Charing Cross Road is located in the heart of London, between Oxford Street and Trafalgar Square. Dozens of bookstores dot the street, the busiest of which is Foyles' flagship bookstore, located diagonally across from 84 Charing Cross Road.
Melvin glanced up at the vibrant red sign, then glanced away and pushed the door open.
Though it might be called a bookstore, it was more like a shopping mall, spanning five floors and over 30,000 square feet. They reportedly carry over 200,000 titles, and all the shelves could be connected to stretch the length of the street.
There was a dedicated section dedicated to Shakespeare's works, while Beethoven's music took up two walls, alongside vinyl records and various gift items.
On the second floor was a café, the air thick with a delicate aroma.
Sunlight streamed in through the glass walls, complementing the warm carpet and carefully arranged decorations, creating a warm atmosphere. The thick carpeting seemed to prevent footsteps from disturbing readers, such as the hunchbacked witch by the window.
The nearly two-hundred-year-old witch was utterly aged, her back hunched, her face wrinkled like a spiderweb, her hair meticulously combed, her head bent as she read.
Learning becomes a struggle with age.
Faced with a completely new body of knowledge, years of accumulated experience are not only useless but sometimes even become a daunting obstacle.
She glanced over unfamiliar words and phrases, having to mentally reread them several times before grasping their meaning. Understanding wasn't enough; she had to abandon her wizarding mindset and consider them from a Muggle perspective to gain new knowledge.
Land masses separated by vast oceans could merge, the ground beneath her feet constantly shifting...
The lightning that streaked across the sky was completely different from the lightning used by Muggles...
The old witch had to completely abandon the magic she had learned in the first half of her life to glimpse a glimpse of scientific knowledge. But even this tiny glimpse brought the nearly two-hundred-year-old witch a childlike joy, and occasionally, when she caught a glimpse of something fascinating, her cloudy eyes lit up.
Melvin approached, slightly increasing his footsteps. His hard-soled leather shoes made a slight but distinct sound, and a transparent spell spread.
"Da."
Griselda Marchbank, who was absorbed in her reading, raised her head, her fine wrinkles smoothed out, and she smiled gently. "Professor Lewynter."
Melvin glanced at the title of the book; it was the textbook he had recently selected, the DK Children's Encyclopedia.
"Sorry, breakfast will be delayed ten minutes while we wait for the freshly baked bread."
Melvin sat down opposite him, his voice louder than usual, even for the hard-of-hearing old wizard to hear, but the sound lingered only a few feet away, unable to spread. "Also, you can call me by my name, ma'am."
"You really do resemble Dumbledore in his youth,"
Ms. Marchbank, noticing the surrounding magical barrier, chuckled softly, but didn't specify the specific similarities.
She closed the book casually: "The book you recommended is very good. People in the Examination Authority are reading it. I have to say that this book is very comprehensive, just like its name - Encyclopedia. It must be admitted that the knowledge that these Muggle children read is something that most adult wizards will never know in their lifetime. This knowledge not only helps us to correctly understand Muggles, but also helps us to correctly understand the world."
"This is exactly what I hope for."
Melvin said slowly: "Natural science is the magic wand of Muggles. In my opinion, after science dispelled ignorance, their success in the past two hundred years of development has surpassed that of the past few thousand years. Unprecedented changes are approaching. Wizards can no longer bury their heads in their own lives as in the past. They must correctly understand the relationship between the magical community and the world and explore completely new paths."
"Unfortunately, science cannot dispel the ignorance and stubbornness of wizards." Marchbanks sighed, stroking the cover of the book with his skinny fingers. "When the Ministry of Magic learned that you were going to use Muggle books as teaching materials, it started to make trouble again. Those pure-bloods were always restless and clamored to convene the Wizengamot to re-decide."
"New things are always accompanied by controversy."
"We old guys don't have the energy to mess with them."
Marchbanks shook his head, his right hand trembling as he slipped it into his shirt pocket, pulling out a letter of appointment that far exceeded the size of his pocket. "Tofty—the old guy who sat next to me the other day, he's the Deputy Director of the Administration—has discussed it with me and decided to hire you as a special advisor to the Examinations Authority, focusing on the reform of Muggle Studies."
"..."
Melvin paused. "How's the salary?"
