The Great Hall of Hogwarts was buzzing with the usual morning chatter.
Harry ate quickly, hardly tasting the food. It was Potions first thing that morning, and he didn't dare risk being late—especially not for Professor Snape. Other teachers might deduct points for tardiness, but Snape never stopped at that; he always threw in a few venomous remarks that were guaranteed to ruin one's appetite for lunch.
Snape had been particularly irritable this year. No one knew what had provoked him, but he seemed to curse everyone he saw, spreading misery wherever he went. To make matters worse, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Lupin, was frail and often absent. Every time he took sick leave, it meant another week of double Potions with Snape—a pure nightmare for Harry.
"Harry, slow down, will you? We've still got time!" Ron said, watching him wolf down his breakfast.
Harry swallowed a mouthful of whole wheat bread thickly spread with butter and chased it down with a gulp of hot milk. "Can't. I've got to bring breakfast for S.B.—the poor thing won't eat the meat bones the house-elves give it."
Ron groaned. "Honestly, Emrys should've taken his dog with him if he's not even at school. Why do we have to feed it?"
Harry shook his head, grinning. "Don't say that, Ron. I wanted to take care of S.B. myself. Haven't you noticed? It likes me best!"
Ron shrugged and speared a baked potato from the platter in front of them. "Alright, if you're happy. But you've got to admit—S.B. is far too smart for an ordinary dog without a trace of magical blood."
Harry glanced toward the tall doors of the Great Hall as more students trickled in—mostly Slytherins.
Ron followed his gaze and leaned close, lowering his voice. "Look at Malfoy! He was moping for weeks, like his dad had been struck down, and now he's strutting in like he owns the place. Do you reckon his father's illness is cured or something?"
Percy, sitting nearby with his usual air of self-importance, didn't answer. He merely slid that morning's Daily Prophet across the table to his younger brother.
Ron rolled his eyes. Percy's "I-know-more-than-you" attitude never failed to irritate him. Still, curiosity got the better of him, and he unfolded the paper. The front-page headline made him blink.
"Count Dantes to Restart Merlin City Phase II?"
He began reading aloud between bites of toast.
"Count Dantes has once again located the grebbato magic crystal, making it possible to restart the Merlin City Phase II project."
"Pre-sales for Merlin City Phase II have begun, limited to one property per person."
"The Jenny Weasley Family returns to Britain, expressing absolute confidence in Count Dantes. Mr. Ewoyn stated that if Count Dantes had not withdrawn from Merlin City last time, the Fire Serpent Party would never have captured it. Mr. Ewoyn also announced that the Jenny Weasley Family intends to purchase as many properties in Merlin City Phase II as possible—but only completed ones."
"Pre-sales for Merlin City Phase II are booming. The Merlin City Central Bank has introduced a low-interest loan policy. With sufficient collateral, wizards can now borrow at exceptionally low rates."
"The international wizarding community believes Count Dantes's efforts could compensate for some of the losses caused by the Fire Serpent Party. Though there are doubts, most pure-blood families admire the Count's courage and sense of responsibility."
Ron frowned. He didn't understand much about pre-sales, property investment, or loans, but one thing stood out—if restarting Merlin City Phase II could make the pure-blood families rich again, that explained the excitement.
"The Count really doesn't give up, does he?" Ron muttered. "He must be obsessed with that city."
He sighed. If everyone were poor, he thought, no one would mock my family for being broke.
Then he noticed Draco Malfoy, radiant and self-satisfied at the Slytherin table. Ron shoved the last bit of bread into his mouth and tugged at Harry's sleeve. "Come on, Harry, you've got to feed S.B., remember? Let's go before Snape takes our heads off."
Harry raised an eyebrow, puzzled by Ron's sudden urgency, but followed him anyway.
At the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy was practically glowing with delight.
Only weeks ago, when Merlin City had fallen to the Fire Serpent Party, the Malfoys had lost heavily. The bonds they'd bought at great expense had turned to worthless scraps of parchment overnight. Many pure-blood families had invested in Merlin City Phase II, pledging both gold and reputation. When the grebbato magic crystal was stolen, their debts became impossible to repay.
Draco had nearly fainted when he learned that his monthly allowance would be cut to five silver Sickles. His world had crumbled—until Count Dantes returned with news that changed everything.
"Do you know what's happened?" Draco announced loudly to his Slytherin classmates, his pale eyes glittering. "My father just secured a loan from the Merlin City Central Bank—interest rate of only 0.3%! Practically free money! And Mr. Ewoyn of the Jenny Weasley Family has agreed to the final purchase price: no less than three times the pre-sale price! If the property value goes higher when construction finishes, the market price applies instead!"
