The last week was spent in brutal training. My routine had become a loop: physical drills, endless duels with Vespera—which often ended in a hard KO or TKO for me—followed by spell practice. I had improved my Reducto, but I still felt it wasn't quite right. It didn't lack raw power; rather, it lacked a certain fine nuance, perhaps just a deeper experience with its very essence. My shield, Aegis Aurum, however, was improving rapidly thanks to Vespera's relentless pressure. Who would have thought that a defensive spell improves fastest under heavy fire? Theo could tell you all about it; I tormented him just as much until he finally learned a proper Protego.
During those seven days, I mastered two new spells. The first was Silencio. Vespera didn't consider it very useful—she claimed that for a capable duelist it's almost pointess, because the magical core naturally resists and anyone can shake it off in a few seconds. According to her, against an equal opponent, it buys you at most a few hundredths of a second. It was no surprise that I mastered it on the first try; it was far too simple.
The second spell was the one my aunt loved to use on me and the one I feared like hell: Hemo Tarsis. Nothing cools your ego faster than lying in the dust in your own vomit. It causes a violent pressure change, unbearable dizziness, and a total loss of balance. A person can overcome pain, but fighting against a lack of oxygen and a churning stomach is nearly impossible. It was a demanding spell requiring precision, like most of Vespera's magic.
Today, we decided to take the day off. My aunt couldn't resist a joking remark that she was tired of winning all the time, but we both knew I needed to recover so I wouldn't burn out. My losses had three clear causes. First, her decades of experience. Second, her arsenal of spells. And third... subconsciously, I was afraid of hurting her if I put all my power into the magic. If I overwhelmed her with a mass of water while lashing out with cutting whips of brutal impact force, I risked simply slicing her apart. It was lethal. But honestly... a few more losses like that and I'll probably lose my inhibitions.
Since I had the day off, I decided to use it usefully. I needed to go to Gringotts to open my own account and, at the same time, cash in that mixture of gems from the Room of Requirement. Vespera planned to visit Elizabeth; she had long-term visas for Czechoslovakia. My aunt asked if I wanted to join them—saying they could get the documents sorted for me fairly quickly—but for now, I decided on Diagon Alley.
It wasn't a problem, even though I went alone. It was fascinating to watch how the wards of magical manors actually work. The Floo was connected directly into the house. If a manor had protective barriers like those possessed by old pure-blood families, they simply regulated all visitors. It wasn't enough to know the address—if you didn't have a blood tie, a temporary permit, or permanent access, the spells simply refused to let you in. That was why Elizabeth had to come to the castle on foot and couldn't Apparate directly inside. And access? That could only be granted by the Lord, as it required a direct intervention into the magical core of the castle's wards. Thanks to this, I could safely take the Floo to Diagon Alley and return home just as securely.
Even though I was supposed to have the day off, I couldn't help myself. I did at least a quick warm-up—twenty minutes of shadowboxing and a solid stretch. After some brief grooming using a few proven spells, I finally headed to Diagon Alley.
I passed through the Leaky Cauldron quickly and inconspicuously. It was exactly that ideal window of time—adults had long been at work and it was still too early for students. As soon as I stepped onto the cobbled street, a crazy but extremely funny idea was born in my head. My steps immediately headed for the apothecary.
I knew from Vespera that Sirius Black was doing relatively well physically and mentally after Azkaban, but he was drowning in depression. Small wonder—he had lost all his friends. The closest ones were dead, and the distant ones had considered him a traitor for a whole decade, which gave every old friendship a bitter aftertaste. He seemed to drown himself in a bottle of firewhisky, alone in the darkness of Grimmauld Place, especially whenever Potter was away.
It was fascinating—Vespera loved to gossip with my other aunt, Narcissa Malfoy. This lady's circle of friends represented the best spy network in all of England. What could the likes of MI6 do against them? Amateurs. But in Sirius's case, there was one more possibility—maybe the traitor was simply Kreacher.
It occurred to me that if I took Sirius out to a bar somewhere, it would benefit both of us. I'd have some fun, he'd finally blow off some steam, and in the process, we might establish a better relationship. I was still interested in getting into my mother's family library one day. What interesting knowledge could I find there? Even though I had my hands full now, it was necessary to look to the future. The key to that was a good relationship with Black, who could also be a great friend. He was loyal, funny, and liked women—that's practically the ideal foundation for a solid friendship. Of course, for now, I was still just a kid, which significantly limited my options in bars, which is why I headed to the potion shop first.
