Chapter 141: I Hope So
Corban Yaxley was in a panic.
He didn't understand.
How had he fallen to this point being universally hunted by the Ministry of Magic, unable to use any fireplaces, his Apparition traces detectable by specialized tracking teams, his house-elves monitored by the management department rendering them useless, all his assets frozen, even the family vault at Gringotts sealed and unusable…
It was only now that he could understand why his family had historically invested so much energy into the Wizengamot, fighting against the Ministry of Magic's influence.
In an era like this, the so-called glory of the "Sacred Twenty-Eight Pure-Blood Nobility" wasn't as useful as he had imagined.
Had everything he had built within the Ministry of Magic simply vanished overnight? Was the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which he had managed his entire life, now to become his grave?
"Damn it!"
He angrily adjusted the snake coiled around his neck, letting it bite his ear. He coldly watched the Auror secretly monitoring near one of his family's hidden safe houses, straightened his trench coat, pulled down his hat, and walked deeper into the street.
This snake was a precious gift from his master; it could nullify any means of detecting magic. Even face-to-face, Aurors would only think he was a passing Muggle.
But this solved nothing.
Corban could no longer seek help from his family's power, nor could he contact his master.
Yes, he had lost his arm, which bore the Dark Mark, making it impossible to find out where his master was!
He was like a stray dog, running aimlessly everywhere, trying to find a last way out.
It was difficult.
Because he knew he couldn't leave Britain. Although escaping here would free him from his current predicament of being universally wanted by the Ministry, it would also render all his investments in Voldemort meaningless.
Leaving when Voldemort was at his weakest would surely be seen as betrayal by the Dark Lord. His master needed more help, not his escape.
He had to contact his master as soon as possible!
To do so, he had to take a risk and seek out a powerful Seer.
This was a very ancient wizarding profession, and few wizards nowadays understood this ability. This witch, who lived far from wizarding communities, must have a way.
The only problem was that he currently had no way to satisfy her greedy appetite; he didn't have a single Galleon in his pocket.
Damn it, as a high-ranking Ministry official from a Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood family, when had he ever had to worry about money?!
....
Northwest England, Manchester.
On an unremarkable street in a Muggle residential area, he painfully clutched his bloody and throbbing right shoulder. An arm was missing from there, and the blood-staunching potions constantly stimulated his nerves, preventing him from maintaining good focus.
Enduring another wave of paralyzing electric sensations surging through his stump, he gasped, wiped away cold sweat, gritted his teeth, and walked into a barber shop.
Ding-a-ling-ling~~
As he entered, a strange wind chime hanging by the wall gave off a clear and eerie sound.
A middle-aged Haitian woman, plump and currently cutting a Muggle's hair, turned and glanced at him, gesturing to a few people chatting in the corner to approach him.
Corban dared not make any unnecessary moves. In the past, he might have arrogantly ignored these moderately skilled wizards, but now he had to try his best to appear more amiable.
"I need to see Madam Marie." He was led to a corner, away from the Muggles in the barber shop, somewhat irritated as he endured the wizards' questioning.
"Mama Marie doesn't want to see anyone lately!" A young man chewed Muggle chewing gum, eyeing him sideways, and made a rubbing gesture with his hands.
Damn it!
You dare to demand a bribe from me!
Corban looked coldly at the young man. "Do you know who I am?"
The young man sneered. "Even if you were Dumbledore, it's none of my business. I'm in charge here now. If you want to see Mama Marie, you have to get past me first!"
The address "Mama Marie" didn't mean this fellow was Madam Marie's son; it was a respectful title Haitian wizards used for Madam Marie, who was known as the "Mother of Rest."
Corban looked around at the other wizards, annoyed, and confirmed that the young man before him was indeed in charge here. He reluctantly fumbled through his clothes.
Damn it, every item he carried on this trip was a family treasure; losing any one of them would pain him.
He was silent for a while, finally fumbling inside his coat and pulling out a pocket watch, which he handed over.
The young man took the watch, eyeing it with distaste. Just as he was about to fiddle with its regulator, Corban said coldly, "That's a Time-Turner. If you don't want any accidents, I advise you not to touch it carelessly!"
He was actually bluffing the young man.
As the Yaxley family, skilled in finding answers in time, every time they used time magic with high intensity, they damaged an extremely precious Time-Turner. The one in front of him was already broken.
But broken didn't mean it was worthless. He himself had the ability to repair it; the Yaxley family possessed the craft of Time-Turners!
"A Time-Turner!!!" The middle-aged woman in the shop seemed to have been secretly observing the situation. She quickly walked over, snatched the pocket watch from the young man's hand. "Damn it, don't touch that terrifying thing!"
She clutched the watch, looking Corban up and down, then threw the watch back to him. "You seem like an important person. I'll take you."
"That was mine!" the young man cursed angrily.
The middle-aged woman didn't indulge him, slapping him on the back of the head. "Touching anything you can't control will only bring you disaster!"
Saying that, she beckoned Corban towards the back door of the barber shop.
Pushing aside some brightly colored curtains, they walked deeper along a slightly dim and damp alley, finally pushing open the back door of a small building. She asked Corban to wait while she went inside to announce him.
After a while, she returned. "You only have twenty minutes!"
Saying that, she gestured for Corban to enter.
The room was filled with piles of strange herbs, emanating a strong, pungent smell. The air faintly carried the scent of some burned incense, making Corban feel somewhat uncomfortable.
