He responded, "There is no need," and then began to read whatever had been put on the parchment.

'Oh, so that's why?' Evan placed the parchment on the table and signed it, understanding why he had not heard about this facility from his uncle.

The substance inscribed on parchment consisted of significantly more than a few guidelines that protected the establishment's sovereignty from external influences. 

"Thank you for your cooperation; now, back to our trade, what kind of house-elf would you like to purchase?" With anticipation in his voice, the trader in a mask asked. 

"Kind of?" Evan couldn't stop himself from asking as the word symbolized a significantly higher value in this context.

"Well, first and foremost, I didn't expect to hear that question, but if you want an answer, I believe we possess every kind of house-elves that can be utilized in a worst-to-good case scenario." 

Even though the trader put it simply in commercial terms, Evan realized what he truly meant.

House elves had no significance concerning their existence or preservation from the beginning, which hindered their path to dominion and degraded them to mere pawns to be used by a wizard who came to their bleak lives as an oasis of enlightenment. 

While in current times, they had been diminished to such an extent that they were utilized as equivalent to dolls that could be torn by a witch or wizard’s hand over mere bitter sensation of cold. 

Evan, acknowledging that treading in mud will only make his feet dirty, comes to a halt and declares, "well, a young and enthusiastic one would seem ideal." 

House-elves, which were seen as a symbol of a wealthy family, often proved excessively intelligent to be for their master's disposal; nevertheless, they, too, suffered a time limitation. 

Evan didn't have a lot of requirements, nevertheless he did want a young house elf who would only follow the principles he believed in, and the argument for that wasn't particularly noble.

Receiving Evan's preferences, the masked trader snapped his finger once again, and three little house-elfs emerged out of nowhere in the chamber.

[Scene break]

"Why did you choose this one?" The moment three of them walked outside the store, the alastor couldn't help but ask as the house-elf Evan had picked was not only the weakest-looking of the three, nonetheless it even seemed as though it might pass away at any given moment. 

"Do you also believe I blew my galleons on waste?" Evan remarked while gazing at the little house elf who was striding next to him.

"No, I'm just looking for a reason that makes sense." Alastor asked, oblivious to Evan's emotional remarks. 

Alastor had nothing against the pitiful thing his nephew had bought; yet, what he really was against was that he did not want Evan to do something significant on the basis of sentiment. 

"Motives that sound acceptable, huh; I suspect I've something like that at the moment, but one thing that I can assure you is that I did not purchase it merely because I wanted to free it from visible degradation or any such thing like given that it's practically my employed slave since I've owned it."

And what would he gain from doing something like deeds of a sympathetic character; such things can only exist in the collective minds of the masses who had nothing much to do but still living in false imagination.

Meanwhile, Evan's motive for owning this poor-looking creature was beyond those beliefs and the farce of flaunting off his wealth.

"By the way, uncle, how much do you know about these guys?" Evan inquired, pointing to the store they had just left. 

He had a lot more questions regarding the event which he wanted to bring up, however he held back because of concern that the old man might simply cut him off.

Contrary to that, the old uncle took a different strategy this time, merely declining to open his mouth and preferred to keep moving forward, ignorant to Evan's requests. 

‘Aren't you being a hypocrite, uncle?’ Evan contemplated as he followed behind. 

Evan was unable to resist thinking about the event by himself given that his hypocritical uncle refused to speak about it. 

Though the association among that shop and his uncle might have been solely commercial, yet the manner in which the masked trader talked left a sour taste in Evan's mouth.

Normally, when a customer and trader encounter, irrespective of the occasion, there is an impression of courteousness, yet Evan only heard annoyed remarks in that chamber which was quite bizarre.

After a short walk, the three of them returned to Diagon Alley.

Meanwhile, Alastor pausing in his tracks, peered up to Evan stumbling towards him in a trance whilst the poor creature steeled quick glances at him.

"How are you getting back home?" He inquired, concerned, since Evan appeared knackered to him.

Evan looked up upon hearing Alastor's voice and discovered that he was now standing in the middle of Diagon Alley. 

And what he saw in front of him was much more puzzling than his long-term trance.The old uncle, who had previously feigned ignorance in response to his queries, was now looking at him with concern in the corners of his eyes. 

"Undoubtedly by floo network, why?" He responded.

"Nothing special, other than your complexion which doesn't seem too good, so perhaps you should consider resting in the leaky cauldron?"

"really?" Evan checked his forehead to see if it was burning or something, yet there were no symptoms of illness.

"Well, it's up to you anyway, and another thing, Arthur has invited us over for dinner tomorrow, so make sure you're not too busy with some strange task of yours." Alastor disappeared into thin air with a bang after finishing his task.

"Well, that was certainly unexpected." Evan mumbled, waving for the house elf to come along with him.

Evan headed back into the leaky cauldron, which was now completely vacant, and asked the bar owner Tom who was dozing off on the counter, "Excuse me, can i get a room?"