Chapter 1281 Vault
Vincent's gaze swept over Mr. Bokin's stiff face. "Let me describe that person, that creator. He may be lonely, or he may feel misunderstood by the mundane world."
He possessed a skill that, while not particularly profound, was unique enough to allow him to crudely combine primal emotions such as pain and fear with a certain material medium.
But he needed materials, special materials, not the cheap stuff you can find anywhere in Knockturn Alley. He needed something that could amplify pain. So he came here, to the most famous underground market for magical artifacts in London. He found you, or someone like you who acts as a conduit for such things.
Vincent turned to look at the strange items in the cabinet. “You, Karaktakus, you smelled the profit and you smelled the trouble. You sold the maker something, something you knew was of dubious origin and dangerous in effect, but which just happened to meet his needs.”
He leaned down slightly, examining the pulsating, unidentified organ in the shop window. "You tell yourself that this is just a transaction, one willing to give and the other willing to receive. You didn't ask the maker what they wanted to do, and you don't want to know."
Mr. Bokin's breathing became heavy, and more cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
“But now, here’s the problem.” Vincent straightened up, his tone turning cold. “His work started appearing in places he shouldn’t have. He caught my attention; he led me to Knockturn Alley, to your shop.”
He turned to look at Mr. Borgin's bloodless face. "The Ministry of Magic may not be able to find you here by following this curse, but I will definitely come again, and I will bring some friends with me, some friends you would never expect."
Friends? Who dares to call themselves friends with this new-age dark lord now? The Dementors who cooperate with him? Or the old shamans he rescued from the Erskinesky prison in Germany?
Mr. Bokin instinctively held his breath. Even though Vincent was far away, he felt as if an invisible hand was choking him.
The struggle on his face was gradually disappearing.
He was a businessman, and although he sold some rather "sensitive" goods, he had no choice but to tell the truth in order to avoid trouble as much as possible.
“He… that maker is very cautious.” Mr. Borgin pulled out a copy of a magically encrypted note from a hidden compartment in the lining of the counter drawer. “He only came twice, the first time to inquire, and the second time for the transaction, with payment made through the untraceable Gringotts temporary vault.”
Vincent raised his hand, and the note flew over automatically.
There are no names on it, only the names of the purchased items and the vault number used for payment.
It looks like I'll have to go to Gringotts on the 627th.
Vincent carefully put away the note. "What are his distinguishing features?"
Mr. Bokin hesitated for a moment, then said in a hoarse voice, "He was wearing a hood, was rather thin, had long, thin fingers, and was very clean. He didn't look like someone who did manual labor. When he paid, I noticed a scar on his neck, as if it had been burned by some kind of corrosive magic."
He paused for a moment, as if recalling the scene, "He gave me a cold and quiet feeling, unlike those loud and boisterous idiots."
“That’s enough.” Vincent noted down the details. “Remember, Karaktakus, I wasn’t here tonight, you didn’t see me, and you didn’t say a word to me. If your memory suddenly improves and you tell someone you shouldn’t…”
He glanced around at the obviously prohibited items in the shop, then his gaze settled on Mr. Bokin's face. "I assure you, something not so pleasant is going to happen in your lovely little shop."
He burned down the Minister of Magic's office with Fiendfyre, so what was Borgin-Bock Shop compared to that?
Only after the door closed and Vincent's figure disappeared did Mr. Bokin slump into his chair, breathing heavily.
He tightened his robe, realizing for the first time so clearly that the murky water he thought was so deep in Flip Lane was, in some people's eyes, just a shallow beach that could be stirred up at will, or even boiled.
……
……
As night fell, Gringotts’ bronze doors opened, and wizards came and went, some in a hurry, some with worried faces, and some with the joy of having acquired treasures.
Taking advantage of the guards' inattention, a dark figure quietly slipped inside.
The hall was as lively as ever, filled with the clinking of gold coins, the high-pitched, rapid voices of fairies, and the chatter of wizards, a bustling atmosphere of worldly activity.
Several fairy-like tellers sat behind the high counter, their slender fingers manipulating the scales and ledgers, their sharp eyes scanning each customer.
Vincent's presence seemed to be ignored by everyone. He quietly gazed at the scene before him, which was so similar to the one in his memory, and casually walked into the hall.
His seemingly random path always cleverly utilizes the blind spots or physical distances of other wizards to avoid the direct line of sight of the fairy clerks. The busy fairies and wizards focused on their own affairs always subconsciously ignore his insignificant figure.
He went against the flow of people conducting business and quietly entered a side corridor marked "Exclusive Passage for Employees and VIP Clients".
The gemstone by the door shimmered slightly, as if it had sensed something.
Vincent stretched out his hand, a barely visible wisp of silver light flowing from his fingertips.
The gem seemed to be soothed, or perhaps persuaded; it stopped sparkling and allowed him to pass.
The private passage was quiet. A few minutes later, a large door blocked his way.
The fairies' craftsmanship was exquisite; other wizards could only go so far.
But Vincent was different. He was an apprentice of a legendary alchemist, capable of disassembling and reassembling even the most advanced Muggle fighter planes, and this exquisitely crafted door couldn't stop him.
My dear, there is more to come after this chapter. Please click on the next page to continue reading. There will be more exciting chapters later!
The passageway behind the door is somewhat rough, but the further down you go, the fewer artificial traces there are, and the stronger the original texture of the rock becomes.
Vincent encountered some goblin servants pushing carts, who cast wary glances at him.
His aura was too calm, perhaps due to the fairies' own strong self-confidence, they seemed to mistakenly believe that he was a wizard who had been specially granted entry by the higher-ups of Gringotts.
Just as they hesitated, wanting to step forward and question him, Vincent's figure had already disappeared into the distance.
The Gringotts basement is a labyrinth, and finding the temporary vault numbered 627 among countless vaults is like finding a needle in a haystack.
Vincent was both lucky and unlucky.
He encountered two fully armed goblin guards who crossed their golden spears to block his path.
"Please stop, sir." The fairy on his left stared intently at him, her gaze scrutinizing him. "This is a restricted area. Please show your credentials or be accompanied by a guiding fairy."
Vincent stopped, a perfectly timed look of confusion on his face. "A warrant? Mr. Borgrod, who led me here, asked me to come down and check out the vault first; it will be here shortly."
The two fairy guards exchanged a glance.
“It’s vault number 627,” Vincent announced the number, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. “You know Mr. Bowrod, right? He has a sallow complexion and big eyes; he’s my investment advisor.”
The fairy guards had clearly lowered their guard.
One of them stretched out his hand and pointed to the passage on the left, "Vault No. 627 is over there. Keep going straight and turn right at the third fork in the road."
"Thank you for your guidance." Vincent turned his head to look at the passageway, as if he were really lost.
"Wait a minute." Another fairy guard called out to him, squinting his large eyes as he scrutinized his face. "Sir, haven't we met somewhere before?"
Vincent sighed inwardly, "Probably not, this is only my second time coming down here."
The fairy tilted its head and pondered for a while, then suddenly its eyes became wary again.
"You...you are..."
Vincent moved with incredible speed, taking down the two fairies in front of him with two swift chops.
……
……
