"Slipping away just before the gathering starts…"
Borgin watched the figure disappear into the distance, muttering under his breath, "Feels like an Auror scoping the place out. What if, during the meeting, a squad of Aurors bursts in and rounds us all up?"
Under the current Statute of Secrecy, misusing Muggle artifacts was a serious offense. If the law was strictly enforced, every witch and wizard at this gathering could end up in Azkaban.
"Don't overthink it," Melvin said to him. "If it was really an Auror doing reconnaissance, they'd try to infiltrate the meeting, identify the organizer, arrest them, and interrogate for a list of attendees to track down one by one."
"You're right…"
Borgin nodded, finding the logic sound, but then froze. He glanced at the Hogwarts professor beside him, mouth opening as if to speak, then closing again.
Something felt off.
"Let's head inside," Melvin said.
"…"
Borgin forced a smile, nodding stiffly.
He had every reason to believe Borgin and Burkes' decades-old reputation was about to take a hit.
The shop was an oddity, its decor elegant and ornate, perfectly suited to pure-blood wizard tastes. Deep-stained wooden furniture, stair railings carved with unrecognizable magical creatures, and a fireplace that wasn't just for show—its outer marble was blackened with soot.
From outside, it seemed unremarkable, but stepping through the door revealed a surprisingly spacious interior. Traces of a Seamless Stretching Charm lingered in the corners and ceiling, applied with such skill that the expansion felt natural and seamless, a testament to the wizard who'd worked the magic.
The shop wasn't just a front—it genuinely handled appliance repairs and dealt in secondhand electronics.
Shelves and display cases were lined with an array of old Muggle appliances. Under the stairs, cardboard boxes, foam padding, basic spare parts, and batteries of various types were stacked.
The gathering was nothing like Melvin had expected—no secretive circle of wizards around a table, but more like a Muggle department store. Staff stood by the displays, patiently explaining products to customers in terms wizards could understand, breaking down Muggle technology in clear, accessible language.
The scene was orderly.
No one checked identities. Melvin entered without resistance, following Borgin quietly to the back row.
The attendees were courteous, stepping aside to make room. The presenter, a reserved-looking middle-aged wizard, glanced at them briefly before continuing his explanation:
"Today, we're showcasing three sets of Muggle equipment, customized to your requests. First up is professional recording gear—a 48-track reel-to-reel recorder from Switzerland, using one-inch tape. Its frequency range meets all your needs, capable of capturing even a banshee's wail, though without the banshee's magical potency, so it's just a bit shrill. It comes with a mixing console, effects processor, and condenser microphone for natural vocal recording with minimal electrical noise…"
Melvin listened, stunned.
This was cutting-edge—were these really the wizards he knew?
He lowered his voice and asked, "Who ordered this?"
Borgin leaned in, whispering, "The witch in the black robe up front—Celestina Warbeck, the singer."
Melvin's gaze shifted to the front row, where a short, stout Black witch stood closest to the display, wearing a half-mask styled like a Thestral. Her eyes gleamed as she stared at the microphone.
Celestina Warbeck, the world-famous wizarding songstress.
Her musical talent reportedly outshone her magical gifts, evident from a young age. The Warbecks had considered sending her to a drama or music school, but the wizarding world lacked such institutions. Disappointed, Mrs. Warbeck sent her daughter to Hogwarts, where Celestina's influence led to the creation of the school's drama club and choir.
The choir, now the Hogwarts Toad Choir under Professor Flitwick's guidance, still performed at major events.
The drama club, however, had disbanded. According to Dumbledore, it was due to Professor Kettleburn insisting on using Ashwinder eggs as props for *The Fountain of Fair Fortune*, nearly burning down the Great Hall.
After graduating, Celestina skyrocketed to fame, becoming a featured singer on the Wizarding Wireless Network, her songs looping nightly on the radio.
That is, until Dolores Umbridge rose to head the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. She tightened the Statute of Secrecy's rules, proposing a ban on wizarding radio under the pretext of protecting witches and young wizards from Muggle influence. Fudge approved the measure.
The day the law passed, the Wizarding Wireless Network went off-air, and Fudge's office was flooded with Howlers from outraged witches.
The Wizengamot hastily amended the law, allowing the network to resume broadcasting, but with restrictions: radios had to be regulated by the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, modified to block Muggle stations and receive only wizarding channels.
"She's working on a new album and wants to include a banshee's high notes in her lead track. Her old recording setup—ten years outdated—exploded the moment the banshee sang, so she's here for a custom upgrade," Borgin explained.
"A pioneer in the arts…" Melvin said, growing intrigued.
Next up was the second set of equipment.
"A high-speed rotary printing press," the presenter said. "Per your specifications, I've replaced all components that could be substituted with magic, mainly the automatic paper feeder and hot-air drying system…"
The middle-aged wizard explained patiently, answering every question thoroughly. "The shaftless drive system and ink regulation could also be replaced, but they demand extreme precision. Only a handful of wizards worldwide could cast the charms needed to operate them flawlessly."
Before Melvin could ask, Borgin leaned closer, whispering, "They're from the newspaper. Here to customize a color printer. You inspired them, you know."
"Hm?"
"The editors saw Muggle books at Flourish and Blotts and were hooked. They decided to bring color printing to *The Daily Prophet*."
"No wonder *The Daily Prophet* is the best-selling wizarding paper," Melvin said, glancing at the newspaper staff. He was slightly disappointed not to spot Rita Skeeter, the infamous star editor.
The third item was unexpected—a portable radio, battery-operated, commissioned by Borgin himself.
"The witches at home need this," Borgin said. "They can't cook dinner without Celestina's voice in the background."
"I know about that," Melvin replied. "When the Ministry tried to ban wizarding radio, those witches sent enough letters to force the Wizengamot to amend the law, creating a wizard-only channel with Ministry-regulated radios."
Melvin eyed Borgin's excitement, puzzled. "But regular magical shops sell radios too. Why risk coming here?"
"Because Celestina's songs only play at night. The rest of the time, witches want something different, fresh, interesting…" Borgin paused. "These radios can pick up Muggle stations."
"I thought you were pure-blood. Shouldn't you disapprove of that?"
"I'm pure-blood, sure, but I'm a businessman first. Business is business."
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