December 27, 1992.
Christmas had just passed, and Oxford Street in London's West End was bustling with people. Muggles in brand new clothes thronged the streets. Children laughed and played, while young people meeting up exchanged heartfelt New Year greetings. Everyone held onto their hopes for a better life, and even the heavy snowfall couldn't dampen the smiles on their faces.
For wizards, Christmas is also one of the most important holidays of the year, but the way wizard families celebrate Christmas is entirely different from that of Muggles.
They prefer to stay indoors, listening to the crackling of flames in the fireplace, sitting under a Christmas tree adorned with silver frost and mistletoe, discussing Quidditch or the latest news.
Therefore, Diagon Alley, the commercial centre for wizards, always seems particularly desolate during the New Year, not to mention Knockturn Alley, which is usually sparsely populated even on regular days.
Clang, clang, clack!
Amorsta, hidden under a large black cloak, stepped off a cart identical to those in Gringotts. Despite his churning stomach, he maintained a nonchalant demeanour to preserve his aloof persona.
The air was filled with the rancid smell of rotting frog guts soaked in fermented flobberworm mucus. The uneven ground was damp, and rows of inverted torches hovered in midair, their eerie green flames casting an otherworldly glow over the vast, fan-shaped underground cavern, making it look as sinister as a haunted house.
Amorsta's gaze roamed around. Two hundred feet to his left, in the 'pet' market, a fifteen-foot-tall troll, bound tightly by chains as thick as a wrist, lay listlessly on the ground, almost blending into the dark rocky walls.
Its owner, an old witch with a toothless grin from Moldova, hoped to sell the troll for a good price so she could afford treatment for her dragon pox sores. Unfortunately, it had been two years, and there were still no takers.
At that moment, the old witch was leaning against the troll's toes, cursing a large group of house elves nearby for polluting the environment.
These were house elves who had lost their masters and were now free.
Of course, using the term 'free' to describe house elves was akin to using the term 'beast' to describe centaurs; it wouldn't elicit gratitude.
These poor creatures mostly belonged to small wizard families or obscure magical factions whose owners had disappeared for various reasons, forcing the house elves into unwanted freedom.
Being without a master was a terrifying prospect for house elves, as it stripped them of their purpose. So, they gathered here, hoping to find new masters.
To be honest, apart from some dark wizards who needed live subjects to test spells and potions, few people paid them any attention.
The troll, however, was quite friendly towards the house elves. Amorsta had once seen the starving troll swat several house elves to death and then eat them with great relish.
In addition to the troll and the house elves, the pet market, which smelled like a toilet, was home to many other interesting creatures, such as centaurs who had lost their herds, captured Veelas (a hot commodity), vampires locked in cages, and Irish leprechauns, which made for excellent live subjects.
Basically, except for highly taboo magical creatures like dragons and unicorns, you could find most of the magical creatures existing in the wizarding world at the underground pet market.
To his right, the trading market under the rocky wall still retained the crude style of medieval Europe. However, the items sold on those randomly placed stalls were far from simple.
Books filled with dark magic from ancient Greece, potions that significantly boost magical power but have obscure side effects, and alchemical items capable of instantaneously annihilating large numbers of lives—in short, compared to these, the items sold at Borgin and Burkes are mere prank products favoured by young wizards, and Devil's Snare here is nothing more than a decorative potted plant.
Amorsta had even seen, in the possession of an Italian wizard, a cursed seed responsible for the Black Death that once ravaged all of Europe. According to the wizard selling it, the curse had been weakened, but if it spread, it could still wipe out a city of Muggles without much trouble.
Of course, the cursed seed came with a price matching its devastating power. Otherwise, Amorsta would have bought it to study.
This is the dark side of the wizarding world, a true lawless land.
After a while, feeling somewhat better, Amorsta began to walk toward the centre of the cavern, gradually blending into the sparse crowd.
Most people here wore black robes, unwilling to reveal their true faces. Only a few reckless lunatics and wizards passing through Britain dared to show themselves in front of infiltrators from the Ministry.
Yes, you heard right.
The underground world of Knockturn Alley had Aurors secretly stationed here, but their presence was only to monitor for anything excessively out of line, not to eradicate it. Unless the Ministry wanted to go to war with all the ancient factions and dark wizards still existing in Britain.
The centre of the cavern was a square area enclosed by low granite walls, serving as the underground world's commission market. At one end of the wall stood a tall notice board made of snakewood, covered with hundreds of commission papers glowing with the red light of magical contracts, waiting for someone to take them down.
Amorsta scanned the board but found nothing of value, so he turned around and sat on a stone bench, waiting for his trading partner to arrive.
Perhaps due to the upcoming New Year, the place was also rather empty. In the large area, only two people were whispering ten feet to his right.
One of them, an old wizard wearing a brown burlap robe, had a bald head covered in sores and boils, making him look like he was eighty years old. Upon hearing movement, he looked up at Amorsta.
Seemingly disdainful of Amorsta's choice to hide his true face behind a twisted magical vortex, the old wizard bared his yellowing teeth, spewing a foul stench as he sneered. His face was half charred like burnt wood, while the other half was covered in pink, tentacle-like, wriggling growths, making him look incredibly grotesque.
However, when the old wizard noticed the gold snake embroidered on Amorsta's collar, he quickly restrained his disgusting smile, politely nodded, and looked away.
Amorsta found the old wizard's interesting face intriguing.
If his guess was correct, that should be damage caused by a failed attempt to cast the spell for creating a Horcrux, leading to a severe magical backlash.
As far as Amorsta knew, there was only one thing that could temporarily halt the spread of such spell damage, and the following conversation confirmed his suspicion.
"It's very hard to get and very dangerous. You should know that in all of Britain, there's only one place to find unicorns!"
The wizard opposite the old man, as thin as a bamboo pole, carefully took out a glass cup from his black robe. The silver liquid inside gleamed brightly in the dim underground, and he said cautiously.
The old wizard understood the implication, let out a sharp laugh, and also took out a piece of mithril the size of a fist, tossing it onto the table.
"Of course, of course. Even here, not many are willing to risk crossing Dumbledore. I've been waiting for this for a while. You have guts, I admire that—"
Transactions in the underground world are always straightforward, rarely involving bargaining. If there's a disagreement, just eliminate the other party.
Amorsta watched the old wizard with interest. Seeing him take the glass, sniff it carefully, and then pour it into his mouth, a faint smile appeared on Amorsta's face behind the distorted magical blur.
There's one thing worth mentioning here:
Due to the flaws in traditional magical education, wizards from various factions are often extremely proficient in one aspect but frighteningly ignorant in another, much like an apprentice just starting to learn magic. In contrast, modern magical education through schools might not produce any spectacularly talented individuals, but at least it ensures a balanced knowledge base.
Balanced knowledge is incredibly important.
At least for this transaction, even a Hogwarts O.W.L.s level student wouldn't be fooled by a Confusing Concoction disguised with a Transfiguration spell and two unicorn feathers.