After a busy day, Diagon Alley fell completely silent in the middle of the night.
Ivan slept fitfully.
So, when the sound of tapping—*tap, tap, tap*—came from the window, he sat up instantly.
Moonlight streamed through the glass, cutting square patches of light onto the floor.
Ivan squinted toward the window but saw nothing unusual.
No human shadow, no wizard flying by on a broom, and certainly no round, fat owl delivering a letter.
Yet the tapping continued.
*Tap…
tap…
tap…*
The slow, steady rhythm grated on his nerves.
Ivan slid quietly out of bed, pressed his back against the wall, and edged toward the window to look out.
The moonlight was bright, illuminating every corner of the street.
He saw no one, nor did he see any nocturnal animals foraging for food.
Then, the tapping stopped.
It ceased as abruptly as it had begun.
Ivan waited for ten seconds, twenty seconds, a full minute.
The only sound in the silent room was the frantic thumping of his own heart.
He cautiously leaned his head out.
He saw no stains, no claw marks, nor any trace of anything having tapped on the glass.
But the sound had been so real it made his skin crawl.
The magical world had too many things he didn’t understand.
A ghost?
An invisible tracking charm?
Or some kind of family detection magic?
Ivan closed the window and took a few steps back.
He kept his ears pricked, his eyes fixed on the window.
Time passed slowly.
Other than the occasional gust of night wind, there was nothing.
His tensed muscles slowly began to relax.
Just then, a conversation drifted up from downstairs.
The voices were coming from the direction of the pub’s back door.
It was likely two wizards who had stayed out late, chatting and smoking in the back alley.
“…Did you hear?
The Rosier family has put out a bounty.”
“Which Rosiers?
The one from the Sacred Twenty-Eight?”
“That’s the one.
Casper Rosier, that Deputy Head of Department at the Ministry.
Word is a servant stole some things and ran off.”
“A servant?
How much is the bounty?”
“Five hundred Galleons.
They want him alive.
“Five hundred?
Are they mad?
What kind of servant is worth that much?”
“Who knows…
anyway, the news broke this afternoon.
The information brokers in Knockturn Alley are all talking about it.”
“Tch, rich people problems…”
The voices faded, and the sound of footsteps eventually vanished at the end of the alley.
Ivan leaned against the bed, moonlight illuminating his face.
*So, I have a bounty on my head?*
Five hundred Galleons for a “servant” like him, and “dead works too”!
*Heh, Casper really cares about his reputation.*
He didn’t dare say his son had run away; he just claimed a servant had stolen something.
It made sense.
Admitting a Squib son had absconded with the family funds was far more embarrassing than a simple theft by a servant.
Five hundred Galleons was enough to make many poor wizards go mad with greed.
He had to leave the Leaky Cauldron as soon as possible tomorrow.
The place was too crowded with all sorts of people.
Even if Tom didn’t check the guests’ information, there was no guarantee a bounty hunter wouldn’t catch the scent of gold.
He would leave first thing in the morning, find a more secluded place to stay, and then find a way to speed up the repair of his system panel.
Ivan lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as he planned his next move.
An owl hooted outside, much further away this time.
He closed his eyes.
*Sleep.*
Tomorrow would be a new day.
Downstairs, the pub hadn’t completely closed yet.
Two drunken wizards leaned against the bar, their glasses emptying and refilling.
“The Rosiers…
put out a bounty…
Lost a, a, a servant?
But I heard…
heard…
it was a kid who went missing.”
The other let out a boozy hiccup.
“Who cares…
five hundred Galleons…
that’s enough for years of drinks…”
“Maybe…
we, we, we should look too?”
“Look for what…
London’s huge…
Who the hell knows where they ran off to…”
Behind the bar, Tom slowly wiped a glass, his ears twitching slightly.
He said nothing, merely casting a glance toward the third floor before returning to his glass, acting as if he hadn’t heard a thing.
As dawn broke, Ivan woke up.
The hallway of the pub was quiet in the early morning.
Ivan went downstairs, walked to the counter, and pushed the room key toward Old Tom, who was currently yawning.
“Landlord, I’d like to check out.”
Tom rubbed his bleary eyes and glanced at the magical clock on the wall.
“This early?
Breakfast isn’t even ready.”
“I’ll skip it.
I have some business to take care of first thing.”
Tom shrugged and pulled two silver Sickles from a drawer, tossing them over.
“Here’s your deposit.
I’ve swapped it for Sickles for you!”
“Thanks, landlord!” Ivan pocketed the money and turned toward the door.
“Kid.”
Hearing Old Tom’s call, Ivan stopped in his tracks.
“Diagon Alley hasn’t been very peaceful lately, and Knockturn Alley is even messier.
People are snatching up vagrants and kids left and right.
A little fellow like you wandering around alone…
well, just make sure you don’t go running off into trouble.”
“I will.
Thank you for the warning, landlord,” Ivan replied, pushing the door open.
Outside was an ordinary morning in Diagon Alley.
After a light rain during the night, the cobblestones were damp, and the air smelled of fresh rain mixed with moss.
A few shops were already starting their day, the rumbling sounds of crates being moved echoing across the stones.
Ivan pulled up his hood and ducked into a narrow side alley.
The alley was empty for now.
He walked while carefully monitoring his surroundings, his hand already gripped around a short knife.
He had bought the knife yesterday at a Muggle shop; it wasn’t that a gun wasn’t useful, but he simply couldn’t afford one.
Only after confirming he wasn’t being followed did he emerge from the alley, blending in with a few wizards out for early morning shopping.
These people were pushing carts and complaining about the rising price of Moondew, paying no attention to the small, thin figure beside them.
Ivan strolled down the street.
He picked up a copy of the *Daily Prophet* from a street stall and began to read.
The headline was about new Ministry regulations, and it wasn’t until the third page that he found a small notice:
[Family Theft, Reward for Capture]
[This Paper Reports: It is understood that a family of the Sacred Twenty-Eight recently suffered an internal theft, with a servant absconding with various valuables.
A family spokesperson stated that the matter has been reported to the Ministry of Magic, and a bounty of five hundred Galleons has been offered for the capture.]
“I actually made the papers.” Ivan scoffed, crumpling the newspaper into a ball.
He continued walking down the streets of Diagon Alley, needing to find a place where he could settle down.
The further north he went, the more dilapidated the shops became; he wasn’t sure how far out of the main district he had wandered.
He found a corner to crouch in and pulled a piece of butter bread he’d bought yesterday from his backpack.
By all rights, after a night, the bread should have been hard, but it felt soft to the touch, just as it had when he bought it.
“Time stasis?”
The phrase flashed through Ivan’s mind.
He took a bite.
“Yeah, it’s definitely fresh.”
He marveled at this as he stuffed the bread into his mouth.
Just as he finished eating, a clamor of voices erupted from the adjacent alley.