The following day, Dumbledore finally received his answer. Wasting no time, he apparated instantly. He materialized inside a musty old house where disorder reigned and a persistent smell of dampness hung in the air.
A young wizard in his mid-twenties, fidgety and nervous, was already waiting for him. When he saw the legendary Albus Dumbledore materialize soundlessly in his vibrant robes, he sprang to his feet as if propelled by a spring.
— Hello, Professor! What an honor! It's been a long time! — Miki greeted him nervously.
— Hello, Miki. It has indeed, — Dumbledore surveyed the dilapidated, crumbling house and shook his head sadly. — It pains me to see you in such surroundings.
Miki gave a wry smile.
— Ha, I'm not exactly thrilled with this life myself, but you understand, Professor: for us Muggle-borns, there aren't many options after Hogwarts. It's either go back to the Muggles and forget about magic, or try to claw out a place for yourself here. Only a lucky few find truly decent work.
Dumbledore sighed heavily. His former student was absolutely right: the wizarding world was saturated with the influence of pure-blood families, and most of them refused to hire Muggle-born wizards.
— Professor, can I get you some tea? Or something stronger?
— Perhaps another time, my dear boy. Time is of the essence. What were you able to find out?
— Right, sorry, I completely forgot, — Miki gathered himself quickly. — Anyway, recently I found a great way to earn money—not entirely legal, but if you take simple jobs like smuggling contraband across the border or cleaning out warehouses, the pay is quite decent.
Dumbledore looked at him with a new, deep-seated concern.
— And what kind of place is this?
Miki hesitated, lowering his gaze and shaking his head.
— Sorry, I can't say, Professor. I gave my word.
Dumbledore nodded understandingly and did not insist. He knew such "grey" markets had always existed, but that was a matter for the Ministry, not him. His gaze lingered on Miki's left hand.
— Your hand... were you injured at your new job?
Miki froze. He looked at his tightly bandaged hand, and his body instantly tensed, trembling. Beads of cold sweat began to form on the wizard's forehead.
— No... it's... it's... — Miki stammered, his eyes darting to the corners of the decrepit room. He lowered his voice to a tense whisper: — Professor, do you believe the devil exists?
Dumbledore squinted in surprise.
— The devil? In our world, Miki, there are many... inexplicable entities.
— It was him! — Miki swallowed hard. — He appeared out of nowhere and grabbed my hand. I felt a horrific, unbearable pain, as if molten silver had been poured into my veins! I don't even remember what he wanted out of sheer terror, but I remember his last words. He said: "Behave yourself, kid, or I'll come for you and send you to Konosuba to serve the goddess Aqua!"
Dumbledore sank into thought but still couldn't fathom what any of it meant.
— May I see the hand? — he asked gently.
— What for? It's fine, — Miki replied. — It was just a small bruise; it's already gone.
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow in surprise.
— Then why the bandages?
Miki scratched the back of his head sheepishly, his feigned horror replaced by a guilty smile.
— Oh. Well, my new employer makes me clean up around his place, and when he saw my bandaged hand, he sent me home to rest. So, I decided to keep them on for a while.
Dumbledore smiled warmly and shook his head.
— Very well, Miki, back to business. Continue your story.
— About the devil?
— Haaa, — Dumbledore let out a long, weary sigh. — About my case, Miki.
— Oh, right. So, I was dusting the shelves when three wizards entered the shop. They were quite a sight. They brought in an order—a kidnapping of a child. — Dumbledore frowned. — They were grim types. It's not like everyone in Knockturn Alley is full of light and goodness, but these three reeked of Dark Magic from a mile away. I later asked the boss who they were. He said they were the remnants of an old gang that disappeared years ago and recently resurfaced. He even told me where they had hunkered down and strictly forbade me from going near them or blabbing about my Muggle-born heritage. And guess where they settled, Professor?
— In the very manor that recently burned down, — Dumbledore replied, his eyes fixed on him.
— Exactly! And yesterday, when I went to see the boss, I noticed the notice about the boy was gone. Anyway, I think they kidnapped him, then burned the house to cover their tracks and made a run for it.
Dumbledore's brow furrowed, his gaze turning grim, and his eyes behind his half-moon spectacles darkened.
— Do you happen to remember what the boy in the notice looked like? A name?
Miki nodded confidently.
— Of course! It was the most expensive contract in my memory. The boy looked about twelve or thirteen, smiling cheerfully in the photo. The name was Victor Moss. I kept trying to remember a pure-blood family with that surname, but I couldn't.
A heavy silence fell over the room.
— Tell me, Miki... what did the "devil" you encountered look like?
— I knew you'd be interested! — the young man brightened up immediately. — Well, he was very short. I would have never thought in my life that the devil was actually a dwarf. Clad entirely in black, with a terrifying red face—no mouth or eyes. — Miki froze, staring into space.
Dumbledore closed his eyes for a moment. His shoulders, usually squared, slumped slightly under an invisible weight. The puzzle pieces had fallen into place, and the picture was far more terrifying than he had imagined.
— Victor... what have you done... — he whispered so softly it was barely audible, his voice laced with deep sorrow.
But a second later, his eyes snapped open, and his gaze became steely, piercing.
— Miki, listen to me very carefully. You must not tell anyone about this.
— I know, Professor, — Miki snapped out of it, waving it off dismissively, oblivious to the change in atmosphere. — If I start telling people I saw the devil, even in the wizarding world, they'll take me for a madman.
— MIKI! — Dumbledore's voice struck like a thunderclap. — I am talking about the information regarding the boy!
— Oh, that... Yes, of course, — Miki blinked in confusion, but then broke into a smile again. — You know, you're the second person to forbid me from talking about him. Мой boss said the same thing yesterday...
— MIKI! NO ONE! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?! — Dumbledore erupted into a shout, something entirely uncharacteristic of him. The air in the room seemed to crackle with his power.
— I get it, I get it! Why are you shouting, Professor? — Miki frowned, offended.
Dumbledore took several deep breaths, forcing himself to regain his composure.
— Forgive me. I... I am simply very tired. Well, I must go. Take care of yourself, Miki, and please, stay out of trouble.
Dumbledore gave a short nod, his cloak snapped softly, and he vanished instantly. Miki stared suspiciously at the spot where the Headmaster had just stood.
— Maybe he's just a devil too? — he muttered under his breath. But as he recalled that horrific red face, a chill ran down his spine again. — No. That other one was definitely scarier.
While the Aurors were fruitlessly searching for clues among the ashes and Dumbledore was piecing together the bitter truth, Victor was enjoying his morning. He woke up calmly, filled Crookshanks' bowl to the brim, and prepared himself a hearty breakfast. Deciding to take a day off, he went down to the basement. Taking an old poker in his hands, he used Transfiguration to turn it into a pickaxe. Victor stood in the very center of the basement and began smashing the concrete with enthusiasm. With every strike, a ringing echo filled the room, and grey dust rose into the air. Completely unbothered by the noise, he cheerfully sang:
— Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho, it's off to work we go!..
When the work was finished and a hole of impressive depth gaped in the floor, Victor carelessly tossed the tool aside. Mid-air, the pickaxe reverted to the shape of a bent poker and landed on the stones with a clang.
— Well, that's half the job done, — he said with satisfaction.
At that moment, the air behind his back became dense and heavy. Victor didn't flinch. On the contrary, a bright smile bloomed on his face. He turned slowly, looking into the darkness of the doorway.
— Director! — he exclaimed joyfully. — Did you miss me already?