"Then how much do you want?" Snape asked, frowning.
Blake, already thinking Snape's initial offer of a thousand galleons was too low, replied sharply, "Ten thousand gold galleons. Broken bone price."
"Ten thousand?!" Snape nearly leapt. "That's outrageous!"
Blake sneered. "Do you know what a technological monopoly is? Tell me—who else can do what I can? Technically, I could charge you a hundred thousand, and it'd still be fair. Or... are you saying Lily isn't worth that much to you?"
Snape's voice softened. "She's priceless to me."
Blake shivered. Gross. Wake up, man—that's someone else's wife.
He pinched his waist, refocusing. "So, I'm only charging ten thousand. Still sound unreasonable?"
Snape nodded slowly. "No... I suppose not."
"Great!" Blake spread his hands. "So, where's your share? Strictly speaking, you owe me tens of thousands."
Snape sighed, reluctantly handing it over. Something about this still felt off, but Blake's logic held.
Blake turned and gleefully tried to share the money with Agatha, but she shook her head.
"I'll donate my share to the organization," she said smoothly.
That was clever—saying no would've sparked an argument, but framing it as a donation shifted the tone.
Blake grinned and pocketed the full reward. "Severus, see how enlightened she is?"
Snape scowled. "I'm not part of your organization. Why should I be enlightened?"
Still, his money was gone.
After gathering the loot from Stronghold 24, the trio dispatched the last of the dark wizards—straight to Merlin—and Blake harvested three more soul ashes.
They jumped through dimensional gates, finishing the remaining tasks swiftly. In total, Blake collected over fifty soul ashes. While the other strongholds were poorer than the second, he still came away with a windfall of 70,000 gold galleons—plus commission bonuses.
Even the eternally grim-faced Snape was glowing. Yes, Blake had blackmailed a good portion of his share, but it was still a hefty cut.
Agatha noticed Snape's rare good mood. "Feeling good? You know, if you join us, things like this happen often."
Snape snorted. He, join Blake's little faction for a few gold coins? Absurd.
But his hand kept drifting to the bulging coin pouch in his cloak... Maybe he should consider it.
They decided not to turn in their commissions all at once—it would be too suspicious to complete seven or eight major tasks in one day. So, they agreed on staggered dates and parted ways.
Blake returned to his unnamed island.
Snape headed back to Spinner's End.
Agatha flew home to her mountaintop base.
Blake appeared in his room, removed his travel cloak, and looked around. Nothing had changed—no one had been here.
Satisfied, he checked his watch. Four-thirty in the afternoon. A bit of time before dinner. Exhausted from a full day of "killing and looting," he kicked off his shoes and collapsed into bed.
Sleep came quickly.
When he woke, stars filled the sky.
He'd missed Nagini's dinner again. Grumbling, he grabbed a snack from the convenience store stash and sat on the bed, munching as he stared out the window.
"When the zoo on Wuming Island is done, I'm buying a yacht," he muttered. "Or maybe build one here... Swimwear, summer, sailing around the coast... Should I go to France and invite the Fleur sisters too?"
He was still dreaming up yacht party plans when a knock tapped at his window.
A large owl pecked the glass.
"So late? Who's writing me?"
With plans for the island zoo increasing communication, some of the concealment charms had been lifted to allow owls in.
Blake flicked his fingers, opening the window. The owl swooped in and landed on his desk.
He fed it a crumbled cookie and retrieved the letter it carried.
As the owl munched, Blake opened the message and read.
A grin crept across his face. "Well now... this is getting interesting."
He looked at the owl. "Was the sender a man or woman?"
The owl hooted.
"Got it." Blake tucked the letter away and changed his clothes.
"Want to leave now? I'll give you a lift," he offered.
The owl tilted its head. It had delivered letters for years and never understood humans—yet somehow, it understood this one.
With a small chirp, it fluttered onto Blake's shoulder.
He drew a circle in the air, opening a dimensional gate.
On the other side, Grindelwald stared in surprise.
Blake stepped through, eyeing the circular room. It looked oddly familiar.
He realized why—it resembled Dumbledore's office.
Grindelwald lit up with joy. "Ah! You came right after reading my letter?"
"Yes," Blake said. "It's fascinating. My curiosity's been piqued."
"I only meant to warn you, not summon you here." Grindelwald chuckled.
"I can leave if you want," Blake offered.
"No, no, stay!" Grindelwald hurried to fetch a plush armchair and ushered him in. The owl perched on a table nearby, staring at the vanished gate.
It had flown for hours to reach Blake. This man had brought it back instantly.
Grindelwald beamed. "Looks like this is your first time here."
He poured a glass of honey pumpkin juice for Blake. "I've been hoping you'd come. I know you like sweets, so I stocked up, just in case."
He opened a cabinet—packed with desserts and drinks.
Blake felt awkward. The mighty Dark Lord acting like a doting uncle?
"You should sit too," Blake insisted. "Can't just let you serve me like this."
"I wanted to visit before, but... you know why I didn't," Blake said.
Blake had long been curious about Nurmengard. But Dumbledore, despite letting him skip classes and roam freely, forbade visits here.
So, he'd avoided it—until now. This situation was just too intriguing to ignore.
Grindelwald huffed. "That old fool! I told him I'm a proper educator now. But he treats me like a criminal!"
He waved it off. "Forget him. Since you're here, let me give you a tour."
Blake nodded, standing.
They walked the empty corridors of Nurmengard—it was holiday season.
Blake pulled out the letter. "What you said... it's all true?"
"Every word," Grindelwald said. "Winsty didn't lie. Her vampire father is alive—and I've spoken to him."
Blake blinked. "But I thought he died?"
"He told me even if Winsty stabbed him through the heart, he wouldn't die."
"That's... unsettling," Blake muttered. "Vampires here are usually weak. You can buy them in Knockturn Alley."
They were more like sickly outcasts than creatures of myth. But this sounded like something out of a Muggle legend.
"He really turned her into a vampire?"
"That was his plan. Said it would give her immortality. He's tired of being alone."
Blake frowned. "And daylight? Doesn't that kill him?"
"He visited during the day to perform her transformation ritual."
Grindelwald had stopped him—Winsty didn't want to become a vampire.
Since Blake had sent her to study under Grindelwald after Lockhart's downfall, the old wizard treated her like a daughter-in-law.
So when Winsty refused, he intervened.
"Do you believe him?" Blake asked. "About being unkillable?"
"I do," Grindelwald said grimly. "Because I killed him. Five times. During the day."
Blake's eyes widened. "And?"
"He revived. Every time. Even when I cut off his head—he just picked it up, reattached it, and walked off like nothing happened."
Blake whistled. "Creepy."
Grindelwald nodded. "I managed to drive him away... but he read the Prophet. He knows about you."
"So he's coming for me?" Blake grinned. "Now that's exciting."
Grindelwald gave him a side-eye. This lunatic...
He shouldn't have worried. That vampire might end up on a dissection table.
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