London, Knockturn Alley.
Here, the air always seems to be mixed with a musty smell, the stench of cheap Magic Potions, and decay. But recently, this place that has always been chaotic appeared to have a different sense of order, like a thin layer of ice floating on grease, barely covering the inherent disorder beneath.
The usually filthy street has been roughly cleaned, revealing the originally uneven cobblestone pavement. On the left side of the road, a row of shop doors have been hung with uniform black signs with white paint that read "Starry Sky Limited Liability Company — Magic Items Recycling" and "Starry Sky Limited Liability Company — Authorized Magic Potion Materials Distribution."
The signs are plain and seem out of place with the usually bizarre style of Knockturn Alley.
Several wizards dressed in black, with stern expressions and wands hanging at their waists, silently patrolled back and forth in the alley. Their gaze was like a searchlight, scanning each figure hiding in the shadows. Those Black Wizards who usually conducted transactions quite brazenly had now restrained their arrogance, either lowering their voices for quick discussions or simply not appearing at all—
Borgin and Burkes, the shop that originally sold Dark Arts items, now had a complete makeover.
The somewhat old display windows had been polished to a shine, and the items inside were no longer those soul-draining tools, but rather seemingly normal magical artifacts, replicas of ancient books, and even a few droopy magic plants.
On the storefront hangs a brand-new sign, "Starry Sky Limited Liability Company — Knockturn Alley Branch."
Inside the shop, Mundungus felt as if the uniform he was wearing was about to suffocate him, the Muggle tie felt like a noose, making him uncomfortable — however, it did not show on his face. In front of him, a goblin with a wrinkled face and holding a brown paper bag was trembling.
"...Don't try that with me."
Mundungus lightly tapped the counter, the newly cleaned surface gleamed, "What price Borgin offers you is none of my concern, now I call the shots, this batch is for this amount, times have changed, Goblin, have you been hiding in your hole for thousands of years? Do you think you can still use those old tricks?"
His voice was deep, trying to imitate the demeanor of the godfather recommended by William in a Muggle movie he remembered. Unfortunately, his slightly slick appearance considerably weakened the aura, but the two black-clothed subordinates standing like guardians on either side behind him compensated well for that.
They were expressionless, their right hands constantly touching their wands, exuding an aura that kept strangers at bay.
The goblin's pointed ears drooped, its round black eyes rotated back and forth, finally, under Mundungus's silent gaze, it pressed its hand onto the parchment contract on the table.
"A pleasure doing business, sir."
Mundungus flashed a genuine smile, he waved his hand, and behind him, a wizard handed over a small bag, filled with heavy Galleons.
The goblin nodded in response, first saluting by taking off its hat, then turned and disappeared into the shadows of the alley.
"These goblins."
Mundungus narrowed his eyes, opened the brown paper bag, and looked at the items inside which clearly originated from Gringotts Vault. He instructed his subordinates behind him, "Log it as Class D collection, ensure there's no leftover curse, don't bring any unclean items into the warehouse."
"Yes, Mr. Fletcher."
A subordinate responded, took the bag, and swiftly turned towards the back.
Only then did Mundungus relax, slumping into the armchair that felt a bit stiff according to his habits, casually tugging at the tie strangling his neck.
Although the current image required a disguise, this feeling of holding power and being feared was indeed more comfortable than the days spent hustling and worrying about Aurors or enemies seeking revenge in the Hog's Head Inn.
Though the boss's demands were maddeningly strict, with talks of "standardized processes," "compliant operations," "performance reports," and random audits that made his head spin, at least... it's safe, and the bag gradually filling with Galleons along with his rising status is tangible.
Controlling the flow channels of Knockturn Alley was actually just a guise for the company (because they were too lazy to think of a new name, they simply called it Starry Sky) in their business expansion...
This place was where the British Magic Realm concealed filth, Black Wizards, renegade goblins, murderers... Knockturn Alley could hide these things, naturally, it could also conceal their preparations.
William had tasked him to plant a stake here without attracting large-scale attention. Though the grand usage of that "stake," the global network, was beyond his comprehension, fortunately, the task was not too difficult, and maintaining order was a convenient matter.
Though such actions might upset the Black Wizards who were used to disorder, but...
They could only be upset, if they really tried any tricks behind the scenes, it would be simple enough, knocking on a door late at night could settle anything in "negotiation." As for the troubles that might happen after the "negotiation" ...no, it's not a problem at all—
After all, the entire Ministry of Magic and half of the Wizard Clans in the Wizarding World were "on their side."
What, you ask where the other half went?
...Actually, only half remains.
While his mind wandered, Mundungus picked up another report on the table regarding cooperation with a new Trick Workshop in Diagon Alley that opened recently, talking about establishing brand effects and subtly transforming the Wizarding World, the first step was to make "advertisements" reach every household... wait, what is this "online shopping" stuff?
Just as the man was getting a headache from reading, the shop's doorbell rang crisply.
A figure wearing a dark gray travel cloak, covered in dust, walked in, the hood pulled down low, obscuring most of the face.
Mundungus instantly became alert, his hand under the counter immediately gripping the wand hilt, and behind him, the remaining subordinates slightly adjusted their stances, their focus locking on the newcomer.
The newcomer paused for a moment but quickly walked up to the counter.
"I'm looking for Mr. Fletcher."
A deep, slightly hoarse voice emerged from under the hood.
"I am him." Mundungus squinted, carefully scrutinizing the person, attempting to deduce their identity from the exposed jawline, "What can I do for you?"
The person did not remove the hood, instead slowly raised a hand and placed an elegantly designed bronze emblem gently on the counter. The emblem had complex runes engraved on its surface, with intertwined letters "W.R" at the center.