach, remember?"
Abigail huffed again but didn't argue. She knew he was right, but that didn't stop her from pouting like the world had just personally wronged her.
"How about this?" Harry offered, nudging her with a smile. "You attend your classes during the day. I'll bring you home after classes and get you back just before breakfast."
"Promise?" she asked, already perking up a little.
"Promise," he nodded, and she gave him a quick side-hug before settling back into the couch.
Just then, the fireplace roared with green flame, and the Floo flared to life. A tall figure stepped out, brushing soot from his coat. Viktor Krum emerged—casual in worn dark denims and a forest green sweater, but unmistakably exhausted. His heavy-lidded eyes looked like they'd only just opened after a restless nap.
Harry stood. "Victor," he greeted, walking over. "You look like you fought sleep and lost."
"Only barely," Victor muttered, rubbing his face as he gave a tired half-smile. "You keep me on my toes, boss."
"Someone has to," Sirius chimed in, grinning. "We were just discussing how Harry drives people to burnout with his completely reasonable expectations."
Vernon snorted. "Honestly, I thought you'd show up dragging a stack of scrolls behind you."
Victor chuckled hoarsely. "That was the backup plan."
Harry clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Come on. Let's talk. You need coffee, and I need updates."
He turned toward the hall. "We'll be in the other living room."
Abigail tilted her head. "The other one?"
"The one across the hallway," Harry said. "We never use it, but it's the same layout."
Sirius waved them off with his glass. "Don't conspire too hard in there."
Victor followed Harry across the polished marble hallway, their footsteps echoing softly. He glanced around, blinking sleep from his eyes as they entered the second living room. Like the main one, it was all high ceilings, velvet curtains, and enchanted oil paintings softly shifting on the walls—but unlike the usual living space, this room was neat, undisturbed, and held a faint scent of lavender and old wood.
Victor collapsed onto one of the sofas with a groan. "I've been awake for nearly fifty hours. The only thing keeping me alive is spite and coffee."
Harry smirked, "No worries. You'll get to rest soon."
He waved his hand, and a steaming mug of strong, sweet coffee floated in from the sideboard to Victor's hand.
Victor blinked at it. "You're an actual angel."
Harry settled into the armchair opposite him, fingers laced and set up a silent barrier so that no one could eavesdrop. "Now, let's talk about that progress report. What have you done so far."
Victor took a long sip of his coffee and let out a sigh of sheer relief. "Right… updates. You might want to brace yourself."
Harry gave a thoughtful nod, intrigued. "Go on."
"All the broom companies—except Nimbus—are now yours," Victor said calmly, then paused for effect. "Every. Single. One. The acquisitions went through this week."
Harry smiled, "That's great."
Victor nodded, "And just like you told, no press leaks. No Ministry whispers. I used all the proxies like you told me—clean sweep."
A wide grin broke across Harry's face before he burst into laughter. "Now that is the best news I've heard in weeks."
Victor smirked, setting the mug down. "It's also terrifying, if you think about it. You now control the entire broomstick market. One word from you and every Quidditch team in Europe would be forced to negotiate."
Harry shrugged, "I won't do something that bad, don't worry."
Victor snorted. "You really won't?"
Harry leaned forward. "What about the dessert bar?"
"Set up in Diagon Alley," Victor replied. "Interior's done. We just need you to finalize the menu, decide on the launch date, and sign off on internal staffing. Most of the crew's already picked, and just as you ordered priority was given to werewolves."
Harry nodded slowly, mind already moving. "And the restaurant in Hogsmeade?"
"Also ready," Victor confirmed. "Structure's up, wards are placed, kitchen installed. You'll have to handle the final design elements and service layout. Menu too, but that won't take you long."
Harry leaned back, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. "You've outdone yourself."
Victor raised a brow. "I haven't slept for three nights."
"That explains the half-dead look," Harry teased. "But seriously, you need a break."
Victor exhaled. "You're telling me."
"Take a few days off. Hell—take a whole month. Go somewhere for a vacation, I'll pay for it. When you're back, I'll need you at full strength." Harry replied while thinking about something.
Victor gave him a side glance. "Why? What are you planning?"
Harry's eyes gleamed. "Let's just say… we're going to completely rewrite the broom industry. The thing we talked about before. Subsidiaries specializing in one kind of brooms."
Victor chuckled nervously, "It seems the Flamels would soon be kicked out of their number one ranking in terms of wealth."
"That was determined the day I started moving" Harry said smugly. "Now it's only a matter of when, not if."
Harry stretched as he stood. "Alright, let's get the design work done today itself. The sooner we wrap it up, the sooner I can finalise the launch date. Preferably this week."
Victor blinked. "Today?"
Harry nodded with a small smile, "I can't just stay home all the time even if I want to. Since I am today, so I should get the work done."
