Barty Crouch turned out to be far more receptive than Tver had expected.
Once he decided to cooperate with Tver, he didn't waste a moment, immediately sitting down with Marvolio to discuss the arrests of the Death Eaters.
It seemed that this former candidate for Minister hadn't truly lost his desire for power. It had merely been buried deep beneath the surface.
Marvolio, for his part, didn't mind at all. He had been preparing for this operation for a long time and had already sorted out which Death Eaters should be arrested and which ones should not.
"So you're saying we still need to win over the support of some of the Death Eaters?" Barty asked, clearly displeased.
In his eyes, Death Eaters were criminals, and criminals belonged in one place only: Azkaban.
"It's not about us approving of them," Tver said calmly. "Many Death Eaters come from pure-blood families. I'm sure you've already seen just how deeply rooted their influence is in the wizarding world."
"Even if Voldemort fails again, as long as they haven't committed any obvious crimes, they'll still escape punishment."
"If that's the case, why not work with them?"
"Without the backing of that group, even if Voldemort is resurrected, the power he can gather will be significantly reduced."
"As their strength weakens, ours grows. That makes things much easier for us."
Barty found himself nodding in reluctant agreement.
In the past, his uncompromising hatred of evil would never have allowed him to accept such logic.
But the rise and fall he'd experienced in the Ministry had worn down that rigidity.
"Can you guarantee that these Death Eaters will genuinely support us?" he asked.
"No," Tver replied without hesitation. "I never expect loyalty from fence-sitters like them. But as long as their actions lean in our favor, our operations become more advantageous. Isn't that enough?"
He shrugged and took a leisurely sip of pumpkin juice.
"All right," Barty said with a sigh.
"Oh, by the way," Tver added casually, "haven't you recently taken on an assistant named Percy Weasley?"
The name suddenly came back to him.
After officially graduating from Hogwarts, Percy had, under Cynthia's arrangements, become Barty's assistant.
On the surface, nothing seemed different from his previous life. But behind the scenes, he served as the link between Tver and Barty, as well as an extra hand to counter Fudge.
"What about him?" Barty glanced at Cynthia. "I remember he was arranged by you. Don't tell me he's one of yours as well?"
"He's our partner," Tver corrected him. "If anything comes up in the future, you can pass messages to me through him."
As expected, Barty let out a cold snort.
"Looks like you've planted quite a few pieces on the Ministry's board."
Tver ignored the barb, tipped his head back, and finished the pumpkin juice in his cup.
"If you still have questions, discuss them with Marvolio and the others," he said. "As for now, we need to head to the next place while they're still on duty."
"On duty?" Barty echoed.
Tver didn't bother explaining. With a flick of his hand, the cup vanished, and he led Cynthia and Marvolio toward the door.
"I'll let you know when Voldemort comes calling. When that happens, just step out and avoid the situation."
After a brief pause, Barty suddenly called out to them as they were about to Apparate.
"Wait. Can you guarantee my son's safety?"
"I can guarantee that he'll ultimately end up in the Ministry's hands," Tver replied. "As for how he's dealt with after that, it will depend on your influence within the Ministry, future Minister."
With a casual wave, Tver's figure disappeared into the blazing sunlight.
"…Looks like there's really no way to refuse now," Barty murmured to himself as he stood at the doorway.
...
Meanwhile, Tver and the others arrived at their second destination of the day.
Gringotts.
It was a towering, snow-white building rising above the surrounding shops. Beside the gleaming bronze doors stood a goblin in a scarlet uniform trimmed with gold.
Tver walked straight up the white stone steps toward him.
Goblins were generally short, and this one was no exception. He barely reached half of Cynthia's height.
Yet his hands and feet were unusually long, and his round head was far larger than a human's.
As Tver and his companions entered, the goblin bowed to them.
A second silver door appeared before them, engraved with Gringotts' warning inscription.
To Tver, such warnings were little more than empty posturing.
The moment they stepped inside, two goblins bowed and led them into a vast marble hall.
On either side of the hall sat roughly a hundred goblins behind long counters. Some weighed coins on scales, others examined gemstones through monocles while hurriedly jotting entries into large ledgers.
Countless doors lined the hall as well, each seemingly leading somewhere different. Goblins continuously guided visitors in and out according to their needs.
"Esteemed guests, may I ask what business brings you to Gringotts today?" the goblin to Tver's left asked with a bow.
"Who's in charge here?" Tver asked.
He swept his gaze across the hall. The goblins' hierarchy seemed to be based on age. The younger ones worked diligently, while the wrinkled old goblins strolled about at their leisure.
Was the eldest goblin the one in charge?
The guide goblin sized up the three young people in front of him.
Judging by appearance alone, they certainly looked wealthy.
But this was Gringotts. It recognized gold, not faces.
"All business can be handled here in the main hall," the goblin said. "No matter how large your request, there's no need to trouble our supervisor."
"What about this kind of business?" Cynthia said calmly as she produced a heavy sack and pulled it open just enough for him to see inside.
Gems.
Even through that small opening, the goblin felt as though the brilliant light nearly blinded him.
He tried to cry out, but only a strangled sound escaped his throat, as if he'd been choked by sheer shock.
There was another way to convert currency into Galleons. One could purchase large quantities of precious gems or rare minerals. Goblins were never stingy with Galleons when buying such things.
As the face mask business expanded, even with Tver repeatedly insisting on distributing profits, their accumulated funds had already grown into staggering amounts.
The figures sitting in the bank accounts were climbing at an astonishing rate.
And if they were going to win over the Malfoys, it was time to start converting that wealth into Galleons.
Unlike before, when he had to proceed cautiously, Tver now had more than enough confidence to negotiate with Gringotts.
"I'll take you to meet our supervisor, Mr. Ingus," the goblin said at once.
He stood there in shock for a long moment, swallowing several times before realizing how rude he'd been.
Hastily bowing in apology, he raised a hand and pointed toward the far end of the hall.
There stood a door unlike the rest, a dark gold color that immediately set it apart.