"You attend to your own affairs. Leave the matter of Bibury Village to the Unspeakables," the Director decided, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"Just don't let it become another Kingsport," Aiden quipped dryly.
"Kingsport was a purely Muggle incident," the Director explained, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Beings without magic cannot actively connect to the Astral Plane, which makes our monitoring exceedingly difficult. Furthermore," he added, his expression turning grave, "I suspect the goblins were involved in that affair. They may have developed a technology that allows mundane creatures to breach the veil."
He paused for effect. "To that end, I have found you an assistant."
With a sharp clap of his hands, a figure robed in the same black and gold as the Unspeakables stepped into the room.
"Oliver?" Aiden's eyes widened in genuine surprise.
"What, surprised to see me?" Oliver asked, a rare smile gracing his features.
"You joined the Unspeakables? What about your studies at Hogwarts?"
"Such a narrow view," the Director chimed in from the side. "As if the Department of Mysteries couldn't provide a far superior education to a single young wizard. Besides," he gave Aiden a conspiratorial wink, "as an employment benefit, certain relevant parties will… temporarily forget about his association with us. A tempting offer, is it not?"
"No, thank you," Aiden refused decisively. Then, a thought struck him, and a slow, cunning grin spread across his face. "Wait a moment. You're assigning an Unspeakable as my assistant? Are you trying to get your hands in my pockets, Director?"
The Director's demeanor shifted, his formal air replaced by a playful grin. "Our two families share a long and storied history, Aiden. What's a little cooperation between old allies?"
"In that case," Aiden said, interlocking his fingers and leveling his striking heterochromatic eyes at the man, "we have terms to discuss."
"Ah, you greedy dragons," the Director sighed, though the smile never left his face. "A fifty-fifty split. The Department provides the manpower," he proposed.
"The distribution channels, the alchemical materials, and the storefronts are all mine, and they are already established. Eighty-twenty," Aiden countered, lounging back on the sofa like a king on his throne.
"Eighty-twenty? You might as well rob me!" the Director scoffed, knocking on the table. "Don't forget, young Master Prewett, you haven't fully consolidated your family's assets yet. I'll be generous. Forty-sixty."
"But I have a contract," Aiden stated coolly, hinting at his forces in Knockturn Alley. "If I find myself lacking goblin workers, I can simply have them replaced. My final offer is seventy-thirty."
"Deal," the Director agreed instantly.
Aiden blinked. He'd been had.
'Heh,' a familiar, silent chime echoed in his mind.
'Shut up,' Aiden thought back irritably.
After the official agreement between the Prewett family and the Department of Mysteries was signed, the Director was practically giddy.
"Alright, Oliver, quickly now! Time waits for no one, and our department hasn't seen an influx of funds this large in a very long time!" His voice was filled with the glee of a man who had just secured a major victory. "Come, you will lead the operational team. You can select your personnel from the Brain Room."
As he eagerly pulled Oliver from the room, he shot Aiden a final, provocative look that clearly said, 'The one you trained is truly excellent.'
Aiden's fist clenched. He deeply regretted not leaving a permanent mark on that sly fox's face.
Exiting the Department of Mysteries, Aiden found himself at the head of a formidable entourage. A full contingent of wizards in black and gold Unspeakable robes packed into the Ministry elevator, their severe presence causing anyone waiting on the floors above to hastily back away.
To complete the image, Aiden transmuted his own robes into a sweeping black trench coat. Under the perpetually gloomy London sky, the wind caught the hem, making it crackle with authority. He certainly looked the part: the young Lord Prewett, leading his enforcers on a mission.
Their destination: Prewett's Alchemical Wonders in Diagon Alley.
When the intimidating group descended upon the shop, the atmosphere shifted instantly. Even the most oblivious customers sensed the tension and fled, scattering like startled birds. A few opportunistic shoppers even made off with goods in the confusion, but Aiden had more pressing concerns.
"Seal the premises," he commanded.
The Unspeakables behind him drew their wands in unison. Wisps of silvery-white light streamed from the tips, weaving together to form a shimmering, semi-opaque sphere of energy that completely enveloped the shop.
"Two of you remain on guard," Aiden ordered, his voice as cold and clear as a mountain spring. "The rest of you, enter with Oliver and begin a full audit of the accounts. Arrest any goblin who resists. Execute any who attempt to send a message."
The team moved with chilling efficiency.
Aiden calmly unwrapped a piece of candy and popped it into his mouth. The foil wrapper fluttered from his fingers, but instead of hitting the ground, it twisted and expanded, the metallic sheen resolving into the plush velvet of a high-backed armchair. He sat down directly in front of the sealed shop, content to wait for the inevitable unwanted guests.
The two Unspeakables flanking him stood like statues, their eyes scanning the gathering crowd for threats. After a few minutes of silence, Aiden felt their gazes lingering on him. He turned his head.
"Is there a problem?"
The two female Unspeakables exchanged a glance, their professional facades finally cracking.
"Mr. Prewett, please…" one began hesitantly.
"…could we have your autograph?" the other finished, holding out a small notebook.
"Huh?" Aiden blinked, taken aback. "Of course."
He took the notebook, tore out two fresh pages, and signed his name with a flourish. The two Unspeakables beamed for a split second before their expressions reverted to stone-cold indifference, the precious autographs quickly hidden away.
A sudden tear in space signaled an arrival by Apparition. A portly, balding man appeared in the middle of Diagon Alley, accompanied by a delegation of furious-looking goblins. It was Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic. He spent the short walk to the shop profusely apologizing to the goblins beside him.
The surrounding wizards, sensing high drama, abandoned their shopping to watch the spectacle unfold.
"What is the meaning of this?" Fudge demanded, puffing out his chest and adopting his most official tone. "Who authorized you Unspeakables to take action in Diagon Alley without consulting the Minister's office?"
He waved his arms about dramatically. "Do you have any idea how much commerce you are disrupting for these fine merchants?"
The Unspeakables ignored him completely. Fudge, flustered, turned to the lead goblin. "My deepest apologies, Mr. Urs," he said with a low bow. "A terrible misunderstanding. I will have them dispersed at once and ensure your kinsmen are released unharmed."
"An old acquaintance," Aiden's voice cut through the Minister's groveling, drawing all eyes to him.
"Prewett," Urs the goblin snarled, his eyes burning with hatred. "What is the meaning of this? Are you trying to incite a war between our peoples?"
"Hmph," Aiden scoffed. "The initiative is no longer in your hands, Urs. Did you truly believe that with only one Prewett left, the goblin nation would go unchecked?"
He casually removed his top hat, revealing the two sharp, pearlescent dragon horns curling from his hairline. The eyes of the two female Unspeakables lit up with stars.
"Ah," Fudge sneered, turning his indignation on Aiden. "So it's just a half-breed, stirring up trouble." While weak and sycophantic towards outsiders, the Minister was always bold when it came to cracking down on his fellow wizards.
As Fudge began to puff himself up for another tirade, Aiden subtly unleashed his power. The irresistible influence of a Dreamwalker seeped into the Minister's mind. Fudge's eyes went vacant, his body twitched once, and then, to the astonishment of the gathered crowd, he began to tap dance.
[Chapter Complete]
***
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