The Wayne Family Has Another Visitor

Early Sunday morning,

five thirty.

A particularly eerie figure appeared on Oxford Street.

He stood beside a streetlamp outside No. 139, the corners of his mouth beneath his cloak nearly stretching to his ears.

A deposit of 300 Galleons, and another 700 after the job was done.

Employers this generous were rare.

What had Wayne done this time?

Give them a good scare, take some pictures, then hit each of them with a Memory Charm before leaving.

Who knew what he might have done.

He drew his wand, crossed the lawn, and lightly pointed it at the intricately designed doorknob.

No challenge at all.

The biggest Muggle arms dealer in all of Europe?

Nothing special!

As if he had returned to his own home, he casually took the firearms off the wall and fiddled with them.

Black, hard, and ugly. Throwing it would probably be faster than pulling whatever the hell that trigger was.

"Does it look good?"

"Too ugly. No sense of beauty at all."

His right hand, just about to hang the gun back on the wall, suddenly froze.

Eric Wayne, former captain of a Muggle special forces unit, built like a troll.

He drew his wand quickly, but his opponent was no slower.

A heavy blow suddenly struck the back of his head, and the next second, he crumpled helplessly to the floor.

Sam's wide eyes blinked several times in succession.

He held the wand backward and knocked him out with one hard smack?

He had not even seen him.

"Ptooey—what an amateur."

After spitting, he tied the man up with a white curtain.

After getting up and washing up, Evelyn went into the first-floor kitchen as usual to prepare breakfast.

She opened the toast she had bought yesterday, spread butter over each slice, and put them