"We're here."
Sebastian waved his wand, and the wizards floating behind him slowly descended and were neatly arranged near the entrance of the antique shop.
To prevent any misguided heroes from suddenly jumping out to defend them and causing unnecessary trouble, Sebastian had kept his magic power boiling. Only now, after they had arrived safely, did he allow his magic to gradually settle down.
He turned to Harry and said, "This shop contains some very dangerous Dark Arts items. Once we go in, just watch. Don't touch anything."
Harry nodded obediently and followed Sebastian into the shop.
Unlike the bright and cheerful stores of Diagon Alley, this narrow antique shop was dimly lit, the air thick with the musty scent of decay and time. Every step inside made Harry more uneasy. The shelves lining the walls were packed with an assortment of strange and ominous artifacts—most of which Harry couldn't even begin to name.
He was certain of one thing—nothing here would ever appear on a Hogwarts supply list.
Take a look at what was for sale:
On one shelf, a dried-up, blackened hand lay curled like a shriveled branch, its twisted fingers seemingly frozen mid-scream, telling a silent tale of agony.
Inside a display case sat a lifeless glass eyeball, eerily realistic, its cold stare seeming to follow Harry around the room.
A beautiful but sinister necklace rested on a velvet cushion, with a tag that read in bold letters: "EXTREMELY DEADLY." There was no doubt that it was cursed, radiating a faint, malevolent aura. Harry couldn't imagine any wizard foolish enough to wear something like that—unless, perhaps, it wasn't meant for themselves?
There were also grotesque masks hanging on the walls, each one more horrifying than the last. The counter was cluttered with human bones—some full skeletons, others just dismembered parts. From the ceiling hung bizarre tools with rusty, serrated blades. They looked like they belonged more in a medieval torture chamber than a shop.
Each item whispered its own dark secret, its own gruesome history.
Harry swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry.
If I weren't following Sebastian, I'd never have stepped foot in here.
But to think Sebastian came here looking for a birthday gift—for himself?
Harry had to resist the urge to shout at him: You know what? Let's just skip your birthday this year! No need for gifts, especially not from a place like this!
Then there was the shopkeeper.
Standing behind the counter was a pale man with sharp eyes and an unsettling, fake smile. He looked as though he'd seen a thousand curses and smiled through every one of them.
Harry instinctively disliked him, but what he didn't know was that this "cold and dangerous" expression was actually the result of pure fear.
The man—Mr. Bock, the shopkeeper—had sensed something terrifying the moment Sebastian approached Knockturn Alley.
Earlier, when Sebastian had let his magic flare, Bock had immediately realized that a powerful wizard had arrived nearby. Though he muttered to himself briefly, he chose to ignore it. In Knockturn Alley, the number one rule was simple: mind your own business.
But that dangerous magical presence didn't fade—it grew stronger and came closer… until it stopped right outside his door.
Peering through the dusty shop window, Bock spotted two figures standing there, with several wizards floating behind them.
His face turned green instantly.
Who is this monster? And why are they carrying unconscious wizards like handbags? What in Merlin's name are they planning? Human experimentation? Sacrifice?
Even for Knockturn Alley, this was extreme.
Luckily, he didn't recognize them, which meant they probably weren't here for revenge.
Please, Merlin, let them be passing by. Let them keep walking.
But Merlin wasn't listening today.
Bock watched in horror as the pair spoke briefly, then pushed open the door and stepped inside.
Panic gripped him, but he forced a smile onto his face—the kind of smile a man makes while staring down a dragon.
"Welcome, dear sirs, to Borgin and Burkes. How may I help you?" he asked, bowing deeply and stepping out from behind the counter.
Sebastian smiled warmly, though there was a glint in his eyes that made Bock's blood run cold.
"Mr. Bock, my name is Jack. This is my companion," he said politely. "We're travelers, collectors of rare artifacts from around the world. I've heard your shop houses some... exquisite pieces. We thought we'd stop by. I hope you don't mind?"
Bock nearly melted with relief. Just customers. Terrifying, yes, but customers.
"Of course! Of course, you are most welcome!" Bock said hurriedly. "It would be my pleasure to show you around personally."
He snapped into professional mode with surprising speed, guiding them through the store with well-rehearsed enthusiasm. He detailed the origins of various items, careful never to say anything that might offend.
Eventually, Sebastian stopped in front of the withered hand on the shelf and gestured.
"Mr. Bock, could you bring that item over for me to inspect?"
"Ah! The Hand of Glory," Bock said, scurrying over to fetch it. He gave it a quick wipe with his sleeve and handed it to Sebastian as reverently as if it were a crown jewel.
"This item is especially prized by thieves and—uh—adventurers. When a candle is placed in its fingers and lit, only the person holding it can see the light. An excellent tool for those who prefer to work... under the cover of darkness."
Sebastian's eyes narrowed, and his tone turned icy.
"Are you suggesting my companion and I are thieves?"
"No! No, of course not!" Bock stammered, his voice rising slightly. "What I meant was that you clearly possess... exceptional vision. You see value where others don't."
Sebastian's smile returned, but Harry recognized the dangerous tone behind it.
"Relax, Mr. Bock," Sebastian said. "I'm a very kind man. I won't take offense over a simple misunderstanding."
Harry nearly choked on air. Kind? That's the last word I'd use.
Sebastian continued, "I'll take this item. Also, I'm interested in the Vanishing Cabinet—the one that's not paired. What's your price?"
Bock hesitated. He needed to tread carefully.
"Ah… 500 Galleons for the Hand of Glory, 300 for the Vanishing Cabinet. So 800 Galleons in total."
The moment he finished speaking, Sebastian's expression darkened again.
Realizing he had slipped into "scam-the-tourist" mode, Bock broke out in a cold sweat.
He had just tried to sell rare Dark items at inflated prices to someone who had five unconscious wizards floating outside his shop. Not smart.
"Ahem—of course, that's the standard price for… average customers," Bock corrected hastily. "But you two are clearly not ordinary wizards. For someone as powerful and discerning as you, I insist on offering a discount."
He bowed again, nearly falling over in his haste.
"Let's say... 50% off. And because I feel we've formed a good rapport, I'll give you both items for just 250 Galleons."
Now that was a bargain.
The Vanishing Cabinet alone had once sold for thousands of Galleons. Though this was only one-half of a set, it still held enormous value—especially because the matching cabinet was located in Hogwarts.
With the Hand of Glory thrown in, it was honestly a steal.
And yet, Sebastian frowned.
Something about the number 250 seemed… suspicious.
Was this man mocking him?
He stared hard at Bock, who began sweating even more under the scrutiny.
This was already a painfully low price—any less, and Bock might as well give the items away. He considered lowering it by another ten Galleons just to avoid any misunderstanding.
But before he could speak, Sebastian casually waved a hand.
"Two hundred forty-nine Galleons," he said coolly. "If you agree, wrap them up."
Silence filled the room.
Then, with a forced smile stretching across his face, Bock nodded and replied, "Of course, Mr. Jack. Right away."
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