I became Voldemort

Chapter 138: Voldemort in Action

"Reveal your secrets to me!"

In the shadows of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, a young wizard cruelly extended his wand, forcefully prying open the mind of a goblin.

Just recently, Voldemort had arrived at Knockturn Alley.

This place, adjacent to the famous Diagon Alley, was home to the most Dark Wizards in the entire British wizarding world.

Despite being only a wall apart, they were as distinct as noon and night.

Diagon Alley was prosperous, but Knockturn Alley was filthy and foul-smelling.

The wizards lurking here, even among Dark Wizards, were of the lowest rank.

Rather than wizards, they resembled flocks of scavenging vultures, fighting and tearing at each other over rotting corpses.

However, this only described the homeless.

In contrast, some wizards managed to carve out a place in Knockturn Alley and were quite different.

One of the more famous ones was Borgin of Borgin and Burkes. His real name was Caractacus Burke, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Though he appeared shabby and unkempt, even someone like Lucious Malfoy would respectfully call him "sir."

Even when the Ministry of Magic strictly investigated Dark magical artifacts, he could still accept Malfoy's illicit items without fear.

Not to mention, even Tom Riddle had once apprenticed under him.

Of course, Riddle's intentions were far from pure. He was actually selecting valuable items to be made into Horcruxes.

However, Voldemort's current goal wasn't Borgin and Burkes' magical shop.

He needed to obtain some dragon's blood, and ideally, unicorn's blood as well, to prolong the functionality of his pitiable shell of a body.

Knockturn Alley had several potion shops, but the most well-known was Travers' Apothecary.

The Travers family, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, was likely one of the few families capable of standing firmly like a rock in the midst of a rushing river.

The shop's proprietor was an elderly, hunchbacked witch, her face covered in layers of age spots and wrinkled skin that seemed to sag into folds, nearly obscuring her eyes.

She seemed to exude the breath of death just by standing there.

In fact, Voldemort remembered her looking exactly like this about fifty years ago.

He found nothing unusual about it.

He didn't think it was strange because, in the magic world, there were many people who had the ability to extend their lifespan. It was indeed rare to live for six hundred years like Nicolas Flamel, but wizards around two hundred years old could still be seen occasionally.

Otherwise, Snape wouldn't have boasted in his classes that potions could defy death.

Voldemort himself looked down on these ways of "immortality". Aging was another kind of death. He not only wanted eternal life but also eternal youth! Eternal power!

"What would you like to order?" Seeing that there were customers in her shop, the old Ms. Travers asked slowly.

Her movements were slow and trembling as if she might fall apart at any moment. "Polyjuice potion? Felix Felicis? There are also some other banned potions that can be bought, but the price is-"

"I need an ounce of dragon's blood," Voldemort rasped.

"Dragon's blood?" Mrs. Travers' eyelids seemed to lift slightly, a hint of surprise appearing on her heavily wrinkled face. She hadn't expected someone to come to such a place specifically to buy a single ingredient.

She scrutinized Voldemort with a peculiar expression. After a while, she finally spoke, "You look somewhat familiar. What's your surname, child?"

"Wolse," Riddle replied offhandedly.

"Wolse?" Travers pondered for a moment, unable to recall anyone or anything associated with that name from her memory. Eventually, she gave up.

No matter what that name represented, it wasn't important as long as he was a customer.

"Just dragon's blood?"

"If you have it, unicorn blood would be even better," Voldemort said slowly.

Mrs. Travers seemed more surprised than before. Her eyelids lifted, revealing a pair of murky eyes.

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

"From your tone, it sounds like you have some?" Voldemort's eyes lit up.

"Normally, I wouldn't, but your luck is good. Not long ago, a smuggled young unicorn ended up in my hands. Beautiful creature, but it couldn't be saved. I drained its blood and skinned it," Mrs. Travers said, and she looked so creepy.

"Bring it here!" Voldemort demanded urgently.

Ms. Travers slowly took out a large bottle of silver blood.

"Look at it, how beautiful. But the blood of a unicorn that died with hatred is cursed. It will turn someone into a half-dead creature. I was planning to use it to brew some poisons, but... if you want it, it's yours for 258 Galleons."

Mrs. Travers didn't care what Voldemort intended to do with the unicorn blood; she only offered a warning because he looked familiar.

As for Voldemort, he cared even less. It wasn't his money being spent, nor would he be the one cursed.

Of course, he wouldn't drink the blood immediately. Drinking unicorn blood was painful, and he wouldn't show his vulnerable side to a stranger. In fact, Voldemort didn't trust any of his subordinates either.

Having purchased the blood he needed, Voldemort intended to find a secluded place to drink it. However, as soon as he left Knockturn Alley, he sensed something amiss—the goblins seemed unusually tense.

From the appearance of Gringotts, it can be seen that something is wrong. Today, Gringotts has strengthened its guards. Although the defense level of Gringotts has been greatly improved after the attack two years ago, it was the first time that Voldemort had seen a scene like today where wizards were not allowed 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. Even a few goblins left in secret and quietly turned to a remote corner.

Voldemort immediately realized something significant was happening inside Gringotts. Remembering the recent conflict in the Scottish Highlands, it didn't take him long to deduce the cause.

Ancient magic.

It seemed the person he had been seeking was right before his eyes.

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

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