After understanding the situation, Moriarty approached Professor Dumbledore with a composed expression, bringing up the matter tactfully. Quirinus Quirrell, standing nearby, praised Dumbledore in an overly enthusiastic tone.
"Professor Dumbledore is always so tolerant of his students!"
"Dumbledore is the best Headmaster since the Founders themselves!"
"Professor Dumbledore possesses a magic touch when it comes to helping students find the right path. From my very first day, I realized how many students admire and are willing to serve him!"
Uncle Uriah's leg twitched involuntarily, betraying his nervousness. Sensing the moment, Moriarty interjected smoothly, "A Hogwarts wizard came here. You received them, didn't you? Him or her. Am I correct, Boss Uriah?"
"..."
Uncle Uriah's lips quivered for a moment before he pressed them shut. Moriarty slid a polished sapphire gem across the table. Uriah's eyes lingered greedily on the jewel before he sighed and lowered his hand, shaking his head slowly.
Moriarty and Lilith exchanged glances. That confirmed it—silence was as good as an answer.
Rather than pressing further, Moriarty quietly retrieved the sapphire. Lilith, seizing the opportunity, shifted the conversation to food.
Relieved, Uriah resumed his usual savvy demeanor, happily discussing local delicacies and magical cuisine with charm and flair.
Meanwhile, Quirrell leaned in toward Moriarty and whispered, "At first, I assumed this was merely a romantic trip. But now I see—Professor Dumbledore sent you here on official business, didn't he?"
"Investigate?" Moriarty replied coolly, not confirming anything. "Is there something in Athens that demands investigation?"
Quirrell pondered a moment before replying, "Only the increasing presence of vampires roaming the streets."
That made Moriarty recall the vampires he had encountered back in Diagon Alley. Perhaps they were becoming more active across the continent—possibly even in Britain.
The four continued conversing in the cozy glow of Shengbo Saran until dusk without interruption. Eventually, hunger reminded them it was time to return to the Simburg Hotel.
The hotel resembled a classical Greek temple from the outside but boasted modern wizarding luxury within. A tall reception counter stood directly opposite the entrance.
Quirrell, who had checked in earlier, resided in Room 406 on the fourth floor. He requested his dinner be sent to his room and promptly took his leave.
Now it was Moriarty and Lilith's turn. However, they had yet to book a room.
While Moriarty skimmed through the enchanted menu, Lilith sauntered up to the counter. On tiptoe, she placed twenty gleaming gold Galleons before Uncle Uriah and subtly raised a single finger.
Uriah smoothly pocketed the coins, smiling knowingly. He turned to Moriarty and said with mock regret, "Sir, what a pity. Only one room remains—on the seventh floor."
"Huh?" Lilith blinked innocently at Moriarty. "Shall we not stay? But it's already dark outside…"
"No other rooms?" she asked sweetly.
"Not a single one. Had I known, I'd have kept another room for you. Alas." Uriah concealed his satisfaction behind a look of exaggerated disappointment.
"We'll take it," Moriarty said simply. "Room number? Cost? We'll stay for five days."
Uriah waved dismissively. "The value of that ruby you previously showed far exceeds anything in this hotel. You are now a VIP! Everything is free for you. Room 777. I'll have your meals delivered personally."
As they headed toward Room 777, Lilith chuckled gleefully, "Uncle Uriah is quite the character, isn't he?"
"Indeed," Moriarty replied, uncharacteristically complimentary. "His speech is sweet, his mind is sharp like a true merchant, but he's trustworthy and discreet."
Moriarty was already thinking ahead—perhaps Lockhart and Mr. Flint could open a business in Athens. And Uriah? A potentially valuable partner.
Once inside the spacious room, Lilith threw herself onto the grand bed, heart racing. She wished they could skip dinner, skip washing up, and just melt into sleep.
But then Moriarty pulled out a small pouch and from it, a magical tent.
To Lilith's astonishment, the tiny tent expanded rapidly, transforming into a small manor—complete with furnishings. Luckily, the room was large enough to accommodate it.
"That's a Quidditch World Cup tent!" she exclaimed. "With an Undetectable Extension Charm! Only families use those… why do you have—?"
"Luke bought it for me in Diagon Alley. It's the smallest model," Moriarty replied nonchalantly. "Why? To live in, of course. Did a vampire nibble your brain?"
"Ahhhh—Moriarty!" Lilith shrieked, flinging a pillow at him. Her hair tumbled loose as she laughed. "You totally did that on purpose!"
"The number seven holds powerful significance in Greek magic," Moriarty said seriously, dodging the pillow. "I figured Room 777 might attract… interesting events."
"Like what?"
"Oh, I don't know… perhaps a vampire attack in the middle of the night to drain a young witch's blood?"
"Are you telling dirty jokes now, Mr. Moriarty?" Lilith asked coyly, sitting up. "Or should we expect the seductive Mrs. Kewa to sneak in and drain some innocent wizard dry?"
"Sister Gemma is the only one who can compete with you in that department," Moriarty muttered, remembering the system's punishment and wisely dropping the subject. He banished the peacocks from the tent. "You mentioned the Quidditch World Cup? Jericho brought it up at the castle party. Next year, right?"
"Right! It's held every four years, and next year is 1990. It'll be in Canada," Lilith said, smiling as the decorative peacocks strutted by. "Whenever there's a match, the Malfoys bring their peacock tent. I bet they'll flaunt it again next year."
"Pretentious pure-bloods," Moriarty scoffed. "I'll throw this tent out when we return. Malfoy's taste is too gaudy. Luke probably bought every design available."
"I knew your style had taken a strange turn. Are we going together next year?"
"Canada's close to the U.S. Jericho will likely invite me to join his family," Moriarty answered, ducking into the tent. "If I have the time, I'll visit the States first."
"Always chasing excitement," Lilith sighed theatrically.
Moments later, Uriah arrived with dinner—kebabs, Greek cheeses, ocean-fresh fish, enchanted salads…
Moriarty tasted the fish and commented dryly, "Luke's seafood feast still has better seasoning."
Lilith didn't reply, but she ate cheerfully.
Dabbing her lips with a napkin, she said, "Quirrell's not bad. Think you'll recruit him?"
Moriarty gave her a look. She sat poised, exuding the grace of a queen again.
"It's just the two of us here," Lilith added, raising a brow. "You won't share even a sliver of your true thoughts? Fine, but don't blame me later."
"I want Quirrell," she declared. "He's half-blood, but still respected among wizarding families."
"Exactly your type. But Quirrell isn't the sort to serve another," Moriarty said, sighing. "Still… I must prevent him from going to Albania."
Tie him up? Saw off his legs?
"What are you plotting, Moriarty?" Lilith asked sweetly.
"Thinking about Quidditch," he answered, retreating into the tent.
Lilith opened a book, but her eyes drifted. She glanced at the tent and sighed.
Sharing a room, and he's thinking about Quidditch?
Merlin's beard… Am I not attractive?
She thought of Mrs. Kewa's seductive curves… Tonks' radiant grin… Sister Gemma's shameless jokes… Penelope's gentle shyness…
Still, she was ahead of them all for now.
Summer had just begun. Time was on her side. Lilith clenched her fists with determination.
Neither she nor Moriarty noticed the dark silhouettes creeping outside the Simburg Hotel. The figures peered into the lit room, unmoving. Only when Lilith turned off the lights did they slip silently into the shadows.
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