I Think We Came to the Wrong Place

I Think We Came to the Wrong Place

Dumbledore felt as if his throat were choked with a glob of aged phlegm.

As the most powerful white wizard in the wizarding society, he had not felt this way in a very long time.

He saw the shadow of a certain bald man of the past in Lyon.

Natural leadership, the unwavering belief in his own correctness no matter what he did, solving difficulties through his own methods, and a ruthless execution...

The more he looked, the more similar Lyon seemed.

"I have no right to stop you from bringing your... family members into the wizarding world, but I hope you abide by the laws of wizarding society."

"Very well, the items required for enrollment are already on the list. Do not miss the Hogwarts Express."

Hearing Dumbledore's words, Lyon nodded.

"Well, I will not disturb your affairs any further."

"By the way, after you enter Hogwarts, the Trace will be left upon you. It will detect you using magic outside of school. It is enough that you simply know this."

Dumbledore stood up as he spoke, his gaze carrying a profound meaning as he glanced at Lyon.

Lyon nodded, and the thirty-year-old man standing beside him understood, politely making a gesture inviting Dumbledore to leave.

Dumbledore departed.

Lyon sat in the specially elevated executive chair, and the room once again fell into silence.

Dumbledore seemed to know something, especially with that final mention of the Trace. He did not know why Dumbledore would tell him this.

He thought about it for a long time without a clue, so he simply stopped thinking about it.

He was about to enter the wizarding world.

He currently had over a thousand Razor Gang members under his command, but none of them possessed magical talent.

He had to arm the Razor Gang as soon as possible so that he could secure a foothold in the wizarding world. When that time came, he would be able to find those Death Eaters who murdered his father back then.

At this point in time, he remembered it was precisely when Harry Potter was at school, and also the eve of Voldemort's return.

"Mike."

"Boss, I'm here."

The thirty-year-old man who had been standing beside him had a fierce scar across his face. Hearing Lyon's voice, he wore a respectful expression and bowed slightly to reply.

"What is the frequency of our protection money collection now?"

"Once a day."

Lyon thought for a moment, standing before the window with a glass of red wine in his hand, gently swirling it.

"Starting tomorrow, change it to three times a day—morning, noon, and night. The amount must be doubled. The first ten shops to pay their protection money each day may pay twenty percent less."

"Uh..." Mike's expression was hesitant.

"We recently collected the breathing tax, the height tax, the dining tax, the street security tax, and so on. Furthermore, we have already collected the protection money for eighty years in the future..."

When Mike finished speaking, the room fell silent.

"Money is necessary if we want every member of the Razor Gang to be able to wield magic in the future." Lyon contemplated for two seconds. "Then collect the protection money for two hundred years in the future in advance."

"Yes."

The temperature in Birmingham in June was gradually beginning to grow hot, but most people in Birmingham felt uncomfortably cold.

A cold so poor they could not even afford clothes.

"Boss, here are five million pounds. It should be enough for your expenses in the wizarding world, Boss."

On the streets of London, Lyon was followed by over a dozen Razor Gang members dressed in identical dark-gray trench coats and retro British caps, with Lyon himself at the lead.

It was precisely Mike who had spoken just a moment ago.

Lyon glanced at the leather case in the other man's hand, nodded with satisfaction, and then looked across the street.

That was a large bookstore and a record shop.

After Lyon's gaze made contact, the space between the two shops suddenly seemed to tear apart, instantly revealing an unassuming building.

The Leaky Culdron.

The storefront looked extremely dilapidated, with an unkempt appearance, and Mike looked at the pub in shock.

"Boss, this is..."

The dozen or so Razor Gang members behind him were also speechless. Ever since they joined the Razor Gang, they had known that their boss, Lyon, would eventually become a wizard.

Seeing this scene today truly broadened their horizons.

Thinking of the promise their boss had once made them—that one day every member of the Razor Gang could possess magic—they could not help feeling somewhat stirred in their hearts.

Yet Lyon at the head walked toward the Leaky Cauldron without the slightest surprise.

His father had performed magic in front of him before, so these things amounted to very little.

The group walked up to the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron. Curiously, the surrounding pedestrians acted as if they could not see Lyon and his men at all.

Lyon roughly knew in his heart that a Muggle-Repelling Charm must have been cast here.

