Merlin City, Downtown.
Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes had officially opened.
If you thought Count Dentis would attend the grand opening, you'd be mistaken—he did not show up.
Across from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes stood the new branch of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Though labeled a branch, it housed many of St. Mungo's best doctors. With medical experts from across the globe arriving in Merlin City, the institution had to uphold its reputation.
Two doors down from the hospital and a left turn brought you to a newly opened bar, adorned with every magical decorative element imaginable.
Its sign read: The Leaky Cauldron.
Inside, Hannah Abbott assisted her mother at the front desk. The first floor buzzed with the clinking of glasses, conversation, and laughter.
Unlike its Diagon Alley counterpart, this Leaky Cauldron didn't offer lodging. Instead, the upper floors provided quiet, private meeting rooms for wizards.
Suite 201.
Count Dentis sat near the window, gazing out at the bustling street. Opposite him sat Barty Crouch Sr.
"Mr. Crouch, my Merlin City is quite something, isn't it?" the Count said with a smile.
Crouch forced a tight smile. "It is. I've never seen so many wizards gathered in one place. Everyone seems delighted. Still, I believe the British Ministry of Magic should oversee Merlin City's security."
Count Dentis chuckled. "Mr. Crouch, your Auror Office is too overwhelmed to spare forces for Merlin City. The Ashwinder Gang has been making waves lately, hasn't it? My own attendants maintain excellent order here. Look for yourself."
Outside, a patrol of green-uniformed magical law officers marched past. Farther down the road, others escorted a thief toward the local precinct. Justice would be swift—fifteen days in prison.
Crouch fell silent, downing his Firewhisky in one gulp. The burn in his throat mirrored the bitterness in his heart—not from the drink, but from memories.
"Security here is obviously fine..." he muttered. "Forgive me, Count. It wasn't my request. I'm being used as a pawn."
"Of course," said the Count smoothly. "Bank Manager Wang mentioned your eagerness to work with us. I understand you're merely the messenger."
"So then," the Count continued, "what brings you here today, Mr. Crouch? What can I help you with?"
Crouch hesitated, then sighed. "You're perceptive, Count. I once stood on the threshold of becoming Minister of Magic."
"Indeed," Dentis said. "Your downfall came only through your son's scandal, which allowed Cornelius Fudge to swoop in."
Crouch drained another glass. "It wasn't just that. Fudge exposed the scandal himself, despite promising to keep it buried... I shouldn't say more."
But Count Dentis had already pieced it together: Fudge had blackmailed Crouch into swapping Dana with Guy Avery and disposing of the Ministry worker Hawking. Later, Fudge betrayed him to ascend the political ladder.
"I see. So you want to reclaim your place as Minister?"
"Yes. And I believe I can do better than Fudge ever could."
The Count leaned back. "And what would I gain by helping you?"
"Unimpeded support within the Ministry. Every door opened."
"Reasonable," Dentis replied. "But I'll need time to consider."
He stood. "Now, if you'll excuse me, my team has a Quidditch match. If I'm late, I'll miss the whole thing—we only need seconds to win."
"Please," Crouch said quickly, "keep our conversation confidential."
"Of course. I gain nothing by betraying you."
At the door, the Count paused. "While I deliberate, consider what else you offer beyond political favors. Partnerships require balance. There's no such thing as a free lunch."
As the door shut behind him, Crouch slumped in his seat. The Count hadn't refused—there was hope yet.
He poured another drink, staring into his glass.
The Foundation had brought financial relief but with strings attached: performance appraisals, salary tiers, and external oversight.
Employees were now pandering to Foundation officials—not their Ministry supervisors.
In time, the Foundation would command more influence than Fudge himself.
If I become Minister, Crouch thought, I'll take that power back.
Even if I'm a puppet, I'll be the strongest puppet in Britain.
The Count exited Suite 201. The corridor was hushed, each room silenced by powerful charms to ensure privacy. It was the perfect place for high-level negotiations.
As he walked, his form shimmered—Count Dentis became Dana Emrys once again.
Descending the stairs, he spotted Hannah Abbott dashing between tables.
"Hannah!"
"Oh, Dana! Sorry, I'm so busy—if you need a drink, help yourself. It's on me!"
"No need. My match is starting."
"Good luck—wait, never mind! You'll win for sure. Come back afterward! I owe you thanks for speaking so highly of us to the Count."
"I'm headed to the twins' shop afterward. Today's their grand opening."
"Really? I wish I could go! I love their stuff."
"They used their Daily Prophet prize to stock the place. You'll love it when you get a chance."
"Definitely!"
Hannah turned away as someone shouted for service.
"Coming, Mum!"
She had no idea that in another timeline, her mother would die of illness in 1996.
But now, with the best healers stationed next door, maybe fate would change.
Dana smiled.
Kindness must be returned tenfold.
He had repaid another debt.
But how to repay Professor McGonagall... that, he still hadn't figured out.
End of the Chapter.