"Harry Potter and the Shadows of Merlin"

Dyna exited Gringotts and rushed straight into Knockturn Alley. Conveniently, an alley entrance lay directly across from Gringotts, clearly designed to help certain types of wizards swiftly deposit their ill-gotten gains into the bank.

As soon as he entered Knockturn Alley, a putrid stench hit him. It was an overwhelming blend of half-month-old fermented sauerkraut, rotting meat, and unwashed socks. His nose wrinkled in disgust.

As Dyna's eyes adjusted to the dim, shadowy atmosphere, he became aware of numerous pairs of eyes watching him with greed and ill intent.

"Look, he doesn't even have a wand!"

"And his robes are all worn out!"

"Are you really going to waste time on a pauper like that?"

"You don't get it! A young wizard like him can fetch a nice price—for his flesh and blood!"

"This fool ran into Knockturn Alley without thinking. He should pay for that mistake."

"Hah! Maybe he'll be smarter in his next life!"

Such were the murmurs of Knockturn Alley's lowest scum—and their intentions matched their words.

They began to surround Dyna slowly, wands in hand.

"Gentlemen, are you planning to kill me?" Dyna asked calmly.

"Of course, young man. Isn't it obvious?"

Dyna nodded, as if genuinely pondering it.

"I see. Then I'm allowed to fight back, correct? What's the word... ah, self-defense."

The crowd burst into laughter.

"Hahahaha!"

"Hehehe!"

"Jie jie jie jie..."

"Ehehehe..."

One particularly old hag laughed hysterically. "Young man, I've never seen anyone so bold—or so stupid. Even pure-bloods avoid walking into Knockturn Alley empty-handed! Don't think your little speech will scare us. And next time, remember to bring your wan—"

Before she could finish, a jet of green light shot from Dyna's fingertip.

"Avada Kedavra."

There was no emotion in his voice—just pure, merciless execution. The Killing Curse—the first of the three Unforgivable Curses. No counter-curse existed. Those struck by it died instantly. No exceptions.

Young people in the Eastern Great Country had mockingly nicknamed it Avada Kende Gua—"Avada Chew a Melon."

Now Dyna had just invited the old woman to chew one.

It was the first time he had ever killed someone, in either of his two lives.

Rumor had it that casting the Killing Curse damaged the soul. But at that moment, Dyna's mind felt unusually clear, undisturbed. There was no guilt, no hesitation—only cold clarity.

He raised an eyebrow, then raised his right hand—the finger of death—and aimed it again. The dregs surrounding him had blood on their hands. Not a single innocent among them. They all deserved to die.

He conjured a Shield Charm with his left hand, blocking weak return spells. Most of these criminals were pitifully unskilled, barely even 0.1 Lucius Malfoy's combat ability. To Dyna, they posed no threat.

So he cast with both hands—wandlessly. Shield with one hand, death with the other.

His effortless ambidextrous magic stunned the dark wizards. The shabby-looking youth had suddenly turned into a terrifying monster.

They had severely misjudged him.

They scattered, howling, tripping over each other in their panic, desperate to avoid Dyna's "melons."

In mere seconds, Knockturn Alley, once bustling, now looked freshly cleaned by a Scouring Charm—absolutely deserted.

One unlucky man tripped while running, slamming into a puddle and emerging covered in mud.

But what truly frightened him was the pair of worn boots in front of his face—boots belonging to the grim reaper who'd just slaughtered a dozen people.

The man looked back, trying to identify what had tripped him.

"No need to look," Dyna said casually. "I used Transfiguration."

"Oh, it was Transfiguration," the man muttered in dawning horror. But Dyna hadn't killed him?

"Sir! Please spare me! I didn't know they were going to attack you! I just came to... watch the show!"

Dyna's tone remained cold. "Tell me where Borgin and Burkes is."

The man, sensing hope, answered immediately, "Yes, sir! Keep walking straight. Once you see the Slaughterhouse Club, turn left. Walk about three hundred yards, and you'll see the sign."

Dyna nodded. "Thank you for your cooperation. I wish you a pleasant reincarnation—Avada Kedavra."

He walked away, leaving only silence and corpses behind.

A person emerging from Azkaban should look like they came from Azkaban. Compared to him, even Sirius Black was a poorly made replica.

Originally, Dyna had not been one to kill so easily. Whether it was the trauma of his mother's death or something deeper, he couldn't say. But something inside had shifted. Maybe it was the bloodline fusion—or maybe something darker.

After all, Merlin was a Cambion—half-human, half-demon. The demon blood undoubtedly had its influence.

Following the directions he'd been given, Dyna soon found Borgin and Burkes.

Caractacus Borgin, the owner, was well-known in the dark corners of the wizarding world.

When Dyna pushed open the creaky shop door, a little bell chimed pleasantly—oddly cheery, given the sinister merchandise within.

The shop looked much like it did in the films: dark, cluttered, full of cursed or forbidden artifacts. But the smell—that smell was far worse than imagined. Dyna suspected the foul stench of Knockturn Alley originated right here.

"Ah! A customer," a voice called from behind the counter.

A balding man with a hooked nose emerged. His eyes squinted, his smile overly polite.

"A new face," he said. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Mr. Borgin, proprietor of Borgin and Burkes."

Dyna stepped up to the counter, silently observing him.

Hooked nose, receding hairline, eyes filled with cunning—a classic profiteer's face.

"Sir, what can I help you with?" Borgin asked, already uneasy under Dyna's cold gaze. A murderous aura still clung to Dyna, unhidden.

"This is a dangerous man," Borgin immediately concluded.

"I want to buy information," Dyna said.

Borgin blinked. "Oh... I'm sorry, sir. I only deal in rare alchemical items, not information."

"I know Knockturn Alley has information peddlers," Dyna replied, "but I'm not in the mood to search for them."

He swept his wide sleeve across the counter, depositing a neat pile of golden Galleons.

Borgin's eyes widened. A thousand Galleons, easily.

"My good sir, such generosity! It would be an honor to serve you," he said with an elaborate bow.

"I will find you the information you seek. What would you like to know?"

Dyna's chest tightened as he thought of his mother.

Taking a breath, he said, "Four years ago, in the town of Livingston, a boy named Dyna Avery was chosen by the Avery family as a scapegoat for Gaius Avery and sent to Azkaban. I want to know everyone involved in that affair."

Borgin nodded, trying not to glance at the Galleons again. "Understood. Anything else?"

"Yes. After I was imprisoned, my mother, Anna Avery, tried to get me out. I want to know what she did, who she contacted, and how she died."

"Very well, sir..."

"That's all. I want as much detail as possible. When can I expect it?"

Borgin hesitated. "Ah, it's a... rather obscure case, sir. Four years is a long time, and this is not exactly recent news. It may take—"

Dyna swept his sleeve again. Another thousand Galleons landed on the counter.

"I want accurate answers by August 20th. I'll return that day. If you lie to me…"

He turned and looked toward the entrance of Knockturn Alley.

"I suggest you ask around about what happened there today. That should make the consequences very clear."

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