In the shadows of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, a young wizard brutally thrust his wand into the brain of a goblin.

Not long ago, Voldemort arrived at Knockturn Alley first.

This is the place with the most dark wizards in the entire British wizarding world. It is only separated from the famous Diagon Alley by a wall, but it is as clear as noon and night. Diagon Alley is prosperous, but Knockturn Alley is dirty and smelly.

The wizards who hang around here are not respectable even among the dark wizards. Rather than being wizards, they are more like a group of vultures that gather together to eat carrion, fighting and biting each other among rotten corpses.

However, this only applies to those who have no fixed place to live. On the contrary, some wizards who can occupy a place in Knockturn Alley are extraordinary.

The more famous one is Borgin and Burke, the owner of Borgin and Burke's, whose real name is Caractacus Burke, one of the twenty-eight purebloods. He seems to be sloppy and unkempt, but even if Malfoy comes, he has to call him "Sir".

Even when the Ministry of Magic was strictly investigating dark magic items, he had no qualms about accepting the banned magic items sold by Malfoy.

Not to mention, even Tom Riddle was once his apprentice.

Of course, Riddle's purpose was not pure. He was actually selecting some precious props worthy of being made into Horcruxes.

But Voldemort's goal this time was not Borgin and Burke's magic shop. He needed some dragon blood, or preferably unicorn blood, so that this poor body could move a little longer.

There were many similar potion shops in Knockturn Alley, but the most famous one was Travers's. The Travers family was also one of the twenty-eight purebloods. Perhaps only such a family could stand as firmly as a rock in the turbulent river.

The owner of the potion shop was an elderly, hunchbacked witch with age spots all over her face. Her skin was piled up layer by layer, and her eyelids were drooping so that her pupils were almost invisible.

Just standing there, she seemed to give off the aura of death.

In fact, about fifty years ago, Voldemort had imagined Travers to be like this.

He did not find this strange, in the magic world, there were many people who had the ability to extend their lifespans. It was rare to see someone like Nicolas Flamel who lived for six hundred years, but wizards around two hundred years old could still be seen occasionally.

Otherwise, Snape wouldn't have boasted in class that the potion could help people refuse to die.

Voldemort himself despises these ways of "immortality", aging is another kind of death. He not only wants eternal life, but also eternal power!

"What would you like to order?" Seeing a customer coming to her shop, the elderly Ms. Travers asked slowly.

She moved slowly and tremblingly, as if she would fall apart at any moment. "Polyjuice potion? Felicity potion? There are some other banned potions that can be bought, but the price is -"

"I want an ounce of dragon's blood," Voldemort said hoarsely.

"Dragon blood?" Ms. Travers' eyelids seemed to lift, and a hint of surprise appeared on her wrinkled face. She didn't expect someone to come to such a place just to buy some raw materials.

She looked at Voldemort oddly, and after a moment she said, "You look familiar. What's your last name, child?"

"Walsh," Riddle said casually.

"Walsh?" Travers pondered for a moment, and seemed unable to dig out any person or thing related to this name from her memory, and finally she gave up.

"Only dragon blood?"

"If there is any, it's best to use unicorn blood." Voldemort said slowly.

The lady from Vlast seemed even more surprised than at first. She raised her eyelids and actually revealed a pair of cloudy eyes.

"Unicorn blood? Sir, don't tell me you're going to drink that stuff?"

“From the sound of your voice, it seems like there is?” Voldemort’s eyes lit up.

"Originally there wasn't any, but you were lucky. Not long ago, a smuggled young unicorn fell into my hands. It was a beautiful creature, but it was a pity that it couldn't be saved. I drained its blood and tore off all its fur." ​​Ms. Travers laughed creepily.

"Bring it here!" Voldemort shouted urgently.

Ms. Travers slowly pulled out a vial of silvery blood.

"Look, how beautiful. But the blood of a unicorn that died with hatred is cursed. It will turn people into half-dead creatures. I was planning to use it to make some poison, but... if you are willing, it will cost you 258 Galleons."

Ms. Travers naturally didn't care what Voldemort was going to do with the unicorn's blood. She just gave him a reminder because she knew the other person well.

As for Voldemort, he didn't care even more. After all, the Galleons were not spent by him, and he was not the one who was cursed.

Of course, he wouldn't drink it immediately. Drinking unicorn blood was painful, and he would not show his vulnerable side to a stranger.

Even Voldemort did not trust his subordinates at all.

After buying the blood he needed, Voldemort was about to find a place where no one would disturb him to drink it. But as soon as he left Knockturn Alley, he noticed something was wrong - the goblins seemed to be getting very nervous.

From the appearance of Gringotts, it was clear that the guards of Gringotts had been strengthened. Although the defense level of Gringotts had been greatly improved after the attack two years ago, it was the first time that Voldemort had seen a scene that did not allow wizards to enter.

This was probably the first time in hundreds of years that Gringotts was closed to the public. Several wizards who intended to go to Gringotts to handle business were turned away, and even a few goblins left in secret and quietly turned to a remote corner.

He immediately realized that something major had happened inside Gringotts. Thinking back to the conflict that had taken place in the Scottish Highlands not long ago, Voldemort did not have to spend much effort to figure out what had happened.

Ancient magic.

It seemed that the person he had been looking for was right in front of him.

His erect pupils were filled with desire and bloody murderous intent, like a poisonous snake that had set its sights on its prey. It not only wanted to deliver a fatal blow, but also wanted to swallow the opponent whole!

(End of this chapter)