"Is that Quirrell?"
Vison quickly cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself and hid behind a pillar near the entrance of a nearby shop.
Quirrell—or rather, Lord Voldemort—was slowly emerging from Knockturn Alley. His entire body was cloaked in a long black robe, his face obscured by shadow. Yet, the distinctive purple turban gave him away instantly. It was this turban that allowed Vison to recognize him at a glance.
Lord Voldemort passed by without hesitation, walking straight ahead, seemingly unaware that someone was watching him from the shadows.
Soon, Voldemort's figure vanished from Vison's line of sight.
What is Lord Voldemort doing in Diagon Alley? Shopping for something?
Vison's curiosity stirred.
However, he didn't dare to follow Voldemort. The risk was too great, the uncertainty too overwhelming. Instead, he decided investigating Knockturn Alley might yield something useful.
Without hesitation, Vison canceled the Disillusionment Charm and retrieved a bottle of Polyjuice Potion from his inner pocket. After drinking it, he transformed into a middle-aged man with a rough, unshaven face—ordinary and forgettable in a crowd. As a precaution, he also transformed his own robe into a black one, covering his limbs and face completely.
Prepared, Vison stepped from behind the pillar and walked into Knockturn Alley.
Strolling through Knockturn Alley was far from pleasant. The narrow, damp street reeked of rot. The stone pavement was sticky and treacherously slick beneath his feet. He had to avoid suspicious dark stains on the ground, which could be vomit—or something worse.
In a nearby alleyway, a few pairs of glowing red eyes briefly appeared, then vanished. Fortunately, Vison wasn't harassed or attacked by any of the strange figures that lurked in the dark.
Eventually, he arrived at the entrance of Borgin and Burkes.
This notorious shop was run by Mr. Borgin and Mr. Burke and was the most infamous establishment in Knockturn Alley. While it claimed to deal in antiques, the real profit came from gray market dealings and the sale of dark magic artifacts.
Vison had only one sentence to describe the merchandise within: everything looked menacing, but most of it was useless junk.
What caught his eye, however, wasn't the chaotic collection of cursed relics—it was the figure he spotted through the dusty window.
Lucius Malfoy.
Vison recognized him immediately by his pale blond hair.
Determined to gather more information, Vison boldly opened the door to Borgin and Burkes.
The Polyjuice Potion proved effective. The shop's owner, deep in conversation with Lucius, didn't even glance at Vison. So Vison played the role of a casual shopper, pretending to examine the cluttered shelves.
The items were piled haphazardly, covering every available surface. As Vison moved closer to Lucius, the conversation between the two finally drifted into earshot.
"…Pack everything up and deliver it within a week. Everything except for the Unicorn blood," Lucius said calmly. "Don't try any tricks—you know what will happen."
"Of course, Mr. Malfoy," the shop owner replied obsequiously, rubbing his hands together. "Don't worry—when have I ever tricked you? But, you know, these goods cost a lot of godric, so a deposit is required upfront. As for the price…"
Lucius' expression soured. He wanted to curse aloud.
From previous dealings, he already knew what to expect—defective or flawed items. That was the reputation of Borgin and Burkes: always finding a way to cheat a customer out of more than just money.
Lucius sighed internally.
Not long ago, someone who haunted his nightmares had returned—Lord Voldemort.
The moment Lucius learned of the Dark Lord's return, his heart nearly stopped. Although Voldemort was currently weak, Lucius still dared not be careless. After all his years as a Death Eater, he knew better than anyone how terrifying Voldemort could be.
Voldemort didn't need his loyalty—Lucius had long since fallen from favor. The truly loyal followers were still imprisoned in Azkaban, guarded by Dementors.
But Voldemort hadn't come seeking allegiance.
He had come seeking godric.
Yes, the Dark Lord needed Lucius' wealth. He demanded rare magical items to restore his strength—including, most troublingly, Unicorn blood.
That was why Lucius had come to this grimy shop.
Though the shopkeeper was unscrupulous, he could still procure rare items that were otherwise impossible to find. Of course, even he couldn't get Unicorn blood.
Still, Vison had heard enough.
From this overheard conversation and the recent disturbances in the Forbidden Forest, he could piece together the truth: Voldemort was collecting powerful magical ingredients to rebuild his strength. And Lucius—his only value being his wealth—had been recruited for this task.
Yes, the power of godric was undeniable.
Lucius soon left, leaving behind a hefty bag. The clinking sound from inside confirmed it—full of godric.
Once the deposit changed hands, the shopkeeper turned his attention to Vison, who was still pretending to browse. He approached and greeted him.
"Hello, guest. I'm one of the owners of this shop. You can call me Borgin."
Vison nodded politely. "Hello, Mr. Borgin."
The man's greasy hair clung to his face in limp strands, and Vison had to suppress a laugh at the comical sight. Maintaining a composed demeanor, he held back any reaction.
Borgin crept closer until Vison could smell the oily stench of him.
"In this shop," Borgin said, tone slightly suspicious, "we require all customers to show their faces."
Vison hadn't heard of such a rule, but he complied, pulling back his hood. His face, thanks to the Polyjuice Potion, was a fabrication anyway.
"That's better," Borgin smiled slyly. "So, are you here to buy or sell? Even... unusual items are welcome."
Perhaps in high spirits after his lucrative deal with Lucius, Borgin enthusiastically began showing Vison various cursed and disturbing artifacts. Among them were a withered human hand, a grotesque bald man's head mold, and an oddly shaped bone.
To Vison's surprise, he ended up buying the withered hand.
As he walked out of the store holding it, he heard Borgin's gleeful muttering behind him.
"Finally sold that thing…"
Vison remained silent.
In truth, that hand—known as the Hand of Glory—was one of the few actually useful items in the entire shop.
It was a dark artifact. Once a candle was inserted into its grasp, the holder alone could see the flame, even through magical smoke or other concealments.
Of course, Vison wasn't yet sure how or when he'd use it.
Maybe I'll leave it on my desk and scare Harry next time he visits, he mused.
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