After a moment, Lucius and Burke both showed polite, grudgingly friendly smiles. What they truly thought, of course, remained known to none but themselves.
Still, business was business, and with customers arriving, Burke's mood inevitably brightened. Especially now that there was another "Mr. Fawley" present (according to Lucius)—someone capable not only of handling Lucius but of suppressing Marvolio as well. That alone eased his nerves considerably.
"So, what brings the young master of the Fawley family here?" Mr. Burke asked, hands clasped before him, his face full of obsequious enthusiasm. He especially liked dealing with young nobles; they were always generous and rarely picky.
Lucius also glanced at Tver with curiosity. The Fawley family was among the pureblood houses farthest removed from dark magic. It was hard to imagine someone from that family appearing in Knockturn Alley—let alone in Burke's shop.
Tver signaled for Marvolio to keep watch at the entrance. Once Marvolio had stationed himself there, Tver turned to Lucius.
"I came here…" He paused. "For Uncle Lucius."
A subtle, meaningful smile curved his lips. Lucius frowned. Tver's expression made him uneasy, like prey being coaxed into a trap. He even wondered whether this entire encounter had been planned.
Before he could speak, Tver stepped closer and continued.
"I've heard the Malfoy family hasn't been doing well lately. The estate has been raided several times, the servants have left, and more crucially—it seems quite a few people in the Ministry are dissatisfied with you?"
Lucius's gaze darkened.
"That has nothing to do with you. However poorly the Malfoys fare, we're still better off than most families in the wizarding world."
"But Uncle Lucius, do you remember what we discussed last year? Can you really bear to watch the Malfoy name fall this far?
"Or have you not yet seen through Fudge and those politicians?
"When they need you, you're a friend. When they don't, you're… Gringotts."
Tver finished softly.
Lucius didn't explode—not even close. He gave a cold, humorless laugh.
"A thousand years ago, the Malfoy family already understood that. We know those politicians' minds better than anyone."
"But, Tver, Gringotts still makes money."
Tver raised a brow—just as he expected.
"And now? Can the Malfoy branch of Gringotts still earn anything?"
Lucius's cold smile vanished, replaced by irritation. At this point, forget earning money—merely avoiding fines was a blessing.
"When the Ministry bleeds the Malfoy fortune dry, Uncle Lucius… what will you do then?" Tver asked gently.
"Voldemort will return in a few years. But you lost his Horcrux—and then Dumbledore destroyed it. Do you think he'll forgive you?"
"Lucius Malfoy!"
His sudden rise in volume jolted Lucius from his thoughts.
"The Malfoy family stands at a crossroads. Will you wait to decline, or rise to glory once more? The decision lies with you."
Tver tilted his head slightly, gaze calm and cold, carrying an undeniable air of superiority.
Lucius met Tver's eyes, mind racing. The more he thought, the clearer it became—suddenly he understood Tver's strange comments last summer about muggles and the Statute of Secrecy.
He was trying to become a new Dark Lord.
After a long stretch of silence, Lucius finally parted his dry lips.
"Whichever path the Malfoy family chooses… shouldn't it have nothing to do with you?"
His tone lacked confidence. He was afraid—yet also hoping Tver would offer stronger leverage.
Sensing his meaning, Tver's smile deepened.
"Marvolio, why don't you show everyone your other face?"
Lucius was surprised. He'd assumed Tver would demonstrate his own power, like Voldemort had—using overwhelming force to recruit or eliminate.
Instead, he turned toward the doorway.
There, Marvolio had already shifted into another visage, grinning savagely. And that face—Lucius recognized it instantly.
But before he could speak, someone else provided the answer for him.
"Dawlish—!"
Burke, who had been trying his absolute best to remain unnoticed, suddenly shrieked.
He knew this Auror far too well. Over the past year, Dawlish had become the one person nobody in Knockturn Alley dared provoke. His appearance always meant someone was about to suffer—more than half the fugitives he'd captured had been taken down right here.
Sometimes, while Burke was in the middle of a business deal, Dawlish would barge in with his men, all menace and intimidation, dragging away customers he'd been politely negotiating with. And judging from Burke's horrified expression, Dawlish's methods were anything but gentle.
At this point, in Knockturn Alley, "Dawlish" was practically synonymous with the Grim Reaper.
Burke tried to speak again, but when Marvolio's gaze shifted toward him, he swallowed every word instantly.
Meanwhile, the confusion in Lucius's eyes only deepened. He had attended Dawlish's medal ceremony. He knew the man was highly valued in the Ministry—rumored to be next in line for the Head Auror position. And yet this very figure was obediently standing behind Tver.
"If it were just one—"
"The Ministry's surveillance of the Malfoy family will end soon," Tver said calmly.
"...You've pulled so many people to your side within the Ministry. What exactly are you planning? If you intend to overturn the Statute of Secrecy, this won't be enough."
"As someone who once followed Voldemort, have you ever wondered why he failed?" Tver asked.
Marvolio let out a sharp snort.
But Tver ignored him, continuing.
"We both know Voldemort's approach was destined to fail. No one willingly becomes a slave. Once oppression begins, even if Dumbledore didn't exist, someone else—and many more—would rise to resist him."
"Dividing wizards and muggles purely by bloodline is nothing more than a way to gain profit."
"But what if we could gain far greater benefit from muggles?"
"No wizard would be enslaved. No one would need to spill blood. All we need to do is focus on our own craft—use the wonders of magic to help muggles. Even something as simple as healing would make them willingly offer enormous wealth."
"Isn't that how the Malfoy family built its immense fortune a thousand years ago?"
"We only need to support one another. It benefits both wizards and muggles. A new world is waiting for us to create—waiting for us to claim its wealth."
"So tell me—who do you think will support me? Those who cling to Voldemort's ideology, or those who choose my path?"
Tver spread his arms, confidence radiating from every inch of him. A beam of sunlight streamed through the window at the perfect moment, washing over him, blazing like fire.
No—he wasn't like the sun.
He was the sun.