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While Sullivan was texting Tonks, Lucius Malfoy slipped into a rundown house deep in Knockturn Alley. He wore a loose black cloak and a golden mask twisted into a grotesque, terrifying face.
He climbed the narrow stairs to the second floor and found the owner waiting—an elegant middle-aged man in traditional noble robes. His skin was unnaturally pale, even whiter than any Malfoy's, and a long scar cut across one eye. If Sullivan had seen him, he would have recognized the man instantly: Count Dracula.
"So you're the one looking to buy a dark artifact that can open the Chamber of Secrets?" Lucius asked, voice guarded behind the mask.
"That's right," Dracula replied, equally cautious. "Do you actually have such an item?"
"You'll make sure it reaches Hogwarts before the new term starts, correct?" Lucius pressed.
Dracula frowned. "That's none of your business."
"I need your word it gets inside the castle before school begins," Lucius said firmly. "Otherwise, no deal."
"Why don't you do it yourself?" Dracula snapped, irritation rising.
Lucius didn't answer directly. His tone softened. "If you guarantee delivery before term starts, I'll only charge you three hundred Galleons."
Dracula gave a cold laugh. "Clever. You get what you want and still pocket three hundred Galleons. There's no such thing as a free lunch."
Lucius smiled behind the mask. "You're interested in the Chamber of Secrets. Sooner or later you'll take the item to Hogwarts anyway. I'm simply setting a deadline. We both win."
He added, "One more thing. Once it's inside the castle, the artifact will find and open the Chamber on its own."
Dracula hesitated, then nodded. "Deal. But if you're lying, I'll kill you."
Lucius didn't flinch. "And if you fail to deliver it before term starts, I'll kill you."
They quickly drew up a magical contract, sealed the bargain, and Lucius handed over a plain black notebook in exchange for three hundred Galleons. The moment the deal was done, he turned and left without another word.
He never noticed the thin crimson thread that had stuck itself to the hem of his cloak.
---
Back on the island after the Hopping Pot's secret realm shattered, Dracula had returned to London. Through his own network he had already learned that Sullivan was now a professor at Hogwarts.
But Hogwarts was no place for casual violence—even after five hundred years of imprisonment, Dracula knew better than to storm the castle directly. So he came up with a plan: possess or control a Hogwarts student, create enough chaos inside the school, and slip in during the confusion.
While haunting Knockturn Alley he heard a rumor—someone was quietly selling a dark artifact that could open Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets. That was how the meeting with Lucius had come about.
---
The next morning Sullivan met Tonks at the Leaky Cauldron. The second she saw him she grinned and grabbed his arm. "Come on, let's hit Knockturn Alley right now."
"Already?" Sullivan asked. "What's your plan?"
"Simple—do my job as an Auror and tear Borgin and Burkes apart," Tonks said, punching the air excitedly. They'd run plenty of raids like this lately.
Sullivan gave her a flat look. "It's Knockturn Alley. You really think they won't spot an Auror the second you walk in? And Borgin has been running that shop for decades. You think he's scared of a search?"
Tonks puffed her cheeks. "Fine, smart guy. What do you suggest?"
Sullivan looked her up and down. "First, you can't go in looking like yourself. A junior Auror won't intimidate Borgin. You need to impersonate someone senior—someone whose face alone makes people sweat."
Tonks wrinkled her nose. "Ugh, not Kingsley. He's way too ugly."
"Pick any senior Auror captain you know, then. Someone famous enough that Borgin will think twice."
Tonks sighed. "All right… I'll be Captain Shaquina. I don't like her, but she'll do."
Her body stretched taller, her face grew gaunt and sharp, and her hair turned messy and wild. The transformation was flawless.
Sullivan nodded. "Good. Here's how we play it. I'll go in first, disguised. You stay hidden outside until I signal. Then we hit the place together."
Tonks's eyes sparkled with excitement. She was still only twenty-two; this kind of undercover op felt like pure adventure.
Sullivan pulled a plain black wizard robe over himself and tugged the hood low, looking every bit the shady dark wizard. The two of them stepped into Knockturn Alley one after the other.
It had been more than a decade since Sullivan last walked these streets. Back then he'd come to sell some of his early inventions. The memory wasn't pleasant—he'd nearly been swindled by an old witch, but he'd turned the tables and walked away richer.
Nothing had changed. The alley was still a narrow, twisting passage barely wide enough for one person. The ground was slick with unidentified sludge, and dark red stains—old blood, most likely—dotted the walls.
They turned corners, brushed off a few shady vendors, and finally reached Borgin and Burkes.
Sullivan pushed the door open. The first thing he saw was a severed hand on the counter, a lit candle resting in its palm. It looked creepy as hell, but it was just a cheap thief's toy—nothing a simple night-vision charm couldn't replace.
The rest of the shop was a junkyard of oddities: snake-head canes, skull-based divination tools, masks that made grotesque faces. To a first-year it might have been terrifying. To Sullivan it looked like a secondhand store for cursed garbage.
He walked up to the counter and rang the service bell.
A man shuffled out from the back, bent over, repeatedly smoothing his greasy hair with one hand. "Borgin?" Sullivan asked.
"That's me," the man replied, flashing a greasy smile. "What can I do for you? Everything you need is right here."
Sullivan snorted. "You mean this junk? No offense, but a fifth-year could handle most of it. Show me something real."