Harry Potter: Bring fairytales to Hogwarts

When Borgin heard the words "sell something," he was not surprised. On the contrary, his face lit up with excitement, the wrinkles on his face scrunching together, a stark contrast to the expression he wore earlier when entertaining Mr. Malfoy.

He bent low in a deep bow.

"Sell something, of course... Mr. Van der Boom, this way, please. As I've mentioned before, it is always an honor to accept your collections."

Borgin respectfully led them, turning toward the counter.

On the way, Harry glanced back and noticed that the place they had emerged from was another tall, ancient-looking mirror. Unlike the one at Victor's house, this one didn't reflect any faces—just a dull, foggy gray surface.

At the counter, Borgin noticed Harry gazing at the mirror.

"Ah, the Mirror of Solmar!" Borgin eagerly explained. "Crafted by the alchemist Solmar himself, this mirror can sense the fear of those who stand before it and record those emotions. Stare long enough, and it reveals flashbacks tied to that same fear—a thief or a robber would be utterly exposed in its presence."

He glanced at Victor, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"I still remember the first time you emerged from it. Scared me half to death—I thought it was cursed! Its functionality has certainly evolved since then..."

He leaned closer. "Would you consider taking this mirror with you? It's excellent for warding off intruders."

"No need," Victor replied flatly, striding toward the counter.

"My own mirror doesn't take kindly to competition. It could cause... incidents."

Incidents? What kind of incidents?

Victor offered no further explanation.

Meanwhile, Harry curiously approached the mirror Borgin had described, noticing intricate red patterns around its frame—patterns that resembled dried blood.

"Magic mirror…" Harry muttered, brushing a hand over its surface, recalling the phrase Victor had used earlier.

Just as his fingers touched it, the murky gray surface seemed to shift, and a faint silhouette appeared within the fog. It was as though someone was standing on the other side, watching him intently.

Startled, Harry took a step back, trying to discern who it might be.

The silhouette's skin looked pale and gray—strangely unnatural.

"Hey, kid."

"Ah?" Harry turned abruptly.

Victor had called out to him, standing by the counter. His dark, hollow eyes peered out from under his hat's brim, fixated on Harry.

"Come here. Don't mess with the mirror."

"Oh… okay."

Harry hesitantly stepped away from the mirror and toward Victor.

Victor didn't offer an explanation, only ensuring that Harry was no longer focused on the mirror. Then, reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a necklace.

It was the same necklace he had taken before leaving Baba Yaga's house—a rough cord with a worn, golden nautilus shell that glowed faintly in the dim shop.

Victor placed it on the counter and slid it toward Borgin.

"Sell this," he said.

"It contains the voice of a mermaid. Wear it, and your words will transform into an enchanting melody capable of mesmerizing others and making them forget what's happening around them. It can only be used three times."

"A mermaid's voice?" Borgin adjusted his pince-nez glasses and scrutinized the nautilus. "So, it only works underwater? Mermaid songs on land turn into shrieks, don't they?"

Mermaid songs become shrieks?

Harry hadn't heard that before.

"Not this kind of mermaid," Victor finally replied. "Test it for yourself. I have a few of these left—experimental pieces from a friend."

"I'll use professional instruments to verify it, Mr. Van der Boom, but this may take a day or two," Borgin said with a slight bow. "However, I'm willing to pay part of the price upfront, as I trust your reputation."

"If it's another artifact resistant to magical detection, it could easily fetch 100 Galleons—no, 120 per piece. The final price will depend on how long the enchanting effect lasts—one Galleon per second. Does that sound agreeable?"

"Fine," Victor replied with a nod.

Satisfied, Borgin began rummaging behind the counter. Yet, even as he busied himself, his eyes darted toward Victor, his mind clearly preoccupied with something else.

Borgin leaned closer, his voice low and conspiratorial.

"Have you reconsidered selling the mirror magic itself? Not the spell, but even a single-use alchemical item. There are plenty of pure-blood customers willing to pay handsomely. With the recent crackdown—look at the Malfoys—"

"Not interested," Victor interrupted coldly.

"Understood."

Recognizing Victor's reluctance, Borgin wisely dropped the topic, retreating to continue his task. Eventually, he pulled out a bronze scale.

He placed the nautilus necklace on one side, with a peculiar dried eyeball floating in a jar on the other. As he weighed it, Borgin's darting eyes seemed to hatch new schemes.

Then, Borgin's gaze locked with Harry's.

Initially dismissive of Harry, assuming him to be an ordinary Muggle, Borgin's attitude shifted upon noticing the boy's striking green eyes.

A stunned silence filled the room.

Borgin's eyes bulged as recognition dawned.

"You're Harry Potter?!"

"You know me?" Harry asked, confused.

But Borgin wasn't listening. His wide eyes stayed glued to Harry, and he took two shaky steps forward, reaching out a trembling hand as though to touch the lightning-shaped scar on Harry's forehead.

Harry instinctively stepped back, avoiding the touch.

Borgin quickly withdrew his hand, bowing deeply.

"My apologies, Mr. Potter. How rude of me. Please accept my most sincere apologies."

Borgin's nose nearly grazed his knees as he bowed, his tone dripping with flattery.

As he straightened, he muttered to himself, awe and trepidation mixing in his voice:

"Harry Potter, the famous Harry Potter himself… appearing in my shop. What a shocking and troublesome event this is."

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