If Diagon Alley in London was the wizarding world's equivalent of a financial district — a magical CBD comparable to the City of London, Dabeiyao, or Manhattan — then Knockturn Alley was the largest gray-market trading hub in all of wizarding Britain.
Knockturn Alley was filled with speculators, eccentrics, and dark wizards. It specialized in the buying and selling of rare and peculiar magical items — though that was merely its surface. The real profits came from the gray trade, or from dealing in Dark Magic artifacts.
In August of 1992, Harry had once accidentally wandered into Knockturn Alley, where he had seen Lucius Malfoy disposing of Dark artifacts from his home. At that time, Mr. Malfoy had visited Borgin and Burkes — the most famous shop on Knockturn Alley.
Located at 13B Knockturn Alley, Borgin and Burkes was a shop with a long and shadowy history. Mr. Borgin and Mr. Burke, the two owners, often dealt in ancient magical relics.
Because of the sinister intentions of their cunning clientele — and the greed of the two proprietors themselves — the shop frequently engaged in gray-market transactions and regularly sold cursed or otherwise dangerous magical items.
If one were to ask which deal had been the most profitable in the shop's history, the two men would probably think first of the locket. They had purchased Salazar Slytherin's heirloom from a woman for only ten Galleons and then resold it to another — the most lucrative trade this shady establishment had ever made.
And on a late June morning, Borgin and Burkes was about to welcome another major deal.
That morning, the shop was completely empty. Mr. Borgin, bored out of his mind, was idly slicking back his greasy hair. For a shop like this, business was always sporadic — half a year with no customers, and then one transaction that could pay for the next six months.
Just as Mr. Borgin was about to retreat to the back room for a rest, the front door opened. A man carrying a small suitcase walked in.
He was utterly, painfully ordinary — not handsome, but not ugly either; not tall, but not short. The kind of man who could disappear in a crowd, impossible to pick out again once he was gone.
Mr. Borgin was quite certain that neither he nor Mr. Burke had ever dealt with this man before.
But, being as slick as his greasy hair, Mr. Borgin never missed a potential business opportunity.
He took the initiative to approach and said respectfully, "Sir, I don't know why, but the moment I saw you, I felt a sense of delight. Have we met somewhere before?"
The man ignored him. Instead, he looked around the shop, examining everything as though it were his first time in such a place.
After a while, he replied, "No, sir. I don't believe we've ever met."
"Even if we haven't met before," said Mr. Borgin warmly, "now that we have, we can treat it as an old friend's reunion! Are you here to buy something? Would you like me to show you around?"
The shop was dimly lit, and not a single item displayed in the windows or on the counters was legal.
On a cushion inside a glass case rested a withered human hand, a deck of bloodstained playing cards, and a motionless glass eyeball.
There were grotesque masks, human bones of various sizes, and a silver hairpin tarnished to a dull black.
But these were merely the tip of the iceberg. Beneath the counters and in the back rooms of the shop, far more dangerous and secret items were surely hidden from view.
The man frowned slightly — it was unclear whether he was uncomfortable with Mr. Borgin's enthusiasm or simply disliked it.
He said coolly, "No need to trouble yourself. I have something I'd like you to appraise."
"With pleasure, sir," Mr. Borgin said, though his smile faltered a little. "Let's discuss it inside."
Leading the way, Mr. Borgin walked toward the back room of the shop, and the man followed silently behind him.
With his back to the man, Mr. Borgin's eyes darted shrewdly.
He didn't believe this stranger could possibly have anything truly valuable, but his professional instincts kept him outwardly respectful.
Still, Mr. Borgin made a silent decision — if the man did have something good, he would make sure to bleed him dry, forcing the purchase price as low as possible.
Inside the room, Mr. Borgin first poured the man a glass of wine before taking his seat.
Smiling slyly, he said, "Sir, what item would you like me to appraise? Is it in that suitcase of yours?"
The man didn't touch the wine.
He set the suitcase on the table, opened it, and turned it around so that Mr. Borgin could see inside.
Mr. Borgin's expression changed instantly — he was startled by what lay within.
He quickly put on his pince-nez glasses and leaned in close to inspect the contents carefully.
"This… this is something I haven't seen in a long time," he murmured. "It wouldn't happen to be connected to Hogwarts, would it?"
"How could Dumbledore possibly allow such a thing to leave the school? I have my own channels," the man said calmly, swirling the wine in his glass. "And where it came from shouldn't concern you."
