With the Pensieve secured, Lockhart continued deeper into the darkest corners of Knockturn Alley.
He had a meeting with a dangerous individual: the trader of illicit magical wares, Mundungus Fletcher.
Mundungus was cut from a different cloth than Borgin.
If Borgin clung to the remnants of his “Sacred Twenty-Eight” pride to maintain his influence, Mundungus was a true denizen of the gutter—a rat with no bottom.
There was a legendary anecdote in the dark circles that if you tried to buy stolen goods from Mundungus, he would likely pick your pocket during the transaction and sell your own belongings back to you.
Yet, Mundungus had his own brand of wisdom.
He was the ultimate information broker of the wizarding underworld and the handler of goods far beyond the reach of shopkeepers.
He could acquire things Lockhart couldn’t get at Borgin’s—like Felix Felicis.
Technically, brewing the Liquid Luck wasn’t impossible, though it was a notoriously complex process taking six months of painstaking work.
The real bottleneck wasn’t just the recipe; it was the requirement that the brewer themselves be inherently lucky.
To survive half a year of brewing without a single mistake required a staggering amount of good fortune.
That was why it was so rare and so expensive.
After running a gauntlet of menacing glares and unsettling chuckles, Lockhart arrived at Mundungus’s temporary hideout.
He climbed a narrow staircase rank with the stench of rot and garbage, pushing open a creaking wooden door.
Lockhart, tall as he was, had to stoop low to enter.
CLANG!
He stepped on an empty bottle, nearly face-planting, and grabbed the nearest iron cage to steady himself.
A pair of large, violet eyes suddenly snapped open in the dark.
Lockhart squinted.
Through the iron bars, tethered by chains and wearing a muzzle, was a young Hebridean Black dragon.
It was currently shivering, terrified by the tiny Goldie, who had poked its head out of Lockhart’s pocket and was staring at the dragon with gleeful intensity.
“Gilderoy Lockhart…” A voice drawled, thick with the rasp of a hangover and dripping with mockery.
“My old classmate.
You finally showed up.” Lockhart peered into the corner.
Sprawled on a tattered, threadbare armchair was a stubble-chinned, stout man.
Seeing Lockhart look his way, he raised a bottle in a mock toast and took a long swig.
“I’m disguised this well, and you still recognize me?” Lockhart cursed the rat’s keen eyes under his breath.
He removed his mask and lowered his hood, offering a perfect, standard smile.
“Hey, long time no see, Mundungus Fletcher.” Mundungus stood, ruffled his greasy hair, pulled a box of cigars from his stained robes, and offered one to Lockhart.
“Want one?” Lockhart shook his head, chuckling.
“I’d rather not smoke something that leaves me waking up naked in a Knockturn Alley sewer.” “Oh, you scum, you’ve got no right to talk.
At least I only steal the gold,” Mundungus retorted.
Lockhart narrowed his eyes.
He realized the man might have sensed something, but he feigned ignorance.
He watched Mundungus fumble for a lighter and chuckled.
“I heard you got pummeled by Moody again?” Mundungus snorted, puffing on his cigar.
He coughed violently before finally catching his breath.
“That top-shelf Fire-Sleeping Grass cigar from the American Wizarding Association is potent stuff!” He wiped his mouth, his face souring into a scowl.
“Mad-Eye Moody!
That bastard has hated me since we were in school!” Lockhart scanned the room, finding no clean surface to sit on, so he crossed his arms and leaned against the dragon’s cage.
“I heard you were peddling contraband at the alumni meeting again, which earned you another one of Moody’s ‘just’ punches.” Mundungus looked put out.
“That damned Gryffindor shouldn’t be allowed at our Ravenclaw alumni gatherings!” “Give it a rest.
Without Moody, our Hibiscus Ravenclaw alumni association would have fallen apart years ago.” Lockhart idly looked at the surrounding piles of junk—exquisite enamel plates and art-style cabinets that were clearly stolen from some manor.
