Nora felt a warmth spread through her heart.
She had known it.
Madam Malkin had probably come here not to buy anything, but because she was worried about her.
Merlin’s Antique Shop truly had a pitifully low presence in Diagon Alley.
It was not like Ollivanders, with its century-old reputation, nor was it as lively as Flourish and Blotts.
Its front door was usually shut tight, and people rarely saw anyone going in or out.
Over time, everyone had almost forgotten that there was such a shop tucked away at the end of the alley.
So when they suddenly heard that a newcomer had taken over as the shop manager—especially when that newcomer was Nora, someone everyone knew and believed had a bright future ahead of her—it would have been strange if they hadn’t worried.
“Please don’t worry, Madam.
This place is actually quite nice,” Nora explained with a smile.
“The work isn’t too busy, the owner is generous, and it’s close to your shop too.
I’ll be able to visit you often from now on.”
“Really?” Madam Malkin still looked unconvinced.
She glanced around the shop again, her brows knitting slightly.
“This shop… it does look rather clean, but the atmosphere feels a little strange, doesn’t it?”
“It’s an old building, so it’s bound to feel a bit gloomy,” Nora said, half-truthfully.
As she spoke, she casually picked up the most ordinary-looking item on the shelf: a white ceramic bowl.
“Look, the things here are all quite nice.
By the way, what did you say you wanted to buy?”
Only then did Madam Malkin remember her “purpose” for coming.
She pointed at the bowl in Nora’s hand.
“Oh, right.
I came to buy a bowl.
The one I used for jam at home was accidentally broken yesterday, so I thought that since this is an antique shop, you might have something suitable.”
Her gaze fell on the white porcelain bowl.
It was simple and plain, with only a few blue forget-me-nots painted on its surface.
It really did look like an ordinary household bowl.
“This one is nice,” Madam Malkin said with a nod.
“How much is it?”
“If you want it, Madam, you don’t need to pay,” Nora said with a smile.
“Consider it my thanks for all the care you’ve given me in the past.”
“That won’t do.” Madam Malkin immediately waved her hand and took a few silver Sickles from her handbag, placing them on the counter.
“There’s no such thing as taking something for free when someone is running a business.
You’ve only just started working here.
You can’t go breaking the rules already.”
Nora knew Madam Malkin’s temperament, so she could only accept the money.
She picked up the white porcelain bowl, glanced at the “Echo Cabinet” beside her, then said to Madam Malkin, “Madam, our shop has a rule.
Antiques need to be processed before they can be taken away.
Would it be all right for you to come and collect it at this time tomorrow?”
“It still needs to be processed?” Madam Malkin was taken aback for a moment, but she quickly nodded.
“All right, that’s fine.
I’m not in any hurry to use it anyway.” She paused, then reminded Nora again.
“Nora, if you suffer any grievances here, or if you feel that something isn’t right, you must tell me, understand?
If it really doesn’t work out, come back to my shop.
I’ll keep a place for you.”
“Yes, I understand.
Thank you, Madam.” Nora’s heart felt warm, and she nodded firmly.
Madam Malkin fussed over her for a while longer, reminding her of things like “close the shop early at night” and “don’t deal with suspicious people,” before finally leaving, still looking reluctant and worried.
Nora saw her to the door.
Just as she was about to turn back into the shop, she caught sight, from the corner of her eye, of several heads poking out from the shadows at the alley entrance.
It was Florean, the owner of Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour—the always-smiling wizard who could make all kinds of ice cream flavors.
There was also Barnes from Flourish and Blotts, a witch with thick glasses who always spoke in a calm, unhurried manner.
When they noticed that Nora had seen them, the few of them awkwardly tucked their necks in a little, then nodded to her one after another before dispersing.
Nora stood at the doorway, watching their backs disappear around the corner at the entrance of the alley.
Suddenly, an indescribable emotion welled up in her heart.
She had always thought of herself as an outsider, an “intruder” in this world.
Because of that, she had always subconsciously kept a distance from others, trying hard to play the role of someone rational, calm, and solitary.
She had believed that, during all her years in Diagon Alley, the relationships she maintained were nothing more than equivalent exchanges of “work for payment.” She had never expected that people who usually only nodded to her in passing would secretly come over to worry about her after she changed jobs.
“Looks like I’m not such a failure after all,” Nora murmured with a soft laugh, the corners of her eyes growing slightly warm.
She remembered something Evelyn had once said: “Nora, you’re the type who acts tough but has a soft heart.
You’re guarded around everyone, but once someone genuinely treats you well, you’d be willing to hand them your whole heart.”
Back then, she had refused to admit it, thinking Evelyn was making a fuss over nothing.
But now that she thought about it, perhaps it really was true.
When Madam Malkin gave her clothes, Nora would calculate the shop’s accounts as quickly and accurately as possible, without even a single Knut out of place.
When Florean sent her ice cream while she was sick—even though she thought eating ice cream during an illness was strange—she designed a new ice cream advertisement poster for him, and his business improved for an entire summer.
When Madam Barnes taught her how to identify the age of old books, Nora helped her organize the backlog of old book catalogs that had been piled up in the shop for decades.
She had always thought of it as nothing more than the basic principle of repaying kindness.
But she had failed to realize that, bit by bit, all those small acts had already connected her to this world and to these people in ways she had not even noticed herself.
“No wonder those parents always use me as the ‘other people’s child.'”
Nora shook her head, feeling both helpless and amused.
More than once, she had heard witches in Diagon Alley lecturing their children: “Look at Nora.
She graduated from Hogwarts with top marks, and she’s sensible and capable.
If you were even half as worry-free as she is, I’d be satisfied!”
In the past, she had always found that kind of comparison troublesome.
But now that she thought about it, perhaps it was also a form of recognition.
She turned and went back into the shop, placing the white porcelain bowl inside the “Echo Cabinet” and watching as the cabinet door slowly closed.
Then she walked to the window and pushed it open, letting the damp, fresh air from outside pour in.
The rain had already stopped.
Sunlight pierced through the clouds, casting mottled shadows across the stone road of Diagon Alley.
From afar came the laughter of children and the jingling of shop bells as doors opened, filling the air with the feeling of everyday life.
Nora leaned against the window, watching the people coming and going outside.
The unease that had risen in her because of the “special transactions” seemed to be diluted quite a bit by this warm, ordinary bustle of life.
Perhaps, in this antique shop filled with unknowns, she would not only find a safe place to hide from the war, but also discover something more meaningful than simply “surviving.”
She lowered her head and looked at her hands.
These hands had once held the coarse bread of the orphanage, held textbooks at Hogwarts, held an iron and account books while working part-time.
And now, they held the key to this shop, as well as an unknown future.
“Then I’ll give it a try,” Nora said softly, as if making a promise both to herself and to this ancient shop.