CHAPTER 4

The bearded man accepted the gem with visible delight, patting his chest in assurance. "I won't deceive you two just because you're young," he declared with a grin. Clearly, to survive in the treacherous undercurrents of Athens' wizarding underworld, his eyes had to be sharp and discerning.

What kind of young wizard casually produced a gemstone when casting? And not just any gem—a variety he'd never even encountered before.

"Come on then, you two, follow me." The bearded wizard led the way, glancing back to introduce the setting. "This street is Sawskis Ross Street—Athens' own blend of your Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley."

He seemed to take great pride in this. "Black magic runs thick in Greece. You've heard of the man who brought it here, haven't you? The magical world calls him Despicable Haierbo! Ha! That's the one."

The bearded man, full of chatter, introduced himself as Uriah Candisletto. He also warned Moriarty against entering just any shop along the street without caution.

Moriarty acknowledged the advice with a nod. To be safe, he gripped the Slytherin Staff in his hand—a precaution, considering he had stored it away in the system space when boarding the plane.

As they continued, they passed a wooden storefront with windows obscured in black. Inside were rag dolls with grotesquely twisted mouths, smiling unsettlingly.

Next door, a sign inscribed with ancient runes caught Moriarty's attention. He murmured a translation, "Light a candle at the ocean floor, slit your throat with a silver blade, and you'll arrive at Ferdordo's General Goods."

Lilith arched an eyebrow. "What's that? A death curse? Sounds like some spell to summon the undead." Intrigued, she stepped forward, but upon seeing the store's blood-red floor and the baskets of bat spleens and whale eyeballs stacked behind the door, she reconsidered.

A low, hoarse whine echoed from a nearby darkened shop. "Owl, maybe?" Lilith guessed. Uriah shook his head solemnly. "Better you never learn what's kept in there." With a hint of pity in his eyes, he quickened his pace away from the shop.

The next few establishments appeared more conventional—robe vendors, sellers of enchanted binoculars, and various obscure statues. Lilith noticed unfamiliar silverware among the displays.

Moriarty's sharp eye quickly assessed the silverware as counterfeit, but the wares still attracted many unsuspecting foreign buyers.

"Athens welcomes outsiders," Uriah said proudly. "Foreigners arrive every day. Now, let me show you Semporsaran—it's the finest place for digging up information!"

He gestured toward a distant golden temple, lit dimly with hanging jack-o'-lanterns and surrounded by a crowd.

Lilith squinted at him. "How did you know we're here to gather intel?"

With a sly grin, Uriah glanced at Moriarty. "Why else would you two come here? Having me with you makes everything easier."

Moriarty smirked, pulling out another emerald and flashing it before Uriah's eyes. "Let's see what your guidance is worth," he said coolly, before slipping the gem back into his pocket. "Lead the way."

On their way to Semporsaran, Moriarty leaned toward Lilith. "Stick close to me—wherever we go."

Lilith beamed and clasped his arm, practically glowing like she was attending a pure-blood gala.

Semporsaran's entrance loomed ahead—an arched stone gate atop seven marble steps, where the crowd surged in chaotic waves.

"Move! Make way!" Uriah shoved through the throng and hollered, "What's the cost to get in today?"

A voice called back, "Thirty Galleons or something of equal value."

"Bloody stingy Semporsaran!" Uriah cursed, grumbling, "Prices are up again! Here, take this—mountain troll dung!"

Laughter erupted around him. "Boss Uriah strikes again!"

With a flourish, Uriah produced a compact box enchanted with a Shrinking Charm and tossed it through the doorway. Angry shouts echoed back from inside, but he was unfazed. He elbowed through the gathering and carved a path for Moriarty and Lilith. "Let's go!" he called cheerfully.

The local chatter, all in Greek, left Moriarty slightly puzzled, so he asked for clarification. Uriah explained that the "slinger" they referred to was like a membership token. The value changed daily.

"Sometimes it's cheap—a few Knuts will do. Other times, it's expensive. Gringotts is right across from Semporsaran, so if you're short on cash, that's where you go."

"But not to worry," Uriah added with a glint in his eye. "Boss Uriah still holds some weight on this street."

Moriarty and Lilith nodded, both amused by the absurdity of using troll dung as entrance fare.

Inside Semporsaran, a flood of patrons hailed Uriah. A man dressed like a waiter approached him with respect, and soon, curious eyes turned toward Moriarty and Lilith.

A frail voice pierced the din. "Oh dear… another batch of English dolls coming to Posalam? British blood tastes foul! Like petrol fumes!"

Moriarty and Lilith exchanged wary glances. Another vampire?

Scanning the room, the first sight that caught their attention was a gleaming silver bar counter. Two tuxedoed bartenders stood behind it, their heads drenched in what seemed like sewage, attempting to clean themselves with their wands.

An ancient stone tablet displayed drinks and potions with prices written in old runes. A line in smaller script read: For discreet exchanges, submit one hundred Galleons.

Moriarty mentally noted that detail and swept his gaze across the chaotic hall.

The interior couldn't have been more different than the counter's polished front. Hundreds of wooden tables and mismatched chairs were scattered across the stone floor, all occupied.

Moriarty spotted witches and wizards, Indian shamans, robed specters, skeletal mummies, and a surplus of portly, bald men—all of them sporting beards. Facial hair seemed the norm here.

The air reeked of sweat, leather, tobacco, decay, potions, alcohol, spices, and an unmistakable post-coital musk—an overwhelming mixture that nearly suffocated Moriarty and Lilith.

Lilith gagged and sneezed, instantly drawing unwanted attention. A swarm of men stared at her with predatory glints in their eyes, eyes raking over her figure with vile interest.

Terrified, she tightened her grip on Moriarty's arm. He could feel her nails digging through his robes.

Uriah watched the scene from the bar, elbows propped casually, clearly curious to see how Moriarty would respond.

"I'll have a Long Island Iced Tea—one pint of Euphoria mixed in," Moriarty said coolly, addressing the bartender. "And a lemonade—add one ounce of Tranquilizer."

He tapped the Slytherin Staff, and a stack of golden Galleons clinked into place on the counter. The bartender, still dripping, hurried to prepare the order.

Guests nearby, impressed by Moriarty's composure and precise phrasing, withdrew their earlier mockery and looked at him with newfound respect.

Uriah burst into laughter and clapped. "Well played! Spirits and potions—brilliant! I'll give it a shot too. Let me see… I'll have a Bloody Mary and a pint of Demulcent!"

"The Demulcent's not the best idea," the bartender warned, but Uriah waved him off.

Turning back to Moriarty, Uriah beamed, leading them to a corner table where they sat together.

Lilith finally relaxed, her wide eyes regaining their sparkle. She began examining the crowd and decor with fresh curiosity.

Moriarty leaned back, casually raising a topic, "There seems to be no shortage of vampires around here, wouldn't you say?"

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