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Chapter 8

  The news of Reinhardt's visit to Gringotts spread through the Wizarding World like wildfire. By that evening, the Daily Prophet's front page screamed in massive, enchanted silver ink: "THE DRAGON AWAKENS: HEIR TO HOUSE SYLVERON RETURNS!" Even The Quibbler ran a story, though they claimed the Sylverons had been living in a secret city beneath the North Pole.

  The shockwaves were felt in every corner of magical Britain. For the Black, Greengrass, and Bones families, there was a glimmer of hope; they remembered the ancient alliances of the past. But for others, the news was a death knell.

  The Malfoy Manor - Panic and Plots

  Inside the opulent Malfoy Manor, the atmosphere was far from celebratory. Lucius Malfoy was pacing his study, his face as pale as a ghost, clutching a ledger that dated back centuries.

  "20 million..." Lucius whispered, his hands trembling. "A debt of 20 million Galleons to the Sylveron estate. Interest included, it could bankrupt us."

  His wife, Evelyn Malfoy (née Selwyn), entered the room followed by a young Draco. Seeing her husband's state, she demanded to know what was wrong. When Lucius explained the ancient debt—a loan taken during a time when the Malfoy line almost went extinct—Evelyn's eyes narrowed.

  "We cannot pay that in gold," Evelyn said coldly. "We would lose 40% of our entire fortune. We need to offer something of 'equal value' to satisfy the blood debt."

  She turned her gaze toward a corner of the room where a woman in tattered, filthy rags was scrubbing the floor. It was Narcissa Black, or what was left of her. In this timeline, the Malfoys and Selwyns had stripped the Black family of their dignity, using Narcissa as little more than a house-elf after seizing what they could of the Black influence.

  "Her," Evelyn pointed with a sharp, manicured nail. "Complete ownership. A marriage contract. We give the Sylveron heir a daughter of the Most Ancient House of Black. It fulfills the 'value' requirement and, more importantly, it gets rid of the evidence of how we treated the Blacks before the Sylverons—who were their greatest allies—can come looking for revenge."

  Lucius wiped the sweat from his brow. He looked at the broken Narcissa and then at the looming threat of the Sylveron wealth. "You're right. If Lord Arcturus Black dies and the Sylveron Heir takes over the alliance, they will destroy us for what we've done to her. Giving her to him as a 'gift' settles the debt and secures a peace treaty."

  With a shaky hand, Lucius sat at his desk and began to write a letter, his quill scratching frantically against the parchment.

  Back at Sylveron Mansion

  Reinhardt was sitting in a newly repaired armchair, petting Fennekin, while the System's HUD hovered in front of him.

  [Host,] Wifey chirped, her digital voice sounding amused. [You've caused a massive spike in the 'Chaos Meter.' The Daily Prophet is calling you the 'Silver Prince' and I'm detecting several owls approaching with very expensive-looking seals. One of them smells like... fear and expensive cologne.]

  Reinhardt smirked. "That would be the Malfoys. They realized the bank owner just walked back into town, and they've forgotten to pay their rent for a few centuries."

  [Are you going to read the letter, or should we get to those 510 Gacha pulls first?] the System asked, the "Wife" tab on the status screen flashing a tiny, mischievous light.

  "Let's see what Lucius is offering first," Reinhardt replied as a large, screeching eagle owl tapped on the window. "Then, we pull. I want to see if I can get something even better than a debt-collector's apology."

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  The Wizarding World was no longer just buzzing—it was screaming.

  At 12 Grimmauld Place, the air was thick with the smell of old parchment and ancestral rage. The house-elf Kreacher scurried into the drawing room, his large eyes wide with a manic sort of glee. He held the Daily Prophet high above his head.

  "Master! Masters of the wall!" Kreacher croaked. "The House of Sylveron! It is back! The Silver Dragons have returned to the light!"

  The portraits of the Black ancestors, usually busy insulting each other, fell into a stunned, heavy silence. Then, a cacophony of laughter and cheers erupted. Phineas Nigellus Black cackled from his frame, his eyes sharp.

  "The old comrades!" he roared. "The only family with enough gold and guts to look a Black in the eye and not blink! Kreacher, contact Arcturus Black immediately. Tell him he is needed at Grimmauld Place. The alliance must be reforged!"

  Cygnus Black III looked on with a grim, hopeful expression. "Finally... we can get Narcissa back. And Bellatrix... we have to find where those scavengers hid her." His voice turned to a low growl. "I want to make Lucius Malfoy bleed for what he did—treating a daughter of the House of Black lower than a common elf."

  "If it wasn't for Walburga's quick thinking before she passed," another portrait added, "we would have lost everything to those vultures. We saved half the wealth, but we need the Sylveron power to take back the rest."

  The "Silver Prince" Effect

  While the old lords plotted war, the female population of Magical Britain was experiencing a very different kind of "shock."

  The photo in the Daily Prophet showed Reinhardt walking out of Gringotts—his silver hair glowing, his eyes cold and regal, and the tiny Fennekin on his shoulder. He looked like a literal prince stepped out of a fairy tale.

  Amelia Bones dropped her monocle into her tea.

  Minerva McGonagall—who looked less like a stern grandmother and more like a devastatingly beautiful war goddess (resembling the legendary Hera)—actually blushed, her heart fluttering in a way it hadn't since her youth.

  Little Daphne Greengrass and Cassandra Vole stared at the moving photo with hearts in their eyes, already claiming him as their "future husband."

  Molly Weasley clutched her heart at the Burrow. "Oh, the poor dear! Living all alone in that big house! I just want to pinch those adorable cheeks and feed him a proper roast!"

  The Malfoy Summoning

  Back at the Sylveron Mansion, Reinhardt sat at a mahogany desk while Eldric brought him a letter sealed with the Malfoy crest.

  [Host,] the System chimed, appearing as a tiny chibi version of herself on his shoulder. [The blonde peacock is begging for an audience. He's offering a 'meeting of reconciliation' to discuss the... ahem... 20 million Galleon problem.]

  Reinhardt scanned the letter with his Perfect Mind. He didn't know about the Black family's situation yet, nor did he know about the "gift" Lucius was planning to offer. To him, the Malfoys were just a bank account he hadn't cashed in yet.

  "Tell them I'll see them in a week," Reinhardt said, scribbling a short, cold response. "I have things to do first. Like checking why my System is currently wearing a wedding veil in the HUD."

  [I-I am not!] the System yelled, the HUD flickering red as she quickly deleted the "Wedding_Dress_Test.exe" file. [Focus, Host! You have 510 Gacha pulls! Are we doing this or not?!]

  Reinhardt leaned back, a predatory smirk on his young face. "Let's do it. 510 pulls. Give me something that will make the Malfoys look like beggars."

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