Gilmore Douglas nervously adjusted his collar and, with a flutter of excitement, flipped through the manuscript pages that had been sent to him a few days ago.
The new work had been approved for printing.
He was waiting for its author, a man who had been gaining immense popularity lately.
Distracted by the text of the literary work, Douglas didn’t immediately notice the commotion near the entrance to the tavern.
He only became aware of it when a woman’s laughter rang out.
A dark-haired witch near the door, her face flushed, was hissing at a chuckling brunette, while a golden-haired wizard in white and gold robes, with a bright smile on his face, was scribbling something in a notebook with a pink cover.
When the notebook was returned to the brunette, she blushed even deeper, grabbed her friend’s hand, and practically flew out of the establishment.
The blue-eyed blond just shook his head and turned his attention to the main room.
“Mr.
Lockhart, I’m over here.”
The employee of one of magical Britain’s five publishing houses stood up and waved his hand.
“Good day, Mr.
Gilmore.
I see you’re still partial to Bitter.”
The approaching wizard noted the copper-colored liquid foaming in the mug.
Douglas just smiled.
“It’s getting harder and harder to find time to enjoy a beer since my promotion.
Can’t drink at work, my wife keeps an eagle eye on what’s in my glass at home, and I don’t get to see my friends as often as I used to.
By the way, why did those ladies react so…
enthusiastically?”
“Well, that charming dark-haired lady was so thrilled to see me that she handed me her notebook without hesitation to get an autograph.
It’s the one she keeps for sketching…”
The man listened with curiosity, taking a sip of his beer.
“…in the Nude style.
I happened to mention that my figure came out quite well in her sketches.”
“Pfft.”
Gilmore coughed, thumping his chest a couple of times and wiping his mouth.
Not a drop of the alcoholic beverage had touched the smiling blond, thanks to a thin, semi-transparent shield of magical energy that had appeared in its path.
“Unexpected.
Sorry for the mess.”
“Don’t worry.
I’m much more interested in the fate of my new work right now.”
“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that.
The publisher has already approved the print run.
And given your growing popularity, we have a proposal for you.”
“You do love your dramatic pauses.
Well, I’m all ears and burning with curiosity.”
Lockhart grinned, slightly flustering the man, who let out an awkward chuckle.
“Why don’t you organize a book launch event for your new work?
There are a lot of readers who want to meet you right now, and your books are becoming popular abroad too.
Such an event would draw more attention to your new book and could boost sales.”
The golden-haired wizard tilted his head thoughtfully, studying his companion for a few seconds before answering.
“In principle, I’m not against it.
But I’ve never organized anything like this before.”
“Don’t worry.
The publisher is ready to help you with that.
We have a vested interest as well.”
“Well then, I agree.
It’s a pleasure working with you.”
“And the pleasure is all mine, Mr.
Lockhart.”
Douglas shook the offered hand, noting how much stronger it felt since their last meeting.
“Well, since we’ve settled the important matters, would you care to join me in celebrating this wonderful occasion, Mr.
Lockhart?”
He gestured to the table laden with various snacks.
Gilderoy smiled more broadly and waved to the waiter.
“I’m always happy to celebrate a beautiful life, Mr.
Gilmore.”
After checking my privacy and masking charms once more, I stepped out of the alleyway in Knockturn Alley. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
Two weeks had passed since I’d returned to England.
Those two weeks had been dedicated to meetings with my informants and reviewing the information they’d gathered during my absence.
Before leaving for Prague and then Berlin, I’d tasked them with collecting information on the current political climate in the country and any known followers of the Dark Lord.
I already knew a fair bit about the Death Eaters from my past life; I’d managed to interrogate one of them.
But the information I’d gotten had mostly concerned the time after the Cataclysm.
And since I was in a different world, my future knowledge was of dubious usefulness.
Of course, many key figures and major events aligned with my memories, but as they say, “the devil is in the details.” And who better than a Master of Ritualistics to know that?
I glanced at the four figures in cloaks who were watching my appearance on the street.
A pulse of mental magic, laced with murderous intent, quickly made them lose interest.
I caught a glimpse of a dog’s head emblem on one of them, a sign of the “Black Dogs” gang, and paid them no further attention.
A few minutes later, I stood before a dark door with a sign above it, bearing the name of the shop in large white letters.
“Borgin and Burkes.”
Ignoring the enchanted items visible through the shop windows, designed to lure in customers, I opened the door.
A soft bell chimed.
The shopkeeper, a man with dull blue eyes, who had been speaking with a woman whose face was hidden by a dark veil, turned his gaze to me.
“You can pick up your order in a week, madam.”
The woman said nothing, simply nodded and headed for the exit.
The scent of expensive perfume hit my nose, the kind only wealthy witches or aristocrats could afford on a regular basis.
There was also a scent that reminded me of one rabid bitch.
A mental probe, formed from pure will and used by Legilimens when establishing a mental connection, shot through the witch’s weak mental shield, shattering the artifact-created defenses in an instant.
The probe dissipated immediately, triggering a stronger mind-protection artifact.
The witch, just leaving the shop, paused and looked around, casting a suspicious glance at my back before walking away more quickly.
I finally understood, thanks to that brief mental contact, why her scent had reminded me of that bitch.
Narcissa Malfoy had, for reasons unknown to me, decided to visit Knockturn Alley.
It seemed the Black sisters shared a remarkably similar scent.
I wondered what her expression would be if she knew the real reason I was here.
Behind the counter, Borgin, the shop’s owner, assessed my obviously expensive cloak and the dark void beneath my hood.
His smile became more servile.
