December 27, 1992.

Just after Christmas, Oxford Street in London’s West End was bustling with people, heaps of Muggles dressed in brand new clothes filling the streets. Children laughed and played, while young people meeting up exchanged sincere New Year wishes. Each person harbored a longing for a better life, and even the swirling snow could not extinguish the smiles on their faces.

For wizards, Christmas is also the most important holiday of the year, but the way wizarding families celebrate it is completely different from that of Muggles.

They prefer to stay indoors, warm and cozy, listening to the crackling of the fire in the fireplace, sitting under a Christmas tree adorned with silver frost and mistletoe, discussing Quidditch or the latest news.

Thus, Knockturn Alley, as the wizarding commercial center, always feels especially desolate during the New Year, not to mention the already sparsely populated Knockturn Alley.

Clang, clang, clack!

Amosta, hidden beneath a large black cloak, stepped down from a small cart similar to those used at Gringotts. Even though his stomach was churning, he could only maintain an air of nonchalance to uphold his indifferent persona.

The air was thick with the stench of fermented slug slime soaked in rotting frog entrails. The uneven ground was damp, and a row of inverted torches floated neatly in midair, casting a ghostly green light that illuminated the vast, fan-shaped underground cavern in a haunting manner.

Amosta's gaze wandered. Two hundred feet to his left, in the "pet" market, a fifteen-foot tall ogre, its limbs securely bound by chains as thick as a soup bowl, slumped to the ground, nearly blending into the dark rock wall.

Its owner, a toothless old witch from Moldova, brought it here hoping to sell the ogre for a good price so she could use the money to treat her dragon pox.

Sadly, it had been for sale for two years with no interest.

At that moment, the old witch leaned against the ogre's toe, cursing a large group of house-elves nearby for polluting the environment.

These were a group of house-elves who had lost their masters and gained their freedom.

Of course, using the term “freedom” to describe the elves is akin to calling centaurs “beasts,” and they certainly do not feel grateful.

Most of these poor little creatures once belonged to small wizarding families or obscure magical factions, their masters having vanished over time for various reasons, leading to the elves being forced into freedom.

Not having a master is a terrifying situation for house-elves, as it almost strips away their value of existence. Thus, the little creatures gather here in hopes of finding a new master.

To be honest, aside from a few dark wizards who need live specimens for curse experiments and potion effects, generally, no one pays them any mind.

The ogre, however, was quite friendly towards the elves. Amosta had once witnessed the starving ogre slap several house-elves to death in a frenzied hunger and gulp them down with delight.

Besides the ogres and house-elves, the "pet" market, which smelled akin to a toilet, showcased many other interesting creatures, such as centaurs stripped of their herd's protection, the coveted Niffler, vampires locked in cages, and Irish leprechauns, all excellent specimens for living material.

Basically, unless it was particularly taboo magical creatures like dragons and unicorns, one could find almost all existing magical animals in the underground pet market.

The trading market under the rock wall on the right still retained its rudimentary medieval European style, but the items sold on the makeshift stalls scattered across the ground were anything but simple.

There were tomes of dark magic originating from ancient Greece, potions that greatly enhanced magical power with unclear side effects, and alchemical items capable of instantly erasing life on a large scale. In short, compared to those things, the products sold in Borgin and Burkes could only be considered prank products favored by young wizards; the Devil’s Snare here was only good for decorative potted plants.

Amosta had even seen a wizard from Italy selling the curse that had wiped out Europe during the Black Death. The seller claimed that the curse was weakened, but if it spread, it wouldn't be difficult to wipe out an entire city of Muggles.

Of course, the price of that curse matched its effects; otherwise, Amosta would have genuinely considered buying it for research.

And this is the dark side of the magical world, a true land of no return.

After a while, feeling somewhat better, Amosta took a step forward toward the center of the cavern, gradually merging into the sparse crowd.

Most of the people here wore black robes, hoping not to reveal their true identities.

Only a few reckless lunatics and the odd wizard passing through England dared to show themselves in front of the Ministry of Magic's surveillance personnel.

Yes, you heard that right.

The underground world of Knockturn Alley is monitored by a secret contingent of Aurors, but their presence is merely to ensure that nothing "out of line" occurs, rather than to eradicate, unless the Ministry of Magic intends to go to war with all the remaining ancient faction wizards and dark wizards in England.

At the center of the cavern, a square area surrounded by low granite walls is the underground world’s commission market. One end of the courtyard features a tall signboard, on which dozens of glowing red magical contracts are posted, quietly waiting for someone to take them down.

Amosta stood under the sign, scanned the area, found no valuable commissions, and turned to find a stone bench to sit on while waiting for a trading partner to arrive.

Perhaps due to the New Year, there weren't many people here either; in the vast area, only two people were whispering about ten feet to his right.

One of them, an old wizard dressed in a brown linen robe, with a bald head covered in pustules and sores, looked to be around eighty years old. Upon hearing the noise, he glanced at Amosta.

Seemingly disdainful of Amosta’s attempt to conceal his true form beneath a swirling vortex of distorted magic, he revealed a mouth with only a few yellow teeth, hissing out a foul breath. His face was a grotesque sight, half as charred as burnt tree bark and the other half covered in soft, fleshy growths that squirmed like tentacles.

However, when the old wizard noticed the golden snake embroidered on Amosta’s collar, he quickly restrained his nauseating smile, politely nodded, and returned his gaze.

Amosta, however, found the old wizard's interesting face a bit intriguing.

If he guessed correctly, the old wizard had suffered damage from a failed magic spell meant to sever souls while making a Horcrux, resulting in severe magical backlash.

As far as Amosta knew, there was only one thing that could slow the spread of such magical damage, and the conversation between the two confirmed his suspicion.

“It’s very difficult and very dangerous. You should know where in all of England one can find a unicorn!”

The old wizard’s skinny counterpart pulled a glass cup from beneath his black robe, the silvery liquid inside gleaming strikingly in the dim underground world. He spoke cautiously.

The old wizard understood what that meant, and he let out a sharp cold laugh, also pulling out a fist-sized piece of mithril and tossing it onto the table,

“Of course, of course, even here, not many people are willing to invite Dumbledore’s bad luck. I’ve been waiting for this for a while; you’re quite bold, and I admire that—”

Trading in the underground world was usually straightforward, with little room for haggling; if negotiations truly fell through, one could simply eliminate the other party.

Amosta watched the old wizard with great interest as he took the glass cup, sniffed it carefully, and then tipped it into his mouth, his face revealing a hint of amusement in the blurred shadows.

Here, one must mention that due to the shortcomings of traditional magical education, faction wizards often excel in one area but can be as ignorant as a novice apprentice in another. Modern magical education, based in schools, is unlikely to produce any extraordinary talents, but at least it provides balance.

Balanced knowledge is very important.

At the very least, in the current trade, any qualified student with O.W.L.s from Hogwarts would not be fooled by a potion that had been transfigured and had two unicorn feathers added.

P.S. Please save, recommend, and thank you!