After McGonagall finished helping Aaron purchase all his school supplies, the two returned to The Leaky Cauldron.
“I’m going to settle the bill for the Floo powder with Tom,” McGonagall said, slipping her gloves off and putting them in her pocket.
“Wait for me here and don’t wander off.”
“Alright.”
McGonagall turned and walked toward the bar, exchanging a few words with the bartender, Old Tom.
Aaron sat in a corner seat, his eyes scanning every wizard in the pub.
Most people were drinking and chatting normally, but he noticed a small detail.
Near the back door, a few figures in dark cloaks slipped in and out occasionally, their expressions furtive and their steps hurried.
They weren’t coming from the direction of Diagon Alley, but from another way entirely.
Knockturn Alley.
Aaron had read about that place in the original story.
Borgin and Burkes, dark alley markets—a paradise for smugglers and dark magic artifacts.
More importantly, it held things that regular shops in Diagon Alley would never sell.
Injured, abandoned, and smuggled magical creatures.
Aaron stood up and walked over to McGonagall.
“Professor McGonagall, I need to use the restroom.”
McGonagall was counting out the money for the Floo powder and didn’t even look up.
“Turn left at the end of the hallway.”
“Thank you.”
Aaron walked down the hallway to the very end and pushed open the restroom door.
It was empty.
He stepped up to the sink and looked at his reflection in the mirrored glass.
Black hair, grayish-blue eyes, and a lean chin.
A ten-year-old boy who looked completely ordinary.
Aaron closed his eyes and activated the core talent of the Demiguise.
The change started at the surface of his skin.
In the mirror, his outline rippled like water, blurring ring by ring.
From his face to his neck, his arms to his toes, he faded away bit by bit until he was gone.
Three seconds later, the mirror showed nothing but the mottled wall behind him.
Aaron looked down at his hands.
Invisible—not even a shadow remained.
He pushed open the restroom door and stepped silently into the hallway.
The noise of the pub drifted over from the main room, where a few drunk wizards were pounding on the tables and singing.
Aaron hugged the wall as he passed them, and no one spared him a second glance.
He reached the back door and gently pushed it open.
The brick entrance to Diagon Alley was on the left, but to the right lay a narrow alley only wide enough for one person to pass through.
The light was dim, and the walls were caked with black mold.
Knockturn Alley.
Aaron turned into the passage on the right.
The further he walked, the darker it became.
The shops on either side belonged to a completely different world from Diagon Alley.
Instead of broomsticks and Chocolate Frogs, the shop windows displayed shrunken head specimens, eyeballs floating in green liquid, and dried-up giant spider carapaces hanging from iron hooks.
A musty stench hung thick in the air, like rotting wood mixed with animal entrails.
Aaron frowned, but he didn’t stop.
Twenty meters ahead at the corner, two men in black cloaks were leaning against a wall, talking.
One was short and stout, the other tall and thin.
Both had their faces hidden under heavy hoods and spoke in low whispers.
But as Aaron approached under his invisibility, he heard every word clearly.
“…That batch of Horned Snakes all died. Only one hatchling left, and its tail is totally rotted out. Can’t fetch a decent price.” The short, fat one spat on the ground.
“Did you throw it out?”
“Dumped it right by that pile of trash in the back. Wouldn’t survive the night anyway.”
“What a waste. A Horned Snake bile duct goes for eight Galleons apiece.”
“Its bile sac is tiny—smaller than my fingernail. Even Borgin didn’t want it. Now, that salamander is still alive, locked in Borgin’s cellar. Nearly burned down the shop next door last time.”
“That old devil Borgin actually took in a salamander?”
“Why wouldn’t he? Supposedly some buyer offered fifty Galleons for it. Once its wounds heal, he’s shipping it out.”
The two kept talking as they walked toward the alley entrance, brushing right past Aaron, completely unaware of the invisible ten-year-old boy standing beside them.
Aaron waited until they were far enough away before continuing deeper along the path they had come from.
Knockturn Alley grew narrower the deeper he went.
Overhead, the buildings leaned so close they nearly met, leaving only a sliver of sky.
A cold rain had begun to fall at some point, pattering against the cobblestones and mixing with the stench of the drains.
After turning two corners, Aaron smelled the tang of blood.
It was faint, but remarkably sharp amidst the decay.
At the end of the dark alley stood a dead-end wall, at the base of which piled a heap of discarded rubbish.
Broken cauldrons, blackened potion bottles, and a few filthy rags soaked with unidentified liquids.
Deep inside the pile, something moved.
Aaron squatted down and pulled aside a dirty rag.
A snake.
No, not an ordinary snake.
It was only as long as an adult’s forearm, dark green from head to tail, with a gem-like horn atop its head—the signature mark of a Horned Snake hatchling.
Right now, that horn was dull and lusterless, looking like a piece of shattered glass.
The tip of its tail had been severed by something sharp; the wound was rotted black and smelled foul.
