Hogwarts: Becoming the White Lord from Breathing

Chapter 152 Don't disturb him!

The huge underground auction house had fresh and cool air, like a movie theater with its ventilation system turned on.

Damon and Kingsley arrived at the scene; the former appeared relaxed, while the latter looked wary.

"Relax. You look like you're about to go to war. We've partnered up so many times, aren't you used to it yet?"

"Yes"

A barely suppressed bitter smile flashed across Kingsley's face.

They always go straight to the point, attacking the enemy's stronghold. They start fighting at the drop of a hat. Who can get used to that?
After partnering with Caliban so many times, the only lesson he could learn was:

Don't be fooled by the peaceful and serene atmosphere right now, which makes it seem like we're on a covert mission. In reality, a fight could break out at any moment.

Of course, he had to be ready for battle at any time.

However, Lord Caliban is right. At least for now, they are still in the process of lying in wait, and his behavior is too obvious. But what does it matter?

It wasn't that Kingsley had become arrogant; rather, the two guards at the entrance were just about to inspect the invitations when they were instantly bewitched by a silent confusion spell.

So exquisite, so silent.
Kingsley's gaze passed over the guards—the spacious underground auction hall was already full of people.

Moreover, figures draped in black robes passed by within a few meters of them, yet none of them noticed the magical fluctuations in the area.
The guard did not check the tokens, but handed the two men black bird-beak masks.

Damon smiled and took the mask, then he and Kingsley glanced at it before putting it on.

Kingsley looked at him, wanting to say something, but then gave up. He had wanted to say that there might be magical surveillance, and that the guards hadn't checked their non-existent tokens, so something might have already happened.

that's the truth.
This underground auction house is frequented by people of extremely high strength or status in the magical world. How could it possibly only have two simple guards for security?

Two sentries, who rotate every four hours, had already noticed something amiss, and those observing everything from the dark observation deck at the top of the roof witnessed the entire scene.

"Something's wrong with Fudge. Why has his demeanor changed so drastically?"

"Hiss," West paced back and forth, somewhat surprised and uncertain.

Seeing that the sentry was about to step forward to ask questions, he quickly used a telepathic spell to say:
"Don't disturb him!"

"Why? I need a reason."

The sentry was held jointly responsible with him; if anything went wrong, he could face the most severe punishment, death, depending on the severity of the situation.

“I know something’s wrong with this Fudge. But if you go and ask him, you might alert him, you understand?”

"What's the harm in alerting him? If he really has a problem?"

The sound suddenly stopped.

The most widespread message circulating on the black market recently regarding Caliban Mortos and his modus operandi is: "When you discover he has infiltrated, do not try to capture him; try to maintain the status quo and then quickly disperse him!"

"You mean this person is Mortos?"

The sentry's voice, which was always as calm and emotionless as ever, suddenly became passionate, as if the emotionless killer had suddenly realized the truth, goodness, and beauty in a moment.

Ah, how wonderful the world is! Why must we fight and kill each other?
"Hmm, I suspect so. If you observe closely, that old fox Fudge is a bit flamboyant, but that underlying confidence can't be faked—wherever he stands, I feel he's radiant. Buddy, please don't bother him, I'm begging you." "So what do we do now?"

"I've already told the big boss that we should maintain the status quo until he gives the order—at least Mortos isn't planning to make a move yet, is he?"

The sentry fell silent and withdrew his foot. He even made himself more concealed, only using his peripheral vision to observe Fudge Mortos's companions.

If a fight breaks out, he will immediately use his phantom form to escape. If he is even a second late, given Mortos's terrifying style, he will probably seal off the entire scene.

Thinking of this, the sentry became more nervous than ever before.

This time, my life is truly in their hands; I can only hope they'll be gentle.
As for the reckoning with the boss after the escape?
Let's wait until the boss survives this time. In any case, this black market is probably doomed.

"Wait, that thing is at the auction!"

His eyes suddenly lit up.

With a hostage, Mortos will inevitably be hesitant to act rashly. Hmm, his chances of escaping have increased a bit.

Unaware of all this, Damon and Kingsley found an empty seat and sat down, guided by Kingsley, who was already drenched in sweat.

Every seat at the auction had a serial number corresponding to its invitation, except for the seats they were sitting in.

Were these seats specially prepared? Is this a common occurrence?

His mind raced, and he subconsciously glanced at the killer star beside him—who was watching the stands with great interest, seemingly very interested in the upcoming exhibits.

Hmm. Kingsley wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but he always felt that Caliban was always in high spirits whenever he went to the black market. He would admire the strange and unusual things hanging in the cabinets while sending the people who made them to the guillotine.

Sometimes, Kingsley couldn't figure out what the other person was thinking either.

For example, right now. Just thinking about how the two of them would be surrounded by possibly hundreds of wizards later made him feel a little lost. He didn't have much experience with this kind of thing.

In short, try not to hold Lord Caliban back. Although he felt it was unavoidable.
Thinking about this, Kingsley suddenly felt a little tired and genuinely envied those around him—if he could possess such power, even if it meant becoming a Death Eater, he might hesitate before refusing.
Lost in thought, the red curtain opened, and a gentleman in black wearing a white smiling mask appeared in the center of the stage.

"Distinguished guests, on behalf of host X, I welcome you."

After finishing his opening remarks, he clapped his hands loudly, and a stripper below the stage pushed up an item wrapped in a purple star-patterned cloth placed on a car.

"I'm sure everyone has heard of the Ravenclaw tiara, right? It's a treasure left behind by that great lady, and it can grant wisdom to anyone who wears it. Unfortunately, we still haven't been able to find its whereabouts."

Shavander subtly clenched his fist, reciting his prepared lines, trying his best not to look in the direction of 'Fudge' in the audience.

Chavand, you can do it! Just now, the order of items in the auction was suddenly and urgently reversed, moving all dangerous or inhumane items or people to the back of the list.
He even had an argument with the manager because of this.

"This is not in line with the purpose of the auction, I disagree!"

"Kaliban Mortos is right here in the audience. Do you want to provoke him?"

"I completely agree!"

(End of this chapter)