NOVEL NEXT Chapter 7: Chapter 7. A Failed Search
The new treasure chest produced two duplicate cards and a new one.
[Smuggler Mundungus (R): In most underground markets, there are rumors about Mundungus the Smuggler. It is said that, given enough Galleons, he can bring you any goods.
Skill: Trade – Destroy this card. When purchasing any item, you may pay far less than its price to successfully obtain it.]
Without any hesitation, William once again chose a card with no chance of failure.
Then, he quickly flipped to the system's inventory and noticed that the note behind Mundungus's card had been changed to 'Hatred.'
Well, damn. He hadn't even done anything to Mundungus. Could it be that Nine-Fingers and the others had loose lips and joked about the situation in a way Mundungus heard about?
Not impossible.
While speculating, William walked toward a young boy.
Over the past few days, he had learned that if anyone in the prison had a thorough understanding of the basics of magic, it was this kid.
It wasn't that the boy was some prodigy who had outsmarted the Ministry of Magic at a young age and ended up in prison. The reason he was so well-versed in the basics was because, until recently, he had been a student at Hogwarts.
Everyone knew that where there were exams, there would be cheaters. And at a school as large as Hogwarts, cheaters were caught every year.
Getting caught cheating in regular exams was bad enough. But this guy had been caught cheating during his O.W.L. exams. He wasn't only expelled but also sentenced to 6 months in Azkaban. You could say he had gained some higher education in Azkaban.
Hogwarts wasn't a school where everyone graduated. Most prisoners in Azkaban were former Hogwarts students who hadn't completed their studies—whether it was failing too many exams, casting magic outside of school, dropping out voluntarily, or breaking school rules severely. The rest of the prisoners? Most were Hogwarts graduates.
If you didn't have other information to go on, judging by where the prisoners had studied, you might think Hogwarts and Azkaban had some sort of partnership.
People like William, who had never attended Hogwarts but were instead trained by an older wizard, were rare in Azkaban. Wizards from such lineages often had unique skills passed down through generations, making it much less likely for them to commit crimes.
When William found the teen boy known as "Goat," the kid was peddling potions.
To be fair, those weren't real potions. Without the help of a wand during brewing, most potions lost their effects. Otherwise, the subject wouldn't have been such a stumbling block for so many wizards.
More important than strictly following measurements, ingredient order, and other guidelines was using suitable magic to ensure a potion's success.
The potion Goat was selling belonged to a category of inferior concoctions, relying on unstable magical manipulation and the properties of herbs. Its effects varied wildly, from causing diarrhea to requiring emergency hospitalization.
Fortunately, it wasn't for drinking but for use. William easily recognized it as an incomplete version of Amortentia.
After all, the original owner specialized in potions, and the knowledge he had inherited was particularly extensive in that area.
Although this potion couldn't be consumed, simply smelling it was considered a top-tier luxury in Azkaban. Despite its sharp, unfinished scent, its effect alone made it the prison's finest contraband; it allowed people to recall their favorite smells.
"Freshly brewed contraband! More addictive than chocolate!"
Goat enthusiastically pitched the product to William, his animated expression completely at odds with being a prisoner in Azkaban.
"Amortentia?" William raised an eyebrow. "What's the price?"
"You're a pro, huh? 50 Galleons per bottle. Don't complain about the cost; this is Azkaban. A small bottle like this, used sparingly, can last you a month!"
A month?
William chuckled. From his half-baked knowledge, he figured it would be a miracle if this stuff remained stable for 2 weeks. He was more worried it would explode in his pocket.
Seeing William's lack of interest in paying, Goat's demeanor shifted instantly.
He waved dismissively. "Broke idiot, get lost. Don't ruin my business!"
Oh—so he wasn't afraid the potion would expire and someone would kill him over it, huh?
William turned and walked away without a second thought. He had initially planned to offer some leftover chocolate in exchange for information about Hogwarts' curriculum. It seemed like a fair trade, especially considering the kid was probably struggling with poor food and sleep in prison.
But now? With Goat pulling in this kind of money, even offering chocolate felt pointless. The kid was all about profit; who would care about some lousy chocolate?
***
Mundungus spent half the day convincing Moody that he was just tired and needed rest—or at least pretending to believe it. Mundungus wasn't about to push his luck.
In front of an old comrade, he couldn't exactly drop his pants to leave a surprise for the inmates. With a sense of regret, he accompanied Moody out of Azkaban.
Still, he managed to take 9 sickles and 15 knuts as a final swipe at those fools' wealth.
As a smuggler with a side gig in thievery, Mundungus never left a settlement empty-handed. It was a matter of pride.
Moody sneered at the idea and even suggested burning the money along with Mundungus's prison clothes on the ship out of Azkaban. But Mundungus insisted on keeping the spoils.
"Mundungus, no more stealing after this release. If you land back in Azkaban, don't expect me to pull strings for an old friend."
"Of course not! I'm planning to work for Dumbledore for a few more years."
The long-lost freedom and fresh sea breeze made Mundungus feel ecstatic. He even spoke cheerfully about things he never thought he'd say before his imprisonment.
Compared to the horrors of Azkaban, anything Dumbledore asked him to do felt like child's play. He could even slack off while working and sneak a shipment of cheap goods for the Ministry.
Moody gave Mundungus a thorough once-over before chuckling.
"I doubt you'll be much help this time. Albus has his hands full."
"Dumbledore? Having trouble? What could possibly stump him?" Mundungus's voice brimmed with confidence, his faith in Dumbledore far exceeding his faith in himself.
"There is something. Hogwarts needs a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor again. Why don't you give it a shot?"
"That's no big deal! Are you saying Mundungus can't—" Halfway through the sentence, Mundungus slapped a hand over his mouth, forcing himself to swallow the rest of the words.