The entire snake was curled into a ball, its scales dry and flaking off, trembling faintly with every breath.
It was barely holding onto life.
Aaron observed it for a few seconds, then extended his hand.
Just as his fingers were about to touch the Horned Snake, footsteps echoed from the entrance of the alley.
Heavy, hurried footsteps—two people.
“I’m telling you, even if the bile sac is small, crushing it up to mix into potions can still fetch coin. You wasteful fool, throwing it away just like that!”
“Alright, alright! Ain’t I coming back to look for it?”
The short, fat smuggler and the tall, thin one had doubled back.
Their footsteps drew closer and closer, the faint light from their wand tips illuminating the walls on either side of the alley.
Aaron didn’t move.
In his invisible state, his body and aura merged seamlessly into the surrounding air.
Even if the smugglers stepped right over him, they wouldn’t notice a thing.
But the Horned Snake was a different story.
It was still exposed.
If they found the snake and extracted its bile sac, the hatchling would be beyond saving.
Aaron quickened his movements, his fingers making contact with the snake’s cold scales.
The Horned Snake suddenly coiled back and struck, opening its jaws to expose two tiny fangs as it bit toward Aaron’s finger.
It landed its strike.
The two tiny fangs pierced Aaron’s fingertip, injecting a stream of icy venom into his skin.
Aaron didn’t flinch.
He possessed a divine spark within him; before this meager trace of venom could even enter his bloodstream, it was completely dissolved by divine power.
The pain didn’t even last half a second.
The Horned Snake clamped its jaws onto his finger without letting go, its body trembling violently, its eyes brimming with defense and hostility.
The footsteps had reached the corner.
Aaron gently pressed the top of the snake’s head with his other hand, releasing an extremely faint glint of divine light from his fingertip.
The light was faint, nearly invisible to the naked eye, but the snake’s reaction was intense beyond measure.
Its body froze.
The force of its bite relaxed bit by bit, its fangs retreating from Aaron’s fingertip as the hostility in its slit pupils dissipated like a receding tide.
In its place came a submission on an instinctual level.
This was not fear.
Fear would make a snake flee or attack frantically.
It was something far deeper.
Like a stream flowing into the sea, it required no reason or thought; it simply knew that was where it belonged.
The Horned Snake released its hold and gently rubbed its scarred head against Aaron’s finger.
“Hurry! Over there!”
The smugglers’ voices were right upon him, the wand light reaching the edge of the trash pile.
With a slight hook of Aaron’s index finger, the Horned Snake vanished into thin air.
“…Where is it? Wait, where’s the snake?”
The fat smuggler rushed over to the trash pile, squatting down and flipping everything upside down.
“Gone?”
“That’s impossible! We threw it right here. Even if it died, there should be a body.”
The tall, thin one raised his wand and shone it around.
The beam swept across Aaron’s position, passing right through his body without revealing a thing.
“Dammit, could a stray cat have dragged it off?”
“This shithole can’t even keep rats alive, where would a stray cat come from?”
“Who cares! Let’s go, let’s go. We can head back to Borgin’s later to check the market price on that salamander.”
The two smugglers grumbled curses as they left.
Aaron stood in place for thirty seconds.
Once he confirmed no one else was around, he closed his eyes and immersed his consciousness into the Divine Kingdom.
Within the two-hundred-meter expanse of the Divine Kingdom, in a corner that had been nothing but wild grass and a stream moments ago, a little snake now curled inside a crevice between stones.
The wounds on the Horned Snake hatchling were healing at a speed visible to the naked eye.
Inside the Divine Kingdom, Aaron was rule itself.
He didn’t need to cast any spells; with a single thought, everything in this space operated according to his will.
New scales grew over the Horned Snake’s severed tail tip.
The festering wound scabbed over and fell away, revealing pristine skin beneath.
The dull horn atop its head regained its luster once more, gleaming like a miniature emerald.
The entire process took less than a minute.
The Horned Snake poked its head out from the crevice and raised its upper body, its golden slit pupils staring toward the direction of Aaron’s projected consciousness in the void.
Then, it did something that surprised Aaron.
It lowered its head.
It wasn’t a simple bow; its entire upper body prostrated itself against the ground, pointing the horn atop its head toward Aaron, as if offering up its most precious possession.
A wave of faith force gushed from the depths of the snake’s soul—stronger and hotter than that of the Demiguise, carrying a raw, pure veneration.
[Believer +1 (Horned Snake Hatchling · Magical Creature · Rare)] [Power of Faith: Intense] [Divine Kingdom Space Expanded: Radius 200m → 500m] [Talent Sharing Activated] [Acquired Core Talent: Parseltongue (Capable of communicating with all serpent species at a soul level)]
A wave of information flooded into Aaron’s mind.
It was not text, nor images, but an entirely new language system etched directly into the depths of his consciousness.
He heard a voice.
“…Granted me… life… Great… Lord…”