Knockturn Alley, located in London, was another magical marketplace besides Diagon Alley.
Known for its many shops dealing with Dark Arts-related items, it was a place where rare and hard-to-find objects could often be acquired.
Walking through the alleyway, one could occasionally stumble upon treasures, provided they had a discerning eye. Otherwise, it was easy to be deceived.
This was a place where fakes and valuables coexisted, not unlike the Panjiayuan Market in Beijing.
…
After walking for a short while, William entered a shop.
Borgin and Burkes.
The establishment specialized in the purchase and sale of magical items with strange properties.
William headed straight to the counter, where a man was leaning over. The man was obsessively smoothing his greasy hair, which hung limply over his face.
"Mr. Stark, we meet again," Mr. Borgin said. His voice was as oily as his hair, dripping with an unpleasant slickness like a salted duck egg.
Even Professor Snape would have had to admit defeat in this regard.
William was a regular here. During previous summers, he had sold several of his strange alchemical creations to Borgin.
"Did you manage to find the security clock I asked for?" William inquired.
"Of course," Borgin said, smiling. "I searched far and wide before finally discovering one in the Place Cachee. But it wasn't cheap."
He flashed a row of yellowed teeth.
The Place Cachee was a wizarding street in Paris, accessible via a magical bronze statue. It served a similar purpose for Paris as Diagon Alley did for London.
Borgin quickly pulled out an ornate ebony clock, inlaid with gold and adorned with eight bells.
The clock's face bore inscriptions such as Home, Ministry of Magic, and Vault, but it was clearly broken.
"This clock cost me a fortune. A full 2,000 Galleons," Borgin bragged.
William said nothing and checked the clock carefully.
"Mr. Borgin, you're not being honest," William said, pointing to the base of the clock, "See here? You reinforced it with two screws to prevent it from falling apart.
"Do you know what this is? It's a Muggle item. There's even a child's doodle in French on the bottom. Lucky for me, I understand some French… You picked this up from a Muggle flea market, didn't you?"
Borgin fell silent. Indeed, he had acquired it from a Muggle junk market for just 100 francs, as scrap.
William shook his head after inspecting the clock further. "The face is damaged and shows signs of tampering by Muggles. You know, that makes it practically worthless."
"800 Galleons," Borgin relented.
"For this piece of junk, I wouldn't pay more than 50 Galleons," William countered.
Borgin's mouth twitched. This young man dared to haggle so boldly. Didn't he know the unspoken rule of cutting prices only by half?
"500 Galleons," Borgin gritted out, "I had to go all the way to Paris to find it."
"You didn't go there for me," William replied politely, smiling, "I heard the French Aurors intercepted one of your shipments recently?"
Borgin's expression shifted again, his creased face smoothing into a smile. "Mr. Stark, your information network is quite impressive."
"It's not bad," William said with a straight face, "I have some connections with Minister Fudge, you know. We became acquainted during the Merlin Award ceremony. What a fine man he is!"
His expression betrayed no hint of the blatant lie.
"Eighty Galleons, Mr. Stark. I'd be happy to call you a friend," Borgin conceded.
An item's value depended on whether there was a buyer. Without one, even the rarest object was just junk, especially a broken security clock. Borgin understood this well. Since he had only spent 100 francs on it, he'd make a profit regardless.
"Deal," William agreed.
He retrieved a pouch of Galleons from his enchanted ring and tossed it onto the counter.
As Borgin reached for the payment, William placed his hand over the pouch, smiling. "Wait, I have something else to sell."
William pulled another item from his ring, a piece of blue glass shaped like a mirror.
Borgin inhaled sharply, his disbelief evident. "You fixed it?"
"Fairly simple, wasn't it?" William said with a faint smile.
This wasn't an ordinary magical mirror for protection; it allowed the user to glimpse into the thoughts of others. It was essentially a weaker version of Legilimency.
The mirror had been broken when William had purchased it for 50 Galleons from Borgin's shop. Now, it was fully repaired.
Of course, repairing it hadn't been easy. William had relied on Nicolas Flamel's guidance to restore the mirror.
The core components of this enchanted mirror included the eye and nerve tissue of a Cougarcat, a magical creature resembling a puma native to the Appalachian Mountains.
Cougarcats could stand upright, run faster than arrows, and their eyes possessed hypnotic and Legilimency-like powers. Consequently, their eyes fetched high prices on the black market.
Many magical mirrors capable of reading minds, including the famous Mirror of Erised, incorporated Cougarcat eyes.
After a heated round of bargaining, William sold the restored mirror for 2,000 Galleons.
Considering he had initially purchased it for 50 Galleons—even factoring in the repair costs—he had made a substantial profit.
Indeed… extraordinary wit was humanity's greatest asset.
Borgin's demeanor grew increasingly amicable. He asked tentatively, "Mr. Stark, where did you learn alchemy?"
"Professor Babbling," William replied smoothly. He had been about to mention Dumbledore but instead threw out the name of the stunningly beautiful professor of ancient runes.
If someone caused Babbling trouble because of this, all the better. Her personality did deserve some payback.
"Mr. Stark, would you be interested in interning at our shop after graduation?" Borgin offered.
"I understand that someone of your caliber may not think much of our establishment. But here, you'd encounter magical artifacts from all over the world. Which os not an experience you an experience anywhere else in the world."
William chuckled softly. How could Borgin's shop compare to Nicolas Flamel's estate, which housed countless magical wonders?
"I'll consider it," William said diplomatically. After all, he might need Borgin's help procuring items in the future.
Borgin didn't appear disappointed. Looking at William, he was reminded of a young wizard from over half a century ago.
Tom Riddle.
The handsome young man, who could have lived off his looks alone, possessed extraordinary talent. A prefect, Head Boy, and recipient of special awards, he had once worked at Borgin and Burkes.
Borgin had lured him in with the promise of learning about rare magical artifacts. Unfortunately, Riddle had left shortly thereafter, and Borgin hadn't heard from him since.
A pity… perhaps he was dead.
…
William packed up his things and was about to leave when the door opened again.
This time, two familiar faces walked in—Lucius Malfoy and his son, Draco.