When Cassandra pushed open the door, a voice immediately echoed through the toy shop:
"Apologies, this shop is no longer in business. If you're looking for something, you might want to try Borgin and Burkes — they can get you anything."
Cassandra followed the sound, her gaze landing on a figure busy at work in the dimly lit shop. It took her only a moment to recognize him — the same man who, a year ago, had tried to sell her a thousand paper cranes, only for Wentworth to purchase the last one instead.
The man was packing up the shop, seemingly too preoccupied to notice a customer entering.
Cassandra took the initiative.
"Excuse me, do you have any more of those paper cranes from the display window?"
The man froze, turning slowly with a look of surprise. He studied Cassandra before asking hesitantly:
"Miss Cassandra, is that you?"
Cassandra raised her brows.
"You can recognize me even now?"
A bitter smile crept across the man's face as he explained:
"How could I not, Miss Cassandra? That crane — the one that flew from your hands to that gentleman's — was the only one I ever sold."
Cassandra's interest piqued.
"So, you made those cranes yourself?"
The man nodded.
"That's right. They're entirely my own creation — and only I know how to craft them. I've even upgraded them since then. Now they can carry simple messages in real time, and multiple cranes can receive the same message at once!"
His eyes gleamed with pride.
"I dare say, it's an invention that could change the entire wizarding world. Only I — Bors Burke — could create such a thing!"
Cassandra's interest sharpened at the name. She asked cautiously:
"Bors Burke... Are you from the Burke family — one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight?"
Bors's face darkened, and for a moment, he hesitated. Then he let out a bitter laugh.
"Once. Once I was. They struck me from the family records — said I'd tainted the Burke bloodline. All because I married a girl I loved. What a joke. They envy my talents, that's all. They prattle on about the family's glory — what glory? What does the Burke family have left besides the antiques gathering dust in Borgin and Burkes?"
His voice rose to a near shout before falling into a heavy silence.
After a pause, Cassandra glanced at the half-packed shop.
"And this shop of yours?"
Bors's eyes swept fondly over the small space.
"I spent nearly everything I had to rent this place — to prove that the Burke family's future wasn't in that musty old shop. It was in me."
Cassandra's gaze lingered on the boxes and crates.
"But it seems you've failed, haven't you?"
Bors gave a small, defeated nod.
"Yes... I spent everything on perfecting the cranes. The invention succeeded, but the shop couldn't stay afloat. Maybe... maybe I was too ahead of my time. Wizards prefer their slow, clumsy owls — even if they do risk being eaten. Or maybe... maybe the cranes simply cost too much. Each one takes twenty Galleons to make... far more than even a brand-new wand from Ollivanders."
Cassandra's eyes widened at the price, but before she could respond, Bors sighed and gestured to the lone paper crane in the window.
"If you like it, Miss Cassandra, you can have it. It's the last one. I can't bear to throw it away, but seeing it only reminds me of my failure. At least in your hands, it might still serve a purpose."
Cassandra's eyes flicked to the crane, then back to Bors.
"Does it have to be a crane?"
Bors blinked, caught off guard by the question.
"No... I only made them that way because... well, because I met my wife through a paper crane."
Cassandra smiled.
"Bors Burke, today's your lucky day. I'm very interested in your invention — but you'll need to make a set for me. And you'll craft them exactly to my specifications."
Hope flickered in Bors's eyes as he rushed to her side, his hands trembling.
"How many would you like, Miss Cassandra?"
Cassandra reached into her pocket, pulling out a deck of playing cards.
"Fifty-two... no, fifty-three. One for each card."
She placed the deck on the counter, then drew her wand and tapped the top card. The image shifted — a grinning jester in a mask holding a wand. The word Joker shimmered on either side.
"And you'll need to make some... improvements."
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