Knockturn Alley, Borgin and Burkes.
The greasy-haired Mr. Borgin was in high spirits, even his hunched body straightening sowhat.
He pointed at the star chart and said to Sherlock:
"I said—I can identify where it's from."
"Tch, I don't believe it."
"Mr. Sigerson, Borgin and Burkes is the largest shop in Knockturn Alley, and Mr. Borgin is the most knowledgeable shopkeeper here.
Even your friend Hagrid knows this—don't you believe ?"
"Hmph, you could never make believe your words."
"Then are you willing to bet with too?"
"Haha, this would just make you lose money, because I know I'm right."
Sherlock said with a stubborn and proud expression: "But I'm still willing to put up half a Galleon to bet with you, just to teach you not to be obstinate."
Hearing the bet was as much as half a Galleon, a smile flashed across Mr. Borgin's face as he pointed:
"Mr. Sigerson, this is a sumr Ophiuchus star chart!
I know very well that the do of the Parthenon Black Market is painted with it!"
"Really? I don't believe it!"
Even though Mr. Borgin had already given the answer, Sherlock still looked at him suspiciously.
"You're not conspiring with Hagrid to trick , are you? I've never heard of any black market in Knockturn Alley..."
Hagrid beside them kept shaking his hands, "I'm not, I didn't—"
"Haha, that's because it only opens one day a week, and only at four in the afternoon!"
Mr. Borgin laughed exceptionally happily, his face creasing into folds, "Even frequent Knockturn Alley visitors like Hagrid might not know."
"I indeed don't know—"
Hagrid murmured.
"It's alright, Hagrid, I've already earned you five Galleons!"
Mr. Borgin looked at Hagrid, then turned to Sherlock, "Mr. Sigerson, it seems you were overconfident."
"Stop talking to yourself!"
Sherlock looked unconvinced:
"You say black market, black market? Do you have any proof?"
He slamd the counter, making it rattle, completely appearing like soone who had lost and didn't want to pay up, becoming angry from embarrassnt.
"Hahaha, Mr. Sigerson, why do you think I said your luck was good?
Today happens to be the day the Parthenon Black Market is open!"
"Wh-what?"
Sherlock was shocked, "Such a coincidence?"
"It really is such a coincidence! Let see, ah, it's already past four o'clock!"
Mr. Borgin said with a smile, "Last week the market opened on Friday, but this week it's Monday.
I heard that recently those Nordic fellows have been conducting so sort of transaction—anyway, you can easily verify what I just said."
"Take us there imdiately!"
Hearing this, Sherlock imdiately put away the star chart, "I still don't believe it—if that place really looks the sa as what's drawn on this chart, I'll give you half a Galleon right away!"
"My pleasure!"
Mr. Borgin was overjoyed. Just making a trip to earn half a Galleon—why not?
He could see now that this young wizard calling himself Sigerson ca from wealthy family and couldn't keep his composure when things happened.
Lucky for him that he'd befriended Hagrid, otherwise a newcor like this swaggering around Knockturn Alley would never be let off so easily by the dark wizards.
It was just... why wasn't such a person his friend?
What a pity!
Next, Mr. Borgin quickly closed his shop and led Sherlock and Hagrid to the Parthenon Black Market.
Borgin and Burkes could indeed be considered one of the larger shops in Knockturn Alley.
But compared to other shops, it was only slightly more respectable.
Across from it, a shop window gloomily displayed so shrunken heads.
Two doors down, a large cage was crawling with massive black spiders.
In a nearby dark doorway, two raggedly dressed wizards were whispering.
But when they saw Hagrid's enormous fra, they imdiately looked away.
After confirming through eye contact—this was soone they couldn't ss with.
Mr. Borgin led Sherlock and Hagrid westward to a corner, stopping at a shop selling poisonous candles.
An old wooden street sign hung in front of the shop, reading "Knockturn Alley."
Sherlock took a closer look.
Simple wordplay—Knockturn Alley was indeed derived from "nocturnally," which quite fit the actual environnt, forming a stark contrast with the bright Diagon Alley.
"Just a bit further south."
Mr. Borgin pointed ahead, leading them around the corner and past three more shops, finally stopping at a dead end.
Knockturn Alley was already a dim place, but this spot seed particularly dark.
If the large-frad Hagrid weren't beside him, the current Sherlock would never have co here alone.
Directly in front and to their right were connected low storefronts. Mr. Borgin's face once again broke into a smile:
"This is the Parthenon Black Market, an enterprise cooked up by a group of Nordic fellows—look over there, Mr. Sigerson, you can see it just by looking up."
