“Now this is interesting,” Nora said, raising an eyebrow while her hands kept moving.
She deliberately avoided the items that looked dangerous at first glance.
For example, there was a ring inlaid with a dark-red gemstone.
Just touching it gave off a bone-chilling cold.
There was also an ancient book with a black cover, a skull painted on the front.
The moment she opened the first page, she caught a faint smell of blood.
These things were clearly not ordinary antiques.
It was better not to touch them for now.
When she finished tidying up behind the counter, she discovered a hidden compartment.
Inside the compartment, there were no gold or jewels, nor any shocking secrets.
There was only a thick stack of account books and a silver key about the size of her palm.
The handwriting in the account books looked very similar to the one on the contract—neat and elegant.
They recorded the shop’s transactions over the past few years, though most of them were small, scattered entries.
For example: “March 1989, one copper candlestick, sold for 2 Galleons.” “July 1990, one old edition of Magical Drafts and Potions, sold for 1 Galleon.” They all seemed to be transactions with ordinary customers.
As for the silver key, it was engraved with patterns similar to the star-bell design above the doorway.
Nora tried inserting it into a small keyhole on the side of the counter.
With a soft click, a drawer unexpectedly popped out from beneath the counter.
Inside the drawer were several bottles of potions in various colors.
The labels read things like “Cleaning Charm Enhancer,” “Insect-Repelling Spray,” and “Antique Restoration Fluid.” Beside them was a small money pouch.
When she opened it, she found dozens of gold Galleons and silver Sickles inside.
It was heavy in her hand, probably the shop’s working capital.
“At least he was considerate,” Nora said, putting away the key and the money pouch.
Her resistance toward this job lessened a little more.
At the very least, the previous owner had not left her with an empty shell and expected her to start from nothing.
After cleaning the counter area, she straightened up.
Her gaze fell on a coat rack in the corner.
It was made of brass, and only one cloak hung from it.
The cloak was pure black.
The fabric looked like some kind of heavy velvet, and its edges were embroidered with a circle of dark-silver patterns, exactly like the ones on the key.
Nora walked over and reached out to touch it.
The fabric was unbelievably smooth, carrying a strange coolness, as though fragments of the night sky had been woven into it.
“What is this?
A relic left behind by the former owner?” she wondered curiously as she took the cloak down and shook it out.
The cloak’s length reached exactly to her ankles.
Its style was very simple, without even a hood, but when she put it on, it fit her unusually well, as if it had been tailor-made for her.
She stood in front of the mirror and adjusted it, wanting to see the overall effect.
But the moment her gaze landed on the mirror, she froze.
The mirror was empty.
It was not that there was anything wrong with the mirror itself.
The shelves, the walls, and even the cloth she had placed beside her were all clearly reflected in it.
The only thing missing was the figure that should have been hers.
Only the black cloak appeared in the mirror.
The cloak seemed to be floating there out of thin air.
Beneath the collar was a bottomless darkness.
Let alone her face or figure, even the shadow of her hair could not be seen.
“An Invisibility Cloak?” Nora instinctively raised a hand to touch her own face.
Her fingers could feel the warmth of her skin, proving that she was not dreaming.
She moved her arm again.
The cloak in the mirror moved with her, but there was still no visible outline belonging to her.
“No, this isn’t an ordinary Invisibility Cloak,” she quickly realized.
She knew about Harry Potter’s Invisibility Cloak.
That thing made a person disappear completely, leaving not even a shadow behind.
But this cloak was different.
It did not make the wearer vanish.
Instead, it “hid” the wearer inside the cloak.
From the outside, all one could see was an empty cloak.
“So it’s meant to conceal one’s identity…” Nora suddenly understood.
Thinking about it, that made sense.
For the owner of a shop that handled these kinds of “special transactions,” having their identity exposed was no laughing matter.
If some guest whose transaction had failed happened to bear a grudge and followed their identity back to their doorstep, that would be a serious problem.
This cloak was clearly the “professional equipment” left behind by the previous owner.
She turned in a circle in front of the mirror.
Watching the empty cloak spin in the reflection, she could not help the corners of her mouth from curving upward.
Although this thing was a little eerie, it was undoubtedly practical.
It was practically tailor-made for someone like her, who wanted to “keep a low profile and survive.”
Just as she was studying the cloak in front of the mirror, a soft creak came from the entrance.
Ding—
The door had been pushed open, but the string of crystal beads the old man had called the “Star Bell” did not make a sound.
There was only the old, worn friction of the wooden door turning on its hinges.
“An ordinary customer.”
Nora immediately realized what was happening and quickly took off the cloak, folded it, and placed it on the nearby cabinet.
She did not want to receive a customer in such a strange appearance on her very first day at work.
She tidied her wizarding robes, making sure her collar and cuffs were neat, then quickly walked to the center of the shop.
A standard, polite yet distant smile was already on her face.
“Welcome to Merlin’s Antique Shop.
How may I help—”
Halfway through her sentence, she froze.
Standing at the entrance was a short, plump witch dressed in a freshly pressed purple velvet robe.
On her head was a matching purple hat decorated with feathers.
She wore a kind smile on her face and carried a handbag embroidered with golden thread.
“Madam Malkin?” Nora asked, somewhat surprised.
The visitor was none other than Madam Malkin, the owner of the famous robe shop in Diagon Alley, Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions.
Madam Malkin clearly had not expected to see Nora here either.
She froze for a moment, then the smile on her face grew even brighter.
“Oh my, it really is you, Nora!
I stood outside looking for quite a while just now.
I thought I had walked into the wrong place!”
As she spoke, she walked into the shop, curiously looking around.
There was a trace of inquiry in her eyes.
Nora hurried forward to greet her.
“Madam, what brings you here?
Are you looking to buy something?”
She and Madam Malkin could be considered old acquaintances.
Ever since Nora had first started at Hogwarts, she would go to Madam Malkin’s shop to work whenever she had time during the summer holidays and Christmas break.
Ironing robes, receiving customers, organizing accounts… She was quick with her hands, sharp-minded, and fast at calculations.
Madam Malkin had always taken good care of her.
Back then, she had just left the orphanage and had little money in hand.
Madam Malkin had not only paid her a salary half again as high as the other apprentices,
but had also often used excuses like “the size isn’t right” or “the style is out of date” to give her several brand-new sets of wizarding robes.
Nora knew very well that this was the elderly woman’s way of looking after her.
“I came to see you, silly child.” Madam Malkin took Nora’s hand and looked her up and down, her eyes filled with genuine concern.
“Yesterday, I heard from Sanders that you were coming to work at this shop, and I just couldn’t stop worrying about it.
Honestly, child, what were you thinking?
You left a perfectly good job at the Ministry of Magic behind and came running to a place like this?”