[Shattered]
A dark blue beam burst forth.
Melvin swung his wand, the tip of his wand against the spell.
The dark blue beam struck the center of the transparent shield of light formed by the Shield Charm, making a dull metallic clang. To seize the initiative, he cast a weaker spell, then flicked it with the tip of his wand. The Shattering Spell returned with even greater speed
. Melvin felt a slight impact on his wrist.
The moleskin-masked Dark wizard hastily dodged, while the other three quickly unleashed spells in their wake.
[Falling unconscious]
[Petrified]
"..."
Melvin effortlessly countered the incoming spells.
Based on the previous conversation and the speed and skill of the four men, he quickly determined that the moleskin-masked one was the leader, likely on par with an Auror from MACUSA. The others were merely average adult wizards, the kind who had failed Defense Against the Dark Arts in school.
This made Melvin sigh: the Dark wizards graduating from Hogwarts were quite diverse.
But facing four Dark wizards in this environment proved daunting.
Trapped in a narrow alleyway, surrounded by enemies from both sides, with no cover to hide their bodies, spells rained down on them, and he relied entirely on Shield Charms to counter them. It felt somewhat like a single wand outmatched against four.
However, a wizard duel wasn't a turn-based game of back-and-forth. Extreme conditions limited both sides equally, and exploiting them effectively was the key to gaining an advantage. And he, a stage designer, knew how to exploit the environment better than anyone else!
Hidden magical energy spread along the brick walls on either side.
"Boom boom..."
Silently, transfiguration enveloped the walls, and the bricks began to writhe. Like vines, the bricks grew rapidly, sealing off the alleyway's ceiling in an instant.
As the last ray of dim light extinguished, the Dark wizard leader, wearing a moleskin mask, caught sight of Melvin's movements. He pulled the remains of a withered hand from a box, its fingers half-closed, a candle cradled in its withered palm.
Melvin blew a breath, and a flame suddenly erupted, a pale light flashing and disappearing.
Shadows engulfed the alleyway, plunging everyone into darkness.
The Dark wizards quickly grasped Melvin's strategy, but they didn't know how to respond or stop him.
The alleyway was only a few feet wide and almost straight, with no obstruction or cover, yet still room for evasion. They had been able to surround Melvin with clear vision earlier, but now, if they cast spells rashly, they would likely be among themselves.
A black veil enveloped the alleyway, and also the hearts of the four Dark wizards. The atmosphere grew increasingly tense, and they could even hear their companions breathing... or perhaps even their enemies'.
The leader of the Dark wizards felt their throat tighten.
[Lumos]
A ray of silver light emanated. Panicked, one Dark wizard attempted to cast an Illumination spell to see clearly, but the silver light released from his wand meant he couldn't return to defend himself in time. Melvin waited for such an opportunity. Almost at the moment the silver light ignited, a silent Repulse spell struck.
"Bang."
The spell hit the chest, sending the Dark wizard casting the Illumination Charm flying and crashing into the brick wall behind him with a dull thud.
The remaining three Dark wizards gasped. Because the spell was cast silently, they heard nothing and couldn't tell what it was. They only saw a flash of green light, and then one of their companions fell silent.
Judging by the color of the spell, it could have been a Repulse Charm or an Unforgivable Curse.
"..."
The leader of the Dark wizards took a deep breath, raised his wand, and cast the Shield Charm. He stared warily at the darkness ahead and spoke with a weak voice, "Sir, we are willing to pay the price for our ignorance and offense, as long as we can ask for your forgiveness."
"Bang."
Another dull thud, and the second companion not far away fell silent.
The leader of the Dark wizards swallowed, his throat tightening like a needle. He tried to speak, but only managed a few hesitant words.
"First... sir, we... you..."
"Click, click, click..."
Soft footsteps echoed in the pitch-black alley, seemingly coming from both in front and behind, as if death were slowly approaching.
"Huff... huff..."
The breathing of his companion beside him was clear, yet steady.
A fine bead of sweat formed on the dark wizard leader's forehead. At that moment, a sudden flash of inspiration struck him:
"Sir! Sir! We can provide maps of all the wizarding villages in Britain, as well as those in Ireland, Belgium, Denmark... and more! There's a wizarding island in Norway, we can find it too!"
"Oh?"
the gentleman's voice echoed right beside him. A pale candlelight appeared out of nowhere, illuminating Melvin's curious expression. "What's the price this time?"
