Chapter 28: Heading To The Gathering
“Hanged Man’s Noose;
“Opal Necklace;
“Suffocating Puppet…”
Items that had been placed on the shelves for several years were moved from their original positions, leaving slightly cleaner marks on the dusty wooden planks. They were packed in special parchment to ensure that dark magic or curses would not leak out, then placed in the included wooden box and sealed with a lock.
These steps were somewhat tedious but not complicated. Mr. Borgin immersed himself in the pleasurable busyness, pacing back and forth around the shelves several times, and at the end, he still felt somewhat reluctant to finish.
Mr. Borgin returned behind the counter and looked up to see Professor Levent waiting nearby. He observed the professor’s expression, but unfortunately, he couldn’t discern anything.
Mr. Borgin quickly sobered up, worried that he would haggle the price, and put on a show by sighing: “These things all have quite a history, just with some minor flaws. If you find an artisan skilled in alchemy, you might even be able to restore their former glory. Professor Levent, given our acquaintance, I’m already selling them at a low price, even lower than the price I paid to acquire them back then.”
Melvin glanced at him: “This is clearly only our second meeting, yet our acquaintance is enough for you to give a thirty percent discount. That’s truly surprising.”
“It’s an honor to know Professor Levent.”
Mr. Borgin realized he had no intention of haggling, immediately breaking into a full smile. He pushed up the pince-nez on his face, tallied the bill while asking in a slick tone: “Are you convenient to take these packaged goods now? Our shop offers owl postal service, free of charge, and they can arrive at Hogwarts by this evening…”
Melvin thought for a moment: “Then send them by owl.”
These things were for designing levels and nominally had legitimate uses, but dark magic items were dark magic items— even the defective ones needed to be treated seriously. Bringing them back to school in a suitcase without reporting them felt like somewhat disregarding the headmaster’s authority.
In comparison, owl post was more appropriate. At least when signing for them, Dumbledore could take a look at the list.
It would be even better if he could get the headmaster to reimburse the bill…
“When does the gathering you mentioned in your letter start?”
“In half an hour. We’ll set off immediately.”
……
A “Closed for Business” sign was placed on the inside of the shop window;
Then several warning spells were cast on the brass bell;
He came outside the shop, locked the shop door, and cast several protective spells and an unlock spell on it…
Mr. Borgin meticulously completed the entire process, with steps even more tedious than packaging the cursed goods. This level of caution would definitely score full marks in a Defence Against the Dark Arts exam.
Melvin was slightly silent, gaining new insight into the business environment of Knockturn Alley.
It took five minutes to complete all the anti-theft measures, after which the two formally set off, stepping into the winding alleys of Knockturn Alley.
Knockturn Alley was still dim and damp, with narrow, twisting roads and almost no straight paths—every few steps required turning several corners.
The shops along the street had only a few with signboards. Some shop assistants were brewing unidentified liquids inside, impossible to tell what potions they were; some were airing out moldy herbs and cauldrons; others just sat idly at the door, casting appraising glances only when they passed by.
Expressionless and lifeless.
When passing the neighboring candle shop, Mr. Borgin slowed his pace but deliberately made his footsteps heavier, producing obvious sounds. Before Melvin could ask the reason, he saw the half-open shop door suddenly pulled wide, and a gaunt old wizard poked his head out, shouting at the top of his lungs:
“Borgin! When did you start taking guide jobs?”
“Shut up, you old newt. Keep an eye on my shop.”
“…”
Melvin followed behind Mr. Borgin.
Somewhat surprised, yet it felt reasonable.
Because of their shouting, the accumulated silence in the alley was broken, and the pervasive damp gloom dissipated somewhat. The alley seemed to come alive.
Knockturn Alley was a very special place, existing outside the mainstream wizarding world. Its goods lacked long-term stable distribution channels, had no direct contact with Muggle society, and thus could not obtain cheap living supplies.
He lacked understanding of these shops’ business models, with only some information gleaned from his previous visit to Knockturn Alley.
The merchants and residents rooted here were not true dark wizards. An old witch out shopping would guide the way for a few sickles, providing decent service; a few wizards who blocked the road for robbery pretended to be fierce but knew no powerful evil dark magic, and they completed the deals they negotiated under duress; Mr. Borgin would go to the Leaky Cauldron for a few drinks when idle…
All signs indicated that the wizards here still followed some kind of order.
With no regular business income, what did they live on? Were their children also attending Hogwarts? How many believed in pure-blood supremacy, and how many were Muggle-born?
Many wizards visiting Knockturn Alley for the first time would wonder how these dark wizards and merchants survived.
Melvin asked somewhat puzzled: “Mr. Borgin, Knockturn Alley seems to have few customers usually, and the shops along the street look dismal in business. How have you managed to continue to this day?”
“Because of help from Ministry of Magic officials and pure-blood family gentlemen.”
“Care to explain?”
“Heh heh…”
Mr. Borgin revealed a slick smile: “Ministry of Magic high officials need achievements for promotions, Aurors need to catch criminals to fill Azkaban’s empty rooms. Every so often, they start crackdowns—not just on Knockturn Alley, but also on some pure-blood family gentlemen, especially families that once produced Death Eaters.
“At such times, these esteemed pure-blood wizards need to dispose of some things that can’t see the light of day—perhaps with questionable origins, or the items themselves unclean. They’re valuable collectibles from the past; they don’t want to throw them away on the roadside or destroy them outright. That’s when they come to us.
“Whether illegal dark magic items or banned potions, they sell these things to Knockturn Alley shops—that is, us. We buy at low prices and resell to other countries, like Albania or Africa, and usually make a profit.”
“So that’s how it is.”
The slick merchant paused: “Ministry officials get their achievements, pure-blood families offload their burdens, Azkaban’s Dementors get new treats, and we rats get to fill our bellies. Then comes a relatively peaceful period until the next crackdown.”
“Your business model is cyclical.”
“Different wizards have different ways of surviving.”
“…”
They wound their way forward for more than ten minutes, turning the final corner, and the view suddenly opened up.
The wide, clean street had almost no pedestrians, and the faint sound of car horns from the neighboring street could be heard—a complete Muggle street scene.
While scanning the surroundings, Melvin pieced together a vague map of the nearby area in his mind. From the route they took, he judged this was neither Knockturn Alley nor Diagon Alley, but a block on the outskirts of Charing Cross Road, two streets away from the Leaky Cauldron.
The location of this gathering was an electrical repair community shop.
“…”
Looking up at the shop signboard, Melvin felt a subtle mood.
Holding a wizard secret gathering in a Muggle repair shop felt like magic and technology blooming together. He became even more interested in this gathering.
Melvin followed behind Mr. Borgin, preparing to enter the shop door, when his peripheral vision suddenly caught a suspicious figure nearby.
The figure was draped in a brown linen cloak, hood covering the head, hem adorned with several holes of varying sizes in a somewhat sloppy style, like it was transfigured from a potato sack. He was hiding behind a road sign, quietly sizing up the repair shop’s facade.
All signs indicated he was also here for this gathering.
The suspicious figure seemed extremely nervous, pacing back and forth while occasionally looking up at the repair shop signboard. After hesitating and struggling for several minutes, he still didn’t go in.
While Melvin was observing him, the suspicious figure also noticed the two of them. After a brief hesitation, he turned and hurried away. Perhaps due to panic, his hood flipped open a corner as he turned—not too much, just enough to reveal a lock of red hair.
“Weasley…”
A faint smile tugged at Melvin’s lips.
