As evening descended, the mottled hues of the sunset painted the sky, casting a golden glow over the city. The buildings along the street were slowly swallowed by the encroaching darkness, but the streetlights soon flickered to life, rescuing them from obscurity.
David sat on the balcony of his inn, a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. He took a slow sip, his eyes scanning the street below. Across from him, a man loitered near a shop, occasionally leaning against a streetlamp. It was evident he was keeping an eye on David's room. No matter where he stood, he made sure to be visible.
With a quiet sigh, David placed his cup on the table. Since returning from Charles Street, he had ventured out two or three times under various pretenses, even crossing paths with Newt and the others. However, he had refrained from acknowledging them, aware that his every move was being tracked.
A man had taken residence next to his room, tailing him the moment he stepped outside. Another one loitered downstairs, feigning casual indifference but never losing sight of David. It was a complete surveillance operation.
This can't go on, David thought. If they continued monitoring him so closely, not only would it be impossible to pass information to Newt, but they might also start suspecting him. He leaned back in his chair, contemplating his next move.
At length, he stood and tapped his wand lightly against the empty coffee cup. A small tornado swept through, leaving it spotless. Taking his hat from the hanger, he pressed it low over his forehead, concealing his expression, then opened the door and stepped into the corridor.
A soft click echoed behind him. They were following.
Pretending not to notice, David descended the stairs. The inn's common area buzzed with early evening activity. Guests filled most of the tables, save for a few vacant spots. At the far end, a small wizard with a thin mustache sat, stealing glances at David. If it weren't for the lingering sense of unease, David might not have noticed him.
He continued outside, weaving through the bustling marketplace, inspecting stalls with feigned interest. The three men shadowed him, their presence unmistakable.
David's lips curled into a small smirk. He spotted a narrow alley ahead, dimly lit by two flickering lamps. As he passed, he made a sharp turn, vanishing into the shadows.
Moments later, hurried footsteps followed.
"Where did he go?" one of them whispered urgently.
"I saw him turn in here," another answered. "Spread out and search carefully."
As they moved deeper into the alley, David acted swiftly. A flick of his wand, a silent step—
"Who's there?!" the mustached man yelped.
"Don't move." David's voice was calm, his wand pressed against the back of the man's head.
The mustached man stiffened. "Wait! We're friends!"
David chuckled. "Friends don't stalk each other."
From the corner of his eye, he noticed the other two reaching for their wands. He spoke coldly, "Shall we test who acts faster? I guarantee I'll split his skull before either of you casts a spell."
They froze.
"We were sent from 115 Charles Street," the mustached man explained hastily.
David knew that already.
"Charles sent you?" he asked, his tone skeptical. "This is how he treats his so-called 'friends'?"
"No, sir," the man said quickly. "We're here to protect you."
David snorted. "Protect me? From what?"
The mustached man hesitated before admitting, "Well... it doesn't seem like you need it."
"Exactly. So why are you still following me?"
"We'll inform the boss that you don't require our protection," the man said nervously.
"Good." David took a step back. "Then leave. Or do you need a lesson in Apparition?"
"Of course not, sir." The mustached man reached into his robe.
David's grip tightened. "Careful."
"Just a letter," the man assured him, slowly pulling out an envelope identical to the one David had received earlier. "From the boss. He wants you to open it."
David eyed the envelope warily. "Throw it in the air. If it doesn't hit the ground, I'll take it. If it does—well, I don't think you'll like the outcome."
The mustached man gulped, then tossed the letter upward. As it hovered mid-air, he and his men vanished with three sharp pops.
David watched the envelope for a moment before catching it. He felt nothing unusual, so he slipped it into his bag and made his way back to the inn. With the surveillance lifted, he finally felt a sense of relief.
115 Charles Street
Pavel Charles lounged in the living room of his lavish estate, clad in black silk pajamas, absentmindedly feeding colorful fish in a tank. The old woman David had seen earlier dozed nearby on the sofa.
A sharp knock at the door. The mustached man entered and bowed. "Boss, he found us."
Pavel barely glanced at him. "Did he take the letter?"
"Yes."
"Then it's fine. No need to follow him anymore."
The mustached man hesitated. "But... what if he's the intruder?"
Pavel smirked, dropping the fish food. "If he is, he'll make a mistake soon enough."
He turned to the old woman, speaking gently. "Grandma Lysa, it's time to go."
She stirred, blinking groggily. "Again? I just started fixing up the garden."
Pavel chuckled. "Business is unpredictable. Don't worry, the new place has a garden too."
Lysa sighed but rose. With a wave of her hand, a trunk flew open, neatly packing itself with books and trinkets from the study.
Outside, the sound of hooves echoed, though no horses were in sight. A sleek black carriage awaited them. Pavel adjusted his elegant coat, took Lysa's arm, and led her outside, the floating trunks trailing behind them.