The lies Of my Brother
One Month Later...
The streets of London thrummed with life under the warm, golden light of a late-August afternoon. The summer heat lingered in the air, blending with the earthy scent of rain-soaked cobblestones from a storm the night before. Julius walked with Violet at his side, his tall frame moving with a measured grace beside her smaller, sprightly figure.
The city felt alive, yet distant. People passed them, chattering, their lives humming with purpose. Julius didn't envy them. He found it easier to remain an observer, especially when Violet spoke, her voice filling the spaces between them with lightness.
Her laughter rang out, drawing a faint smile to his lips. She had her mother's laugh—a sweet, unburdened sound that seemed foreign in his world. Her long, silken hair shimmered as it swayed with each movement, cascading down her back like a silver river. Violet was happiness personified, untouched by the shadows that clung to him.
"Julius, you're staring again," she teased, her tone pulling him from his thoughts.
He blinked, realizing too late that he'd been caught. "Just listening," he replied with a smirk, his voice soft but warm.
Her brow arched in playful skepticism. "Yeah? Then what did I just say?"
He hesitated, chuckling under his breath. "Let's go," he said, redirecting the moment as they reached the Leaky Cauldron.
Violet rolled her eyes but let the matter drop, skipping ahead of him as they entered the pub. Inside, the room was alive with the hum of voices and the clinking of glasses. Julius held the door open, stepping aside to let her through.
For a moment, standing before the familiar threshold, he felt a strange sense of déjà vu. The Leaky Cauldron was a place he avoided whenever possible. It was too public, too open—a place where whispers followed him like shadows. Yet here he was, for her.
Pushing the thought aside, he followed her through the hidden archway into Diagon Alley.
The cobbled street unfolded before them in a spectacle of magic and charm. Brightly colored shop fronts lined the alley, each one bursting with life. Children darted between parents, clutching wands, cauldrons, and other school supplies, their excitement palpable. Violet's eyes lit up, taking in the scene with an almost childlike wonder.
"It never gets old," she said, her voice brimming with excitement.
Julius gave her a small smile, though his eyes scanned the crowd warily. He never liked Diagon Alley, even when he was younger. The charm others found here only deepened his disdain. People in this place were quick to judge, eager to whisper.
As they walked, the murmurs began.
"Orphaned at seventeen...what a tragedy," someone said, their voice low but not low enough.
"A thief," another muttered. "He stole from my shop years ago."
Julius's jaw tightened, but he kept his gaze forward, refusing to acknowledge them. He'd heard it all before—every insult, every rumor. He could handle it, but not in front of Violet. She deserved to be spared the ugliness of his reputation.
"Violet," he said, stopping near Flourish and Blotts. His voice was calm, but there was an edge of resolve. "You go ahead and get your things. I need to finish some business."
Her smile faltered slightly, her brows knitting together in faint worry. "Business" had become a loaded word between them. She knew what it meant and where he was going.
"Alright," she said after a moment, her voice quiet but accepting. She turned, disappearing into the crowd with a backward glance.
Julius waited until she was out of sight before slipping into the shadows, heading toward the darkened entrance of Knockturn Alley. The transition was immediate. The lively buzz of Diagon Alley was replaced by an eerie stillness. The air here was heavier, the light dimmer, and the cobblestones slick with something unidentifiable.
This was his world.
Here, no one whispered behind his back. In Knockturn Alley, respect was earned through power, and Julius had carved out his place with blood and grit. People greeted him with nods and wary glances, acknowledging his presence without question.
Julius stepped through the door of Borgin and Burkes, the faint chime of the bell above announcing his arrival. The air inside was stale, carrying the scent of old wood, dust, and something sharper—like iron. The dimly lit room was a chaotic display of the macabre. Shrunken heads sat on shelves, their hollow eyes seeming to follow his every movement. Glass cases held cursed trinkets, their auras palpable even through the barriers. A gnarled hand, preserved in a jar of cloudy liquid, seemed to twitch as Julius passed by.
Behind the counter stood Burke, a gaunt man with gray, oily hair hanging to his shoulders. His face was as creased as the parchment he often scribbled on, and his sunken eyes darted toward Julius the moment he entered. Burke straightened immediately, his expression twisting into a grin that was more snake than man.
