Leaving Ollivander's shop, Finn clutched his aspen wand tightly, as if it were the most precious treasure in the world.
Lina, meanwhile, tucked her hawthorn wand into her belt, her fingertips occasionally touching the shaft, feeling the continuous warmth.
They passed a shop selling Quidditch supplies, where bludgers in the display window ricocheted rapidly behind the glass.
Finn stopped, staring intently, until Morin cleared his throat, and he reluctantly moved on. "Want one?" Morin asked.
Finn quickly shook his head: "No, no thanks, it's too expensive."
Morin said nothing more, only asking the shop assistant to wrap a constantly screaming rubber duck when they passed a magic joke shop.
"For practice," he said, handing the package to Finn, "try using your new wand to make it shut up—it's better than constantly being chased by biting cabbages."
Finn's face instantly flushed, and he glared fiercely at the rubber duck, as if it were the biting cabbage from Borgin and Burkes.
Lina looked at her brother and suddenly felt the sunlight seemed warmer, and even the gloom had faded a bit.
As the door to Flourish and Blotts opened, a scent of old paper and ink wafted out, much more pleasant than the bat guano smell in their own shop.
Bookshelves piled from floor to ceiling, filled with books of various covers; some books' pages would even turn themselves, actively displaying their content to customers.
Finn was immediately drawn to the "Quidditch Series" in the corner, standing on tiptoe to pull out "Quidditch: Origins and Advanced Techniques" from the highest shelf, its cover depicting a Wizard on a broomstick performing a daring dive.
He opened the first page, his eyes instantly widening—the illustrations in the book moved on their own, a Wizard on a broomstick soaring across the paper, even the sound of the wind depicted vividly.
Lina, meanwhile, was attracted to a row of green-covered botanical books—
"Dangerous Magical Plants: From Mandrake to Whomping Willow": The Mandrake on the cover was making a face, while the Whomping Willow branches beside it waved at her in a friendly manner.
She carefully pulled out the book; as her fingertips touched the page, a silver evening primrose pattern emerged from the paper, gently blossoming in her palm.
"Young Wizards who love books are rare these days," a gentle voice sounded from behind her.
The bookstore owner, a plump Wizard with round spectacles, was smiling at her. "This is the new edition of the plant encyclopedia; the plants inside have their own emotions—it seems they like you very much."
Lina's face immediately turned red, and she quickly put the book back on the shelf: "I, I was just looking."
Morin had walked over at some point, tapping his finger on the bookshelf: "These two, and that one, 'The Ten Harms of Long-Term Dark Arts Use,' wrap them all up."
He pointed to the Quidditch book in Finn's hand, the plant encyclopedia Lina was looking at, and the remaining one, which he bought for himself.
"Boss, I don't need..." Lina's words were cut short by Morin.
"Don't misunderstand," Morin snorted, his tone still sharp, "the plant encyclopedia is for you to research how to fertilize my poisonous tentacles and biting cabbages—"
He glanced at Finn, "As for that Quidditch book, it's for you to learn how to use magic to repair those cursed flying broomsticks; don't always expect me to do it."
Finn and Lina exchanged glances, both seeing undisguised amusement in each other's eyes.
Although their boss was sharp-tongued, they both understood that this was his rare kindness.
Leaving the bookstore, Finn hugged the thick "Quidditch: Origins," walking with a spring in his step.
Lina, meanwhile, held the plant encyclopedia tightly, occasionally flipping a page with her fingertips to watch the glowing grass move across the paper.
As they passed the owl shop, a snow-white owl suddenly hooted twice at Lina, its sound as clear as a silver bell.
"It seems to like you," Finn said.
Lina stopped, looking at the owl in the cage. It had amber eyes and was tilting its head, studying her, its talons clutching a dried lavender sprig.
Lina remembered the homing pigeon her father kept when he was alive, which also communicated with people through its gaze.
"If you like it, buy it," Morin's voice sounded from behind them.
Lina quickly shook her head: "No, it's too much trouble to raise, and... it must be expensive, right?"
Morin didn't insist, only asking the shop assistant to wrap two boxes of Honeydukes sweets when they passed a candy shop.
"lemon drop, yours." He handed one box to Lina, and then shoved the other box of licorice wands to Finn. "Don't eat them in the shop, they attract bugs—especially don't let that screaming Mandrake see them; it's allergic to licorice."
Finn's eyes shone like two stars, and he carefully tucked the candy box into his embrace, as if it were the most precious treasure in the world.
Lina held the lemon drop in her hand, feeling the slight coolness from the box, her heart filled with something warm.
They spent an entire afternoon in Diagon Alley.
Finn kept trying to cast silencing charms on the duck with his new wand, only to be chased and pecked by the duck all afternoon.
Lina, meanwhile, discovered that with her hawthorn wand, plant-related magic became much more intuitive. She could easily make flowers bloom more vibrantly, a conclusion she reached after lingering outside a flower shop for a long time.
Morin mostly followed behind, silently watching them laugh and play, and then, when Finn almost got hit in the head by a flying broom, he flicked his wand and froze the broom in mid-air.
As the sun set, the golden light of the dome gradually turned into a warm orange-red.
