Chapter 712 - An Evening at Madam Zenarie’s Emporium Ⅳ

A surprising look of understanding dawns upon Sanderson upon understanding the unspoken request. "Avery, you should know better," Sanderson quietly chided the wizard. "I cannot openly slay Mulciber. There are unspoken laws and magics in place that forbid such actions and restrict such movements against him. The treatise that exists between the purebloods and the rulers of the shadows will not permit me otherwise."

"I am acutely aware," Avery Sr. said with a frightening expression. "That is why I am not requesting for Mulciber Sr. to die in his son's place for the culprit is already dead. However, Damian Mulciber did not possess the capabilities nor knowledge to go about acquiring a Babylon Candle. No, Damian Mulciber could have only acquired such an item from one individual alone, his father, Mulciber Sr."

"Vengeance, is it?" Sanderson curtly said. "Is that your true desire, Avery?"

"I will settle for nothing less," Avery Sr. mercilessly answered. "What I desire above all is a living death for Mulciber, unable to speak nor move trapped in his own body. The body that he was once so proud of will become his hellish prison until completely madness overwhelms him leaving behind nothing but an empty, breathing husk."

Sanderson lets out an impressed low whistle, before flashing a wolfish smile. "And what will I gain in exchange for going about such absurd lengths, Avery?"

Avery turns to glance at Rosier Sr. who snarls back. "All that we know regarding the Dark Lord," Rosier Sr. bitterly barked. For they knew much more than they ought to know.

"And what use is the knowledge of the Dark Lord and his followers?" Sanderson retorted. It was a lie as he was required to do so by Reginald Prince and to avenge the death of his cousin, Adric, who had mysteriously disappeared murdered most foully. As the deceased Rain Man had once said in the past that if he followed the snake, he would find that which he sought.

"And what if we said that the Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort, and Tom Marvolo Riddle were the same individual?" Avery Sr. eloquently said causing Sanderson to physically shake at the response. Such bloodthirst and rage flashed across the face of Sanderson causing the two pureblood wizards to be taken back at the unhidden response.

A knowing confident gleam appears in Avery Sr.'s eyes at the telling reaction of the Potentate of London. He had the Potentate of London right where he wanted. And far more importantly, they had discovered Sanderson's soft underbelly. It was a weakness; they could continue to exploit it in the future.

Sanderson shakes uncontrollably with hatred at the mere mention of THAT name, TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE. It took some time to suppress his emotions far longer than he was comfortable with. He knew that he had revealed far too much in his emotional display-. Taking long shuddering breathes, he regains control of his turbulent, surging emotions.

Raising an icy stark gaze to the two pureblood wizards, in a harsh voice, Sanderson asks, "I will not tolerate any falsehoods nor fabrications on this matter. Did you speak truthfully, Avery concerning the identity of the wizard known as Tom Marvolo Riddle?"

"Indeed," Avery Sr. coolly answered with a Cheshire-like grin that did not hold a single hint of friendliness. "Tom Marvolo Riddle even has the audacity to make an anagram of his MUGGLE name and use it as his current name. It reads as 'I AM LORD VOLDEMORT."

Avery Sr. let out a low snicker with his lips barely refraining from forming a sneer. "Envy is such a terrible thing to behold in its full form. Here we witness a half-blood's actions of wishing to be a full and true-bred pureblood. However, Tom Marvolo Riddle cannot outrun his muggle roots. Why even his self-chosen name of Lord Voldemort is formed from his muggle father's name. It is terribly ironic might I add."

Avery Sr. paused and glanced at Rosier Sr. who knew on Riddle and the VERY sensitive subject. Rosier Sr. 's lips curl into a vicious sneer. "As Avery said, it is ironic really, considering that the murderer of your son and his followers have been running around London practically unenc.u.mbered. Oh, yes, the Potentate of London has been searching for clues how many years now is it?"

"Enough!" Sanderson thundered with murder plain in his gaze, before turning his gaze to Rosier Sr. "And I presume that is also why you want him dead, Rosier!?"

"My boy is dead," Rosier Sr. scoffed back. "And I am not the only one that desires his head on a silver platter. I am certain that the Old Prince wants his head for his wife's death and Lucius Malfoy for that of his father. And those are only a few to mention not including the recent murder of Damocles Belby. Tom Marvolo Riddle is a poisonous hazard to the wizarding world; he must be eliminated."

Unable to repute neither pureblood words, Sanderson curtly nods his head at the two pureblood wizards in acceptance. "Very well then, we have an accord," he flatly hissed. "I trust that we will ALL fulfill our end of the bargain?"

"Naturally," Avery Sr. gravely replied, "our dead must be avenged."

Sanderson slowly nods his head in acknowledgment of the pureblood's words. He did not need to like these two purebloods to work in conjunction with them to avenge their losses. For they would all be avenged especially that of his own son.

Avery Sr. and Rosier Sr. excuse themselves with a curt nod, before striding out of the chamber, and roughly shutting the door behind them. Alone in the chamber, Sanderson's face fills with old pain and sorrow. His face suddenly looks his age very much, wrinkled with the passage of time.

Sanderson recalls his dead son from many years ago, John. John had always been a sweet and excitable boy even in his childhood. His boy had not wanted to go into the business like his eldest and truthfully Sanderson had not protested. His boy was far too soft to survive in his world, and he'd permitted his boy to explore his options.

Still, wanting to help the family, John decided to open a shop. However, lacking any experience in the shopkeeping business, Sanderson had found a shop with dealings in the underworld to take his son as a shopkeeper's apprentice. In this manner, he'd have some control over the shop and be able to have a say in his boy's apprenticeship. He knew very well that apprentices weren't always treated with care by their master's if not outright exploited in the worst of manners.

John has been eager to commence an apprenticeship at Borgin and Burkes. In time, he came to work alongside a recent graduate from Hogwarts. Tom Marvolo Riddle was a handsome, but rather charming lad by all accounts. Sanderson had seen the gleam of interest in his son's eyes at the mention of the other apprentice shopkeeper. He'd always known that his younger son had more than a passing fancy in lads having always liked lads over lasses. Perhaps, he would have minded had he not had an elder son, who took interest in the family business.

Sanderson tiredly closes his eyes as he recalls that fateful evening. He'd been busy at the Monarch Pub, and he'd had no time to listen to his John's ramblings. How he wished he had listened to his youngest son, but he had not. All he heard that day was that if something happened to him to look for the other apprentice at the shop, Tom. His boy had never returned home that night or the next nor evermore.

Sanderson had sent his men in droves to search for his boy but his men had found nothing to his and his wife, Clarice's intence despair. It was at the moment and as to the reason why Sanderson had at last relented and permitted the Rain Man's presence in London in exchange for finding his son and his killer. Quickly enough his son's corpse had been found carefully hidden in a secluded area, but his killer, Tom Marvolo Riddle had vanished with the wind. And the Rain Man even with the aid of the Spirits had been able to divine beyond that.

"A life for a life," Sanderson whispered as he slowly opened his eyes and uttered the same words that Reginald had once spoken to him in the past. "A life for a life, the debt must be repaid, Sanguis Enim Sanguis." With cold decisiveness, he rises to his feet. He had a culling to prepare and a pact with the Ministry of Magic to fulfill. And that he would.

However, before then, Sanderson would write to Reginald Prince with the news. He was not certain what the old Prince would make of it. But he knew for a fact that with the revelation, the old Prince would begin to sharpen his weapons. He'd not move until he was certain of the kill. And Reginald Prince had never lost a duel to the death not even once.