Chapter 101: The Possibility Of Guarding And Stealing
Moonlight slanted in through the window into the simple wooden house, and the person sitting by the kerosene lamp put down the report, leaned back in the chair, frowning in thought.
Looking out from the window, there was a scorched wasteland in disarray, with faint black ash smoke rising; if one got close to breathe, the distinct smell of sulfur could still be detected.
“A total of 23 dragon eggs were stolen.” Anton Vogel faced these guests who had come from afar without hiding anything, “Auror have already been notified to seal off and check wizards entering and leaving the country. The situation is not optimistic; they may have already escaped… If these dragon eggs aren’t recovered, many mother dragons may suffer from postpartum depression.”
Melvin asked thoughtfully, “23 dragon eggs stolen at the same time, with swift action and no traces left behind—it should be an organized and planned operation, right?”
“Who says it isn’t? Professor Levent, your perception is very keen.” Vogel nodded, picking up the teapot on the table to pour the guests full of the red liquid drink, “Try this—dragon blood brandy, a specialty here, no alcohol, all the stimulating flavor from the dragon blood.”
Melvin took a sip and calmly set down the teacup.
Hagrid and Kettleburn might like it, but they weren’t here; as professionals, they were outside helping to soothe and handle the fire dragons.
“Well-trained, long-planned, and very familiar with the reserve… I must remind you, Mister Vogel, that there may be their accomplices inside the dragon sanctuary.” Melvin paused, “And more than one.”
“More than one…”
Vogel repeated softly, looking at the young professor before him—powerful in strength, quick in thought… His heart stirred, an idea popping into his mind, and he let out a deep sigh before starting to vent:
“Yes, Professor Levent, we’ve long had our suspicions. The reserve has an extremely strict management system, but the underground fire dragon trade around it is still rampant. Poaching fire dragons and stealing dragon eggs happens every year. The Ministry of Magic has had the Department of Magical Law Enforcement investigate thoroughly several times, but it only calms things down for a while; once the heat dies down, those thieving scum come crawling back…”
Melvin pretended not to catch his implication, smiling as he listened to him finish describing Romania’s law and order situation: “That’s very regrettable, but I believe the Aurors will surely arrest those criminal dark wizards.”
Vogel opened his mouth, originally wanting to seek the professor’s help, but on second thought, though this professor’s magic was frighteningly strong, he knew nothing about the situation here. When it came to actual investigating, he probably couldn’t help much.
What if they really uncovered something?
Vogel nodded and took a sip of dragon blood brandy: “Professor, do you plan to leave immediately?”
“Leave? Of course not.” Melvin smiled, “Quite the opposite—I’d like to ask when the reserve will open? I haven’t had a good look at the fire dragons yet.”
“That depends on when those fire dragons sober up.” Vogel sighed, “There have been dragon egg thefts before; it usually takes about a week. Hopefully no mother dragon gets depression…”
Ten minutes later, Melvin said goodbye, and Vogel also said he had to work overtime tonight. Before they left, he expressed gratitude again: “Professor Levent, our reserve will remember your help.”
The Romanian Ministry of Magic intensified entry and exit checks, requiring ordinary tourists to cooperate with management. Charlie still helped get them out, floating for half an hour under the night sky before checking back into Abo’s hotel.
……
At ten in the evening, Melvin, Kettleburn, and Hagrid walked the streets of Budapest, with the moist breeze from the river blowing.
Hagrid hung his head, thinking about those fire dragon mothers, in very low spirits. He felt a bit of empathy; he had been so sad parting from Norbert, and those mother dragons would only be more heartbroken.
Melvin and Kettleburn made no comment, didn’t say much, just treating it as accompanying Hagrid for a stroll.
“Melvin, don’t be fooled by that Vogel.” Kettleburn looked at the lights swaying on the Danube River surface.
“Is there something I don’t know?” Melvin was a bit surprised.
“You should know that Britain has many Death Eaters who escaped trial. Among these former criminals, some have withdrawn from public view to keep a low profile, while others have changed identities to take important positions in other countries.” Kettleburn paused briefly, “Like Bagman in the Ministry of Magic Department of Sports, or Headmaster Karkaroff of Durmstrang…”
“Vogel is one of them too?”
“He is also a criminal who escaped trial, but not a Death Eater—he’s a Witchcraft Saint.”
“Witchcraft Saint… Vogel…”
Melvin repeated the name over and over; he had felt it was somewhat familiar earlier, and with the professor mentioning it, related materials from History of Magic surfaced in his mind, and he slowly recalled.
Vogel had once been a name in the textbooks, but in modern magical history, names like Dumbledore, Grindelwald, Picquery, and Scamander were too brilliant and dazzling, making this German Minister of Magic, former president of the International Confederation of Wizards, seem obscure in the corner.
In the early 20th century, during Vogel’s tenure, he led the capture and escort of Grindelwald in the 1920s, and in the early 1930s, he organized the International Confederation of Wizards presidential election.
For unknown reasons, the German Ministry of Magic under his leadership almost entirely sided with the Cabal forces, plotting a conspiracy to make Grindelwald the new president… Later, Dumbledore and Scamander defeated Grindelwald, Vogel was purged and dismissed, and his whereabouts became unknown.
Decades later, who would have thought this former Cabal member had become a high-ranking figure in Romania.
“So that’s how it is…”
No wonder he wasn’t surprised when internal traitors were mentioned—that department head.
This land really is full of heroes and villains, a real mix of fish and dragons.
Melvin’s mood was a bit subtle.
“Strange, right? Former Death Eaters as headmasters, Cabal followers as high officials, black market trade right next to the reserve—this ecosystem has persisted for nearly a century.”
“They wouldn’t be fencing their own goods, would they?”
“Probably not; they’re in it for long-term interests. Making such a big commotion seems more like outsider wizards.”
“We’re outsider wizards too; wonder if the local businessmen will welcome us.”
Melvin looked at the bridge spanning the river.
Budapest has nine bridges crossing the Danube River, the oldest being the Széchenyi Chain Bridge, or Chain Bridge for short, between Pest’s Széchenyi Square and Buda’s Clark Ádám Square—one of the city’s landmarks and also the entrance to the wizard black market.
Three-span iron bridge, with piers 600 feet apart, the bridgeheads on both shores are tall and majestic stone triumphal arches, with exquisite arch decorations and huge stone lions standing on either side, with heavy bases.
Latin letters introducing the bridge are engraved on the side of the stone lion bases.
Tapping the letters in order with a wand, the three continued along the passage, their figures disappearing into the arches of the ancient Chain Bridge.
