The Heron and the Clam

"You dare—"

Many stories had endings that could be predicted from the very beginning. An enraged howl suddenly rang out through the gloomy underground world, shrill enough to rival a werewolf's roar at the sight of a full moon.

"Toy with—"

Three seconds after taking the Draught of Living Death, the old wizard slammed his hand on the table and sprang to his feet. The dense pustules and scabs atop his head rapidly turned from red to purple, then from purple to black. Immediately afterward, they began to boil like a potion nearing completion. The fleshy growths on his face grew excited as well, writhing madly as they rapidly expanded, seemingly unable to wait to tear free from the old wizard's face.

"Great—"

The old wizard was beside himself with rage. The rise and fall of his voice made his fury abundantly clear. He raised a short, thick cane topped with a gemstone high into the air, apparently intending to strike the person who had deceived him with a vicious curse.

Unfortunately, he seemed to have forgotten that his current condition had already rendered his violent, evil magic uncontrollable. Attempting to cast a spell only pushed his chaotic magic further out of control. Like a wax figure held over an open flame, he began melting from the crown of his head, the dissolution swiftly spreading throughout his body.

In the blink of an eye, the living man from moments ago had become a pool of black pus on the floor!

"My apologies, great... what?"

The skinny man who had made the deal with the old wizard let out an odd, cold laugh. He snatched up the Mithril from the table and stuffed it into his robes, then walked over to the puddle of pus and examined it for a few moments. He pulled the old wizard's remaining wand from within it and carefully inspected the ruby at its tip beneath the light of the floating torches.

Even through that layer of black cloth, Amosta could sense the smugness on his face.

The skinny man noticed the gaze upon him. He turned toward Amosta with an unfriendly expression, apparently thinking Amosta intended to rob him, and threatened in a low voice, "In a place like this, greed and excessive curiosity can get you killed at any time, Golden Viper. Don't think tearing apart a few big guard dogs means everyone will fear you—"

Amosta gave a disdainful smile. Lowering his head, he stared deeply at the puddle of liquid. After a long moment, an aged, hoarse voice came from beneath his hood.

"Thank you for the reminder, Mr. Swindler, but you seem to have forgotten something. Besides greed and curiosity, carelessness can be just as fatal."

"What?"

At the instant the skinny man froze in confusion, a black phantom with scarlet eyes suddenly rose from the puddle of pus. Resembling the Grim Reaper, it floated in midair and unleashed a shrill roar at the skinny man.

"Embrace death with me, you shameless wretch!"

The phantom in the air was beyond the skinny man's comprehension. He had no thought of fighting it at all and turned to flee, but unfortunately, every inch of the underground world was bound by an Anti-Apparition Charm, while the nearest fireplace was at least half a mile away.

Before the skinny man could even run beyond the low wall, the enormous, Grim Reaper-like phantom had caught up to him. It plunged down from the air, opened its bloody maw full of sharp teeth, and instantly swallowed both the skinny man's body and his screams!

Crunch, crunch, crunch—

The sickening sound of chewing rang clearly in their ears. Blood mixed with white bone fragments and brain matter streamed down to the floor like a brook, and the thick, fetid stench of blood made Amosta frown inwardly.

The old wizard's Death God form was merely a final struggle before death and could not remain in the world for long.

Having settled the grudge of his own murder, the phantom rapidly faded. Before vanishing completely, it turned and fixed Amosta with a hateful stare, its hoarse voice filled with resentment.

"You knew that thing was fake, yet you didn't warn me!"

"Why do you blame others for your own stupidity?"

Amosta said coldly, "You'd better disappear quickly before I develop an interest in your current form. Otherwise, I wouldn't mind keeping you in a glass bottle for a few decades before sending you to hell."

Unable to refute Amosta's words, the phantom sighed helplessly. After looking around one last time with deep longing, its figure faded away completely and strode into death.

Some of the people nearby had noticed the commotion, but not a single one found what had happened surprising, nor did anyone wish to come closer and ask about the details. Just as the skinny wizard had said, in this lawless place, excessive curiosity could get you killed at any time.

A streak of silver light cut through the dark air. Amosta summoned the Mithril, now covered in teeth marks, from the mangled flesh, cleaned it thoroughly, and tucked it into his robes without a care in the world, in exceptionally high spirits.

After a crisp snap of his fingers, golden magical flames sprang up from the old wizard's puddle of pus and the skinny man's pulverized flesh. In only a few breaths, the flames cleansed the filthy floor and erased every last trace the two men had left in this world.

If you took someone's things, you had to help them handle the aftermath. That was called public spirit.

"Looks like I missed quite a show, Mr. Golden Viper?"

Amosta turned toward the source of the voice. A middle-aged wizard with blond hair, black eyes, and a mild appearance stood beneath a towering notice board, smiling at him.

"Perhaps you were fortunate enough to avoid some trouble."

Amosta nodded in acknowledgment, his tone indifferent.

The newcomer was named Cacus Fley, a moderately well-known broker in the underground world. He came from the Foley family, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

This family had once enjoyed great prestige in the wizarding world. At the height of its glory, the head of the family had even served as Minister for Magic, making them one of the undisputed families of power and influence.

Unfortunately, Hector Foley, the Foley family member serving as Minister for Magic at the time, lacked strategic vision beyond immediate reality. He ignored Albus Dumbledore's warning and disastrously underestimated the damage that Gellert Grindelwald, the First Dark Lord at the height of his power, would inflict upon the British wizarding world and indeed the entire wizarding world of Europe. As a result, he was driven from office by enraged wizards.

The Foley family, stripped of the protection afforded by power, suffered a devastating blow as well and gradually vanished from the British wizarding world.

For two or three generations, the declining Foley family had been searching for some way to return to center stage. They tried many methods, yet always failed, because at the end of every path stood a figure that no one in the current era could possibly overcome.

In truth, Albus Dumbledore had never targeted the fallen Foley family. However, people in the wizarding world had not forgotten that it was Hector's disregard for Dumbledore's warning that had led to the British wizarding world suffering such grievous casualties in its later struggle against Grindelwald.

Fifty years had passed, and people's anger toward the Foley family had gradually faded away. Yet Albus Dumbledore was still alive!

Those currently in power at the Ministry of Magic had always treated the centenarian at Hogwarts with utmost caution. There was no need for them to risk angering the greatest wizard of the age over a speck of dust that should long ago have been buried in the river of history.

In the end, left with no other choice, the Foley family decided to embrace the shadows.

They sent out the most promising among the few younger members of the family, willing to show his face and risk retaliation as he operated in the underground world. He worked to accumulate wealth and connections, quietly waiting for the chance to return to the world of light.