Auction Invitation Ⅱ

It was rather late and storming when a short wizard with bandy legs, long scraggly ginger hair, bloodshot baggy brown eyes, and a perpetual 5 o'clock shadow made his way to the edge of London. Smelling of tobacco and ash despite the weather, Mundungus Fletcher shivers as he pulls his coat that much tighter around him.

Gulping, Mundungus entered the pub known as Monarch. Eyes wide darting with nerves, Mundungus licks his dry lips as he sees the wizards inside pay him no mind. The air is rather smoky than usual as two wizards blow out great plumes of smoke from tobacco pipes. Several wizards play cards against each other, while a lonely, enchanted deck on an empty table plays against itself. And apparently, it's losing.

Gulping Mundungus makes his way to the usual booth at the back. Sitting in his usual place is the old, weathered wizard with neatly cut white hair in a knit wool jumper drinking a warm mug of spiced cider. "Please have seat, Mundungus," Sanderson gestured as the two burly wizards at his side glare down at Mundungus.

Mundungus lets out a soft squeak and does as he is told. Licking his dry lips again, he says, "Sanderson, I was called. What need is there for me?"

"You are aware that you owe me, are you not, Mundungus?" Sanderson lazily said.

"Yes, Sanderson, sir," Mundungus gulped. "I am aware that I owe you a favor."

"Excellent, it is time to call in that favor that is long past due," Sanderson said. "I want you to acquire for me an invitation to the Gringotts Auction."

"But Gringotts is impossible to steal from!" Mundungus sputtered as the room temperature dropped several degrees as the two burly wizards took a step closer to him. Hastily gulping, Mundungus says, "But I can acquire an invitation. It might take me a few weeks, but it'll be before the date of the invitation."

"Perfect then I expect to hear the good news," Sanderson lightly said as Mundungus was left with little doubt in his mind about what would happen should he fail.

"Yes, Sanderson, sir," Mundungus muttered, before getting up and scrambling as fast and as far away as he can. If he was going to do this, then he'd need all the luck and help he can get. But more importantly, call in some favors of his own.

Sanderson watches him go as the beady-eyed thug, Floyd asks, "Are you certain that you don't us to keep a close leash on him, boss?" At his side, the figure of Hyde cracks his knuckles in emphasis of the threat.

"No, this will be enough to light the fire under him," Sanderson mused as he took a sip of his warm, spiced cider. "I'm sure that he will not require any further initiative."

"Yes, boss," Floyd reluctantly replied, but still promised himself to keep an eye out for the filthy thief. Mundungus was a rat that even the rest of the underworld would touch with a ten-foot pole. But still, rats like Mundungus were useful as they went to filthy places no one else dared step in.

*

A hooded figure appears on the outskirts of an old manor in a thickly forested area. The manor is eerily silent despite being surrounded by woodland forest. The haughty domineer of the man can be seen in the man's long gait. Tall, the man easily strides through the halls to enter the great hall of the manor.

Sitting in the throne-like room, the crimson-eyed figure with deathly pale skin glares at the kneeled figures before him. However unlike before his face had once more distorted as his nose was even flatter than before. The once round, oval pupils had become even thinner and now stretched the full length of the eye like snake pupils. Not quite there yet as the pupils were not as thin, but the changes were evident as his eyes were well on their way to resemble that of a snake.

"Dark Lord," the arrogant Death Eater said as he removed his hood to reveal an arrogant pale face. Corban Yaxley's long blond hair in a ponytail swung against his lower back. "I bring news, Milord."

"At last," Lord Voldemort impatiently said. "Tell me, Yaxley, what joyous news do you bring?"

"I am sorry to say, Milord, but the Holy Grail search has proved in vain. Even the most unorthodox of scholars agree that it is merely a muggle myth," Yaxley replied. "If not, Merlin himself would have taken it for himself." Clearly, that was not the answer Voldemort wanted as the room became icier.

"But I bring even better news, Dark Lord," Yaxley said with an evil grin.

"Go on," Voldemort said rather intrigued.

"The Goblins are holding an auction set for the 23rd of December," Yaxley proudly stated. "It will be the perfect time to steal the Philosopher's Stone," causing even Voldemort to sit up.

"Its existence can be confirmed?" Voldemort breathlessly said as his nostrils flared with emotion.

"I persuaded a goblin teller to give away the number of the vault," Yaxley sneered as he fondly stroked his wand as if recalling the torture that he inflicted upon the goblin, before obliviating the creature. He would have killed the foul creature too, but it would only serve as a determinant of his purpose. There was always a next time through.

Voldemort begins to chuckle as the rest of the Death Eaters follow his lead and begin to do as well. "Most Excellent, Yaxley, you've done well," Voldemort purred. "You shall be rewarded by being given the opportunity to prove yourself. Bring me the philosopher's stone."

"As you wish, Dark Lord," Yaxley said with a cold smile directed at the figure of Rabastan Lestrange amid the Death Eaters. Rabastan held the Dark Lord's favor for now, but soon that would change. He'd make sure that he would be the one to be so joyfully favored.

"You may choose who will accompany you," Voldemort graciously said as he ran his eyes over the eager Death Eaters.

Yaxley runs his eyes over the Death Eaters. Someone who would be of use but would not steal his thunder. After a few minutes, he finally says, "Jugson, Selwyn, and Travers."

All three Death Eaters step forward as Jugson eagerly grips his wand, while Selwyn in a cruel harsh voice says, "It will be an honor, Yaxley to serve our master with thee." Yaxley hides a smirk at seeing the obvious displeasure of Selwyn to be serving under him.

Tall, thin with a crown of bushy beard, Travers merely gazes down at him via his long sharp nose. "Shall we retire to another part of the manor to begin planning?" Travers said in a cool voice that countered his rough-looking appearance.

"Dark Lord with your permission, we shall depart from your presence," Yaxley said as he paused to wait for a response.

"Go," Voldemort dismissed them with a wave of his hand as the four Death Eaters depart from his view with Yaxley before them. Either way, his wishes were to be fulfilled one way or another. And that was all that truly mattered.