I recited the Babylonian incantation out loud a few times as a trial. Akkadian was surprisingly simple—it exhibited certain traits that reminded me of my native tongue from my past life. According to Vespera's approving nod, my pronunciation was quite good, so she signaled for me to finally go for it.
I focused on the need to know. I vividly imagined the weeks of struggling with the codex; my desire for knowledge was crystal clear. Once I felt confident in my "flow," I flicked my yew wand and spoke the incantation: "Idû šumāti kalû!"
Immediately, I knew the spell was successful. I felt it as an active layer of consciousness—a strange sensation, distantly similar to the buzzing of a Muffliato charm, but this time it was more like magical signals of perception. Vespera noticed my puzzled expression and immediately put me to the test:
"Hola, ¿cómo estás?"
I caught a strange resonance in her words. What she uttered, I heard as plain English, though I was certain she had spoken in Spanish. It wasn't just that I understood the meaning (I remembered some basics from the past), my brain was literally absorbing the words. It was an extraordinarily strange, subtly disorienting feeling.
Vespera smirked with amusement. "You'll get used to it. You'll experience it with every new language... until you master it completely."
She was still speaking Spanish, so I just nodded mutely.
"Answer me. You must start speaking," she commanded.
"Sí, entiendo," I replied. I realized instantly that I hadn't answered in English. My subconscious had somehow automatically pulled the correct expressions from my memory, and they resonated magically.
"So, you have learned the spell correctly. We can go to Borgin's," Vespera declared, rising from her armchair. "Keep the spell active; Spanish will come in handy in your life."
I stood up from the table. I had prepared all my "loot" from the Room of Requirement for this moment yesterday, so I only needed to pick up my moke-skin pouch from my room.
"Jobo!" I called out. The house-elf appeared instantly with a deep bow. "Please bring me the magical pouch from my desk. It's already prepared there."
With another bow, he vanished immediately. It didn't even take ten seconds before he was back with the pouch in his hands.
"Thank you," I said, slipping it straight into my robe pocket.
Jobo vanished again. Vespera, who had been waiting for me the whole time, remarked, "You're overdoing the politeness with Jobo, Patrik."
I shook my head in disagreement. "There is no such thing as excessive politeness. You're either polite or you're not. It costs us nothing to say please and thank you."
"He's a house-elf, Patrik," Vespera stated disapprovingly.
"Yes, one who isn't responsible for what his ancestors did thousands of years ago," I replied firmly. "Besides, you're polite to him too... at least sometimes." I saw she wanted to protest, so I added with a smirk: "I've noticed, dear aunt."
She frowned sternly for a moment, then sighed in defeat. "Some purebloods won't like it, Patrik. They'll consider you weak."
"They'll only consider me weak once," I concluded coldly. "And I doubt they'll be able to continue their protests with a missing tongue."
After my remark, Vespera only gave a faint smile and nodded. Our conversation on the subject was definitively closed. We proceeded toward the large fireplace.
My aunt went first. She took a handful of Floo powder, threw it under her feet, and spoke with absolute certainty in her voice: "The Leaky Cauldron!"
She vanished instantly in green flames. I didn't wait and took my own dose of powder to follow her.
When I tumbled out of the fireplace, I immediately dusted off my robes and followed Vespera to the rear exit into the courtyard. It was a hot summer day and Diagon Alley was bustling. Children and teenagers were everywhere—it was clear the adults were at work while we were enjoying the holidays. Being a child again had at least some advantages.
As we passed the bookstore, posters caught my eye. Gilderoy Lockhart. His face and books occupied almost the entire shop windows and promotional space. I just hoped in my heart that my tip to Amelia Bones would bear some fruit. Because if I get even a single question on my Defense Against the Dark Arts test about his favorite color, I will personally drown him in a spoonful of water.
"Are you alright? You're scowling," Vespera remarked as we turned into a darker passage leading away from the main thoroughfare.
"Yes, I was just thinking," I replied briefly. "Nothing important."
She just nodded. Soon we were walking toward Borgin and Burkes. This alley was almost empty. Hooded figures, both short and tall, tried to remain anonymous, which gave the place the right, sinister atmosphere. Only the two of us walked with our faces uncovered. People instinctively moved out of Vespera's way, but they dared to get quite close to me. Being a chubby kid in this environment really doesn't add to one's respect.
Borgin's shop was open as usual, which didn't surprise me. During our first meeting, I had treated him with quite a lack of respect—likely because I found him personally distasteful. He seemed slimy, but there was no denying he was truly wealthy. I was certain that dark books and artifacts weren't just his job, but his true passion.
Today, however, he earned my respect. At the very least, because I realized the priceless value of the Codex Ritualis and he had kept absolute silence about my first victim until now.
When we entered, Borgin was rummaging through something under the counter. He didn't even look up, just shouted curtly, "I'll be with you in a moment!"
