Harry Potter: The Golden Viper

0406 The Bar

Rumble—

After Bryan revealed his identity and the contact who introduced him, the Goat once again let out a chilling laugh. Amidst this piercing sound, the earth beneath their feet trembled. Behind the towering spruce, a vast expanse of land came alive in a most unsettling manner. The lush grass, gnarled trees, and twisting vines that had peacefully adorned the forest floor suddenly began to writhe and contort. Their movements were not gentle swaying, but rather a frenzied, almost sentient dance.

Then, as if an immensely powerful hand beneath the earth had grasped them, all the vegetation was pulled underground.

The ground continued to quake relentlessly, the tremors growing in intensity. From the depths of the newly formed pit, a two-story building entirely constructed of rotting wooden planks, "grew" out of the earth!

From the outside, this house looked even more terrifying than the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade. Behind the grease-stained, broken windows, countless ghostly shadows flickered, and faint wails of female ghosts could be heard. Under the decaying eaves hung rows of dried bats.

On the gable of the wooden house, a pumpkin vine clinging to the wall had produced a massive pumpkin. As if sensing life approaching, the pumpkin slowly rotated 180 degrees in mid-air. The whole gourd sprouted a grotesque mouth and ghostly eyes. Facing Bryan, its saw-toothed mouth dripped with glistening liquid, resembling saliva.

'Booorring...... just a toy to frighten children.'

Bryan just glanced at the pumpkin before losing interest. He leapt over the spruce and slowly approached. Instead of pushing open the door, he walked to a signboard standing next to it.

The signboard, like everything else associated with this place, exuded an aura of decay and malice. Its surface was covered in a thick layer of sickly green mold, giving it the appearance of rotting flesh. At the top, written in what appeared to be fresh blood, were the words:

"Soul Eater's Den!"

Below this gruesome title were posted approximately thirty commission requests. These were not the innocent job listings one might find in a village square, but rather a catalog of dangerous pursuits. Most of the commissions involved trading in materials that would make an ordinary wizard's blood run cold. There were requests for valuable parts from magical creatures, many of which were undoubtedly protected or endangered species. Others sought rare potion ingredients that could only be found in the depths of this primeval forest, ingredients whose uses were surely 'evil'.

There were also some bounties, asking for help in hunting down enemies.

Bryan's eyes scanned the board, but finding nothing that piqued his interest, he soon lost attention.

With a casual push, Bryan opened the door to Soul Eater's Home. The poorly maintained hinges protested loudly, emitting a high-pitched screech that set teeth on edge.

As the door swung open, it revealed an interior that opposed the expectations set by the building's exterior. The house, which appeared to be an inn, was actually more like a bar.

While from the outside, Soul Eater's Home had appeared to be a decaying two-story structure, the space within was far more expansive than seen from outside. The main hall stretched out before Bryan, was fairly spacious about the same size as Leaky Cauldron in London's wizarding district.

However, any similarities to that beloved wizarding pub ended there. Where the Leaky Cauldron was warm and inviting, Soul Eater's Home was a den of depravity and danger. The atmosphere inside was thick with a cocktail of odors so potent and noxious that it seemed almost solid.

The air was filled with various strange odors: the acrid smell of pipe tobacco, the scent of brewing potions, and the stench of rotting animal innards. These odors combined to create a miasma of toxicity that assaulted the senses. Anyone unfortunate enough to breathe this air for an extended period risked more than just discomfort; the complex mixture of magical residues and noxious fumes could potentially disrupt the flow of magic within a wizard's body, leading to disorientation, hallucinations, or even unconsciousness.

The lighting within the hall did little to improve the ambiance. Dim oil lamps flickered erratically, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to take on lives of their own. The inconsistent illumination made it difficult to focus on any one area for long, adding to the overall sense of unease and disorientation.

Despite the late hour and the remote location, the noisy hall was far from being empty. There were at least a fifty or so lawless individuals with diverse styles of dress. These dark wizards, in groups of two or three, went about their business—trading, arguing, drinking contests, boasting—more or less.

Small groups huddled together, engaged in hushed negotiations over rare and undoubtedly illegal magical artifacts. Others argued loudly, their hands never straying far from their wands as they disputed the terms of contracts or the division of ill-gotten gains.

In one corner, a rowdy drinking contest was underway, the participants drinking concoctions that sparked and smoked ominously. The winner of such a contest was likely to be the one who survived with the least permanent damage to their internal organs.

The moment Bryan opened the door and took his first step into the bar. The previously raucous tavern fell silent instantly. Inquisitive gazes turned towards the doorway, focusing on the figure wearing ordinary black robes but whose face was concealed by a vortex of magical energy.

Bryan frowned, not because he was the center of attention, but because the floor of this bar seemed like it hadn't been cleaned for centuries. The original color of the floorboards could no longer be seen, covered in a mixture of soil, leaves, bloodstains, and grease. These substances had accumulated on the floor like glue, stuck to his shoes.

After shaking off a large chunk of grime from his soles, Bryan adjusted his robes and walked calmly towards the bar counter.

