Chapter 109: chance encounter

According to Mr. Robert Wilson's instructions, Jon came to a very humble gold shop in Winchester.
When Jon explained his intentions, the owner of the gold shop took him to the basement with a cautious look.
Jon didn't have much fear, he had a wand and a pistol in his hand; even if the opponent was malicious, he was not afraid.
When Jon took out a large bag of gold coins, he was shocked to the boss.
"Mr. Wrynn, what do you mean..." he exclaimed, "melt all these gold coins into gold bricks?"
"Of course!" Jon nodded calmly, he was wondering whether the magic world had the crime of damaging currency.
"There may be... 5% loss!" The owner of the gold shop said stutteringly.
"It's reasonable..."
Two hours later, a large bag of gold coins had turned into dozens of gold bricks, neatly placed in Jon's suitcase.
And this batch of gold bricks also has a legal certificate.
According to the current gold price of about US$400/ounce on the market, more than 1,000 gold gallons can be turned into a huge sum of almost 600,000 pounds after such a simple treatment.
Although it is difficult to analyze, who is more valuable than 1,000 gallons or 600,000 pounds.
More than 1,000 gallons is not a small number, but there is no way to hire a few outstanding wizards and sacrifice your lives, and Jon does not think that there are wizards that can calmly face the reborn Voldemort and a dozen Death Eaters ; But 600,000 pounds is enough to make a group of poor ordinary people take risks for you, especially in recent years, under the premise that the lives of the former Soviets are not worth money.
To be honest, Voldemort's resurrection has nothing to do with Jon himself... but not afraid of ten thousand, just in case.
Jon was in the dark, always feeling that the plot would not develop as normal as the original plot...
So out of fear of accidents, he must leave a way behind.
in case for need.
...
After solving the problem of money, Jon got on the train to London.
A few hours later, he reappeared in the Newham district of East London, and it has been almost a year and a half since he was here last time.
According to the information he received from Mr. Wilson, he found a Belarusian guy named Angele.
Giving him a 50 pence coin, Jon said at the same time: "Take me to the house of Mr. Sergey Pavlov, please!"
Looking at the coin, the Belarusian guy's eyes glowed suddenly--
"Immediately, sir!" he said quickly.
Soon, Jon followed him and came to a small flat building.
The former KGB agent seemed to live in a better environment than before.
"Bang bang bang!" Jon knocked gently on the door.
After a while, the door was opened, and it was a teenage girl with an Eastern European face.
"Ah!" She took a few steps back in a little panic, looked at the man knocking on the door, and stammered: "You...you are..."
"Natasha, who is here?" Sergey Pavlov's vigilant voice came from the room.
"It's me, Mr. Pavlov!" Jon said calmly, "Varian-Wrynn!"
There was a rush of footsteps inside the door, and Pavlov's familiar face appeared in front of Jon, and he eagerly held Jon's hand.
"It's you... Mr. Wrynn..." He said gratefully: "I have always wanted to find you... But Mr. Wilson won't tell me your information."
Naturally, Pavlov would not forget this quirky Yankee; more than a year ago, when he came to London, the most difficult time, it was the savior who gave him three thousand pounds to help him through Overcome the difficulties, and at the same time only need a bit of his hair... In Pavlov's view, this is a kind of charity in order not to hurt his self-esteem.
"My daughter!" He introduced the little girl: "I'm only eleven years old this year..."
Little Lori from Eastern Europe greeted Jon with some timidity.
To be honest, she is a pretty little girl, with white and tender skin that makes people want to pinch two.
The young Maomei is still very cute, but I don't know if she will die when she grows up...While saying hello, he thought.
...
Sitting down, Pavlov immediately opened a bottle of vodka and poured a large glass for Jon.
The hospitality was difficult, and Jon had to squint a few... and almost didn't catch his breath.
"Ah..." He said quickly: "Mr. Pavlov..."
"Just call me Sergey, Mr. Wrynn..."
"Okay... Sergey, there is something, I may need your help!" Jon said sternly.
"Say it!" Sergey Pavlov said unshirkably.
"I have an enemy, he may bring a group of people to the UK to make trouble for me in half a year; of course it is only possible, and there is a high probability that they will not be able to come over; so the high probability is just a waste of work!"
Jon briefly introduced: "Because I want to find someone to protect me... if you can find some former comrades in arms, whether it is the cost of smuggling to the UK, the cost of weapons and equipment, or buying a home I can solve all the expenses!"
After more than ten minutes, Jon and the other party introduced the situation.
The hearty Ukrainian man agreed with all his mouth, and then gave the remaining vodka in the bottle to Dududu...
...
Just as Jon was about to leave, a slow knock on the door suddenly remembered.
"Is it Miss Natasha Pavlova's house?" There was a greasy and familiar voice outside the door.
"Hello, yes..." Pavlov hurried over and opened the door.
"I'm a teacher from a school called Hogwarts, which is prepared for special talents!" the thin, crooked middle-aged man outside the door said slowly, and glanced at the same time. Inside the house: "I think you should have received our letter not long ago!"
The glass of vodka in Jon's hand almost fell to the ground in fright...
"Such a coincidence?"
"Hogwarts!" Pavlov said in surprise ~EbookFREE.me~, "I thought it was just a joke..."
"Of course it won't be a joke..."
"Then Sergey!" Jon stood up, pretending to be calm: "Since the matter is settled, I will leave first!"
"Mr. Wrynn, don't sit down for a while!" Sergey Pavlov asked to stay.
"No need... I have to go to Glasgow later..." Jon and Sergey said goodbye.
Then he passed the greasy man.
Go out a little bit...
Just as he was about to walk out of this cabin--
"Wait!" Severus Snape ordered coldly.
(=)