France, Strasbourg, on the banks of the Rhine.

The water under the night sky reflected the starlight-like lights on the shore.

As with most French cities, most shops had closed hours ago.

The romantic French would never allow work to interfere with their personal time. However, this doesn't mean Strasbourg falls asleep. In fact, the nightlife of this "city by the river" has just begun, and the city's bars are all packed with people enjoying life.

Not far from Place Kléber, a bar decorated in a distinctly Bavarian style has a sign outside with a black cauldron painted on it.

Below the cauldron are three rows of light-gold italicized names, written in English, French, and German.

[The Leaky Cauldron (037) - Strasbourg First Branch]

Unlike the old shop on Charing Cross Road, this franchise, jointly funded by the Destiny Group and Gringotts, is at the forefront of passionate art in terms of decoration style, lighting, and even relief decorations: colorful magic lights and the starry sky on the ceiling interweave and echo each other, goblin bartenders and two wizard bartenders greet customers at the bar, and several supervisors shuttle through the crowd to inspect the bar.

A silver acorn constrained by ice fog hangs in the center of the dance floor, like a sparkling gemstone in the colorful lights.

This branch of the Leaky Cauldron had been open for less than half a week in Strasbourg, and it quickly became the most popular wizarding bar in Strasbourg and even within a hundred miles. If it weren't for the fact that branches had also opened in Paris, Orleans, and Lyon, the number of people here would have exploded several times over.

Eck Dibwa wasn't a frequent visitor to bars, not because he didn't like them, but because he was poor.

However, he had recently found an easy part-time job through a friend's introduction.

As *The Quibbler* camp took the lead in launching a "traffic" battle in various newspapers and magazines, mainstream and non-mainstream magazines began to transform from secret competition to all-out war, starting from the UK. At the forefront of news publications, the collection of exclusive news and various explosive information has also gradually changed from passive interviews to a brand-new supply and demand market of "informant revelations" and "paid news."

Most established publications began to imitate the marketing strategy *The Quibbler* had previously used and launched informant competitions in their respective territories.

And Eck Dibwa's new job is an exclusive informant. At least in the French wizarding world, he is temporarily considered the first of the "golden paparazzi." Almost every magazine editor now knows about this sensitive-nosed, greedy, and reliable top informant.

Many wizards have tried to surpass Eck Dibwa, but most of them are clearly misguided in their efforts.

Eck Dibwa is not a "paparazzo" active on the front lines. He is actually more like an "information broker": he doesn't wait for explosive news in sewers and garbage dumps like some wizards, because he has more high-quality and reliable sources of information…

*Clink*—

A Galleon fell gently on the wooden bar, and with Eck Dibwa's finger movement, it moved to the front of the goblin bartender.

"Rod, the usual, a flaming cocktail, no alcohol, no special mix."

"Today's cocktail price has gone up, it will be twenty-nine more Galleons."

The goblin bartender wiped the wine glass in his hand, snapped his fingers to fill it with clear water, pushed it in front of Eck Dibwa, picked up the Galleon on the table and blew on it, and grinned, revealing a mysterious smile. "Only for tonight, how much you can earn depends on your ability."

"Thirty Galleons?" Eck Dibwa was stunned for half a second and couldn't help but frown.

You know, according to the previous rules, one Galleon was roughly equivalent to the news of a secret mistress of a high-ranking Ministry official.

Then, by analogy, what level of news could thirty Galleons buy?

This was completely beyond Eck Dibwa's imagination. This was the first time he had encountered such expensive information. Eck's first reaction was that the goblin wanted to cheat him out of money. Whether it was Gringotts or goblins working outside, they would sell everything they could sell for Galleons.

"Then, um, if it's just one Galleon—"

Eck Dibwa said hesitantly, choosing his words carefully.

As an "old customer" of the Leaky Cauldron, Eck Dibwa had a lot of experience in bargaining.

"Not split, not sold separately—the 'information' contained in this news is worth one Galleon."

The goblin bartender grinned, revealing sharp little fangs inside, and put the gold coin into his arms with complete naturalness.

"For the sake of your past credibility, I can give you a little hint. This news is limited, time-sensitive, and graded. Ordinary wizards can spend three Galleons to get some small news... this news of thirty Galleons depends on the person... If it is the kind of idiot who publicizes everywhere as soon as they get the news, then the danger on my side is not small. You have ten seconds to consider."

The goblin bartender casually continued to wipe the wine glass, counting softly.

"Ten, nine, eight—"

"Three Galleons!"

Eck Dibwa gritted his teeth and took out two more Galleons from his pocket and handed them to the goblin bartender.

"Just tell me that 'intelligence' worth three Galleons."

"Oh? Are you really not considering the thirty Galleons one?"

The goblin bartender's sharp, long fingers quickly swept across the edge of the table, picked up the two Galleons, and glanced at the wizard in front of him meaningfully.

"Whether that news is true or false, it's not something I should know—I don't have too many ambitions, making money to support myself is enough, the thirty Galleons one is too dangerous." Eck Dibwa shook the clear water in his wine glass, speaking in the colorful lights.

"Alright—"

The goblin bartender shrugged indifferently, beckoned to Eck Dibwa, signaling him to get closer.

"The entire Auror force of the British Ministry of Magic just passed through the French Ministry of Magic, they are preparing to go on an expedition to the Armenian wizarding world to encircle and suppress werewolves... In addition to the British wizarding world, I heard that most of the European magic governments have also participated in it. If you leave immediately, you should have a chance to reach the 'encirclement scene' before they act—today is the night of the full moon, as a wizard, you should be able to guess some..."

A few minutes later, Eck Dibwa left the Leaky Cauldron in a hurry.

This is a big news story. Nearly a hundred British Aurors swaggered out of the French Ministry of Magic hall "borrowing the road", which is already a blockbuster. But compared to the content behind it, and the grand story that might be derived from it, the surprise expedition is just an appetizer.

On the other side, inside the Leaky Cauldron (037).

Watching Eck Dibwa leave in a hurry, the goblin bartender pulled out a notepad from under the bar and scribbled a few strokes.

It walked to the wizard who was waving his wand to mix magic potions not far away, and handed the board to the wizard.

"Dibwa bought that special flaming cocktail tonight. I originally wanted to sell him the more expensive one, but he refused because he thought it might be a little dangerous for him—you can try to visit him later and see if you can convince him to do a few more part-time jobs or something..."

The goblin's sharp little teeth flashed in the magic lights, while surveying the crowded and lively bar.

Between music, lights, and dance steps, some gossip is quietly spreading.

And in more distant cities, the night also began to stir and become tense.

True rumors never have just one side. They must have a dazzling brilliance like the facets of a diamond.

Unlike those wizard officials who use false stories to weave traps, Elena has never deigned to rely on lies to achieve her goals.

The real light and shadow flickered uncertainly in the night, like the outline of the sun reflected on the ground by the moonlight.

Just as the editor of the French *Magical Truth* was awakened by a hurried knock on the door, Barnabas, the editor of the *Daily Prophet*, also groped for his wand and got out of bed. At the same time, Cornelius Fudge had just finished counting the number of people in the French Ministry of Magic hall and was preparing to go to the next place...

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Yay!