As soon as I entered the shop, the smell of salt, old leather, and rotten eggs hit my nose. The shelves were overflowing with ingredients divided into herbal, animal, and magical sections. I didn't plan on brewing the potion, though, so I headed straight for the counter. The closer I got, the more clearly I heard the bubbling of several cauldrons at once.
I wasn't surprised when I found myself face-to-face with a familiar girl behind the counter. I would have bet my life she was a Hogwarts student working a part-time job here, though I couldn't recall her name or house. When I stopped at the counter, she looked up and her eyes sparkled. I had a strong feeling she knew who I was.
"Good day, how can I help you?" she asked professionally.
"Good day, an Aging Potion, please."
Her professional mask crumbled instantly. I could see and feel her amusement. She raised an eyebrow inquisitively and smiled slightly.
"Slytherin," she whispered amusedly under her breath.
"Pardon?"
"Nothing, nothing," she replied, immediately snapping her mask back on. "For how many years and for how long?"
"Ten years and ten hours?" I asked rather than answered, but then nodded firmly. "Yes, that will be enough. And I'll take two doses."
She nodded and set to work without a word. From the shelf behind her, she pulled a deep green potion and two large empty vials. From under the counter, she then produced a scale, a three-hundred-milliliter measuring cup, and a vial with a pale, almost transparent liquid. Right in front of me, she sketched a quick calculation on a piece of parchment and began mixing. I watched her with genuine interest; it was clear she had practice. Within five minutes, two finished doses stood before me, exactly to my specifications.
When she put the tools away, she looked at me with a mischievous grin.
"Anything else? An antidote, perhaps?" she suggested, though she immediately tried to put her professional mask back on.
"Great idea," I agreed with a smile. "Two of those as well, please."
She returned the smile and pulled two already prepared antidotes from behind her back. I couldn't help but ask: "Do people buy it so commonly that you have them ready?"
She shrugged. "Not that often. Mostly students... But these potions can be preserved in stasis without any problems, so they don't go bad. It's no issue to have them in stock."
I nodded and pulled a pouch from my pocket. At that moment, I sighed at how impractical Galleons were compared to credit cards.
"Twenty-four Galleons for the potions and seven for the antidotes. Thirty-one Galleons total, please."
I handed her the gold, tucked the vials into my pocket, and headed out with a thank you. I felt her amused gaze piercing me all the way to the door. I didn't care, though. Even if she probably thought I only wanted it for the alcohol... she was essentially right. I was definitely going to have a drink at the bar.
I continued toward Gringotts, quickly climbed the marble staircase, and stepped inside. The bank was nearly empty. Upon hearing my request, the goblin wasted no time and immediately led me straight to Ranrok.
As soon as I entered his office, he greeted me with a sharp smile. "Good day, Mr. Rosier. A private matter, or...?"
"Good day, Ranrok. Business," I returned his smile. "I need to open my own account, partly because of the business we discussed before. It's quite likely that within a few months, I'll receive a substantial sum from an auction."
"It is no problem to create a personal account for you," he replied, pulling a contract from his desk drawer. He placed it on the table between us. "I'll ask you to state your full name and sign here once you have read it. It is a standard Gringotts contract, except that I will be your manager from the very beginning," he finished with a smirk and gestured toward the parchment.
I carefully read every word so as not to get burned by some banality. To be safe, I went over the text twice, but found nothing suspicious. The bank committed to guarding the gold, but it included a condition about providing statements to the Ministry and taxing assets subject to it. Since there was nothing I didn't expect, I signed the document.
"I should soon have enough Galleons for investing or business. I estimate the amount between a hundred thousand and a million... Is it possible to invest or buy up real estate even though I'm not seventeen yet?"
"No, officially it is not possible," he shook his head, but I sensed a clear "but" in his voice. He paused for a moment and then continued: "We goblins despise your bureaucracy. Therefore, for our important clients, we offer premium services. If you wish, your investments will go through us, with us being the official owner. Unofficially, however, everything will belong to you, and on the day of your seventeenth birthday, we will simply transfer it to you. Since we consider you a high-potential client, we will only charge a small percentage of the profit for asset management."
