The night in Transylvania was cold and silent — snow falling in slow spirals over the forested hills. Beneath the pale moonlight, a lone figure appeared at the gates of the Rosetti Family Mansion — cloaked in black, his face hidden behind a silver mask shaped like a phoenix.
Guards stiffened when the stranger approached, but the air around him was heavy — ancient, dangerous, like the calm before a storm.
"Tell your master," the masked man said quietly, "that I bring him the key to victory."
Moments later, Roy — though no one there would ever know it was him — was led through the hall of the Rosetti estate, where Lord Silvano Rosetti sat surrounded by his kin and advisors, parchment maps of the Flint territories spread before them.
The Offer
Silvano looked up, eyes wary. "Who are you, stranger? And what makes you think you can aid House Rosetti?"
Roy's tone was even, but carried weight.
"Because I can offer you something no curse or assassin ever could — power that will make the Flints devour themselves."
He raised a gloved hand, and with a flick of his wand, a brief shimmer of light revealed twenty-five vials glowing faintly red — each bottle marked with a sigil that every underground dealer knew well.
The Rosetti hall fell into silence.
"Is that…" one of the men whispered, "…the Berserker Potion? The one from Borgin and Burkes?"
Every eye turned toward the stranger, half in greed, half in fear.
Roy set one of the vials on the table. "Twenty-five doses. Each capable of turning an ordinary wizard into a beast for a short time — strong enough to destroy small fortifications, immune to pain, nearly unstoppable."
He paused, his masked gaze piercing them.
"You said you wanted the Flint family gone. I'm offering you the means."
Silvano leaned forward, voice low. "And your price?"
Roy's answer was calm and exact.
"Market rate — one hundred thousand galleons per potion. Total: two point five million. I know your treasury holds only two million. You can pay one million in gold, and the rest in shares."
Murmurs rippled through the room. Silvano's son hissed, "What shares would equal that value?"But Silvano's eyes were already calculating. "We own twenty percent of the Romanian Dragon Farm, plus holdings in three trading houses…"
Roy's gloved hand tapped the table softly. "Fifteen percent of the Dragon Farm shares. And one million in galleons. That will suffice."
Silvano hesitated — then, slowly, nodded. "Done."
The Transaction
Contracts were drawn. Ancient magic sealed the exchange. The vials glimmered as they were placed into Rosetti hands, each man staring at them as if holding salvation.
"With this," one whispered, "the Flints will crumble within weeks."
Roy said nothing. He simply inclined his head, cloak fluttering as he turned away.As he reached the door, Silvano called after him.
"Who are you, truly? A merchant? A mercenary?"
Roy paused — his voice echoing coldly beneath the mask.
"Neither. Just a man who sells opportunity to those who can't create it."
And then he was gone — swallowed by the darkness outside.
Aftermath
Hours later, the snow-covered streets of France shimmered under moonlight as Roy stepped back into the Valvas Mansion, unmasking himself in his study.
He placed the dragon farm shares and gold on his desk — the spoils of a deal that had already begun rewriting power lines across Eastern Europe.
Moments later, Bela White and Narcissa Black entered, answering his summons.
"These," Roy said, handing them the parchment and sealed shares, "are from a… transaction I want hidden. In four days, make it appear that the Liyue Store bought these assets off the open market. Quietly."
Bela's eyes gleamed with understanding. "Understood, my lord. A black-market acquisition, sanitized through Liyue's front channels."
Narcissa smiled faintly, her tone smooth. "I'll ensure every trace points away from you. The Ministry will never find a thread."
"Good," Roy said softly. "Let the world think the merchant who sold them vanished — and that House Valvas merely made a wise investment."
Four Days Later
By the week's end, the papers were immaculate. To the public eye, Liyue Store had purchased fifteen percent of Romania's Dragon Farm holdings from a collapsed Rosetti subsidiary — perfectly legitimate, and completely untraceable.
In the vault beneath Gringotts, Nagini quietly deposited the gold into Roy's private chamber, whispering the tally to herself.
"Two hundred million galleons," she murmured, eyes gleaming in the torchlight. "And yet, you never spend it for yourself…"
Back in his study, Roy sat beneath the flickering glow of runic candles, reading a silent report from Narcissa.The Rosettis, empowered by the Berserker potions, had destroyed two Flint strongholds overnight.
A faint smile curved his lips.
"And so," he murmured, "the war eats itself — and Valvas profits from both the ashes and the survivors."
The candlelight reflected in his golden eyes — cold, brilliant, and utterly controlled.
"Let the world chase power," he whispered, "while I build it in silence."