The Moving Teapot and Knockturn Alley

"Hogwarts?"

Harry murmured the name, puzzled.

The flood of information he'd received today was almost too much to process. First, he realized he'd landed in a wizard's house, then got startled by a peculiar doll, and now he was being told he'd attend a new magical school. If Vernon Dursley heard any of this, he'd surely dismiss it with one word:

"Nonsense!"

But here Harry was, sitting beside a wizard who could make objects float.

"What is Hogwarts? Will the acceptance letter be sent to my house?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Probably, but I wouldn't know," Victor replied ambiguously. "I'm a foreign wizard who just arrived here. Don't make it hard on me. Just wait a bit; eventually, a professor from the magical school will come and explain everything to you."

Victor had already finished his oatmeal porridge. After eating, he casually grabbed a handkerchief to wipe his mouth and tossed it toward the nearby washbasin.

As the cloth flew toward it, the porcelain teapot on the basin's ledge suddenly twisted its body. Its saucer base indented in the middle while two edges extended outward like tiny feet, causing it to hop to the side, dodging the incoming handkerchief.

The handkerchief slid down into the sink.

Then the teapot calmly adjusted its "feet," settled back into place, and acted as if nothing had happened.

"Uh...?"

Harry couldn't help but stare at the porcelain teapot.

The teapot was adorned with intricate golden star patterns, yet when Harry looked at it now, it appeared motionless, just like before.

Meanwhile, Victor stood up after finishing his meal and began getting ready to head out.

He first draped a black cloak over his shirt, then donned a pointed hat, its brim shadowing much of his face. Into his pockets, he slipped an antique pocket watch and a silver necklace. He then turned to Baba Yaga and said:

"Yaga Granny, take your time eating. I'll bring something fresh back tonight."

"Alright," the old witch replied, her raspy laugh like the tearing of a windpipe, unnerving and grating. She continued to spoon that strange red solid food into her mouth.

Victor seemed unfazed.

He gestured for Harry to follow. "Come on."

"But that teapot..."

"Don't worry about it," Victor interrupted. "It just likes cleanliness. Don't touch it—especially not with hands you've used for eating. It'll only hit you."

Harry curbed his curiosity, nodding obediently while grappling with the fact that the teapot was both self-moving and fastidious.

In a wizard's house, nothing seemed impossible.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, looking up at Victor expectantly.

"Knockturn Alley," Victor replied.

"That's where the most well-informed wizards gather. They'll definitely know how to navigate the Muggle areas."

"But you Brits are peculiar—you don't even let wizards use magic in front of regular folks. Back where I'm from, some countries have already started posting signs everywhere, marking which forests belong to witches or fairies. Muggles are expected to steer clear," Victor said, adjusting his hat to ensure the brim obscured most of his face.

"Alright, let's go."

"Oh... okay," Harry stammered.

He had hoped to explore the house a bit more and satisfy his growing curiosity about wizards.

Surprisingly, Harry had quickly come to terms with the existence of wizards, and it hadn't been long before he wanted to learn more about them.

But Victor gave him no chance.

"Come here," Victor said, beckoning him.

Harry approached, and Victor placed a hand on his shoulder, guiding him to stand before a full-length mirror in the living room.

The mirror stood near a window, reflecting the gloomy mist outside and the gnarled, leafless branches beyond.

When Harry joined him, their reflections appeared in the mirror. Next to Harry's small and slender frame, Victor seemed imposing. At least six feet tall, dressed in a black cloak and hat, he resembled a medieval figure from legends—a dark wizard who brought plagues and death.

Are we checking our appearances before heading out?

Harry stared at the mirror, baffled.

But apparently, that wasn't the case.

Once Victor settled into place, he addressed their reflections in a low, raspy tone Harry had never heard before—a voice that was unsettling to hear:

"Magic mirror, magic mirror...

Grant me passage to Knockturn Alley."

As he spoke, Harry noticed something strange.

The white roses on a nearby table began changing color, starting from their centers and bleeding outward into a deep crimson until they transformed into red roses entirely.

Then, at the four corners of the mirror, the vintage frame's seams seemed to ooze a liquid—like blood trickling through the carvings.

Before Harry could make sense of it all, Victor suddenly pressed a hand on his shoulder and stepped forward into the mirror.

Harry saw the once-solid surface ripple like water, a cold liquid swallowing him whole and sending a chill through his entire body.

When he opened his eyes again, everything had changed.

The sound of a bell rang sharply in his ears.

"Ding-a-ling!"

Then came the slick voice of an elderly man, hunched and oozing with unctuous charm:

"Welcome, Mr. Van Der Boom. Your visits are always so... unexpected."

The man slicked back his oily hair as he approached at a languid pace.

"Mr. Borgin," Victor greeted him with a brief nod, acknowledging him.

Harry looked around.

They were in an unfamiliar shop.

A damp, wood-scented shop.

The walls were lined with wooden display cabinets filled with objects that matched every eerie wizarding story Harry had ever read. A glass case held a shriveled human hand, a bloodstained deck of cards, and several unmoving eyeballs.

On the walls, grotesque masks hung in abundance—exactly like the ones described in Dracula.

When Harry glanced at the shriveled hand, it seemed to twitch slightly, its long, gray fingers curling faintly as though sensing his gaze.

Harry's heart skipped a beat.

This place perfectly fit the image of a shadowy, sinister wizard's shop.

But after witnessing the peculiarities of Victor's home, Harry found it easier to tolerate his surroundings. He was more curious than frightened.

Truth be told, if he weren't curious, he wouldn't have allowed Victor, a wizard, to drag him around like this.

His compliance had less to do with Victor being an adult and more with his own eagerness to discover these new marvels.

An entire world filled with magic!

Up until now, Harry only vaguely understood the magical world. He knew he was still in England, where there was still a London, but there were also hidden places—like the Ministry of Magic and wizarding settlements.

As he continued exploring the shop with his eyes, Victor had already approached Borgin. With a casual glance at the items around him, Victor turned his gaze back to Borgin and said, with apparent indifference:

"Borgin, I'm here to sell something."

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