Chapter 231 The Elegant Robber
Avada Kedavra!!”
“Murder! Murder! Murder!!”
"Quickly notify the Aurors at the Ministry of Magic!!"
The crowd in the bar exploded instantly, and the customers who were just chatting and laughing ran away from their seats.
He was wandering around the bar like a headless fly, shouting hysterically and trying desperately to squeeze towards the only exit.
"boom!!!!"
It was not until another loud explosion was heard from behind that the panicked crowd froze in place and turned their heads mechanically to look.
All I saw was Peter Pettigrew standing on the dining table with a strange black object in his hand.
White smoke was rising slowly from the top, and above him was the chalky ceiling.
A big hole was created by some strange magic, and fine white dust fell on Peter Pettigrew's bald head, making him look very funny.
"Mind your manners gentlemen?"
Peter Pettigrew jumped off the dining table, grabbed the unfortunate guy who was lying on the ground, and threw him to the nearest wizard.
"Take him away. After all, we are drinking under the same roof. Don't you have such a sense of merit?"
Peter Pettigrew was shaking the strange black object in his hand, his body posture was distorted and exaggerated.
The wizard who was being aimed at by the dark pipe didn't understand what the other party was holding.
But his intuition told him that the thing was very dangerous, so he quickly took over the unfortunate guy and joined the other frightened wizards.
Under the other party's supervision, they lined up in an orderly manner to leave the Leaky Cauldron.
If Professor McGonagall saw the strict queuing discipline, she might praise them.
Peter Pettigrew watched those people leave, allowing them to shout wildly after leaving the bar.
Just when the last old figure was about to follow the large group to escape from the scene.
He reached out and grabbed the other person by the back of his collar.
"You are the owner of this bar, and I am a customer here. How can you leave before I order anything?"
Old Tom, who was grabbed by the collar, was so upset that he could only give an awkward but polite smile.
"Mr. Peter Pettigrew, would you like something to drink? How about I treat you for free?"
"No need?" Peter Pettigrew also smiled, his eyes revealing confidence, and it seemed that he was very satisfied with his smile.
But in old Tom's eyes, that smile looked so hideous.
When the other party was about to pick their pockets, the old men immediately squatted down with their heads in their hands and cried loudly.
"Don't kill me, don't kill me. I didn't see anything. I didn't see anything."
"I didn't mean to kill you."
The sound of a few coins falling on the table reached Old Tom's ears, and he looked up in horror.
Peter Pettigrew took out 10 glittering gold Galleons from his ragged pocket and placed them neatly on the bar counter.
Pointing at the money, he said in an apologetic tone.
"I'm sorry to interrupt your business. This money is to compensate for the damage to your house today and the cost of buying a cup of butterbeer."
Old Tom looked at the 10 gold Galleons, his eyes twitching wildly. He looked at his messy bar and waved his hands.
"No, really no, considering the tables and the ceiling, and the butterbeer you ordered."
"It won't cost 10 Galleons."
"I know." Peter Pettigrew spoke again, and it was obvious that he was trying to make his tone calmer.
But the sound it made was still low and obscene.
He pointed at the messy bar and the holes in the ceiling.
"It's definitely not a big loss just looking at these, but I'm going to destroy some more things later, so I'll pay you first."
"As for your loss of today's turnover, I'll have to go get some money first and then compensate you."
"So I hope I can have a nice cup of butterbeer when I come back the second time, thank you!!"
"You're quite polite."
Hearing the word "thank you" at the end, Old Tom was completely stunned. If it weren't for the fact that this family had just killed someone here with the Killing Curse.
He really thought that the man in front of him was just an ugly gentleman.
He speaks in a polite and refined manner, and is even more generous than some of the drunkards who drink here all year round.
"Thank you for the compliment?" Little Love Peter responded with a smile, but that smile looked so obscene.
After Old Tom put away the 10 gold Galleons, Peter Pettigrew made a gesture with his hand to hide.
At the same time, he kindly reminded.
"I'm about to start working, so I suggest you hide under the bar to avoid getting hurt."
"At the same time, you must protect your personal belongings. I'm going to get the money."
As he spoke, under the stunned gaze of Old Tom, Peter Pettigrew took out the dirty pocket.
He pulled out a metal ball that looked like a cantaloupe, unplugged the pull tab, and threw it toward the back of the bar with a smile.
"Boom!!!"
There was a loud bang accompanied by white smoke, and a big hole was blown directly in the back wall of the bar.
Peter Pettigrew looked at the white building standing at the end of Diagon Alley.
He first turned around and gracefully bowed slightly to apologize to Old Tom, who had just poked half of his head out from the bar.
He then put on a long black trench coat, a black wide-brimmed hat, and held a burning cigar in his mouth.
Humming elegant classical jazz music, he took out a brand new Thompson submachine gun from a suitcase containing a violin.
He rushed towards Gringotts in one step. The streets of Diagon Alley were already filled with all kinds of spectators.
The drunkards rushing out of the bar are the best natural loudspeakers.
A few desperate shouts had already spread everything that happened in the bar throughout the streets and alleys.
A group of wizards looked at the strange-looking Peter Pettigrew, all with puzzled expressions on their faces.
Peter Pettigrew seemed to enjoy the attention and smiled and responded to all the passers-by.
Even to some young women, he took off his hat.
Polite behavior, elegant and gorgeous makeup, and a short and fat body.
It formed an image that was both beautiful and awkward, until Peter Pettigrew walked to the ornate bronze door of Gringotts.
No one tried to stop it, not even the goblins guarding the gate who saw such a weirdo walking up to them.
He asked in a low voice, not without some doubt.
"Sir, may I ask what brings you to Gringotts?"
“I want to withdraw money!!”
Peter Pettigrew responded gracefully.
The fairy guarding the gate looked at the other party in confusion. Although he felt something was wrong, he still asked as a routine matter.
"Did you bring your vault key?"
"No."
"Do you have any other documents to exchange?"
"No."
"Or did you send someone from the Ministry of Magic..."
"no!!"
"ah???
This round of questions and answers confused the goblin guarding the gate, and he finally couldn't bear it anymore and shouted.
"You don't have any proof. How can Gringotts help you withdraw money?"
"I have this."
Peter Pettigrew smiled and pointed the black muzzle of the Chicago typewriter in his hand at the goblin in front of him.
Then he pulled the trigger directly, the muzzle flashed with flames, and the brass bullet shell fell to the ground, making a pleasant sound like a wind chime.