“How can I help you, sir…”
“Gegenhain.”
The shopkeeper immediately perked up.
I surveyed him with an evaluating eye.
He was a fairly powerful wizard, and he owned the most “popular” shop in Knockturn Alley.
I placed two small vials of faintly glowing golden liquid on the counter.
“Two doses of Liquid Luck.”
Borgin, waiting for my nod, immediately began casting diagnostic charms to verify the authenticity and correct preparation of the potion.
Liquid Luck was a unique brew, difficult to make and requiring six months to reach the proper condition for consumption.
Such a thing was always useful to have around and was in high demand on the market.
Since it had just been finished a few days ago, and I needed a particular item that a certain merchant was charging a hefty price for…
“Excellent.
Here’s what we agreed on.
The artifact personally crafted by Orion Black: the ‘Ring of Darkness.'”
I pulled out my wand, which to Borgin now looked like a blurred, indistinct twig, and cast an assessment charm over the silver ring with the dark red ruby.
I immediately recognized the intricate enchantment.
Upon activation, it would create an area devoid of light for others, similar to “Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder,” where tracking charms were useless, while the wearer could see everything in black and white.
Such items had been popular among aristocrats during the Grindelwald war, when they’d pay their last Galleon for a means of escape.
The most important thing for me, however, was that the artifact had indeed been created by the late head of the Black family.
I knew his handiwork from several of his creations that had fallen into my hands in the past.
“This is exactly what I need.
No complaints about the transaction.”
“Excellent.
Do you have any other requests?”
The shopkeeper’s smile returned after he’d pocketed the Liquid Luck.
“If anything on this list becomes available, contact me first.
Here’s payment for the request.”
I placed a sheet of paper with my wish list on the counter and weighed it down with a pouch containing twenty Galleons.
He’d inadvertently activated the contract written in invisible ink on the other side of the sheet by taking it.
Nothing serious, or he might have noticed it.
And only complex contracts require a conscious mental “agreement” to be binding.
But if he acquired anything on the list and “forgot” to inform me first, I would know.
I took the ring and headed for the exit.
“It was a pleasure doing business with you.
Come again.”
The door chimed softly behind me, and I was once again in the gloomy, depressing, yet contradictory streets of Knockturn Alley.
A place where one could see both beggars and members of the “Sacred Twenty-Eight,” whose activities didn’t always align with Ministry law.
That was one reason the not-quite-Dark-Lord had been able to attract so many aristocrats to his cause.
And if all went according to plan, I’d soon be visiting the estate of one of those “Sacred Twenty-Eight” families, thanks to this ring.
A nostalgic trip, recalling the days of the Cataclysm when I’d broken into abandoned manors whose protective charms were still active.
Eizik Florish, owner of Flourish and Blotts and descendant of the shop’s founder, stared murderously at the crowd of people in his store.
The majority were women, ranging in age from nineteen to Merlin-knew-how-old.
Normally, the wizard was “hardened” by the annual August influx of students from Hogwarts, Ilvermorny, and Beauxbatons.
But the current commotion had clearly become a new test for his mental health.
The only thing he was grateful for was that it wasn’t August.
“Small children” plus “ravenous fans of a popular author” would have been too “lethal a combo” for the descendant of the store’s founder.
“Please don’t touch those brown books.
They have a tendency to stick to your hands, and they’re hard to remove.”
“Madam, I strongly advise you not to hold that folio so tightly.
It can increase its weight up to three stone.”
“Yes, the book signing will begin promptly at three, which is in five minutes.”
“Miss, you’re holding an Invisibility Book, which describes the magic of Disillusionment Charms.
Thank you for finding it.
Would you like to buy it?”
He walked over to the counter, pocketed a few Sickles for a sold book, and sighed wearily, daydreaming about resting after work.
“They’ve been like this since lunch?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded involuntarily at the voice behind him, too tired to even turn his head.
“Well then, sorry for what I’m about to do.
They’re about to get louder.”
“Huh?”
The confused shopkeeper stared at the smiling blond in a blue robe with a gold cloak over his shoulders, who had appeared from behind him.
The wizard strode toward the table in the center of the store, where an empty stand held only a poster with the date and time of Gilderoy Lockhart’s book signing.
The crowd of people parted like the Red Sea before Moses as the golden-haired wizard approached the table.
The clasps of his opened suitcase clicked.
He waved his wand.
Several rolls of parchment flew out of the suitcase and began to unroll, attaching themselves to the stand or simply floating in the air.
One poster depicted an anthropomorphic wolf standing on its hind legs.
Another showed a pale-faced man with slightly protruding fangs.
A third was a panorama of an immense forest.
The customers immediately recognized the illustrations from the first two books, “Voyages with Vampires” and “Wanderings with Werewolves.”
Satisfied, the blond waved his wand again.
The illustrations came to life.
One customer flinched back as a werewolf suddenly snarled at her.
A new wave of chatter rose, quickly cut off by a soft male voice that echoed through the entire shop.
“Allow me to introduce myself.
My name is Gilderoy Lockhart.
Brilliant Potioneer, powerful wizard, handsome man, and simply a very modest writer with the brightest smile on the British Isles.
Now, please take your places in line.
Today, I’m ready to chat with each of you and introduce my new book, ‘Travels with Kidnappers.'”
The blue-eyed blond in the blue robe with the gold cloak smiled brightly, holding up the freshly printed book that would soon be on bookstore shelves.
“Gilderoy, marry me!”
“Haha, lady, you’ll have to tell me your name first.”
Eizik Florish groaned quietly at the rising commotion.
As he’d been told, they were only getting louder.