The unusual prize draw quickly caught the attention of passing wizards. One by one, they slowed, stopped, and gathered around the small stage outside Shadow Golem House, staring at the expensive prizes glittering in the winter sunlight. The shadier figures from Knockturn Alley slipped into the crowd as well, like sharks scenting blood in the water, their greedy eyes fixed on the display.
"A new shop?" a middle-aged wizard in grey robes asked his companion, looking up at the sign in confusion. "I've never seen it before."
"It used to be a plant shop, remember?" his friend replied. "Though the building certainly didn't look like this before."
"Ah, yes, I remember now." The middle-aged wizard nodded, his gaze drifting back to the prizes. "The last owner was killed by Death Eaters under You-Know-Who. I didn't expect the place to reopen. Shadow Golem House… what a strange name."
"They started renovating last month," his friend said quietly. "They're awfully close to Knockturn Alley. Aren't they afraid of being robbed? Look at those fellows over there. They're practically drooling."
"Never mind them, I'm tempted myself," the middle-aged wizard admitted. "My son has mentioned wanting a Nimbus Two Thousand more than once."
"Mine too, but a Nimbus Two Thousand costs five thousand Galleons. That's an astronomical price for families like ours, and we simply can't afford it." His friend glanced toward the dark wizards mingling with the crowd. "Do you think those people will try something?"
"Forget them. I just saw Delphia go inside."
"Delphia? The Auror from the Ministry?"
"Yes, the grey-haired one. The Greengrass family is here too. If they dared open this shop in this location, they clearly aren't afraid of the dark wizards in Knockturn Alley. We can just stand here and enjoy the show."
The wizards watching from the street exchanged information in low voices, but none of them could stop looking at the prize table. If this had not been Diagon Alley, and if there had not been Aurors standing inside the shop, the crowd might already have fallen into chaos. Greed was written plainly on too many faces.
Thompson arrived with a smug expression, looking as though life at the Ministry had been treating him quite well lately. Judging by the company he kept, he had even managed to make friends with high-ranking Aurors.
"Roger, Merry Christmas!" Thompson pulled him toward the shop window and nodded toward Gringotts across the street. "Those goblins have terrifying instincts. We only exchanged one million Galleons before they shut the exchange window permanently. Completely heartless!"
"One million?" Roger was genuinely surprised. That was already far better than he had expected. He had originally thought the goblins would notice the loophole after a few hundred thousand.
"Yes. Those misers are searching everywhere for whoever exploited the problem, but Mrs. Eckmore at the Floo Network Office helped us cover the trail. They definitely won't find anyone." Thompson's grin widened with obvious satisfaction.
"I also exchanged some through the black market, bringing the total to three million," he continued. "Black-market dealers all over the world are so generous, kind, and friendly when they are desperate to get rid of Muggle currency. I hope they have a very happy Christmas."
Roger looked at him with new appreciation. He had not expected Thompson to be this efficient, much less for him to quietly exchange three million Galleons.
"The black-market exchange rate between Galleons and pounds has already soared to one to five hundred," Thompson said. "We'll split it according to the old ratio. I've already handed your share to Mrs. Jessica."
"Thompson, thank you," Roger said. "But you had better be careful. If I were one of those black-market dealers, I would be thinking about eating you alive right now."
"Who says they aren't?" Thompson shuddered, though his grin did not fully disappear. "That's why I came to Diagon Alley with Dexter. He's the Minister's favourite Auror, and his future is bright."
He was trying to sound casual, but there was fear beneath it. If word got out, those dark wizards would absolutely tear him apart.
At that moment, Thompson noticed a young girl waving at Roger from nearby. He gave Roger a helpful push in her direction and escaped before the conversation could turn any more dangerous.
"Roger, I received your Christmas present!" Daphne ran over happily, pulling her younger sister Astoria along with her. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, and her eyes were bright.
"So, did you like it?" Roger asked.
"I loved it, but my sister nearly stole it from me." Daphne gave Astoria a helpless glance, then revealed her sweet dimples as she proudly took out the exquisite pocket watch to show them both.
Before Roger could say anything more, Alexander Smaug entered the shop with Elena beside him. He had a handsome red beard and clear blue eyes, though the hair on top of his head had thinned to a worrying layer. Roger felt that one good gust from Diagon Alley might finish the job completely.
"Merry Christmas," Alexander said, looking around the bright shop with clear approval. "Simple, cheerful, and practical. A fine opening."
"Elena, why don't you look around first?" he added, turning his gaze toward Roger. The change in his eyes made it clear he had not come merely to congratulate them.
"Daphne, we'll talk later," Roger said. "Sorry."
He exchanged a glance with Alexander, then led him upstairs. Bubble appeared with tea almost as soon as they sat down, placing the cups neatly on the table before retreating to the side.
"Mr. Alexander, how is the Soviet Ministry of Magic?" Roger asked. "This is spiced black tea. It suits the season."
"A complete mess," Alexander said heavily. "The Ministry has lost the government that supported it. Just like in Grindelwald's time, many people are now facing purges."
