Chapter 137: Old Debts and New Deals

"Alright, the nuisance is quiet. Now, let's talk business… goblins."

Aiden remained seated in his conjured armchair, casually pushing up his monocle. A wave of raw magical power, laced with the intimidating pressure of his draconic heritage, washed over Diagon Alley. The very air seemed to shimmer and warp. The Aurors and the goblin delegation that Fudge had brought with him instinctively recoiled.

"What is this nonsense?" Urs, the lead goblin, snarled from the ground where he was still bound. "For generations, we goblins have faithfully managed the Prewett shops! Our hard work may not have earned us praise, but it has certainly earned us the right to be treated with dignity!"

"Really?" Aiden's beautiful heterochromatic eyes narrowed to slits. "As I recall, the goblins signed an agreement of indefinite servitude and compensation with the Prewett family as the defeated party in the last Goblin Rebellion. Or has your memory failed you?"

The oppressive aura intensified. The remaining goblins, already on their knees, groaned as they were forced flat against the cobblestones.

Seeing that defiance was futile, Urs switched tactics. He began to writhe on the ground, his voice taking on a pathetic, pleading tone as he cried out to the watching crowd.

"Wizards of Diagon Alley! See the cruelty of this man! The hateful Prewett uses us until we are no longer convenient, then casts us aside like refuse! His ambition is clear! Today, he drives us out. Tomorrow, he will come for your businesses!"

Aiden held his wand to his own throat, casting a Sonorus charm. His voice, clear and powerful, echoed through the alley.

"Let everyone here be a witness! You have seen how the goblins have managed my family's affairs. Do you believe I am casting them aside after they've served their purpose? Or do you believe that these greedy creatures, thinking me weak and alone, have been systematically embezzling my family's fortune for years?"

His words, combined with the notoriously poor reputation the goblins had cultivated for the Prewett name, swayed the crowd. No one spoke up in their defense.

"Damn you, Prewett! This is not over!" Urs spat, struggling to his feet against the crushing pressure.

He didn't get far. The two Unspeakables behind Aiden raised their wands. "Petrificus Totalus!" Twin jets of light shot out, freezing the entire goblin delegation in place.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, the senior Auror on the scene, could no longer stand by. He stepped forward, his deep voice calm but firm. "Mr. Prewett, we understand the need to audit your assets, but detaining these goblins without charge is… irregular."

As a former member of the Order of the Phoenix, Kingsley was doing his best to de-escalate the situation while giving Aiden a measure of professional respect.

"This is no longer my affair, Mr. Shacklebolt," Aiden replied, offering the Auror a slight, respectful bow.

One of the female Unspeakables stepped forward, her voice crisp and devoid of emotion. "The Department of Mysteries is now assuming jurisdiction over this matter. In accordance with Articles 12 and 13 of the Wartime Magical Law Provisions, all affairs pertaining to the goblin nation are hereby under the direct control of the Department of Mysteries."

Kingsley frowned. "Is there truly such a clause? I have been an Auror for many years and have never heard of it." He pulled out his official law book, preparing to challenge her on the spot.

To his astonishment, as he opened the book, dozens of previously invisible clauses materialized on the final pages, glowing with a faint, ancient light. Kingsley, a veteran of the Auror Office, immediately understood. The half-forgotten legends his predecessors spoke of were true—dormant wartime protocols, embedded deep within wizarding law, had been activated.

His gaze shifted from the glowing text to Aiden, then to the Minister still blissfully tap-dancing nearby. He sighed and shook his head.

Aiden caught his meaning and released the magical pressure suppressing the Aurors.

Kingsley walked over, grabbed the still-dancing Fudge by the arm, and addressed his subordinates. "We're leaving. This is above our pay grade."

With a series of sharp cracks, the Aurors Disapparated.

Inside the shop, shattered glass and overturned shelves told of a fierce, albeit one-sided, battle. Oliver stood with his wand held ready, pointing at a circle of defeated goblin warriors. Several who had resisted lay unconscious on the floor.

"Sir, the accounts have been checked," an Unspeakable reported, handing a thick stack of ledgers to Oliver. Every discrepancy was marked in crimson ink. The sums involved were staggering. Oliver took one look and wisely decided to pass the hot potato to his friend.

The shimmering barrier around the shop dissolved. Oliver stepped out.

"How bad is it?" Aiden asked.

Oliver didn't say a word. He simply clapped Aiden on the shoulder, handed him the stack of damning ledgers, and led his team away. The remaining Unspeakables moved in seamlessly, beginning to clean and restock the store, filling the vacancies left by the goblins.

The entire takeover, from start to finish, had taken less than an hour. Prewett's Alchemical Wonders was open for business once more.

Aiden stood in the alley, flipping through the account books. After a few moments, he had to take several deep breaths to calm himself.

"Looking at this is bad for one's heart," he muttered. His form dissolved into a swirl of silver-white butterflies that scattered into the air.

He rematerialized in the Director's office within the Department of Mysteries. The Director, who had been writing at his desk, put down his quill and looked up into Aiden's piercing gaze.

"You planned this from the start, didn't you?" Aiden accused, his voice low and dangerous.

"Whatever do you mean?" the Director replied, his expression one of perfect innocence as he steepled his fingers beneath his chin. "The Department of Mysteries always operates with mutual consent. We would never stoop to plotting."

"Right," Aiden deadpanned, rolling his eyes. "The ever-efficient Ministry of Magic, the war-hungry Wizengamot, and the 'mutually agreeable' Unspeakables. Truly, a bright and beautiful future for all."

"Oh, my dear Dragon, don't be so cross," the Director said, his tone shifting to one of shared grievance. "Our department is perpetually underfunded, you know. The stress of research, the constant interference from the political insects upstairs… it's all quite taxing."

Aiden was too tired to argue. The Director had cunningly changed the subject. "Forget it. My part is done. What about the cultists in Bibury? The Muggles with their brains 'gnawed by Trolls,' as you put it?"

"Most were apprehended. Their leader, however, escaped." The Director slid a file across the desk.

Aiden opened it. It contained a detailed dossier on one man.

Name: Aldred Cassius Locke

Age: 51

Profile: Graduated with a Master of Laws from Oxford University at 25. Elected as a Member of Parliament at 30. Politically exiled at 34 after attempting to champion the rights of lower-class residents in the Rust Belt, losing the support of his financial backers. Became a proponent of anti-intellectualism at 38. Last known activity: founded an organization called the 'Servant Council' eleven years ago with funding from an unknown source.

"His life story is certainly… eventful," Aiden mused, tapping the file. "Is he one of the 'chosen ones'?"

"Perhaps," the Director conceded. "But you, my dear Dragon, have been quite brave yourself. You directly detained one of the key spokespersons for the goblin sovereignty movement." He handed over a second file.

This one detailed the life of Urs, a powerful goblin and the leader of the most aggressive hard-line faction within their society.

"So, the goblins aren't a monolith either," Aiden observed, handing both files back.

"Is any intelligent species?" the Director countered. "Individual differences guarantee conflicting interests. It is the nature of things." He clapped his hands, and the two files floated back over to Aiden.

"What now?"

"You're leaving, I presume?" The Director clasped his own hands together, his eyes flashing with a look of pure, pleading innocence. "Would you be a dear and drop these off at the Goblin Liaison Office on your way out?"

Aiden stared at him, utterly speechless.

[Chapter Complete]

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