Wright stood on the bustling street, glancing at the letter in his hand before looking up at the top of Budapest's Chain Bridge, his expression one of utter confusion.
He carried a massive black suitcase, fitted with omni-directional wheels. It looked deceptively light, but thanks to an Undetectable Extension Charm, it was a portable warehouse stuffed with over a dozen enchanted mirrors, raw materials for smaller mirrors, and components for modifying the Floo Network. All he needed was to meet with the right people at the Ministry and get to work!
As the second-in-command of the Mirror Club and the chief engineer behind the invention and improvement of enchanted mirrors, Wright Monkstanley had set out with nearly his entire fortune. Unable to travel through conventional means due to his restricted luggage, he'd relied on Borgin's underground Portkey channels, crossing half of Europe to arrive alone in Budapest.
According to the instructions in Levent's letter, he was supposed to meet with the head of the Romanian Ministry's Department of Magical Transportation.
Which brought up a glaring issue:
How was he supposed to connect with a Romanian wizard in Budapest, Hungary?
"Damn you, Melvin Ryan Levent! Can't even write a clear letter—one sentence about Romania, the next about Budapest. Who knows what you're on about? And this guy's a Hogwarts professor? McGonagall will have him sacked in no time!"
Wright grumbled, eyeing the stream of people and vehicles with growing frustration.
There were a few shops along the street with traces of magic, and with plenty of funds in his pocket, he could easily buy something and fish for information. But Wright, a regular at the Leaky Cauldron, had heard tales of Budapest's reputation—a haven for wizarding purist remnants, a hub for underground trade, crawling with wanted dark wizards…
He worried that acting rashly might land him in a shady shop or a trap.
"Mr. Monkstanley, Mr. Monkstanley…" a voice called from nearby.
It could be someone Melvin sent to meet him—or it could be a trap, someone who'd sniffed out his name through magic to lure him in. Wright turned to glance at the speaker, an elderly wizard with a kindly face, and decided to observe for thirty more seconds.
"Mr. Monkstanley?" The old wizard noticed his gaze, locking eyes with him, his voice growing more confident. "Mr. Monkstanley from the Mirror Club?"
At the mention of the Mirror Club, Wright nearly burst into tears of relief, dropping his guard and hurrying over.
"I'm Abernathy, a friend of Professor Levent's. He's off camping in the Carpathians and won't be back for a while," the old wizard said with a warm, friendly smile. "Come with me. Your lodging's all arranged. The professor asked me to tell you to focus on setting up the club's framework here first. No rush on the Floo Network."
Wright followed, his head spinning.
As it turned out, this was a trap—a trap set by Melvin!
For the next two weeks, Wright, the Mirror Club's second-in-command, barely had a moment to breathe. He had no idea how Melvin had managed to strike a deal with these wizarding purist remnants, but he watched in disbelief as the dozen mirrors intended for Romania were snapped up by these old wizards.
Tens of thousands of Galleons changed hands without so much as a haggle.
When it came to signing the Mirror Club's contracts, the old wizards barely hesitated, agreeing so quickly it was almost alarming.
In less than two weeks, enchanted mirrors were rolled out across Budapest's outskirts. Wright's specially charmed suitcase was left with several empty compartments, the cold, lifeless mirrors traded for piles of warm, gleaming Galleons.
…
Eight o'clock in the evening, on the west bank of the Danube.
A middle-aged wizarding couple strolled along the riverside path, dressed in elegant, Muggle-inspired wizard robes, each holding the hand of a child—a boy and a girl—the picture of a classic pure-blood family. They'd come to Romania during the summer holidays to see dragons and were stopping in Budapest for a bit of sightseeing before heading home.
Not far ahead, raucous cheers spilled from a tavern by the bridge, the unusual noise catching the family's attention. The parents slowed their pace, and the siblings exchanged a glance before edging closer.
"Krum! Krum!"
The cheers grew clearer.
At the sound of the name, the sister's eyes lit up, and she tugged at her brother's sleeve.
The little boy, catching on, looked up with wide eyes and asked in a sweet, childish voice, "Mummy, what's going on in there?"
"Krum? Isn't that the prodigy player from Durmstrang?" the mother said.
She tilted her head, listening for a few seconds as the cheers continued, her expression growing skeptical. "They wouldn't be holding an indoor Quidditch match in there, would they?"
As everyone knew, Quidditch pitches were always outdoors, and matches in bad weather were often the most thrilling.
The sister, her eyes sparkling, tugged at her father's sleeve again. The father, unmoved, refused to be swayed—he wasn't that much of a pushover for his daughter, and he'd only follow his wife's lead.
"A round of brandy for everyone! On me!" came a shout from inside.
The cheers grew even louder, the air at the tavern door practically vibrating. If it weren't for the Muggle-Repelling Charms, the authorities would've been knocking by now.
The father swallowed hard. Though their family was comfortably well-off, pub drinking was usually off-limits. He hadn't yet tried Budapest's famous brandy… and if someone else was paying, there was no reason to say no, right?
Catching her husband's and children's expressions, the mother sighed, half-amused, half-exasperated, and gave her husband a playful swat. "Fine, let's go take a look. Keep an eye on your daughter—no drinking, not even Butterbeer!"
"Yes, ma'am!" the father replied with a grin.
Their leisurely walk paused as the family was drawn into the tavern by the infectious cheers.
Inside, it wasn't the indoor Quidditch match they'd imagined. There was no sprawling pitch, no players, no broomsticks—just a massive, silvery, transparent mirror.
A third-year Durmstrang girl stared at it for a few minutes before grabbing her father's wrist in excitement. "It's Krum's match! The Bulgarian National Team's youth training match—look! That's the brand-new Nimbus 2001!"
"Ow…" the father hissed, wincing in pain.
What little fondness he had for Krum was evaporating fast.
A shrill whistle sounded from the mirror. As he looked up, he just missed a scoring play. The father sighed in disappointment, but then the mirror's image froze, rewinding like a Time-Turner to replay the moment.
The commentator's voice echoed through the tavern: "Krum suddenly accelerates, disrupting their defense! Another goal for the national youth team—Krum!"
"Krum!"
"Ow…"
The father gasped again, not from pain this time but from awe. The roaring cheers filled the tavern, quickening his pulse and igniting his excitement. Even someone like him, who wasn't much of a Quidditch fan, could feel the thrill of the game.
This enchanted mirror seemed to hold some kind of magic.
"Eyes on me, everyone!" a wizard at the bar banged his glass loudly. "I've got an announcement! A round of pear brandy for everyone—on me!"
"Long live Krum!!"
This time, the father joined the cheering crowd.
A sweet, enticing glass of brandy was placed before him. He downed half of it in one go, meeting his wife's gaze with righteous defiance. "It's free!"
As the couple faced off, they didn't notice their daughter staring at the mirror, her eyes unblinking, her mind consumed by a single thought—
I want to take this mirror home!