After packing up their things, the three of them walked forward along the spacious secret passage. An ancient lift creaked and groaned as it carried them deep underground, delivering them to a flagstone path that was already somewhat cracked.
The winding road wasn't a straight line. Although the trio walked at a good pace, it took them nearly an hour to reach Hogsmeade Village, which wasn't far from Hogwarts. If they had taken the main road above ground, the journey from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade would have only taken about half an hour.
There wasn't a soul in the public Floo Network shack. They climbed out of the shack's cellar, stepping up the dilapidated wooden stairs to arrive behind a wall of rotting barrels. The twins, familiar with the route, used a Levitation Charm to move them aside and open a narrow passage, and the three of them squeezed out cautiously.
"Let's go."
Fred pulled up his hood and spoke in a hushed voice.
The two of them were already about the same size as most adult wizards; 1.75 meters was not short. Lynn, however, was a bit lacking. Boys developed a bit slower, and Lynn, who would only turn twelve in a few months, was currently just 1.6 meters tall. However, combined with his rasping voice that sounded like an old man's, it wouldn't be easy to see through his disguise. Lynn had also put on a pair of gloves to cover his fingers.
The crooked sign of the Hog's Head Inn cast a long shadow under the dim light. The severed boar's head hung askew; the taste of the owner who ran this pub really wasn't much.
As soon as they pushed open the door, a dusty, stale smell assaulted their noses, accompanied by the scent of cheap alcohol and a complex stench of various disgusting body odors.
Fred grabbed a few silver Sickles from his pocket, rapped on the bar counter, and ordered three bottles of the cheapest Butterbeer. This was a 'tip' for the pub owner; anyone coming here to do business had to pay, regardless of whether they drank or not.
The filthy bottles dispelled any thought Lynn had of tasting them. The twins were the same as him; they didn't touch the bottles at all.
What caught Lynn's attention was that the pub owner had a pair of familiar piercing blue eyes. If he remembered correctly, the owner of the Hog's Head was Albus Dumbledore's younger brother, Aberforth Dumbledore. However, the relationship between the two brothers was very poor, especially after their sister Ariana died in an accident; the two brothers had completely stopped seeing each other.
Aberforth didn't have his brother's brilliant talent; he was bad-tempered, impulsive, and irritable—the stereotypical image of a Gryffindor.
"Hey, Dung."
Fred's husky voice spoke low. "I've got a batch of good stuff here."
"Shh!"
Mundungus, sitting in a corner of the pub drinking a glass of green liquor, quickly held up a finger. He lowered his voice and beckoned them over. "Don't say my damn name, someone's watching me. I don't want to get grabbed by them and sold to a brothel run by goblins."
"Looks like you owe quite a bit this time. You're lucky your legs weren't broken."
George chuckled. They knew exactly what kind of person this guy was.
"I don't owe money. Those idiots picked the cauldrons themselves. If they explode and scald someone to death, they can't blame me. Who told them not to use their eyes? Ptui!"
Mundungus cursed. He had always been in the business of reselling cauldrons of dubious origin. These things were consumables for potion masters; there was hardly such a thing as a cauldron being passed down as a family heirloom. Generally speaking, a cauldron would only last about two years without intense usage. Once potion ingredients seeped into the body of the pot, it was time for a replacement, otherwise it would contaminate future potions, even if the pot was used to brew only one type of potion.
He either scraped the inner walls thin or let them sit for a few years, and unscrupulous peddlers like him basically chose the first method. The chance of an explosion was pure luck; if one picked a cauldron with a particularly thin bottom, it might explode after just a few uses.
"Talk. What good stuff do you have?"
Mundungus rubbed his hands together, his shifty eyes sizing the three of them up.
"A batch of high-quality potions. Invigoration Draughts and Pepperup Potions. You know these things sell without issue."
"422 bottles, 6 Sickles a bottle. A fair price, right!"
"Pah!"
Mundungus's eyes lit up instantly, but the moment he opened his mouth, he drove the price down.
"Are you crazy or am I? Six Sickles a bottle? I might not even make a Sickle selling them. Plus, I have to take the risk with this stuff. Four Sickles a bottle, I'll take them all."
"What kind of bullshit are you spouting? Four Sickles? That doesn't even cover the cost. Do you think we're doing shady business like you?"
"Final price, 6 Sickles, not a Knut less. There's new stock every week. Take it or leave it. There are plenty of buyers anyway. What risk is there in flipping them? If it weren't for the fact you got us some good stuff before, do you think you'd be qualified to earn this money?"
The twins, who were highly talented at bargaining, shut Mundungus up in just a few moves. Even this old slicker who had rolled around the black market for years couldn't help but feel his scalp tingle. However, things were mostly as they said. Although these two widely-used potions were cheap, the demand was truly huge. Whether it was drudges working overtime or someone with a headache or fever, they could down a bottle and see immediate results.
"Enough, enough, I've really had enough of you two. Six Sickles it is then. For the sake of our happy cooperation in the past, I'll take a loss. But I need to inspect the goods."
"If the potion quality isn't up to scratch, don't dream of getting this price!"
"Fine, but what you drink counts towards the total."
"You're counting even that little bit of money? Ptui~ I've never seen such stingy guys like you."
Mundungus cursed. He really couldn't take advantage of them at all. But he stood to make a profit on this deal; at the very least, ten or so Galleons would enter his account. He'd be a real idiot to turn it away.
He stood up and walked to the depths of the pub, where there were partitioned booths specifically prepared for trading goods. As soon as the tattered wooden door closed, Mundungus couldn't wait to ask, "Where's the goods?"
Lynn reached out his hand from under his robes. From who-knows-where, he hauled out one crude wooden crate after another, packed to the brim with potions.
"They're actually fresh?" Mundungus picked up a bottle at random; the potion inside hadn't completely cooled yet.
"This is a partner we just found. Very capable."
"Looks like your workshop isn't small."
Seeing such a large batch of new goods, Mundungus gathered his wits a bit. Although they were ordinary potions, wizards skilled at brewing were actually hard to find. Brewing took considerable energy. Even simple foundational potions like these required focused attention; you couldn't just light the fire and leave it. The shorter the brewing time, the more energy it consumed.
Taking a bottle of each of the two potions, Mundungus took a small sip, then raised his eyebrows slightly.
"Top quality. Not bad, not bad."
He nodded, beaming with joy. He had originally estimated making less than a Sickle per bottle, but now he was confident he could make a full Sickle, and they would definitely sell easily.
"Here's the money—"
Mundungus fished out a filthy money bag and scooped out handfuls of coins. There weren't many Gold Galleons, but there were plenty of Silver Sickles and Bronze Knuts. The payment of over a hundred Galleons forced him to pull out a large pile of heavy silver and copper coins.
"Next time, exchange it for Galleons."
Lynn spoke in a deep voice. "I also need to order some materials. I'll be back at this time next week."
"Easy enough. Whatever you want, no problem. With me, Dung, on the job, you can rest ten thousand percent assured."
After counting the payment and telling Mundungus what materials to get next time, Lynn and the other two left the Hog's Head and blended into the night of Hogsmeade.
"How about I buy you a drink?"
Lynn suggested as they reached the entrance of The Three Broomsticks.
"No one refuses a Butterbeer, but I was afraid those ones at the Hog's Head would give me the runs."
Fred and George naturally didn't intend to refuse. Walking in the freezing cold tunnel, having a cup of piping hot Butterbeer to accompany them would be absolutely perfect.
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