"Ah, Mr. Alas!" Burke exclaimed, his voice a little too loud, a little too eager. "A pleasure, as always. What brings you to my humble shop this fine day?"
Julius didn't waste time with pleasantries. "I'm looking for something. Something the Dark Lord might find...useful."
Burke's smile faltered for just a second before he covered it with an exaggerated laugh. "Oh, but of course! For the Dark Lord, I'd give my finest treasures. Let me see..." He turned, rummaging through a chest behind the counter.
Julius's eyes roamed the shop as Burke searched. A set of blackened tools sat on a table to his right, their edges gleaming ominously. They looked like they had been used for something far more sinister than potion-making. Nearby, a shelf sagged under the weight of ancient books bound in cracked leather, their titles written in faded runes.
Finally, Burke reappeared, holding a small vial in his trembling hands. The liquid inside was a deep, viscous black that seemed to shimmer faintly, as though alive. "This," Burke said, his voice low, "is a poison extracted from the venom of an Acromantula. Extremely rare, nearly undetectable, and lethal in a matter of seconds."
Julius took the vial, holding it up to the dim light. The liquid moved sluggishly, as if reluctant to obey gravity. He tilted it slightly, watching it cling to the sides of the glass like it had a mind of its own.
"How much?" Julius asked, his tone cold and measured.
Burke hesitated, his face paling. "For the Dark Lord...it is a gift. Of course. A small token of my loyalty."
Julius's eyes narrowed. Burke's fear was almost palpable, but there was something else—a flicker of greed that even terror couldn't suppress. The man was hedging his bets, hoping to curry favor while still keeping himself alive.
Before Julius could respond, the bell above the door chimed again.
"Filthy half-blood," came a sharp, drawling voice. "A gift? It should be payment for sparing your miserable life."
Julius turned to see Abraxas Malfoy stride into the shop, his platinum hair gleaming in the dim light. His robes, impeccably tailored and adorned with silver embroidery, swept behind him as he moved. His lips curled in a sneer as his emerald-green eyes locked onto Burke.
Burke's smile evaporated, replaced by a look of pure terror. He opened his mouth to stammer a response, but Abraxas was faster.
Without breaking stride, Abraxas reached the counter, grabbed Burke by the front of his robes, and hoisted him into the air with surprising ease. The shopkeeper let out a strangled yelp as Abraxas held him aloft, his knuckles whitening with the effort.
"You should remember your place, half-blood," Abraxas hissed, his voice venomous. "You exist because we allow it."
Julius watched silently, his expression unreadable. He'd seen this side of Abraxas countless times—the cruelty, the arrogance—but it never failed to leave an impression.
Burke's feet kicked helplessly, his hands clawing at Abraxas's wrist. "P-please," he choked out. "I meant no offense!"
Abraxas sneered, his grip tightening for a moment before he unceremoniously threw Burke to the floor. The older man crumpled in a heap, coughing and wheezing as he scrambled to his knees.
"Pathetic," Abraxas muttered, brushing off his hands as if ridding them of filth.
Julius stepped forward, his voice breaking the tension. "Subtle as always, Abraxas."
Abraxas turned to him, his sneer softening into a smirk. "Subtlety is for the weak, Julius. Fear precedes respect—you'd do well to remember that."
Julius ignored the jab, turning his attention back to Burke, who was still trembling on the floor. "The poison," Julius said, his voice calm but commanding.
Burke scrambled to his feet, his hands shaking as he placed the vial back on the counter. "A-as I said," he stammered, "a gift for the Dark Lord."
"And the rest?" Julius asked, his eyes flicking to the shelves behind the counter.
Burke hesitated, glancing nervously at Abraxas before pulling out a small, intricately carved box. He opened it to reveal three more vials, each containing a different colored liquid.
"This one," Burke said, pointing to a vial filled with a faintly glowing green liquid, "induces hallucinations so vivid they can drive the victim mad." He gestured to the second, a deep crimson. "This is a blood-binder. A single drop mixed with a person's blood will render them completely susceptible to the caster's will."
"And the third?" Julius asked, his voice unreadable.
Burke hesitated, his fingers brushing over the final vial, which held a clear liquid that shimmered like sunlight on water. "It's...experimental," he admitted. "Extracted from an unknown magical creature. I can't guarantee its effects, but I suspect it amplifies magical power—temporarily, of course."
