Walking out of the dingy little shop, the midday sun washed over a bustling Diagon Alley.
This was the wizarding world—even though it was still raining on the Muggle street just outside.
Perhaps a [Weather Charm]?
Since the start of term was just around the corner, many adults could be seen bringing their children here to buy school supplies.
There were middle-aged men dressed in elegant formal suits with waistcoats and ties—Muggle parents.
There were also silver-haired men in slightly old-fashioned robes, holding walking sticks.
Since Muggles hadn’t dressed like that for centuries, these were clearly wizards.
To be precise, it was Lucius Malfoy.
His wife and son were currently walking into Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, while he stood outside, seemingly conversing with an acquaintance from the Ministry of Magic.
Clearly uninterested in the conversation, Lucius Malfoy scanned the street even as he listened to Ludo Bagman complain.
The other man didn’t seem to mind his dismissive attitude.
After all, everyone at the Ministry of Magic knew Ludo Bagman was a gambler, a pauper, and a fraud.
And as the Ministry’s designated financial backer—and sucker—Lord Lucius had no need to show any respect to someone trying to borrow money from him.
Lucius had troubles of his own.
Enormous amounts of Gold Galleons were funneled into Fudge’s pockets every year.
One alchemical amulet after another was donated to the Aurors under Rufus Scrimgeour.
Yet these shiny little treasures did nothing to elevate his status—the Head of the Malfoy family—or that of the pure-blood Malfoys.
Those pigs at the Ministry of Magic merely treated him as an ATM; no one truly regarded him as a great figure.
Now, even a small-fry like Ludo Bagman dared to try and squeeze money out of him.
Lucius was currently calculating just how much of his shiny gold it would take to get rid of this gambler.
Ensuring they didn’t fall out while making this Grindylow steer clear of him was just basic instinct for a Malfoy.
Just as he was about to pull out his money bag to offer some charity, Lucius’s gaze was arrested by an old man walking with a student.
The moment he recognized who it was, the figure before him ceased to be a pale, gaunt old man in a white shirt.
Instead, he became a grand, shimmering icon radiating brilliant, glittering light.
Especially since he knew that beneath the pedestal of this icon lay buried the bones of many who had coveted his secrets.
He became all the more respectful.
Grabbing a handful of Gold Galleons, he tossed them to Ludo without even tying his coin purse, and quickly strode toward the master and student.
“My respect to you, Master. I am Lucius Malfoy, the current Head of the Malfoy family.”
The Malfoy family originated from France and kept a close eye on the French wizarding world; thus, Lucius knew exactly what attitude to adopt when speaking with this legendary alchemist.
Lucius removed his hat.
Before even drawing close, he bowed from a distance.
Only when he saw Nicolas Flamel nod did Lucius step forward, as if granted permission.
“Hello, Malfoy,” Nicolas Flamel said simply.
Addressing him by his last name was, frankly, not very polite.
But Lucius did not feel insulted.
To this master, their entire family fortune combined was likely worth no more than what the man could pocket with a casual sweep of his hand.
And for the master to even acknowledge him was already a great honor.
Malfoy spoke with a warm smile, looking nothing like a former Death Eater.
“The last time I heard news of you was back in Paris, when you foiled that Dark Lord’s plot. It has already been several decades since then; I never expected to have the honor of seeing you here.”
Raven wore a bizarre expression.
Was this really the sinister Lucius Malfoy?
He looked more like a sunny, cheerful friend.
And the words “Dark Lord” actually came out of his mouth?
It couldn’t be helped.
In a society dominated by Anglo-Saxon wizards, the Malfoy family was actually subtly marginalized within the British pure-blood circles.
They maintained their current standing solely by using Gold Galleons to buy influence.
But in front of this legendary alchemist, they had neither his wealth nor his connections.
They were utterly outmatched in the areas they excelled at, to say nothing of the areas they didn’t.
They were completely under his thumb.
Furthermore, records showed that this old gentleman used to have a terrible temper.
In fact, Goblins used to use his name to scare crying goblin children who demanded pocket money.
Knowing when to swallow one’s pride was a survival skill passed down through generations of Malfoys.
Nicolas gestured to the student beside him and introduced him.
“This is my student, Raven Nicholas Weasley, a second-year at Hogwarts.”
*He even gave him his middle name?* And with the recent rumors surrounding the Philosopher’s Stone…
has this immortal finally grown tired of living?
Is this Weasley boy Nicolas Flamel’s heir?
What incredible luck for a Weasley!
Though burning with envy, Lucius maintained his persona of a warm, middle-aged gentleman—for now.
He took the initiative to greet Raven.
“The Weasley family is known as the light of pure-bloods in the British wizarding world, possessing a noble and ancient lineage.
“And now, it seems this glory has found an outstanding successor.
“My own boy is starting his first year.
I must trouble you to look after him when the time comes, Mr.
Weasley.
“*(I’ll have to tell Draco to watch his mouth later. From now on, we must get along with the Weas… dear Arthur’s family.)*”
*Dear lord, the sheer gall.
Shouldn’t the title be “blood traitors” instead of “the light of pure-bloods”?*
*And I’m pretty sure Draco learned all his arrogance from you, didn’t he?*
His scalp tingling, Raven could only smile and reply.
“I look forward to meeting young Mr. Malfoy at school.”
Seeing that the pleasantries were over, Nicolas Flamel made a move to leave.
Lucius tactfully stepped aside.
Raven wasn’t the slick, worldly type.
He hadn’t been before transmigrating, and in his previous life, he had been even more self-centered.
But since the man had extended such an olive branch, perhaps he should be a bit nicer to Draco in the future?
That is, if Lucius actually went back and gave his boy a proper talking-to.
The inherited wisdom of the Malfoy family had proven effective once again.
For the time being, Raven let go of the slight, inherent dislike he had toward the Malfoy family due to the friction between Arthur and Lucius.
A gentle breeze carried away some of the noise.
The master and disciple walked toward the towering white building in the distance.
“To be honest, I don’t particularly care for the mercenary wizards of the Malfoy family either,” Old Nicolas said to Raven.
“But in this era, in this British wizarding world…
“…how you choose to survive here…
“…what kind of friends to make, and what kind of people to oppose…
“…are choices you must make for yourself.
“I do not wish for my attitude to influence your choices. I am dying.”
“Don’t worry, Teacher. I’ll play along nicely in this game,” Raven replied.
Time did not pause for these two, who were like father and son, master and disciple.
A glittering bronze door soon appeared before them.
Goblin guards dressed in scarlet and gold uniforms stood at the entrance, alert and upright, bowing to every customer who entered or left.
Yet it was not until the master and disciple had passed through the first set of doors and stood before the second set…
…that the Goblin guard captain realized what was happening.
Panic was too late, shouting was too late, and running was far too late.
Without hesitation or delay, they acted exactly as described on the very first page, first clause, first line of the *Gringotts Guard Training Manual*:
[When Nicolas Flamel arrives at Gringotts, a Level One Warning must be dispatched to inform all Goblin staff in the area.]
[When Nicolas Flamel enters Gringotts, do not attempt to attack, do not attempt to resist. Wait in place to avoid causing additional damage to the building.]