Following Mr. Borgin's pointing direction, Sherlock and Hagrid indeed saw the Ophiuchus pattern painted on the do.
Not just Ophiuchus, but also Serpens constellation connected to it.
"Well, Mr. Sigerson? What do you have to say now?"
Seeing this scene, Sherlock imdiately beca dejected, showing a very annoyed expression.
He reluctantly counted out 8 silver Sickles from his pocket, handing them to Mr. Borgin with an indescribably profound disgust.
"Take the money I'm giving you and get out of my sight imdiately!"
Mr. Borgin paused, "Sir, wasn't it supposed to be half a Galleon?"
1 Galleon = 17 Sickles = 493 Knuts.
Strictly speaking, half a Galleon should be 8.5 silver Sickles.
"You bastard, do you want to round it up for you too?"
Seeing Sherlock's furious appearance, Mr. Borgin's previous slight doubts disappeared completely.
He imdiately quit while ahead, "Alright, alright, Mr. Hagrid, Mr. Sigerson, if there's anything like this next ti, please rember to visit Borgin and Burkes!"
"Get lost! Looking at you makes feel unlucky! You made lose five and a half Galleons for nothing!"
Sherlock impatiently waved his hand, then turned to Hagrid, "Let's go. Since we're already here, let's take a look!
If you see anything suitable, I'll just deduct it from the bet for you!"
Mr. Borgin, who was leaving, heard Sherlock and Hagrid's conversation and couldn't help but chuckle inwardly.
Though it was called a black market, it was really just those fellows making themselves look important.
While they did have so specialty goods he didn't have, the prices—tsk tsk. After being cheated a few tis, this guy would know that Borgin and Burkes was the best choice!
Once certain that Borgin had completely left, Sherlock withdrew his gaze and snorted coldly:
"See, Hagrid, with this type of person, trying to get secrets directly from his mouth is very difficult.
I dare say that even if I placed a hundred Galleons in front of him, he'd beco suspicious instead and wouldn't reveal the truth to us like he just did.
Dealing with this type of fellow, betting is actually the most cost-effective thod. This is much more convenient than our making a big show of looking for clues, and it doesn't raise suspicion."
After saying this, seeing Hagrid looking at him with complete bewildernt, Sherlock sighed and simply stated his deduction directly:
"Hagrid, I think we're approaching the end of our investigation."
"What? So quickly?"
This ti Hagrid understood, and he stared in amazent.
"This was also an unexpected situation for ."
Sherlock's expression was grave, "I didn't expect this week's black market opening to be on Monday, so we must speed up our actions—otherwise our translator friend might be in danger."
"What did you say?"
Hagrid's eyes widened like copper bells.
"Without doubt, that fellow calling himself Smith chose to use the Portkey at four in the afternoon each ti to use the crowd from the black market opening to cover the magical disturbance of the Portkey.
The equally spaced light spots ford by sunlight filtering through the curtain gaps in Musgrave's room indeed co from the Ophiuchus star chart here.
Combined with the Icelandic lichen spores mixed in the yew wood fragnts and the Nordic background of the black market, all this together is enough to prove that the place where Musgrave is imprisoned is right here.
But since the black market opened today, Smith must have taken the translator away again!
Damn, this was my oversight—his friends obviously can't protect him very well.
If I'm not mistaken, after today's translation work, our translator friend might be killed for leaking information."
By the ti Sherlock finished speaking, his expression had beco very serious.
Hagrid's eyes couldn't get any wider, "What should we do now?"
"We need to find where he's imprisoned first—Got it!"
While talking to Hagrid, Sherlock hadn't been standing still but moving quickly forward, occasionally looking up.
When people noticed them, they all looked away upon seeing Hagrid.
After confirming through eye contact—this was soone they couldn't ss with.
Fortunately, his destination was actually so distance from the black market's actual trading location.
Sherlock stopped in front of a building, "From the arrangent of the light spots, the place where Musgrave is imprisoned should be right here."
"This looks like a warehouse."
Hagrid said, looking around.
Sherlock nodded.
The most dangerous place is the safest place.
Smith wanted to use the black-market crowd to cover the magical traces left by the Portkey, while also worrying about these people discovering his secret, so he pulled this stunt.
It was logical enough.
Hagrid looked at Sherlock sowhat hesitantly, "Should we open it?"
"Let's do it, this is the place."
Hagrid took a deep breath, applied slight pressure with both hands, and pushed open the warehouse door directly.
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