"Mr. Weasley, the Helmut twenty-sixth floor will see you now," Raymond said as the elevator doors opened. Arthur stepped into the office with both hands flat on his satchel, the badge from his civil service days tucked against his ribs. He kept his voice steady. "Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Helmut." Raymond waved him toward a chair without looking away from the skyline. His voice was smooth and practiced. "Sit, Arthur. Make it quick. We have a compressed schedule." Arthur sat. He did not fumble. He had come with papers, names, dates, a plea that had no glamour and no patron—just facts and the small, stubborn hope that someone still answered to decency. "Your file arrived this morning," Raymond said. "Late fees, three months missed, delinquency notices forwarded twice. Summit filed a lien. The building's management sent a final notice last week." "I know." Arthur opened his satchel and handed over a stapled packet. "I've been trying. The department froze my pension after the restructuring. My wife—Molly—she's taking odd shifts at Summit. The kids—Bill and Charlie—need school supplies." "Names and numbers. Very tidy." Raymond flipped the top sheet and held Arthur's gaze long enough to be courteous. "You know why you have an appointment on this floor." Arthur swallowed. "I know Helmut controls a lot of the housing circuits. I know there's no magic in money here. I came asking if there's any mercy for a family