Victor nodded and stood up before both of them vanished into thin air.
They reappeared right inside the tall black gates of the distribution center. Considering that full moon was coming up, there was a line of werewolves who had come up to collect their potion.
Harry and Victor walked out of distribution center after Harry greeted the staff and the werewolves. They walked down the cobbled path, passing clusters of witches and wizards enjoying the evening bustle. Soon they arrived at polished obsidian sign in gilded gold.
Elysium
The place looked luxurious even from the outside. Victor stepped aside to let Harry walk in toward the frosted glass door, pushing it open.
The moment he stepped in, Harry frowned slightly.
The interior was good—velvet booths, mirrored accents, magical crystal lighting that shifted between warm and cool glows depending on the hour—but it felt… tight. A bit too intimate for his vision.
"It feels cramped," Harry muttered. "Choked, even."
Victor nodded. "We crammed a bit. Diagon Alley's space limits, you know—"
Harry didn't respond. Elythral, his wand, shimmered into his grip like a breath pulled from shadow.
With a single, slow motion, he drew a circle in the air. The wand tip glowed faintly as magic pulsed outward—silent, invisible.
The change was almost imperceptible. A hush passed through the room as space folded inward, then expanded—not by bursting outward, but by adjusting itself perfectly.
Now, the walls seemed just far enough. The ceiling just tall enough. Tables and booths reshuffled as if they'd always belonged in the new configuration.
It wouldn't hold more than twenty guests at once—ever. Anyone else attempting to enter would find the entrance sealed until someone left. But for those twenty, the room would always feel like it was made for them alone.
Victor blinked, glancing around. "Why does it feel… roomier? But nothing's changed?"
Harry smirked, "Because it hasn't—visibly. But now, the space adapts. It will always accommodate twenty, and never a soul more."
"Subtle." Victor tilted his head. "Snug, but not suffocating."
"Exactly," Harry said. "Luxury isn't about size. It's about intent."
With another flick of Elythral, the velvet gained a finer sheen, shifting to richer gradients. The mirrored panels deepened to obsidian gloss with faint magical etchings—runes of calm and clarity.
The lighting warmed, threading soft glows through golden sconces, while a scent curled into the air—vanilla bean, cinnamon bark, honeyed smoke.
Soothing, indulgent. Expensive without bragging.
Then came the sound: instrumental jazz laced with faint magical chimes that shimmered in and out of perception—like eavesdropping on stardust.
Victor took a slow step forward, staring. "Bloody hell… it feels enchanted."
Harry smiled, "Exclusive, dreamy, indulgent. But not snobbish. Anyone can walk in... but they'll feel like they've stepped into a dream they weren't supposed to afford."
Victor gave a low whistle. "This doesn't feel like a dessert bar anymore. It feels like… a magical embassy lounge."
Harry turned to him. "Exactly. That's the point. We're not selling desserts. We're selling an experience. Somewhere you experience the luxury of the world of desserts. Somewhere deals are made over chocolate soufflé."
Victor smirked. "You should write that down. Sounds like marketing copy."
Harry grinned. "Maybe I will."
"No more changes," Victor asked, scribbling notes.
"Just one more," Harry muttered, tapping the back wall. It shifted, revealing a small enchanted fireplace—not for heating, but for mood. Deep emerald flames crackled silently, adding another dimension of warmth to the already plush interior. The craziest part, there was no heat coming off the fire.
"Now it's done."
Victor gave a slow whistle. "This… this is going to get a waitlist."
Harry nodded. "Exactly what I want."
Then Harry told Victor to grab onto his arm and the Disapparated again. This time Harry took Victor side-along since the distance was quite big for some people.
One moment Victor was standing inside Elysium, scribbling the final notes of Harry's enchantments—and in the next breath, he was somewhere entirely different. No tug, no sound. Just a clean transition. Like closing your eyes and opening them again in another dream.
Victor turned his head as they stood in front of Honeydukes, its sugar-stained windows glowing under Hogsmeade's mellow twilight.
"I'll never get used to that," Victor muttered.
Harry smiled, placing a glamour on his face so that no professor that came down to the village for a drink or stroll will recognise him.
"Just in case there are professors about," he murmured.
Victor nodded, "I always forget you are a 12 year old kid who is in his second year at Hogwarts."
Harry laughed, "Yeah, it's an easy thing to forget considering my actions."
Victor wisely held his tongue as he led the way through the lightly bustling village. A few fifth-years passed by with bags of Honeydukes sweets, and an older witch stood admiring the window display of Scrivenshaft's. The late-evening air was crisp and charmed against snow, and the lights of the village cast golden halos on the cobbles.
They turned a corner, and there it stood.
