Chapter 228: Conspiracy
Old Crabbe's ambitions extended far beyond merely preserving his family's status.
He wanted the Crabbe family to become one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.
It wasn't an impossible dream.
After all, the Sacred Twenty-Eight no longer truly consisted of twenty-eight families. Several bloodlines had died out during the war against Lord Voldemort.
If he could seize control of Wizard Legends—or even secure a significant share of it—the Crabbe family might very well rise into those prestigious ranks.
Of course, he wasn't delusional enough to believe the Crabbes could accomplish such a feat alone.
He would need allies.
In that regard, his thinking was remarkably similar to Old Carrow's.
Just as he reached for a quill to begin writing letters, a sudden flutter of wings interrupted his thoughts.
Turning toward the sound, he saw an unfamiliar owl pecking insistently at the windowpane.
At first, he had no intention of answering it.
Then his eyes caught the crest hanging around the owl's neck.
He froze.
The Carrow family crest.
He recognized it instantly.
Though the Carrows' former glory had long since faded and their younger generation was alarmingly thin, a dying camel was still larger than a horse. So long as Old Carrow remained alive, the family would not truly fall.
In fact, the Carrows were one of Old Crabbe's primary targets.
Old Carrow had no direct heirs left.
They had all perished during the war against the Death Eaters.
True, several collateral relatives of the family still lived among Muggles, but they were all Squibs.
There was no chance Old Carrow would entrust the family legacy to them.
If the Crabbes could cultivate a close relationship with the Carrows, they might be able to enter the Sacred Twenty-Eight at a far lower cost.
With that thought in mind, Old Crabbe hurried to open the window and welcome the owl inside.
He immediately summoned a house-elf and ordered it to bring the bird a selection of imported nuts.
What happened next nearly made his blood pressure spike.
The owl merely glanced at him.
Not a normal glance, either.
Its eyes carried a distinctly human look of disdain.
Then, without even sparing a look for the expensive nuts laid before it, the owl spread its wings and took off again.
It vanished into the night sky.
Old Crabbe stood there with the untouched bowl of nuts in his hands, his expression darkening by the second.
Even the Carrow family's owl looked down on him.
The owl felt miserable.
Why, of all things, had its master chosen it to deliver a letter to a family that wasn't even part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight?
It couldn't help but envy the other owls.
The very air around this place felt polluted to it. After spending only a short time here, it already felt as though its feathers had become dirty.
I'll need a thorough cleaning when I get back, it thought.
Crabbe, meanwhile, was in an equally foul mood.
He had just been looked down upon by an owl.
An owl!
How dare it?
If not for his lingering caution regarding the Carrow family, he would have blasted the bird out of the sky and roasted it for dinner.
Calm down. Don't get angry.
Taking a deep breath, he forced himself back into his chair and opened the letter bearing the Carrow seal.
An invitation to discuss important business at the Carrow estate?
Excitement immediately surged through him.
Ordinarily, a pure-blood wizard of his standing would never qualify for such a gathering.
Did this mean the Carrow family held him in particularly high regard?
The thought filled him with anticipation.
He immediately ordered his house-elf to prepare his finest robes, selected an expensive cane from his collection, and set off in high spirits.
When he arrived at the Carrow estate, however, his enthusiasm vanished.
The hall was already occupied.
And every single guest present was the head of one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families.
Everyone except him.
For a moment, he froze awkwardly at the entrance, unsure of what to do.
Fortunately, Old Carrow entered just then, breaking the tension.
"Everyone, please take your seats."
After clearing his throat lightly, he motioned for the gathering to sit.
Crabbe seized the opportunity and quietly took a chair at the far end of the table, fully aware of his place in the room.
"I assume you've all heard of Wizard Legends?"
Old Carrow dispensed with pleasantries and got straight to the point.
"Of course."
Karen Avery laughed softly.
"At this point, anyone who hasn't heard of it must be deaf and blind. What is it, Mr. Carrow? Have you become interested in children's games?"
"Naturally."
Old Carrow nodded.
"Who wouldn't be interested in profits of this magnitude? Especially when the meat hanging before us is this fat."
"Five hundred thousand Galleons."
He let out a long sigh.
"That mudblood earned more from drawing pictures on scraps of paper than my family has made from goblin silverware in the past ten years."
Blood-tinged spittle escaped through the gaps in his yellowed teeth as his knuckles tapped against the arm bearing a faded Dark Mark.
"Still, I'm concerned. An operation of this scale cannot exist without powerful backers. Someone must be supporting them from behind the scenes."
Old Travers spoke deliberately.
In truth, he had failed to discover who was backing Wizard Legends. The remark was simply bait to see whether anyone else knew.
Unfortunately for him, Russell had concealed the information extremely well.
The few families who did know the truth had no intention of revealing it. They would be delighted to watch their rivals stumble into disaster.
After all, wizarding families were rarely friends.
Most secretly wished for their competitors' downfall.
"No matter who their backers are,"
Old Carrow said with a sinister smile,
"are we really supposed to fear them when all of us are united?"
His gaze swept across the table.
"If anyone has a worthwhile suggestion, now is the time to share it."
Silence.
No one spoke.
Seeing an opportunity, Crabbe straightened in his chair.
"If no one wishes to begin, then allow me."
Tomorrow night, three trolls will accidentally find their way into the store."
A vicious grin spread across his face.
"And when those idiots discover that their protective enchantments have mysteriously failed, the Daily Prophet will run a detailed exposé about how the company endangered public safety by using substandard defensive wards."
Old Nott had been quietly writing notes with a self-inking quill.
After hearing Crabbe's proposal, he finally stopped.
"Wouldn't something more elegant be preferable?"
He opened a thick folder from the Magical Patent Office.
"Next week, twelve experts in Ancient Runes will jointly accuse the cards of containing serious historical inaccuracies. Shortly afterward, the Department of Magical Education will recommend that all schools ban students from bringing them onto campus."
Naturally, there weren't actually twelve independent experts.
Most of them were scholars employed by the Nott family specifically for this sort of work.
Suddenly, the sharp tapping of a cane echoed through the hall.
Everyone turned toward the source.
It was Lucius Malfoy.
He sat calmly, tapping the silver serpent-headed cane against the floor.
"Lucius, do you have something to say?"
Old Carrow asked, showing no sign of irritation.
"I do."
Lucius rose slowly.
"My apologies, but the Malfoy family will not be participating in this matter."
The room immediately fell silent.
Without waiting for a response, he turned toward the door.
As he passed by Crabbe, however, he paused briefly and lowered his gaze.
"If you're willing to trust me," he said quietly, "stay out of this."
Unfortunately, the greed burning in Crabbe's eyes told him everything he needed to know.
His warning had accomplished nothing.
In that case, there was nothing more to say.
Lucius straightened his robes, turned away, and walked out of the Carrow estate without another word.
(KEEP SUPPORTING THE STORY)
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