Chapter 121: The Exchange Rate on the Day of the Fall, The New Minister's Empty Check
Moen lowered his voice, his gaze sweeping over Harrybeside him intentionally or unintentionally: "The interior space has four rooms and a living room, comes with a constant temperature system, infinite water circulation, and an invisibility barrier. If... I mean if, you suddenly need to go 'camping' in the wild, this thing can save your lives."
Harry froze.
He understood Moen's implication.
Moen knew they were going on the run? He had even prepared equipment for them?
"Thank you, Moen." Arthur Weasley said gratefully.
Moen waved his hand and found a corner to sit down.
He did not blend into the joyful crowd, but instead, like an observer, held a glass of champagne in his hand while his eyes kept fixed on the sky.
He was waiting.
Night fell.
The wedding reached its climax.
Suddenly, a silver light cut through the night sky.
A huge silver lynx landed in the center of the dance floor; it was Kingsley's Patronus.
It opened its mouth and emitted Kingsley's deep and anxious voice: "The Ministry of Magic has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."
The whole venue instantly fell into dead silence.
Immediately after, screams erupted everywhere.
Countless Black dots appeared in the sky, and the Death Eaters descended like a dark cloud.
"Run! Run quickly!" Lupin shouted.
Harry pulled Hermione and Ron, preparing to use Apparition.
He looked back at Moen.
Moen was still sitting there, holding his wine glass, unmoving.
Around him, the Werewolf Guard that had been lying in ambush suddenly sprang into action; they did not attack the Death Eaters but quickly formed a human wall to protect the panicked guests.
"Don't panic."
Moen's voice resonated through the entire venue via [magic Amplification]: "This is private property. Any uninvited guests will be considered illegal trespassers."
Moen stood up and tapped his cane heavily on the ground.
[Alchemy Array · Activate].
A huge golden light shield rose instantly, covering the entire wedding venue and blocking all the green light beams shot at them from the outside.
"Go, Harry."
Moen, across the chaotic crowd, mouthed to Harry: "The game has begun."
Harry gritted his teeth and gripped Hermione's hand tightly.
"Let's go!"
Crack!
The trio disappeared via Apparition.
Watching Harry leave, Moen put down his wine glass.
He looked at the Death Eaters bombarding the light shield, but did not counterattack; instead, he said to Alfred beside him: "Write this down."
"Every chair and every patch of grass damaged today must be charged to the Ministry of Magic's account."
"Tell their new Minister, Pius Thicknesse..."
A cold glint flashed in Moen's eyes: "...If they don't pay compensation, I will cut off the maintenance funds for the Ministry of Magic's Floo Network. Let him ride a broomstick to work himself."
The day after the Ministry of Magic fell.
Underground in London, the Ministry of Magicheadquarters.
The huge "magic is Might" statue had already been erected, pressing down upon the figures of countless Muggles. The air was filled with an atmosphere of terror and slaughter.
In the Minister's office, Pius Thicknesse sat in the chair that originally belonged to Scrimgeour.
His eyes were dull, controlled by the Imperius Curse, like a marionette.
Opposite him, Yaxley and several other Death Eaters were slapping the table in exasperation.
"No money?! How is that possible!" Yaxley roared, "We have taken over the entire Ministry of Magic! The vaults should be piled high with Galleons!"
"There is indeed money in the vaults, Yaxley."
Lucius Malfoy stood by the window, his face pale, holding an urgent letter just delivered from Gringotts.
His voice carried a deep sense of powerlessness.
"But that money... we can't touch it."
"What do you mean?" Yaxley glared at him, "Do you mean to say those Goblins dare to defy the Dark Lord's orders?"
"The Goblins cited Article 73 of the 'Gringotts Wartime Special Provisions'."
Lucius waved the letter in his hand as if reading a death sentence: " 'In view of the legal disputes regarding the change of power in the Ministry of Magic, to ensure the safety of depositors' assets, Gringotts is freezing all official Ministry of Magic accounts effective immediately. Any large withdrawals require signed guarantees.' "
"Who is the largest creditor?"
"Moen White." Lucius sighed.
"That little brat!" Yaxley roared, "Then go catch him! Or just rob the bank!"
"Rob the bank?" Lucius looked at him as if he were an idiot, "Do you know who designed Gringotts' current security system? It's White Security Company. There are not only dragons there now, but also alchemical machine guns."
"And..."
Lucius pointed to the magic exchange rate display on the wall.
The numbers on it were jumping crazily.
[Official Ministry of Magic Galleon Exchange Rate: Plunged 60%]
[White Alchemy Vouchers: Rose 150%]
"Moen issued a notice this morning: All stores under the White brand will refuse to accept the old Galleons issued by the Ministry of Magic effective immediately, and will only accept physical gold or 'White Vouchers'."
"In other words..." Lucius spread his hands in despair, "If you want to buy a bottle of Potion to heal the Dark Lord, the Galleons in your hand can't even buy a bottle cap."
The office fell into dead silence.
This group of arrogant Dark Wizards suddenly realized that although they held the power of life and death, they were still paupers held in the palm of that young man's hand.
"Go talk to him."
A cold, raspy voice sounded from the shadows of the room.
Voldemort, not appearing in person, issued the order through magic communication.
"I want my army to have equipment. Lucius, this is your task. At all costs... make him 'cooperate'."
Lucius shuddered and bowed his head to accept the order: "Yes, Master."
But he was smiling bitterly in his heart: Cooperate? That would mean using the Malfoy family's savings to fill the hole!
Late that same night, Number 12, Grimmauld Place.
Three disheveled figures appeared out of thin air on the steps of the old Black family house.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
After fleeing the wedding, they encountered Death Eaters on Tottenham Court Road, and finally had to flee here.
"Be careful." Harry raised his wand and pushed open the scratch-covered Black door, "This place might be full of traps set by Professor Moody."
"If Snape can get in too, then this place is not safe." Hermione said worriedly.
They walked into the foyer.
The dust, cobwebs, and the roaring portrait of Sirius's mother that they had expected did not appear.
Instead, they were greeted by soft lighting, sparkling clean floors, and a faint lavender scent in the air.
"Did I go to the wrong door?" Ron rubbed his eyes, "Is this still that haunted house?"
"This looks like... it has been renovated." Hermione looked at the wallpaper in surprise; there were no longer peeling stains on it, but brand new silver-green patterns.
Harry walked cautiously to the kitchen door.
He remembered this was where the Order of the Phoenix held meetings.
Chapter 122: The Fridge at Grimmauld Place, the Auction at the Courtroom.
The door pushed open.
The kitchen was brand new. A snow-white tablecloth covered the long table, and a warm fire burned in the fireplace.
In the center of the table lay a conspicuous piece of parchment, weighted down by a Galleon.
Harry walked over and picked up the parchment.
"To: The Trio of Fugitives"
"Since you have chosen this place as a safe house, please abide by the move-in rules of 'White Property Management Company'."
"1. The fridge contains enough food for you for a month: White Manor specialty steak, fresh vegetables, butterbeer. Don't be polite, put it on Mr. Black's tab."
"2. The Dark Arts items upstairs have been cleared, but I advise you not to touch the cabinet with the 'Personal Items' sign."
"3. If you encounter an emergency, such as Death Eaters breaking in, please press the red button on the wall. That will trigger the'surprise' I left behind."
"Happy fleeing."
"Your creditor, M.W."
"It's Moen." Harry put down the letter, his feelings extremely complicated.
"My God! Look at this fridge!" Ron opened the huge magicfridge and exclaimed, "It's all meat! And ice cream! This is even better than the food at Hogwarts!"
"What does he think this place is?" Hermione was a bit angry, but more relieved, "A vacation villa?"
"Kreacher!" Harry tentatively shouted.
Pop.
The House-elf Kreacher appeared.
But he wasn't filthy and cursing like before. He was wearing a clean tea towel printed with the words "White Housekeeping," and his back was straight.
"Master Harry." Kreacher bowed. Although his expression was still somewhat arrogant, his tone was much more respectful, "Mr. White has instructed that if you come, Kreacher must provide five-star service."
"Moen... what did he do to you?" Harry asked.
"Mr. White gave Kreacher honor." A light flickered in Kreacher's large eyes, "He repaired Master Regulus's portrait and also promised... if Kreacher behaves well, he will help Kreacher get back Master Regulus's locket."
Harry was stunned.
The locket!
He suddenly remembered that the real locket had already been taken by Moen.
"Moen had everything planned." Harry sat in a chair, looking at the table full of delicacies, suddenly feeling the wand in his hand heavy.
"We are running for our lives, struggling desperately." Harry smiled bitterly, "And he... he is arranging our room and board, and even buying people's hearts."