The building was large—three stories high, with a long, wide structure stretching like a great manor nestled in the heart of the village. Elegant but approachable. Wide-arched windows revealed warm golden lighting, deep emerald drapes, and slow-moving silhouettes within.
Above the doorway, gilded lettering gleamed under soft charm-light:
Hearth & Hollow
Harry stopped at the threshold.
He could feel the atmosphere already—this wasn't the Ministry Lounge feel of Elysium. It was homelier. Still luxurious, yes, but like a place you were meant to return to. Again and again.
Inside, the entrance hall had oakwood beams, floating lanterns with flickering amber flames, and a marble welcome counter manned by a young lady in a tailored vest, that looked no older than 21. She introduced herself as Ember Vance.
Victor glanced over. "What do you think?"
Harry stepped further in, slowly taking it in. It was perfect. Polished, warm, grounded. But Elythral appeared in Harry's hand again. There were a few tweaks he could think of.
He twirled the wand once. A barely-there shimmer flowed through the entire building, and again the magic settled into the bones of the place. The lighting grew warmer. The marbles gained a deeper veining, subtle flecks of gold that caught the light just right. Tables became more luxurious, spacing themselves with the kind of precision that whispered: you'll never feel crowded here.
But the real magic was in the building itself. A spatial augmentation layered beneath it all. One that would subtly—quietly—expand the space to fit as many guests as needed, without ever seeming fuller than it should. New tables would bloom between existing ones like they'd always been there. New chandelier would hang where there were none. Sound-dampening charms would ensure no noise bled too loud, no matter how many sat laughing or talking.
It would always feel intimate. Perfect. Tailored.
Victor who had not noticed the spacial charm, was mesmerized by the luxury that only a few levels below Elysium. Considering this restaurant was supposed to be for the masses, this level of experience was bound to attract a huge crowd.
Victor exhaled as he felt it, though he couldn't see it. "You're unbelievable."
"No," he said. "This place just needed a nudge."
Victor crossed his arms. "Hearth & Hollow. You like the name?"
Harry nodded slowly. "Grounded, elegant, memorable. Feels like a sanctuary."
Victor grinned, "Actually my girlfriend picked it up when I was stuck with the names. Both this and Elysium."
"You mean Ember? She has good taste," Harry replied walking towards the stairs to check the upper floors.
Victor blinked, caught completely off guard. "Wait—hold on. How the hell did you know that?"
Harry, already halfway up the wide oak staircase, didn't pause. He trailed his hand casually along the smooth bannister, gaze scanning the chandelier above. "Noticed the look you two exchanged when we entered," he said offhandedly. "There's a sort of ease… a familiarity and comfort. One that doesn't come from work or friendship alone."
Victor frowned, trailing after him. "That's it? A look?"
"Also," Harry continued, turning the corner onto the first-floor landing, "her last name's Vance, and it's not yours. So definitely not your sister."
Victor opened his mouth to respond, then paused.
Harry glanced back with a faint smirk. "Oh, and the faintest trace of your cologne on her scarf. Subtle. But definitely there."
Victor stopped at the top of the stairs, blinking like he'd walked into a trick step. "You got all that just from observation?"
Harry grinned, finally turning fully to face him. "Magic isn't the only thing I pay attention to."
Victor stared for a second longer, then muttered, "Merlin's socks. You'd make a terrifying auror."
Harry chuckled and pushed open the nearest set of polished double doors. "That sounds boring"
After checking the entire building and making the tweaks that he wanted, he told Victor that the opening date will be day after tomorrow for Elysium and same day next week for Hearth & Hollow. He also insisted that Victor take a holiday and that he will pay for the holiday himself. He can go with his girlfriend if he wanted.
After inspecting every floor and making the final touches, Harry turned to Victor as they stood once more near the entrance.
"Elysium opens the day after tomorrow," Harry said. "And Hearth & Hollow opens same day next week. That should give us enough time to make sure both have a great opening."
Victor nodded, mentally filing the dates.
"Go home and sleep now, Victor," Harry added. "And after the opening, take a holiday."
Victor looked up, blinking. "What?"
"You've outdone yourself and you deserve it. My treat. Enjoy and take your girlfriend with you if you'd like."
Victor gave a half-laugh, half-sigh. "You're serious?"
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Have I ever said something like this and not meant it?"
Victor grinned, "Thanks, Harry."
Harry offered a nod and then disappeared soundlessly yet again.
The soft light of the Dursley Mansion living room welcomed him back with a familiar warmth. The air was filled with the comforting scent of just-baked treacle tart—his favorite—and a hint of cinnamon from the ever-charmed candles glowing on the mantle.
He blinked, then smiled.
The room was more packed than when he'd left.
The Weasleys were here. Fred and George were nowhere to be seen, which meant they were likely off at Magic Pavilion, probably checking up on sales and inventory.