Vespera let out a disgusted snort. "Borgin."
As soon as he heard her voice, he looked up in surprise. Seeing who had actually entered the shop, he lightning-fast hid his unfinished work and jumped to his feet. "Mrs. Rosier! What a surprise. Forgive me, I wasn't expecting you."
"Mr. Borgin," I greeted him as we walked to the counter.
"Young Mr. Rosier, good day," he bowed slightly to me. "How can I help you? I have many new pieces that might interest you."
"I have some things I'd like to sell today," I began matter-of-factly.
Interest instantly glittered in Borgin's eyes and he nodded eagerly. "Let's see them."
First, I pulled out the dragon-hide gloves from my pocket. I quickly pulled them onto my hands and then, under the curious gaze of both Borgin and Vespera, I pulled out the cursed dagger. I placed it on the counter.
Borgin leaned over it so low that he almost touched it with his nose. He examined it with undisguised curiosity. After a moment, he pulled out his wand and muttered quietly, "Revelio!"
He hummed approvingly and tucked his wand away. His eyes gleamed with greed. In a sudden fascination, he reached directly for the dagger without gloves. Instinctively, I grabbed his hand and held it firmly.
"It's cursed..." I began warningly, but Borgin irritably shook off my hand and cut me off.
"Of course it's cursed! I've been doing this job longer than your father's age, young man!" he snapped.
"Borgin," Vespera admonished him in a cold tone that radiated a promise of immediate violence.
"My apologies," he corrected himself immediately with that fake smile of his. "I let myself be enchanted by this piece. As you can see, it looks completely ordinary and uninteresting. Just a simple dagger... But as you correctly noted, it is cursed."
Borgin reached for the dagger again. "If you'll allow me," he asked with exaggerated politeness.
I just shrugged and nodded. Hopefully, he really knows what he's doing. He took the dagger into his palm without the slightest problem and turned it in his fingers as if it were just a piece of old cutlery. He hummed approvingly while we watched him with interest.
After a moment, he began explaining. "This piece is exceptionally fascinating. One would think it's just a common little thing for killing, wouldn't they?" For a moment, he smirked to himself with amusement. "The curse on this dagger turns against anyone who tries to use it to harm another. If I were to cut your palm with it right now, the wound would appear on mine instead."
Scenarios of how cruelly such a weapon could be used immediately played through my head.
"It is said to originate from Italy, specifically from Rome. Legend has it that the mad Emperor Nero had it made. When he invited an enemy to his side, he placed the dagger directly in front of him and provoked him to attack. Then he would just laugh wildly as the poor wretch killed himself in the attempt on his life."
Borgin examined it with fascination, but after a moment, he shook his head with a sigh. "The dagger was then lost for centuries. As far as I know, this is the only specimen left. Originally there were two, but during an attempt at reverse analysis and creating a copy, the second one was destroyed. The secret of their making thus remained buried," he paused for a moment and lowered his voice. "As for the price... a collector would pay royally for this gem."
"So? What price are you offering?" I asked, already mentally rubbing my hands with satisfaction. This trade could be a great financial injection for all my future plans.
Borgin laughed with amusement and shook his head. "None, young master. For such valuable pieces, the only solution is an auction. I can organize it for you and sell it for a fifteen percent commission," he suggested.
I immediately shook my head in disagreement. "As you correctly noted, Mr. Borgin, it is an extremely valuable piece. That fifteen percent would be a huge sum... quite excessive," I sighed theatrically. I felt Vespera's amusement, though I didn't look at her. "Two percent," I suggested with a smile.
Borgin grinned. "You insult me, young master. Organizing such an auction, inviting the right people, security, protection... ten percent."
"Mr. Borgin, I respect you, but you know yourself that the sum is still excessive. Three percent."
I was certain that after decades of trading, he didn't necessarily need the money to live. Rather, he was just entertaining himself by seeing how far he could push me.
"Eight percent, young man! There's really a lot of work involved," he tried to put on a convincing expression, but although I couldn't feel his emotions directly, his facial expressions revealed he was enjoying this game.
"Five percent—since it's you. That's my final offer, Mr. Borgin."
"Agreed!" he nodded with a heavy theatrical sigh and carefully placed the dagger under the counter into a special case.
"I will organize everything as soon as possible. Expect the sale to be successfully concluded within two months. I will contact you regarding the progress of the auction and after the sale itself," he informed me. Then he leaned over the counter again with a predatory glint in his eyes. "Do you have anything else interesting?"
"I have a few more trifles," I replied calmly and pulled a magical key from my pocket. I hoped it would be more valuable, but Borgin's lukewarm reaction immediately proved me wrong.
"Ah, a thief's key," Borgin remarked. He took it in his hands, turned it over a few times, and made an emotionless offer: "Three hundred Galleons."
