Toothy wizard with a sinister grin, Dawima stood in a daze, feeling as though he had fallen into an endless sea of bliss.
If Harry were to choose a spell he was most proficient at besides the Disarming Charm, it would undoubtedly be the Imperius Curse.
In an era when dark wizards were as common as stray dogs and poachers road freely, not being adept at resisting the Imperius Curse was practically an open invitation for dark wizards to exploit you.
Cassandra had spent countless hours training Harry in this very spell. The two would take turns casting the Imperius Curse on each other, breaking free of its control through sheer willpower, repeating the exercise to build resistance to its effects.
The Imperius Curse didn’t inherently harm the caster. Its unforgivable nature lay in the way it allowed the user to manipulate others. Hence, Harry harbored little aversion to practicing it.
And truth be told, making Cassandra dance like a robot was oddly satisfying.
Practice makes perfect. Harry beca so skilled at the Imperius Curse that he could cast it without a wand.
The greatest advantage of wandless magic? No risk of spell reversal.
“Give your wand,” Harry commanded, stretching out his hand.
Under the influence of the Imperius Curse, Dawima obediently retrieved his wand from his coat and handed it to Harry with both hands.
Harry took the wand, raised an eyebrow, and glanced at Dawima.
“Blackthorn wood, dragon heartstring core, twelve and a quarter inches,” Dawima replied with deference.
Pocketing the wand, Harry issued another command: “Take to the nearest shop. I need to buy so... special items that you can’t find elsewhere.”
“Yes, sir,” Dawima responded, bowing deeply before leading Harry out of the alley.
An outsider striding so boldly into Knockturn Alley was bound to attract trouble.
But when the locals saw Dawima, the sycophant, walking alongside Harry, they imdiately dismissed any thoughts of confrontation.
If soone as well-established as Dawima had been subdued, even the shrewdest dark wizards weren’t about to tempt fate.
The journey was uneventful. Dawima led Harry to a reasonably well-kept shop, pushed the door open, and stepped inside.
Approaching the counter, Dawima rang the bell.
While waiting for the shopkeeper to appear, Harry surveyed the store’s wares.
On a cushion inside a glass case lay a shriveled human hand, a stack of bloodstained cards, and a glassy, unmoving eyeball. Grimacing masks leered from the walls, while human bones adorned the counter, and rusty, jagged implents hung from the ceiling.
Before the withered hand stood a Pensieve.
Judging by the items on display, this was clearly no ordinary shop.
After a short wait, a hunched man appeared behind the counter, repeatedly slicking back his greasy hair.
Harry thought this shopkeeper might find common ground with Professor Snape.
“Dawima? What are you doing here?” Mr. Borgin asked, frowning in apparent displeasure.
Dawima let out an ingratiating chuckle and gestured toward Harry. “This gentleman here is looking to purchase so... rare items that aren’t available elsewhere. I thought of introducing him to you, Mr. Borgin.”
Only now did Mr. Borgin notice Harry, scrutinizing his pristine, immaculate attire. A flicker of caution crossed Borgin’s face.
“Good day, sir,” Borgin ventured. “May I ask your na?”
Harry, of course, wasn’t about to reveal his real na. Without hesitation, he borrowed a friend’s.
“Sebastian.”
“Sebastian what?” Borgin repeated, clearly fishing for a surna.
Harry, already impatient, snapped, “Sebastian None-of-Your-Damn-Business.”
“My apologies. Everyone has their secrets, don’t they?” Borgin said smoothly, recovering quickly. His tone was as slick as his hair. “An honor, Mr. Sebastian. Welco to my humble establishnt. How can I assist you today?”
“I need seeds for Biting Cabbage and, if possible, Venomous Tentacula,” Harry replied.
Borgin sighed dramatically, speaking in a slow drawl. “What a pity. Those magical plant seeds are currently prohibited from being sold—”
So he didn’t want to sell, eh?
Without a word, Harry pulled five Galleons from his pocket and slapped them onto the counter.
At the sight of the gold coins, Borgin’s eyes glead with a greed that rivaled a goblin’s.
“But then again, at Borgin and Burkes, we pride ourselves on eting all needs. There’s nothing we won’t sell—if the price is right.”
Harry pressed his hand against the coins, holding them in place. Borgin took the hint, turning to a cabinet and retrieving two small pouches.
“These contain seeds for Biting Cabbage and Venomous Tentacula,” Borgin said, placing them on the counter. “However, they’ve been stored for so ti and may require special care.”
Harry drew his wand and pointed it at the pouches.
Borgin flinched, but when he saw Harry’s wand rely touching the pouches, he visibly relaxed.
After verifying the seeds were genuine, Harry tucked them into his pocket.
“Mr. Borgin?” Harry asked.
“Yes, sir?” Borgin replied, pocketing the Galleons with glee.
“What’s your relation to Herbert Burke?”
“He was my grandfather,” Borgin answered. “Why, did you know him?”
Harry smiled. “Of course. I even witnessed his Sorting ceremony.”
Borgin glanced at Harry’s youthful face beneath the hood and assud he was bluffing.
Being a businessman, however, Borgin saw no point in arguing. He rely smiled and let the remark slide.
Harry shrugged, indifferent to whether Borgin believed him. He had spoken the truth, after all. Herbert Burke was morable—especially since there were no Abbotts in his year, making him the first to be Sorted.
With his purchases in hand, Harry left Borgin’s shop, satisfied.
Back in the alley, Harry lifted the Imperius Curse from Dawima.
Dawima blinked in confusion before realization struck. Pointing a trembling finger at Harry, he stamred, “You... you used an Unforgivable on —”
“Relax. It was just a harmless little spell,” Harry said calmly. “It’s our little secret, and I trust you’ll keep it that way.”
“You... you’re letting go?” Dawima asked hesitantly.
“Of course not. I prefer a safer approach.”
Drawing his wand, Harry aid it at Dawima.
Before Dawima could react, his body twisted and shrank, transforming into a wriggling Flobberworm.
But Harry wasn’t done. He followed up with another spell.
“Obliviate Maxima!”
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