"Is this pointing to the location of Nurmengard?" Morris asked.
Mundungus Fletcher nodded hurriedly.
"Are you sure?" Morris asked again, staring into the other's eyes.
Mundungus Fletcher instinctively looked away and said weakly, "I'm sure."
Morris sighed inwardly.
This doesn't seem very reliable.
Fine, I'll just have to believe it for now.
If there are any real problems, we can settle the score later.
Morris said, "Tell me everything you know about Nurmengard. That shouldn't be too difficult, right? After all, I paid you almost two hundred gold."
Before he could finish speaking, Mundungus Fletcher suddenly leaned forward and grabbed his arm. "Keep your voice down, someone's watching us."
"Um?
Morris turned his head to the side.
In another corner, the old wizards who had been playing cards earlier were glancing this way.
The moment he looked over, the old man quickly looked away and shouted, "You lost!"
The other two old men muttered something in unison, and coins rolled around on the table.
They acted quite convincingly.
"See," Mundungus Fletcher whispered, "They've got your eye on you. But don't worry, I'm watching. They didn't hear anything before."
Morris had a pretty good idea of the reason; it was probably because he had raised his voice a bit when he mentioned two hundred Galleon.
This amount of money is indeed not small.
but...
"It's alright." Morris shrugged.
With his power and influence, he could be capricious.
To be honest, he was even somewhat looking forward to those guys coming to rob him.
At least it can make this boring afternoon a little more fun.
Seeing this, Mundungus Fletcher said no more. Since the other party didn't care, he didn't care either.
Anyway, now that we've got the money, the other party can do whatever they want.
Morris got up and went to the bar to get another Butterbeer.
Upon returning, he said to Mundungus Fletcher, "Let's continue our previous conversation. Tell me about Nurmengard."
Mundungus Fletcher scratched his head. "I don't know much about Nurmengard. I only know that Grindelwald was imprisoned there. As for the map, I bought it from a grocer many years ago."
"It wasn't stolen?" Morris asked.
Mundungus Fletcher's expression froze.
"How could I possibly steal anything?" he said righteously, but his argument was completely unconvincing.
At this point, Morris was fairly certain that the map was of dubious origin.
But it doesn't matter.
As long as it works, its origin doesn't matter.
As the two were talking, Morris suddenly felt a gaze fall on him.
The owner behind the bar had opened his eyes at some point and was staring straight at him.
Oh, no, it was staring at Mundungus Fletcher Fletcher next to him.
Mundungus Fletcher seemed to realize something and turned his head away so that the other person could not see his face.
He was intentionally avoiding the other person.
Just as Morris was about to ask what was going on, the boss suddenly strode up to them.
"What's wrong?" Morris asked, puzzled.
The boss didn't look at him, but instead shouted loudly to Mundungus Fletcher, " Mundungus Fletcher Fletcher, is that you?"
Mundungus Fletcher turned his head and forced a smile. "You've mistaken me for someone else, Aberforth."
"Don't try to deny it!" Aberforth said menacingly. "I've always remembered your face. I warned you twenty years ago never to set foot in my bar."
Mundungus Fletcher was somewhat helpless.
Damn it, Merlin, it's been twenty years, are we still going to nitpick?
Morris immediately became a curious onlooker and asked, "What happened between you two?"
"What could possibly happen to a petty thief?" Aberforth scoffed. "Get out of here!"
He picked up his wand and stepped forward, seemingly about to make a move.
"What a grumpy old man," Morris thought.
When Aberforth's wand lit up, Mundungus Fletcher sprang to his feet. "I'm leaving right now!"
He slowly moved towards the door. " Black, if you have any questions or need any other services, you can contact Frick; he knows my address, or you can simply mail me a letter..."
Before the words were even finished, the person had already disappeared outside the door.
He seemed terrified of the shop owner.
However, Morris didn't chase after them; he had already gotten what he needed.
"*&*%#!"
Aberforth stared at the doorway and cursed.
"Good thing he got away fast." He put away his wand, glanced down at Morris was still sitting in his seat, and said, "Don't bring that kind of person into my bar next time."
"I didn't know he was on your blacklist, boss," Morris said.
Aberforth snorted again, turned and walked towards the bar, then stopped after a couple of steps. "This bar is off-limits to all thieves. Also, you haven't paid for your second Butterbeer."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
After Morris paid, Aberforth suddenly spoke up, "What were you two talking about? I think I heard Grindelwald?"
"Don't worry about it," Morris waved his hand dismissively. "It was just a casual chat, none of your business. Besides, eavesdropping isn't a good habit."
A hint of embarrassment flashed across Aberforth's face.
This behavior is indeed inappropriate.
But Grindelwald... he couldn't possibly be indifferent to that name.
"I didn't hear much," Aberforth persisted, "So? What happened to Grindelwald?"
Morris gave a perfunctory reply, then pushed open the door and walked out.
He had no reason to explain too much to a stranger, who wasn't even his professor.
After leaving the Hog's Head, Morris wandered around Hogsmeade and eventually came to the Three Broomsticks.
Because it was a visiting day, there were a lot of students inside.
As Morris was about to find a seat, he suddenly caught sight of a familiar figure.
It was Mundungus Fletcher Fletcher, who had just been kicked out of the Hog's Head.
That guy's quick on his feet. He came out of the Hog's Head and in the blink of an eye was Three Broomsticks, even changing into a presentable outfit—probably for Madam Rosmerta, who knows?
Morris walked over and patted the other person on the shoulder.
Mundungus Fletcher looked away from Madam Rosmerta.
"Oh, it's you, Black."
He said, somewhat surprised, "Haven't you had enough Butterbeer at Hog's Head?"
"No," Morris sat down next to the other person, "Are you afraid of the owner of Hog's Head?"
"Scared?" Mundungus Fletcher clicked his tongue. "If others don't like me, there's nothing I can do. Oh, by the way, this is my friend, Castor, the antique dealer."
As he spoke, he stepped aside, revealing a thin man behind him.
The man looked up, met Morris's eyes, and forced a dry smile.
Indeed, birds of a feather flock together.
This person seems to share the same traits as Mundungus Fletcher.