Tewell paid no mind, and wandered around the shop by himself.
Devis and Bance could be said to be the most famous alchemists in the British magical world. Of course, they rarely identified themselves as such; most people simply thought of them as the proprietors of a prop shop.
Indeed, their shop was relatively small in scale, specializing in practical magical items. In terms of renown, they were far overshadowed by playful establishments like the Bouncing Banshee Joke Shop and Zonko's Joke Shop.
If it weren't for the Fawley family records detailing the Devis family's story and knowing about their legitimate alchemical heritage, Tewell wouldn't have chosen to come here.
On the other side of the shop were Quidditch supplies. Apart from the repair scissors, he also saw some peculiar Snitches. His knowledge of Quidditch all came from Viktor Krum, but he knew these Snitches didn't come in these styles.
Some had wings like dragon spines, some Snitches were simply in the form of birds, and there were even square-shaped Snitches.
Curiously, he picked up the bird-shaped one. It seemed to come to life in his hand, flapping its wings faintly and fluttering a bit, but it couldn't take off.
It was like a remote-controlled plane with dead batteries.
"These are experimental Snitches from previous generations of my ancestors," Devis explained. "But obviously, they weren't adopted."
Devis and Bance's discussion ended, with Bance tidying up the merchandise in the shop while Devis approached Tewell.
"Customer, I need to know your identity," Devis indicated the badge in his hand. "To produce these kinds of items on a large scale, besides the Ministry of Magic, I can't think of any legitimate organization that would need them. The Anti-Dark Arts Alliance, perhaps?"
Tewell knew what he was referring to—the Anti-Dark Arts Alliance, an organization against dark magic. However, in reality, members rarely had close contact with each other; it was more like a loose alliance. But the wizards within did indeed have means of identifying dark magic, and Tewell had no intention of provoking them.
"Allow me to introduce myself," Tewell bowed to Devis. "Tewell Fawley, Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts. These items are for my students."
"Ah," Devis drew in a sharp breath.
"Are you the new professor from Durmstrang?"
"Oh?" Tewell was somewhat surprised. "You know me?"
Devis suddenly felt a stiffness in his body, but it only lasted for a moment.
"Of course," he couldn't help but flash a somewhat flattering smile. "The Fawley family's reputation is well-known to us, and besides, Hagrid often joins us for drinks and cards."
Tewell shrugged casually.
"In that case, can you handle this batch of badges?"
He understood Devis's concerns; if these badges were used by an illegitimate organization for illicit activities in the magical world, they would certainly face criticism. Concerns from the side of justice were always a bit more prominent. If it was the Knockturn Alley crowd, as long as they had the money, they could get anything done.
"If it's you, then of course, there's no problem. How many do you need to make?" Devis respectfully handed back the badge.
The Fawley family had produced a Minister for Magic, and it just so happened that Tewell's grandfather was that minister, albeit with a somewhat failed political career, lasting only ten years before stepping down. But it was still a prominent pure-blood family.
Tewell estimated it; there were eighty students in one year, so for three years, that would be two hundred and forty badges. Although the first year wouldn't need them yet, early preparation wouldn't hurt.
"I'll need two hundred and forty badges. You can provide them in three installments, giving me eighty each time."
A big deal indeed!
Devis's eyes lit up instantly.
As for whether Tewell could afford it?
You underestimated the resources of a pure-blood family if you doubted it. Even if they were as poor as the Weasley family, their ancestors had been wealthy.
"I do need some time for production. According to the schedule, the first batch will take about two months, but it'll be faster once we get the hang of it," Devis said excitedly.
That meant it would be November, even earlier than Tewell's teaching plan.
He simply nodded in agreement.
After discussing some details, Tewell left eighty Galleons behind and departed.
One Galleon each, totaling two hundred and forty Galleons.
Not expensive, just two months' salary for Tewell, indeed quite cheap for him.
And it was a way to get acquainted with Devis and Bance, these two alchemists.
The largest alchemy research center in the world is in Egypt, so most alchemists are there. The only ones available in Britain are these two brothers.
Borgin of Knockturn Alley was also considered a decent alchemist, but he wasn't up to par.
Back on the street, there were far fewer pedestrians in the village, and most shops were preparing to close.
Compared to the rich nightlife of Muggles, wizards could be considered dull.
In the increasingly progressive world of Muggle technology, wizard society seemed to have hit a standstill button. Apart from the regular newspapers, there was little else for entertainment except for occasional music.
That was the state of the magical world.
Stagnant!
Tewell hadn't planned to linger here, but he spotted a familiar figure on the street.
Quirinus Quirrell.
His distinctive large scarf was covered by a large hood, his face hidden in shadow, only his chin visible.
But the smell of Voldemort emanating from him, even across the street, was detectable by Tewell.
This evil aura, Tewell was all too familiar with it.
He took out a ready-made black cloak from his wallet and covered his face, imitating the style.
A small tip: whether you're a dark wizard, a white wizard, or somewhere in between, learning some techniques to hide your appearance is the first step in integrating into society.
Tewell could also use human transfiguration, subtly altering his appearance, a skill his teacher excelled at. But there was no need for it now.
Following Quirrell, Tewell trailed behind the two individuals into this rundown bar.
The Hog's Head Inn.
It was a narrow, quaint little bar.
So narrow that with just around ten people inside, it felt as crowded as if there were hundreds;
So quaint that the windows were caked with grime, as if they had accumulated dirt for centuries, barely letting any light through.
The same grime was present on the tables, chairs, and floor.
And here, concealing one's face was the norm, apart from those like Hagrid who couldn't quite manage it, everyone else wore hoods or veils.
So when Tewell entered, he didn't attract any attention.
Only the indifferent bartender of the Hog's Head Inn walked over, not exactly treating him like a customer, more like addressing a nuisance:
"What'll it be?"