Reborn at Hogwarts

The deeper you go, the darker the darkness becomes.

After walking in the suffocating silence for an unknown amount of time, Ivan suddenly had a strange feeling. As he gradually deepened, the darkness in all directions seemed to be gradually rushing towards him.

This feeling quickly became more intense, and the air seemed to be thinner with it. The sound of panting and footsteps echoed in his ears, and Ivan felt as if he had entered a narrow corridor, and every inch of land he passed behind was blocked by people. He could only continue forward, but the road ahead was slowing down. And firm shrinkage...

Finally, when a trace of panic rose in Ivan's heart uncontrollably, there was a sudden light in front of him, and the boy instinctively narrowed his eyes. Before he could get used to the sudden light, the familiar darkness had receded like a tide, and his feet landed in a dirty alley.

A dirty wooden sign hung on a tree that looked half dead not far away, with suspicious red writing on it: Knockturn Alley.

The fear brought about by the dark compression has not subsided, Ivan forced himself to calm down, and looked around silently.

Compared with the crowded and noisy Diagon Alley, this place is obviously much deserted, and the atmosphere is also inexplicably depressing. Perhaps it was still early and most of the dark wizards who had worked hard all night hadn't gotten up yet. Apart from a big gray dog ​​napping on the street corner, the alley was empty and there was no one there.

The possibility that this dog is an Animagus in disguise cannot be ruled out... Though thinking this way, Ivan still relaxed somewhat. He collected himself, took two steps forward, and then looked back to where he came from.

There was nothing there except a gray-black stone wall, and there was no door to enter or exit at all, as if Ivan had just drilled out of the wall.

Ivan thought for a while, then raised his wand and walked towards the stone wall. Just after he took two steps, his vision was suddenly in a trance. A dilapidated wooden door suddenly appeared on the wall, and inside the door was a familiar darkness.

Ivan took another two steps back, and the wooden door disappeared without a sound.

Everything is normal, you can go out from here... But there is no need to leave here later, I haven't bought the textbooks for the next semester, I have to go to Diagon Alley to do some shopping.

Thinking of this, Ivan reached into the pocket hanging around his neck and began to grope, while looking left and right, and quickly walked towards a deserted fork.

He needed a little more camouflage before he officially started to move.

...

"Borgin-Bock, the best choice for the dark arts."

At seven o'clock in the morning, Mr. Bork opened the door of the store and placed the signboard in the most conspicuous position at the door.

Then, he very cautiously stuffed a withered human hand under the signboard, fiddled with it for ten minutes, and then hid it in an inconspicuous and ingenious position, and fixed it well by the way.

"Now let me see if you damn guys dare to take my signboard." He muttered softly, as if he was very satisfied with his arrangement, he couldn't help laughing, revealing two rows of moss-growing yellow teeth.

After admiring his masterpiece, Mr. Bork turned around, and slowly went back to the back of the counter, brought a stool and sat on it.

He looked happily at his spacious storefront, and his eyes swept over the strangely shaped black magic props on the shelves one by one.

"Yeah, how can there be more good things in the whole Knockturn Alley than this store?" He smiled triumphantly, muttering, "No wonder those idiots don't steal other people's stores—ah, welcome!"

Mr. Bork stood up, and with his movements, a strand of greasy long hair hung down from the top of his shiny head and hung around his ear.

He looked at the open shop door, and a guy wrapped in a robe walked in slowly. This is the first guest today. After the crackdown by the Ministry of Magic last year, Borgin-Bock's business has been sluggish. Although it has improved recently, Mr. Bock still maintains the good habit of that time: cherish every moment. guests.

The blunt smile hadn't fully burst out yet, and after seeing the guest's head, it completely froze on his face.

The customer who walked into the store wrapped himself tightly in a black wizard robe, even wearing a pair of gloves obviously made of dragon skin.

This is not a big deal. As the owner of a shop whose business is related to black magic, Mr. Bork has seen many such people. The face is revealed to the public.

But this guest...

His head was the only one not covered by the black robe.

However, he covered his head with a large circular fish tank, which was filled with thick gray mist formed by magic, completely covering his face while revealing a pair of blue eyes for observing external conditions.

A man in black with a fishbowl on his head...

"Uh... Excuse me..." Mr. Bok, who has taken over the store from his father for decades, looked at the customer with disgust mixed with horror for the first time, and he hesitated to speak.

"Oh, hello," said the guest, his voice muffled from the fishbowl, "Mr. Bock, is it?"

"Yes, I'm Bock..." Mr. Bock replied, "With all due respect, your outfit—"

"What's wrong with my dress?" The guest shook his head.

"No, no, it's nothing, it's very good, it's very distinctive..." Mr. Bork keenly sensed a trace of displeasure in the guest's tone, and quickly put on a smile, "May I ask what you want?"

"I need to buy something." The customer said, he staggered and tried to walk to the counter, but just took two steps, he staggered, and the whole person fell forward, but he stabilized himself at the last moment shape, stopped before falling.

"..." Mr. Bork glanced at the precious black magic item that was within reach beside the guest, feeling regretful in his heart.

Didn't break this thing when it fell... almost opened...

"Ahem..." After almost falling to the ground, the customer seemed to have a long memory, looked down at the road under his feet, and walked slowly to the counter.

Looking closely at the eyes protruding from the gray fog and the fish tank, Mr. Bork took great effort to swallow the laughter that almost jumped to his throat.

He looked at the guest, suppressed his smile, and asked with a straight face, "Excuse me, what should I call you?"

"Oh, me?" The guest helped the fish tank, "Just call me Quentin Baker."

O.O