Chapter 8: Doing Business
Narrow and gloomy.
This was the first impression Melvin had of Knockturn Alley.
The path was almost half as narrow as Diagon Alley, with crooked shops packed on both sides. The eaves were extremely low, and sunlight did not penetrate. As soon as he entered the alley, his vision blurred, and a slight chill enveloped his entire body.
The corners of the walls were covered with sticky black mud, and mold spread freely.
He felt a sticky sensation under his feet, and before Melvin could look down, a sharp, piercing voice suddenly rang in his ears.
"Are you lost, dear?"
An old witch appeared out of nowhere and stood in front of him.
Melvin detected the smell of fish, of rotten fish guts. He looked down and saw it came from the wicker basket she carried. The basket was covered with a layer of linen, so he could not see its contents. He could only see a dark red liquid seeping through the cracks of the wicker and dripping onto the stone slabs.
Ignorant of the witch's motives and unconcerned with her affairs, Melvin threw a few silver Sickles into the basket. "Take me to Borgin and Burke. If I arrive safe and sound, the rest will be fine."
"At your service,"
the witch forced a radiant smile, revealing moss-covered teeth. "This way. I will guide you. Those sewer rats won't bother you."
Melvin, an expert in following the host's wishes, raised no objections.
Following the witch through an even narrower alley, he felt another sticky sensation under his feet. He looked down and saw moss growing in the cracks of the stones, along with a dark, semi-dry slime that looked like animal blood.
The further he went, the gloomier the view became.
Occasionally, a pedestrian in a long robe hurried past, hood low, revealing only a small chin or scales.
As a commercial street, Knockturn Alley was lined with shops on both sides. Almost no signs were visible, with only a few items displayed in windows: carefully arranged shrunken human heads, giant acromantulas in black iron cages, troll skins stretched in wooden frames, brass bells with finger-bone clappers...
Some shops even had employees soliciting customers.
A wizard of uncertain age crouched in a doorway, with a somber and serene gaze, while whispers emanated from inside.
Seeing him frown slightly, the old witch lowered her voice and explained: "Don't be afraid! Those are not human or wizard heads or finger bones, but house-elves'."
Melvin looked away. "How far?"
"Just past that candle shop."
The candle shop appeared immediately, with its old wooden sign in front, preserved by the wax of dead flies. The words were barely legible: Knockturn Alley 12.
Further ahead was Borgin and Burke's, the only shop in Knockturn Alley with a readable sign.
The old witch received the final payment of seven silver Sickles. She smiled radiantly; the moss on her teeth was a soft green. "Do you want me to guide you back, sir? A few copper knuts would suffice."
"No, thank you."
"Happy shopping."
Melvin watched the figure carrying the wicker basket disappear into the distance. He looked up at the shop sign. The black lacquer was chipped and dented, and the brass name, stained with green rust, was slightly tilted; the last letter swayed as if it might fall and hit passersby.
The window glass was covered with grime, like eye mucus, with only a small transparent area in the center, where someone had wiped it with their palm. Unfortunately, the glass was old, making it difficult to see the merchandise.
Opening the shop door, the rusty brass bell rang loudly.
A bone ornament hung from the frame. The bones were thin and hollow, probably the pubic bones of some bird, and produced a dull sound when hitting the door. Several kerosene lamps hung from the ceiling, with shades obstructed by insect corpses. The room was filled with a faint smell of mold and decay.
A hunched man appeared behind the counter, running a hand through his straight hair. He squinted as he looked Melvin up and down. Noticing a new face, he immediately brightened. His gaze shifted to the ring on his left hand, pausing briefly before giving a flattering smile.
"Welcome, stranger. How shall I call you?" His tone was greasier than his hair.
"William,"
said Melvin without blinking. That was the name of a Pukki at Ilvermorny.
"Dear Mr. William, it's a pleasure to meet you. How may I help you?"
"I need something I cannot buy anywhere else,"
said Melvin indifferently. He did not approach the counter, instead strolling naturally through the aisles between shelves, examining the merchandise.
