Chapter 27: The Cautious Leonard

At night, Leonard once again slipped quietly out of the Leaky Cauldron and made his way to the spot Midgard had specified.

When he arrived, he didn't step into view at the street corner. Instead, he stayed hidden in the shadows, just beyond the reach of the gas lamp, watching the entrance that led into Knockturn Alley.

It wasn't that he was being overly cautious—he was guarding against the chance that Midgard hadn't killed Fenrir at all, but had been defeated instead.

If that were true, then the letter arranging this meeting could very well be a trap.

Leonard would rather take extra precautions than risk throwing his young life away on a possibility.

At the mouth of the alley stood a silent-looking middle-aged man.

One of Midgard's people?

Leonard narrowed his eyes and waited. Three different people walked past the alley, but none caught the man's attention.

Still, Leonard didn't move. He scanned every possible hiding spot, though his eyes never strayed far from the man in case something changed suddenly.

After a careful sweep, he found no one suspicious.

Just as Leonard was about to knock the man out with a Disarming Charm before approaching, Midgard herself stepped out of the alley.

She came in person? Then it should be fine.

Finally at ease, Leonard walked out of the shadows.

Midgard's expression made it clear she wasn't surprised.

"I figured you wouldn't show yourself unless I did," Midgard said with a small smile. "Your caution is impressive."

"I call it taking responsibility for my own life," Leonard replied.

"Oh? Is that so? Then I'm curious—what would you have done if I hadn't shown up?" Midgard asked with interest.

"I'd have knocked him out and asked whose side he was on." Leonard glanced at the stern-faced middle-aged man and shrugged.

The man looked back at Leonard, a subtle shift flickering in his eyes.

"You really are interesting," Midgard said, the corners of her mouth lifting. "Come on, let's go to my place. Get familiar with the route. If you ever run into trouble and can't send a letter, you'll know how to find me directly."

Midgard led the way while the middle-aged man took up the rear. The three of them passed through the dim streets until they reached a courtyard.

Inside, people lay scattered across the ground, all bearing injuries. Their ragged clothes gave Leonard the odd impression he'd walked into a beggars' den.

"These are all Werewolves?" Leonard asked.

"Of course. Aside from Werewolf wizards, no one else—no matter how close—would choose to live alongside Werewolves. It's not about prejudice, it's about survival."

Midgard glanced at him. "Take you, for example. Would you choose to live with a Werewolf?"

"No," Leonard answered without hesitation.

"Exactly." Midgard shrugged, leading him deeper into the courtyard and into a house.

The middle-aged man stayed at the doorway, standing guard.

Inside the room, Leonard and Midgard sat at a table piled with dust-covered Galleons, their golden shine all the more tempting beneath the grime.

"What's with all this money?" Leonard asked, setting the Essence of Dittany from his pocket onto the table.

"Oh, this was Fenrir's private stash. He buried every Galleon he wrung out of his men underground." Midgard curled her lip. "Pathetic."

"Truly pathetic. Money only has value when it's put to use. Otherwise, it's just shiny metal." Leonard fully agreed with her.

It wasn't that spending everything recklessly was a good habit, but beyond keeping a buffer for emergencies, money should either be used to make more or invested in self-improvement. Letting it sit idle just for show was the act of a fool.

For an organization, offering benefits and rewards could boost morale and loyalty. Squeezing subordinates dry for personal gain was nothing but killing the goose for its eggs.

No wonder Midgard had said Fenrir was as good as dead after being seriously injured. With behavior like that, who else could it have been but him?

"By the way, is Fenrir really dead?" Leonard asked.

Midgard gave him a weary look. "Dead. Absolutely. I cut his head off myself. Want me to show you?"

"Yes." Leonard nodded without hesitation, then quickly added, "Not because I doubt you—just worried you might've been deceived."

Midgard gave a short laugh, pulled a bloodstained sack from beneath the table, and tossed it onto the wood. "Go on, have a look. But don't blame me if it keeps you up tonight."

Leonard opened the sack and saw a face with slack skin drooping over the eyes.

Even though he'd braced himself, he still flinched. "What happened to him?"

"I smashed his facial bones. There was no time to mend them, so he ended up like that." Midgard spread her hands. "Told you it might ruin your sleep."

"It won't keep me awake. Just… Fenrir's death mask is unusually grotesque, that's all." Leonard rewrapped the head carefully. "Why go to such lengths to keep it intact?"

"To claim the bounty from the Ministry of Magic. He's on their wanted list," Midgard replied.

"A wanted list? What's the reward?" Leonard perked up instantly at the mention of a bounty—it had been his line of work in his previous life.