"At least we don't have to go hungry." Ron had already started frying steak, "Harry, eat something. Since he is the creditor, eating him into poverty is a form of revenge!"
Harry looked at the sizzling steak, and his stomach rumbled uncontrollably.
"Alright."
Harry picked up the knife and fork and cut off a piece of meat fiercely.
"Only when we are full will we have the strength to find those Horcruxes... although I feel that Moen might already know where they are."
...
Meanwhile, Hogwarts.
In front of the window of the Headmaster's office.
Severus Snape stood alone, wearing his BlackHeadmaster's robes.
He watched the night outside, the school surrounded by Dementors.
The fire in the fireplace flashed.
A piece of parchment flew out and landed on his desk.
Snape opened the letter.
It was Moen's handwriting:
"Respected Headmaster:"
"Regarding the 'Defense Against the Dark Arts' textbook for the new semester, I have already prepared a batch of'special teaching aids' for you. In addition, for the potential corporal punishment by Carrow siblings, my medical team is already on standby."
"Please ensure the student survival rate. This is the bottom line of our cooperation."
"Attachment: An old photo of Lily Potter (restored version)."
Snape's fingers trembled slightly.
He picked up the photo and watched the girl with red hair and green eyes smiling at him. The photo was restored to perfection, just like it was taken yesterday.
"Moen White..."
Snape carefully tucked the photo into his inner pocket, his voice hoarse:
"You... damn devil."
He turned around, his Black robes billowing, and walked toward the Headmaster's throne.
Since he had made the deal, he had to play the part to the end.
The Dark Age had arrived.
But in this darkness, there was a golden net, silently spreading out, catching everyone who was about to fall.
September 2nd, the underground level of the Ministry of Magic.
The air here was even colder than the streets outside.
Dementors glided through the corridor, the chill they brought seeping into the bone marrow.
Harry Potter was currently disguised as the burly Ministry official Albert Runcorn. He wore heavy robes, cold sweat on his forehead, following closely behind the Death Eaternamed Yaxley.
"Go to the courtroom, Runcorn." Yaxley ordered roughly, "That Mudblood Cattermole's wife is on trial. You should go listen too."
Harry had to nod and follow Yaxley into the elevator.
The elevator doors opened, ninth level.
This was no longer the mysterious corridor it once was, but an entrance filled with an atmosphere of despair.
"This place is disgusting."
A familiar voice rang out at the elevator entrance, carrying undisguised disdain.
Harry looked up sharply.
He saw Moen White standing there, followed by four heavily armed Werewolf bodyguards.
He wasn't wearing a Ministry uniform, but a sharply tailored dark gray pinstripe suit, with a gold "Highest Level Pass" pinned to his chest.
When Yaxley saw Moen, his original arrogant momentum instantly deflated by half.
"Mr. White." Yaxley squeezed out an ugly smile, "Why are you here?"
"To see where my money went."
Moen tapped the newly hung "magic is Might" sign on the wall with his cane:
"This kind of decoration with no aesthetic value actually reimbursed five thousand Galleons of mine? Yaxley, I think the audit department needs to have a talk with you."
Yaxley's face turned pale: "This... this was the Dark Lordpersonally..."
"Lead the way." Moen interrupted him, "I heard Ms. Umbridge is holding court below? Just in time, I'm short of hands."
...
Courtroom Ten.
This used to be the place where Harry was tried.
Now, it had become the entrance to hell.
Dementors hovered high above.
Below, Mary Cattermole was sitting in that chair with chains, shivering.
On the judge's bench, Dolores Umbridge sat in the highest seat.
She was still wearing that nauseating pink suit, and although there was no locket around her neck, she was wearing a heavy gold chain.
Beside her sat Pius Thicknesse.
"... Who did you steal the wand from?" Umbridge asked in a syrupy and vicious voice, "Not from a Wizard, then who?"
Chapter 123: The Pink Nightmare Returns and the "Requisitioned" Prisoners
"I didn't steal it! I bought it from Ollivander!" Mrs. Cattermole cried out.
"Liar." Umbridge wore an expression of enjoyment; it was her favorite part. "Dementor, give her a..."
"Stop."
The heavy oak doors were pushed open.
Moen White strode in, his leather shoes clicking crisply against the marble floor.
"White?" Umbridge's eyelids twitched violently when she saw Moen.
It was the psychological trauma left behind from being blown up by fireworks and berated by newspapers in the past.
But now, with the Dark Lord backing her, she felt like she could handle it again.
"The trial is underway, Mr. White," Umbridge said in a shrill voice. "This is a sacred moment for purging the bloodlines of the Wizarding world, and unauthorized personnel..."
"I am not unauthorized personnel. I am the biggest taxpayer."
Moen walked straight to the side of the witness stand. The four Werewolf Guards immediately dispersed, subtly forming a perimeter around the Dementor.
"Deputy Minister Umbridge," Moen said, pulling a document from his coat and tossing it onto the trial table. "My factory has seen a surge in orders recently, and there is a severe shortage of labor."
"Since the Ministry of Magic intends to deal with these 'Mudbloods'..." Moen pointed at Mrs. Cattermole on the chair, then at the dozen or so people waiting to be tried nearby:
"...instead of wasting food by sending them to Azkaban, you might as well sell them to me."
"Sell?!" The whole room was in an uproar. Even Harry, disguised as Runcorn, was stunned.
"This is a trial!" Umbridge said, exasperated. "They are criminals! We are confiscating their wands!"
"Once their wands are confiscated, they will make the best manual laborers."
Moen looked coldly at Umbridge, a flash of golden light crossing his eyes: "For every head, I will pay the Ministry of Magic 50 Galleons. That amount is enough to pay the Aurors' salaries for next month."
"Or..." Moen leaned in closer to Umbridge, lowering his voice. "Do you want me to cut off the Ministry of Magic's heating system as well? I heard the fireplace in the Minister's office hasn't been working very well lately."
Umbridge choked.
It was September, and the lower levels were incredibly cold. If Moen really cut off the fuel supply...
"Fine... fine." Umbridge gritted her teeth. "Since it is for economic development... you may take them. But the wands must stay!"
"Deal."
Moen turned around and waved to the Werewolf Guard: "Take them all away. Send them to the C-section factory to scrub cauldrons."
The werewolves stepped forward, roughly but actually protectively pulling up the terrified Muggle-borns, putting handcuffs on them, and leading them out of the courtroom.
Mrs. Cattermole was led away crying; she thought she was going to be a low-class slave, not knowing that it was the only path to freedom.
Just then, an incident occurred. Harry, disguised as Runcorn, had been standing nearby.
He saw Ron, disguised as Reg Cattermole, Mary's husband, looking on in despair as his wife was taken away.
Harry couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't just watch Moen treat these people like livestock, even if it was to save them.
"Stupefy!" Harry suddenly drew his wand and hit Umbridge.
The pink toad let out a scream and fell from the high platform.
"Harry!" Hermione, disguised as a clerk, exclaimed. The scene instantly descended into chaos.
The Dementors began to stir and lunged at the trio.
"Expecto Patronum!" Harry shouted. A silver stag charged out and knocked the Dementors away.
"It's Potter! He is Harry Potter!" Yaxley roared. "Catch him! Seal the exits!"
Death Eaters and Aurors rushed forward. Moen stood in the center of the chaos, not making a move. He was like a stabilizing anchor.
A Death Eater raised his wand, intending to ambush Harryfrom behind. *Thwack.* Moen's cane extended backward "inadvertently," precisely tripping the Death Eater by his ankle.
The Death Eater fell flat on his face, his wand flying away.
"Oops, my apologies," Moen said insincerely. "The floor is too slippery."
Harry glanced back at Moen. Their eyes met across the chaotic crowd.
Moen didn't speak, just tilted his head slightly, indicating a direction—the elevator.
Harry gritted his teeth, grabbed Ron and Hermione, and rushed into the elevator.
"Chase them! Don't let them get away!" Yaxley scrambled up, ready to pursue.
"Wait, Mr. Yaxley." Moen suddenly blocked Yaxley's path, holding a long parchment list in his hand.
"Since the trial has been interrupted, should we verify the accounts for that 'human trafficking' transaction just now? 15 people in total, 750 Galleons. Do you want to pay by card or cash?"
"Get lost! White!" Yaxley stamped his feet in frustration.
"What do you mean by that?" Moen's expression darkened, and his [Dragon Might] erupted.
In those few seconds of delay, the elevator doors closed. The trio of Harry, Ron, and Hermione successfully escaped.
Half an hour later, in the Ministry of Magic lobby. Although Harry and the others had escaped, the Ministry of Magicwas in utter chaos.
