There were far too many guests, so the so-called "banquet" at Dentis Castle was more accurately a grand buffet. However, despite the informal setup, every dish served at Dentis Castle was prepared by top-tier chefs using only the finest ingredients. Dak had even secretly invited Muggle chefs—including two master chefs from China, graduates of the renowned Central Plains Culinary Vocational Technical School—making the food truly authentic.
As a result, many guests, abandoning their noble pretenses, tucked themselves into corners and indulged in the exquisite fare.
At the center of this event stood Dana—no, Dark Dentis—undoubtedly the most sought-after figure at the banquet. People constantly surrounded him, each eager for a moment of conversation. He was rarely without at least four or five people by his side.
"Your Excellency, Count, what made you decide to move to Britain?" someone asked.
Dentis smiled and replied, "That's because the women in France are far too unrestrained. You know, although I'm French by blood, I was born in a great Eastern nation. My views on relationships between men and women are still quite conservative. So, compared to France, the ladies in Britain are more suited to my preferences."
He raised his cup lightly. "You see, I have no greater pursuit in life—" everyone around him nodded solemnly in agreement "—than to find a partner with whom I can spend the rest of my life. Isn't that the most important thing?"
"Of course! Absolutely! Our pure-blood ladies in Britain are known for their virtue and modesty!"
The guests echoed his sentiment, treating his words as gospel.
As the Count's romantic views were quietly relayed across the banquet hall to the family section, many young women subtly adjusted their gowns. Several discreetly tugged their necklines higher, and with quick flicks of their wands, used Transfiguration to make their collars look as if they had always been properly modest.
Unfortunately, these efforts were destined to be futile.
Count Dentis had no intentions of romance until he had fully exacted his revenge. Moreover, what the young women didn't realize was that the reputation of British pure-blood ladies had long been tarnished—thanks in part to a certain older "young" woman who spent her days amusing herself by staring at posters.
At that moment, Cornelius Fudge, full and content from the feast, walked directly toward Dentis. The crowd around the Count instinctively stepped aside, making way for the Minister of Magic to speak privately with the host.
"Mr. Count!"
"Mr. Minister!" Dentis greeted him warmly. "This is not my homeland, so the ingredients were limited, and the hospitality may have been lacking. I hope you can forgive me."
"Not at all, not at all," said Fudge, laughing heartily. "If this is what you call inadequate hospitality, then I must have been eating pig slop all my life!"
Dentis, who had never in either of his lives heard someone compare themselves to a pig with such pride, simply smiled and allowed the topic to pass.
Fudge pointed toward a quiet corner of the hall, where a few sofas sat unused.
"Shall we talk over there?"
"Of course," Dentis replied with a courteous nod.
Once seated, Fudge leaned forward with an eager expression. "Your Excellency, Count, I've been hoping for someone like you to appear for quite some time now. The British Wizarding World has reached a point where fresh blood must be introduced."
"Oh?" Dentis raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, Mr. Minister?"
"You may not be aware," Fudge began, lowering his voice, "but over the past decade, thanks to You-Know-Who, many British wizards have either died or fled. Entire families have dwindled, some down to a single heir." (Dentis sneered internally.)
"As a result, the taxes collected by the Ministry of Magic have plummeted to less than a third of what they were ten years ago. Yet to uphold the International Statute of Secrecy, the Ministry still has to invest massive manpower and resources every year in maintaining magical arrays that isolate the Wizarding World from the Muggle one. There are over nine hundred of these arrays spread across Britain."
"With dwindling tax revenue, the Ministry's finances are stretched thin. We can't even pay our employees consistently. Were it not for the occasional donation from philanthropists like Mr. Malfoy, the Ministry might have collapsed already."
"But even the great families, like the Malfoys, are beginning to experience financial strain. If we don't change something soon, the British Wizarding World will be finished!"
Dentis nodded thoughtfully. "Mr. Minister, that is indeed a dire situation. So what you're saying is, if new blood like myself steps in, the Ministry can secure new funding and continue functioning?"
Fudge looked slightly embarrassed. "Well… theoretically, yes."
Dentis tilted his head slightly. "Sponsoring the Ministry is not an issue. However, I expect support in return. I must ensure that my investment won't be wasted. Unlike Mr. Malfoy, I'm not that noble—I expect returns."
"Of course, of course! That's only reasonable!" Fudge replied hastily. In truth, he knew that families like the Malfoys gained far more from their support of the Ministry than they ever gave. So if Count Dentis had conditions, it was best to hear them out.
Dentis continued calmly, "I want to establish a bank."
"A bank?" Fudge blinked. "But doesn't the Wizarding World already have Gringotts?"
Dentis smiled. "Is the existence of Gringotts reasonable, Mr. Minister?"
Fudge was stunned. "Reasonable? Unreasonable?"
Dentis snapped his fingers, and a waiter promptly appeared, bearing tea and pastries.
"Let's talk over some tea, Mr. Minister."
The waiter set the refreshments before them. Dentis lifted a delicate teacup, inhaling its aroma.
"This is high-grade tea from the East. Please try some."
He took a sip and placed the cup back on the saucer.
"Mr. Minister," he began, "I've always found it odd that Gringotts even exists in its current form. Wizards deposit their Galleons with goblins, yet receive no interest. Isn't that daylight robbery?"
"Wait—what?" Fudge frowned. "They store our gold for us. Why would they pay interest?"
Dentis sighed. "Because, Mr. Minister, money should make money. If I didn't deposit my Galleons in Gringotts and instead invested them properly, my wealth would grow steadily. But right now, Gringotts holds massive wizarding wealth. What if they're using that money to secretly invest for themselves? Worse yet, they charge vault fees on top of it all!"
"If you believe that's fair, then I'll drop the subject."
The Minister hesitated.
After all, wizards weren't fools—they simply lived in isolation from Muggles.
Dentis leaned in. "They're exploiting the Wizarding community. And let's not forget, in the last wizard-goblin war, the goblins were the losers."
Fudge found himself nodding. "You make a good point, Count. I'd never thought of it that way."
Dentis pressed on, "That's why I want to establish a new bank, reform the currency system, and issue paper money to replace the cumbersome Galleon model. Wizards would deposit their wealth in my bank, and I'd use that to generate returns—returns that go back to them, not into the goblins' coffers. Doesn't that make more sense than paying goblins to hoard our gold?"
He paused, then added with a proud smile, "Mr. Minister, I think you'll agree—I have the resources to accomplish this. In fact, the entire British Wizarding World's combined assets may not be worth as much as the collection on this castle's first floor."
Fudge looked at him, stunned.
And strangely enough… he couldn't help but agree.
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