Chapter 17: Ravenclaw's Dregs
Having obtained the Pensieve, Lockhart continued towards the darkest corner of Knockturn Alley. He was going to meet a dangerous individual.
—Mundungus Fletcher, a dealer in wizarding goods.
This dangerous character was so different from Mr. Borgin. He had no bottom line in his dealings, and could easily be described as a rat from a dark, stinking gutter.
If Mr. Borgin still held onto some pride as a member of the "Sacred Twenty-Eight" pure-blood families and wanted to maintain his influence among dark wizards by not going too far, then Mundungus, this scum who mixed in the lower levels, would truly stop at nothing.
Dark wizards even circulated a humorous anecdote during afternoon tea: someone went to Mundungus to buy stolen goods, only to have Mundungus casually steal something from them during the transaction and sell it to someone else.
It was said, "Dragons travel dragon paths, rats travel rat paths, snakes have snake paths." Mundungus also had his own survival wisdom.
He was a well-informed individual who mixed in the lower levels of the wizarding world and also handled many high-end black market goods.
For example, Felix Felicis, which Lockhart couldn't buy from Mr. Borgin, was something this guy could get his hands on.
The preparation of Felix Felicis wasn't actually difficult. Although the process was complex and could even take half a year to brew, any potioneer who had mastered the basics of potion-making could prepare it.
The only requirement for successfully brewing this luck potion was that the potioneer themselves also needed to be a lucky person.
Without delving into how the elusive luck worked, just saying that nothing unexpected happened during the six months of brewing this potion was already a very lucky thing.
So Felix Felicis was rare and very expensive.
All the way, Lockhart was stared at by various unfriendly and strangely grinning gazes. He finally arrived at Mundungus's temporary lodging.
He walked up the narrow stairs littered with garbage and the stench of foul fertilizer, pushed open a creaking small wooden door, and the tall Lockhart had to bend down to walk through the low doorway.
Clang~~~
Stepping on an empty wine bottle on the ground almost made Lockhart fall flat on his face. He staggered a few steps and grabbed onto an iron cage. A pair of large purple eyes suddenly opened in the iron cage piled with messy things above.
"!!!"
Lockhart blinked and looked closely, realizing that a dragon with an iron muzzle was chained up in the cage.
A Hebridean Black, it seemed to be an adolescent.
It was currently trembling in fear of the little golden retriever that had crawled out of Lockhart's wizard robe pocket and was excitedly looking at its purple dragon eyes.
"Gilderoy Lockhart~~~" A voice drawled, hoarse with a hangover, full of mockery, "My old classmate, you've finally arrived."
Lockhart looked in the direction of the voice. A short, fat man with a stubbly beard was sprawled on a dilapidated single sofa with several cracks in the corner. Seeing him look over, he raised the wine bottle in his hand as a greeting and continued to drink on his own.
"I'm so disguised, and you can still recognize me?"
Lockhart cursed the rat's sharp eyes silently, took off his mask and lowered his wizard robe hood as a sign of respect, revealing his standard perfect smile. "Hey, long time no see, Mundungus Fletcher."
Mundungus stood up, rubbed his messy hair, and took out a box of cigars from the dirty pocket of his dressing gown. He pulled one out and gestured to Lockhart, "Want one?"
Lockhart shook his head and chuckled. "I don't want to faint after smoking and wake up naked in the sewers of Knockturn Alley."
"Oh, you scum have no right to talk about me. At least I only steal money." Mundungus's voice was full of mockery.
Lockhart's eyes narrowed, realizing that this guy might have noticed something, but he just pretended not to understand. Watching him subconsciously rub his waist and rummage for a lighter, he chuckled, "I heard you got beaten up by Moody again?"
Mundungus snorted coldly, put the cigar in his mouth and lit it, waiting a long time before it finally caught fire. He took a deep puff of smoke and then coughed violently.
"The top-grade Fire-Dormant Weed cigar from the American Wizarding Cigar Association is really potent!"
He exclaimed, then cursed with a sour face, "Mad-Eye Moody! That guy has always had it in for me!"
Lockhart looked around the dimly lit room, couldn't find a clean place to sit, so he folded his arms and leaned against the cage holding the dragon. "I heard you were peddling contraband at the alumni reunion again, that's why you got Moody's righteous fist."
Mundungus looked very unhappy. "That damn Gryffindor shouldn't even show up at our Ravenclaw alumni reunion!"
"Come on, without Moody, our Muggle-Loving Ravenclaw alumni reunion would have fallen apart long ago."
Lockhart looked at the casually piled items next to him, not caring. These seemed to be items moved from some mansion, exquisite enamel plates and cabinets in the same artistic style. God knows where they came from.
