Dressed as a Hogwarts portrait

I don't know what rotten smell, sewage and bloody smell, the narrow and tall eaves are piled up crookedly, and there is no light shining into this alley.

"Whoosh."

An old witch stretched out her tongue and licked her chapped upper lip, then quietly submerged herself into the darkness.

It's not like she didn't miss the cloaked kid coming in.

It’s not that he didn’t smell the clean and sunny atmosphere. The cloak is a finished product in a famous shop in Diagon Alley, and it’s very valuable. Such a child may have money on him, no, just a child’s blood is enough Attracts the covetousness of the fearsome wizards here.

However, what was clean and warm was just the smell of the cloak. The child hidden inside walked slowly in the alley, looking at the dark shops on both sides as if looking for something.Those who followed behind were all wizards who were going to surround them, and those hungry stray dogs or crows fled in panic far away.

Be careful to survive.

It doesn't matter if it's a poor old witch like her, or a high-ranking Minister of Magic.

Is it an ignorant child, you will know later.

It is far easier to snatch prey in the hands of the same kind than to face unknown dangers.

The old witch's ugly smile froze before it stayed on her face for ten seconds. She was surprised to see a few impatient guys who had just approached, and before reaching out their dirty and smelly hands, they fell back silently.

Fell to the ground like a heap of useless tattered sacks, with faces in the sewage and noses on stone slabs, without a single groan or curse for mercy.

They are dead.

The people in Knockturn Alley are good at seeing whether a person has money or whether a person has breath.

It was almost unnecessary to look carefully, the old witch shrank in the corner in fear, not daring to move—there were often unprovoked wizards in Knockturn Alley, but few people actually killed people.Former Death Eaters often did, but they preferred to kill people who ran away in panic.

"Borgin-Bock." The crooked sign swayed in the wind.

The guys huddled in the corner trembled slightly, listening to the dull bell ringing with the opened door.

Borgin-Bock is the most famous black magic item shop in Knockturn Alley, and almost all the wizards who can't be bothered go there—the old witch cursed secretly, and left quietly.

Mr. Borgin stood facing the door across two shelves, holding a dirty rag with no visible color in his hand. He was a hunchbacked man with greasy hair, because he didn't miss what just happened outside the store. Everything, so with a strange expression of surprise and caution on his face, he stared at the customers who stepped into the store.

It was just a child, and even though the cloak was tightly wrapped, it was impossible to tell the little goblin from the child. Birkin glanced sideways at the corpse in the alley, and then continued to wipe a crooked skull without saying a word.

"I can't see a single thing of even the slightest value in your place, it's very disrespectful, I can assume these are just used to trick fools who don't know the dark arts into thinking that dry black bones and viscera in bottles are evil thing……"

The low sneer didn't have the immaturity of a child, but looked like a proud nobleman. Bojin frowned, and then continued to wipe, but his fingers twitched convulsively.

"Maybe, there are only a few things that can be called interesting."

In a glass case next to the long twisted rope that made the dreadful sound of twisting the rope was a beautiful opal necklace with a card pinned to it: DO NOT TOUCH! -has been cursed-nineteen Muggles have died so far in possession of it.

"Without the power of the curse, how could opal have such a cool and wonderful brilliance... All terrible black magic items have a cold and seductive light, beautiful appearance, every brilliance seems to be able to breathe, because the thirst for blood The smell of... Slytherin's locket used to be here, didn't it?"

His pale yellow eyes raised slightly, and before Bojin could make any expression to deny it, his eyes were dizzy, and a woman in shabby clothes, with a protruding belly, panicked and downcast, took out a gold coin involuntarily in his mind. The locket...

"Do not!!"

Bo Jin took a big step back, his clothes were soaked in cold sweat, his ugly face was full of fierce expressions, he was gasping for breath, while the person on the opposite side only pulled a icy smile from the corner of his mouth.

He no longer dared to see the person in front of him as a child of a great family with a scary pet or a powerful amulet.

Instigmatism, that is a powerful magic that ordinary wizards do not know.

The already hunchbacked body curled up even more, and Bo Jin was a little annoyed, more out of fear that this secret would be revealed, but prudence still supported him and forced a hypocritical flattering smile: "That thing is no longer here Well, you know, in those years... that man..."

Lowering his voice, Bo Jin secretly sneered humbly.

"Mysterious man? That's right, the Slytherin locket has been in the hands of the Slytherin family for at least 2000 years. I wonder if Mr. Bokin is interested in this item?"

Delicate and white fingers protruded from the cloak, on which lay a brooch inlaid with turquoise on a silver base, beautiful and slender, forming a pattern, no, it was a pattern of several consecutive letters.

Bo Jin looked at that thing vigilantly, with unconcealable greed in his eyes, but he didn't reach out.

"Can't you recognize it?" The deep and elegant voice seemed to Borgin to be sneering.

Very ancient, powerful magic item, and a terrifying dark breath, not a curse, not a blessed spell, no trace of alchemy, but—very familiar?

By the way, it has the same feeling as that locket!

Bo Jin's face turned pale in an instant, but he still stared at the brooch and stretched out his hand involuntarily.

"Very well, you can feel it, Slytherin's cloak brooch, something older than the locket... because it comes from another ancient family..."

"Nyx's favor." Bo Jin carefully took the brooch over with trembling fingers. The cold and gorgeous light symbolized the slender shape of the Greek letter Νικ?, the goddess of the night, Nyx. In the long run, all that remains of the Nyx family is an empty name and a once terrible legend.

"It's too precious, it's too precious, you, you want to sell it..."

Bo Jin raised his head hastily, but bumped into a pair of pale yellow pupils without any emotion, and the terrible pressure almost took away his consciousness instantly.

"Hold the soul and lock the soul."

A turquoise brooch fell from a withered, old finger.

A delicate white hand stretched out and caught it.

Sigh, if it was not a last resort, how could it be touched by such a guy who was as dirty on the outside as on the inside, even if he didn't value the Nyx family's handed down treasures.

"With the soul of this world as the chain, pull the contract that was made..."

Thousands of years later, the people who are sure to touch the locket, Merope and Gaunt's family are dead, and Regulus Black is also dead. The problem of the house elf Kreacher is the same as his purpose, losing his master And there is no way to see the address of the Black House where the secrecy spell was cast. Voldemort is hard to find now, and it is useless to find it. The state of life and death is worse than him now, and the only choice is Borgin, the unlucky guy.

Nyx's favor is not just for you to see.

Smile, cold.

The only Bojin in this world who has touched both a locket and a turquoise brooch at the same time, I don’t want your life, I only need your soul as a guide to lift the spell we cast thousands of years ago and the magic connected to these two things contract.

"...reuniting ancient splendor in one place."

There was a loud pop of air that sounded like an apparition, and old Borgin collapsed on the shelf and passed out. The dusty store was quiet as if nothing had happened.

Dust, it's all dust, flying around is even scarier than Knockturn Alley.

The cloak has fallen to the ground, holding a turquoise brooch in his left hand, and firmly grasping in his right hand the locket connected by a long gold chain. The box is now completely shattered. Under the powerful spell cast thousands of years ago, all protective barriers and family secrets have no effect at all.

Because, it's Slytherin's locket.

No one can stop its owner from getting it back.

12 Grimmauld Place, the ancestral home of the Black family, the room of the youngest son Regulus, if memory is correct, if fate has not changed, he is here now.