Alex moved swiftly, eager to explore the rest of the rooms. The next door revealed a fully equipped kitchen. The countertops gleamed, and a ventilation system had been installed to handle cooking fumes. Despite its age, the space was spotless. Another door led to a bathroom that, like the kitchen, was immaculately clean and appeared unused.
Finally, Alex stepped into a bedroom. The layout was practical but comfortable. A fireplace dominated one wall, with neatly stacked firewood inside. Oddly, the inner walls of the fireplace were free of soot, as though it had never been lit. Beside the fireplace was a large bed, and against another wall stood several matching wooden cabinets. When Alex opened them, he found them filled with neatly folded sheets, quilts, and a variety of spare clothes.
Bookshelves lined another side of the room, most of them empty, save for a few dozen books and some old newspapers. At the center of the bookshelves was a solid wooden desk, its surface scattered with writing tools and stationery. Two neat stacks of parchment paper stood ready for use. Beside the desk was a wine cabinet and counter, both empty now, but their design hinted at the room's aristocratic past.
"This must've been a safe house for the Tefras family," Alex mused, taking in the room. "They clearly prepared for long-term hiding, maybe even a doomsday scenario. With all these supplies, you could stay here for years."
As he carefully searched the bedroom, something unusual caught his eye. Beneath the desk was a series of drawers and cabinets. When Alex opened one of the cabinets, he found a small safe inside. Unlike a standard Muggle combination safe, this one lacked dials or keypads. It had only a single handle, and its smooth surface gave no obvious hints.
Placing his hand on the safe, Alex closed his eyes and concentrated. A faint magical aura confirmed his suspicion—this was a magical safe.
"Interesting," Alex murmured, his curiosity piqued. He pulled out a small hammer, his trusty tool for situations like this, and began tapping lightly around the surface. A few moments later, glowing spell patterns revealed themselves, snaking across the safe's exterior.
His brow furrowed as he studied the intricate design. "This is way more complex than the protective charm at the entrance. Explosion-proof, waterproof, anti-magic—this thing's loaded with safeguards."
Alex sighed, weighing his options. "I could crack it, but that'll take time, and I don't have much. There's barely an hour left until dawn, and I still need to stage the scene upstairs."
Just as he was about to abandon the effort, something caught his eye. Examining the patterns closely, he noticed a detail that made him smile. "A bloodline lock, huh? Only someone with the right bloodline can open this. That makes things easier."
He straightened up and pulled a syringe from his bag, tossing it to Karkaroff. "Take this and get some blood from Torquil. You know how to use it."
Karkaroff caught the syringe and glared at it with barely concealed frustration. "Yes, Master," he replied through gritted teeth, muttering under his breath, 'As if I didn't learn after you made me practice on us.'
"Hurry up!" Alex snapped, ignoring Karkaroff's grumbling.
"Yes, Master," Karkaroff repeated, retreating upstairs. The four prisoners on the second floor were still unconscious, their bodies limp from exhaustion, pain, or mental strain. The sight of their battered forms made Karkaroff grimace, but he quickly drew a tube of blood from Torquil and hurried back downstairs.
Alex took the syringe, carefully smeared a few drops of blood on the safe, and then pulled out his wand. With a muttered incantation, the blood began to seep into the safe, vanishing into its surface. A soft click echoed as the lock disengaged.
"Finally," Alex said, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Half a year studying blood magic, and it's already paying off. Who knew it'd be this handy for lockpicking?"
He opened the safe to reveal two compartments. The top shelf held a key and a folded piece of paper, while the bottom shelf was filled with neat stacks of Gold Galleons. Alex's eyes gleamed as he counted them—one thousand Gold Galleons in total. "Not bad," he said with a satisfied grin, placing the coins into his enchanted pouch. "That's 1,600 Galleons tonight alone. Quite the haul."
Turning his attention to the items on the top shelf, Alex picked up the paper first. His excitement grew as he read it. "A land deed for Diagon Alley?" he exclaimed, his voice brimming with delight. "Now this is a jackpot!"
The unsigned title deed in Alex's hands was officially certified by the Ministry of Magic. As long as the deed remained in his possession, the house and even the land it pertained to would be recognized under magical law.
"I can't believe the joke I made with Ms. Primpernelle actually came true. This is a jackpot," Alex thought, a smirk forming on his face. "No wonder this thing needed such tight protection—it's an unsigned title deed."
Unsigned title deeds were extraordinarily rare. Alex had only come across mentions of them in the archives of pure-blood wizarding families. In the magical world, most wizards didn't bother with title deeds for their properties. Why would they, when all it took was a few powerful shielding spells to make a place virtually undetectable? Some even opted to buy or modify Muggle properties, blending into the non-magical world as needed.
However, in special wizarding areas like Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade, things were different. Every property in these bustling hubs had to be carefully documented, registered with the Ministry of Magic, and accompanied by an official title deed. Unsigned title deeds, though, were another level of rarity and complexity.
To convert a normal title deed into an unsigned one required a mountain of bureaucracy. It needed approval from a Ministry department head and a member of the Wizengamot, making them an expensive and cumbersome option. But their unique advantages made them valuable: anonymity and protection. They didn't just mask the owner's identity; they were magically binding. Not even the Ministry could breach a property with such a deed unless granted permission. In areas with strict real estate regulations, like Diagon Alley, such deeds ensured complete privacy.
Alex guessed that the Travers family patriarch, who held a high rank in the Wizengamot, had arranged for this one. It was likely intended as a failsafe—a secure hideout in case the family ever lost power or faced persecution, such as being targeted by the Ministry. Unlike the Fidelius Charm, which concealed the very existence of a location, unsigned deeds focused on obscuring ownership while still allowing the property to function within the public domain.
The downside, though, was its simplicity in transferring ownership. Whoever held the deed effectively owned the property. This feature, while convenient for transactions, made it risky if stolen or misplaced. For example, now that Alex had it in his hands, the property was automatically his.
Alex spread out the title deed and infused it with his magic. As his power seeped into the parchment, intricate magical runes flared to life, briefly glowing before fading. The deed recorded his magic signature, completing the transfer. "It's secure, but it's far too easy to lose ownership. If someone swiped this from me, it'd be a nightmare to sort out," Alex muttered, folding the deed carefully. "I'd better head to the Ministry and have it converted into an exclusive title deed when I get the chance."