The reality was much as he had imagined.
The only difference was that the other bag was filled with silver Sickles.
As for gold Galleons…
Obvious, there wasn’t a single one.
At this moment, Lupin’s hand holding the money bag began to tremble…
“Boss, what are you actually trying to do?”
“In what regard?”
“All of this.” Lupin pointed at the bags, then at Alvin.
“From stealing money from a family vault, to hiring me, and now forming a team…
Do you want to be a black market merchant in Knockturn Alley?
Or are you looking for people to take revenge on your father?”
Alvin didn’t answer immediately.
He stood up, walked to the window, and pushed it open just a crack.
The breeze blew in, messing up his hair.
“Remus, have you ever seen a real Squib?
The kind who has been truly judged to have ‘no magic’ whatsoever?”
Lupin remained silent.
“I have.
In the basement of Rosier Manor.
I accidentally wandered in there once when I was five.”
“At that time, three distant relatives of my family were locked away there.”
“They were judged to be Squibs, and then they were locked underground.
Someone brought them food every day; they were kept like livestock.”
“I overheard my father saying it was a ‘necessary treatment,’ that everything was for the honor of the family.”
Lupin listened quietly, his fingers slowly tightening.
“So, you ask me what I’m actually trying to do?”
He walked back to the table, picked up a bronze Knut that had fallen onto the surface at some point, and flicked it gently with his fingertip.
The coin flipped through the air, tracing an arc before falling back into his palm.
“I want to try,” Alvin said, clenching his fist.
“I want to see if a Squib—or rather, someone treated as a Squib—can use gold Galleons to smash out a path of his own.”
“It’s as simple as that.”
Lupin stared at Alvin, staring into eyes that didn’t look like they belonged to an eleven-year-old boy at all.
In them, he saw no anger and no sadness; only a fixation that bordered on madness.
“And if you fail?
If someone discovers you have such immense wealth midway through?”
“Then I fail.” Alvin shrugged indifferently.
“The worst-case scenario is nothing more than the start of another great adventure.”
Alvin’s words held a hidden meaning.
“But I’m betting.
I’m betting that I can win.”
After a moment of silence, Lupin stood up.
He picked up the two extension bags and tucked them into his tunic.
“I have a few ideas for candidates for the team.
I’ll reach out to them tomorrow.”
“I’ll give you three days.
Within three days, I want to see the first group,” Alvin said.
Lupin nodded.
“Boss.”
“Hmm?”
“Once those potions are bought, don’t drink too many at once.
It really can kill you.”
“I know,” Alvin waved him off.
“I’m not stupid.”
The door opened and then closed.
Lupin’s footsteps faded away.
The room next to Alvin’s was very small, containing only a bed and a battered wardrobe.
Lupin placed the bags at the head of the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress.
After staring blankly for a while, he opened the bags and looked inside again.
Familiar bags, familiar Knuts.
The only difference was that there was an extra bag, and the contents had changed to silver Sickles.
He recalled the flood of bronze coins in the Gringotts hall, Griphook’s shocked face, and the eyes of the surrounding wizards.
So much money…
Just how much had Alvin taken from his family vault?
Lupin shook his head, staring at the cracks in the ceiling.
He couldn’t sleep.
He couldn’t sleep at all.
His mind was filled with everything that had happened today: the slave catchers, the rain of bronze coins, Gringotts, and Alvin’s line about “smashing out a path with gold Galleons.”
This child was like a madman.
But this madman had given him a job he wouldn’t have dared to dream of.
A salary higher than that of an elite Auror, with room and board included.
And he had trusted him with this much money.
Then I’ll be crazy with you.
Living the way I did before was no different from being dead, anyway!
In the next room.
Alvin had not yet gone to sleep.
He sat at the table, a gold Galleon in his hand, spinning it between his fingertips.
He looked at the backpack interface.
In the inventory slots, the number of gold Galleons was prominently displayed:
[Gold: 28,888] [Silver: 88] [Bronze: 88]
Alvin smiled; it was another auspicious number.
Twenty-eight thousand, eight hundred and eighty-eight Galleons.
What was the cost of the bag of bronze Knuts he gave Lupin this afternoon?
After one trip to Gringotts, the profit had increased nearly twenty-fold.
Alvin tossed the Galleon up and caught it.
“Gringotts, oh Gringotts.
This was only the first time.
If I do this a few more times, will you start crying?”
He put the gold coin into his backpack and looked at the interface outside the inventory.
The other panels were still shattered, like a broken mirror.
Fragmented pieces floated against a semi-transparent background, their outlines barely discernable.
“Mana Replenishment Potions?
Magic springs?
Philosopher’s Stones?”
“Just wait.
He stood up and walked to the window.
The nights in Knockturn Alley were never quiet.
There were lights in the distance and shadows nearby.
People were trading in the dark; people were passed out drunk in the light.
This was a place that devoured people.
But Alvin grinned.
“Then let’s see who eats whom.”
Just as dawn broke, Alvin was awakened by movement downstairs.
The sound of several people’s footsteps came as they climbed the stairs.
He rolled out of bed, his hand already reaching for the small knife hidden under his pillow.
As the people came upstairs, Lupin’s voice sounded outside the door.
“Wait here for a moment.”
*Knock, knock, knock!* The door was rapped.
Alvin let go of the knife and opened the door.
“So early?”
“Yes, I found them first thing this morning.
They are people I know and trust.” Lupin stepped aside.
“Come in.”
Five people filed in one after another.
The loft immediately felt crowded.
Alvin looked them over one by one.
On the far left were two middle-aged wizards.
As soon as they entered, their eyes scanned the room alertly.
One had a scar running from his left forehead to his jaw; the other was missing half an ear.
The third was a thin, small man in his early thirties, wearing coarse cloth clothes with hands covered in calluses—a Squib.
Alvin could sense that aura, a subtle resonance between their own kind.
The last two were young men, appearing to be under twenty.
One was blond and the other dark-haired; both were terribly thin, but their eyes held a suppressed ferocity.
They stood closest to the door, ready to run or pounce at any second—werewolves.
Alvin smelled the scent that was so similar to Lupin’s.
“Let me introduce them.
Scarface is Kyle, a former member of the Auror Office’s Third Squad.
Half-Ear is Marcus, from the same year.”
The two former Aurors nodded.
“This is Tom,” Lupin pointed to the Squib.
“A black market porter in Knockturn Alley.
He’s worked here for twelve years and knows all the back alleys and secret passages.”
Tom squeezed out a smile, revealing two missing front teeth.
“The blond one is Claws, and the dark-haired one is Greyback,” Lupin pointed to the last two.
“They’re the same as me.
They were kicked out of their ‘pack’ just last month.”
Claws and Greyback didn’t speak; they just stared at Alvin.
“This is your employer.
You can call him—”
“Loki.
Loki Royce.”