Mundungus didn’t want to talk about Moody anymore.
He told Lockhart to wait, then began rummaging through a heap of debris.
In truth, the relationship between Mundungus, the gutter rat, and Moody, the Auror legend, went deeper than the alumni association.
Both were founding members of Dumbledore’s Order of the Phoenix.
Yes, Mundungus was a member—devoted to Dumbledore, yet entirely without morals.
In the future, he would empty out Sirius Black’s home the moment the man died, stealing a locket that happened to be a Horcrux.
Lockhart suspected that if Dumbledore ever caught on to him being a memory-thief, it would be because Mundungus had been the one to whisper it.
Under the dim, flickering light, Lockhart’s expression darkened.
He kept his hand in his pocket, stroking Goldie’s head while staring at Mundungus’s back.
“If you’re planning to bash my skull in, I suggest you wait until I’m drunk,” Mundungus called out, turning back around and stumbling toward him to hand over a small glass vial.
Lockhart rolled his eyes.
“You always think the worst of people.
I live in the light, Mundungus!
I don’t do such things!” “Sure, sure.” Mundungus puffed a cloud of smoke, his sharp eyes filled with suspicion.
“You’re a professor at Hogwarts now.
I wouldn’t be surprised if you were a high-ranking Ministry official by next year.” Lockhart ignored the pointed remark and examined the Felix Felicis.
It was contained in a drop-shaped bottle, the perfect shape for observing the state of the potion.
He held it up to the yellow light, watched the swirling, glowing liquid, and tested the magical resonance through his wand.
He nodded.
“Everything alright?” Mundungus watched him intently.
“That cost me a fortune to procure!” “Save it,” Lockhart scoffed.
“God knows which ‘shipment’ you swiped this from.
This stuff has a market price, Mundungus—don’t try to add a markup.” In the dark wizarding community, there was a standard going rate for such things.
Many of the non-academic or poorly trained dark wizards loved to drink this stuff while brewing complex dark artifacts or dangerous potions.
Lockhart tossed a bulging bag of Galleons at him.
“Count it.” Mundungus weighed it, shoved it into his robes, and grunted.
“The number’s right.” Since he was already there, Lockhart decided to place another order.
“Keep an ear out for information on Dark magical creatures.” “Oh!
Absolutely not!” Mundungus started coughing violently again, his face turning an angry red.
“I can find you Minister Fudge’s underwear if you ask, but Dark creatures?
Pal, I don’t touch that nightmare fuel!” Dark magical creatures weren’t really “creatures”—they were phenomena.
They were often immortal, unstoppable, and resistant to any conventional magic.
Common ones were manageable—Boggarts, Peeves, Dementors—but anything deeper into that field was lethal.
If not for the school curriculum requiring the study of Boggarts, most wizards would be utterly helpless against them.
“Information, Mundungus.
I want information on them, not a specimen.” Lockhart sneered.
“Information… alright, that’s my bread and butter.” Mundungus exhaled, sounding relieved.
“You’ve got a cushy job as a bestselling author and a professor in a bright, warm office, and you’re obsessed with this death-trap of a field?
You’re asking for trouble.” “Is it possible,” Lockhart shrugged, “that my area of expertise and my curriculum is the field of Dark creatures?
Mundungus, try reading a book sometime!
You’re a Ravenclaw, after all.” Mundungus cackled.
“Ravenclaw?
Ravenclaw produces nothing but scum, my old friend.” It was a harsh truth.
It had become a common stereotype that Ravenclaw produced specialists who went off the deep end, much like Slytherins were seen as conspirators and Gryffindors as reckless brawlers.
The labels stuck, and in the wizarding world, labels were everything.
— Don’t forget to send Spirit Stones for more chapters.
Extra chapter when we reach 100 Spirit Stones Can’t wait for the daily uploads?
“@” with the letter “a”.
For every person who joins,
With a thank you note with your username on the chapter.
Make sure to message or like which story you came from so I can make sure I add the bonus chapters on the right story.