Goblins Hall

Dealing with Goblins isn't actually that difficult; they dislike roundabout approaches and prefer you get straight to the point about the potential profits.

As the largest bookmaker in the global wizarding world, Goblins Hall certainly has the capability to tamper with thousands of Magical Base Stations simultaneously.

British fans are less enthusiastic about the World Cup due to the Dark Mark, but compared to the rest of Europe, or even the world, the British Isles are insignificant.

Taber is quite interested in Bagman's new plan.

This is a sure-fire, no-risk deal; how could a race as inherently greedy as the Goblins refuse?

However, the previously agreed-upon profit distribution needs some adjustments.

Just providing Wayne Enterprises' maintenance manual shouldn't entitle them to half the profits.

After round after round of haggling, Bagman finally relented, agreeing to a 30/70 split.

Taber looked pained. "Ludo, don't say I'm being unfair. Thirty percent is the best we can offer."

Bagman cursed inwardly.

They wanted a 90/10 split when they first started talking. If he hadn't argued his case, how could this greedy Goblin have offered any "sincerity"?

But on the surface, he was polite. "Curator Taber, I'm satisfied with thirty percent."

With so many fans in the global wizarding world, plus those old gamblers, even a small profit could pay off his debts.

The two parties re-signed the magical contract, and Bagman handed over Wayne Enterprises' maintenance manual to Taber.

"Don't act prematurely and ruin the plan. I tested the waters a bit during the day, and their efficiency is very high."

Taber chuckled dismissively. "You mean Wayne? He's certainly skilled in alchemy, but he's still just a child."

Bagman snorted. "You'd better not underestimate him. I got some information from the Ministry; he was using a Time-Turner until this summer."

Taber recalled the previous news reports; the front-page photos certainly didn't look like a 15-year-old.

Remembering how badly the old pure-bloods lost at Wizard Cards, it immediately dropped its disdainful expression.

"Ludo, I'll notify the other branches to pay more attention."

Seeing it start to take things seriously, Bagman didn't say much more, got up, and left Goblins Hall alone.

After he left, Fedi, wearing ornate armor, came to Taber's side. "Curator, do you really trust that gambling addict Ludo?"

Taber shook its head. "I never trust him; I trust human nature."

Fedi looked blank. "Human nature? Isn't that a Muggle thing?"

Taber's smile was full of sarcasm. "Muggles still have many merits; how would those short-sighted wizards understand?"

Human nature is quite complex; even humans haven't figured it out, let alone Goblins.

But with a little research, you can understand the pathological psychology of a gambler like Bagman.

To win, to turn things around, he'll definitely use any means necessary.

Fedi nodded, seemingly understanding. "Curator, our cooperation with him will definitely offend Vincent Wayne. We have to consider the potential impact in advance."

The smile on Taber's face instantly turned cold. "Offend? When did we offend Wayne?"

Fedi was stunned, then grinned. "Right, everything was instigated by Bagman; we're innocent."

From ancient times, alchemists have been one of the professions you least want to offend in the wizarding world.

They can easily create all kinds of magical and fantastic alchemical items, especially the top tier ones. Offending them not only means offending countless wizards who seek their help, but also countless magical races.

Wayne Enterprises can broadcast the World Cup globally, so its relationship with the magical governments of various countries must be good.

And Vincent Wayne, who leads it, is a promising young wizard. If he were just a child, there wouldn't be much to worry about.

But according to Bagman's information, who knows how much time he's added with the Time-Turner?

At 11, he could go head-to-head with a Dark wizard professor; at 12, he tamed a thousand-year-old Basilisk; at 13, he even played a group of pure-blood old men for fools; at 14, he even personally caught Death Eaters who had disappeared for more than a decade.

Now, who knows how much he's grown? Goblins, who excel at calculation, certainly don't want to offend him.

Eggplant Restaurant, Vincent, who was having a candlelit dinner with Hermione, suddenly sneezed.

And it didn't stop there; he sneezed three times in a row.

One sneeze means someone's thinking about you, two means someone's talking behind your back, and three means you've caught a cold.

Vincent took the napkin Hermione handed him. "That's strange; I don't feel cold."

His constitution has been excellent since he was a child. The last time he caught a cold was when he was building a snowman in the dead of winter, shirtless, back in elementary school.

Come to think of it, that was almost 10 years ago.

Hermione muttered softly, "Professor Dumbledore seems to have said that he hasn't been sick in over half a century..."

Vincent carefully folded the used napkin and placed it aside. "No need to guess; someone's definitely plotting against me."

"Ah?" Hermione thought about it and realized it was quite possible.

It wasn't that she was superstitious, but magic was simply too miraculous.

For example, a life debt. When a wizard saves another wizard's life, the saved wizard owes the savior a life debt.

The special connection established between the two would unconsciously drive the indebted wizard to repay the life debt. Even if they were enemies, this connection would arise regardless of whether the person wanted it or not.

Vincent was already a natural Occlumency master, so perhaps he would be more sensitive to malice than ordinary wizards.

Hermione frowned. "Don't you think it's too much of a coincidence that the Ministry of Magic and the stadium's magical projections malfunctioned at the same time today?"

They were all products of automated assembly lines. If they were in different regions, it would be understandable, but the probability of simultaneous malfunctions domestically was almost impossible.

"It is indeed too coincidental." Vincent glanced at the time on his Magical Communicator.

It was 8:30 PM, Fanny and Bo Ye should still be at the stadium repairing the equipment.

He gently smoothed Hermione's furrowed brow. "Let's go take a look after we eat."

"Okay."

Twenty minutes later, the two appeared at the stadium in Dartmoor.

Bo Ye was indeed still repairing the last magical projection, while Fanny was sitting to the side, gleefully clutching a Viktor Krum signed poster.

Vincent twitched his lips and quietly approached Fanny from behind.

"What are you doing?"

Fanny jumped, so startled that he threw the poster in his arms into the air.

When he turned around and saw his chairman, the poster had already been caught by the other party.

"Slacking off on the job?" Vincent returned the poster to him. "Don't let it happen again."

Fanny felt a stinging in his nose.

Back in Knockturn Alley, they in Fallen Paradise had all lived in fear.

Either worrying about persecution from competitors or fearing enemies coming to their door.

His eyes reddened as he hugged the poster tightly. "Chairman, I..."

"Don't." Vincent took a step back. "I'm not buying it."

Fanny sniffled dramatically. "I spent so long building up to this, can't you cooperate a little, Chairman?"

Vincent glared at him good-naturedly. "If you want to be sentimental, go find Abraham and the others. I don't have time to humor you right now."

Fanny pouted and put away the poster.

But he quickly perked up again. "Chairman, why did you suddenly come over?"

"I need to confirm something."

"Confirm what?"

"Confirm whether the malfunctions that occurred this time were really just a coincidence."