They passed through the Leaky Cauldron; by the time they returned to Knockturn Alley, their shadows had stretched long, and the moss on the flagstones exuded a damp, earthy smell, a stark contrast to the sweet aroma of Diagon Alley.
Nearing Borgin and Burkes, Finn suddenly stopped and gently tugged at the hem of Morin's cloak:
"Thank you, Boss."
His voice was soft, yet exceptionally clear.
Morin's steps paused, but he didn't turn around, only waved his hand:
"Just practice that 'Basic Dark Arts Object Repair' book I gave you a few days ago."
Lina looked at his back and suddenly felt that the wind in Knockturn Alley wasn't so cold anymore.
She touched the already melted lemon drop in her pocket, then looked at the hawthorn wand at her waist; a warmth briefly dispelled the confusion and fear in her heart.
Back in the shop, Finn immediately rushed to the attic, impatiently flipping open "Quidditch: Origins," his wand tip unconsciously twitching, as if he were imagining himself as a Beater, holding a club.
Lina sat behind the counter, carefully opening "Magical Plants Encyclopedia," watching the evening primrose gently sway on the pages, a smile involuntarily gracing her lips.
Morin looked at them, said nothing, and simply turned and walked into the basement.
The wooden beams of the attic cast long, thin shadows in the moonlight, and Finn's wand tip hovered above an illustration in "Quidditch: Origins."
The Seeker in the book had just completed a beautiful dive when a shimmering Golden Snitch suddenly darted from the page, circled his fingertip, and then "whoosh" disappeared back into the book.
"Hey!" Finn exclaimed softly, and his aspen wand suddenly felt warm.
In the night sky outside the window, a forgotten old quill suddenly rose into the air, circling the attic like a clumsy Golden Snitch.
Finn hurriedly reached for it with his wand, but accidentally knocked over the pile of brooms in the corner. As the bamboo broom handles clattered down, he heard Lina's soft laughter from downstairs.
"Be careful," Lina's voice floated up the stairs, "the attic floor is worm-eaten; don't fall through."
Finn, holding a broomstick, leaned over to look down. Lina was sitting on a high stool behind the counter, her hawthorn wand pointing diagonally at the tabletop.
In the glass jar under the lamp, several dried lavender sprigs slowly unfurled their leaves, and pale purple flower buds gradually swelled in the wand's light, emitting a bitter aroma—
"You seem to really like plants," Finn said, running downstairs, still clutching the Quidditch book.
Lina's fingertips gently caressed the lavender petals; the purple flowers suddenly tilted towards her, as if bowing.
"Mr. Borgin said the hawthorn wand suits me especially well," she said, looking down at the light-colored patterns on the wand shaft, "but I always feel he was thinking of something else at the time."
No sooner had she spoken than a "click" sounded from the shadows behind the counter.
Morin emerged from the basement, the hem of his black robe stained with some unknown gray slime.
He glanced at the lavender on the counter, his brow furrowing then relaxing: "Don't bother with these useless things with your amateur magic."
But his gaze lingered for a moment on the book in Finn's hand: "Starting tomorrow, every morning, use the Mending Charm on the old brooms in the attic."
Finn's eyes lit up: "Is it to practice repairing flying broomsticks?"
"It's so you don't just sit around doing nothing when there are no customers."
Morin stepped out of the shadows, carrying a birdcage, which he placed in front of Lina.
A rustling and scratching immediately came from the cage, as if something inside had cowered.
Only after Mr. Borgin's footsteps faded down the corridor did Lina lift the cloth curtain.
Inside the birdcage was only half a gnawed biscuit and a small tuft of shimmering silver feathers—identical to the snow-white owl's feathers from that afternoon.
"He's really a kind person," Lina whispered.
Finn looked at the rubber duck Morin had given him, which was now squatting in the corner of the counter, its round eyes staring at them, but it no longer opened its mouth to bite.
He then touched the licorice wand candy in his pocket; the rustle of the wrapper was exceptionally clear in the quiet shop.
Late at night, Finn tossed and turned in bed. The attic skylight faced the sky of Knockturn Alley, and a few stars peeked through the clouds, looking just like the glint of Golden Snitches.
He pulled out the aspen wand from under his pillow; its tip glowed faintly in the darkness.
Downstairs, by the counter, Lina was still awake.
She had the plant encyclopedia spread on her lap; as her fingertip traced the illustration of the Whomping Willow, a few dewdrops suddenly seeped from the page.
The hawthorn wand trembled gently, and the dewdrops rolled down the page onto the tabletop, actually sprouting tiny green shoots in the wood grain.
Behind the stone door of the basement, Morin was scraping a curved metal handle with a dagger, as if assembling something.
Where the dagger scraped, the black mold on the metal surface flaked off, revealing dark gold patterns underneath.
The poisonous tentacles in the corner purred contentedly, their sharp thorns gently brushing against the nearby flowerpot—
A few cat meows came from the distant alley, mixed with the chiming of Borgin and Burkes' old grandfather clock.
If they didn't rest now, they wouldn't be able to get up for work tomorrow.
The siblings exchanged a knowing glance, and the glow of their wands gradually dimmed.
As Lina closed the encyclopedia, she saw the Mandrake on the cover wink at her.
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