The next morning, Eda got up early. She went alone to the owlery and sent out a letter.
Eda had contacted a wizard she'd met once at the Leaky Cauldron—someone who could help her find a buyer for the Acromantula venom.
The Leaky Cauldron was full of all sorts of people. As long as you paid attention, you could find talents from every trade there—private detectives, curse-breakers, bodyguards, thieves, or middlemen… If you looked carefully enough, you could find just about any profession you could imagine.
The barmaid wasn't just there for decoration; Eda had to talk to the guests too, to blend in and build connections.
As a girl well-versed in the art of fake smiles, Eda did quite well at the Leaky Cauldron. She'd gotten to know many wizards who seemed useless at first glance—but someday, those same "useless" people might provide her with unexpected help.
The wizard she sent the letter to was one of those people—a middleman named Scott Warren. Warren made his living buying and reselling goods, or acting as a broker between buyers and sellers. Naturally, he was the first person Eda thought of.
As for why she let Warren take a cut of the profit—it was simply because Eda couldn't be bothered with the hassle. She didn't want to expose herself either.
Acromantula venom was extremely valuable, and those fierce, dangerous spiders were strictly forbidden to breed or keep (Hagrid had broken the law again, apparently). So once Eda's venom reached the market, people would inevitably ask questions—where it came from, how she got it, who she got it from.
Rather than deal with all that herself, Eda decided to let Scott Warren handle the business. Leave professional work to professionals. Let him haggle with the buyers—she'd just wait for the gold to roll in.
As a professional who'd long operated in the gray areas of the wizarding world, Scott Warren knew that secrecy was part of his professional code. He wouldn't care where Eda's venom came from, or whether it was obtained legally or not—as long as it was genuine Acromantula venom, that was all that mattered.
Warren would also keep Eda's identity secret and never expose her personal information. That alone would save her a great deal of unnecessary trouble. For people like him, protecting a seller's identity was routine—it was also the foundation of their trade.
The profit earned from the price difference between buyer and seller was Warren's "hard-earned money." It was also his hush money—the payment that kept his mouth shut.
And if the money wasn't enough to keep him quiet, well, there were always other ways to make sure he stayed silent forever. After all, the dead were the best at keeping secrets.
Eda watched the owl spread its wings and soar into the sky. Only when it disappeared from her sight did she leave the owlery. She had full confidence that Warren would bring back good news soon—and that she'd be seeing a large pile of gold before long.
As for the chance that Warren might try to double-cross her?
Eda actually hoped he would. That way, she wouldn't just earn one fortune—she could sell the Acromantula venom again. Why wouldn't she enjoy that?
She really hoped Scott Warren had enough nerve to try pulling something, so she could experience a little taste of human greed and the cruelty of the world.
After leaving the owlery, Eda met up with the twins, and together they returned to the castle.
At breakfast in the Great Hall, Eda noticed Hermione was missing. Even after breakfast, she couldn't find her in the common room either. So, Eda and the twins cornered Ron and Harry to ask what was going on.
Fred and George, looking like a pair of gangsters, pinned Harry and Ron into the armchairs in the common room.
It was the Christmas holidays—there weren't many people around—so even if they talked about something private, no one would overhear.
"It was you three who stole the African tree-snake skin and the bicorn horn, wasn't it?" Eda asked, crossing one leg over the other as she sat across from Harry and Ron. Those two little brats had made her take the blame for several minutes, after all!
Under the "menacing" grip of the twins, Harry and Ron nodded honestly, admitting everything.
"Did the Polyjuice Potion taste good?" Eda asked with a teasing smile. "I bet the flavor is something you two will never forget for the rest of your lives, huh?"
Ron's face twisted in disgust, as if the memory of that nauseating taste had come rushing back to him. Harry, on the other hand, blurted out in surprise, "How do you know we were brewing Polyjuice Potion?"
George, who had an arm draped around Harry's shoulders, said casually, "Harry, before you even set foot in Hogwarts, Eda could tell one potion from another just by smell. She could probably brew Polyjuice with her eyes closed."
George's words were an exaggeration—but not by much. For Eda, brewing something like the Polyjuice Potion was child's play by now. Besides, there weren't many potions that required both African tree-snake skin and bicorn horn as ingredients. With a bit of deduction, the answer was obvious.
"So," Eda said, crossing her arms, "why don't you tell us what exactly you did with that Polyjuice Potion? We can trade information if you want."
Harry and Ron exchanged a glance, thought for a moment, and then started explaining everything that had happened the night before in the Slytherin common room—Harry doing most of the talking, while Ron filled in the details.
The night before, they had tried to trick Malfoy into revealing something—specifically, proof that he was the Heir of Slytherin.
But Malfoy ended up disappointing them. He wasn't the Heir at all, nor did he know who the real one was.
The only thing he knew was that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened fifty years ago, and that a Muggle-born student had died back then.
"He also said he hopes at least one person dies this time," Ron added after a pause, carefully choosing his words. "You… or Hermione. Preferably both of you together."
Eda didn't take Malfoy's curse to heart.
If it had been Lucius Malfoy who said something like that, she would've made a point of having a "friendly discussion" with Mr. Malfoy himself—but Draco Malfoy? He wasn't worth the effort.
"You two actually thought Malfoy was the Heir of Slytherin?" Fred said with a grin. "Just look at him—ha!"
George burst out laughing and added, "He's already brought enough shame to Slytherin's name! If he were that old snake's heir, Slytherin's coffin lid wouldn't stay shut!"
The twins finally let go of Harry and Ron, doubling over in laughter, clutching their stomachs. It had been a long time since they'd heard a joke that funny.
"What's so funny about that?!" Ron snapped, clearly angry at their mockery. "Think about it—Malfoy's the most anti–Muggle-born student in the entire school! It makes perfect sense for us to suspect him!"
Harry nodded quickly in agreement. "Yeah, he's always saying… always saying 'Mudblood' this and 'Mudblood' that. He's constantly picking on Muggle-borns!"
From Harry and Ron's point of view, their reasoning wasn't exactly wrong. The problem was that their perspective was far too narrow—they were blinded by their dislike of Malfoy, letting their resentment cloud their judgment.
"Ron, Harry," Eda said seriously, her tone steady and calm, "there are plenty of people in this school just like Malfoy. They despise Muggle-born students too. They discriminate against them, isolate them—but the only difference is, they don't say it out loud."
She paused, then added meaningfully, "Remember this: the dog that bites doesn't bark."
At Hogwarts, there were many pure-blood students. Only a small number—like the Weasleys, the Longbottoms, or the McMillans—were openly friendly toward Muggle-borns.
Some stayed neutral, neither befriending Muggle-borns nor bullying them; they simply kept their distance.
And as for the rest of the pure-blood students—the ones who thought like Malfoy—most of them were in Slytherin.
They'd been shaped by their parents and their family beliefs, which was exactly why so many of them had once followed Voldemort. They had been willing tools, used by him of their own accord.
The dog that bites doesn't bark. Families like the Malfoys, who only knew how to bark and posture, were nothing to fear.
What was truly terrifying were the killers hidden in the shadows—the ones who stayed quiet and waited for the perfect moment to strike.
One bite from them, and you'd fall into an endless abyss.
"Where's Hermione?" Eda asked again. "Why isn't she with you two?"
Harry and Ron fell silent. They didn't know whether they should tell Eda what had happened to Hermione.
This was Eda, after all—if she found out, how was Hermione supposed to face her afterward?
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