Alex moved swiftly, eager to explore the rest of the rooms. The door revealed a fully equipped kit. The tertops gleamed, and a ventition system had been installed to handle cooking fumes. Despite its age, the space otless. Another door led to a bathroom that, like the kit, was immacutely and appeared unused.

  Finally, Alex stepped into a bedroom. The yout ractical but fortable. A firepinated one wall, with ly stacked firewood inside. Oddly, the inner walls of the firepce were free of soot, as though it had never been lit. Beside the firepce was a rge bed, and against another wall stood several matg wooden ets. When Alex opehem, he found them filled with ly folded sheets, quilts, and a variety of spare clothes.

  Bookshelves lined another side of the room, most of them empty, save for a few dozen books and some old neers. At the ter of the bookshelves was a solid wooden desk, its surface scattered with writing tools and stationery. Two stacks of part paper stood ready for use. Beside the desk was a wine et and ter, both empty now, but their design hi the room's aristocratic past.

  “This must’ve been a safe house for the Tefras family,” Alex mused, taking in the room. “They clearly prepared for long-term hiding, maybe even a doomsday sario. With all these supplies, you could stay here for years.”

  As he carefully searched the bedroom, something unusual caught his eye. Beh the desk was a series of drawers and ets. When Alex opened one of the ets, he found a small safe inside. Unlike a standard Muggle bination safe, this one cked dials or keypads. It had only a single handle, and its smooth surface gave no obvious hints.

  Pg his hand on the safe, Alex closed his eyes and trated. A faint magical aura firmed his suspi—this was a magical safe.

  “Iing,” Alex murmured, his curiosity piqued. He pulled out a small hammer, his trusty tool for situations like this, and began tapping lightly around the surface. A few moments ter, glowing spell patterns revealed themselves, snaking across the safe's exterior.

  His brow furrowed as he studied the intricate design. “This is way more plex than the protective charm at the entrance. Explosion-proof, roof, anti-magic—this thing’s loaded with safeguards.”

  Alex sighed, weighing his options. “I could crack it, but that’ll take time, and I don’t have much. There’s barely an hour left until dawn, and I still o stage the se upstairs.”

  Just as he was about to abandon the effort, something caught his eye. Examining the patterns closely, he noticed a detail that made him smile. “A bloodline lock, huh? Only someoh the right bloodline open this. That makes things easier.”

  He straightened up and pulled a syringe from his bag, tossing it to Karkaroff. “Take this a some blood from Torquil. You know how to use it.”

  Karkaroff caught the syringe and gred at it with barely cealed frustration. “Yes, Master,” he replied through gritted teeth, muttering under his breath, ‘As if I didn’t learn after you made me practi us.’

  “Hurry up!” Alex snapped, ign Karkaroff’s grumbling.

  “Yes, Master,” Karkaroff repeated, retreating upstairs. The four prisoners on the sed floor were still unscious, their bodies limp from exhaustion, pain, or mental strain. The sight of their battered forms made Karkaroff grimace, but he quickly drew a tube of blood from Torquil and hurried back downstairs.

  Alex took the syringe, carefully smeared a few drops of blood on the safe, and then pulled out his wand. With a muttered intation, the blood began to seep into the safe, vanishing into its surface. A soft click echoed as the lock disengaged.

  “Finally,” Alex said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Half a year studying blood magid it’s already paying off. Who k’d be this handy for lockpig?”

  He opehe safe to reveal two partments. The top shelf held a key and a folded piece of paper, while the bottom shelf was filled with stacks of Gold Galleons. Alex’s eyes gleamed as he ted them—ohousand Gold Galleons in total. “Not bad,” he said with a satisfied grin, pg the s into his ented pouch. “That’s 1,600 Galleons tonight alone. Quite the haul.”

  Turning his attention to the items oop shelf, Alex picked up the paper first. His excitement grew as he read it. “A nd deed for Diagon Alley?” he excimed, his voice brimming with delight. “Now this is a jackpot!”

  The unsigitle deed in Alex's hands was officially certified by the Ministry of Magic. As long as the deed remained in his possession, the house and even the nd it pertaio would be reized under magical w.

  "I ’t believe the joke I made with Ms. Primperually came true. This is a jackpot," Alex thought, a smirk f on his face. "No wohis thing needed such tight prote—it’s an unsigitle deed."

  Unsigitle deeds were extraordinarily rare. Alex had only e aentions of them in the archives of pure-blood wizarding families. In the magical world, most wizards didn’t bother with title deeds for their properties. Why would they, when all it took was a few powerful shielding spells to make a pce virtually uable? Some even opted to buy or modify Muggle properties, blending into the non-magical world as needed.

  However, in special wizarding areas like Diagon Alley smeade, things were different. Every property in these bustling hubs had to be carefully doted, registered with the Ministry of Magid apanied by an official title deed. Unsigitle deeds, though, were another level of rarity and plexity.

  To vert a normal title deed into an unsigned one required a mountain of bureaucracy. It needed approval from a Ministry department head and a member of the Wizengamot, making them an expensive and cumbersome option. But their unique advantages made them valuable: anonymity and prote. They didn’t just mask the owner’s identity; they were magically binding. Not even the Ministry could breach a property with such a deed unless granted permission. In areas with strict real estate regutions, like Diagon Alley, such deeds ensured plete privacy.

  Alex guessed that the Travers family patriarch, who held a high rank in the Wizengamot, had arranged for this o was likely intended as a failsafe—a secure hideout in case the family ever lost power or faced persecution, such as being targeted by the Ministry. Uhe Fidelius Charm, which cealed the very existence of a location, unsigned deeds focused on obsg ownership while still allowing the property to fun within the publiain.

  The dowhough, was its simplicity in transferring ownership. Whoever held the deed effectively owhe property. This feature, while ve for transas, made it risky if stolen or mispced. For example, now that Alex had it in his hands, the property was automatically his.

  Alex spread out the title deed and i with his magic. As his power seeped into the part, intricate magical runes fred to life, briefly glowing before fading. The deed recorded his magic signature, pleting the transfer. "It’s secure, but it’s far too easy to lose ownership. If someone swiped this from me, it’d be a nightmare to sort out," Alex muttered, folding the deed carefully. "I’d better head to the Ministry and have it verted into an exclusive title deed when I get the ce."