When Tver returned to Diagon Alley, the room had—just as expected—been turned completely upside down by Marvolio.
Standing with his back to Tver, Marvolio stood arrogantly in the center of the room, arms spread wide, magic swirling around his hands so thick it was nearly visible.
"I told you to get used to your body, not to redecorate the place."
Tver waved his wand in irritation, restoring the tables, chairs, and shelves to their original positions. Though the furniture wasn't worth much and this was only a temporary lodging, the mess made it unlivable.
"Huh?"
He was surprised to see that one chair refused to return to normal. Its broken edge was completely scorched, still trailing faint wisps of black smoke.
"I was gone for how long—and you've already learned dark magic of this level?"
Marvolio finally turned around, his face brimming with pride. He gave a slight, flawless bow.
"Mr. Fawley, the dark magic I command goes far beyond that."
Tver's hand froze midair, savoring the weight behind his words.
"So you're feeling bold now, are you?"
"You're welcome to test me."
Magic surged eagerly through Marvolio's body as he narrowed his eyes, careful to hide the fierceness within them. His crimson tongue flicked across his lips like a snake.
Typical Voldemort. Even bound by layers of restriction, not an ounce of arrogance had faded from him. Barely two hours into adapting to his new body, and he already dared to provoke him.
If Tver didn't put him in his place now, this would only get worse. With that thought, Tver slipped his wand back into his robe to make it fair.
"Very well. Let me see just how powerful the Dark Lord is after resurrection."
He returned the same precise bow.
Afterward, neither moved at once. They simply observed each other in silence—until a faint cat's meow sounded from outside the window.
"Crucio!"
Marvolio struck first, hurling an Unforgivable Curse. Because of the contract, he couldn't use the Killing Curse. But the Cruciatus Curse was fair game, he thought smugly.
Yet with a flick of Tver's wrist, a pale barrier shimmered into place, rippling softly without letting the curse touch him. Then, with a sharp backhand, three streaks of crimson light shot toward Marvolio.
That wasn't all. The damaged chair suddenly transformed into several snarling wolves that leapt at him. Before they could reach him, a massive python burst from the floor, swallowing the wolves one after another. Half its body absorbed the three spells, while the rest turned just in time to be blasted apart by Tver's next attack.
"Boom! Crack!"
When the smoke cleared, both the python and Marvolio were gone.
Tver immediately spun around, casting a reinforced Shield Charm. A second later, fiery red flames began to climb up its golden surface.
"You're ruthless—using Fiendfyre already."
No sooner had he spoken than the red flames were consumed by fiercer blue-violet fire. With a deafening roar, a blazing ring formed around Tver.
The ring seemed alive, its fiery tendrils whipping out toward every spot where Marvolio reappeared through Apparition.
"Thud!"
The flames themselves weren't especially hot or forceful—when they struck the furniture, they left only black scorch marks. But Marvolio could feel it. If even a single touch landed, his very soul would be torn apart.
"Hey, hey! Who's the real cruel one here?!"
The ring of fire kept expanding, its tendrils multiplying until he had nowhere left to stand. Appearing in the last untouched corner of the room, Marvolio flailed his arms and shouted,
"I give up! I give up! This is way too much!"
...
Mr. Burke, already fast asleep, propped himself up with his hand, listening helplessly to the crackling sounds and occasional tremors coming from next door.
Thud. Dust fell from the ceiling, landing squarely on his head.
Creak. A sudden, ominous feeling washed over him.
Snap—crash!
The bed beneath him collapsed!
Furious, Mr. Burke swiftly grabbed the wand from his nightstand and waved it—
The bed was repaired.
At least the noise had stopped, he reassured himself. He finally got a good night's sleep, and the soul-shaking sensations ceased. To savor this rare tranquility, he lingered in bed a little longer.
Thus, Mr. Burke rose later than usual the next morning.
When he opened the shop door, an impatient customer was already waiting outside.
"Ah, my apologies for the delayed opening today," he said, bending to let the customer in as he unlocked the door.
But as he looked at the man's face... Somehow familiar?
Mr. Burke pondered for a long moment, unable to recall where he'd seen such a figure before. Yet like that Mr. Percival he'd met last time, this customer showed no restraint—even more unrestrained.
With a hint of crimson in his eyes, Marvolio swept a contemptuous glance around the shop's wares.
"What might I assist you with, sir?"
Facing the deferential Burke, he maintained his haughty demeanor.
"Crystals. I need all of them—and the crafting techniques."
Burke kept his head bowed, his unseen face shifting between shadow and light.
"I don't understand what you mean. I have many crystals here—"
"I speak of crystals that protect souls!" Marvolio cut him off harshly. "I know you have more, and know how to craft them. Hand them over!"
"Or I'll rip your soul from you, grinding out every secret bit by bit." He lowered his head, whispering the threat into Burke's ear.
He was now a mere collection of soul and life force. If someone were to cut open his body, they'd find it hollow inside—devoid of the organs and tissues found in ordinary humans.
This made him extremely vulnerable to magic; virtually any spell could affect his soul. As someone obsessed with power, though few could attack him magically, he couldn't tolerate such a weakness. To compensate, he desperately needed the protective power of crystals.
Suddenly, a hand clapped onto his shoulder.
"Calm down, Marvolio," Tver restrained him with a sigh. "Burke never said no."
Not seeing him in the morning had made Tver sense something was off. Luckily, Burke had opened the door late; otherwise, the newly purchased house would have become uninhabitable.
"Mr. Percival," Burke swallowed hard, "the crystals are truly gone. They're too difficult to craft. The one you took was the last remaining one."
Tver said nothing, instead rummaging in his pocket.
"Wait!" Burke quickly pressed Tver's hand, offering an awkward smile. "Crafting takes time. One month—I'll give you one for free after a month."
"Here's the deal: in a month, I'll return the house to you. Consider the purchase price as payment for the crystal. But I need at least one within a week. You won't pull a fast one on me, right?"
Tver withdrew his hand and gave Burke a friendly pat on the shoulder.
This type of crystal demanded exceptional skill and required the alchemist to have deeply studied souls. Currently, only Burke possessed the ability to craft it. So spending a little extra was no big deal.
Just as he had befriended Dervish & Banges, cultivating relationships with useful talents always brought him some benefit.
Burke's eyes lit up. The house money was substantial—even if he traded it for five crystals, he'd still come out ahead.
"Why would I shortchange you? You'll get one crystal for sure, and come month's end, three more on top of that!"
Tver nodded in satisfaction, dragging the sullen-faced Marvolio away.
Before leaving, he shot Burke a fierce glare, then held out his hand with five fingers spread wide.