He paused, basking in their astonishment. "That means our family's wealth has already tripled—and all our earlier losses are gone!"
A sceptical Slytherin across the table sneered. "You're bluffing. Why would Ewoyn pay triple for your property? He's not an idiot."
Draco lifted his chin, wearing that smug "you-poor-fools" expression he'd perfected. "You don't get it. Buying in Merlin City Phase II is limited to one property per person, and buyers must appear in person. The Jenny Weasley Family has tens of thousands of members. By the time they all travel to Britain and line up, there won't be any properties left.
"And let's be honest," Draco continued, lowering his voice knowingly, "the Germans are cautious by nature. Mr. Ewoyn might claim he trusts the Count, but last time, he was the one who doubted him the most! My father says Ewoyn's afraid Merlin City will face another disaster, so he's decided to buy only completed properties. The Jenny Weasley Family has mountains of gold—they don't care about paying more. Stability is worth the price."
Several young Slytherins nodded. They'd all heard of the Jenny Weasley Family's staggering wealth, and Draco's logic, though conceited, made sense.
Still, another student frowned. "But what if the Fire Serpent Party attacks again? Then what?"
This time Draco didn't need to defend himself—someone else jumped in eagerly.
"That won't happen! Last time, Merlin City fell because the Count was betrayed by fools who tried to push him out. The Fire Serpent Party only succeeded because Dantes wasn't in charge. Do you really think they'd dare try again now that he's back?"
The group murmured in agreement. None of them had forgotten the Daily Prophet's dramatic photos: Count Dantes astride a Dark Arts dragon, flames pouring from its jaws as he obliterated the Fire Serpent Party's monstrous plants. The image had burned itself into every witch and wizard's mind.
Draco smirked, enjoying their admiration. "Exactly. You should all tell your families to act quickly. My father says the Central Bank's Galleon reserves are dropping fast. The more families take loans, the less gold the bank will have, and once that happens, the interest rate won't stay this low."
"Malfoy, thanks for sharing such important news," one student said respectfully.
Draco's grin widened. His pride practically wagged like a tail. "We pure-blood families of Britain have to stick together. Not like that idiot Old Avery—he's ruined himself. He'll never set foot in Britain again."
At that very moment, far away in Cairo, the so-called "idiot" Draco mentioned—Ollivander Avery—was doing anything but worrying.
He lounged in a wizarding bar called Boil, a place notorious for its fiery atmosphere and its crowd of thrill-seekers. Ever since Avery had fled Britain and realised his son, Gai Avery, wasn't coming to join him, he'd drowned his frustrations in drink and company. Now he was one of Boil's most popular patrons.
"Another round, Mr. Avery?" one of the witches asked, her eyes sparkling.
"Of course, of course! Everyone have another!" he laughed, his words slurred but cheerful.
"Mr. Avery has quite the tolerance!" giggled another witch, brushing his sleeve.
"Hahaha! Well, it's boring to drink alone, isn't it?" Avery replied, eyes glinting with mischief.
"Oh? And what do you suggest to make it more entertaining?" one of them teased.
Avery leaned back in his chair, grinning lazily. "I can think of a few things…"
The table erupted in laughter and clinking glasses. The music swelled. Somewhere, a wand shot off golden sparks across the ceiling.
But deep inside, even through the haze of wine and perfume, Ollivander Avery knew he was running from more than debt. He was running from failure—from the ridicule of every pure-blood family that had once called him a friend.
Back at Hogwarts, Harry and Ron hurried through the corridors toward the Potions classroom. The castle was alive with the hum of gossip—everyone was talking about Count Dantes and the revival of Merlin City Phase II.
Even Hermione had mentioned it over breakfast before disappearing to the library, muttering about "magical economics" and "irresponsible banking systems."
As they rounded a corner, Harry caught sight of Draco again, walking with his usual swagger, surrounded by Slytherins hanging on his every word.
Ron scowled. "He's unbearable when he's happy. I almost prefer him miserable."
Harry chuckled under his breath. "Come on, Ron. Let's just hope Snape's in a good mood."
Ron groaned. "When is he ever?"
They reached the dungeon steps just as the bell rang. The smell of potions and damp stone filled the air.
Whatever triumphs or failures were happening outside the castle—in Merlin City or anywhere else—inside these walls, some things never changed. Snape would sneer, Malfoy would boast, and Harry would try his best not to lose his temper.
But deep down, even Harry couldn't deny it: the world beyond Hogwarts was shifting. Count Dantes's name was once again on everyone's lips, and even the old families were stirring with new hope—or greed.
For better or worse, change was coming.
And somewhere out there, in a city rising from its ashes, the threads of fate were quietly tightening—waiting for the next storm to begin.
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