"Welco to Diagon Alley."
"Actually, the small alley behind Flourish and Blotts also provides an exit from Diagon Alley..."
Before he could finish speaking, Old Tom fled the scene as though his life depended on it.
The dark red brick wall flowed together like water, completely sealing The Leaky Cauldron from Diagon Alley.
The two brothers exchanged knowing smiles.
"Tommy, this place is bloody fascinating."
"Why don't you get yourself a wand?"
Surveying the bustling dieval-style streetscape and the wizard robes visible everywhere, Tiger displayed genuine interest, a flicker of anticipation for his future magical existence stirring within him.
"That thing's unreliable, Tiger."
"The magical world's filth have countless thods to investigate your activities through wands."
Click.
Tommy chambered his MP5 submachine gun before concealing it beneath his wool overcoat.
"Nothing's more dependable than this."
With his exceptional perceptive abilities, he functioned as sothing approaching a Legilincy master.
The malice and chaotic thoughts constantly radiating from their surroundings had fostered Tommy's disappointnt and wariness toward the magical world.
For him, only family and firearms warranted trust.
"Take this, Tiger."
A black revolver slid from his coat sleeve as Tommy smoothly passed it to Tiger.
"You'll need it."
"Naturally..."
Sensing occasional prying gazes from around them, Tiger discreetly pocketed the revolver.
"Where to now?"
"Gringotts—the magical world's bank."
"What?"
Tiger's brow furrowed deeply. He extracted the revolver—smaller than his palm—and spoke with deadly seriousness:
"Bloody hell, why didn't you ntion this earlier? You want robbing a bank with this? Are you taking the piss?"
"What's the difference between this and a water pistol?"
"No, Tiger!" Tommy rolled his eyes helplessly. "Don't underestimate the magical world's power."
The brothers walked side by side, voices lowered in conspiratorial whispers.
"I've already cased the joint. This bank's infinitely harder to crack than anything outside..."
Recalling Gringotts' protective chanisms, Tommy shook his head with genuine regret.
"Conventional thods won't suffice. Polly refuses to divulge more details, so whether this bank eventually bears the Shelby na depends entirely on you, lad."
Gang wealth accumulation relied upon violence and obscene profits.
But advancent required financial backing and legitimate enterprises—transitioning from black to white, or maintaining separate operations.
Tommy grasped this reality perfectly.
Consequently, any bank, regardless of location, held trendous appeal for him.
"When purchasing the dittany essence, Old Tom offered an excellent price. I've still got savings in Gringotts—they're yours now."
"However, I hope you'll study potions seriously. That stuff works miracles on gunshot wounds."
Speaking of this, Tommy seed to recall sothing, anticipation flickering in his misty, penetrating gaze. "I've heard there are potions that enable male pregnancy?"
Tiger's expression darkened. "Bloody hell, Tommy—don't expect researching that!"
During their conversation, the brothers reached a crossroads.
At the intersection's center stood a magnificent building distinct from surrounding architecture—crooked yet sohow imposing.
Tommy led Tiger into Gringotts...
Tiger's eyes narrowed slightly.
The platform before them towered impressively—even Tommy had to crane his neck upward, which irritated him considerably.
Venom was also clamouring to devour them.
Goblin magic tasted exquisite beyond asure to Venom—not to ntion their smooth, diminutive bodies.
"Take to Tommy Shelby's vault and provide a case through proper channels."
Without awaiting the platform goblin's questions, Tommy tossed up the key, his gaze carrying subtle murderous intent.
The malice within Gringotts was so concentrated it nauseated him.
These impeccably dressed goblins apparently regarded Gringotts' wealth as personal property, harbouring hostility toward every visitor.
After examining the key, the goblin regarded Tommy with expressionless features, speaking in gravelly tones:
"Three hundred Galleons."
"Acceptable."
Obvious highway robbery.
But Tommy remained unconcerned. He understood his brother—this establishnt would bear the Shelby na eventually.
Hearing this, the goblin's chicken-skin-like wrinkled features relaxed sowhat. It turned and bellowed:
"Griphook, escort our clients to the vault."
"Yes, sir."
A younger goblin carrying a case hurried forward, hastily straightening his dishevelled clothing before bowing with apparent deference.
"Clients, please follow ..."
The thunderous roar along the rails proved deafening.
Tommy's pallid complexion appeared ghastly, though fortunately Venom secured Tommy's body firmly to the crude mine cart from an angle Griphook couldn't observe.
Tiger, conversely, radiated indescribable joy and exhilaration throughout.
Perhaps childhood hormones influenced him. Having never experienced amusent parks, he found trendous fascination in this roller-coaster-like conveyance.
"Absolutely thrilling, Tommy!"
"Could our bank possibly feature—"
"Absolutely not! Ugh!"
Upon disembarking, Tommy imdiately doubled over, retching. Griphook seed to anticipate this reaction.
With a casual finger flick, the ground's vomit vanished completely. This nonchalant display made both Tiger and Tommy's eyes flash with barely perceptible gravity.
Griphook produced the key and opened their vault door. Golden gleaming piles t their gaze.
"Leave three hundred Galleons—take everything else. We're abandoning this vault. I don't trust these bastards."
Tommy spoke without reservation.
Goblin Griphook standing behind them kept his gaze downcast, displaying complete indifference.
Discrimination perated the magical world universally.
He'd endured far worse verbal abuse. Comparatively, Tommy's words seed almost polite.
Tiger wasted no ti, stepping forward to grab Galleons into the case.
Just then, Venom's slightly excited voice resonated in his mind.
[Hey, Tiger—listen carefully. There's a massive creature below with extraordinarily high life energy.]
[But I can sense it.]
[This creature's ancient—so old it's nearly dead. We can control it!]
Venom's voice grew increasingly animated.
[Once I completely record its genetic coding and assimilate its life energy...]
[You...]
[No! Us!]
[We can beco infinitely more powerful.]
Tiger's movents hesitated montarily.
Then he continued collecting Galleons as though nothing had occurred, his amber gaze deepening slightly.
[Are you certain you can control your offspring?]
This precisely explained his persistent reluctance regarding Venom's division. Beyond Venom's extre post-division weakness, no one understood better than him how unreliable and manic those symbiote spawn proved.
And no one knew better how pathetically Venom cowered when confronting these symbiote brats.
[?]
[Are you bloody joking?]
[Of course I can't control them.]
Venom brazenly proclaid.
Tiger's veins imdiately bulged. If not for that damned goblin at the entrance, he'd have dragged Venom out imdiately and beaten this idiot until it miscarried.
Probably sensing Tiger's murderous restlessness, Venom hastily began explaining.
[Tiger, this isn't symbiosis—it's parasitism. What I'm dividing is myself, not offspring.]
[Besides, only you can control us.]
[You are our King! This is absolute law!]
[No one can violate it!]
[Not even gods.]
[That creature won't perish. I'll use cellular biomimicry to rejuvenate it completely. Then I can devour ten chocolate beans in one bite!]
[Is that so?]
Tiger's expression grew more profound.
Grabbing the final handful of Galleons into the case, he straightened and strode rapidly toward the vault entrance.
[Do what you must, Venom.]
[YEAH!!!]
Accompanied by Venom's triumphant cheers, the battered mine cart resud motion, racing lightning-fast toward the surface.
Only a tar-like semi-liquid mass remained on the rails, writhing slowly...
The story isn't over...
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