Dawima's vision blurred; he felt as if he had fallen into boundless bliss.
If Harry had to choose the spell he was most skilled in besides the Disarming Charm, it would undoubtedly be the Imperius Curse.
In a time when dark wizards were as common as dogs and rogue hunters roamed freely, being unable to resist the Imperius Curse was practically surrendering to them.
Thus, Cassandra had Harry practice the spell countless times, both of them casting the Imperius Curse on each other and then breaking it with sheer willpower, repeating the exercise to develop resistance.
The Imperius Curse had no adverse effects on the caster; its unforgivable nature lay solely in its ability to compel others to act. Therefore, Harry felt no aversion to it.
Controlling Cassandra to perform the robotic dance was incredibly satisfying. As the saying goes, practice makes perfect.
With enough practice, Harry would eventually be able to cast the Imperius Curse without a wand.
The greatest advantage of wandless magic is immunity to the Reversal Curse.
"Give me your wand," Harry said, extending his hand.
Under the Imperius Curse, Dawima promptly obeyed, taking the wand from his pocket and presenting it with both hands.
Harry took the wand, raised an eyebrow, and looked at Dawima.
"Blackthorn, dragon heartstring, thirty and a half centimeters," Dawima replied respectfully.
Harry carefully put the wand away and ordered again: "Take me to the nearest shop. I need to buy some things—special items not found elsewhere."
"Yes, sir," Dawima bowed and led Harry out of the alley.
A newcomer entering Diagon Alley with such confidence—dark wizards would not let him pass so easily.
However, seeing Dawima walking ahead as his servant, all thoughts of interference vanished. Even Dawima, who had some respect in the area, had fallen from grace; the dark wizards, ever cautious, would not risk offending him.
The journey passed without incident. Dawima brought Harry to a somewhat respectable shop and pushed open the door.
He went to the counter and rang the bell.
While the shopkeeper was still absent, Harry looked around the store.
On a rug in a glass display by the counter lay a desiccated human hand, a deck of blood-stained playing cards, and a lifeless glass eyeball. A grotesque mask peered from the wall, and several human bones were displayed on the counter. Rusted instruments, resembling teeth, hung from the ceiling.
In front of the dried hand was a Pensieve.
Judging by the items on display, the shop sold very disturbing things.
After a while, a man appeared at the counter, hunched over, repeatedly combing his oily hair across his face.
Harry thought this shopkeeper must have a lot in common with Professor Snape.
"Dawima? What brings you here?" Mr. Borgin asked, frowning, clearly not very welcoming.
Dawima gave an obsequious chuckle and introduced Harry: "This… this gentleman wishes to purchase some unique items, so I brought him to you, Mr. Borgin."
Mr. Borgin then noticed Harry following Dawima. Seeing the man's clean, tidy, and impeccable attire, a sense of unease crept into his heart.
"Hello, sir," Mr. Borgin asked hesitantly. "May I know your name?"
Of course, Harry wasn't foolish enough to give his real name; he promptly used his friend's.
"Sebastian."
"Sebastian… what?" Mr. Borgin repeated, wanting the surname.
Harry replied impatiently, "Sebastian… that's none of your business."
"Sorry, everyone has secrets, right?" Mr. Borgin tried to mask his annoyance, speaking as slyly as his hair. "An honor, Mr. Sebastian, welcome. How may I help you?"
"I need some Gag Cabbage seeds, and if possible, I'd like the ones with venomous tendrils," Harry said.
Mr. Borgin let out an "Ah" and said slowly, "It's a pity the seeds for those magical plants cannot be sold at this time—"
So he didn't want to sell them?
Harry said nothing, instead placing five Galleons on the counter.
At the sight of the coins, Mr. Borgin's eyes gleamed with greedy anticipation.
"But at Borgin & Burke, there is nothing you can imagine that we cannot provide," he added.
Harry placed his hand over the five Galleons, and Mr. Borgin understood. He turned and retrieved two cloth pouches from a cabinet.
"These are bitter cabbage seeds and venomous tendrils, though they've been here a while and may need special care," Mr. Borgin said.
Harry tapped the pouches lightly with his wand.
Mr. Borgin's eyebrows furrowed but visibly relaxed seeing Harry's wand touch the pouches.
After confirming they were indeed the seeds he wanted, Harry pocketed the two bags.
"Mr. Borgin?" Harry asked.
"Please, go ahead." Mr. Borgin pocketed the five Galleons happily.
"What is your relationship to Herbert Borgin?" Harry inquired.
"He is my grandfather," Mr. Borgin replied. "You know him?"
Harry smiled. "Of course I know him—I even saw him organizing his house—"
Mr. Borgin looked at Harry's obviously young face beneath the hood, assuming he was bluffing.
But he was a businessman; he didn't argue with anyone. He smiled and said nothing.
Harry knew Mr. Borgin wouldn't believe him, so he shrugged. He had mentioned it casually, without expecting belief.
Carrying his purchases, Harry left Borgin's shop satisfied.
He and Dawima returned to the alley and broke the Imperius Curse.
Dawima looked around blankly at first, then suddenly pointed at Harry, stammering, "You… you… you actually… used the Unforgivable Curse on me…"
"Relax, it's just a harmless spell," Harry said calmly. "It's our little secret; I hope you keep it."
"You… you mean you're letting me go?" Dawima asked cautiously.
"Of course not, I'll just choose a safer path for myself."
Harry drew his wand and pointed at Dawima.
Under Dawima's horrified gaze, his body twisted and contorted, finally transforming into a filamentous caterpillar named Flobber.
But that wasn't all; Harry cast another spell on the caterpillar:
"Obliviate Maxima!"
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