Chapter 121: Delivering the Trust
It had rained last night—soft, steady, and unrelenting for two or three hours. By the time the sun rose, Diagon Alley’s cobblestones were still damp, with green moss creeping through the cracks in the gray-black bricks and clinging to the walls. Wade pulled his hood lower, walking down the street. His tattered boots squelched through the damp moss, leaving behind a smeared green footprint on the stone.
At the moment, he looked like an aging man—gaunt-faced, dark circles under his eyes, his wizard robes patched and frayed, giving him the appearance of a man long forgotten by fortune.
The alley wasn’t busy yet. Far fewer people than yesterday’s book launch for Lockhart. Shopkeepers were sweeping with brooms and wiping down surfaces with cloths. They barely glanced up as Wade passed—no interest, no greeting.
A few children were running and jumping through the streets, laughing. One boy had already stationed himself outside the Broomstick Shop, pressed nose-to-glass, staring with starry-eyed fascination at the newest Comet 2001 model inside.
Next to the shop was a modest White Deer Beverage Shop. A young man was arranging bottles on the shelves when he suddenly called out to the children:
“Be careful! Don’t run into people!”
“Know it!” the children shouted back.
But promise and action were two different things. With few people around, the kids played without restraint. One boy, still looking back to shout to a friend, dashed forward—then abruptly collided with a cloaked wizard standing by the roadside.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!” he stammered, already bowing his head in apology. But before he could lift his face, a hand like an eagle’s claw seized the back of his neck.
“Apologize after knocking someone down? That’s all you get?” The dry, cracked voice was chilling. The thin fingers dug into the boy’s neck. “No, you’ll need to do more than that.”
The beverage shop’s young owner rushed out, panic in his voice:
“I’m sorry! He’s my younger brother. I apologize on his behalf… uh—would you like a free drink? I’ll buy you one!”
He looked up at the wizard—and froze.
The man’s face was deathly pale. His eyes glowed with a faint green light. His cheekbones jutted sharply, and a jagged scar ran from his jaw to his temple. An unnatural stench clung to him. He licked his lips slowly, then smiled—a grotesque twist of the mouth that sent shivers down the boy’s spine.
“I don’t want free drink,” the wizard rasped. “If you want to make amends, show me real sincerity. Could you do me a small favor?”
The boy’s skin crawled. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He swallowed hard and asked, “…What kind of favor?”
“Deliver a letter,” the wizard said, pulling out a thick envelope. “Simple enough.”
The boy glanced at the address. It was nearby—nothing too sinister. Not Knockturn Alley, at least.
He hesitated. Then looked at his younger brother, still trembling, eyes wide with fear.
With a deep breath, he took the envelope.
“Alright. What else do you need?”
The wizard’s cold gaze swept over both of them. He chuckled. “The recipient has a bad temper. If you bring your younger brother along, he might be a little more lenient.”
The boy exhaled, relieved. Ah, so that’s why he didn’t do it himself.
“Also,” the wizard released the boy’s brother, “you’re under my curse the moment you accept this letter.”
As the boy paled, the wizard let out a dry, mocking laugh. “If you don’t deliver the letter on time, I can’t guarantee what happens to you.”
The boy clenched his jaw. “I’ll deliver it on time.”
“Good. I hope you’re lucky.” The wizard grinned, strange and unnatural, then turned and walked away.
The boy stood frozen, gripping the envelope. He reached out and gently patted his brother’s head. “I’ll deliver the letter. You go home quickly.”
“No! I’m coming with you!” the boy wailed, tears streaming.
“It’s just a letter,” the older brother said, trying to sound calm. “No danger. I’ll be back soon.”
But the younger boy didn’t understand what had happened. All he knew was that he’d caused trouble—and now he was scared. And he remembered the wizard’s words: Bring your brother, and the recipient won’t be angry with him.
He couldn’t be persuaded. After a moment of silence, the older brother left a note on the counter, locked the shop door, and started walking toward the address on the envelope.
Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes, he thought optimistically. And Dad should be back from Gringotts soon. He’ll see the note and come looking for us.
He didn’t see the cloaked wizard return, push back into the shop, linger for a moment, then emerge and follow him.
The middle-aged man resting on the bench by the roadside sighed softly, then slowly rose to his feet, watching the three figures vanish down the street.
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The boy held the envelope, matching the house numbers on the buildings to the address. He walked deeper into a quiet alley, scanning both sides. But no matter how many times he circled, he couldn’t find the place.
“Brother…” the younger boy whispered, clutching his hand.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m scared…”
The narrow alley stretched between high, shuttered houses. The boy made a quick decision.
“Let’s go back. Dad can come with us.”
But they’d only taken two steps when they froze.
The wizard stood at the mouth of the alley.
“Bad children,” he hissed, voice like sandpaper. “Breaking your promise. You haven’t delivered the letter… and you want to go home?”
The older boy pulled out his wand instantly, shielding his brother. “I didn’t break my promise—I just couldn’t find the place!”
The wizard stepped forward. “I know where it is. Let me take you.”
“You can deliver it yourself!” the younger boy suddenly yelled. “We’re going home! Dad’s waiting!”
“No,” the wizard said, voice colder. “He can’t wait. He doesn’t even know where you are.”
He tossed a small paper ball at their feet. The boy looked down—and his blood ran cold.
The paper was his own handwriting. It was the note he’d left for his father.
He stumbled back, wand trembling in his hand. “Stupefy!” he shouted.
A red beam shot forward—but missed. The spell grazed the wizard’s hair and exploded against the wall behind him.
“Run!” the boy screamed, yanking his brother away.
But before they could take a step, a voice cut through the air:
“Petrificus Totalus!”
The two boys froze instantly, rigid as statues, then collapsed to the ground.
A new figure now stood before them—a wrinkled elderly witch, slowly sliding her wand back into her sleeve. She let out a dry, grating laugh.
“Little pups with sharp claws, aren’t they?”
The wizard cursed, wiping blood from his nose as he staggered forward. He kicked the petrified boy hard, sending him rolling across the ground. Then he pointed his wand at the boy’s chest.
“Cruciatus Curse!”
Boom!
A violent explosion ripped from the wizard’s chest—bloody blossoms burst open across his torso, and his body flew backward, crashing into the alley wall.
(End of Chapter)
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