The slums on the outskirts of Cairo.
Two Egyptian Ministry of Magic trackers, similar to Aurors, moved through the cluttered streets, where shanties built by the poor had narrowed the once five or six-meter-wide roads to less than a meter.
"This is the third incident of Muggles being robbed by Wizards in the past few days!"
"I really don't know which idiot would do such a thing!"
"Ignoring the international statute of wizarding secrecy so blatantly, that scoundrel will probably receive the Pharaoh's curse, won't he?"
"Indeed! Because of him, we have to work overtime to hunt him down; he deserves to die in the pain of the curse!"
"Wait a moment,"
One of the trackers stopped.
"There are traces of magic use here!"
"Let's go!"
The two chased the traces, winding through turns, until they arrived under a bridge.
There, an old man, barely clothed and looking extremely disheveled, was gnawing on a large plate of Koshary like a hungry dog.
The old man's face was covered in grime, making his features indiscernible, but he was missing his left eye, and his right hand was severed at the wrist.
"It's him!"
The arrival of the trackers caught the old man's attention; seeing that they were Egyptian Ministry of Magic trackers, the old man was greatly alarmed, pulled out his wand, and cast an Avada.
"Watch out! This is a Dark Wizard!"
Only Dark Wizards would start with an Avada.
By the time the trackers recovered, the old man had already fled from the other end of the bridge, his plate of Koshary spilled all over the ground, chickpeas and rice mixed with sauce everywhere.
The old man was Ollivander Avery; at this moment, he discovered he couldn't Apparate—this must be because the trackers had sealed off the area.
Damn it, compared to British Aurors, do Egyptian trackers actually have the authority to block Apparition at any time? Don't they worry about injuring innocent Wizards with Anti-Apparition charms?
Old Avery fled in a panic, with the trackers hot on his heels.
The old man was, after all, old and frail, and unfamiliar with the environment here, so he was eventually cornered in a dead end.
Old Avery gripped his wand tightly in his left hand, looking like an old cat driven to a dead end by a hunter.
His left hand was not his dominant hand; without a sneak attack, he wouldn't be able to handle these two trackers.
He felt completely finished.
Suddenly, two red lights burst out from behind the trackers, accompanied by "hissing" sounds, and the two trackers rolled their eyes and fainted to the ground.
A slender figure emerged, backlit, like an angel.
Old Avery suddenly relaxed, his legs gave way, and he sat down on the ground.
"Takyiana?"
Old Avery's voice was hoarse and weak as he asked uncertainly.
"It's me."
When Takyiana helped Old Avery up from the ground, Old Avery thought he was dreaming.
"I knew it, I knew it…"
Tears streamed down his single eye.
"I knew you wouldn't abandon me!"
Takyiana showed no expression and said:
"Follow me."
"Alright, alright!"
Old Avery was exceptionally moved; he was in such a state, yet Takyiana still found him. What was this?
This was true love!
"Pop!"
The two appeared in front of a manor.
Takyiana silently led Old Avery inside.
Old Avery was somewhat surprised; Takyiana actually owned such a large manor?
But thinking about it, it was normal; she could earn tens of thousands of Galleons a month, so living in such a large manor was quite reasonable.
They arrived at the study.
Pushing open the door, Old Avery saw a familiar figure standing by the window.
"Count Dantes?"
Old Avery was surprised.
He looked back at Takyiana.
So, Takyiana belonged to the Count?
"My apologies, Ollivander,"
The Count spoke.
"I was delayed making some trinkets; otherwise, I would have picked you up sooner."
Old Avery shook his head.
"No, no, no, I am very grateful that you could save me from danger."
"Don't thank me, Ollivander, it's what I should do."
The Count's voice was very cold, which made Old Avery uncertain of his meaning.
The Count clapped his hands three times, and a large group of people walked in from outside the room.
Old Avery tilted his head in confusion, but when he clearly saw the people who had entered, his eyes immediately turned red.
Among those who entered were Bar Girl A, Bar Girl B, the doorman from the Pharaoh's Left Hand Auction House, the dealer from the High Roller's Lounge, a unlucky fellow who had pawned his Time-Turner because he lost money, and Norris, who had gambled his entire fortune against him.
He was a person of normal intelligence; if he couldn't see that he had been set up by now, he wouldn't have stood out among his many brothers to become the head of the Avery Family family.
"Why, why?"
Old Avery looked fiercely at the Count, hoping to get an answer from him.
However, the Count smiled and said:
"Aren't you interested in the little trinkets I've been making these past two days?"
As he spoke, he took two crystal bottles, one large and one small, from under the desk.
The small bottle contained an eyeball, revealing despair and fear;
The large bottle contained an old right hand, appearing helpless and regretful.
"Let me introduce you, these are my works,"
The Count said,
"This is the Eye of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, symbolizing the glory of Britain's Sacred Twenty-Eight, and this is the Hand of Abstinence, to warn people not to gamble."
Old Avery's mouth hung open, wanting to say something, but his wildly beating heart made his head dizzy, and he couldn't utter a single word.
He suddenly turned his head, staring fixedly at Takyiana, hoping she could tell him that this was all just a joke the Count was playing on him.
However, Takyiana sneered:
"You, marrying me? What a joke, what would I gain by marrying you? Your lack of brains, or your black stockings?"
Old Avery looked down; his stockings already had several large holes, revealing the hairy, wrinkled skin underneath.
He felt his heart was about to explode, and with all his strength, he asked the Count:
"Why are you doing this to me?"
The Count waved his hand, and Takyiana led the group of actors out of the study.
"Why?"
The Count sneered,
"Because you killed my mother!"
Old Avery froze.
I killed the Count's mother?
His brain worked at high speed, countless melodramatic scenarios flashing through his mind—
He had indeed done many absurd things in his youth, harming many young women, but it seemed no one had died because of it?
Wait a moment, if a girl got pregnant because of him and then died after giving birth to Count Dantes, wouldn't that mean the Count was actually his own son?
"Child? Are you my child?"
Old Avery's raving made the Count roll his eyes.
He Transfigured in front of Old Avery, taking on the appearance of little Dana.
"Now, do you know who I am?"
Old Avery only felt that Dana looked very familiar, but he couldn't recall who he was for a moment.
But gradually, panic appeared in his eyes—
Isn't this that famous Quidditch prodigy, Dana Emrys?
That's right, he was originally from the Avery Family family, and his mother was Anna Avery… He was the one who took the fall and was locked up in Azkaban back then.
Later, when he was released from prison, I even tried to kill him to silence him, but not only were the assassins I sent killed instead, I was tormented by the Crucio for an entire night!
"Wait a moment, wait a moment,"
Old Avery felt sweat pouring down and his mouth dry; the despair he felt now was even more intense than when he had lost everything, then his eye and right hand.
"I, I even lent your mother a hundred Galleons! I didn't even make her pay it back!"
Dana sneered and said:
"You colluded with Cornelius Fudge to do all this, which shows you have a very good relationship with him.
And I am a very considerate person; I think you two good friends should be together—don't worry, I won't take your life; I will even give you special treatment. Whatever treatment former Minister Cornelius Fudge is receiving now, you will receive the same treatment.
But before that—"
Dana's pupils turned slightly red.
"Cruciatus Curse!"
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