Just as his front foot stepped across the threshold of the Leaky Cauldron's entrance, a crisp voice suddenly echoed in his ear.

[Ding! The host has entered the Leaky Cauldron and activated the Faction Achievement System!]

Lyon's body came to an abrupt halt.

System?

Ten years, and the system only awakened now—it truly left Lyon somewhat speechless.

Although he wanted to open the system and take a look right this second, they were still inside the Leaky Cauldron, which was hardly convenient.

Many people around them were looking in his direction: a few witches wearing pointed wizard hats, and in the corner, a group of sharp-eared, sharp-faced goblins that looked just like the goblins from Lyon's impression in his previous life.

In front of the shop counter, a middle-aged man had also noticed this side and was walking toward them.

Lyon put away the thought of opening the system right now and looked at the approaching person.

"Mister, I am the manager here. You can call me Tom. May I ask which family the mister belongs to?"

This was the owner of the Leaky Cauldron from the original book, also decked out in wizard attire. Lyon and the others appeared entirely out of place here.

The surrounding wizards also cast somewhat fearful gazes at Lyon's group.

In their hearts, they had already concluded that Lyon and his party must belong to some pure-blood noble family.

After all, only nobles carried this kind of pomp.

Besides, the Malfoy family had brought their young master here this morning, and the display back then had not been nearly as grand as Lyon's entourage.

The Malfoy family was a fairly renowned family throughout the entire wizarding world. If even they did not have such a grand display when coming to the Leaky Cauldron, it meant Lyon's background was even greater than the Malfoy family's.

"The Shelby Family." Lyon ignored the surrounding gazes. "I am Lyon Shelby."

"You appear very gentlemanly, and you possess a great deal of aristocratic etiquette. Such polite nobles are not often seen anymore."

"But Mister, forgive my shallow vision, the Shelby Family is...?"

Old Tom repeated it in his heart, feeling that he could not recall the name, and a bit of respect faded from his mind.

In a short span of time, he had mentally ticked off the names of every wizard family he knew, yet try as he might, he could not remember where the Shelby Family hailed from.

Still, looking at the dozen or so young men behind Lyon wearing Muggle suits, one could tell at a glance that they were well-trained, vaguely taking Lyon as their head.

"It is normal that you do not know. We come from the Muggle world."

"The Muggle world?"

As Lyon spoke, Old Tom found it somewhat unbelievable. In his view, someone so polite simply had to be a wizard.

Other wizards sitting in the pub heard this and also looked somewhat incredulous, mainly because Lyon and his group had been exceptionally eye-catching the moment they walked into the Leaky Cauldron.

"Yes. Many people like to call us the Razor Gang."

Old Tom suddenly looked as though he had remembered something. "Why does the name Razor Gang sound so strangely familiar to me, yet I cannot place it..."

Lyon raised an eyebrow. He had originally thought these wizards had no intersection with the Muggle world, but judging from this, that did not seem to be the case.

Old Tom thought for a long time without remembering, figuring in his mind that Lyon must hail from some minor family, and the look of respect on his face relaxed.

Suddenly, the door of the Leaky Cauldron was pushed open once more.

Lyon turned his head. A family of three stood at the entrance.

A middle-aged couple accompanied a young girl of the same age as Lyon.

Wait...

Lyon suddenly felt this girl looked rather familiar.

He felt as though he had seen her somewhere before.

His brain worked rapidly, and suddenly, realization struck.

Was this not Hermione Granger!

One of the members of the original trio, the future Minister for Magic.

She looked almost identical to her film counterpart; her hair was somewhat bushy, and her chubby little face was rather cute.

"Mum, they said it's right here in the Leaky Cauldron."

As little Hermione and her parents stepped inside, they saw Lyon and the dozen or so people standing in the middle of the hall. Beneath identical gray gentleman's coats and British caps, pairs of eyes looked over...

In the year since the Razor Gang was established, they had experienced battles almost daily. This initial batch of men who followed Lyon could already be considered seasoned veterans, and their gazes unconsciously carried a murderous aura.

With over a dozen gazes staring down the three of them, the sense of oppression was naturally extreme.

"Hermione... I think we came to the wrong place."

Hermione's father turned red in the face, trembling slightly in his heart...

He recognized this attire.

He came from Birmingham, working as a dentist at a small hospital in Birmingham.

Who living in Birmingham dared not recognize this outfit?

This was the Razor Gang!