Mundungus didn't want to talk too much about Moody. He told Lockhart to wait a moment and began rummaging through the messy pile of goods.
In fact, the relationship between Mundungus, this rat from the gutter, and the Auror bigwig Moody wasn't just at the Muggle-Loving Ravenclaw alumni reunion. These two were also initial members of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix.
Yes!
Mundungus was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, the kind who was extremely loyal to Dumbledore.
But he was only loyal to Dumbledore. In the original story, he shamelessly cleared out all the valuables in Sirius Black's house when his Order comrade Sirius died, including one of Voldemort's Horcruxes—the locket—which Sirius's brother Regulus had obtained at the cost of his life.
Lockhart suspected that the reason Dumbledore in the original story sensed that he was a memory thief was because of the information provided by this sharp-eyed Mundungus.
Under the dim light, Lockhart's gaze also became somewhat obscure. He reached into his wizard robe pocket and stroked the little golden retriever's head, staring at Mundungus's back.
"If you're thinking of hitting me in the back of the head, I suggest you wait until I'm drunk." Mundungus turned around, the cigar in his mouth, and staggered closer, stuffing a small glass bottle into Lockhart's hand.
Lockhart rolled his eyes. "You always think of people too darkly. I'm a person who lives in the light. I don't do such things!"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Mundungus exhaled smoke, a pair of sharp eyes in the thick smoke full of strangeness. "You're a professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry now. I wouldn't be surprised if you become a high-ranking official in the Ministry of Magic someday."
Lockhart ignored his ambiguous words and carefully examined the Felix Felicis in his hand.
Felix Felicis was usually stored in thumb-sized, inverted teardrop-shaped small glass bottles. This wasn't just a packaging issue; the unique shape allowed for better observation of the potion's state.
He held up the Felix Felicis to the dim light hanging from the ceiling, looking at the state of the twisted, brilliantly glowing potion in the bottle. Then he drew his wand, held it against the potion bottle, feeling the magical rhythm extending through the wand, and nodded.
"No problem, right?" Mundungus, with the cigar in his mouth, stared straight at him. "I paid a big price to get this!"
"Come on," Lockhart scoffed. "Who knows where you 'stocked up' and just grabbed it on the way. This stuff is already very expensive, don't expect to add value to it."
Felix Felicis had a certain "market price." The demand for this potion among dark wizards was not small.
Especially some dark wizards who didn't come from academic backgrounds or who hadn't learned their craft well during their school years liked to drink some of this when brewing important potions or making dark magic items.
With more transactions, there was a customary price.
Lockhart took out a bulging bag of Galleons and threw it over. "Count it."
Mundungus weighed it and directly stuffed it into his dressing gown pocket. "The amount is correct."
Since he was already here, Lockhart simply continued to place an order with Mundungus. "Keep an eye out for dark magical creatures for me."
"Oh! No way!" Mundungus was so startled that he choked, coughed for a long time, and frowned deeply. "I can even find Minister Fudge's underwear for you if you want, but dark magical creatures? Buddy, I don't want to touch those terrifying things!"
Dark magical creatures were less like creatures and more like "a phenomenon."
Phenomena were not creatures, they were immortal and indestructible. Without professional techniques, even the most powerful wizards couldn't gain any advantage.
Common dark magical creatures were okay, like Boggarts, the Hogwarts castle poltergeist Peeves, and the Azkaban Dementors.
But as soon as you delved a little deeper into this area, the things you encountered were extremely terrifying.
In fact, if the academic faction hadn't included the dark magical creature Boggart in the compulsory teaching curriculum, it was estimated that most wizards in the wizarding world would be helpless in the face of such terrifying creatures.
"Information. I want information about dark magical creatures. I don't expect you to bring me a dark magical creature." Lockhart looked at his expression and curled his lip.
"Oh, information, that's fine. That's my area of expertise." Mundungus breathed a sigh of relief, complaining, "You're not content being a relaxed bestselling author and a respected professor sitting in a spacious and bright office. You run off to study such terrifying things. You're just asking for trouble."
"Is there a possibility..."
Lockhart shrugged. "That my area of writing and teaching is the field of dark magical creatures? Mundungus, read more books! You're a Ravenclaw, after all."
Mundungus chuckled. "Ravenclaw? Ravenclaw produces scum, my old friend."
Although it wasn't nice to say, it had almost become a common perception that Ravenclaw produced all sorts of people who went astray in various professional fields, just like Slytherin produced dark wizards and schemers, and Gryffindor produced Aurors and reckless warriors, full of stereotypes.
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