“Good morning, Jenna. Do I have any post?”
“Morning, Mr. Doyle. Yes, here they are,” said Jenna handing Doyle some letters, “Also, Mr. Potter’s secretary told me over Floo that he was interested in hiring you as the planner for his new house.”
“You mean the famous Harry Potter? Wow! I must be getting famous!” exclaimed Mr. Doyle almost jumping with joy.
“Oh, Mr. Doyle, you know that you are famous and how much your work is appreciated.”
As a reply to this, Doyle just smiled brightly and went to his office.
Mr. Andrew Doyle was a fifty-year-old wizard. He was a son of an architect, and was shocked to find that very few wizards used help to plan their houses, doing it on their own. Looking at some of friends’ houses, he knew what exactly the wizarding world was lacking. Inheriting his father’s talent of designing beautiful and well-planned buildings, he decided this was the job for him.
It came as a surprise to him when his business was an instant success. He thought that if wizards needed architects so badly, somebody must have thought of it before him. But as no one had, his work became famous and so did he.
Almost immediately after sitting on his desk in his office, Doyle heard someone knock on the door. Knowing very well that it couldn’t be anybody other than Jenna, he asked her to come inside.
“Mr. Doyle, Ms. McGonagall has arrived for her meeting with you to discuss that incident at Hogwarts.”
“Oh, yes, send her in,” replied Doyle opening his desk drawer to remove the required papers. “Good Morning, Ms. McGonagall!”
“Good Morning, Mr. Doyle,” said McGonagall in her usual business-like voice taking a seat. “As I told your secretary over Floo earlier, there seems to be some problem with one of the corridors you planned for Hogwarts after the War.”
“Yes, Jenna informed me. Can you please explain what exactly the problem is? To be honest, I have never had a complaint before, so I’m not quite sure what could have happened,” said Doyle seriously.
“The seventh-floor corridor of the East Tower has broken down; the walls are shattered and the sate of the ceiling is almost like it was never present,” reported McGonagall grimly.
“Oh, Merlin! How did this happen? I assure you that my walls could never break down by themselves!” responded Doyle clearly shocked.
“Well, one of our not-so-sincere students, decided to bomb down the seventh-floor corridor, thinking that it would be an amusing joke-” started McGonagall hesitantly when she was cut by Doyle who was laughing outrageously.
“I can assure you that the student was punished for his actions and we will try our best to stop this from happening again,” continued McGonagall disapprovingly.
“May I know the name of the student who did this?” asked Doyle when he finally stopped laughing.
On hearing the answer, Doyle knew that he had to build the walls of Potter's house really strong.