Chapter 52: Defeated by Gold

In the Shetland Islands, Northern Sea, a sailboat that seemed to come straight from the 18th century slowly docked. Two Aurors, each holding an arm, escorted a wizard off the boat.

"Lucius Malfoy, your sentence is complete. You are now officially released from imprisonment," a black Auror announced, handing over a wand from a nearby wooden box. "This is your wand."

Lucius appeared to have aged a decade, his once lustrous light golden hair now dry and straw-like, his demeanor dull and slow to react. He belatedly took his wand.

The Aurors, accustomed to such reactions, patted his shoulder. "Behave yourself from now on, and don't come back. Oh, your family and friends are waiting over there."

Lucius glanced in the direction indicated by the Auror.

Narcissa stood there, dressed in a black suit, her appearance solemn and sad, her face paler and thinner but still expressionless.

Draco, holding his mother's hand, gazed at his father in shock, likely never having seen him in such a disheveled state.

Lucius gathered his spirits, attempting to compose himself. He straightened his hair and robe.

Come on, Lucius! You're out of that hellhole now, you can think of happy things!

But it was no use. It felt as though those creatures had permanently taken something from him.

Or perhaps the effects of that horrific torture had not yet faded. He felt waves of weakness emanating from deep within, and just standing dignifiedly, refraining from collapsing in tears, was all he could muster.

"Narcissa, Draco..." he approached his family, ready to embrace them, when suddenly he froze, staring at the person standing beside his wife.

"You! What are you doing here?!" Lucius shouted in shock and fear.

The man removed his hood, revealing a face that had haunted Lucius's nightmares for months.

Murphy Darkholme.

The villain who burned down his home!

The serpent who trapped him with despicable tricks!

Lucius had thought the Auror's reference to "friends" meant Goyle or Crabbe.

Curse the blind fools! How could Murphy Darkholme be considered a friend?

"Lucius, seems like you've had a tough time," Murphy commented mockingly.

Lucius clenched his wand, anger rising from his hollow chest, giving him a sense of strength, "Don't you think..."

"Alright, save the threats. Lucius, I'm here to talk."

Lucius felt as if he was choking on his words. He grabbed Narcissa's hand, "Narcissa, let's go!"

But Narcissa remained still, "Lucius, perhaps you should listen to what he has to say."

Lucius looked at his wife in disbelief, suspecting she was under an Imperius Curse.

Yet Narcissa's eyes were clear. If it were a curse, the caster would have to be incredibly powerful.

"Cissy, you?"

Narcissa patted her husband's shoulder, dispelling his doubts, "Just listen to him."

Still wary, Lucius pulled Draco closer and faced Murphy, "What do you want to say?"

"How about we walk a bit? It's crowded here."

Draco clutched his father's coat, glaring at Murphy, "If you dare hurt my dad, I'll make you regret it!"

Murphy chuckled, finding the eight-year-old somewhat cute. "Don't worry, your dad's safe, as long as he doesn't do anything foolish."

Draco attempted to swat away Murphy's hand, but Murphy had already withdrawn it.

After hesitating, Lucius mustered some courage, taking the wand Narcissa offered, "Fine, I want to hear what you have to say."

They walked along the rocky coastline to a hill, a seemingly long-abandoned lighthouse standing tall above.

"Alright, what is it?" Lucius, catching his breath and regaining some strength, asked.

"Lucius, do you like Galleons?"

"What?"

"I do. One of the great things about money is that it makes most things in the world measurable."

"Money can buy knowledge to make one wise, buy luxurious clothes to enhance one's charm, and even buy others' time and effort to accomplish more."

"True power is built on interests, and everything related to interests can be measured by money."

"So, money is power. It doesn't directly equal everything you want, but it can pave the way for your desires. That's why I like money, I like Galleons."

"The world hustles for profit, and everyone struggles for their own interests. Robbing a man of his wealth is like killing his parents, so when you suddenly attacked my factory, trying to cut off my path to making money, I was bound to see you as an enemy and remove you promptly."

Murphy was spinning a tale again, this time in a version Lucius could understand.

"You admit it! Your factory, you sold potions..."

"To non-magicals? Yes, I admit it," Murphy said, amused. "Are we still arguing about this? Did you lose because of lack of evidence, Lucius? Haven't you realized yet how you lost?"

"Do you know how much I spent to win that lawsuit, Lucius? A hundred thousand Galleons! And that's not counting the annual donations to the Ministry of Magic!"

"A hundred thousand Galleons! How much did you spend? A thousand? Ten thousand? Tell me, how could I lose? How could you win?"

Lucius was stunned.

He felt bewildered.

Using money to pave the way, wasn't that a Malfoy specialty?

Now, someone had beaten him at his own game!

Defeated by magic with magic, defeated by gold with gold!

How the tables have turned!

He felt a profound sense of defeat, even more intense than losing in court.

He realized Murphy didn't win by some cunning trick or sheer luck but by using a technique far more proficient than his own, spending a much greater cost, and straightforwardly defeating him (allegedly).

At that moment, Lucius understood with a sense of powerlessness.

He had only thought about the confiscated evidence, the disrupted trial rhythm, believing if he were a bit more cautious, a bit luckier, he could win next time.

But Murphy told him the real reason for his failure: not spending enough money.

A reason he could accept too well! Could he spend a hundred thousand Galleons for a single trial? No! Even if he could, the other side could just spend more.

And did he have more money than Murphy? No!

So, he couldn't win! Never!