The moon hung low over London, its pale light slicing through the narrow, twisting alleys of Knockturn Alley.A faint mist rolled across the cobblestones as the heavy scent of potion fumes and dark incense filled the air.
Deep beneath the hood of a black cloak, a boy of silver-white hair and diamond-blue eyes walked silently — his aura hidden by layered concealment charms.
He was only nine years old, yet in his calm gaze rested the composure of a seasoned alchemist.
This was Roy Valvas, the shadow behind Liyue Store, and tonight he was not a noble heir — he was an unknown supplier stepping into the underbelly of the wizarding world.
The Forbidden Potion
Inside the dimly lit shop of Borgin and Burkes, the shelves brimmed with cursed trinkets, blood-stained daggers, and forbidden tomes. Borgin himself, an aging man with calculating eyes, looked up as the masked stranger entered.
"We're closed," Borgin hissed, though curiosity flared as his eyes caught the stranger's confident posture. "Unless you have something… interesting."
Roy said nothing. Instead, he reached into his cloak and placed a small vial on the counter. The potion inside pulsed faintly with crimson light, swirling like liquid fire.
"Drink it," Roy said calmly. "But only a drop."
Borgin hesitated — years of dealing in dark artifacts had taught him to be cautious — but the boy's tone carried quiet authority. He uncorked the vial, let a single drop touch his tongue, and in an instant his veins burned with a surge of magic. His wand hand trembled from the raw power coursing through him.
"Merlin's beard… this—this is extraordinary!" Borgin gasped. "What is it?"
"Berserker Potion. It doubles your magical output for a limited time. But there's a price — you'll lose a quarter of your reserves afterward."
Roy's voice was steady, his words deliberate. Borgin looked both thrilled and horrified.
"A potion that amplifies magic… and costs a piece of your soul's energy. This will fetch a fortune in the black market!"
"I'm not here for your gold," Roy said simply, sliding a parchment across the table. "I want ten percent ownership of Borgin and Burkes. In exchange, I'll provide one hundred vials a year — exclusive to your shop."
Borgin stared at the masked boy, the weight of his confidence unsettling. The terms were bold — audacious, even — yet something in his voice told Borgin that refusing him would be unwise.
After a long silence, Borgin's lips curled into a grin.
"Deal."
They sealed the contract with a binding magical signature — Roy's sigil glowing faintly gold, Borgin's a murky red.
Whispers in the Dark
Within days, rumors flooded Knockturn Alley. A new potion — Berserker's Wrath, they called it — was circulating through the black market. Warriors, dark wizards, and mercenaries all craved it. A single vial sold for a chest of Galleons.
Borgin was questioned countless times. Some threatened, others bribed. But his answer never changed.
"The supplier's identity is none of your concern."
Behind his mask, Roy watched from the shadows as the market twisted around his creation. His plan worked — Borgin and Burkes' value skyrocketed, and through his silent ownership, the Valvas fortune expanded into the underground.
Return to Light
That evening, Roy returned to the Valvas Estate, removing his cloak as he entered the quiet warmth of his room.On his table lay several blueprints for new alchemical inventions — weapons, medicines, and tools. The Berserker Potion was only the beginning.
"If light rules the day," he murmured to himself, "then I'll rule the night as well."
He placed his mask upon the shelf, next to a glowing vial of crimson liquid — the mark of his silent conquest.
And so, at just nine years old, Roy Valvas became a ghost in the wizarding economy — both the invisible hand of prosperity and the unseen architect of chaos.