Ron was fast asleep on the far couch, surrounded by a softly shimmering silence barrier. His arm dangled over the edge, twitching faintly, likely from a dream.
Ginny and Abigail sat near the hearth, whispering and giggling as they tried to cast a synchronized charm. Sparks popped occasionally from their wands, one of which had just scorched a throw pillow—though it quickly repaired itself with a twitch of the embroidery.
Near the corner, Vernon, Arthur, and Sirius were deep in conversation, each holding a glass of amber liquid and ice—likely one of Vernon's scotch. Sirius, as usual, was gesturing animatedly, while Arthur listened with a fascinated gleam in his eye. Vernon lounged like a practiced gentleman, flicking a finger now and then to adjust the placement of their glasses or subtly refill them.
From the clinking sounds and light chatter drifting from the kitchen, it was clear Petunia and Molly were inside—probably fussing over what to cook.
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The Weasleys had long since departed, their laughter and chatter fading down the lane. But inside the warm glow of the Dursley Mansion's living room, the quiet hum of conversation still lingered. Harry sat comfortably with Petunia, Vernon, Sirius, and Abigail scattered around the room.
Harry turned to Sirius, a spark in his eyes. "So, what've you been up to lately?"
Sirius shrugged, leaning back in the armchair that subtly adjusted itself to his shape. "Not much, really. Mostly free time, trying to figure out my next move. Might start something soon, but nothing solid yet."
Harry nodded slowly, then a sly grin spread across his face. "Actually… I've got a job for you."
The word 'job' caught everyone's attention instantly. Petunia paused mid-sip of her tea, Vernon raised a brow, and Abigail leaned forward with interest.
Harry reached over to the coffee table and pulled out a thick, leather-bound diary, placing it carefully in front of Sirius.
"This," Harry said, voice steady, "is for a place called Elysium. It's a luxury dessert bar I'm opening in Diagon Alley. The grand opening's in two days."
Sirius blinked, then picked up the diary, flipping it open. "Dessert bar?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah. Everything you need to run it—menu, limited-time specials, event schedules, finances, everything for the first six months—it's all here."
He looked at Sirius, voice firm. "I want you to be the owner. Use the Black family name to launch it with a bang. Make sure it soars in the first month."
Petunia and Vernon exchanged surprised glances. Abigail's eyes widened.
Vernon finally broke the silence. "Harry, since when did you start all this?"
Harry shrugged, grinning. "Roughly a month ago, Mum. For the opening, I invited a Montrose Magpies—gave them a hundred thousand galleons and each of them gets a card that allows them and their family five free visits. Leveraging their popularity to boost Elysium's profile right off the bat."
The room went silent again, the weight of Harry's meticulous planning sinking in.
Sirius turned the diary's pages, his face slowly paling. "This… This answers every question I could've thought of. This plan's been in the works a long time, hasn't it?"
Harry shrugged, "Not really. I'm just a good planner."
Petunia looked genuinely confused. "But why Sirius? Why not have your name attached directly to it?"
Harry's gaze flicked to Vernon, who immediately caught the subtle change in his son's tone—a blend of mischief and caution. Vernon didn't press but made a mental note to wait for Harry to share more on his own.
"Not my style," Harry explained quietly. "I need someone with a name and reputation like yours to help it take off without questions."
Vernon gave a low chuckle. "That's our boy—always two steps ahead, and twice as sneaky."
The room hummed with mixed emotions: surprise, admiration, and a flicker of doubt—just how deep was this plan going?
Harry shifted his gaze to Petunia next. "And Mum, I need your help too."
Petunia smiled warmly. "I'd be happy to help with Elysium. I'm mostly home reading anyway."
Harry shook his head gently. "No, this one's different. I'm opening another place—Hollow & Hearth. It's a luxury restaurant, but aimed at the masses. The idea is to offer the kind of experience usually reserved for the wealthy, but at the price of a simple diner meal."
Both Petunia and Sirius exchanged stunned glances, their eyes widening as Harry continued.
"This place will bring fine dining to everyone without the exorbitant cost. I've planned it so carefully that even if it struggles at first, the dessert bar—Elysium—will keep it afloat. Though honestly, I don't think Hollow & Hearth will fail. The two are designed to support each other."
Petunia's brows knit together in disbelief. "And there's been no word of this anywhere? No rumors or whispers?"
Sirius, flipping through the pages of the diary Harry had handed him earlier, shook his head. "Not a thing. It's like you've been operating in complete silence—on a level none of us even guessed."
Harry smiled, "Don't worry. I wanted to keep it quiet."
Sirius looked up, eyes sharp. "And you want us to be the face of it all?"
Harry nodded. "You're the perfect fit. You guys have influence."
Petunia reached out, squeezing Harry's hand. "You've outdone yourself, Harry. I'll do whatever it takes to help."