The flames swallowed Harry and Zabini, their bodies twisting in a nauseating whirl beneath the Invisibility Cloak. When the sensation subsided, they found themselves in Knockturn Alley, the sign above them stark against the sunlight. The street's dilapidated, decadent air clashed with the bright day, an unsettling contrast that set Harry's nerves on edge.
"Let's go, Harry," Zabini whispered, his voice muffled by the silencing runes etched onto parchment beneath their cloak. "That shop first." Thanks to Harry's insistence, both had inscribed the runes, ensuring their words and footsteps remained unheard.
"Think we'll find it?" Harry asked, his voice low.
Zabini snorted. "Not holding my breath. Just killing time, really."
They trailed a tall, pale man into a shop labeled Antique Bookstore. Unlike Flourish and Blotts, its shelves brimmed with ancient tomes, their leather bindings exuding age and secrets. The man approached the unmanned counter, carelessly tossing a handful of Galleons from a sack.
How many Galleons was that?! Harry's mind reeled. He'd never seen such wealth spent so casually. As he gaped, the coins vanished, and the man, with a satisfied smirk, plucked a book from the shelf.
"Good work," he murmured, flipping through what appeared to be a cookbook. Zabini nudged Harry, passing him a magnifying glass.
"Look closer," Zabini hissed. "That's no cookbook."
Peering through the glass, Harry saw the truth: pages filled with dark magic theory, specifically the amplification principles of Protego Diabolica. He'd encountered this before, in forbidden texts.
"Zabini, this place…" Harry began.
"It's a front," Zabini cut in. "Looks like an antique bookstore, but it's peddling dark magic tomes. Illegal, obviously. A magnet for shady types chasing forbidden knowledge."
Zabini snapped a photo of the man's face, capturing it alongside one from his bag. "No clue what this guy wants with dark magic, but it's illegal. We'll pass this to Sirius."
Harry nodded, unease settling in his gut. "…Yeah."
"Illegal, Harry. Show some remorse," Zabini muttered.
Harry's discomfort deepened. He'd stumbled across similar knowledge in Hogwarts' library for free, yet this man had paid a fortune for it. Owning dark magic items was illegal, but wasn't this man, in his own way, showing more respect for the knowledge than Harry had?
The man browsed further, selecting books on dark creature breeding, gruesome torture experiments conducted on Aurors, and 19th-century human experiments on Muggles using dark magic. He paid more Galleons for the torture and human experiment texts, his expression unreadable.
"This guy's unhinged," Zabini said, disgust lacing his voice. "Who'd want this stuff?"
Harry, steadied by Zabini's reaction, considered the man's motives. "Maybe he's… scientific," he ventured. "Wanted records of magical experiments. You can't know if something works without testing it, and if he's too cautious to break the law himself, he'd rely on past records."
Zabini's silence spoke volumes, his expression darkening. Harry's thoughts drifted to the man's quiet intensity. Maybe he's a coward like me.
"This place collects and stores that kind of twisted knowledge," Harry murmured, half to himself.
Zabini's scowl deepened. "Shut it. Don't you dare compare yourself to him. Makes me sick."
They followed the man out, watching as he took a deep breath and Disapparated. "Got the book's cover and his face," Zabini said, glaring at the empty air. "Sirius'll handle him."
Unless he was disguised… Harry thought, recalling Polyjuice Potion but keeping it to himself. Carrow, he remembered, had roamed these streets openly.
Harry's mind churned. He'd have to explain this to Sirius, who wouldn't be pleased about their Knockturn Alley excursion. He'd need to frame it as a chance encounter.
Next, they trailed a dark-haired witch into a cosmetics shop, its shelves lined with seemingly legitimate products. The witch, introducing herself as Fina, handed the elderly shopkeeper a Galleon and whispered, "Memento Mori." The old woman grinned, waved her wand, and the shelves twisted, revealing rows of illegal potions.
Fina haggled briefly before purchasing two vials of Sofu potion—known as the "false elixir of life," a banned substance listed among the most dangerous magical poisons. Brewed with mercury, it granted fleeting vitality at the cost of a slow, inevitable death. Harry trembled, struck by the casual criminality.
Even someone unrelated to You-Know-Who commits crimes so easily…
He hoped she'd bought it for a benign purpose, like disposing of dangerous magical creatures. But no one legitimate would shop here.
"Harry, you okay?" Zabini prodded, noticing his pallor.
Harry pointed to a nearby vial, avoiding the truth. "Just… shocked. All these dangerous poisons. That one's made with poppies—caused a huge scandal when exported to China. They're still making it…"
"Potions? That's poison," Zabini corrected.
