Inside the Toad Bar, the screams gradually faded, giving way to a deathly silence.
Mike McArthur, a reporter for the Daily Prophet, cautiously peeked out from behind a trash can, his eyes wide with shock.
Mama mia! What on earth is going on?!
Is this some new official setting three fires upon taking office?!
Knockturn Alley had always been a cancerous tumor in the wizarding world, but it was intertwined with various factions, so the Ministry of Magic had always turned a blind eye to it.
But unexpectedly, today, out of nowhere...
This must have provoked some powerful force that came to wipe them out!
Mike's nostrils flared, sniffing out the scent of a super big scoop.
In his mind, he already envisioned his article completely crushing that annoying woman, Rita.
He crouched low, carefully creeping closer.
He peered through a shattered window into the interior.
That one glance nearly made him vomit on the spot!
A living hell—it was simply a living hell!
None of the Dark Wizards who remained in the bar survived; all had been tortured to death in extremely cruel ways.
If the Dementor's Kiss was the ultimate spiritual punishment...
Then this was the most brutal and terrifying physical punishment.
Mike recognized one of the deceased as a wanted criminal recently featured in the newspapers.
Merely because he made eye contact with someone on the street, he pulled out his wand from behind, took that person's life, and shattered several families.
Because he was skilled in facial transfiguration and very cautious, his capture had been difficult.
Well, now, there was no need to capture him.
He had gone straight to Merlin.
"Ugh! Good riddance!" Mike spat on the ground, muttering under his breath.
He composed himself and slowly walked inside, alert yet excitedly clicking the shutter.
"Mr. Lamp... It's Mr. Lamp..."
Hmm?
Mike caught a faint sound from the floor.
However, before he could inquire further, the sound ceased.
Mr. Lamp...?
He had never heard of him.
Mike walked deeper into the bar, still puzzled.
He stepped over a tall corpse and peered into a doorway.
"!"
Mike gasped, quickly closing his eyes, muttering Merlin's name, making the sign of the cross over his chest, and bowing in prayer to the Jade Emperor and Queen Mother of the West. He was a half-blood, Muggle and wizard, and usually enjoyed visiting Chinatown in Charing Cross Road.
Only after he felt he had accumulated enough good karma did Mike open his eyes and bravely step inside to take photos.
Suddenly, he noticed a familiar figure slumped in the corner.
"Hmm? Is that—Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart?!"
Mike instantly grew anxious, rushing forward, squatting down, and urgently shaking Lockhart's shoulder.
"Mr. Lockhart! Mr. Lockhart! Wake up!"
...Oh, oh? What... what happened to me...?
"Thank Merlin, you're alive! Mr. Lockhart, look at me, I'm here—"
"Oh, ah?"
"One, two, three—Cheese!"
"Click!"
A blinding flash of white light passed, forever capturing Lockhart's most disheveled moment.
In Lockhart's bewildered gaze, Mike looked at the camera in his hand with satisfaction, convinced in his heart:
This bonus was definitely his!
Marcus Manor.
"Young... Young Master, you have a letter..." The house-elf said fearfully and respectfully.
"Put it there!"
The wealthy young master, who was also the client who had been scammed in Knockturn Alley and placed the bounty in the newspaper, Marcus, impatiently shouted, not even looking.
His hands were clasped behind his head, his hair messy like a bird's nest, his eyes bloodshot, staring intently at the newspaper spread before him, looking extremely anxious and terrified.
This made the house-elf, Micky, very worried.
"Ever since Young Master read the Daily Prophet this morning, he hasn't smiled again..."
"Bad Micky, giving Young Master bad newspapers, bad Micky!"
"Thwack!"
With a crisp sound, the shouting ceased abruptly.
He Apparated away.
Marcus stared intently at the front page of the Daily Prophet, muttering repeatedly:
"How could this happen... completely wiped out? No, this must just be a coincidence... it has nothing to do with me..."
The front-page report read:
[Major Documentary: The Doomsday of Knockturn Alley's Dark Wizards]
[It is suspected that some Dark Wizards provoked an unknown large organization, leading to their demise. According to Auror statistics, there are at least seventeen bodies at the scene, a gruesome sight. Preliminary judgment indicates a lynching...]
[...The mysterious Mr. Lamp merely made a slight move and took down an entire bar of Dark Wizards, even easily defeating the famous wizard, Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart!]
[Although the latter vehemently insisted that the opponent used a cunning sneak attack and that he intentionally lost...]
[Another student who came with Lockhart has already contacted us and is currently safe and sound.]
[Reported by our reporter, Mike McArthur.]
Seventeen Dark Wizards?!
The rich young master, Marcus, felt dizzy.
Even when You-Know-Who was at his most rampant, it was rare for seventeen people to die at once!
What kind of existence was that "Mr. Lamp"... It shouldn't have anything to do with his commission, right?
Marcus only knew that Gilderoy Lockhart and another person had accepted his commission.
The other person had not signed the letter, merely asking him to send the commission details to them.
Could it be that...
"No, it shouldn't be."
Marcus stood up anxiously, muttering:
"How could I be so important as to have the head of a large organization personally intervene... This is just a small, insignificant commission..."
Thinking this, his mood improved slightly.
He turned his head, saw the letter on the cabinet, and walked over.
He picked up the letter, looking at the unsigned, blank envelope with confusion and impatience.
"Who sent this? Is it those hyena-like reporters again...?!"
Marcus suddenly froze, stiffening in place, his face instantly turning pale.
In his hand, the opened letter slipped to the floor.
It contained a concise statement:
[Your commission has been successfully completed. Awaiting your payment.]
[—Mr. Lamp]
"—Micky!!"
"Thwack!"
"Young Master! Are you alright? What's wrong with you?!"
"Don't touch me!"
Marcus flung the house-elf's hand away, leaning on the cabinet, covering his face, and said in utter terror:
"Go, go to Gringotts and withdraw money... One thousand, no, withdraw two thousand Galleons for me directly!"
"Young Master!"
The house-elf's eyes widened.
Two thousand Galleons!
This was definitely not a small sum.
Who exactly was this person... who could make the Young Master, who was usually fearless, so panicked...
"Yes, Young Master! Micky will go immediately!"
With a pop, the house-elf vanished.
"...Go write a reply, and be sure to choose your words carefully and respectfully."
Marcus stumbled to the desk, collapsing onto the chair, drenched in sweat.
All that was left was to pray to Merlin.
...He never expected that after You-Know-Who, there would still be such a terrifying mysterious organization.
Grindelwald, who was involved with Dumbledore, You-Know-Who, who originated from Britain, and now this merciless "Mr. Lamp" has appeared...
Hmm.
He should move to Germany and inherit the dull and uninteresting family business.
The British wizarding world was too damn sinister.
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