"Galleons have been getting harder and harder to earn lately."
Gazing at the desolate Diagon Alley, Mundungus gloomily snapped shut his suitcase. After greeting several fellow traders nearby, he packed up his stall and prepared to head home.
Ever since the Ministry of Magic had implemented that damned shelter policy, many family members of Ministry employees had hidden away in the shelters. Diagon Alley, already quiet enough, had become nearly devoid of wizards.
Even the number of street vendors had dwindled, because there simply were no Galleons to be made.
Mundungus was one of the victims.
When he had first heard that many people at the Ministry intended to hide in the shelters, Mundungus had been delighted. But after visiting several households that had moved into the Ministry shelters, his expression had immediately fallen. There was nothing worthwhile there—just a pile of useless junk, a complete waste of his precious time.
And ever since then, there had been fewer people in Diagon Alley, making business difficult as well.
Lately, he had been thinking of other ways to make money.
He wondered how the Weasley Twins were doing. Did they still need him to help smuggle other things?
Just as Mundungus was pondering how to earn a living, his hand froze as he pushed open the door, his eyes narrowing at once.
Someone had broken into his home.
At the very least, Mundungus did not remember subscribing to the Daily Prophet. Besides, he could always pick up a copy on the street or in a pub.
His suitcase hit the floor with a bang.
Ignoring the suitcase, Mundungus had already drawn his wand and warily scanned his surroundings. Once he had confirmed there was no one else nearby, he immediately went to check the Galleons he had hidden away.
Only after