Moen, with the Werewolf Guard, escorted the dozen or so "purchased" prisoners as they marched grandly out of the main entrance.
Once they were outside the gate and into a deserted alley, "Release them," Moen commanded. The werewolves unlocked the handcuffs.
Those Muggle-born Wizards looked at Moen, trembling, thinking they were about to be sent to a more terrifying place.
"Listen." Moen looked at these people and pulled a Portkeyfrom his pocket: "This is a one-way Portkey to France. It will activate in five minutes."
"Once you get there, change your names, and do not return to Britain. Not until the war is over."
Mrs. Cattermole looked at him in disbelief: "You... you're letting us go? But you paid for us..."
"That was blood money." Moen tossed the boot to them.
"In this world, some things can be traded, like freedom. Some things cannot be traded, like... my mood."
Moen glanced disdainfully in that direction, toward the basement where Umbridge was: "I just don't want to see that kind of pink toad killing people at will on my turf. It would dirty the floor."
*Hum—* The Portkey activated. A dozen or so people vanished in a blue light.
Moen stood in the empty alley, adjusting his tie.
"Alfred."
"Yes, young master."
"Harry and the others should have returned to Grimmauld Place by now," Moen said, looking at the sky. "But that place has already been exposed."
"They will soon begin to wander."
"Initiate the [Wilderness Feeding Plan]." A smile tugged at the corners of Moen's mouth: "Have our owls carry the best tents and food. In this cold winter, only with a full stomach will Savior have the strength to fight them."
Chapter 124: Five-Star Takeout in the Wilderness and an Irresistible Bill
September 2nd, late at night.
After a suffocating sensation of being squeezed, Harry, Hermione, and Ron fell into a pitch-black forest.
All around them were damp fallen leaves and howling cold winds.
"Ah——!!!"
Ron let out a shrill, miserable scream.
He collapsed on the ground, his face deathly pale, his left arm twisted in an unnatural way, blood staining his sleeve.
"Ron!" Hermione rushed over, tore open his sleeve, and then gasped.
Splinching. A large chunk of flesh was missing from Ron, as if it had been gouged out by an invisible knife.
"Quick! Essence of Dittany!" Harry scrambled to search through Hermione's small beaded bag, which had been cast with an Undetectable Extension Charm.
Hermione's hands trembled as she dripped the Potion.
Smoke rose; Ron fainted from the pain. Although the bleeding had stopped, the wound remained gruesome.
"We can't go back to Grimmauld Place." Harry panted, "Yaxley grabbed your arm; he might have seen the location. That safe house is compromised."
"Then where do we go?" Hermione asked with a sob, "We have nothing..."
"No, we do."
Harry suddenly remembered something.
He pulled a shrunken metal cube from his pocket—the gift Moen had given to the Weasleys at Bill's wedding, which Arthur had later stuffed into Harry's hand.
[White Heavy Industries · Wilderness Survival Shelter (Supreme Edition)]
"Step back."
Harry threw the cube onto the clearing.
A soft sound of machinery whirring followed.
The metal cube rapidly unfolded, transformed, and inflated.
Within seconds, a luxurious tent camouflaged as a giant rock with stealth patterns appeared before them.
Click—hum!
The three of them struggled to carry Ron inside.
As soon as they entered, warm air rushed to meet them.
This was not one of those flimsy canvas tents.
The floor was covered with thick carpets, magic oil lamps hung on the walls, and there was even a fireplace with an automatic heating function and a small alchemical refrigerator in the corner.
"This..." Hermione was stunned, "This is simply... a mobile hotel."
Harry placed Ron on the soft sofa bed.
Although the environment was comfortable, it could not heal Ron's serious injury, nor could it dispel the fear in their hearts.
They had just escaped death at the Ministry of Magic and were now wanted fugitives with an uncertain future.
"Grr—"
Harry's stomach growled. They hadn't eaten all day.
Hermione opened the refrigerator.
Empty.
Aside from a few bottles of water, there was nothing, as this was a new tent and hadn't been stocked yet.
"We need to get some food." Harry said desperately, "Maybe I can go to a nearby village and steal some..."
Tap, tap, tap.
A rhythmic tapping sound suddenly came from the observation window, which was camouflaged as a rock crevice in the tent.
The three of them were startled and simultaneously raised their wands.
"Who is it?!"
There was no one outside the window.
Only a massive, pitch-black eagle owl with a silver leg band on its claw was there.
It was impatiently tapping the glass with its beak, its eyes seeming to say: "Open the door, delivery service."
Harry recognized this type of owl.
It was a dedicated courier for White Logistics.
"Moen?" Harry hesitated for a moment before opening the window.
The eagle owl flew in, not flying about aimlessly, but heading straight for the table. It dropped a heavy package, then extended a claw, to which a small leather pouch for payment was tied.
Harry opened the package.
A tantalizing aroma instantly filled the entire tent.
Inside were three aluminum foil thermal containers.
[French Beef Bourguignon], [Cream of Mushroom Soup], [Freshly Baked Baguette].
There was also a purple bottle, [Powerful Skele-Gro and Body Repair Serum (Exclusively for Ron)].
On top of the food lay a printed parchment Bill:
[White Wartime Supply Delivery Note NO.001]
Customer: Harry Potter (VIP 001):
Dean Forest (Automatically locked via tent positioning system) Current Location
Order Details:
Three-person deluxe dinner — 15 Galleons
Powerful repair Potion — 50 Galleons
Emergency delivery fee (War zone expedited) — 20 Galleons
Total: 85 Galleons
Note: Given your current status as a fugitive, it is recommended to use Gringotts fingerprint payment. Also, Mr. Ron Weasley's treatment cannot be delayed, otherwise he will become a cripple, which would affect my team's combat effectiveness.
——Your loyal arms dealer, M.W.
Harry held the Bill, looking at the owl still waiting for payment, then at the steaming food on the table and the unconscious Ron.
A feeling of extreme absurdity welled up in his heart.
They were on the run! Being hunted by the entire Ministry of Magic! Surviving in the wilderness!
And yet, Moen could actually send them takeout?! And it was exorbitantly expensive!
"85 Galleons..." Ron groaned in his stupor, "Just kill me... it's too expensive..."
"Shut up, Ron."
Harry sighed, counted out a handful of gold coins from Hermione's bag, and stuffed them into the owl's leather pouch.
He had withdrawn quite a bit of money at Gringotts and kept it with Hermione.
"Thank you." Harry said to the owl.
The owl let out a haughty cry, as if mocking this bunch of poor wretches, then spread its wings and flew out the window, disappearing into the night.
Hermione quickly fed the purple Potion to Ron.
The effect was immediate. Ron's originally pale complexion quickly flushed, and that terrible wound began to heal at a speed visible to the naked eye.
"It's amazing." Hermione exclaimed, "You can't buy this quality of Potion on the market at all."
The three sat around the table and began to eat that expensive dinner.
The beef was stewed until tender and flavorful, and the hot soup dispelled the cold in their bodies.
"It's really delicious." Ron said while eating, his mouth full, "Although that jerk charged us a sky-high price, this beef is really good."
Harry took a sip of soup and looked at the warm fireplace.
He suddenly felt that he was still on Moen's chessboard.
No matter where he fled, whether at the Ministry of Magicor in the wilderness, the shadow of that Slytherin always loomed over him.
"He is monitoring us." Harry said in a low voice.
"He is protecting his 'investment'." Hermione corrected, looking at the Bill, "There is a positioning system on the tent. As long as we are still in this tent, he can find us."
"Then should we throw away the tent?" Ron asked.
Harry looked at the raging storm outside, then at the comfortable bed.
"No."
Harry took a bite of bread, his eyes becoming determined, or perhaps helpless:
"Since we are going to fight Voldemort, we need strength. Since Moen wants to do business..."
"...then we will be the big client that makes him 'go bankrupt'."
...
Meanwhile, London, White Tower.
Moen White looked at the alchemical map in his hand.
The green dot representing Harry was flickering deep in the Dean Forest.
"Transaction complete."
Moen closed the map and said to Alfred beside him:
"As long as they rely on my supplies, they cannot escape my control."
"Young Master, what is the next step?"
"The next step..."
Moen walked to the display case and looked at the object glittering with cold light inside.
Sword of Gryffindor (Pseudo-Alchemical Replica).
"There are three Horcrux left: Hufflepuff's Cup, Nagini, and Harry himself."
"The Hufflepuff's Cup is at Gringotts; that is my territory."
"Nagini is by Voldemort's side."
Moen's fingers tapped lightly on the glass cabinet:
"Notify Snape. Tell him that the real sword can start 'delivery'."
