Chapter 471: Blessing or Curse?
Chapter 471: Blessing or Curse?
If Quirrell knew that Albert was currently agonizing over how to handle the Philosopher's Stone in his possession, he would probably be so frustrated that he'd clutch his chest and spit blood! In order to increase his chances of successfully stealing the Stone, Quirrell had gone to great lengths to gather information, even indirectly prying information about the protective enchantments from the various professors.
Yet, those so-called magical protections had just been effortlessly broken by Albert moments ago.
Quirrell was now painstakingly plotting to get information about tackling Fluffy from Hagrid, only to be completely outdone by Albert's offhand mention of a Greek myth.
In a way, Quirrell was fortunate to be ignorant of this fact.
...
The night of April was unbearably muggy.
Before arriving at the Hog's Head, Quirrell had taken a complex potion.
Not only that, he was also cloaked and hooded, concealing himself thoroughly, as if he was afraid of being recognized.
It wasn't unusual to see peculiar individuals at the Hog's Head, so the presence of yet another figure shrouded in a hood and cloak didn't raise any eyebrows. Occasionally, such characters did make an appearance.
Quirrell strode up to the counter and requested a bottle of mead from the bartender before turning to survey the pub. His eyes narrowed as they landed on Hagrid, seated in a corner.
Quite a coincidence.
As all the tables at the Hog's Head were occupied, Quirrell chose to sit in the empty seat next to Hagrid. There were a few others playing cards with Hagrid, but he seemed a bit distracted.
Quirrell had no idea that Hagrid's distraction stemmed from his search for the very wizard who could provide him with dragon eggs.
Hagrid had been waiting here for some time, unable to locate that person, but he hadn't forgotten Albert's advice, so he didn't act too strangely.
When his companions suggested a game of cards, Hagrid agreed, as it was all in good fun, and losing a round only cost a few Sickles.
As Quirrell sat down, the three of them turned to look at him.
Quirrell rasped, "I hope you don't mind if I join."
They didn't object, so Quirrell joined their card game.
As they played, they boasted about their various exploits.
The middle-aged man to Hagrid's left was a smuggler, regaling the group with tales of his smuggling adventures.
He claimed to have just returned from India with a variety of exotic Asian goods.
"If you're interested in anything, come find me. I'll give you a 10% discount."
The smuggler then told them about a strange fellow who had purchased an entire nest of Serpentbird eggs from him for 100 Galleons. Apparently, the man wanted to use the yolks to create a special kind of shampoo.
"That guy gave me a bottle, saying it would lock in the shine of my hair. He told me to come find him if I wanted more." As he spoke, the smuggler pulled out a small bottle of shampoo from his briefcase.
For some reason, his expression was unusually complex as he talked about this incident.
"Shampoo made from Serpentbird egg yolks, now that's luxurious," Hagrid commented, his eyes lighting up at the mention of eggs. But his interest waned when the smuggler pulled out a bottle of shampoo instead of eggs, leaving him bewildered.
Next to the smuggler sat a young, slender man who was smoking a cigar, leisurely blowing out a large smoke ring and looking quite content.
The young man examined the shampoo with interest, a faint smile playing on his lips. He ran his fingers through his hair and asked curiously, "Your hair doesn't seem to have that 'locked-in shine' you mentioned."
In fact, everyone noticed that the smuggler's hair was rather peculiar, as if something had chewed on it, making him a source of suppressed laughter.
"That's because... this shampoo can be dangerous if not used properly!" The smuggler screeched angrily, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
He then threw the bottle of shampoo on the ground and crushed it under his foot.
"I must have been crazy to believe his nonsense! Something about diluting it at a certain ratio, what rubbish!" The smuggler took another large gulp of his drink, clearly a bit drunk.
"Care for a cigar? It'll help improve your mood, I guarantee it." The young man with the cigar offered one to the smuggler with a smile, saying, "Seeing as you're in a bad mood, I'll give you a 20% discount today."
"Don't think I don't know you've laced those with something," the smuggler said, waving away the cigar and slamming his cards down on the table before storming off.
"Anyone else?" the young man asked, offering the cigars to Hagrid and Quirrell.
Both men shook their heads in refusal.
"What a shame," the young man said, taking another puff of his cigar. He then reached for the smuggler's discarded cards on the table and chuckled, "As expected, he's a sore loser."
With that, he, too, got up to leave, intending to find other customers who might be interested in his enhanced cigars.
The card game had broken up halfway through, but no one really seemed to mind.
"What do you do for a living?" Hagrid asked curiously, turning to the man beside him who was wrapped up tightly in his cloak.
This fellow kept his face hidden in the shadows of his hood, making it impossible to see his features.
"I'm just a peddler, selling all sorts of things.