Julius reached out, taking the box and inspecting each vial carefully. He knew better than to trust Burke's claims entirely, but the items were intriguing nonetheless.
Abraxas watched with mild interest, his arms crossed. "Satisfied?" he drawled.
Julius closed the box with a snap, slipping it into his bag. "For now."
As the two men turned to leave, Burke called after them, his voice trembling but eager. "Do let the Dark Lord know that Borgin and Burkes is always at his service!"
Abraxas let out a derisive laugh as they stepped back into the alley. "Groveling worm," he muttered. "One of these days, someone will put him out of his misery."
***
Abraxas wasted no time. The moment Julius stepped into the dimly lit parlor, Abraxas was already seated by the fireplace, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp as a blade. The flickering light cast shadows over his face, accentuating the smirk that played on his lips.
"You missed the last meeting," Abraxas said smoothly, swirling the glass of firewhisky in his hand.
Julius didn't sit. Instead, he leaned against the doorway, his tall frame taut with tension. "I had more pressing matters," he replied curtly, his voice devoid of emotion.
"More pressing than the Dark Lord's summons?" Abraxas's smirk widened, his tone teasing, but there was an edge beneath it.
Julius's eyes narrowed. "I was in Albania, following his orders. You have a problem with that, take it up with him."
Abraxas chuckled, setting his glass down. "Relax, Julius. I'm not questioning your loyalty. But while you've been off chasing ghosts, things have changed." He leaned forward, his expression darkening. "He's taken a position at Hogwarts."
Julius froze. His lips parted slightly, but no words came.
"Defense Against the Dark Arts," Abraxas continued, savoring Julius's reaction. "Can you imagine it? 'Professor Riddle.' It's almost poetic."
Julius's stomach churned. His carefully constructed world, the delicate balance he had fought so hard to maintain, was threatening to collapse. "Why?" he asked, his voice barely audible.
Abraxas tilted his head, feigning thoughtfulness. "I assume he wants to mold the next generation. Or perhaps he's just bored. Who can say?" He paused, his gaze sharpening. "But I couldn't help but think... with him so close to Hogwarts, it's only a matter of time before he learns about your little secret."
Julius's jaw tightened. "Leave her out of this."
Abraxas's smile was venomous. "Oh, I've always admired your devotion, Julius. Stealing food, going hungry so she could eat, keeping her hidden from all of this. It's almost... touching." He leaned back, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "But you can't keep her in the shadows forever. If the Dark Lord finds out—"
"He won't," Julius snapped, his voice cutting through the room like a whip.
Abraxas raised an eyebrow, unfazed by the outburst. "Won't he? He has a way of discovering things, you know. And once he does..." He trailed off, letting the silence speak for itself.
Julius's fists clenched at his sides. Every instinct screamed at him to shut Abraxas up, to wipe that smug expression off his face. But he couldn't afford to lose control. Not here. Not now.
"You've kept her safe this long," Abraxas continued, his tone mockingly sympathetic. "But now? Now she's practically in his backyard. How much longer do you think you can protect her?"
"As long as I have to," Julius said coldly.
Abraxas smirked, rising from his chair. He crossed the room, stopping just inches from Julius. "I wonder what the Dark Lord would think if he knew you'd been hiding a sister all this time. Lying to him. Betraying him."
Julius's hand shot out, gripping Abraxas by the collar and slamming him against the wall. The smirk finally vanished from Abraxas's face, replaced by a flicker of genuine fear.
"Say her name," Julius hissed, his voice low and deadly, "and I'll kill you myself."
For a moment, neither of them moved. The room was suffocatingly quiet, the only sound the crackling of the fire.
Then Abraxas smiled again, a shadow of his earlier arrogance. "I don't need to say her name," he murmured. "Sooner or later, he'll find out. And when he does... you'll wish you had prepared her for what's coming."
Julius released him with a shove, turning away to hide the storm raging in his expression.
Abraxas straightened his robes, smoothing them as though nothing had happened. "You've always been sentimental," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "It'll be your downfall."
Julius didn't respond. His mind was already racing, formulating a plan. He had kept Violet safe for years, sacrificing everything to give her a chance at a life untouched by the horrors of war.
But now, that life was slipping through his fingers. And if he couldn't find a way to protect her...
