Chapter 217: Mundungus
Chapter 217: Mundungus
As Albert observed the elderly man before him, Aberforth was also secretly sizing up the young boy.
In the eyes of this centenarian, Albert was undoubtedly an extraordinary child—a precocious young lad with a maturity far beyond his years. Both his words and demeanor carried a strong sense of purpose, unlike anything a typical child his age would utter.
Aberforth couldn't fathom what this child was doing in the wizarding black market. It was certainly not out of mere curiosity, as Albert had claimed.
If it were just curiosity, he wouldn't have offered a Galleon so readily, even if his family was truly wealthy. Such an act from a child of his age was meaningful and intriguing.
What was his true intention?
Could it be that he truly intended to make a deal with someone in the black market?
That seemed utterly absurd.
Aberforth preferred to believe that the boy had acted on a whim.
Of course, whatever this child wanted had nothing to do with him; Aberforth was merely curious.
He should be in Ravenclaw! Aberforth thought. Though, the Weasleys seem to all end up in Gryffindor. The old man thought of a person, his brother, the young Albus Dumbledore. Not long after enrolling at Hogwarts, Albus had displayed extraordinary magical talent. Perhaps, this boy before him was a similar sort of prodigy—brimming with talent and ambition.
Such were Aberforth's musings.
Before long, the streets of Hogsmeade began to fill with Hogwarts students, yet no one paid any heed to the secluded corner where they sat.
Hagrid hadn't left immediately. He stayed at the Hog's Head to keep an eye on Albert and the others, worried about leaving the troublemaker unattended.
The group chatted casually at a rough wooden table near the pub's entrance.
During their conversation, Albert took the opportunity to show Hagrid and Aberforth their wizarding cards. Unfortunately, Hagrid seemed less than enthusiastic, but Aberforth showed genuine interest and even played a round with Fred.
"It's certainly intriguing," Aberforth remarked, his eyes fixed on the Dumbledore card. "But if you want everyone to love it, you should put more effort into refining the cards. At the very least, make them look more polished and complete, rather than these half-baked prototypes."
"We plan to spend the next five years perfecting and promoting the game," Albert said as he began to pack up the cards. Just then, a loud crack sounded, and Mundungus Fletcher appeared outside the Hog's Head, having Apparated.
"Aberforth," Mundungus called out from the doorway.
"Why isn't he coming in?" Lee Jordan blurted out.
"How should I know?" Fred replied.
Soon after, Fred and the others learned from Hagrid that the owner of the Hog's Head didn't welcome Mundungus, a petty thief with sticky fingers.
Apparently, Mundungus had done something to earn himself a permanent ban from the pub.
Whatever grudges existed between them were none of Albert's business.
Mundungus, eyeing Aberforth, said, "Oh, Aberforth, Merlin's beard, I thought I must've misheard."
"I'm sending you a customer," Aberforth said, nodding toward Albert.
Mundungus turned his head to look at the young Albert, and his eyes widened in surprise. Then he turned back to Aberforth and said, "You're joking. Honestly, this isn't funny at all." Mundungus looked irritated; he had been eating, and Aberforth's message had startled him.
"He's not joking," Albert said, appraising the sudden arrival of the pungent thief.
Mundungus was a short, stout man with a scruffy beard and two stubby legs. He reeked of a foul odor, likely from squeezing through tight alleys or not bathing for months.
All in all, Albert didn't particularly like this fellow, but it was undeniable that Mundungus looked the part of a competent thief.
"He needs two Runespoor eggs," Aberforth said. "If you can get them for him."
"Runespoor eggs?" Mundungus's gaze shifted between Aberforth and Albert. "You know those are hot commodities in the black market. They're not easy to come by, and I highly doubt this kid can afford them."
Mundungus turned to leave, feeling disgruntled.
"Perhaps we should establish some trust first," Albert interjected. "Of course, I don't believe the black market is a place for trust, but... if we do more deals, at least there's a foundation for it."
"More deals?" Mundungus stopped in his tracks and turned back. "What do you want?"
"I need a bucket of salt," Albert said calmly. "If you can get it for me."
Albert narrowed his eyes, fixing his gaze on Mundungus. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes.
"Bloody hell, what do you want a bucket of salt for?" Mundungus asked, feeling uncomfortable under Albert's intense stare. He averted his eyes, unable to hold the boy's gaze. This kid gave him a strange feeling; the look in his eyes and the faint smile at the corners of his mouth were not what one would expect from a child.
Has this kid seen through me? Mundungus wondered, his thoughts taking a bizarre turn.
"All you need to know is that you'll get a Galleon for it," Albert said, his voice calm as he named his price.
"Fine, a bloody bucket of salt," Mundungus grumbled. "Give me a quarter of an hour. And if I find out you're messing with me..."
He trailed off as Albert casually pulled out a handful of Galleons from his pocket.
Mundungus quickly Disapparated. All he needed to know was that his customer had money. It wasn't his concern who would spend a Galleon on a bucket of salt.
"What do you want a bucket of salt for?" Hagrid asked, frowning as he glanced at the spot where Mundungus had disappeared.
"To pickle vegetables," Albert replied jokingly, though his statement wasn't entirely untrue.
"That's not funny," Hagrid said, his eyebrows arching.
"Well, a deal is the basis for cooperation," Albert explained.
"You also said that thieves can't be trusted," Hagrid reminded him, his frown deepening. "I think you should stay away from that sort of crowd. Those black market folks like to swindle people with fake goods."
"It's fine. I hold grudges," Albert said nonchalantly.
Grudges? Hagrid wondered about the meaning behind those words. Did he mean it literally?
"You said you never hold grudges!" Fred suddenly exclaimed, his eyes widening.
"Did I? When did I say that?" Albert denied ever making such a statement.
"That's so like you, Albert," Lee Jordan muttered.
"What do you want the salt for anyway?" George asked.
Albert didn't answer George's question directly. Instead, he said indifferently, "Whether it's potions, prank props, or magical artifacts, there are some things you just can't buy in Diagon Alley. Mundungus will come in handy."
(End of Chapter)
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