"…Yeah, a narcotic," Harry admitted reluctantly.
Zabini's hands shook, whether from fear or fury, as he exhaled sharply. "I'm photographing everything. Might take a bit, alright?"
"Go for it," Harry said, trusting him.
Unbeknownst to Harry, Zabini had a deeper motive. His mother's history—likely tied to a murder, perhaps multiple—haunted him. He sought evidence of a curse, potion, or untraceable magical item she might have used. His mother had dodged Azkaban despite repeated charges, not due to luck but cunning. Zabini suspected she'd used an undetectable, non-residual potion to kill his stepfathers, erased before the Ministry could investigate.
As Zabini photographed the disguised potions, Harry studied the vials, pondering their ingredients. Poison and potion are two sides of the same coin, but this… it's like crystallized malice.
He imagined Snape's reaction to this shop—first raging at the fools brewing illegal potions, then dissecting their properties with unmatched precision, dismissing most as subpar. As Fina left and Disapparated, Harry and Zabini slipped out, their unease lingering.
"What's next, Zabini?" Harry asked. "I'm fine heading back. McGillis doesn't seem to be here."
Their visit had started because Harry mentioned McGillis getting questioned by Sirius. Zabini had come to find him but ended up fixated on documenting illegal dealings, driven by a mix of justice and personal vendetta.
"Let's keep looking," Zabini said. "We've got time till dark."
"Alright," Harry replied, gripping his wand tightly.
Knockturn Alley teemed with unsavory figures: a pale couple resembling vampires, a woman with octopus-like tentacles sprouting from her body, and aggressive witches and wizards hawking wares. Their restless, predatory gazes reminded Harry of Quirrell. Yet what unsettled him more were the ordinary types—an elderly wizard with a gentle air, a plump housewife—visiting the same dark shops. Dark magic lures even 'normal' people into ruin, like a drug.
As dusk fell, they spotted an unexpected figure: an elderly wizard in a navy robe, accompanied by a girl they recognized.
"Daphne Greengrass…?" Harry whispered.
The girl, lips painted with unfamiliar lipstick and a sunhat pulled low, walked with Daphne's distinctive gait—slow and deliberate, unlike her Slytherin friends Pansy, Millicent, or Tracey. Harry had learned to distinguish them by their footsteps.
"No way… that's her dad," Zabini confirmed, peering through the magnifying glass.
Harry hesitated, but Zabini's resolve hardened. "Let's go. Carefully."
They followed Daphne and her father into Borgin and Burkes, an antique shop openly displaying dark magic items, unlike the others' subtlety. Harry blinked, stunned.
"They're so blatant… does that mean they're licensed?" Zabini wondered.
"But owning or buying dark items, knowing their effects, is illegal, right?" Harry countered.
"Yeah."
They watched as Mr. Greengrass offered an antique pocket watch, demanding a steep price. Harry and Zabini relaxed briefly, assuming he was just selling, not buying—until the shopkeeper inquired about its effects.
"It distorts the wearer's sense of time," Greengrass explained. "A minute can feel like a second, or a second like a minute, controlled by the second and hour hands. Shall I demonstrate?"
"No, Father!" Daphne pleaded.
"Sir, please," the shopkeeper interjected. "This shop holds rare, dangerous items. No magic here."
Ignoring them, Greengrass used his wand to force the watch into Daphne's hands. Harry raised his wand, but Zabini grabbed him. "Stop! We don't know how to reverse it!"
Daphne froze, her terrified expression locked in place. Greengrass set off a firecracker by her ear, but she didn't flinch, her face a mask of fear.
"What… remarkable," the shopkeeper stammered. "But the young lady seems unwell?"
"She'll be fine once it's removed," Greengrass said, levitating the watch away. Daphne screamed, collapsing as time's weight hit her.
Harry instinctively shielded her. Zabini, unnoticed, flicked a pebble at Greengrass's head.
"What was that?!" Greengrass snapped.
"No magic, sir!" the shopkeeper pleaded.
"Who do you think you're ordering around?!"
"Let's go!" Zabini hissed.
"Sorry, Daphne. I couldn't help you right away," Harry whispered, tossing a smoke bomb at Greengrass. As the shopkeeper and Greengrass argued, they fled to the nearest fireplace.
Greengrass's Thoughts
My eldest daughter can't even befriend the Malfoy heir or the Potter boy, and her grades trail Parkinson's girl. What a waste. I've spoiled her too long…
Time for a lesson. There's that dark item in the warehouse. Perfect for discipline.