A large black cabinet in Borgin and Burkes creaked as its door was pushed open, and Moriarty stepped out.
Moriarty quickly scanned his surroundings. The dark, spacious store was empty, and nothing here belonged on a Hogwarts shopping list.
To the right of the Vanishing Cabinet stood an old stone fireplace. Resting on a cushion in a glass box beside it were a withered human hand, a stack of bloodstained playing cards, and a sluggish glass eyeball.
"Hand of Glory. Only the person who holds it can see the light of the candle," Moriarty murmured as he approached the severed hand. Ingo had wanted to buy it, but Mr. Borgin had refused to sell it.
Before Mr. Borgin could find him, Moriarty decided to leave. Although the shopkeeper was a dark wizard, Moriarty had no intention of dealing with him.
As he walked past the glass counter, he noticed two beetle corpses lying on an opal necklace. Poor bugs.
The necklace should now bear a new warning: Beware: cursed—responsible for the deaths of nineteen Muggles and two insects.
He smirked and slipped out the shop's door. Before the bell could ring loudly, he had already entered a grimy alley.
Moriarty glanced around. Dark magic shops lined both sides of the alley. In front of a store selling poison candles, an old wooden street sign with blood-red letters read: Knockturn Alley.
The wizards lurking here were a miserable bunch—tattered robes, deep hoods, and eyes filled with malice. They whispered as they eyed Moriarty suspiciously.
"System, if I kill those two dark wizards, how many points will I get?" Moriarty's gaze landed on two men standing at the entrance of a shop displaying shrunken heads in the window.
"Fifty-two points," the system responded.
Moriarty instantly lost interest. He hadn't come to Knockturn Alley just to waste time on low-level scum.
Perhaps noticing his disdain, the two dark wizards staggered forward.
"It's the deputy face, man!"
As if that were some kind of signal, more dark wizards began closing in on Moriarty, malicious smiles spreading across their faces.
Uninterested in petty crooks, Moriarty strode deeper into the alley.
"Lost, dearie?" a shrill voice cut through the air. An old witch stepped in front of Moriarty, holding a tray of what looked like dead men's fingernails.
"Werewolf nails? That's rare," Moriarty noted, asking the system how many points he would earn for eliminating this old witch.
"Three hundred points."
Satisfied, Moriarty smiled at the old witch, his gaze turning peculiar. "You remind me of my Aunt Petty. Can you show me the way out?"
The old witch's instincts screamed that something was wrong with Moriarty. But she had lived in Knockturn Alley for decades, and no one had ever dared cross her.
She leaned closer, revealing her moss-covered teeth. "Come with me, dearie. I'll take you out. You look like you're forty. First time in Knockturn Alley?"
To win his trust, she took the lead, guiding him forward.
Moriarty followed, acting like a lost child. "I'm Italian. I came to Diagon Alley's Lishen Bookstore with my wife to buy Mr. Lockhart's novels. Somehow, we got separated. Oh, Merlin! There's nothing worse than Floo Powder! I wanted to use a Portkey, but my wife wouldn't allow it—always so stubborn!"
His attire clashed with his words, creating an odd contradiction. The other dark wizards, sensing something off, backed away. However, a tall, thin man in a black cloak trailed Moriarty from a distance.
The old witch led Moriarty into a cold, damp alley reeking of blood. The walls bore dark stains.
Suddenly, she stopped and turned to Moriarty.
"Why did we stop? Tired? Need a break?" Moriarty feigned innocence.
The old witch cackled. "Dead end, dearie. Nowhere left to run!"
Moriarty shrugged. "So you're going to attack me? I'd love to see what's in that withered brain of yours."
The old witch snarled but hesitated to act—until the tall, thin man appeared behind Moriarty. Grinning, she revealed her rotting teeth. "Balor, let's kill him together! I'll pay you well for those werewolf nails in the future!"
Moriarty turned to the man behind him. So this vampire was her supplier.
"System notification: Host has encountered a vampire. Mission issued: Kill the vampire! Reward: 500 points. Punishment: If captured, the vampire will grant you a First Embrace (turning you into a vampire)."
Moriarty drew his cedar wand. "Vampires and werewolves are mortal enemies. No wonder you have werewolf nails! Come on, let's see what you can do."
The vampire Balor lifted his cape, revealing his true form—a pale face, long black hair covering his eyes, and blood-red pupils glowing with hunger. His sharp fangs gleamed as he lunged at Moriarty.
Noting Balor's elegant dress and small black cloak, Moriarty smirked. "A viscount? No wonder you dare to walk in daylight. But your magic skills seem lacking. Do you think I'm a werewolf? That we'll fight hand-to-hand?"
With a flick of his wand, Moriarty cast, "Stupefy!"
Balor's form twisted as he transformed into a swarm of bats, dodging the spell and diving toward Moriarty.
"Interesting," Moriarty mused, raising an icy barrier to block the blood bats.
He recalled that vampires had innate transfiguration abilities, capable of morphing into bats, crows, and even werewolves.
"Imperio!" The old witch struck from behind, aiming to enslave him.
"Protego Maxima!" Moriarty shielded himself, then countered, "Reducto!"
The old witch dodged, her agility uncanny. "Expelliarmus! Stupefy! Serpensortia!"
A giant black snake slithered toward Moriarty, its venomous fangs gleaming.
"Take him down quickly, Balor!" the old witch screeched. "I'll let you make him your servant!"
Balor sneered. "The blood of an eleven-year-old boy isn't very appealing. If he were a girl, maybe I'd consider it."
Realizing she'd been fooled, the old witch shrieked, "You're just a boy? Eleven years old? A child daring to wander Knockturn Alley? You must be a wicked brat!"
Moriarty scoffed. "Trash will always be trash, no matter how much noise it makes."
He eyed Balor with amusement. The bats had broken through the ice barrier. "Since you figured me out—I won't make the Daily Prophet's front page today. This ends now."
A cold aura surrounded Moriarty's wand. "Crying Under the Snow."
The water element surged around him, creating an icy storm. The old witch and Balor's vision blurred, and ghostly wails of a little girl filled the air.
Their minds cracked under the pressure. The old witch collapsed, writhing in agony.
Balor, back in human form, whimpered and fled.
Exhausted, Moriarty flicked his wand. "Stupefy!"
Balor collapsed, coins spilling from his cloak.
Ignoring the gold, Moriarty conjured silver swords and impaled both enemies.
"Ding! Mission complete: 500 points! Bonus: 300 points for killing a dark witch in Knockturn Alley."
"Only 200 points left for a blind box reward. Maybe I should hunt more?" Moriarty mused, gazing at the blood-stained alley. But dinner time was near.
Setting fire to the bodies, he returned to Borgin and Burkes, slipping through the Vanishing Cabinet before Mr. Borgin could notice.