Marchbanks paused, looking up at him. His slightly hoarse voice echoed within inches of him. "No salary, only obligations. You'll need to record your teaching content, write detailed lesson plans, and record student feedback. However, the knowledge points you record will become the test points for Muggle Studies. For decades, even centuries to come, your lesson plans will serve as the curriculum... In short, you'll set the standards for this subject."
"It's a thankless job."
"That's right."
"But I want to give it a try."
The job wasn't as bad as Marchbanks had made it out to be. No salary didn't mean no reward.
And for Melvin, the rewards were quite generous.
Since its establishment in the 15th century, the Wizarding Examinations Authority has grown over the years into a professional organization with vast resources.
The Authority comprises multiple departments responsible for all aspects of wizarding exams, including qualification review, independent question setting, and examination supervision... An institution capable of setting standards and judging other wizards has amassed ever-increasing influence over the past five hundred years.
This influence was exactly what Melvin needed.
For the next several hours, the two discussed detailed teaching plans, and only when the sun set did Melvin bid farewell.
...
The bookstore was open in the evenings.
Mrs. Marchbank remained, sitting by the window in the café, her encyclopedia open before her, her gentle expression gazing out at the street below, as if admiring the scenery.
According to Authority regulations, wizards appointed as Special Advisors are retired professors. The last advisor to break the age record was fifty when they were appointed.
This exceptional appointment was prompted by Dumbledore's subtle instigation, as well as a desire for change among these old men.
Typically, Special Advisors do not have the power to set teaching standards. Expert panels are typically formed, with constant additions, deletions, and revisions, often requiring decades of negotiation before a conclusion is reached. The revision of the Muggle Studies curriculum began ten years ago, more or less influenced by the Wizarding War and You-Know-Who.
The hundreds of thousands of words compiled by these old scholars were all swept into the trash compared to this encyclopedia. The
old witch's eyes reflected the passing traffic, the soft streetlights on both sides of the road, and the figure walking briskly on the sidewalk.
She was truly young.
...
Communicating with Ms. Marchbanks, answering questions from the Wizarding World Administration, adjusting to London life, adjusting to the local accent and the strange wizarding slang, investigating the future of art... It was already the end of July when I returned to Diagon Alley.
The streets were crowded with students and parents doing their back-to-school shopping.
Melvin stood outside the stationery store, needing to buy some developing potion.
This potion could animate portraits in photos, turning pictures into videos—images without sound. The length and frame rate varied depending on the potion's quality. Poor quality would produce a mosaic of two or three seconds, while good quality would only produce half a minute of standard definition.
The ingredients required to prepare the potion weren't scarce, and the steps weren't complicated, but it was time-consuming and labor-intensive, making it difficult to sell at a high price.
Skilled potions masters wouldn't waste their time on such things, so the developing potions on the market were generally of inferior quality. Melvin had no choice but to try his luck.
"Welcome to the Ink Transmutation Stationery Shop. What can I do for you, sir?"
"Do you have developing potions?"
"Of course sir!"
The clerk's eyes lit up at the mention of developing potions. Who among ordinary wizards would bother with photography? He quickly pulled out several bottles of stock. "This one takes two seconds, only 19 knuts per pint. This one takes four seconds, only 1 Sickle and 17 knuts per pint. This one takes 10 seconds, only 3 Sickles and 7 knuts per pint!"
"..."
The prices were even in whole and small.
Melvin's eye twitched.
Such a distorted exchange rate must have been drawn up by the Gringotts goblins when they were drunk.
"Sir, which one do you need?"
Melvin rubbed his brow. "Do you have a longer developing time?"
"I need even longer," the clerk said with surprise. "Sir, you're familiar with the properties of developing potions. I must explain upfront that the longer the developing time, the more expensive it is. And every additional second doubles the price."
"Let me see it first,"
Melvin said with a bit of hesitation. He did a rough calculation. A 90-minute movie, even if he was meticulous and didn't need any editing, according to the clerk's method...
by the time he figured out how many Diagon Alleys three Sickles and seven Knuts multiplied by two to the power of 5400 would buy, the clerk had already pulled out the store's highest-quality developing potion.
"Handmade by the potion master Damocles Belby, it takes a whopping 23 seconds to develop. 1600 Galleons." The clerk's smile was particularly cordial.
