Chapter 245

“Good… good.”

A few outlandish ideas flashed through Professor Quirrell’s mind, yet he asked nothing, merely carefully stowing the items in a box, masking a hint of concern in his tone.

He was shallow in knowledge and could not understand what it was, but how could such a snack possibly compete with that trick shop?

As he spoke, Diagon Alley remained bustling with wizards, none noticing the conversation here.

“Professor, you’ve gone quiet.”

En looked up and said.

“Oh oh—”

Professor Quirrell snapped back to attention and handed En a contract.

“Mr. Green, please review: the shop at 77 Diagon Alley has an annual rent of five hundred Jin Jin Jialong.”

Upon hearing this figure, En nodded—it was even lower than he’d expected.

This was the largest wizarding commercial street in Britain, where rents ranging from a few hundred to a thousand Jin Jin Jialong were perfectly normal.

The trick shop’s rent was seven hundred Jin Jin Jialong. Compared to that, this rent was even cheaper—though he couldn’t tell why.

Perhaps it was too dilapidated.

En took the magical contract but did not sign his name immediately; instead, he released a paper airplane and waited for his teacher.

After all, even the utmost caution was not excessive when dealing with a magical contract.

En gazed at the De Fan Clothing Store, where Professor McGonagall’s stern features had softened slightly as she chatted with the shop owner, whose golden hair was combed immaculately.

He exhaled slightly—this matter’s management had gone through some turbulence.

In the end, Professor Taila had convinced Professor McGonagall with, “I haven’t had a student in seventy years,” and “It is tradition in the Alchemy World for a master to guard his student’s alchemy workshop.”

Soon, Professor Taila, having received En’s message, would arrive.

Before then, En had another necessary task to complete.

He pulled out a contract and handed it to Quirrell.

“Professor, please take a look.”

Professor Quirrell took the contract with a hint of confusion.

The words “compensation” on it stung his eyes painfully.

He hadn’t done anything with compensation in a long time.

The last time, he had even “given away” his entire fortune.

“Annual salary of one thousand five hundred Jin Jin Jialong—this, this is too much!”

Professor Quirrell shuddered.

“N-no, I don’t need such things, Mr. Green. Quirrell is no ungrateful wretch… at least not the Quirrell of now… Such compensation could hire far too many wizards…”

He had never expected compensation; even just now, when En mentioned their merchandise, he had already prepared himself for a meager operation.

His body was slowly recovering; with his abilities, covering a year’s rent and operating costs would be no difficulty.

Yet seeing such a high compensation so suddenly, he was filled with dread—could their shop even earn it back?

The contract glimmered in the sunlight, its contents detailed yet simple.

The principal, En, was obligated to pay the agent, Quirrell, one thousand five hundred Jin Jin Jialong annually, and to provide the agent with certain potions;

the agent, Quirrell, was obligated to resolutely protect the principal’s interests, keep the principal’s secrets, assist in managing the business, and refrain from concealment, deception, and so on…

In short, it was fair to both sides: the principal paid a high compensation, while the agent offered true loyalty.

“The only wizard best suited for this task, I know of only one—Professor.”

En said.

Facing En’s sincere request, Quirrell’s eyes reddened.

He had… not received such treatment in a very long time…

Diagon Alley was alive with voices; the rainy season had just ended, clouds gathered from all directions, and shafts of sunlight pierced through the sky.

He had many choices now—no death, no fear—he could do anything, go anywhere.

He stood at the crossroads for a long time, yet never signed a contract based on its demands—he didn’t need to know.

“Professor, you haven’t read the further requirements…”

En said in surprise.

“Oh oh, that’s unnecessary, Mr. Green.”

Because no contract could demand more loyalty from him.

A brief silence settled over the air.

Professor Quirrell stared at the dilapidated shop, deeply troubled.

Moments later, a swift-moving figure appeared not far from the shop.

“My student, a decent choice of location.”

Professor Taila approached from afar, first crouching beside En, then carefully examining the magical contract and nodding to him.

“Professor Quirrell, what a surprise to see you here.”

Soon, Professor Taila began chatting casually with Professor Quirrell.

Though called casual, neither of their gazes strayed far from En.

“What name are you planning for your alchemy workshop?”

Professor Taila suddenly turned and asked.

“Fairy Tale Shop, Professor.”

En thought for a moment and replied.

“I should have guessed.”

The professor ruffled En’s hair and quickly departed in haste.

En soon bid farewell to Professor Quirrell and returned to the De Fan Clothing Store.

At this point, Professor McGonagall seemed to have just finished her shopping trip, pulling En along to buy more gifts.

…

At the entrance to Diagon Alley, En and Professor McGonagall carried bags upon bags; then the professor waved her wand, and they transformed into a series of small objects.

“Apparition makes one uncomfortable. Have something to drink, child.”

Professor McGonagall said.

En nodded and waved his wand; a potion floated out of the bag—one of Professor Snape’s many potions, effective at counteracting discomfort.

As the light and shadows twisted before his eyes, En arrived amid rolling hills and fertile grasslands.

At the forefront stood a crooked, multi-story house, its red roof sporting four or five chimneys—clearly defying science.

But it was very magical. After all, this was a magical-built cottage.

Below the cottage stood a short, stout, rounded woman, her bright blue eyes warm and kind.

“Professor McGonagall, I’m so glad you brought this child to us!”

Mrs. Wei Wei Silai sincerely thanked Professor McGonagall.

“Come along, dear, I heard you’re quite interested in our old, shabby house—perfect! You have a week to get to know it…”

Mrs. Wei Wei Silai took En’s hand and walked off, completely unaware of the fleeting, unusual look Professor McGonagall cast behind her.

“Goodbye, Professor.”

En said.

“Next week, I’ll come to pick you up. Ma Ma Kusi wants you to know—he’s missed you terribly.”

Professor McGonagall vanished.

The Burrow was large.

A sign leaned crookedly in front of the house, reading “The Burrow.”

Then came a hodgepodge of rooms forming a lopsided house.

Behind it stood a crumbling little stone shed, where brooms flickered in and out of view.