Evelyn's nose wrinkled almost imperceptibly, her gaze, like dust-laden silk, carelessly sweeping over the mess on the floor—
A few leftover breadcrumbs, Lina's sleeve smudged with mud, and Finn, clutching a worn-out boot.
Her voice was like honey steeped in ice, sweet but chilling: "Mr. Borgin, your… guests here are becoming increasingly interesting."
Morin's smile remained unchanged, like a delicate wax mask, as he frantically shot a glance towards Finn and his sister, lowering his voice just enough for Evelyn to hear:
"Oh dear, these two are… children from distant relatives, sent to London for me to look after for a few days. They've had a tiring journey and haven't had a chance to tidy themselves up yet. Please excuse their appearance!"
As he spoke, he lightly tapped his wand, and the breadcrumbs at Finn's feet vanished. Even the faint sweet scent of raspberry jam in the air was replaced by a subtle mix of disinfectant and perfume.
"Relatives?" Evelyn lifted her eyelids, her grey eyes like two deep pools, resting on the grass clippings in Lina's hair. A half-smile played on her lips,
"Mr. Borgin's relatives are indeed as… unique as your shop."
Finn's fingernails almost dug into his palms. His Werewolf hearing clearly picked up the disdain in her tone.
Lina, frightened by the unfamiliar aura, shrank closer into her brother's embrace, her hand clutching the family crest trembling again.
Morin, however, seemed to miss the underlying meaning. Instead, he clapped his hands as if suddenly remembering something:
"Oh, my mind! Miss Black certainly didn't come here today to listen to my family chatter!
I've got some new arrivals here, I guarantee they'll be even more to your liking than that bottle of Supersensory Potion from last time!"
He turned and pulled out an onyx-inlaid brass tray from under the counter. On it lay several palm-sized Black feathers, silver threads wrapped around their quills, their tips gleaming with phosphorescence.
"Look at this—the 'Tongue-Tying Raven Feather'!"
Morin picked one up and lightly flicked it towards the morning light. Intricate runes immediately appeared along the feather's edge.
"It's much more powerful than a Silencing Charm!
Not only can it shut someone up, but it can also prevent them from saying anything disrespectful to you for three days!
Even if they curse you a hundred times in their heart, when it comes out, it'll only be 'Miss Evelyn is so elegant' or 'Miss Evelyn is right'!"
Evelyn's eyebrows finally raised slightly, her attention shifting to Morin's hand.
She reached out and took the feather, her fingertips brushing the cool quill: "Oh? That magical?"
"Naturally!" Morin leaned in closer, lowering his voice even further, as if sharing a monumental secret,
"These feathers are from the 'Vengeful Ravens' in the Romanian forest. Those birds are naturally able to devour malicious words! Plus a little magic trick of my own—
Enough to make every disrespectful little beast at Hogwarts suffer!"
His words were half-truths.
The raven feathers, as the main ingredient, did indeed come from the Romanian forest, but the ones in his hand were merely substandard items he had acquired from a potion peddler last year.
Not only were the most magically potent tail feathers not used, but they were also mixed with some ordinary poultry feathers.
Therefore, their efficacy was far from as strong as he boasted; at most, they would make people speak nonsense.
But this did not stop him from talking them up extravagantly:
"Just imagine, those thoughtless half-bloods at Hogwarts, and those Mudbloods, if they dare to gossip about you behind your back again…"
"Mr. Borgin."
Evelyn suddenly interrupted him, her voice several degrees colder,
"I don't need to use such things to deal with those… boring people."
She paused, twirling the feather between her fingertips.
"It's just that some idiotic upper-years lately always think they know more than someone from the House of Black."
"Understood! Understood!"
Morin immediately changed his tune, his smile becoming even more fawning.
"I misspoke! But for someone of your noble status, you certainly need methods befitting your standing. This raven feather is just perfect—
It shows your status and makes the other person look like a fool. How wonderful!"
As he spoke, he subtly observed Evelyn's expression. Seeing her gaze wander and a slight uncontrollable smirk on her lips, he quickly struck while the iron was hot, quoting a price:
"Not much, just twenty Galleons.
You know, Vengeful Ravens have been classified as dangerous animals by the Ministry of Magic this year. I got these feathers at the risk of being investigated by the Ministry of Magic…"
Evelyn didn't haggle. She simply counted out twenty shiny Galleons from her cloak's velvet pocket and tossed them onto the counter, where they clinked crisply.
"I'll take this one."
"Alrighty!"
Morin beamed, carefully wrapping the raven feather in gilded silk and adding a small, Black-jeweled casket as a bonus.
"A storage box for you! It's enchanted with over a dozen protective spells, perfect for both hitting people and storing things!"
Evelyn took the box and turned to leave, the hem of her cloak sweeping over the carpet on the floor, not even sparing a glance for Finn and his sister in the corner.
As Morin tucked the raven feather into the Black velvet-lined box, his peripheral vision caught Finn staring at a newly opened box of magic dust on the counter.
That stuff was made from powdered mountain fairy wings mixed with moonpetal juice, and when applied to objects, it shimmered with fine silver light.
The original Mr. Borgin was very fond of using this dust to decorate his shoddy products.
Morin's mind quickly processed a thought. He tapped the counter with his wand handle, his chin gesturing towards the box, his voice flat:
"Miss Lina, could you please bring over that box of 'Phantom Sea Stars'?"
Finn was startled. Lina, who was leaning behind her brother, peeked out.
The little girl was about twelve or thirteen, with skin as white as freshly fallen snow and long, thick eyelashes that, when lowered, looked like two tiny fans. Were it not for the slight fuzz on her earlobes, thicker than that of ordinary children, she would have looked just like any regular young Witch.
