The air was dead silent.
From the moment he entered, William's gaze was like a dagger, locked fiercely onto the gray-robed figure in the room—
"Ashwinder Gang"—he was certain this gang had no remnants... Those ambitious madmen—had been completely eradicated by him a hundred years ago, Victor Rookwood had been personally sent to hell by him with the Killing Curse, then turned to dust. The existing Rookwood clan was only left with a branch far away in America.
During his time at Ilvermorny, he investigated the family that had already changed its last name to Connor and took the opportunity to see Charles Rookwood's portrait.
This guardian of ancient magic had sworn to William using the family name that none of his descendants had engaged, nor ever would engage, in the realm of Dark Arts—as he said, the control would be even stricter than at Hogwarts. These old fellows valued the family more than their own lives, especially since Charles was a Guardian, so with what he said, the Connor family was cleared of suspicion.
So, the question arose—
From which grave did the damn thing in front of him crawl out?
Or did it just happen to use the same insignia? But... was it really possible for such a coincidence, where even the patterns on the snake matched?
These things were just like the Ashwinder, born from the magic fire out of thin air...
"...How long do you plan to stand there?"
The gray-robed man—or should I say, the pharmacist—perhaps couldn't withstand the eerie atmosphere, or perhaps had just realized a group was standing at his door—finally stopped his work, putting the separated shells and membranes into two different bottles, and slowly raised his head.
This time, it became clear that the man's greasy hair would make even Snape avoid him. The clumped hair hung down, covering his face, revealing just a deeply sunken, scrutinizing gray eye.
His gaze swept over the mask covering William's face like a snake's tongue, then shifted sideways to the group standing behind William, and finally landed on the badge at William's waist, symbolizing "Blood Claw Team Leader," "Put the empty bottles in the basket and fill out a form—then scram."
The man's voice was like the sound of sandpaper scraping rock. He waved a magic wand, and with the jingling sound, a vine basket full of glass bottles slowly crawled out from a dark corner, stopping in the middle of the room, putting away its conjured limbs, obediently lying on the ground.
Under William's control, Raz, who was under the Imperio curse, naturally stepped forward, fished out a few glass bottles from his waist pouch, and placed them in the basket.
Meanwhile, William's gaze was fixed on the wooden rack behind the man—armadillo bile, belladonna, black beetle eyeballs and membranes, bindi seed... these were materials William recognized, whereas others seemed excessively peculiar or unidentifiable—like a jar of yellow powder—
At that moment, Raz had already obtained new magic potions—what? You ask about the old ones...
Ahem, William took the bottle Raz handed over and unhesitatingly pulled off the stopper, bringing it to the mask's nose to sniff—"What are these things made of?" William's voice was disguised as hoarse, with just the right amount of urgency and self-satisfaction.
"Wolves with too much curiosity are the easiest to fall into traps."
The pharmacist's voice remained calm, seemingly suggesting William wasn't the only curious one. He gently laid down the bone knife, which produced a crisp "tock" upon colliding with the stone table, perhaps not a warning, but the atmosphere seemed to change—but William pretended not to notice, and likely Crawford Leighton wouldn't notice either.
"This is too troublesome, coming here every time is inefficient—Ahem, I mean, I recently met a Master of Magic Potions—"
"Take your stuff and scram."
"From Hogwarts, British fellow named Severus Snape—you're a pharmacist too, do you know him?"
"..."
"Oh, seems you don't know him. You wouldn't believe it, that bastard is downright—born bad seed, you know what born bad seed means?"
William never missed an opportunity to defame Snape, even if the man wasn't present, "But he's really good at making potions—" William took out a small, golden bottle from Kabuda's arms, "See this? Felix Felicis—" As he spoke, he handed the bottle of Felix Felicis over.
At this point, the pharmacist, seemingly silent since hearing "Hogwarts," instinctively reached out to take—
"Hey, wait—did you wash your hands?"
William stuffed the glittering bottle back into his pocket, "Forget it, no point showing you, give me the potion formula instead, and I'll go directly to him for it, so your output doesn't fall behind our dragon-catching speed—you know the last time an Antipodean Opaleye escaped right in front of me?"
"..."
"Not agreeing? How about you name a price? I have—"
"How did you get in contact with Hogwarts people?" The pharmacist suddenly spoke, interrupting William's prepared speech, he squinted that exposed gray eye, "Poachers have long been banned in Great Britain—"
"Yes, because of that damn rule, everything has to be sneaky—so, who's actually on that island? I caught three Black Dragons in Hebrides, but didn't see anyone descend from the sky to take my head?"
William reacted swiftly, waving quickly and speaking brashly in a coarse voice.
"Never heard of William Richard?"
The pharmacist asked instinctively, his raspy voice showing a rare hint of surprise.
"You mean the Man Slaughter? I should avoid him?"
William patted his chest forcefully, controlling his proud tone perfectly, "My team—look, each one is top-notch, they just took down a Ukrainian Ironbelly—that beast must have been at least twenty meters tall..."
"So,"
The pharmacist interrupted William again, "You're saying you not only went to Hebrides to catch several Black Dragons, but also contacted Hogwarts' professor—and ended up surviving?" At the end, the perplexity in his eyes was almost tangible—he began to look at the man before him with a questioning stare.
"..."
Did the conversation just blow up?
William suddenly realized something.
Is my infamous reputation really this notable?
William Richard the Man Slaughter now suddenly began to wonder about the image he held in the minds of these poachers.