Remus Lupin paused, looking at Charlie:
"What do you need me to do?"
"I bought shares in some of the House of Black's properties, and I need someone to manage them."
Charlie leaned back in his seat and said calmly.
Remus Lupin was even more confused:
"What about Sirius? Shouldn't he be the one managing the Black family properties?"
Charlie raised an eyebrow: "Do you think Sirius can manage them properly?"
Remus Lupin fell silent.
Although they were good brothers, he was very clear that his good brother lacked sense.
If he was asked to charge into battle or get into a fight, there would certainly be no problem.
But when it came to running properties or managing businesses... forget it. Sirius was only suited for jobs like muscle or bodyguard work.
"Say yes, Professor!" Harry urged from the side.
"This is a great opportunity!"
Remus Lupin looked at Harry, then at Charlie, and finally nodded: "Alright, I accept."
Charlie extended his hand, and Remus Lupin shook it.
"Sirius will hand things over to you in a couple of days," Charlie said.
As for what Sirius would do once the properties were handed over to Remus Lupin...
Charlie didn't plan on letting him stay idle; he should replace Norbert.
After all, Norbert, being a dragon, was never convenient to have staying at the Orphanage.
"Oh, right."
Remus Lupin suddenly remembered something.
"How much stock did you buy in the House of Black?"
"One hundred percent," Charlie said calmly.
Remus Lupin:??
Boss, do we perhaps have a different understanding of 'buying shares'?
Just then, a small Owl suddenly appeared outside the train window, flying unsteadily in the airflow, clutching a letter in its talons.
"Oh, little fellow, how did you end up here!"
Harry quickly pulled down the window and reached out, catching the little creature that was almost blown away by the wind.
The Owl landed on his hand, shook its feathers, lifted its head proudly, and dropped the letter onto Harry's lap.
Harry tore open the letter and quickly recognized Sirius's handwriting.
The letter contained many words, mostly pleasantries.
But there was useful information too: Sirius, as Harry's godfather, had agreed to let Harry go to Hogsmeade.
The letter finally mentioned that this Owl was for Ron, meant to compensate him for the pet he lost.
"Ron, this is for you." Harry handed the Owl over.
Ron took the Owl, but his face showed no excitement.
He stared at the little thing, his eyes full of wariness.
"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, confused.
"This Owl is very cute."
Ron cautiously looked at Charlie.
"Charlie, can you help me check... this Owl isn't a person, is it?"
Charlie didn't know whether to laugh or cry; he had truly been traumatized.
"Don't worry, this is just a regular Owl. No one is unlucky enough to have two pets in a row that are Animagi."
Only then did Ron relax.
The train arrived at the station, and steam billowed out from the engine.
Arthur Weasley and Molly Weasley and Mr. and Mrs. Granger stood on the platform. Molly Weasley was craning her neck, holding a large package in her hand.
Mr. and Mrs. Granger seemed more reserved, unaccustomed to this environment packed with Wizarding families.
Meanwhile, Harry's uncle, Vernon Dursley, stood far away by the station exit, clearly reluctant to be there.
Ron and Hermione said goodbye to everyone and ran toward their respective parents.
Harry and Charlie walked toward the exit.
Vernon Dursley saw Harry emerge and immediately beckoned with a stern face:
"Hurry up, don't dawdle!"
Harry walked up to Vernon Dursley, then turned to say goodbye to Charlie:
"I'm leaving now, Charlie."
"Mhm." Charlie nodded.
Vernon Dursley glared, speaking gruffly:
"Tell these freaks to stay away from me!"
Charlie narrowed his eyes, fixing his gaze on Vernon Dursley.
Damn fat bastard, dare to curse me? I think you're tired of living too long.
Harry quickly apologized to Charlie:
"Sorry, Charlie, my uncle doesn't really accept Wizards. I apologize for him."
Vernon Dursley felt completely uneasy under Charlie's stare, subconsciously taking half a step back and muttering something under his breath.
Charlie suddenly spoke: "Harry, will your godfather visit you during the summer?"
Harry was momentarily stunned, glanced at his uncle, and quickly grasped Charlie's meaning.
"Of course, he will," Harry said.
Vernon Dursley frowned: "Where did you get a godfather?"
Harry turned his head and said seriously: "I just met him this semester. He was a good friend of my mom and dad."
"So what?" Vernon Dursley said impatiently.
"He was convicted of murder and just got out of prison," Harry continued.
Vernon Dursley's tone became unnatural.
"Oh, was he released after serving his sentence?"
"Not exactly. He successfully broke out of prison, escaping the pursuit of dozens of guards. He's a really good person, and he cares a lot about how I'm doing. He should be coming to visit me during the holidays."
Vernon Dursley's face instantly went deathly pale.
