When she suddenly appeared in this unfamiliar shop with no warning at all, poor Miss Otter was terrified.
Just look at those bizarre items: a shriveled hand, a bone-white skull, bloodstained playing cards, and a strange "proof mask"...
What kind of place was this?!
Hermione's throat tightened. The urge to cry surged again and again like a tide, but the stubborn toughness in her bones forced the tears back down.
Thank goodness the shopkeeper—despite looking frightening—didn't make things too difficult for her and let her leave. That finally let the little otter breathe again.
But the moment she stepped out of Borgin and Burkes and saw the street outside, she froze in place, wanting to cry for a completely different reason.
A narrow, twisting lane. Walls mottled with moss. Sunlight that felt dim and dirty. Uneven cobblestones full of potholes.
Where in the world had she been sent?
This… was still Diagon Alley, right?
Mrs. Weasley's warning echoed in Hermione's mind: when using Floo Powder, you had to say the destination clearly and accurately.
And just now, in her panic, she'd probably gotten a syllable wrong. Great. A perfect misfire, dumping her into somewhere completely unfamiliar.
She didn't even need to think about it. The malicious stares coming at her from every direction were enough to send ice down her spine. She realized instantly that she was in serious danger.
No. She had to get off this street, now.
But when Hermione tried to leave, her frantic, frightened posture in Knockturn Alley was like a lantern in the dark—far too eye-catching.
The moment she looked scared, the dark witches and wizards around her understood she had no one backing her.
And to them, that made her prey.
So after she'd only taken a few steps, a cluster of ugly-looking dark wizards surrounded her.
One of them—an old witch in a pointed hat with deeply wrinkled skin—shrieked, "Oh, child, looks like you're lost. Maybe I can take you somewhere safer."
Another—an old wizard with a rasping voice—licked his lips and said, "You look frightened. Don't worry. I'll 'protect' you… and maybe even find you something to eat."
These "kind people" barely bothered hiding their malice. They boxed Hermione in, blocking every path out.
Hermione's fear only intensified. In her mind, she kept calling Harry's name, desperately hoping he'd appear and save her.
Faced with their pressure, she forced herself to be brave and shouted, "N-no! I know the way! And I'm friends with Harry Potter! You know who he is—he beat the Dark Lord a second time not long ago!"
For a split second, it worked. The crowd took a cautious step back.
Then their expressions twisted into something even uglier, like they wanted to devour her whole.
"Little witches get punished for lying!"
"Yeah, right. Everyone you run into is connected to Harry Potter?"
"So what if you know Harry Potter? If we're careful enough, who's going to know it was us?"
As the last words fell, the biggest of the men reached out for Hermione, trying to drag her into a shadowed corner.
Hermione panicked. She instinctively went for her wand to fight back—but she was a child, and he was an adult. The gap was too large. The moment her fingers brushed her wand, a witch snatched it away.
"No!"
At that critical instant, a sharp, violent tearing sound cut through the air.
A blinding, dazzling blue flash streaked past.
Then came the sickening sound of muscle ripping and bone snapping, followed by a spray of warm blood.
A dark wizard's hand vanished at the wrist. The severed hand arced through the air and slapped onto the ground with a wet sound, twitching faintly.
The man who'd been reaching for Hermione stared at his stump, stunned for half a heartbeat.
Then he unleashed a shriek so horrific it made everyone's scalp prickle.
"My hand! My hand!"
Hermione had been in pure terror, looking around wildly, when that scream yanked her attention to the side.
Amid the rising cries and frantic shouts, she turned to look down the lane.
In that instant, an indescribable relief surged through her like warm water.
Harry was coming.
He was gripping Ginny's hand, moving fast toward them.
And the dazzling blue strike that had stunned the entire alley was clearly the work of the lightning sword in Harry's hand, radiating a cold, lethal presence.
Harry stopped.
In the next breath, roaring electricity wrapped around him like a tide.
With that electric glow, he looked like a blazing sun—forcing the long-settled darkness of Knockturn Alley to recoil.
In one hand, the lightning sword.
In the other, an oversized wand that looked nothing like the standard wandwork of the wizarding world.
His voice was low and icy.
"Get lost."
The words carried a bone-deep chill, like the voice of Death delivering a final warning—before raising a scythe.
The dark wizards exchanged looks, shocked and wavering. After only a heartbeat of hesitation, they didn't dare stall another second.
They turned and ran, fleeing toward the far end of the alley.
So the little witch hadn't been lying.
She really did know Harry Potter.
And none of them had the nerve to provoke the savior who'd just defeated the Dark Lord.