"Borgin and Burke's is a wise choice for you." Mr. Borgin took the initiative and approached the counter, presenting it with a polished voice. "This one in front of you is called the Hand of Glory. Hold a candle in it, and only the holder can see the light. It is a good friend to thieves and raiders."
It was a withered hand, including the forearm and palm, with pale, shriveled flesh. The arm had become the base and handle, and the palm served as the candlestick, with the five fingers slightly closed.
Melvin feigned disgust. "Sounds like something despicable for thieves and raiders."
"Sometimes, it can be used unexpectedly."
"Then wrap it for me."
"What?" Mr. Borgin was astonished.
"I said wrap it for me. I want this Hand of Glory."
"But you haven't asked the price yet..."
"As this is our first transaction, consider it my sincerity. I believe Mr. Borgin will be equally sincere." Melvin turned his head and looked him in the eyes. "Isn't that right?"
"A pleasure, sir."
Mr. Borgin looked into his deep, dark eyes and was about to make a great offer when he suddenly froze. He hesitated for a few seconds before whispering, "Forty-three Galleons. That's the price I received from the Bulstrode family ten years ago."
"Fifty, Mr. Borgin. This is not a one-time deal," said Melvin softly.
"I appreciate your generosity." Mr. Borgin's tone was much more sincere.
"Now let's continue and see what other interesting things we have in the shop."
The harsh voice resonated again in the dim shop, occasionally interspersed with brief comments.
"This is a hanging rope. Three hundred years ago, a wizard transformed 'Quick Imprisonment' into dark magic. The thick rope from the wand no longer binds or imprisons the enemy but suspends them..."
"Excellent dark magic. While suspended, the enemy cannot cast spells, and not being able to cast spells also means they cannot free themselves."
"Yes, this rope is made from the skins of seven wizards and the hair of six witches who were hanged. It was soaked and tanned in mermaid blood on a full moon night. The magical power of resentment and curse fermented within it, and it can silently wrap around the neck of a sleeping wizard, letting them sleep forever."
Any wizard of normal intelligence, even a Muggle, should be able to free themselves before being strangled.
"Look at this, an opal necklace. The ancient and ruthless curse has claimed the lives of 19 Muggles."
"The curse has nearly dissipated."
"The choking puppet, with rubies embedded in the eye sockets. Whenever someone lowers their guard in front of it, its fingers contract and point at the back of the client's neck..."
"And then the angry person smashes it with their fist?"
"The vanishing cabinet, a cabinet that can make objects disappear and reappear, and can be used to hide or transport magical objects."
"Where is the other half?"
"..."
After choosing, Melvin bought nothing else, but Mr. Borgin merely smiled bitterly, unable to argue.
Knockturn Alley has developed to this day, and the Ministry of Magic has more or less tacitly allowed it. It's not that they cannot control it, but they do not want strict control.
As long as the gutter rats do not run out to cause trouble in broad daylight, domestic cats will not chase them into the sewers. As long as these dark wizards do not go out to murder wizards and Muggles, aurors will leave them alone.
Borgin and Burke hide deep in Knockturn Alley, and must consider the Ministry of Magic's image and dare not openly sell overly dangerous dark magic items. The remaining items only sound powerful, and using them to curse and murder wizards would merely serve as a joke.
After presenting the last item, Mr. Borgin's polished voice grew harsh and offered a dry excuse: "The items in our shop are rare and ancient magical artifacts, inherited from exceptional wizarding families."
"But I need something a bit more novel."
Mr. Borgin paused and asked hesitantly: "What do you mean?"
"An artifact that combines magic and Muggle technology."
Melvin's voice was soft, but Mr. Borgin understood clearly. He instinctively wanted to reply but again met those dark eyes.
"Mr. William, I neither deceive nor hide anything from you."
Mr. Borgin's face filled with hesitation and struggle. "Muggles make many interesting artifacts. Some wizards enjoy these things and are eager to modify them. In Knockturn Alley, they used to sell them, like crystal candles with metal wicks that could be lit with magic. There were also bicycles and alarm clocks..."
Melvin was intrigued.