Charlie gave Vernon Dursley a gentle smile:
"Good luck when you meet him."
...The pleasant holiday began.
This holiday was different from usual; the Quidditch World Cup would be held this summer.
Naturally, Charlie couldn't miss it, so he had the Malfoy family book him the best tickets.
When it came to pulling strings, the Malfoy family still held the authority.
On the eve of the World Cup, Little Hangleton, Riddle House.
The night was deep, the moonlight obscured by heavy clouds, and the entire village was plunged into silence.
Frank Bryce, the old gardener, was leaning on his cane, boiling water in his Hut, preparing for bed.
Through the window, he accidentally glanced at the long-abandoned Riddle House on the hill, and noticed a faint light flickering in an upstairs window.
Frank Bryce squinted, confirming he hadn't seen wrong.
The light flickered, like the flame of a candle swaying.
"Damn little rascals," Frank Bryce muttered, putting down the kettle.
It must be those naughty boys from the neighborhood breaking into the old mansion again.
Riddle House had been abandoned for decades, and the village children always liked to go there for adventures, making up ghost stories to scare each other.
Frank Bryce put on his coat, picked up his flashlight and cane, and decided to chase those little brats out.
He slowly walked up the hill; his chronic knee problem made him move very slowly.
The night wind blew, the leaves rustled, and the air was thick with the scent of damp earth.
The front door of Riddle House was ajar. Frank Bryce pushed it open, producing a grating creak.
He shone his flashlight toward the stairs. The steps were covered in dust, but fresh footprints were visible.
"Someone is here, alright," Frank Bryce whispered.
He quietly walked up the stairs, trying to make every step light.
Faint voices came from upstairs. Frank Bryce stopped and strained his ears to listen carefully.
Something was wrong.
This was not the sound of children.
The voice was sharp and grating, like fingernails scraping glass, giving him goosebumps.
Frank Bryce gripped his cane, hesitating whether to continue. But having lived on this land for most of his life, his stubborn nature prevented him from retreating.
He slowly followed the corridor toward the source of the light, finding it emanating from a half-open door.
Frank Bryce held his breath and peered through the crack in the door.
Several candles were lit in the room, their flames flickering unsteadily.
A tall figure had his back to the door, kneeling on one knee toward a chair.
"Master, everything is ready. I will infiltrate Hogwarts this semester and find a way to kill Harry Potter."
On the chair, a blurry figure sat in the shadows.
"Remember, Barty, you must use his blood." The voice was sharp and grating, as if squeezed from deep within a throat.
"Only the blood of the enemy can truly resurrect me."
"Master, can't someone else be used instead? I am willing to offer my blood, my everything." Barty Crouch Jr. looked up, his tone fervent.
The figure on the chair let out a grating laugh.
"My loyal servant, I understand your devotion, but your blood cannot help me."
"But there is actually one other person," Lord Voldemort's voice became even colder.
"Charlie White!"
Barty Crouch Jr. was stunned.
"Who is that?"
"A student the same age as Harry Potter," Lord Voldemort sneered.
"I want him to die an even more miserable death than Harry!"
Barty Crouch Jr. said fiercely.
"I will certainly make him pay a price in blood, and make him regret offending the Master."
"He is not someone you can deal with. Just stick to the plan."
Barty Crouch Jr. lowered his head:
"I understand, Master. Everything will proceed according to your plan."
Outside the door, Frank Bryce was terrified.
Murder? Blood? What were these two lunatics plotting?
He had to leave, he had to call the police.
Frank Bryce carefully backed away, his cane tapping lightly on the floor.
Just then, a rustling sound came from beneath his feet.
He looked down: a giant snake was coiled by his feet, flicking its tongue, its eyes glowing with an eerie green light.
Frank Bryce gasped, freezing up completely.
The giant snake hissed.
The room was silent for a moment.
"Nagini says we have a guest."
The sharp voice rang out.
The chair slowly turned around, the candlelight illuminating the face.
Frank Bryce widened his eyes, a choked cry escaping his throat.
That could not be called a person at all.
A pale, bizarre infant, with skin stretched tightly over bone, only two holes for a nose, and scarlet eyes with pupils as thin as a snake's.
"Muggle," Lord Voldemort stared at Frank Bryce, a strange curve twisting his lips.
"How unfortunate."
He raised his hand, his withered fingers gripping a wand.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A jet of green light sliced through the darkness.
Frank Bryce's body went rigid, the terror in his eyes frozen, before he collapsed heavily onto the floor.
-------------------------
If you enjoy this story, you can read 70+ advanced chapters on Patreon!
Webnovel will keep getting 1 new chapter every day but Patreon readers can stay far ahead.
Maybe it's not a big deal now… maybe it will be later.
[email protected]/Greyhounds
"And If you're enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!"