chsdbacks Chapter 242 The Fire in Knockout Alley
Chapter 242 The Fire in Knockout Alley
Chapter 242 The Fire in Knockout Alley
"So the reason we can't buy wands right now is because Gringotts doesn't accept Muggle currency for exchange?"
The person asking the question seemed to have a strong obsession with the magic wand. Those answering knew this perfectly well; weren't they all like that?
"Yes, we all want wands, we all want to trade them for Galen. But Gringotts belongs to the goblins—"
This statement resonated with everyone present. They came from all over the world and received different educations. Some had already bought wands, while others hadn't, but they had all experienced the goblins' harassment and were all subservient to Gringotts.
Ryan could see what these people didn't say; he could see them crying out deep in their hearts: Why?
Why should the wizards' economic lifeline be in the hands of fairies?
Why should all their hard work in the first half of their lives be for nothing, and why should they have to give up everything and start over, just like the fairy wants?
Why should they face this pathetic situation—unacceptable to the wizarding world without obtaining a magic wand, unable to earn Galleons through work; yet without Galleons, they cannot obtain a wand—
The fairies are destroying the future I want — Ryan's smile faded, replaced by solemnity.
He thought about many things in a short time. For example, the harm caused by the goblins' behavior, at the very least, was that it made it difficult for these people to obtain wands, but at a greater extent, it was that they were deliberately blocking all the Squibs who were seeking transformation, which was obviously not conducive to the Squibs integrating into the wizarding world.
The consequences of fairies controlling the economic lifeline are even more severe. In peacetime, the economy is undoubtedly the most important account to be clear about, but the account book is in the hands of fairies who are very hostile to wizards. This is simply a case of the devil holding the reins!
These Squibs clearly cannot get the support of the Ministry of Magic, because the Ministry of Magic cannot force all the goblins to do so for their sake.
One point of contention between Crouch and Larvin was whether Gringotts should be restricted because of the living conditions of the Squibs.
Clearly, Larvin failed.
Clearly, no one felt there was anything wrong with the economic lifeline being in the hands of fairies; it seemed to be the norm, the way things were.
Ryan turned his gaze to the small white building at the end of the long street, his eyes unreadable.
"Young man, it's hard for people like us to attract attention. We're like grass growing in the cracks of the ground, growing as little as we can."
The speaker suddenly turned around and noticed that the young man who had just been speaking was not wearing a black robe, but had suddenly changed into one, pulling his hat brim low so that no one could see his face.
He quickly asked, "What's wrong? Do you need help?"
A voice, much hoarser than before, came from beneath the black robe: "No need—thank you."
Underneath his black robes, Ryan felt ashamed to face the poor souls he had single-handedly drawn into the magical world. Giving them hope, yet setting up numerous obstacles in their path, was undoubtedly the most disgusting act in the world.
Even if this wasn't his wish, and even if he couldn't change the situation in the short term, the whole affair originated with him—
The Squibs, hoping to obtain the wands, silently walked towards the entrance of Knockturn Alley after seeing the black-robed man who had suddenly appeared and said a few words.
Someone called out, their voice filled with worry: "Young man, don't be foolish. These past few days, many brothers and sisters have placed their hopes on the dark wizard underground, just like you, but few have come out alive. As long as you're alive, there's hope. Don't despair; Mr. Ryan will remember us!"
The man in black robes staggered a few steps, his body swaying violently, almost losing his balance. Then, he suddenly accelerated and rushed into the overturned alley, as if he could no longer bear to listen to the shouts of the duds.
"Sigh, another one—" People sighed helplessly, thinking that another soul was about to be lost in the hands of those black wizards who cared nothing for human life. There was nothing they could do. They were too weak and powerless. They could only watch helplessly as their compatriots walked down the road of no return. They didn't even have the right to dissuade them.
Because they cannot provide guarantees.
Only when the magic wizards who work in the Tower of Fantasy offer them occasional relief do these rats from the shadows, and only then do they experience the fragrance of magic.
"I heard—"
Some wanted to share interesting rumors. But the scene that had just unfolded weighed heavily on their minds, leaving them speechless.
Overturned Alley.
Dirty and gloomy.
The shops on both sides were lined with shops selling dark magic. Each shop displayed gruesome images, such as withered human heads, enormous black spiders, ragged creatures locked in dark doorways, and candle flames emitting green smoke.
In a horror story passed down by Muggles, an old witch dragged a stack of wriggling worms, revealing a sinister and eerie smile.
There are those who appear to be well-dressed elites, but suddenly their eyeballs fall out, revealing bottomless emptiness.
Some werewolves, showing signs of wolf-like transformation, greedily sniffed the blood, clearly having not hunted for a long time and unable to suppress their desire for flesh and blood.
But in the next instant, the dark, dilapidated, and eerie alley was bathed in light.
Everyone living in the alley looked up at the horizon in terror.
Flames began to spread.
The blazing golden flames, as if alive, meandered and burned, sealing off all the entrances and exits.
All the shop owners and the wizards who had business in Diagon Alley, with cold hands and feet, lived in the darkness, and they were precisely the ones with the most keen sense of smell—ever since they saw that video, they knew they had made a mistake, and a fatal one at that.
Bokbokin stood in front of his shop, in front of the stone fireplace. In the glass case were withered human hands, bloodstained playing cards, and motionless glass eyeballs. Masks of the spirits loomed down on the wall, along with various human bones and rusty instruments.
Looking at the dazzling golden light, which brightened his perpetually gloomy shop, he couldn't help but think of the time when magic wizards were first born, when Squibs came from all over the world to venture into this place, wanting to obtain their wands and transform themselves into wizards.
However, Gringotts backed down after the initial wave of exchange began, because the goblins did not believe that paper money with general equivalents had any use value.
So, when those people who followed ran out of money, some naturally took the risk. Because their living conditions in the Muggle world were also harsh, and they had worked illegal jobs and in unlicensed factories, they believed that dark wizards and these unscrupulous merchants were the same.
Burke Bojin chuckled, it was unclear whether he was laughing at the dark wizards who were blinded by biological materials or at his own caution that had saved him from disaster.
"When was that? I remember a young man named Tom Riddle working for me—"
He suddenly remembered someone who, in some vague legends, eventually acquired a resounding name.
That legendary name, like the golden sun we see today, brings endless fear to those who oppose him.
"I heard that a new Muggle protection law is going to be introduced, which was personally pushed by Deputy Minister Larvin and Director Arthur."
7
He went back to his room, leaned back in his high-backed chair, and enjoyed the rare light.