The candlelight also illuminated the alley. In the dim corner of his vision, his companion lay unconscious on the ground, his life or death unknown.
The companion he had thought he had always been by his side had long since been replaced by an enemy roaming the darkness.
The pupils of the dark wizard leader suddenly contracted, and he was so frightened that his heart almost stopped. He stood beside Melvin, looked down at his companion, and moved his lips, wanting to say something, but no sound came out.
Melvin was quite calm. He picked up the wooden box on the ground and put the Hand of Glory back: "Tell me, how much is your map?"
The dark wizard leader opened his mouth and gritted his teeth: "As long as you are willing to let me take them away, sir, the map will be given to you for free."
"I am not in the human trafficking business of reselling wizards..."
Melvin shook his head: "How about this, it's still 12 Galleons, but I need you to mark the area and population size of these wizard settlements. It would be even better if you could also count the proportion of pure-blood and half-blood, housing prices and per capita income."
"Huh?"
The dark wizard was a little confused.
"I can prepay the goods. Just have an owl deliver the map to the Savoy..."
Melvin approached, wand in hand, the tip of his wand resting on his arm. "But to ensure a smooth transaction, we need a contract."
A few minutes later, dim light once again streamed into the alleyway.
The moleskin-clad leader stood at the entrance, wallet in hand. At his feet lay his three companions, sound asleep. Each had their left sleeve pulled up, a blue seal branded on their arm—a single stroke of the Ouroboros. The figure who
had left the seal had already left the alley.
Melvin, reminiscing about his day, walked without stopping.
Despite some setbacks, the deal was successfully closed. Business, after all, is all about bargaining.
That seal wasn't the Dark Mark; it contained a small curse, but it only looked intimidating.
Walking out of the alley, I looked back.
Occasionally, a dark shadow would dart around a dark corner, making a rustling sound. Sometimes it was an earless black cat or neko, sometimes a house-elf carrying a wooden crate. The apothecary closest to the exit of Knockturn Alley had a display of glass jars lined in the window, their eyeballs bobbing in purple potion.
The entire street felt like a damp, abandoned intestine of Diagon Alley, huddled in the cracks of London's brick walls.
...
Half an hour later, at the Leaky Cauldron.
It was the busiest hour of the day. Wizards and witches, beer mugs in hand, crowded the bar, eagerly discussing the day's events. The noise was so deafening that it hurt my ears.
Old Tom sat quietly in a corner, clutching the Daily Prophet, pretending to read intently.
Melvin ordered a butterbeer and looked at him in such a state, he couldn't help but feel curious: "Old Tom, why are you hiding here instead of greeting customers in the front?"
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"I'm in deep sorrow."
"..."
Melvin was silent for a while. It had been almost two weeks since he came here, and he still couldn't get used to the way British wizards chatted.
"Why are you sad?"
"The Daily Prophet."
"What? The newspaper is closing down?"
"That's not the case..." Old Tom shook his head while holding the newspaper. "The Daily Prophet has a history as long as the Leaky Cauldron. As long as there are wizards in this land, the newspaper will not go bankrupt or cease publication."
"What's that? Which of your classmates or old friends has the obituary on it?"
"No, they don't have to run a bar, so they should live longer than me."
"It's not the obituary of someone your age. Is it the obituary of an elder in the family? A professor during your student days? Or the girl next door you have a crush on?" Melvin was more interested in the last item.
"Uh..."
Old Tom, seeing his speculation spiraling further and further out of control, said quickly, "I'm worried because the newspaper clearly has a story about me, but doesn't mention my name."
Melvin, instantly intrigued, took the paper and looked it over. The headline that caught his eye was
"Gringotts Break-in Report."
"The investigation into this afternoon's break-in at Gringotts continues. It's generally believed to be the work of an unknown, dark wizard or witch. The goblins at Gringotts reiterated today that nothing was stolen. The underground vault searched by the intruders had actually been emptied earlier this morning. A Gringotts goblin spokesperson stated this afternoon: 'We have no information on what's in the vault, and please don't interfere.'"
Melvin stared at the paper, then at Old Tom. He paused for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face.
Old Tom sensed something was amiss: "Hey, that's not what I'm talking about! It's the news on page two!"
Melvin turned the page.