A mischievous smile curled the corners of Moen's mouth:
"...It is also to give Ron Weasley a chance to 'play the hero' (save Harry), and repair their fragile friendship."
"After all, only a united team can help me win the final Gringotts acquisition war."
Chapter 125: Intercepted Communication, the Locket's Whereabouts, and the Professionalism of "Party B"
Dean Forest.
The torrential rain continued to beat against the tent's protective shield, making a dull thumping sound.
Inside the tent, the trio had just finished that luxury dinner worth 85 Galleons.
Ron leaned back on the cushions, his face much ruddier, though he was still aching over the money.
Hermione sat at the table, the fake locket from the cave in her hand, her brows furrowed.
"R.A.B... Regulus Black," Hermione analyzed. "If he really took the true Horcrux, then it should be at Grimmauld Place. But we searched that whole house and found nothing."
"Maybe Mundungus stole it?" Ron guessed. "That thief takes everything."
"No."
Harry shook his head and pulled an old mirror, only the size of a palm, from his pocket.
The Two-Way Mirror.
Sirius had given it to him, saying he could call anytime he ran into trouble.
"I need to ask Sirius," Harry gripped the mirror. "He's Regulus's older brother; he must know something. And... we need to know where to go next."
Harry took a deep breath toward the mirror and called out softly, "
Sirius? Sirius—"
The mirror's surface rippled for a moment, like waves on water.
Harry stared expectantly at the mirror, hoping to see his godfather's weathered but kind face.
However, a few seconds later, it wasn't Sirius who appeared in the mirror.
Instead, it was a hand wearing a white glove, holding a silk handkerchief and wiping the mirror surface.
The camera zoomed out.
Moen White's handsome, cold, and slightly languid face appeared in the mirror.
The background was his luxurious office in the White Tower, with the brilliant night view of London visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
"Good evening, Mr. Potter."
Moen smiled at the mirror, a smile that made Harry's stomach churn.
"Moen?!" Harry nearly dropped the mirror. "How is it you? Where's Sirius?"
"Mr. Black is busy checking last month's family trust accounts," Moen said indifferently. "As the asset manager, I have the duty to filter out some... invalid nuisance calls for him."
"This is my mirror! I want to talk to my godfather!" Harryroared. "This concerns Voldemort's Horcrux!"
"I know."
Moen set down his pen and leaned forward, occupying the entire mirror.
"Regarding that Slytherin's Locket... is this what you're looking for?"
Moen took a golden locket inlaid with emeralds from a drawer.
It looked ancient and exquisite, shimmering under the lights.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione all crowded in front of the mirror, their eyes nearly popping out.
"It... it's in your hands?!" Hermione screamed.
"Of course," Moen toyed with the locket. "Two years ago, when I was helping the House of Black clear out some junk, I recycled it along the way."
"You knew all along it was a Horcrux?" Harry felt a moment of breathlessness.
"I am an alchemist, Harry," Moen did not deny it. "I am always sensitive to high-density energy aggregates."
"Then why didn't you tell us?!" Harry questioned angrily. "Do you know how much risk we took to find this thing? We nearly died at the Ministry of Magic! Ron even got Splinched!"
"That was necessary training."
Moen's voice was as cold as a machine:
"If I didn't let you hit a few walls, how would you learn to think like adult Wizards? How would you learn to survive in desperate situations?"
"And..."
Moen opened the locket's lid.
It was completely empty inside, with no Black eyes and no soul fragment of Voldemort.
"...the contents inside have already been disposed of by me. It is now just an expensive antique; apart from being sold for money, it is useless."
Harry stared blankly at the empty box.
He felt like a fool. The thing they had risked their lives for had been "used" as a battery by Moen two years ago.
"So what are we supposed to do now?" Ron asked despairingly. "Go home and sleep?"
"No."
Moen closed the locket and tossed it aside casually.
"Since the first project has concluded, I am now issuing the second project."
Moen held up one finger:
"Hufflepuff's Cup."
"It is hidden in Gringotts, in Bellatrix Lestrange's vault."
"Gringotts?!" Ron exclaimed. "That's the safest place in the world! Aside from Hogwarts!"
"That was before," Moen corrected. "Now, the White Security Company is responsible for its security upgrades. Although it's harder to get in, it's not impossible."
"You want us to rob a bank?" Hermione looked at Moen in disbelief.
"I am asking you to perform vulnerability testing."
Moen looked at the trio:
"I have the security blueprints for Gringotts, but I cannot give them to you directly. That would be too easy. Voldemort would be suspicious."
"You need to find your own way in. Polyjuice Potion, Imperius Curse, or the Invisibility Cloak... use whatever method you wish."
"As long as you can enter the vault and destroy that cup."
Moen paused and dangled the final bait:
"...I will waive your 85 Galleon debt for tonight's dinner. Furthermore, I will provide you with material support for the next stage."
Harry looked at the high-and-mighty capitalist in the mirror.
He hated Moen.
But he also had to admit that the path Moen pointed out was the only clear one at the moment.
"There's still another Horcrux," Harry asked through gritted teeth. "Since you know everything, tell me, where are the rest?"
"The Ravenclaw's Diadem is with me, destroyed. The ring was with Dumbledore, destroyed. The diary is destroyed. The locket is destroyed. The cup is in Gringotts."
Moen counted on his fingers:
"There are two left."
"One is that snake... It stays by Voldemort's side at all times; you can't touch it for now." Nagini
"And the other..."
Moen looked at Harry, his gaze suddenly becoming somewhat profound, even carrying a hint of... sympathy?
"...the last Horcrux is hidden in the place you'd least expect."
"Where?"
"That is a question for the final exam, Harry."
Moen did not directly reveal the truth that Harry himself was a Horcrux, because Harry's current mentality was too fragile; telling him might cause him to collapse immediately.
"Go handle the cup first. That is your 'graduation design'."
"Oh, right."
Moen seemed to remember something:
"Your current equipment is too poor. Aside from that tent, you don't even have a decent weapon."
"Keep an eye on the surrounding lakes."
Moen smiled mysteriously:
"Professor Snape has been working a part-time job as a 'courier' lately. He might deliver something to you... a relic of Gryffindor."
"That thing can cut through Horcruxes, and it can also cut through your confusion."
Buzz—
The mirror went Black.
The call ended.
Moen had unilaterally cut the connection.
Dead silence filled the tent.
The sound of rain continued to echo.
"He's a complete bastard," Ron cursed. "A total bastard. He's just using us like his employees!"
"But he gave us a lead," Hermione took a deep breath and pulled out some parchment. "Gringotts... Bellatrix's vault... we need Polyjuice Potion. We need hair."
Harry sat on the sofa, still holding the now-dark mirror.
He thought about Moen's final words.
"A relic of Gryffindor."
"Snape is the courier."
"The Sword of Gryffindor," Harry whispered.
"What?"
"He's hinting at the Sword of Gryffindor." Harry stood up, the confusion in his eyes dissipating, replaced by a determined rage. "Moen is right. Regardless of whether he's treating us as employees or pawns... we have to win. We have to kill Voldemort."
"And then..."
Harry looked at his tired reflection in the mirror:
"...and then I'm going to slap that 85 Galleon bill hard onto that handsome face of his."
...London, White Tower.
Moen set down the Two-Way Mirror.
"Notify Snape," he said to Alfred. "He can ship the goods now."
"Set the location at the ice lake in Dean Forest."
Moen walked to the window, looking out at the pitch-Blacknight sky.
"Let our savior sober up in the cold water. And while we're at it... give Ron Weasley a chance to be a hero."
"This team needs a bit of 'cohesion'. And shared suffering, like jumping into an ice lake together, is the best adhesive."
Chapter 126: The Headmaster's Fake, The Midnight Thieves, and the Bought-out Right to Punish
December, Hogwarts Headmaster's Office.
Outside the window, heavy snow fell, masking the castle's murderous aura.
Severus Snape sat in the high-backed chair where AlbusDumbledore once sat, his expression gloomy.
He wore black Headmaster's robes, and his charred right hand was still locked by Moen's gold ring, hidden in his sleeve.
On the desk in front of him lay the ruby-encrusted
Sword of Gryffindor.
"..." Snape cursed under his breath.
The portrait of Phineas Nigellus on the wall had just told him that Potter's trio of fools were wandering around Dean Forest like headless flies, and they seemed to be freezing.
"Bang!"
The office door was violently burst open.
Amycus Carrow and Alecto Carrow, the Death Eatersiblings and current Professors, roughly shoved three students inside.
Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood.
Their faces were bruised and their robes were torn, but their eyes remained defiant.
"Look what we caught, Headmaster!" Amycus sneered, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth. "These three brats tried to steal something! They wanted to steal that sword!"