"So little?" I raised an eyebrow.
Borgin just shrugged indifferently. "Even if it's interesting work, there are enough of them circulating the world. Besides, the functionality is only useful for a very specific circle of people. Based on the condition, it's a newer version, so it has practically no value for antique collectors."
"At least five hundred?" I tried to negotiate.
Borgin shook his head in disagreement. "Three hundred and not a single one more. As I said—risky and too specific a merchandise."
"Agreed then," I nodded and accepted the sum. "Just out of curiosity, how exactly does it work?"
The familiar professional glint returned to Borgin's eyes. "One could say it's like a more powerful Alohomora. The engraved runes and enchantments inside the key soak up magic from the surroundings. It's a handy little thing for robbing wizarding homes and shops, of course..." A dangerous spark flickered in his eyes. "Only for the poorly protected ones. Since it doesn't use direct wand magic, it can bypass alarms on weaker security that common spells would trigger instantly."
He paused for a moment and then added with disdain: "For small and weak little thieves, it's an invaluable tool. However, a clever and powerful wizard needs nothing of the sort. That is why the price is so low," he concluded and just shrugged again.
With a nod, I pulled out a brass telescope covered in runes and placed it on the counter. It looked grand, maybe a bit too ornate, so I hoped for a better offer. Borgin's expression, however, told me again that it wouldn't be anything spectacular. He grabbed it in his hands and began to turn and measure it scrutinizingly.
"Six hundred Galleons," he suggested dryly. "An ordinary object with common functionality in a more expensive design and with protective runes. Nothing extra."
Without unnecessary words, I nodded at the offer. Right after that, I pulled out a leaky gold cauldron from my pocket, filled with various jewelry from the Room of Requirement. Interest gleamed in Borgin's eyes for a second, he pulled out his wand and uttered: "Revelio!"
His interest vanished instantly. "This has no value to me. Try some metal charmers, goldsmiths, or go straight to Gringotts," he suggested with a shrug.
In essence, I had expected that. There was nothing magical about it, so I returned the precious metals to my pocket without a word. I didn't plan to sell the books I had found in the castle yet—in the constant rush, I hadn't even had time to look through them properly. That was everything I wanted to offer him for now.
"Should I send the money to your vault, Mr. Rosier?" Borgin asked after a moment while I was thinking.
"No," Vespera replied before I could open my mouth.
"Cash, please, Borgin. I'm building my own capital," I informed him matter-of-factly.
Borgin immediately bent under the counter. I noticed a dark flash of understanding in his eyes, though. After a moment, he pulled out a pouch and placed it noiselessly on the counter.
"Nine hundred Galleons, exactly as agreed," he gestured toward the money. "I will keep you informed regarding the dagger and the auction, Mr. Rosier."
"Can you estimate at least an approximate sum it will sell for?" I asked with curiosity while I was tucking the pouch into my robe pocket.
Borgin shook his head in disagreement. "It depends on the audience and how much a collector will want to show off... But I expect the final price will move from a hundred thousand up to a million," he shrugged with a flat, professional smile.
I nearly choked, but I recovered lightning-fast and let nothing show. "Thank you. Keep me informed then, Mr. Borgin."
Borgin bowed deeply to us again—though his bow was more for Vespera than for me—and we headed out of the shop. We were almost out of Knockturn Alley when Vespera asked me with curiosity in her voice: "Further plans for today, nephew?"
It occurred to me that I should open a personal account at Gringotts Bank, but there was still time for that. I could sell the other jewels without magical value any other time. Since it was still relatively early and I felt fine, I only felt like doing one more thing.
"A duel?" I suggested with a challenging smile. "I'll win today."
Vespera laughed with amusement, grabbed my forearm in a flash, and the world immediately dissolved into the familiar, stifling swirl of Apparition.
***
Author's note:
What do you guys think about our Linguistic spell? I think we can all agree with Patrik here: if I had to answer questions about Lockhart's favorite color, I'd want to drown someone too.
The bargaining scene with Borgin was honestly a blast to write. We'll have to wait and see just how much he manages to fetch for Nero's dagger!
***
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The shadows are shifting, and the story goes much deeper... If you can't wait for the next update, Advanced Chapters are already waiting for you.
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Upcoming Chapters – Already Written(16):
63. Business and Bloodshed
64. Cruelty for Cruelty
65. Adopted by Fate
66. The Scent of Darkness
67. Socks, Sandals, and Sorcery
68. From Peaks to Plates
69. Ashes of Justice
70. The Scent of Despair
71. The Old Bird's Wisdom
72. Toujours Pur
73. The Emperor of Mankind
74. Two Romans Walk into a Bar…
75. Tactical Retreats
76. The Twelve-Year-Old Dark Lord
77. Poking the Snake
78. Of False Heroes and Tethered Minds
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