"..."
Melvin was touched.
He even rounded off the difference.
After a few seconds of silence, Melvin exchanged glances with the clerk, ultimately buying a few cheap pints. As for the bottle of potion master Belby's work, it was the shop's most prized possession, and Melvin felt it should remain.
"I'd like to make a two-hour development of photographs. Any suggestions?"
The clerk, knowing the potion would be a tough sell, remained undeterred. "Sir, you're talking about Muggle videos, right?"
"You know?"
"I'm a half-blood wizard, and my mother is a Muggle."
The clerk quickly put the potion away and turned with a smile. "I suggest you use a Muggle camera. It's well-equipped, inexpensive, and clearer."
Melvin shook his head. "Cameras and projections require electricity..."
Generating, transmitting, and consuming electricity—that's an entire industrial system.
By the time the wizarding world has electricity, wizards and Muggles alike should have entered a new era, which will likely take at least a decade.
Seeing his frown, the clerk glanced around and said in a low voice, "If you really need it, you can go to Borgin and Burke's next door in Knockturn Alley."
"Dark wizards have electricity in Knockturn Alley?" Melvin was shocked.
"Even if the Ministry of Magic agrees, those pure-bloods won't agree," the clerk said with a speechless expression. "I mean, there might be modified cameras next door."
"..."
Melvin left, lost in thought.
Magical modification of Muggle objects teeters on the edge of the Statute of Secrecy.
It falls under the jurisdiction of the Misuse of Magic Office within the Department of Law Enforcement. Under that office lies the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, once a liberal-minded department that has modified a number of technological artifacts, including cars, elevators, and landline phones...
But since Umbridge took over, it has become closed-minded and conservative, cracking down on related practices.
Melvin left the Transforming Ink Stationery Shop and entered a nearby alleyway, arriving on the street in a few minutes.
Before the Statute of Secrecy, wizarding shops were located within the Muggle market. Wizards conducted magical business while Muggles conducted ordinary business. Back then, Diagon Alley wasn't even called Diagon Alley.
London, Britain's most prosperous city, boasts this street nestled in the heart of the city, attracting wizards from across the nation. Solitary wizards would occasionally come here to purchase magical materials, while concentrated wizarding villages would gather for their daily necessities. Potions makers who brewed rare potions to sell found it difficult to find buyers in those days of limited information, so selling to a potion shop here was their best option.
Sometimes, Muggle merchants would also sell grain, oil, and salt in exchange for exquisitely crafted handicrafts. To the less skilled Muggles, every item here was a precious work of art.
After all, it was made through Transfiguration.
Occasionally, legendary treasures could be found, such as a sickle that could automatically harvest wheat or a potion that could cure all diseases...
With convenient transportation, well-informed information, and a stable supply of goods, Muggle merchants traded tax-free here, and wizards could trade Transfiguration artifacts for gold and gems. As word spread among caravans and wizards, the place's fame grew.
At the time, the British royal family still employed wizards as court attendants, and the Ministry of Magic and the royal family had a tacit understanding. With this tacit agreement, a renowned wizarding market emerged in central London.
Many pure-blood families, including the Malfoys, amassed incredible wealth during this period, acquiring land and building their fortunes. That was
until the Statute of Secrecy was enacted.
In just three hundred years, everything changed. Muggle and wizard shops were completely separated, and wizards who once traded with Muggles became pure-blood families who despised them. The bustling city disbanded, splitting into two lanes.
Diagon Alley is a spacious and open road that is supervised by the Ministry of Magic. Aurors patrol regularly to ensure the personal and property safety of customers and merchants. All goods are legal and compliant, and there are no Muggle-related items.
Knockturn Alley was also legal and compliant in the beginning, but the roads here are rugged, alleys are intertwined with alleys, corners are connected to corners, the environment is complex and the vision is narrow. Not to mention the safety of merchants and customers, even Aurors cannot guarantee their own safety when they are alone. Gradually, the Ministry of Magic ignored this place.
Without strict rules and restrictions, wild growth will always give rise to some strange things.
Borgin and Burke's is such a place. It is obviously a place to buy and sell dark magic items, but because of its own reputation, it has received praise from a group of dark wizards and gradually gained a reputation, becoming a standing sign in Knockturn Alley.
(End of this chapter)