"To give to Potter, right?" Alecto shrieked, her wandpointing at Ginny Weasley's face. "Traitors! I'm going to teach them a lesson! Cruciatus Curse—"
"Stop."
Snape spoke coldly.
He stood up, his black eyes sweeping over the three students, finally resting on Luna.
Luna didn't look at him; instead, she stared at the ceiling as if there were a bug there that only she could see.
"I won't have the carpets in my office dirtied," Snape said.
"They're thieves!" Amycus roared. "The Dark Lord said that rebels must be severely punished! I want them to taste the torture instruments!"
"Regarding 'punishment'..."
An elegant, lazy voice came from the shadows by the fireplace.
"...I believe it should be decided by the owner of the assets."
Carrow siblings spun around.
Moen White was sitting in a guest armchair, holding a cup of steaming black tea, with an exquisite wool blanket over his legs.
"White?!" Amycus's expression changed. "When did you get here?"
"I've been here." Moen put down his teacup and stood up. "This sword is nominally school property, but in reality, its maintenance costs are covered by the White Foundation."
Moen walked to the desk, picked up the sword, and lightly flicked the blade.
A crisp ring.
Hum—
"A relic of Gryffindor." Moen looked at Ginny. "Admirable courage, Miss Weasley. But stealing is not a good habit, especially when this sword is priceless."
"We did it for Harry!" Neville shouted, though his nose was still bleeding.
"Be quiet, Longbottom."
Moen turned his head to look at Carrow siblings:
"Professors, these three students not only attempted theft but also damaged the door lock I just replaced for the Headmaster's office. This is not just a breach of discipline; it's an economic crime."
"So?" Alecto asked impatiently. "Are you going to make them pay?"
"They can't afford it."
Moen shrugged:
"So, they must pay with their bodies... I mean, labor reform."
Moen pulled a pre-prepared document from his robes:
"Hagrid recently cleared a new Potion plantation on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. That's my property, and it's short of hands to fertilize those dangerous Mandrakes. The work is exhausting, dirty, and dangerous."
"Send them there."
Moen looked at Snape, a certain understanding passing between them:
"Let them do hard labor under that Half-Giant's supervision for a month. I think that will teach them a lesson better than a few Cruciatus Curse. After all, making pure-bloods shovel manure is the ultimate humiliation, isn't it?"
The corner of Snape's mouth twitched imperceptibly.
"An excellent suggestion, Mr. White." Snape turned to Carrow siblings. "Take them to Hagrid. Tell that big fellow that if they dare to slack off, let them stay in the Forbidden Forest at night."
"But..." Amycus still wanted to use torture.
"Take them away!" Snape roared, his headmaster's authority exploding.
Carrow siblings reluctantly escorted the three away.
Before leaving, Luna looked back at Moen, her eyes clear, as if saying, "Thank you for the tea, even though I didn't get to drink it."
Only Snape and Moen remained in the office.
"You saved them." Snape sat back in his chair and tiredly rubbed his brow. "If Carrow siblings had their way, Longbottom might have been tortured to insanity."
"I'm just protecting my 'potential employees'." Moen said flatly. "Neville has a talent for Herbology; I don't want his brain to be ruined."
"Anyway, back to business."
Moen walked to the desk and picked up the real Sword of Gryffindor.
"Is this the 'delivery' you're sending to Potter?"
"Yes." Snape looked at the sword. "This sword can destroy a Horcrux. Dumbledore left it for him."
"But you can't take this sword away. Voldemort will periodically check if it's still here."
As Moen spoke, he slowly pulled an identical sword from his coat's inner pocket—an Undetectable Extension Charmspace.
The same rubies, the same silver light, even the tiny scratches on the blade were perfectly replicated.
[Alchemy Creation: High-Quality Imitation · Sword of Gryffindor]
[Material]: Goblin Silver + Alchemy Mimicry.
[Characteristics]: Apart from being unable to absorb venom and destroy a Horcrux, other physical properties are identical to the real sword.
"This is..." Snape was shocked.
"My masterpiece."
Moen placed the fake sword on the table, and it let out a hum identical to the real one.
"Put this in the display case, or send it to Bellatrix. That noseless fellow Voldemort doesn't understand Alchemy; he won't be able to tell."
Moen handed the real sword to Snape.
"As for the real one..."
A sharp glint flashed in Moen's eyes:
"...send it out tonight. Harry and the others are in Dean Forest; I've already sent the location to your Two-Way Mirror."
"Remember, make it mysterious. Use your Patronus to lead the way."
Snape took the real sword, looking at the heavy weapon in his hand, then at the near-perfect fake on the desk.
"You even prepared this?" Snape's voice was hoarse. "Just how far ahead are you calculating?"
"Calculating to the point..."
Moen walked to the window and watched the heavy snow falling outside.
"...where even if Voldemort takes this fake sword to strike Harry, he'll only find it's an expensive piece of scrap metal."
"Go, Severus."
Moen waved his hand:
"After the delivery, remember to come back. I still have a budget proposal for the 'Hogwarts Defense WardsUpgrade' that needs your signature."
Snape gave him a deep look, hid the real sword in his robes, transformed into a cloud of black smoke, and flew out the window.
Moen stood alone in the Headmaster's office.
He looked at Dumbledore's portrait on the wall.
The old man in the painting was pretending to sleep.
"Stop pretending, Albus." Moen tapped the frame. "What's your assessment of my 'Imitation Plan'?"
Dumbledore opened one eye and gave a playful wink. "Very business-minded, Moen. And... excellent craftsmanship."
"Thank you for the compliment."
Moen picked up the fake sword and gave it a casual swing.
"Next, we just wait for Harry to get the real sword."
"And then..."
Moen looked in the direction of Gringotts.
"...it's that mountain of gold."
Chapter 127: Trial Under the Ice Lake, Quantified Envy
The Forest of Dean.
The winter forest was silent and deadly.
A thick layer of snow covered the ground, and ancient oaks pierced the night sky like black skeletons.
Harry Potter sat alone outside the tent on watch.
Hermione was sleeping inside.
Long-term depression and physical suffering had led Rondown his original path after all.
Since Ron's departure, their life on the run had become even more silent and oppressive.
Although the supplies provided by Moen kept them from starving, the spiritual emptiness was something beef stewed in red wine couldn't fill.
Suddenly, a silver light pierced through the pitch-black woods.
A silver-white doe stepped lightly across the snow, walking silently toward Harry.
It was beautiful and elegant, radiating a soft glow from its entire body.
"Who are you?" Harry asked softly, his white breath instantly freezing in the air.
The doe did not answer; it turned and ran deep into the forest.
Harry did not hesitate, grabbing his wand and chasing after it. Intuition told him this wasn't Dark Arts.
He followed the doe to a small frozen pond. The doe vanished.
Harry leaned closer to the pond, and by the light of his wand, he saw something shimmering beneath the ice.
It was a sword.
The hilt was inlaid with brilliant rubies, shining brightly at the bottom of the black lake.
The Sword of Gryffindor.
"Moen didn't lie to me..." Harry's heart pounded wildly, "Snape really sent it over."
But he quickly discovered a problem.
The ice was easy to break, but the sword was locked inside a transparent alchemical cube, sunken at the bottom of the water.
[Only those who overcome their inner demons may wield the sword.]
"Damn it," Harry cursed.
This was definitely Moen's handiwork. That control freak even set a password for a delivery.
Harry tried using Accio, but it was ineffective.
It seemed he had to go into the water physically.
He stripped off his clothes, broke the ice, and jumped into the bone-chilling water.
Just as he dove down and his fingers touched the alchemical cube—
Buzz—
The cube suddenly contracted, turning into a black rope that looked like liquid, instantly wrapping around Harry's neck!
That was no ordinary rope; it was [Alchemy Mimicry: Dementor's Touch].
A strong sense of suffocation and despair instantly overwhelmed Harry.
He struggled in the water, but the more he struggled, the tighter it became.
He was going to drown.
Right at this life-or-death moment—
Splash!
Another person jumped into the water.
A pair of strong hands grabbed Harry and dragged him out of the water.
The two of them rolled onto the snow, gasping for air.
Harry coughed up the water in his lungs and looked up to see a soaking wet, red-faced, red-haired figure.
"Ron?!"
"It's me." Ron held the Deluminator in his hand, still shivering, "You idiot! You almost drowned yourself!"
"You're back..." Harry felt his eyes grow hot.
"Yeah." Ron scratched his head awkwardly, "The... the Deluminator brought me back. I heard your voice."
"Alright, enough with the reunion."
A line of golden writing suddenly floated above the unopened alchemical cube, which Ron had also fished out.
[Second tester detected: Ron Weasley.]