Quirrell calmly said, "If you need my help finding something, I can assist you. Anything can be discussed as long as the price is right."
"A peddler? Your tone doesn't sound like that of a typical peddler," Hagrid said in surprise.
"There are many types of peddlers, and I deal in a wide range of goods. Anything can be discussed as long as the price is right," Quirrell replied as he poured himself and Hagrid another drink and countered with a question. "And you?"
"Me? I'm the gamekeeper of the Hogwarts game reserve," Hagrid said, taking a hearty gulp of mead and smacking his lips. "Anyone who knows me is aware of that."
"A game reserve? I deal with many such reserves, as you know, and they occasionally trade some interesting creatures," Quirrell was pleased to steer the conversation in the direction he wanted.
"I recall that the Forbidden Forest has quite a few specialties that are popular," Quirrell asked, feigning curiosity.
"Are you interested in that?"
"Yes, I am," Quirrell replied calmly. "After all, I'm a peddler, and there may come a time when we do business together."
The two continued to play cards while casually chatting about magical creatures.
Quirrell had done his homework if he wanted to successfully extract the answers he sought from Hagrid. During their casual conversation, he skillfully steered the topic towards magical beasts.
Quirrell mentioned many of the game reserves he had visited and tried to bond with Hagrid, suggesting future collaborations and the potential to make Galleons together.
In turn, Hagrid, prompted by Quirrell's persistent questioning, shared stories of the magical creatures he had cared for and his experiences dealing with them.
"Why are you so curious about all this?" Hagrid asked, his cheeks already flushed with drunkenness.
"A friend asked me to inquire. Of course, I won't let you give me this information for nothing. As a reward, I can offer you a drink or some Galleons," Quirrell said, buying another bottle of whiskey from the counter and pouring a large glass for Hagrid.
"I've always wanted a dragon," Hagrid muttered, not forgetting the reason for his visit.
"A dragon?" Quirrell was pleased that things were progressing according to his plan.
"Raising dragons is illegal, as you know. There's been quite a fuss about it lately, and that's how I ended up with a dragon egg that I can't sell," he explained.
Quirrell made himself sound frustrated as he spoke about this matter.
In fact, he was genuinely frustrated, having spent over an hour sitting with Hagrid.
"A dragon egg!" Hagrid's eyes, which had been slightly bleary, suddenly cleared.
Albert's prediction was coming true.
Just as Hagrid was about to burst with excitement, he quickly remembered Albert's words, and said, "If you're willing, I'm willing to..."
"If you want it, let's play cards for it!" Quirrell interrupted. "If you can beat me ten times, the dragon egg is yours. But if you lose even once, you pay me five Galleons. Of course, if you lose to me twenty times, it's still yours. You know, if I weren't so desperate to get rid of it, a dragon egg would be worth much more."
"I don't have that much money on me," Hagrid said helplessly.
"This price is already very reasonable."
"You don't seem too keen on keeping it?"
"The Ministry is cracking down hard. If they find out I have a dragon egg, I'll be in deep trouble," Quirrell offered as a convenient excuse. "Of course, if you're willing to buy it with Galleons, I'd be happy to sell it to you."
"Let's play cards, then," Hagrid agreed after a moment's consideration.
They played cards and drank, and soon there were several empty bottles on the table. Hagrid was getting tipsy.
After Hagrid won five games, Quirrell suddenly said, "By the way, I must make sure you have the ability to handle a dragon."
Hagrid's face showed surprise and confusion.
"I don't want the dragon to cause trouble and eventually lead the Ministry back to me. After all, I'm just trying to do business, not cause problems for myself," Quirrell explained.
"Don't worry, I'm quite skilled at dealing with fierce beasts," Hagrid assured him, downing the rest of his beer and patting his chest.
"What kind of magical beasts have you dealt with?" Quirrell asked as he shuffled the cards.
"I've taken care of a lot of creatures in the Forbidden Forest, including a Night Pride, a Hippogriff, an Acromantula, and even a Centaur. I've also dealt with giants, and Fluffy, the three-headed dog, is no problem for me. A dragon is nothing..." Hagrid boasted.
"A three-headed dog, I've heard of those beasts, they're supposed to be extremely dangerous," Quirrell said, his excitement growing.
"I've heard that some wizards have unique ways of subduing the three-headed dog," Quirrell asked curiously. "How did you manage it?"
"Oh, the three-headed dog is easy to handle. You just need to play some music for it, and it'll fall asleep in no time," Hagrid replied casually.
"Music?"
Quirrell could hardly believe his ears. Was Hagrid's method for subduing the three-headed dog really as simple as playing music for it?
At that moment, Quirrell felt like his whole world was crashing down around him.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
Report
