The Second Transaction Knockturn Alley — Borgin & Burkes
The fog in Knockturn Alley was heavy that night — thick with soot, secrecy, and whispers of gold. The crooked door of Borgin & Burkes creaked open, letting in a tall figure wrapped in a black cloak, his face hidden by an obsidian mask streaked faintly with violet runes.
Roy Valvas — the unseen merchant of the Berserker Potions — entered the den of sin.
Inside, candles burned low. Shelves were stacked with cursed jewelry and bottled screams. At the counter waited Borgin, wringing his hands beside a hulking man with a scarred face and aristocratic air: Lord Flint, patriarch of the once-powerful Flint family.
"You're the one selling the potions?"Lord Flint's voice was sharp, desperate beneath its arrogance."I need them — thirty bottles. We'll end this war in a week."
Roy's voice, altered by a magical charm, came out smooth and emotionless.
"Thirty bottles… at the market rate — one hundred thousand galleons each. Payment in gold or equivalent shares."
Flint's jaw twitched, but greed and desperation outweighed caution.
"Done. I'll part with ten percent of the Romania Dragon Farm, the Flint Forging & Enchantment Foundry, and five hundred thousand galleons in gold."
Roy inclined his head. "The deal is accepted."
From his enchanted satchel, he drew a small black case etched with alchemical sigils — thirty Berserker Potions, glowing crimson like bottled rage. Even Borgin leaned back, uneasy at their heat.
Flint's eyes glimmered with triumph. "With these, we'll end the Rosettis for good."
Roy's tone never wavered.
"See that you do. The potions have… side effects. Best not to test them on your own."
Flint didn't hear. His greed already blinded him. Within minutes, the vault transfer was done — parchment seals glowing as the ownership of shares and gold flowed to Roy's invisible accounts. Then, with a curt nod, Lord Flint left, clutching his new weapons of war.
Borgin's Gratitude
When the door shut, Borgin turned to Roy with an oily grin.
"Another fine bit of business, sir. You've practically financed half my shop this year."
Roy placed a sleek obsidian box on the counter.
"One hundred Berserker Potions. The next year's supply."
Borgin's eyes nearly popped.
"A-A hundred?! At once?!"
Roy's tone was calm, final.
"Consider it insurance. Sell them slowly. The market needs time to forget who the supplier is."
Borgin bowed hastily. "Of course, my good sir, of course!"
Roy turned, his cloak swirling as he left — disappearing into the fog as if the alley itself had swallowed him.
The Valvas Mansion — Midnight
Later that night, Roy sat in his private study. The dim light of enchanted candles reflected off piles of documents — market valuations, vault ledgers, Wizengamot reports.
At his call, Bela White, Narcissa Black, and Nagini entered, each carrying their own ledgers.
Roy placed three parchments on the table — deeds and transfer seals gleaming in the candlelight:
10% of Romania Dragon Farm
Flint Forging & Enchantment Foundry
500,000 galleons of gold
"We'll launder these through the black market," Roy said evenly."Make it look like a fallen Flint investor sold them under pressure. Liyue Store will 'buy them back' publicly."
Bela smirked. "So, to the world, we'll look like rescuers. Again."
Narcissa nodded approvingly. "And when we rebuild the foundry, we'll control the enchantment industry that supplies broom cores, wands, and even armor plating."
Nagini's amber eyes gleamed. "I'll use the capital to rebrand it. We'll call it Liyue Forging & Enchantment Foundry. Modern equipment, enchanted safety, no trace of the old Flint family."
Roy leaned back, the faintest smile touching his lips.
"Good. Within a week, the market will shift. People will forget who the Flints were — but they'll remember the name Liyue."
One Week Later — The Papers Speak
"Black Market Shares Acquired by Liyue Store — Economic Experts Applaud Transparency.""Liyue Forging & Enchantment Foundry Opens in France — Promises Safer, More Efficient Magical Equipment."
The wizarding world buzzed with the news. Investors flocked to join, praising the company's "visionary leadership."In the shadows, neither the Flint nor Rosetti family realized they were now funding their own replacement.
At the Mansion Balcony
As night fell again, Roy stood alone beneath the stars, a glass of wine in hand.Grayfia approached silently, her silver eyes reflecting the moonlight.
"The Flints have spent nearly everything," she said softly. "The Rosettis too. When the war ends, there will be nothing left of them."
Roy's voice was calm, almost gentle.
"Two houses lost. One empire gained."
"And the Ministry?" she asked.
"They'll praise us for stabilizing what they could never control."
A soft breeze rippled his cloak, carrying with it the faint scent of frost and fire.
"Power," he murmured, "isn't about conquest. It's about inevitability."
Grayfia bowed her head. "As you will it, my lord."