[Trial Start: The Weight of Envy.]
The cube suddenly opened, releasing a cloud of black smoke.
The smoke twisted in the air, turning into two clear figures—Harry and Hermione.
But it wasn't the real them.
It was a more perfect, more dazzling version of them.
"Harry" looked at Ron with a contemptuous gaze: "What use are you, Ron? No money, no talent, even your wand is second-hand. Even this meal was given to you by Moen's charity."
"Hermione" put her arm around "Harry's" arm, saying coldly—
"No..." Ron's face was pale, and his hand holding the wandwas shaking.
This was his deepest inner fear.
It was also Ron's greatest inner demon, precisely calculated by Moen through the [Mind Palace].
"Destroy it, Ron!" Harry shouted, "That's not real! That's a trap set by Moen!"
"But..." Ron looked at the perfect "Harry," the red light in his eyes growing stronger.
"Do it!"
Just as Ron was on the verge of collapsing, the alchemical device suddenly emitted a cold recording belonging to Moen White:
"Mr. Weasley, if you can't even defeat a phantom, then you truly are not worthy of my dividends."
These words were like a bucket of cold water poured over Ron's head.
Moen's mockery.
The mockery of that high-and-mighty capitalist.
"To hell with your dividends! To hell with Moen!"
Ron roared, his envy instantly transforming into anger at being manipulated.
He raised his wand—Moen hadn't helped him fix it before, but he had bought a new one later—and slashed fiercely at the black mist.
"Reducto!"
Boom!
The black mist exploded, and the illusion vanished.
The alchemical cube shattered, revealing the true Sword of Gryffindor inside.
Ron panted heavily and picked up the sword.
He looked at Harry, the gloom in his eyes having dissipated.
"Sorry, Harry," Ron whispered, "I'm such a bastard."
"You're a hero." Harry walked over and hugged him, "You saved me. You got the sword."
The two stood in the snow, looking at the sword in their hands.
Though the process was agonizing, they had to admit that Moen's "test" had precisely excised the tumor in their team like a scalpel... Meanwhile, near the village of Ottery St Catchpole.
There was a strangely shaped house here, like a giant black cylinder.
The Lovegood house.
Late at night, Xenophilius Lovegood was pacing anxiously in the house. His magazine, The Quibbler, had recently been under close surveillance by Death Eaters because of its support for Harry.
Knock, knock, knock.
The sound of knocking echoed.
Xenophilius jumped in fright and looked out through the peephole.
There were no Death Eaters outside; instead, a black sedan was parked there.
The door opened.
Moen White stood at the door, the wind and snow kept at bay. Behind him followed Alfred and two Werewolfbodyguards.
"Mr. White?" Xenophilius opened his mouth in surprise, "How did you..."
"I'm here to pick someone up."
Moen walked straight into the house, glancing around the place filled with strange inventions.
"Where is Luna?"
"She's upstairs sleeping..." Xenophilius rubbed his hands nervously, "Mr. White, the Ministry of Magic is watching very closely lately, for you to come here like this..."
"It's precisely because they're watching closely that I've come."
Moen looked at this somewhat eccentric father and said in a serious tone:
"Mr. Lovegood, according to my intelligence network, the Death Eaters plan to 'visit' you tomorrow. They want to take Luna away to threaten you into stopping the publication of articles supporting Harry and to force you to reveal Potter's whereabouts."
Xenophilius's face went white instantly: "Take... take Luna away? No! Absolutely not!"
Chapter 128: The Tale of the Three Brothers, Heavily Armed Dobby
"So, I am taking her with me."
Moen's voice was unquestionable: "I will place her in the most secure core area of the White Manor. There is the Fidelius Charm, the Werewolf Guard, and the alchemical defenses I personally installed."
"She is my 'partner'. I won't let anyone touch her."
Just then, light footsteps came from the stairs.
Luna walked down in her pajamas, rubbing her eyes.
"Moen?" She saw Moen, not surprised, but instead revealed a happy smile, "Are you here to take me to see the Moon Frogs?"
"No, I am taking you on a vacation."
Moen walked over, took off his coat, and draped it over Luna.
"Go pack your things, Luna. Bring all your brushes and books. We are going to a place without Wrackspurts."
"Okay." Luna nodded obediently and went upstairs.
Moen turned around and looked at Xenophilius.
"As for you, Mr. Lovegood."
Moen pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket:
"You can continue to stay at home. When the Death Eaters come tomorrow, if Harry Potter really comes to ask you about the 'Deathly Hallows'..."
"...You just tell the Death Eaters that Potter is here."
"What?!" Xenophilius was stunned, "You want me to betray Potter?"
"This is part of the script."
A glint flashed in Moen's eyes:
"Harry needs to know the story of the Deathly Hallows, and he also needs to experience a 'betrayal' to grow. Besides..."
"...If the Death Eaters come and find that Luna is not there, they will lose their leverage over you. At that time, you just need to act panicked and play along."
"Once the battle begins, my Werewolf squad will pick you up from the back door."
"This is a deal, sir." Moen patted Xenophilius on the shoulder, "You trade information for safety, and I am responsible for the safety net."
Ten minutes later.
Moen held Luna's hand and walked out of that strange house.
The car door opened, and the warm light illuminated Luna's face.
"Where are we going?" Luna asked.
"To my castle." Moen sat in the car, "There is endless pudding there."
"What about Harry?"
"Harry has his own path to walk."
Moen looked at the pitch-black night outside the window, the direction Harry was about to arrive from.
"He needs to collect the three Deathly Hallows. And I..."
Moen held Luna's hand, feeling that real warmth.
"...I already have my 'Moon'."
"Next stop."
Moen's gaze turned to the distant Gringotts.
"Bellatrix's vault. Hufflepuff's Cup."
"It's time to go to the bank for a 'withdrawal'."
Near Ottery St. Catchpole.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood in front of the house that looked like a giant black cylinder.
Although Moen had warned them about the ambush here, Harry had to find out the meaning of that symbol, which was the clue Dumbledore left in the book for Hermione.
"Ready?" Harry gripped his wand.
"Remember what Moen said." Hermione reminded, "If something goes wrong, press that emergency button immediately."
They knocked on the door.
Xenophilius Lovegood opened the door.
He looked crazier than ever, his hair disheveled, barefoot, and his eyes wandering.
"You..." Xenophilius looked at Harry, a trace of rehearsed "panic" flashing in his eyes, "Why are you here?"
"We want to ask about that symbol, sir." Harry pointed to the necklace on Xenophilius's neck.
"Come in... come in quickly."
There was no sign of Luna in the house.
Xenophilius poured them tea, disgusting Gurdyroot tea, and then began to tell that ancient legend — "The Tale of the Three Brothers".
Elder Wand, Resurrection Stone, Invisibility Cloak.
Deathly Hallows.
"Conquering death..." Harry muttered to himself.
He finally understood.
Voldemort was looking for the Elder Wand, while he was looking for Horcruxes.
Just as the story ended.
Xenophilius suddenly stood up and walked to the window.
"What's wrong, sir?" Hermione asked vigilantly, "Where is Luna? Is she upstairs?"
"Luna... she is... she is on vacation." Xenophilius's voice was trembling, he remembered Moen's script, "But you... you can't leave."
"I'm sorry, Potter."
Xenophilius pulled open the curtains violently and shouted outside:
"He is here! Potter is here! Come quickly!"
Boom! Boom!
The Death Eaters, including Travers, who were already lying in ambush outside, immediately launched an attack.
Several spells pierced the walls, and the circular tower began to crumble.
"Traitor!" Ron roared.
"Run! Apparition!" Hermione grabbed Harry.
"No! Anti-Apparition charms have been cast here!" Harryshouted.
Seeing that the Death Eaters were about to rush in.
If it followed the original story, they would be captured and then taken to Malfoy Manor.
But this time, it was different.
Pop!
A crisp cracking sound rang out in the center of the living room.
It wasn't a Death Eater.
It was a small, big-eared figure.
Dobby.
But the little elf's outfit stunned all three of them.
Dobby was not wearing that dirty tea towel.
He was wearing a custom-made, shimmering [Mithril Tactical Vest], a mini pair of wind goggles on his head, and even a few alchemical smoke bombs hanging from his waist.
"Mr. Harry Potter!" Dobby squeaked, his tone full of professional pride, "Mr. White sent Dobby to pick you up! This is the 'White Express' service!"
"Dobby?!" Harry was overjoyed.
"Get down!" Dobby shouted.
At this moment, a green light shot through the floor.
Dobby did not dodge.
He puffed out his small chest.
Clang!
The green light hit the Mithril vest on his body and was actually deflected by the alchemical amulet!
