Chapter 187: The Attack
When the hunched wizard grinned, Harry caught sight of a blood-streaked feather stuck between his teeth.
"I—I was trying to get to Diagon Alley," Harry swallowed hard. "I'm sorry… could you tell me how to get there?"
"I see…" the man nodded.
As he moved, he accidentally knocked over a bottle of bone-ink on the counter. Black ink spilled out—endlessly spreading, swallowing the entire tabletop like a living thing.
Harry's face paled. As he stepped back, he knocked over a clay jar. Dark red liquid splashed onto his robes, then began creeping upward like it had a will of its own.
He was just about to scream—
The hunched wizard flicked his wand.
Silence.
Harry's mouth snapped shut against his will.
"A customer's arrived," the man said lightly. "As for you… you'll stay put for a while."
In the next instant, Harry felt his body being crushed and twisted by an invisible force—
The world spun—
And he was stuffed into the clay jar.
From within the darkness, he could hear faint, skittering noises near the shop entrance—like hundreds of insects gnawing at wood.
He couldn't see anything.
All he could do… was wait.
The shop door creaked open.
A sweep of black robes brushed against the hanging bell, and a serpent-headed cane tapped rhythmically against the floor.
Lucius Malfoy had arrived.
"Long time no see, Chuck," he drawled. "This time, I'm handling some old items for Bellatrix Lestrange."
His tone stretched lazily, almost smug.
"She's… otherwise occupied at the moment."
Chuck let out a rasping chuckle, flipping open a hidden panel in the counter to reveal a scale.
"'Otherwise occupied'? Or stuck in Azkaban and can't come out—so she sent you instead?"
"Hmph. You know perfectly well," Lucius lifted his pale chin. "One day, she'll be out."
"Is that so? Only if the Dark Lord rises again. And I doubt you'd really want that."
Lucius paused—
"…You're right," he admitted curtly.
"Relax," he continued. "This piece is worth the risk."
He unfurled a silk cloth embroidered with counter-curses.
Inside lay a mirror.
Chuck picked it up with a pair of tongs.
Suddenly—
Black mist burst from the mirror, coiling into a two-headed serpent midair. The heads tore at each other before collapsing back into the glass.
Lucius slammed his cane onto the ground.
"This is a Lestrange family heirloom," he said coldly. "You should recognize it."
"A Medusa's head is sealed inside."
"Anyone who looks into it… turns to stone."
He paused.
"One price."
"Ten thousand Galleons."
"An heirloom?" Chuck murmured, eyes gleaming.
Chuck suddenly flipped up the monocle over his left eye—revealing an empty socket.
Inside it, a grotesque magical creature curled and writhed, its body covered in festering sores. Twelve compound eyes blinked as it studied the mirror.
"Someone came in last year selling something similar," he said slowly. "Claimed it could devour souls…"
He paused deliberately, watching Lucius Malfoy's knuckles turn white around his serpent-headed cane.
"Lucius… is this urgency because Sirius walked out of Azkaban?"
A sudden gust of hot wind burst from Lucius's wand.
"I don't want to hear his name."
"How about… one thousand Galleons?" Chuck bargained casually.
The cane stabbed straight through the counter—wood splintering everywhere.
"One thousand?" Lucius's voice turned icy. "Are you mocking me—or insulting me?"
Just as his pale face flushed with anger—
A deafening crash erupted from upstairs.
Hundreds of books spilled through an iron mesh, cascading down. The chains embossed on their covers began to writhe unnaturally.
"…Seems today isn't a good day for business," Chuck muttered, pressing a moss-covered cloth over Lucius's hand.
"As for the mirror—you'd better take it back."
Lucius gave a cold snort and turned to leave, clutching the mirror.
If Borgin and Burkes hadn't been closed recently, he would never have come here.
"You can come out now, boy."
At Chuck's voice, Harry suddenly felt the force binding him vanish.
He scrambled out of the clay jar, gasping for air.
"Harry is in the 'Nest of Worms.'"
Wednesday spoke calmly, cleaning her wand.
At her feet, the malicious old witch lay writhing in pain.
Wednesday kicked her aside without hesitation.
At that moment—
From the shadows around the alley, four or five black-robed figures emerged, their presence dripping with hostility.
"Hermione—wand up. Protect yourself."
Hermione tightened her grip as Wednesday cast a Shield Charm.
(Protego.)
Russell had drilled it into her before—now, it finally proved its worth.
The leading dark wizard raised his wand.
The brick walls twisted violently, forming stone tentacles that slammed down toward Hermione.
Wednesday yanked her back, her wand carving a silver arc.
"Reducto!"
The spell blasted the tentacles apart—
But another wizard fired three venomous spikes.
Midair, they split into a storm of needles.
"Protego!"
A shimmering barrier deflected them—embedding the needles into nearby shelves. Glass jars shattered, releasing green, corrosive slime that hissed against the ground.
Another wizard struck—
Black, barbed vines erupted from cracks in the ground, coiling around Hermione's ankles.
She panicked—but held firm.
"Incendio!"
Flames surged along the vines, racing back toward the caster. He severed the spell in time, but the charred remains crumbled into ash.
"Reducto!"
Two crimson blasts shot toward them at impossible angles.
Wednesday slammed Hermione's head down just in time—
The spells missed by inches.
Seizing the opening—
"Stupefy!"
Two rapid Stunning Spells dropped a pair of attackers instantly.
At the far end, a hidden wizard stepped forward—
Summoning three shadowy ravens.
They shrieked and dove, their talons dripping corrosive sludge.
Wednesday shoved Hermione aside, her wand tracing a circle.
"Expulso!"
A whirlwind of debris formed a shield.
The ravens shattered on impact—only to reform as three massive serpents within the black mist.
This was planned, Wednesday realized.
Her wand flared again.
"Glacius!"
The first serpent froze solid—
"Diffindo!"
The ice shattered, fragments piercing through the other two.
But the fight wasn't over.
The previously repelled wizards regrouped.
Together, they transformed the alley's drainage channel into a boiling stream of toxic liquid—dark purple and bubbling as it surged toward the girls.