Harry Potter: Using science to be IMMORTAL

"I need your help to deal with Scrimgour," Murphy stated outright to Lucius. "He's causing me trouble."

"That's impossible!" Lucius flatly refused.

"If there's a wizard more stubborn than Barty Crouch, it has to be Rufus Scrimgour! He's like a stone – nothing can sway him. Once he's set his mind on something, he'll see it through to the end."

"So, he's unyielding to both threats and bribes?"

"Forget it, you're finished. He'll definitely catch you, it's just a matter of time."

Murphy was unfazed by Lucius's schadenfreude, "Such a rigid character must not be very popular in the department, right? He's been in the office for many years without being promoted. Is that the reason?"

"Even if many don't like him, there are even more who dislike you."

"I have my share of admirers too," Murphy replied. "Minister Millicent seems to think highly of me."

"She's just a foolish woman with some influence among half-bloods, a minor figure at best."

"Even after being re-elected for several terms? Even when half-bloods now make up more than half of the Ministry?" Murphy scoffed, "Underestimating your opponent is not a good habit, Lucius. Haven't you learned that lesson yet?"

"..."

Lucius was at a loss for words.

"Do you have a specific plan? I can help you connect with some people, but Scrimgour is cautious. Without any leverage, you can't bring him down."

"How well do you know Kingsley Shacklebolt?"

"Kingsley from the Shacklebolt family?" Lucius pondered for a moment. "He's no simple character. What are you planning?"

"Nothing much. One of his subordinates was tracking me and got injured by me. He's eager to catch me now. Suggest something to him, he'll surely listen."

"What suggestion?"

"Alex Wood. Tell him, if he wants to catch me, he should start with Alex Wood."

...

After leaving the Malfoy residence, Murphy went to the Siren's Song to find Lysander.

"You want my blood?" Lysander was puzzled after hearing Murphy's request. "Do you wish to become a vampire? You have decent potential; the elder might be willing to accept you."

"You misunderstand, I just want some of your blood. Or, if you have fresh werewolf blood, that would also suffice."

"What do you need it for?" Lysander was confused by the bizarre request.

"Just tell me if you'll sell it or not."

"I might love money, but not enough to sell my blood," Lysander refused. "What if you use it to curse me?"

"The blood of those blood slaves you turned would suffice."

"You better explain what you want to do with it."

After some thought, Murphy decided to be somewhat honest, "I'm intrigued by the vampires' and werewolves' ability to transform others into their kind. I want to study the principle behind it. This could potentially be used to treat lycanthropy or improve your living conditions."

Lysander became wary, "You mean, including turning me back into a human?"

"I mean improving your sleep conditions. Lack of sunlight leads to vitamin deficiency, staying up all night increases the risk of cardiovascular diseases..." Murphy started rambling.

Lysander listened with a blank expression and then dismissed Murphy, "Please leave."

"Hey, think about it. I'll give you a hundred Galleons for a vial of blood, how about that?"

"Get out, our vampire blood is not for sale as potion ingredients!"

"Two hundred Galleons!"

"Leave now or I'll have to force you out!"

As they argued, a voice suddenly intervened, "Give it to him."

Both turned in surprise to the bartender, who continued cleaning glasses.

Lysander looked unsurely at the bartender, "You're saying give it to him? What if he uses it against us..."

The bartender gently placed the glass on the tray, "I said give it to him."

Lysander, reluctantly and angrily, prepared to bite his vein and begrudgingly give Murphy some of his blood.

But the bartender spoke again, "Give him true blood."

"What?!" Lysander was shocked.

True blood, the source of a vampire's power and key to transforming others into vampires, was scarce in each vampire's body and extremely difficult to replenish.

Without further comment, the bartender went back to his work.

Sighing, Lysander snatched a test tube from Murphy, turned away, and let his fangs pierce the tube. A strand of crystalline blood flowed from his teeth, filling the tube with about two milliliters of true blood.

After handing the test tube to Murphy, Lysander said, "Take it and leave."

Murphy stored the test tube but offered another, "A bit scarce, how about giving me some more?"

"You!"

"Do you realize how many people this amount can transform?"

"I know, I know. Just a bit more, please."

Lysander pleaded with the bartender.

The bartender, however, continued his silent work.

"Fine!"

Lysander, feeling humiliated, repeated the process, giving Murphy another two milliliters of true blood, his complexion growing even paler.

Seeing his murderous look, Murphy discreetly put away the third test tube.

Better not to push too hard.

"Thank you for your help," Murphy patted Lysander on the shoulder and nodded towards the bartender, "I owe you one."

Once Murphy had left, Lysander turned to the bartender, "Master, why?"

Finally setting down his glass, the bartender looked at him for a moment and said, "Not everyone thinks eternal life is a blessing."

"Especially our kind of half-hearted immortality."

...

London's East End.

The slums.

Once an industrial area near the port, it had always been one of London's backward regions, with narrow streets, dense population, and dilapidated old buildings, as if time had forgotten this place.

Such an environment was ripe for crime.

As a habitual residence for low-income groups and external immigrants, it was perennially associated with poverty, violent crime, and drugs.

It was said that in the East End, everyone was either committing a crime or skirting its edges, otherwise, you were an outcast.

It was evening, and Murphy, having applied a Muggle-Repelling Charm, flew overhead, scanning each street block.

He was here to find a scapegoat for his plan.

He needed someone utterly vicious and dispensable to serve as a decoy.

He quickly found some leads.

In a filthy alley, a group of hippie-dressed youths were beating a man curled up on the ground.

As Murphy descended and dispelled the Muggle-Repelling Charm, his bizarre appearance and billowing black smoke instantly terrified the thugs.

He randomly grabbed one, "Tell me, who's the worst scoundrel in this area?"