"This is the work uniform issued by the boss! Very sturdy!" Dobby patted his chest proudly.
Then, he took an alchemical ball from his waist and threw it hard on the ground.
Bang—!!!
Thick, peppery black smoke instantly filled the entire room.
The Death Eaters who rushed in were choked into violent coughing, tears streaming down their faces, unable to see anything.
"Grab Dobby's hand!"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione grabbed that rough little hand in the smoke.
"Where are we going?" Ron asked.
"To Shell Cottage!" Dobby said, "This is the optimal route planned by the boss! No need to go to that terrible Malfoy Manor!"
The elf's magic can penetrate Anti-Apparition charms.
Pop!
Four figures disappeared instantly.
A few seconds later.
The ruined Lovegood house was left with only a group of furious Death Eaters.
"Where are they?!" Travers roared.
Xenophilius crawled out from under the table and patted the dust off his body.
He was not afraid, because he knew his mission was complete.
Moen White had promised that as long as this play was finished, Luna would be safe.
Cornwall, the beach outside Shell Cottage.
The sea breeze whistled.
Four people appeared out of thin air and fell onto the soft beach.
There were no flying knives from Bellatrix.
Dobby stood there unharmed, took off his goggles, revealing two large, tennis-ball-like eyes.
"We have arrived, gentlemen, ladies." Dobby bowed, "The trip is over. Please remember to give Dobby a five-star review, so the boss will give Dobby a bonus, and Dobbycan buy many new socks."
Harry climbed up from the beach, looking at the intact Dobby in front of him, and then at the brightly lit cottage of Bill and Fleur in the distance.
A huge sense of relief after surviving a disaster welled up in his heart.
He remembered that Dobby used to be easily injured and even tried to punish himself.
But Dobby now... had been armed by Moen into a special forces soldier.
"Thank you, Dobby." Harry squatted down and hugged the little elf tightly, "And thank Moen for me."
"Dobby is very happy to save Harry Potter!" Dobby's ears were trembling with excitement.
Just then, Bill ran out of the house.
"Harry! How did you get here?"
"It's a long story." Harry stood up and patted the sand off his body, "We just went through a... narrow escape."
Behind them, Dobby's figure disappeared again.
"Dobby still has to go back to report to the boss! Goodbye, Harry Potter!"
Looking at the place where Dobby disappeared, Hermionesaid softly:
"Although I don't like Moen's style... I have to admit that the vest he gave Dobby saved its life."
Harry nodded.
If it were before, perhaps someone would have been injured, or even sacrificed.
But because of Moen's intervention, although the process was full of the smell of money, everyone survived.
"Let's go." Harry looked towards Shell Cottage.
Chapter 129: The Greed of Goblins, the Dragon Beneath
This was the new home of Bill and Fleur after their marriage, located by the sea in Cornwall.
Waves crashed against the rocks, emitting rumbles of sound.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione had already relocated here, as Dean Forest was no longer safe.
In a dim room of the cottage sat a Goblin who looked to have a very bad temper.
Griphook.
He had been captured by Death Eaters while on the run and later rescued by Dobby.
"You want me to help you break into Gringotts?" Griphook's black eyes narrowed into slits, his sharp fingers tapping on the tabletop. "That is suicide. No one has ever succeeded."
"We need that cup," Harry said sincerely. "It is to defeat Voldemort."
"I am not interested in the wars of Wizards," Griphooksneered. "Whether it is the Dark Lord or Dumbledore, you all just want to take things from Goblins."
"If... if you help us, we can pay you," Hermione said tentatively. "Gold?"
"I do not lack gold." Griphook looked at the Sword of Gryffindor at Harry's waist, a flash of greed in his eyes. "I want that sword. It was stolen from us Goblins by Godric Gryffindor! It is a masterpiece that belongs to Ragnuk the First!"
Harry and Ron exchanged a look. That sword was the key to destroying the Horcrux; they could not give it to him.
Just as the negotiation reached a stalemate.
Knock, knock.
The door was knocked upon.
Bill Weasley pushed the door open and came in, his expression somewhat strange. "Harry, there is a... guest. He says he is here to discuss a 'labor dispatch contract'."
Before Harry could react, Griphook jumped up, his face turning deathly pale.
"It is him... that devil..."
Moen White walked in.
He was wearing a windproof deep blue coat, carrying that iconic Black Ironwood Cane in his hand.
The sea breeze tousled his black hair, but could not blow away the suffocating sense of oppression emanating from him.
"It seems our negotiation has hit a bottleneck?"
Moen smiled and walked straight over to sit opposite Griphook, completely ignoring the Goblin's hostile and fearful gaze.
"White!" Griphook gritted his teeth. "A traitor to Gringotts! It was you who sold our security blueprints to the Ministry of Magic!"
"Correction, I am Gringotts' largest depositor and security system upgrade consultant."
Moen pulled a document from his coat; it was Gringotts' latest financial statement.
"Besides, as far as I know, ever since Voldemort took control of the Ministry of Magic, life at Gringotts has not been easy. Death Eaters often rob vaults in the name of 'requisition,' and you Goblins dare not speak out."
"So what?" Griphook roared. "That is our dignity!"
"Dignity is worthless, Griphook."
Moen pointed his Black Ironwood Cane at the Sword of Gryffindor at Harry's waist:
"You want that sword? Fine. Harry can promise it to you."
"What?" Harry exclaimed. "Moen, we still need it—"
"Let me finish." Moen interrupted Harry, his gaze fixed intently on Griphook. "Harry can promise to give you the sword 'after we are done with it.' As for when we are done with it..."
A cunning curve appeared at the corner of Moen's mouth:
"...that depends on when Voldemort dies. Perhaps tomorrow, perhaps a hundred years from now. This is an option contract."
Griphook angrily wanted to slap the table, but Moen's Black Ironwood Cane pressed down on his hand first.
[Half-Giant Strength].
The Goblin's hand bones let out an unbearable cracking sound.
"Listen, you greedy little thing."
Moen leaned close to Griphook, his voice low and dangerous:
"If you refuse to cooperate, Harry Potter might die. If he dies, Voldemort will rule the world forever."
"And Voldemort..."
Moen pointed to the gloomy sky outside the window:
"...he is not as reasonable as I am. He will kill all the Goblins and turn Gringotts into his private vault. When that happens, forget about this sword, you won't even be able to keep a single copper Knut."
"And I am offering you another path."
Moen produced another document—GringottsRestructuring and Goblin Rights Protection Agreement".
"As long as you help Harry get the cup and create enough chaos..."
"...I can use the excuse of'security failure and loss of credibility' to unite all major depositors to pressure Gringotts and forcibly take over the management of the bank."
"When that time comes, I will hire you, Griphook, as the Chief Operating Officer of Gringotts."
"You can take back that sword, and you can have a status ten times higher than you do now."
"Do you want to die at the hands of the Death Eaters, or do you want to be a wealthy manager in my new order?"
Griphook looked at the agreement, then at the sword in Harry's hand, and finally at Moen's black eyes that seemed able to pierce through the human heart.
He was a Goblin; he was greedy, but he was even more shrewd.
"How do I trust you?" Griphook asked.
"You have no choice." Moen stood up. "This is the only bet."
A long while passed.
Griphook reached out his hand with the long nails and grabbed the agreement.
"Deal." Griphook said hoarsely. "But I have one more condition."
"Speak."
"That dragon." A flash of cruelty crossed Griphook's eyes. "It is the oldest guardian of Gringotts. It is blind and has suffered endless torture. I want you to release it. Let it smash that damn hall to pieces!"
Moen laughed.
He laughed very happily.
"What a coincidence." Moen snapped his fingers. "That is exactly what I was thinking."
"That... I am talking about the Ukrainian Ironbelly dragon..."
The negotiation ended.
Moen took Harry to the cliff by the sea.
"When are you planning to make your move?" Moen asked.
"The sooner, the better." Harry looked at the raging sea. "We don't want to wait any longer."
"Very good."
Moen pulled a scroll from his pocket and handed it to Harry.
"What is this?"
"Gringotts Underground Vault Structural Map (Top Secret Edition)."
Moen pointed to the red lines on the map:
"These are the 'backdoors' I left behind when I was a security consultant. Although you cannot go in directly, it marks all the trap locations: the Thief's Downfall, the Gemino Curse, and the Flagrante Curse."
"Remember, Harry."
Moen looked into Harry's eyes, his expression serious:
"This operation is not just about the cup."
"I want you to make a scene. The bigger, the better."
"It would be best if you could blow the roof off Gringottsand let that dragon fly over Diagon Alley breathing fire."
"Why?" Harry asked, confused. "It will be very hard for us to escape if we do that."