He finally saw Madam Marie, who was giving a lesson to a group of children.
This was a mixed-race Haitian middle-aged witch who appeared to have Caucasian ancestry, strikingly beautiful in a conventionally attractive way, adorned with numerous strange seashell accessories.
"Corban Yaxley..." Madam Marie picked up a cup of hot tea and drank it without offering him any, merely sniffing. Her gaze swept over his right shoulder beneath his trench coat. "Last time you asked for my help, and in return, you promised to investigate something for me. Do you have any results?"
Corban's expression froze.
Madam Marie had asked him to help find lost time, which he hadn't actually done yet.
"The most wonderful part of my life has vanished. I know it; someone must have stolen it," Madam Marie murmured, putting down her teacup. "So I spent so much effort helping you, only asking you, the so-called 'Time Explorer' Yaxley, to help look into the past, and you did nothing."
Her gaze turned cold. "How dare you show your face to me!"
"I couldn't," Corban said helplessly. "I was held up by some things. I had to resolve my own issues first, Madam Marie. Please, for the sake of our shared Yaxley family blood, help me one more time."
Madam Marie simply looked at him coldly. "You can leave."
Having Yaxley family blood flowing in her veins was nothing to boast about. She had never received any benefits from the Yaxley family because of it; instead, she had been ostracized by her own community since childhood.
Corban pulled out three Time-Turners from his pocket and gently placed them on the table in front of him, looking at Madam Marie. "You help me, and I'll immediately help you find the answer afterward!"
Saying that, he gently pushed the Time-Turners forward, looking at her. "If you don't help me, I might be killed, and you'll have to find the answer in time yourself."
"That's a good idea too, isn't it?" He looked at her with an unreadable expression. "You're also a powerful witch, and you also have Yaxley family blood flowing in you. Perhaps you have excellent abilities in time travel too?"
Madam Marie pursed her lips and said nothing.
She looked at these Time-Turners, which she had never been qualified to touch in her past life, and remained silent for a long time.
Finally, she still didn't touch the items, but walked towards a room beside them. "Follow me."
Corban finally breathed a sigh of relief, putting the Time-Turners back into his trench coat pocket. He painfully clutched the wound on his shoulder, gasping for a while, before pushing aside the curtain and entering.
The room's decor was peculiar.
The walls were covered in strange, vivid graffiti. On the floor was a long trough carved from stone, into which Madam Marie was throwing various colorful plant seeds.
She softly muttered something, seemingly a Haitian spell, her fingers gently caressing the seeds in the stone trough.
"Whoosh~"
She blew into the trough, and the seeds began to smoke, emitting an extremely strange, faintly nauseating smell.
"Come here."
She drew a circle on the ground with her wand, and the smoke from the trough began to drift into the circle, quickly gathering until it resembled a large crystal ball.
Corban stepped into it, coughing a few times involuntarily.
"What do you want to ask?" Madam Marie asked.
"I need to find someone!" Corban replied.
Madam Marie rapidly waved her wand. After a while, she said, "Alright, but the person seems to be moving away from you. You probably don't have much time."
Having said this, she grabbed a handful of yellow powder and scattered it into the smoke, then turned and pushed aside the curtain to leave.
Corban ignored her, just staring wide-eyed at the strange particles drifting in the smoke. Soon, he felt a stinging sensation in his eyes, and tears involuntarily welled up. Finally, he vaguely saw a robust figure within the smoke.
"Master?" he asked, somewhat confused.
"The Master does not wish to see you, Corban. You have disappointed him greatly." The voice of the blurry figure was full of mockery.
"Fenrir Greyback?" Corban was stunned. He hadn't expected to find this werewolf when seeking to commune with Voldemort.
"It is I," the werewolf Fenrir Greyback sneered, his voice filled with arrogance. "You are worthless now, Corban. The Master trusts me more now. If you have even a shred of loyalty left, do not bring your troubles to the Master. He needs time to recover, to await his final return!"
"I didn't intend to bring my troubles to him!" Corban gritted his teeth, looking at the werewolf Fenrir Greyback before him. His heart sank rapidly.
He was worthless now...
Was that true...?
No...
He was still useful; he could still play a part!
He clenched his remaining left fist, looking furiously at the smug figure. "Let me see the Master, just once! You cannot speak for him; I have "
However, before he could finish, a loud shout suddenly came from outside the door, "Expelliarmus!"
Bang!
A loud crash.
"Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived?" someone exclaimed.
Then another cried out, "Gilderoy Lockhart?"
"Damn it!" Fenrir Greyback's smugness instantly vanished. He frantically yelled at Corban, "Quickly break this strange connection, you damned fool! Are you really going to bring trouble to the Master?"
"I can fix this!" Corban turned back to look at the door with hateful eyes, then quickly turned back to plead, "Just one glimpse, even just one! I need guidance from the Master."
However, his only response was a sharp, furious roar the Master's voice. A terrifying black mist churned, forming a colossal skull. A venomous snake emerged from the skull's mouth, rapidly lunging at the smoke of the scrying.
Master?
Master!
Corban's eyes lit up, and he quickly cried out, "Master, give me a chance! I will solve everything, please don't abandon me!"
The venomous snake bit, and soon the smoke completely dissipated, leaving only Voldemort's voice slowly echoing in his ears "I hope so."
....
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