He lifted the cup but did not drink. For a moment, his expression carried the exhaustion of a man who had seen old nightmares return in new clothing.
"I still don't know how you predicted all this," Alexander said. "Perhaps, as Elena told me, you really do have the gift of prophecy."
"I only made a careful guess," Roger said calmly.
"You may not know this, but over the past few decades, many wizards there were tried by the Ministry and imprisoned in Goblinak." Alexander sighed. "It is a place every bit as terrifying as Azkaban."
Roger said nothing. He knew what a prison like that could do to a wizard, and he did not need Alexander to explain the rest.
"Now many of those people have been released," Alexander continued. "They have fled into the magical world of Eastern Europe, causing destruction wherever they go."
His expression became complicated, bitterness and excitement tangled together. "The Soviet Ministry of Magic is bound to face a major upheaval. And I, a former fugitive, can now return openly and legitimately."
"The Muggle government's control over our Ministry of Magic has come to an end," Alexander said, slamming his fist onto the table. "The noble wizards of Moscow will regain their glory."
Then his voice lowered, and anger sharpened through it.
"But the Magical Congress of the United States has its eyes on us. They are preparing to take this opportunity to plunder my former home." Alexander's jaw tightened. "We are not the Muggle government of Moscow. I will not allow those Ministry scoundrels to sell off the property of noble wizards."
"Yes, plunder," Roger said with a nod. "When a giant collapses, greedy flies and wild dogs always come running toward the stench."
The moment the words left his mouth, Roger paused. He realised, somewhat awkwardly, that he had accidentally included himself in that description as well.
"Uncle Alexander, let's go to Eastern Europe together," Roger said, rising to his feet. His tone carried a solemn edge, almost like sacred redemption. "This is not merely a business deal. This is about placing magic back into the hands of civilisation. For the glory of noble wizards."
"For the glory of noble wizards," Alexander replied.
He extended his broad, calloused hand and shook Roger's firmly. The agreement was made without further ceremony, and in some ways, that made it feel more binding.
"Bubble, is the money ready?" Roger called.
The house-elf came forward carrying a suitcase reinforced with an Undetectable Extension Charm. He opened it carefully, and the brilliant gold inside shone so brightly that it almost hurt to look at.
"Young master, there are one hundred thousand Galleons in total, along with fifty thousand dollars," Bubble reported.
"Dollars?" Alexander asked curiously. "What are those Muggle notes for?"
"Just in case," Roger said with a faint smile. He offered no further explanation, then added, "Bubble can come with us, can't he?"
"Of course," Alexander said. "A house-elf's magic will be extremely useful."
Jessica hurried upstairs as soon as she received the news. Concern was written plainly across her face, and she looked at Roger as though she wanted to forbid him from leaving but already knew she could not.
"Roger, are you really going to the Eastern European magical world?" she asked. "It isn't as safe as Britain's."
In stable times, dark creatures such as vampires and werewolves at least kept to the shadows. Now that Eastern Europe was in chaos, those creatures were almost certainly running wild and causing destruction wherever order had weakened.
"Mum, don't worry. Uncle Alexander will be with me," Roger said gently. "We'll only be in Moscow. Think of it as a short trip."
"Then you must be careful," Jessica said at last.
She nodded reluctantly and turned to Bubble, instructing the house-elf again and again to take good care of Roger. Bubble listened solemnly, his ears trembling with the seriousness of the task.
"Mrs. Jessica, I will entrust Elena to you," Alexander said.
Then he strode into the fireplace, scattered Floo Powder into the flames, and called clearly, "Finista."
Green fire roared up around him, and he vanished. Roger waved goodbye to his mother and Elena, took a handful of Floo Powder, and repeated the destination. The flames surged, seized him, and carried him thousands of miles away toward the outskirts of Moscow.
He had barely finished speaking when he felt a powerful pull from behind. It was as though an invisible hand had grabbed him by the back of the robes and yanked him violently away. His vision blurred, and fireplaces of every size flashed past him, some decorated for Christmas, others broken, dirty, and narrow.
This was the Floo Network, the magical system that allowed wizards to travel quickly from fireplace to fireplace with Floo Powder. It was astonishingly fast, but the experience itself was deeply unpleasant.
Roger felt as if he had been shoved through a cramped, dark tunnel. Wind screamed in his ears, his heartbeat pounded too loudly, and his stomach twisted until he wondered whether breakfast intended to escape. The dizzying flashes of light and shadow only made it worse.
Thump.
The fireplace in a snow-covered cabin burst to life, and Alexander and Roger arrived one after the other. Compared with Alexander, who used Floo Powder often and stepped out steadily, Roger looked like a seasick passenger who had been dumped directly into the hearth.
"Roger, get up," Alexander said, laughing heartily. The freezing wind outside seemed to invigorate him.
"This is Finista, the hunting lodge I built myself," he said, pulling Roger to his feet and pushing open the wooden door. "I haven't been back for many years, but it is still the same."
"Finista?" Roger shook his dizzy head and waved his wand to clean the soot from his robes.
.....
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