"Because only that level of chaos will allow me to take over that mess the next morning in the posture of a'savior'."
Moen patted Harry on the shoulder, his eyes flashing with the cold, ruthless light peculiar to a capitalist:
"I have already heavily shorted Gringotts stock on the black market."
"The sound of the explosions that night will, to me, be the most beautiful music of gold coins falling into a money bag."
Harry looked at Moen and suddenly felt a chill.
He was thinking about how to save lives, how to kill Voldemort.
But Moen...
"You really are a madman, Moen." Harry said in a low voice.
"Thank you for the compliment."
Moen straightened his windbreaker, which had been tousled by the sea breeze.
"Good luck, Mr. Potter. Don't die down there."
"Because if you die, I will have to go and fight Voldemortfor the kill myself. That is too tiring."
Moen turned and left, disappearing into the sea mist.
Harry held the map, looking into the distance.
"Gringotts..."
He knew this would be the most dangerous challenge he had ever faced.
But what he did not know was that behind him, a huge net was already prepared to catch the falling bank.
Moen recited silently in his heart, "Next up, the bank heist."
"And that... collectible."
Chapter 130: The Collapsing Thief's Downfall, SaviorRiding a Dragon
May 1st, deep beneath Gringotts.
The air was filled with the smell of scorched metal and stale dust.
The speeding cart took wild turns on the maze-like tracks.
Harry Potter, disguised as Bellatrix, gripped the edge tightly, clutching the "internal structure diagram" Moen had given him.
"The Thief's Downfall is ahead!" Harry shouted, "It's marked on Moen's map! That's the magic that forcibly removes disguises!"
"We can't brake!" Ron, disguised as Dragomir, screamed in terror.
Splash!
The cart passed through a massive waterfall descending from above.
Icy water washed over their bodies.
All disguises failed instantly.
Hermione Granger turned back into herself, Ron Weasley's long beard disappeared, and Harry Potter was no longer Bellatrix.
"Intruders!" The Goblins responsible for driving the cart yelled in panic.
The cart flipped.
They fell heavily onto the stone slabs in front of the vault door.
Griphook was the only one who remained calm.
He stared greedily at the sword at Harry's waist.
"This is the Lestrange vault." Griphook pointed to the massive door in front of them, which had no keyhole, only a guardian monster.
A massive, scarred, blind Ukrainian Ironbelly dragon.
It was chained to the ground, trembling with fear whenever it heard clanking sounds—a conditioned reflex from abuse.
"Use the Clankers!" Griphook shouted.
Hermione Granger shook the Clankers in her hand.
The dragon let out a whimper of fear, backed away, and cleared the path.
Harry Potter rushed to the door, followed the instructions on Moen's diagram, avoided the runes that triggered alarms, and had Griphook press his palm to open the gate.
...
Inside the vault.
It was piled high with gold coins, goblets, armor, and treasures.
But it had also been subjected to a terrifying Gemino Curse and Flagrante Curse.
Harry Potter just touched a goblet, and it instantly split into ten, and it was as hot as a red-hot iron.
"Ah!" Harry Potter pulled his hand back.
"Don't move!" Hermione Granger screamed, "We'll be buried by gold!"
"The cup! Hufflepuff's Cup!" Harry Potter pointed to a shelf high up.
That small cup was sitting right there.
"Is this what you're looking for?" Griphook looked at the cup, his eyes rolling, "I can help you get it. But I want the Sword of Gryffindor now!"
"We'll give it to you when we get out!" Harry Pottershouted.
"No! Now!" Griphook threatened, "Otherwise I'll scream and let the Death Eater outside in!"
Harry Potter gritted his teeth.
He unbuckled the Sword of Gryffindor and handed it to Griphook.
"Here! Take it!"
Griphook snatched the sword, his eyes shining with ecstasy.
It was a masterpiece of the Goblins! It was the legacy of Ragnuk the First! He had finally retrieved...
Wait.
Just as Griphook gripped the hilt.
If he were an Alchemist, or possessed the Gate of Truthlike Moen, he might have noticed the extremely slight deviation in the sword's "weight".
But he was a Goblin, too greedy, too confident.
He only saw the brilliance of the rubies, not the Alchemymimicry runes hidden deep within the blade.
"It's mine!" Griphook laughed.
He didn't help Harry Potter get the cup.
He threw the Clankers in his hand at the dragon, then turned and ran, shouting as he ran:
"Thieves! There are thieves in the vault!"
"You liar!" Ron Weasley roared.
The copies in the vault were multiplying, and the scalding metal surged like a tsunami.
Harry Potter desperately used his wand to flick the cup down, the three of them yelped as they were burned, pushed toward the door by the gold.
...
Outside the Gringotts hall, on the roof of Diagon Alley.
Moen White was sitting in a comfortable lounge chair, holding a pocket watch.
Alfred stood behind him, observing the entrance of Gringotts with binoculars.
"Time's up." Moen White looked at the pocket watch.
"Young Master, there is a tremor from underground." Alfredreported, "The alarm has sounded."
"Very good."
Moen White stood up and straightened his trench coat.
"That greedy Goblin should have run off with the'sword' by now."
A mocking smile curled at the corner of Moen White's mouth:
"He thinks he snatched a priceless treasure. But he doesn't know that I added a [Timed Disintegration] Alchemycircuit to that [High-Imitation Sword of Gryffindor]."
"About... half an hour later? When he runs to a safe place and prepares to admire his spoils, that sword will turn into a pile of worthless mercury in his hands."
"This is a small lesson for a traitor."
Just then.
The ground beneath their feet shook violently.
The sturdy marble floor of Gringotts began to crack.
Boom—!!!
A deafening, earth-shattering roar.
The floor of the Gringotts hall exploded.
A massive, grayish-white dragon, covered in broken chains, rushed out from underground!
It was blind, but it could still feel the air of freedom.
It roared, spewing fire, flapping its wings, overturning counters, and smashing chandeliers.
And on the dragon's back, three disheveled, battered young Wizards were riding.
Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger.
"My God..." The Wizards on the street screamed and fled, "Gringotts has been bombed! There's a dragon!"
The Ironbelly dragon smashed through the proud dome of Gringotts, charging into the sky with a sky full of gravel and glass shards.
Harry Potter gripped the dragon scales tightly, looking back at the ruins below.
He had done it.
Although the process was tragic, he had obtained the cup.
"Moen..." Harry Potter muttered in the wind, "This commotion... is big enough, right?"
...
In front of the ruins.
When the dragon flew away, the Death Eater and Ministry of Magic officials arrived late.
But one person was earlier than them.
Moen White, with his heavily armed Werewolf Guard, strode into the smoke-filled hall.
The Goblins were wailing, and gold coins and documents were scattered everywhere. The bank's reputation had completely collapsed along with that hole.
"Quiet!"
Moen White's cane struck heavily against a broken piece of marble.
magic Amplification allowed his voice to drown out all the noise.
"I am Moen White. Gringotts' largest creditor."
Moen White scanned the panicked Goblin executives:
"Look at the mess you've made. Robbed by three underage Wizards? Had your roof blown off by your own guard dog? Is this the 'absolute safety' you promised?"
"You have breached the contract."
Moen White took out a thick [Asset Mortgage Agreement].
"According to Article 73 of the 'Emergency Takeover Act'. Given that Gringotts management is no longer capable of maintaining the bank's normal operations..."
"...I announce that, effective immediately, White Investment Company will fully take over Gringotts' security."
"If you object..."
Moen White pointed to the group of Werewolves behind him, holding Alchemy firearms with fierce eyes:
"...You can talk to my Security Director, Lupin."
The Goblins looked at each other.
They had lost the dragon, lost the sword (the one Griphooktook), and now they were losing the bank.
But in the face of absolute force and the threat of bankruptcy, they had no choice.
"We... accept." An old Goblin lowered his head dejectedly.
"Very good."
Moen White turned and looked at the huge hole smashed by the dragon.
"Alfred."
"Yes, Young Master."
"That is my dragon." Moen White pointed to the shrinking black dot in the sky, "Although it has flown away now, I have already left a backdoor in its collar."
"It will get tired of flying. When it lands..."
A hint of greed flashed in Moen White's eyes:
"...Send a transport team to bring it home. My manor happens to be missing a mascot to guard the house."
"Also..."
Moen White looked in the direction Harry Potter had disappeared.
"...The cup is in hand. There are only two Horcrux left: Nagini, Harry."
"The moment of the final battle has arrived."
Moen White took out the Two-Way Mirror:
"Notify Headmaster Snape. Tell him..."
"...Savior will return to Hogwarts soon."
"Tell him to prepare that 'final story'. And... tell him not to die."
"After all, he is my employee."