But after Umbridge took over the Office for Misuse of Muggle Artifacts, she tightened censorship on such matters. She sees it as a promotional achievement and wants to send any wizard touching Muggle objects to Azkaban. Now, no one dares to do this business.
Melvin frowned slightly but insisted: "Is there nothing they can do?"
Mr. Borgin shook his head; he wanted to speak but stopped.
He lowered his head and thought for a few seconds; his accumulated sincerity and goodwill had an effect. He hesitated and said: "Nobody does business. Some wizards simply have a hobby and work on this privately, communicating only with like-minded people..."
"Do they have photography materials?"
"I cannot give you exact information right now," Mr. Borgin denied. "I only know they work with Muggle objects. What they are researching and what they have created is known only to them... If you need something in this area, I can introduce you to someone."
Melvin had just arrived in London and knew no other intermediaries, so he accepted.
They exchanged contact information, a one-way and anonymous exchange.
Melvin was in a good mood after leaving Borgin and Burke. Although he did not buy what he wanted, his shopping trip was not entirely fruitless. Even if he returned empty-handed, he at least knew that a group of wizards was beginning to explore Muggle technology.
These were good news for the Muggle Studies professor, who had not yet started.
At dusk, the sky darkened.
Melvin, clutching the beautifully packaged wooden box, returned through the narrow streets of Knockturn Alley.
Night fell a little faster than expected. Some shops had already closed, while others had hung copper lamps with lit candles inside. The dim light did not illuminate the street, making it even more unsettling.
Knockturn Alley was not crowded at night. Dark wizards are human too and are not usually nocturnal.
Passing by a shop of acromantulas, Melvin slowed. He remembered that this shop used to have a troll-skin vendor next to it. Now, it had become an alley, barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side, surrounded by brick walls.
After a moment of thought, Melvin entered. At least he was going in the right direction.
The alley grew increasingly silent.
Turning the corner, Melvin stopped.
Two hooded figures stood in front of him, their boots crunching against rat skulls in the cracks of the stone slabs.
He heard a noise behind him and, turning, saw two figures appear from behind. They were surrounded by brick walls, and it was unclear where they had come from.
"..." Melvin felt relieved.
Knockturn Alley was famous as a gathering place for dark wizards, but during the day, it looked the same. Aside from the intimidating merchandise, it did not seem particularly impressive. Mr. Borgin was a law-abiding businessman.
He had assumed that dark wizards had achieved a delicate balance of intimidation, creating a harmonious street.
Unexpectedly, the main business did not take place in the shop, but deep in the alley.
Knockturn Alley had no streetlamps, and with no shops on both sides, the area was lit only by dim sunlight. Melvin observed the four dark wizards. All seemed seasoned veterans, wearing moleskin masks and linen cloaks. Each exuded the scent of dragon-claw dust, preventing aurors from tracking them by smell.
While Melvin observed the four, they also watched him.
"I hear there's a new customer in Knockturn Alley?" asked a hoarse voice beneath a moleskin mask. "In Knockturn Alley, it's not just the old Borgin's shop, other products are worth buying too."
"Have you really come to do business?" "Cash on delivery." "What do you sell?" "A map of Knockturn Alley."
"I thought you built this road and want to charge a toll." "12 Galleons each." "A bit expensive, but acceptable." "Minimum order of 12." "Packing is not a long-term business model."
Melvin persuaded them patiently. About to start working as a professor, he knew patience was valuable: "How about this? I'll buy a copy of your map for 10 Sickles, as a new customer discount, and you can also give me maps of other magical villages in Britannia; try marking them in more detail."
"We only sell maps of Knockturn Alley, and we never haggle."
Then, they were not thieves... Melvin realized his patience was weaker than he thought, and it quickly ran out. He tilted his head slightly to look around the alley, then lifted his gaze. The passage was narrow and long, making navigation difficult with enemies on both sides.
The four rebellious businessmen, one ahead and one behind, also sensed the negotiation failure and tightened their wands, the tension rising. Melvin felt a bit disappointed that they did not even have duel protocol. He extended his hand to open the wooden box, recalling Mr. Borgin's description:
Occasionally, it could have unexpected effects.