"The Savior Appears in the Wizarding World!" Harry Potter shows up in Diagon Alley to buy school supplies"
"London News: This morning, the savior Harry Potter, accompanied by Hogwarts gamekeeper Rubeus Hagrid, stepped into Diagon Alley for the first time to buy school supplies. The "Boy-Who-Lived" who defeated You-Know-Who since infancy officially joined the magical society on his 11th birthday. At 10:15 a.m., a commotion broke out in the Leaky Cauldron..."
Old Tom sighed and muttered with a melancholy expression: "Since we mentioned the Leaky Cauldron, why don't you mention that I was the first to recognize the lightning scar on his head and the first to shake his hand and congratulate him?"
"Then should we also mention Kodoli, who shook hands second, and Digg, who shook hands third?"
"How do you know?" Old Tom looked puzzled, "I remember you were not in the bar at the time?"
"The whole bar was talking about it, and my ears were callused from listening to it."
"That's Harry Potter, the boy who defeated You-Know-Who. Who can resist being overwhelmed with emotion when hearing his name and seeing his face again?"
"That's true. The tavern business is much better than usual."
"It's mainly because the school term is about to start."
"Yeah, it's almost time for school."
Melvin took a sip of his beer, the salty-sweet taste.
A certain Muggle Studies professor was also about to start.
For the next month, the front pages of the newspapers continued to follow the Gringotts robbery, but there was no conclusion.
The supplements covered the legendary story of Harry Potter. Rita Skeeter, who had somehow dug up information about the Potters, consulted several experts in the Dark Arts, and tried to reconstruct the truth of what happened that night.
The plot was full of twists and turns, even suspecting that the Potters had a hidden emotional entanglement with a mysterious person.
Old Tom, sitting at the bar, picked up the newspaper and saw that the article dared to tell the story of a man who dared not mention his name directly. He felt a strange admiration for reporter Skeeter; his courage was admirable.
Melvin lived in Charing Cross Road, wandering Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, looking for goods that might be useful and gathering interesting information.
Drinkers rarely mentioned Professor Lewynter, who had appeared in the newspapers, but students and parents carrying back-to-school lists kept repeating his name, and Melvin could feel the magic slowly growing.
Although he still hadn't figured out the mechanism, it didn't stop him from benefiting from it.
...
Late August, mid-morning.
In a room on the second floor of the Savoy Hotel.
"4 ounces for small-format photos..."
Melvin stared at the developer and photos on the table, puzzled.
How small is small?
Do different qualities of developer require the same amount?
"Never mind, a little more won't go amiss."
Melvin gave up the hesitation, unscrewed the cork, poured the clear developer into the tray, and then dipped the photos he had received into the solution. All that was left was patient waiting.
He set the tray aside to rest before picking up the map material nearby and flipping through it page by page.
"West Overton in Wiltshire;
"Dinworth in Cornwall;
"Upper Flagley in Yorkshire;
"..."
There are so many wizarding communities in the UK.
These are all small places, not counting major wizarding villages such as Hogsmeade and Godric's.
Melvin put down his sloppy hand-drawn map and flipped through the accompanying data.
The small pile of parchment was all hand-copied. The handwriting was neat and there were no ink blobs, but there was no segmentation at all, let alone organizing it into statistical charts. It seemed a bit troublesome to extract numbers from long paragraphs of words.
Although the four dark wizards had limited abilities, their attitude was still upright.
It didn't take Melvin too much time to organize the data in the information into a table and display it in the notebook next to him.
He looked at the data table, tapped the paper lightly with his fingers, and muttered softly: "Who said that there are only 3,000 wizards in the UK? Do they understand the magical world? "
Not only are there more wizarding settlements than expected, but the population is also larger than expected. These small places harbor hundreds, even thousands, of wizards. If you include their family members and relatives, the number is even greater.
It's truly a long-established wizarding nation."
The photograph, immersed in developing solution, had slightly faded in color, its edges blurred, and the rough edges trembled briefly before the figures on it began to move.
The pedestrians on the street were dressed in eccentric styles: medieval robes, steampunk blouses, Victorian dresses. Residents from different eras walked the same street. The shops on both sides of the road also seemed to be from different eras, some with new signs, some with old signs.
"Honeydukes Candy Shop"
"Mrs. Puddifoot's Tea Shop"
"..."
i really need your support for my semester fee...
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(End of this chapter)