Chapter 77: The Trap in Knockturn Alley

Silven and Garrick left the Romanian Dragon Reserve at five in the afternoon, and a few minutes later they appeared in a room at the Ministry of Magic.

That's the one annoying thing about official Portkeys — every time you return to Britain, you have to come through the Ministry first.

Romania doesn't have such a tedious rule; when they went there, they appeared right at the gate of the reserve.

"Five-oh-three, arriving from the Romanian Dragon Reserve," a voice said.

"Good afternoon, Basil," Garrick said familiarly; he used Portkeys often and was long since used to it.

And when the Ministry clerk saw that the arrivals were Garrick Ollivander, he didn't even bother to ask questions and let them straight through.

"Lucky it wasn't Lambert, or we'd have had to wait at least ten minutes before we could leave." Garrick looked very pleased, clearly quite satisfied with the haul from this trip to the Dragon Reserve.

It was also the first time Silven had learned that, when his grandfather wanted top-quality dragon heartstrings and heart nerves from the reserve, he too had to "fight" for them.

This time, with Dumbledore's help, he had clearly "snatched" quite a lot from his fellow travellers; by his account, Gregorovitch and Akayol left with faces green as grass, looking very unhappy.

The two came out of the room, crossed the bustling Ministry atrium, and used the Ministry's fireplace to return to the Leaky Cauldron.

After that Garrick once again locked himself in his room, and Silven did the same, only occasionally going to sit for a while in the Leaky Cauldron.

Although the wizard in the cowboy hat hadn't shown up again for several days, the place never lacked drunks who, once they'd had a few too many, started bragging and talking big — everyone could always find fresh amusement.

They waited until late July, when owls began appearing one after another in the skies over London.

One evening, as the sky was gradually darkening, Silven came out of the Leaky Cauldron as usual, and on passing Knockturn Alley he turned his head to glance in, out of habit.

"Mm?"

That one glance made Silven stop in his tracks on instinct, his eyes fixed on what an old witch was holding in her hand.

It was a desiccated lizard — nothing remarkable about that; whether in potions or magic, the creature was everywhere. Even in some African wizarding tribes, desiccated lizards had more uses and were even used as currency.

But this lizard was different — its whole body was translucent, as if made of crystal, and stood out strikingly in the dim surroundings.

Silven's feet carried him inside without his being able to stop them, just as before.

When he got closer, Silven saw it even more clearly: on the back of that crystal-like desiccated lizard there were natural Runic patterns, different on the left and right.

A Runic-patterned colour-changing lizard, or "shapeshifting lizard" for short — not rare among magical beasts, but extremely hard to catch.

This lizard possessed the uncanny ability to change its appearance with its surroundings; its colour, form and even build could blend perfectly into the environment.

One second it might be an unremarkable stone, the next a withered leaf, sometimes even disguised as a discarded old lightbulb — you could never guess what shape it would take next.

If someone wanted to catch one, the only way was to cast a wide-area detection spell across the forest where it might appear, sweeping every inch of ground indiscriminately, like casting a net.

If lucky, one might come across one or two before having to walk the entire forest.

Knockturn Alley truly lived up to its name as the magical black market — apart from legal goods, you could find anything here… The way the shapeshifting lizard had been handled was clearly the North American style; only they would straighten out the tail as well.

In other words, the thing was smuggled in.

But wasn't this old witch a poisoner before? Every day she was either holding fingernails or cradling a skull — when had she suddenly taken to smuggling?

"How much?" Silven frowned and asked bluntly.

"Five hundred Galleons," the witch said with a grin, showing teeth that were black and green.

Combined with her straw-like, withered hair and her robe — so dirty and old you couldn't tell its colour — the look fit the muggle fairy-tale image of witches who peddled poisoned apples and frog soup wholesale.

Especially after dark, even Silven felt a chill run down his back looking at her.

"Too expensive." He stepped back imperceptibly. "The thing's price is a hundred Galleons — even in Knockturn Alley it's not that dear."

"No haggling," the witch said in a sinister tone, "but you can go talk to the seller yourself — they should be only too happy to."

As she finished, she suddenly let out a strange cackle.

"Tap, tap, tap…"

The sound of footsteps suddenly coming from behind made Silven realise at once that something was wrong, but just as he turned to leave Knockturn Alley, he froze stiff on the spot — at some point, two dark shadows had appeared behind him.

He turned again, and three more dark shadows emerged from deep within Knockturn Alley; together with the old witch, that made six people in all.

Silven knew he had walked into a trap — that shapeshifting lizard had been the bait to lure him over.

But why?

"You've got the wrong person, haven't you?" Silven forced himself to stay calm. "I'm just an ordinary Hogwarts student."

"You're not ordinary at all, Silven Ollivander." One of the dark shadows stepped forward, his rasping voice seeming to come from very far away.

His whole body was shrouded beneath a wide black hood; the moonlight falling on him seemed to be swallowed, so that even his outline was blurred.

But what he said made Silven's heart sink.

They had come for him.

There was no reason — he wasn't Harry Potter, just an unremarkable wandmaker…

"I get it — you're after my wand." Silven seemed to have suddenly thought of something, his tone certain. "For Ollivanders Wand Shop!"

The leader's footsteps faltered for a moment, then he adopted a tone of amused interest.

"How did you know?"

He admitted it, without any attempt at concealment.

"I guessed," Silven shrugged.

"No rush — we can talk as we walk." The man drew his wand and gestured for Silven to head deeper into Knockturn Alley.

Silven could only comply, and explained as they went:

"Knowing my name, and knowing that I occasionally come to Knockturn Alley — clearly someone went to the trouble of asking around. And that lady…"

Silven pointed at the textbook evil old witch on his left. "She was here about a month ago, taking the place of a little stall I often visited. The stallholder never showed up again after that… you killed him, didn't you."

Without waiting for an answer, Silven went on: "You must have learned from him that I'm interested in magical beasts, so a month later, when I happened to pass by, there was the shapeshifting lizard waiting for me."

Silven analysed away to himself, and at this point a great many things that had nagged at him suddenly fell into place.

No wonder he had always felt there were more unfamiliar faces in Knockturn Alley lately, and no wonder a rare thing like a shapeshifting lizard hadn't been snapped up by someone else at first sight.

……

(End of chapter)