Chapter 84: Lofty

Lofty is truly a fine fellow—he even treated me to a meal and gave me 135 Galleons for free; Silven hasn’t met such a good-hearted… such an easy mark in a long time.

No, it should be 130 Galleons—Silven never exaggerated; that so-called legendary golden wizard sticker really did use gold powder… the cost of fifty sheets was roughly five Galleons.

But Lofty has money; he probably won’t mind his admirer making a small profit on the markup.

Silven continued toward the wand shop, inevitably passing again by the entrance to Knockturn Alley.

Same time, same place.

Knockturn Alley was quiet, deep, devoid of any light, the entire alleyway like a crouching beast, jaws wide open, waiting for lost prey.

But today Silven had no intention of venturing inside; he walked straight past.

He’d been watching this place for days, but nothing happened—no chaos, no Death Eaters, no Aurors checking things out.

Old Borgin kept his promise.

The six Death Eaters killed that night vanished like stones dropped into an abyss, leaving not a ripple.

Speaking of Death Eaters, Silven suddenly remembered the transfiguring lizard he’d taken as spoils.

That thing had been bait for the trap; now that he’d dismantled the whole setup, it would be a waste not to retrieve the bait.

But Silven took only that one item; though Old Borgin offered him free choice of spoils, Silven looked around and found nothing else of value—everything else was dubious in origin—so he honored his earlier promise and gave it all to Old Borgin.

Old Borgin was delighted and took full charge of the cleanup.

No wonder he was a native of Knockturn Alley—his professional skills were impeccable.

…

The next day, Silven arrived at Flourish and Blotts before noon to deliver the stickers he’d made overnight.

He also received the full set of signed books Lofty had promised, along with the first signed copy of *My Magical Self*.

Flourish and Blotts wouldn’t officially sell the autobiography until two hours later, alongside the signing event, but Lofty didn’t care—he handed them out right away with the other books.

The full set, of course, included every volume: *My Magical Self*, *Gilderoy Lockhart’s Guide to Ridding Your Home of Pests*, and *How to Dance Elegant with a Veela*.

Lofty must have known these two books had nothing to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts, which was why he didn’t shamelessly include them as textbooks.

Before leaving, Silven asked Lofty to write an extra note on *My Magical Self*, certifying it as the first officially sold autobiography.

Because of the good impression left yesterday, Lofty agreed without hesitation.

Silven planned to sell it later at a high price; given Lofty’s current popularity, someone would surely pay for such a commemorative collector’s edition.

When Silven returned to the wand shop, a long winding queue had already formed outside; Garrick watched him enter behind the counter with an odd expression.

“What’s wrong?” Silven asked.

“They’re all here for you,” Garrick said, his tone complicated.

The old wandmaker, who’d enjoyed decades of quiet, never imagined his shop would have back-to-back days of long queues.

And the large sack of silver Sickles beneath the counter made him feel it wasn’t real.

The money he’d made selling wands these two days probably didn’t equal this much—even if Garrick didn’t care much for profit, he couldn’t remain unmoved.

Were these little stickers and trinkets really this popular? Wasn’t this overblown?

Hmm…

It really was overblown.

If Garrick had paid closer attention, he’d have noticed many familiar faces in the queue.

These were the professional queue-line workers Silven had hired through Old Tom at the Leaky Cauldron—five Sickles per day.

Not much, but Old Tom found him plenty; the Leaky Cauldron was full of penniless drunks, and five silver Sickles bought five large mugs of malt whiskey—easy work, so many were happy to take it.

Tom himself was glad to help, because the money those workers earned always appeared in the Leaky Cauldron’s cash box the next day.

The long queue attracted even more genuine customers; everyone was satisfied—except that this trick worked best only on the first day.

There were only so many wizards in Diagon Alley, and even fewer interested in wand decorations; by afternoon, though the line remained long, Silven could clearly sense fewer real buyers.

Most people came in, glanced around, and left.

This was only because they were riding the wave of Lofty’s signing event; otherwise, there might have been hardly anyone by morning.

“Oh, finally you’re here,” came a familiar voice.

“Unbelievable—when did this wand shop become so popular?”

“Did we miss something? Wand stickers?”

Fred and George crowded up to Silven, grinning.

“Long time no see, Silven.”

“We came by once before—this shop was locked then.”

“I was away on a trip,” Silven said. “So you came here specifically to find me?”

“Of course… not,” Fred said.

“We’re here to buy Ginny her new wand,” George stepped aside, revealing a red-haired little witch behind him.

“Ginny Weasley—our youngest sister.”

“A first-year at Hogwarts this year.”

“Mom wanted to bring her herself.”

“But we volunteered to handle it.”

“And we figured we’d take a look at your new… wand stickers,” Fred paused. “That’s what they’re called, right?”

“And the dye sprays and maintenance kits,” Silven said, for the umpteenth time.

People couldn’t pretend those two items didn’t exist just because they were expensive.

Still, Silven had no intention of lowering prices—after all, the contrast made the stickers seem like better value, so people would spend more freely.

“Silven, hurry up and show us the stuff.”

Under the Weasley brothers’ urging, Silven pulled out the full set of Magical Creatures stickers and began chatting with them from behind the counter.

The Weasley brothers talked at length, emphasizing how they rescued Harry from his aunt and uncle’s house.

“You can’t imagine what Harry went through.”

George made an exaggerated face. “They didn’t feed him.”

“Luckily we got word in time.”

“Brought him to the Burrow.”

“We came to Diagon Alley together today.”

“But Harry miscalled the fireplace and ended up in Knockturn Alley.”

“Why didn’t we think of that?” George slapped his leg in frustration. “If we’d miscalled the fireplace too, we could’ve gone to Knockturn Alley openly.”

“Fred!” Ginny, testing wands, turned around immediately, frowning. “Mum forbids us from going near there—you’re not even thinking about it.”

“I’m George, Ginny,” George said. “And I don’t think Knockturn Alley’s that dangerous—Harry said he didn’t meet anyone strange, just that the stuff sold there wasn’t friendly.”

“Dad said he was lucky to meet Hagrid,” Ginny glared. “And Harry didn’t go there on purpose—he didn’t want to!”

“Ah, maybe,” Fred said, noncommittal.

…

(End of Chapter)