The Butcher of Hogsmeade

When Shen Hou complained, Fabian teased, and Mundungus was speechless, Gideon, who had been listening in silence, suddenly spoke up: "Can you find out who is running the bookmaker and who placed the bets? Especially those who placed heavy bets."

"Those who dare to be bookmakers aren't afraid of your investigation. People in the industry can probably guess who the bookmakers are, otherwise no one would dare to place bets. The problem is, they won't give you any leverage over them." Mundungus shook his head vigorously.

"Not a Death Eater?"

"Who can say for sure? To be in charge, you need money and credibility. Regardless of their public names, these people are all connected to pure-blood families to some extent." Mundungus practically mocked Gideon's naiveté. "With so many officials from pure-blood families in the Ministry of Magic, do you dare say you know the stance of every single one of them?"

"Where are the people who placed the bets? Can you find out?" Gideon ignored the other person's question and focused solely on his own.

"That's top secret. Inquiring about this kind of thing is taboo in any casino, and I can't do that," Mundungus said sternly. "You can explain asking the bookmaker by saying you're worried about not getting paid if you win, but asking about other gamblers' bets... humph..."

"Is there absolutely no way to do it?"

"Why are you asking all this? Do you want to place a bet too? I can do it for you, no need to pry." Mundungus was getting impatient. He couldn't answer the questions and didn't want to get into trouble for them. The most valuable experience he had accumulated in life was how to sense danger and avoid risks, so he was eager to end the conversation.

Gideon was also getting impatient, angry at Mundungus's evasiveness and lack of understanding. He lowered his voice and said, "Think about the key to the problem, Fletcher! If we can find out which Death Eater—or someone suspected of being close to the Death Eaters—placed a large bet in the game, we might be able to deduce their action plan; at least we'll know when they plan to make their move."

"Are you insane!" Mundungus exclaimed, clearly terrified by the other's idea. "I promised Dumbledore I'd help, but he only told me to keep an eye on what was happening on the streets. Now you want me to find out the Death Eaters' secrets! If I had that ability..."

"So you'll become an Auror?" Fabian teased.

"No, I'll become a Death Eater!" Mundungus said indignantly.

The conversation at the post office entrance ended unhappily.

"So he's also one of Professor Dumbledore's men, one of your allies?" Shen Hou asked slowly, watching Mundungus's tall and thin figure as he put his top hat back on.

The Pwitt brothers exchanged glances, realizing they had been too emotional—mainly because Mundungus had been too agitated—and had let something slip. Previously, their relationship with Mundungus wasn't outwardly apparent; they were likely seen as law enforcement officers and informants with leverage over him. But their slip of the tongue had exposed the true core of their underlying interpersonal relationship.

"He does work for Professor Dumbledore, but..." Gideon carefully chose his words, trying to mitigate the impact of the exposed relationship, "He's very well-informed, but his circle is complicated, and his own conduct isn't very trustworthy, so we rarely let him know core secrets."

"You're being too kind, Gideon; if you ask me, although we cooperate with him and are allies, we don't trust him," Fabian said, much more bluntly than his brother.

"If it were me, I wouldn't trust a guy who bets I'll die within a month either," Shen Hou said in a deep voice. "Speaking of which, he wasn't involved in our plan this time, was he? At least, he wasn't involved for the next two weeks to a month, was he?"

Fabian couldn't help but chuckle: "Don't worry, not just for those two weeks, but from beginning to end, he wasn't involved at all; he wasn't at the beginning, and he certainly won't be in the future."

"That's good. I hope he goes bankrupt, but I also hope he won't turn against us after he goes bankrupt."

"Then there's even less to worry about. Ever since we've known him, he's gone bankrupt on average once a month."

The three chatted and laughed as they pushed open the door to the post office. As soon as they entered, the historical weight of the 19th-century Victorian era washed over them once again, this time mixed with a faint smell of bird droppings.

The heavy, solid wood counter was wide and tall, and the window was separated by a copper grille. Beneath the intricate decorative patterns was a small window, about half a foot square. Inside the window was a young man of about twenty years old, with pale skin and light blond hair, every strand of which exuded a flamboyant and sharp temperament.

"Welcome, how can I help you?" The young man spoke through the fence, displaying professional politeness, attentive but not enthusiastic, courteous but distant.

"I haven't seen you before, are you new here?" Gideon sized him up.

"You're right. I've only been here for less than a month. Because of the previous one... you know, that 'Werewolf Night,' the post office was broken into, and almost all the staff who stayed behind were injured. Fortunately, no one was bitten, but those who were scratched needed to take a long leave." The young man answered in detail.

"Oh, just graduated?"

"Graduated last summer, Ravenclaw."

"Finding a job must be tough, right?"

"It wasn't too difficult, but after graduation I enjoyed my last summer vacation by going on a graduation trip with my classmates."

"Ha, a graduation trip? These days, very few young wizards follow this tradition, not even the older generation cares much," Fabian interjected with interest. "What's your name?"

"Barty Crouch," the young man replied calmly, pointing to the name tag on his chest.

The three people outside the fence were startled when they heard the name, but then they saw the initials "Jr" next to the name on the name tag.

"So, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is...?"

"My father." The young man's voice was calm as usual, and no one noticed the flash of disgust in his eyes as he spoke.

"Ah, I remember now. I did hear that Mr. Crouch had a son, but he rarely mentioned it when he was in the department, and very few people had seen him." Gideon's voice warmed up a bit, but he didn't notice the few cold glints that flashed in the other man's eyes when he heard the words "Mr. Crouch," "son," and "rarely mentioned."

"How can I help you?" The young man's tone was polite and professional, as if he didn't want polite small talk to take up work time.

Gideon, unperturbed, pointed to the two smugglers floating in the air and said, "Send a letter to the Auror office and have them send someone to escort the suspect; don't use owls, use Floonets."

"Okay, please follow me." The young man opened the partition next to the counter, clearing a path, but one hand remained hanging at his side, where a section of a wand handle peeked out from under his clothes; his gaze swept across Shen Hou's face, unhurried, calm and indifferent, no different from that of a stranger in a crowd.