"That sounds great," I stated with a smile. "When I have the capital, Ranrok, we'll start dealing with business in full."
Ranrok nodded with a sharp smile. "The key to your vault will be ready within seven days. Shall we send it to you, or will you pick it up at my office?"
"I'll come for it in person. I won't need the money until I have the capital for investments. It can wait until then."
"Agreed, Mr. Rosier. What exactly are you selling that you expect such a profit?" he asked curiously.
"The dagger of the Roman Emperor Nero. I'm selling it through Borgin," I replied with a smile, already mentally rubbing my hands over the gold I would gain.
A dangerous glint appeared in Ranrok's eyes. A wide, predatory smile spread across his face, and his long claws tapped amusedly on the massive oak desk. "A very interesting piece. I'd better not even ask where you got it..." He paused for a moment and then continued with an appreciative nod: "I will personally inform a few influential people who might be interested in such a dark artifact."
"Thank you, Ranrok. I appreciate it."
"The richer you become, Mr. Rosier, the richer I become as your manager. So do not thank me," he shook his head and added: "Is there anything else I can help you with today?"
I nodded and pulled a cauldron full of gems and jewelry from my pocket. "I would need cash for this. They're just precious metals and stones without magical value."
I didn't notice him make any gesture, but I felt a waft of old magic and in a second, another goblin was in the office. Without a word, he took the cauldron I had placed on the table and immediately left.
"You will have the best rate we can offer," Ranrok promised me. "I will personally see to it."
"Thank you," I replied gratefully. In my mind, however, I also thanked my ancestors who gave Ranrok's line a chance after his rebellion. I strongly doubted that other wizards had such a capable and helpful manager at their disposal. Although, when it comes to gold, one never knows.
That was all. I knew that goblins value brevity and directness, so without wasting time on closing pleasantries, I headed for the exit.
I stepped out in front of Gringotts with a feeling of a job well done; I had finished everything I needed. I stood on the marble steps for a moment when the sky suddenly darkened and thundered threateningly. Fortunately, it didn't start raining; it was just a rumbling sound, like an omen of something bad. I didn't believe in superstitions, though, so it didn't rattle me.
I was just descending the steps when an urgent meowing came from the dark alley leading to Knockturn Alley. Instinctively, I stopped and fixed my gaze on the shadows. After a moment, a tiny black kitten stepped out. He meowed directly at me, came closer, and started rubbing against my legs. I knelt down to him and started scratching behind his ears.
After a moment of contented purring, the kitten stepped back and headed back into the shadow. Just before it, however, he stopped and meowed again. It was an unusually clever gesture—a clear invitation to follow him.
"Do you need my help?" I asked him quietly. I was sure he wasn't an Animagus. I remembered Peter's presence quite differently—this cat radiated pure animal anxiety.
The cat reacted to my question with an even more pleading meow. Such a clear plea reflected in his eyes that I pulled up the hood of my robes without hesitation and followed him.
In Knockturn Alley it was still too early; the streets were yawning with emptiness. The few people we met along the way instinctively moved out of my path, completely ignoring the kitten in front of me. Thanks to the hood, they couldn't see my face; my height and figure shrouded in a dark cloak commanded enough respect in this gloomy environment.
I followed him through the main street and several side alleys until, with a quiet meow, he led me to a smaller building. At first glance, it looked like an ordinary warehouse, but it radiated magic. It was subtle and stable, similar to that of the shops nearby. The question remained why the small creature was pulling me here so persistently. I didn't want to risk entering an unknown building blindly. I didn't own an Invisibility Cloak and I hadn't mastered a Disillusionment Charm yet... but the kitten's urgent meowing finally convinced me. I stepped inside.
Immediately, a heavy waft of dust hit my nose. The magic I had felt from the outside turned out to be a space-extension charm. From the inside, the shop was unexpectedly spacious; right at the beginning they had a modest selection on display, but the building stretched deep into the dark back section.