Meanwhile, the customers in the hall continued to scrutinize Bryan. Their prying gazes were filled with malice, and among the whispers, there were laughing sneers.

"What would you like, Mr. Viper—"

The bartender was very tall, and a large crimson scar on his forehead, seemingly left by a burn, made him appear even more dangerous.

Evidently, he had also heard Bryan reveal his identity earlier in front of the Goat Head.

Without waiting for a response, the bartender continued, his tone leaving no room for argument:

"To enter the camp, you must spend at least ten Galleons. Otherwise, you're not welcome here."

The bartender stared coldly at Bryan as he slowly approached the counter, and spoke in a muffled voice.

Bryan heard the bartender's warning but paid no attention to it. His focus was drawn to a figure sitting on a three-legged stool by the back window, brewing a potion in a cauldron in front of him.

The figure hunched over a bubbling cauldron, his focus entirely on the concoction he was brewing. He was one of the few in the hall who had not been disturbed by Bryan's arrival, continuing his work with single-minded determination.

As Bryan's gaze settled on this potion brewer, he found himself unable to discern the man's age. This was not due to any magical spell, but rather because the wizard's entire face, including what remained of his hair, had been horrifically altered by what could only have been a backlash of dark magic.

His facial features were reduced to terrifying, dark red muscle tissue, and his lips seemed to have had a large chunk cut out, exposing black gums and the few remaining yellow teeth.

Of course, this wasn't what attracted Bryan's attention.

The potion brewing in front of this ugly wizard had a mother-of-pearl shine, with spiraling steam rising from the bubbling liquid.

A girl sat on the floor next to the three-legged stool, her body seemingly powerless as she leaned against the ugly wizard's leg.

The girl appeared to be in her late teens, perhaps eighteen or nineteen years old. Her long, chestnut hair cascaded down her back in smooth, shining waves, a stark contrast to the filth and decay that surrounded her. Even in this dimly lit, smoke-filled room, her beauty was undeniable. In fact, the dirty setting seemed to enhance her appeal, making her appear like a captured angel amidst a horde of demons.

The young woman's body was limp as she leaned heavily against the leg of the disfigured wizard cheeks pressed against his thigh. As she gazed up at the hideously deformed face of the potion brewer, her expression was one of utter adoration.

There was no fear in her eyes as she observed the nightmarish face above her. Instead, her gaze held a mixture of longing, devotion, and a desperate need to please. Only in the very depths of her clouded pupils could one detect the faintest glimmer of her true self – a tiny spark of terror and pleading, like a drowning person's last gasp before slipping beneath the waves.

"Oh, come on, baby!"

The potion in the cauldron had finally reached the right consistency. The ugly wizard excitedly scooped out a large amount with a wooden ladle. After sniffing it under his nose, he smacked his lips in satisfaction. Then, with a ferocious grin, he poured it all into the mouth of the girl, whose body contained not a trace of magical power.

"Mmm—"

This love potion was clearly spiked. The struggle in the girl's eyes instantly disappeared. She hugged the ugly wizard's leg, unconsciously making sounds filled with passionate heat.

"Hehehe—"

As the ugly wizard withdrew the ladle, he casually tore off one strap of the girl's floral print dress. Even in the yellow lamplight, a large expanse of skin was revealed, dazzling to the eye. About half of her chest was also exposed.

The ugly wizard's laughter was full of smugness. He tossed aside the wooden ladle, one hand cupping the girl's chin while the other claw-like hand reached to topple her—

"I advise you not to do that in front of me."

The rules of the underworld are generally similar. In such an environment, staring at someone for a long time is a blatant provocation. Except for the ugly wizard immersed in his own world, everyone else had noticed this behavior. They watched the scene with great interest, already anticipating what would happen next.

Only the bartender was unwilling to see this unfold. After Bryan spoke, he immediately warned him again,

"I must remind you, Viper, that anyone who has tried to cause trouble here has, without exception, become fertilizer for the pumpkin. Do you want to end up the same way?"

The bartender's harsh voice did not slow Bryan's steps. He walked steadily to the ugly wizard's side. The gaze behind his magical vortex lowered, glancing at the Muggle girl's hair and features, then settled on the still somewhat surprised face of the ugly wizard. He spoke calmly,

"Otherwise, I'll twist your head off and hang it on the tree outside."

"Are you trying to meddle in others's businesses?"

The ugly wizard's eyes widened, still somewhat stunned. But as he came to his senses, his voice carried obvious mockery and contempt, as if educating a young novice wizard who didn't understand the rules.

"You want to meddle in others's affairs?"

The ugly wizard withdrew his hand reaching for the girl. He stood up from the stool, grinning as he repeated his question, this time again with undisguised sarcasm,

"Who do you think you are? Oh, you're called Golden Viper. I've heard that name before. You have some reputation in the pits of Knockturn Alley, but this is Albania. This is the Soul Eater's Den. Your name might not carry as much weight here. Look behind you, oh, you little fool full of justice—"

The ugly wizard looked at Bryan with pity and said,

"I'll carve your brave but foolish deed on your skull and hang it on the front door as a warning to outsiders—"

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