She was gently nudged by her brother before she timidly tiptoed to reach the box, then ran over, clutching it, her small leather shoes making soft sounds on the dusty carpet.
Evelyn, who was about to turn and leave, heard the movement and looked back, her gaze falling on the box in Lina's arms.
The box was made of mother-of-pearl with some decorative magic applied. The morning light streamed through the window crack, refracting rainbows on its surface, which was certainly more pleasing to the eye than the moldy, peeling walls of this rundown shop.
"Miss Black, look,"
Morin quickly took the box from Lina's arms, opening it with a swift motion like he was flipping through an account book. He scooped up a bit of the paste with a silver spoon, his enthusiastic tone directed entirely at Evelyn, completely ignoring the siblings beside him.
"This is our latest beauty product, 'Phantom Sea Stars.' Would you like to try it?"
He didn't hand it over, only tilted his head towards Lina, his words as brief as a command:
"Show this young lady the effect."
Lina, startled, shrank behind Finn, her small hand clutching her brother's sleeve tightly.
Morin pursed his lips, then bent down and whispered something in her ear before leading her half a step forward.
Lina hesitantly raised her hand, dabbed a bit of the paste, and lightly brushed it onto her lower eyelashes.
Her already long eyelashes were immediately veiled in a faint silvery glow, as if sprinkled with stardust.
She looked up with her grey-blue eyes, the silver shimmer making her irises look like jewels immersed in a stream, with a timid liveliness.
Evelyn's footsteps halted. She was accustomed to the luxurious accessories used by the Wizards in her family, but she had never seen such a decoration that directly affected the body itself.
"What is this made of?" she couldn't help but ask, the disdain in her tone softened, replaced by a hint of curiosity.
"This is a new product from our shop."
Morin immediately interjected, stirring the paste with the silver spoon, his voice perfectly calibrated with flattery,
"It's mixed with Phoenix tear crystal powder—extremely precious.
Blended with some dewdrops and evening primrose pulp, not only is it beautiful, but it also has night vision capabilities.
For night strolls in Hogwarts Castle… Oh, it's perfect for studying magic at night."
As he spoke, his gaze swept over Finn, as if appraising a useful tool:
"You too, dab some and apply it to the corners of your eyes."
Finn was already handsome, but his brow always held a stubborn streak. The silver shimmer at the corners of his eyes diluted some of that fierceness, revealing more of a youthful appearance.
Evelyn's gaze lingered on the dark, curly fuzz behind Finn's ear—a small tuft of deeper fur there, like a little beast that hadn't completely shed its winter coat.
She frowned, about to avert her eyes, but then saw Finn suddenly look up, his gaze like a startled pup, with a hint of wariness, looking directly at her.
"Hmph."
She scoffed, turning her face away, but her hand brushed the snake-shaped silver clip at her temple. "How much?"
"Ten Galleons, thank you."
Morin smiled, fine lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes. He turned to Finn and his sister, his voice still flat, betraying no emotion,
"You two wrap it up. Be careful not to ding the box."
Finn bit his lower lip, saying nothing. He took the small velvet pouch Lina handed him and carefully placed the mascara inside.
Lina stood on tiptoe, tying a crooked bow at the mouth of the pouch, her movements clumsy but earnest, her silver-white hair falling to brush the back of her hand.
As Evelyn took the pouch, her fingertips accidentally brushed Lina's hand.
The small hand was cool, but its palm bore slight calluses, completely lacking the smoothness a thirteen or fourteen-year-old young Witch should have. Instead, it felt like a male who regularly exercised.
Though she was a little surprised, she didn't think much of it. This time, she pulled out a small pouch of Galleons from a delicate little leather bag that looked quite expensive, and when she tossed them onto the counter, the force was a bit heavier than before.
"Let's go."
She turned and walked away, but as her cloak swept past the doorframe, she quickly glanced back at Finn—
The young man was leaning down, helping his sister wipe off the mascara powder from her face, his movements as gentle as if protecting a fragile piece of glass.
Lina tugged on Finn's sleeve and whispered, "Brother, that sister's hair clip looks like the Basilisk from the stories."
Finn said nothing, only tightened his grip on his sister's hand.
But when he looked down and saw the faint silver shimmer still on Lina's eyelashes, and recalled Morin's unperturbed expression as he counted the Galleons,
He suddenly understood—
In this Knockturn Alley, they were no different from the old cauldrons in the corner or the empty bottles on the counter. They were merely usable objects.
He led Lina back, and as they passed the counter, he glimpsed Morin lightly tapping the money pouch with his wand, muttering:
"Pure-blood girls always fall for this. But you two performed excellently, saving me the cost of hiring someone. It won't be long before you replace Tom, the top salesperson, as the best employees."
Finn's fingernails dug several red marks into his palm, and the fuzz on his earlobes trembled slightly in the shadows.
Morin's tone held neither disgust nor warmth, as if he were speaking to a broom—useful when needed, otherwise just propped against the wall.
This utter indifference made him more unnerved than Evelyn's disdain.
Finn pressed his lips together, picked up the still-trembling Lina, and turned to walk into the back room.
The door to the back room closed, shutting out the sounds from outside.
Morin's smile deflated like a punctured balloon.
He deftly swept the Galleons into his money pouch, the heavy feel prompting him to hum a tune.
In the attic, Lina began to sob softly again, burying her face in her brother's neck.
Finn gently patted his sister's back, his gaze fixed on the gradually brightening sky outside the window.
The morning light in Knockturn Alley was also grey, as if covered by a layer of grime that could never be washed away.
He remembered Morin's greedy look as he counted the Galleons, Evelyn's gaze that viewed them like trash, and the blood that splattered on his face when his father fell.
He didn't need Borgin's help, nor the pity of those so-called pure-blood Wizards.
He had claws, he had teeth, and he had someone he had to protect.