The moment Harry reached Hermione, she threw herself into him like a drowning person grabbing a lifeline, hugging him with all her strength.
Harry lifted a hand and gently patted her head.
"You okay?"
Hermione nodded hard against his chest, sniffling. "Mm-hm. I'm okay!"
Once her breathing steadied and her shaking eased, Harry took Hermione's hand with one hand and kept hold of Ginny with the other, leading them steadily out of Knockturn Alley.
Step by step, they left that grim place behind and walked into the bright, familiar bustle of Diagon Alley.
Warm sunlight spilled over all three of them, as if it meant to wash away the fear and grime of what had just happened.
But before leaving completely, Harry glanced back. His gaze met the hidden eyes watching from the dark, one by one.
Like rats in a sewer, those watchers flinched and retreated deeper into the shadows.
After they walked a bit farther, once Harry was sure no one was observing them, they passed a corner—and the sunlight behind them subtly warped.
As Harry's main body disappeared from view, a short figure wrapped in a black wizard's robe slipped silently into Knockturn Alley.
The Images of Ikonn. A clone spell, each duplicate carrying a portion of Harry's strength.
Only a portion—but it was more than enough to deal with a pack of sewer rats.
Today, Knockturn Alley was destined to be drenched in blood.
…
Back in the familiar wizarding world, Hermione finally let out a long breath.
This was her first time seeing the darkness of the wizarding world up close, and even now, her heart wouldn't stop pounding.
She gently tugged Harry's sleeve, still shaken, and asked softly, "Harry… that street just now was…?"
Harry's expression softened. "Knockturn Alley. It's a place where dark magical objects are traded."
"Remember this. Unless you have absolutely no choice, don't go near it. There are almost no good people there."
Hermione frowned, confused. "But why? It's just one wall away. How can Knockturn Alley and Diagon Alley be so different? Why doesn't the Ministry purge Knockturn Alley instead of letting it exist?"
"You're right, Hermione. Why doesn't it?" Harry looked back toward the mouth of Knockturn Alley too, his gaze deep and still, like a lake with no light.
"Why does the Ministry tolerate darkness spreading like that? At Kamar-Taj, something like this would never be allowed…"
His last words were so quiet that neither Hermione nor Ginny caught them clearly.
But both girls couldn't help staring at Harry.
Sunlight poured generously down Diagon Alley, bathing Harry's lower half in warm gold—while the inky shadow from Knockturn Alley seemed to creep up his upper body.
The contrast was sharp.
And for some reason, in that moment, a strange feeling rose in both of them.
They suddenly realized… they didn't understand Harry nearly as well as they thought they did.
After that, Harry accompanied Hermione and Ginny as they wandered around Diagon Alley. Both girls loved sweets, so Harry bought plenty from Honeydukes—Chocolate Frogs, Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, Fizzing Whizbees, and more.
When they reached Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, Harry's eyes shifted slightly. He remembered the Weasley family wasn't wealthy. If Ginny went to school, she'd probably end up wearing secondhand, battered robes like Ron.
That would not do.
So Harry smiled at the two girls. "Since we're here, let's get new clothes. Consider it a gift from me to both of you."
Hermione didn't feel strongly either way, but Ginny lit up with excitement. She'd wanted new clothes for a long time.
Still, her upbringing made her hesitate. "Is this really okay? I mean… I shouldn't waste too much of your money…"
Harry understood her concern. He reached into his pocket dimension, pulled out a bag of gold Galleons, and opened it for her to see.
"Don't worry. I'm richer than most pure-blood families."
Ginny: happy flailing
They each bought two new sets of robes. The cost was nothing to Harry, but it made Ginny and Hermione genuinely happy.
By the time they were done, the sky was starting to darken, and the three of them headed back toward the Weasleys'.
But when they reached the far end of Diagon Alley, two figures approached from the opposite direction.
One of them was familiar.
Malfoy.
Beside him walked a middle-aged man with the same pale blond hair—like platinum, like silver-gold—shining brilliantly in the light. Everything about him radiated elegance and aristocratic pride.
Harry already knew who it was.
Draco Malfoy's father.
Lucius Malfoy.
Judging by their direction, they were probably heading for Knockturn Alley—likely for something they didn't want seen in daylight.
Harry didn't feel like digging into it. He was about to pretend he hadn't noticed and leave.
Even though Draco had already been turned into one of Harry's "borrowers," Harry's plan for him was to keep him as a spy buried inside the pure-blood circle. That meant Draco couldn't be exposed.
But just as Harry turned to go, Lucius Malfoy lifted a hand and blocked him.
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