Chapter 84: Still Glorious, Not a Remnant!
The elderly wizard wrapped his arm around the barmaid's and responded with a jovial smile, "We're here to find some friends. A mutual acquaintance told me they'd be here. Do you happen to know who I'm talking about?"
At his words, the barmaid's smile faltered for a moment before she slipped out of his grasp, shaking her head with a forced grin. "I'm sorry, I don't know who you're talking about. This is just a place for regular folks to enjoy a drink."
Unbothered by her answer, the elderly wizard pulled a handful of gold Galleons from his robes. The coins' gleaming brilliance drew every eye in the dimly lit underground tavern.
Auston Greengrass noticed the barmaid's gaze linger on the gold. Her wary expression softened, her eyes tinged with a dreamy glint. The elderly wizard said nothing more, simply smiling as he slid the Galleons down the barmaid's neckline.
The cold touch of the coins made her shiver, and clarity flickered briefly in her eyes. But then, as though realizing something, she gritted her teeth and said, "I'm sorry, but I'm not that kind of person!"
The elderly wizard remained unperturbed, chuckling lightly. He drew another stack of Galleons from his robes and, with the same casual motion, slipped them into her hands.
Auston could hear the breathing of a nearby wizard grow heavier. The barmaid's composure wavered further. With a flush creeping up her face, she cast a flirtatious glance at the elderly wizard and murmured, "Tonight, I'm yours. Whatever you want."
The elderly wizard simply shook his head, still smiling, and for the third time produced a glittering pile of Galleons. He placed them gently into her trembling hands.
Taking a deep breath, the barmaid's gaze darted to a private room at the far end of the tavern. She arched a brow ever so slightly, her meaning clear.
The elderly wizard's satisfied smile broadened as he gestured for Auston to follow him. Together, they made their way past the barmaid toward the indicated room. Clutching her newfound wealth, the barmaid darted to the tavern's entrance and disappeared into the night.
But before the elderly wizard and Auston could take more than a few steps, several wizards blocked their path, wands at the ready.
A calm voice emerged from behind the group. "Gentlemen, this is my establishment. Everyone who comes here is a guest, and I don't want any disturbances in my bar."
One of the wizards parted to reveal a man sitting at the bar, casually sipping a drink. He wore a bowler hat tilted low over his face, but his posture radiated authority.
At the same time, nearly half the wizards in the tavern stood, their expressions ranging from wary to greedy. Their wands were drawn, directed at Auston and the elderly wizard.
Noticing the tension, the other members of the Pureblood Party stationed around the tavern raised their wands, forming a seamless web of defensive firepower. The atmosphere grew thick with the promise of battle.
The elderly wizard, unfazed, turned to Auston and asked in a testing tone, "Auston, in a situation like this, what do you think we should do?"
Auston took a deep breath. His hand tightened around his wand as he replied firmly, "If it comes to it, we fight. My wand is ready for action."
The elderly wizard chuckled softly. "Admirable courage, but it hasn't come to that yet."
Without hesitation, the elderly wizard drew his own wand, prompting the wizards blocking their way to raise theirs in response. Auston instinctively pointed his wand at the man in the bowler hat, his intent clear.
The elderly wizard, however, ignored the standoff and pointed his wand toward a wall of the tavern. With a deliberate motion, he traced a shape in the air. Slowly, as if scorched by fire, a symbol appeared on the wall: a triangle enclosing a circle, bisected by a vertical line—the mark of the Deathly Hallows.
A collective gasp echoed through the room.
The man in the bowler hat stood abruptly, his expression incredulous. "There were rumors not long ago from Gringotts in London—that the heir of that family appeared, opened their family vault, and then vanished without a trace."
He continued, "I thought it was just a rumor, but seeing this… was it true?"
The elderly wizard laughed heartily, twirling his wand in his hand. "Don't beat around the bush. What do you mean, 'that family's heir'? Afraid to say their name? My master isn't some fool like Voldemort, who created a ridiculous title like 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.'"
He raised his voice, letting it carry across the tavern. "Let me say it plainly: the heir of the Grindelwald family has returned to the wizarding world. The Pureblood Party has a new leader."
The room erupted in murmurs. Those familiar with Knockturn Alley knew the weight of his words. The Pureblood Party was poised for a resurgence.
The elderly wizard ignored the whispers, focusing his gaze on the man in the bowler hat. Step by deliberate step, he approached, his presence alone forcing the other wizards to retreat.
Standing before the man, the elderly wizard spoke each word with chilling clarity. "You run a bar in a place like this. You must be a wizard of some means. You know our rules."
"Submit or die."
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