"Of course, of course," said Mr. Borgin smoothly. "We're not the Ministry of Magic, after all — we don't care where it came from."
Setting down his glasses, he'd already begun estimating its worth — and plotting how to obtain it for the smallest possible cost.
A shed snakeskin on its own wasn't particularly valuable, but a basilisk hide was another matter entirely.
Such a vicious, dark creature could only be controlled by a Parselmouth, and breeding basilisks had long been strictly forbidden.
Even dark wizards rarely dared to break that particular law — it was far too dangerous.
And considering that Britain hadn't seen a basilisk in four hundred years, a complete basilisk hide like this could fetch an astronomical price.
The uses for basilisk hide were numerous — it could be used in potion-making, as a protective charm against evil, or in the crafting of dark magical artifacts.
Moreover, basilisk hide, like dragon hide, had strong defensive properties — capable of resisting magic and repelling spells.
In fact, armor made from basilisk hide was said to be far superior to that made from dragon hide.
Aside from the complete basilisk skin, the suitcase — which had clearly been enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm — also contained a basilisk horn.
According to legend, Salazar Slytherin's wand was made from just such a horn.
That wand had eventually passed into the hands of Gormlaith Gaunt, until it was stolen by her niece, Isolt Sayre, who brought it with her to America.
In a fit of rage and vengeance, Gormlaith used Parseltongue to put the wand into dormancy, a slumber from which it never awoke.
It was later buried deep beneath the ground outside Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where a magical tree — a serpentwood — grew from it, whose leaves were said to possess extraordinary healing powers.
Of course, Mr. Borgin had never seen that serpentwood tree himself, nor did he know whether the leaves truly held such miraculous properties — but all these stories only underscored the immense value of basilisk horn.
And now, this basilisk skin and horn would be the only ones of their kind to enter the market in centuries — every shrewd businessman knew exactly what that meant.
Maintaining a calm, measured tone, Mr. Borgin said smoothly, "Sir, I'm afraid this may not be quite as valuable as you imagine. And given the restrictions imposed by law, there won't be many people willing to buy such an item."
At those words, the man said nothing.
Instead, he silently closed the suitcase, lifted it, and headed straight for the door.
Mr. Borgin had only meant to drive down the price, to set the stage for a cheaper deal — he hadn't expected the man to walk out outright.
Seeing him about to leave, Mr. Borgin hastily called out, "Sir, what are you planning to do?"
The man turned back slightly and replied evenly, "Well, since it's not worth much, there's no need to waste any more time. My dog happens to be short of a kennel — this snakeskin looks about right. Should make a fine doghouse lining."
Hearing such a blasphemous comment — using basilisk skin to line a doghouse — Mr. Borgin nearly choked on his own fury.
He wanted nothing more than to throttle the man where he stood; for a fleeting moment, he even entertained the idea of robbing him outright.
Still, forcing down his anger, Mr. Borgin said smoothly, "You're being far too hasty, sir. If you don't mind, you could leave the items here for safekeeping. Once I find a proper buyer, you'll receive the money in full — I'd only ask for a small commission for my trouble."
The man shook his head, meeting Borgin's gaze with a calm, steady look.
"Because you lied to me just now, back in that room," he said slowly, "I have no reason to trust you. I can't leave the basilisk skin or the horn in your care — not unless you pay me now."
At that, Mr. Borgin realized he had completely misjudged his guest.
The man had been playing the fool, pretending to be naive — but he was no stranger to places like this.
Admitting defeat, Borgin raised five fingers — his first offer.
The man's expression didn't change. He said evenly, "You should be able to tell that I'm not a patient man. So if we ever meet again, do yourself a favor — don't lie to me."
With that, he turned and started toward the door once more.
Borgin hurried to stop him, making a second offer — the man still shook his head.
After several rounds of bargaining, the price climbed close to Borgin's psychological limit before the man finally agreed.
But even then, the deal couldn't be completed.
With an awkward smile, Borgin said, "Sir, I'm afraid I don't have that much gold on hand right now. Please give me a few days to gather the funds. Three days — come back in three days, and we'll settle the payment in full!"
The man thought for a moment, then said curtly, "Two days. I'll be back here, same time, in two days."
With that, he turned and left Borgin and Burkes.
Mr. Borgin watched him go — and the moment the man disappeared into the alley, a small, inconspicuous wizard slipped out from the shadows and followed after him.
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