Slowly and cautiously, I walked over to the counter. A shopkeeper with greasy hair was sleeping on it, from whom an acrid smell of sweat and filth emanated. I was just about to wake him up and ask what kind of place this was when I stopped. The cat walked right behind me, completely silent and cautious. Cats are exceptionally bright creatures and this one definitely didn't bring me here for no reason.
I began to inspect the shop more closely. Why did it have such a pathetic inventory? A few bags of soil, old dirty cauldrons, and ladles covered in a thick layer of dust. Such a business could never support itself, pay rent, let alone a shopkeeper. For the owner, it would be a pure loss of money.
I took a deep breath. I felt something more in the air than just dust and an unwashed man. I knew the smell of blood intimately—old, dried blood smells metallic. The reason I hadn't identified it immediately was that other, sickly-sweet and disgusting smell that made my stomach turn. Here in the front of the shop it was faint, I had to breathe in several times, but my hunch was clear. Corpses.
I didn't intend to underestimate anything. I immediately pulled out my yew wand, pointed it at the sleeping man, and uttered: "Imperio!"
A yellow bolt hit the shopkeeper. He immediately jerked and opened his eyes, but his consciousness had no chance against my will. I immediately crushed him mentally and took absolute control over him. The curse was active.
I mentally ordered him to answer all my questions exclusively in a whisper.
"What is in the back of this building?" I asked directly, in a tense whisper.
"Cages with animals, corpses, and a ring," he answered me with an enthusiastic whisper that, under the influence of my curse, seemed terrifyingly inappropriate.
"What animals? What is actually happening here?"
"Various kinds. Muggle dogs, cats, magical Crups, Gnomes, Kneazles, some crossbreeds and the like. We organize illegal matches here! There is huge interest in them... Usually Eric kidnaps animals from Muggles and John buys specialties at a good price. He has a talent for it," he continued in his enthusiastic confession.
My stomach turned not only at his words but also at the sight of his rotten teeth and the foul smell from his mouth. I pushed him mentally to continue, while holding my hand over my nose and mouth so as not to throw up.
"The animals don't get fed. When they are thrown into the ring, they fight for their lives. If they win, they eat their opponent! The bets on Gnomes are the best, especially when one devours the other. That drives the crowd into a frenzy... But we have anti-noise wards here, so it's fine."
"Aurors?" I hissed through my teeth.
"Only Hit-wizards come here. We have them bribed in this district," he whispered enthusiastically on. "Sometimes we throw a puppy or a kitten to some predator in front of the heated crowd... People like it."
At that moment, my blood boiled in my veins. I had to control myself with all my might not to kill him on the spot. I was sure that Cruciatus would work for me on the first try now, and with such intensity that it wouldn't be matched even by Voldemort's. But there was still time for pain.
"How many of you are here?" I asked in an icy voice.
"There are three of us including me," he answered readily.
"Do more people work here?"
He shook his head enthusiastically: "No, just the three of us."
I mentally forced him to stand up. So much for my relaxation today.
***
Author's note:
We're heading out for drinks with Sirius—are you guys as excited as I am?
Ranrok is proving to be exceptionally useful in all things financial. Since the Goblins have a rather "flexible" sense of morality and a shared hatred for bureaucracy (finally, someone!), our MC is going to benefit immensely from this partnership.
And to wrap things up, we have a bit of "Pest Control" at the end... What would you do in a situation like this? Would you call the Aurors? Or would you take matters into your own hands and settle it "the old-fashioned way"?
As for the corruption—unfortunately, illegal animal fighting is a grim reality in our world; a quick search for any city or country is usually enough to find such cases.
***
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The shadows are shifting, and the story goes much deeper... If you can't wait for the next update, Advanced Chapters are already waiting for you.
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Upcoming Chapters – Already Written(16):
64. Cruelty for Cruelty
65. Adopted by Fate
66. The Scent of Darkness
67. Socks, Sandals, and Sorcery
68. From Peaks to Plates
69. Ashes of Justice
70. The Scent of Despair
71. The Old Bird's Wisdom
72. Toujours Pur
73. The Emperor of Mankind
74. Two Romans Walk into a Bar…
75. Tactical Retreats
76. The Twelve-Year-Old Dark Lord
77. Poking the Snake
78. Of False Heroes and Tethered Minds
79. The Casual Intruder
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