Troubles of Old Borgin

"Are you Borgin?" Mu En looked at the man in the shadows.

The man nodded and walked out of the alley. He first bowed slightly to Mu En. "Sir, please believe me, I never expected Mundungus to resort to blackmail at first.

I'm looking for you because I want your help. However, this isn't a suitable place to talk. If you don't mind, could we move to my shop?"

Mu En surveyed his surroundings and nodded.

After receiving Mu En's permission, Borgin also drew his wand and pointed it at Mundungus. "Let's go."

Mundungus looked like he was about to cry. He could only hastily support himself against the wall as he climbed up, whimpering and nodding repeatedly.

Borgin's shop was diagonally across the street from where they were standing, not far from the alley entrance. The wall color was a bit mismatched, and about a third of the house had clearly been recently repaired.

Upon entering, one could see the full view of the shop. It was spacious and dim, with several candles hanging on the walls, burning continuously and releasing a calming smoke.

Mu En also noticed that the newly repaired wall had some empty space, clearly not yet filled with enough merchandise.

"That's the aftermath of the indiscriminate curse you cast earlier," Borgin explained.

However, his tone held no anger about the incident; he was merely stating the facts calmly to Mu En.

Borgin didn't want to dwell on it. He considered himself lucky that only some of the items displayed in the showroom were swept away by that terrifying curse.

Those items weren't particularly valuable, so the loss wasn't significant.

The shop next door, which specialized in making various poisonous candles, had its entire establishment destroyed, and the owner had barely escaped with his life. That was a significant loss.

"So, what did you want to talk to me about? I'm on a tight schedule," Mu En said, looking at Borgin's merchandise with interest.

Beside them, in a glass case, lay a shriveled human hand and a stack of blood-stained playing cards. Frightening masks glared down from the walls, and various human bones were displayed on the counter, with rusty, pointed instruments hanging from the ceiling.

These goods were clearly not "friendly," and you wouldn't find them in Diagon Alley.

Mu En picked up the blood-stained playing cards and spread them out. It was a deck of Tarot cards, with the backs decorated with star charts drawn in gold and silver.

"Please wait a moment," Borgin said. He stood in front of Mundungus and, under the man's fearful gaze, drew his wand and placed it against Mundungus's temple.

"Memory Separation!!"

A low incantation echoed, and a faint silver light bloomed at the tip of Borgin's wand. Mundungus's expression suddenly became vacant and lifeless.

Then, Borgin slowly withdrew his wand, a strand of silver thread being pulled out with it.

He took out a small vial, which shimmered with flowing light, clearly already containing many such silver threads.

After Borgin placed the silver thread extracted from Mundungus into the vial, he patted the man's face.

Mundungus's face suddenly regained some color, and he looked at the person before him in surprise. "Borgin... sir, why am I here?!"

"You can go now," Borgin clearly didn't want to say anything more to him.

Mundungus's head felt dizzy, and he hadn't fully regained consciousness. But at this moment, as if under a spell, he nodded blankly, then turned and left.

Mu En leaned against the counter, a little curious. "Memory spells?"

Borgin froze for a moment. He hadn't expected the person who could escape the Killing Curse to ask such a question.

Was this even reasonable??

He raised the vial and showed it to Mu En. "This contains the memories of all the witnesses from that day regarding you."

"Are you going to use this to threaten me?" Mu En asked, fanning the cards with one hand and looking curiously at Borgin.

Borgin immediately shook his head, a hint of a merchant's fawning appearing on his face. "No, no, no, I think you've misunderstood. This is a gift."

"A gift?" Mu En looked at him.

"Yes," Borgin nodded.

"So these are the memories of the bystanders from that time, and you extracted them all before the Ministry of Magic arrived?" Mu En examined the memory vial.

"It's just that the Ministry of Magic's incompetent fools were too slow, which gave me an opportunity. It wasn't that difficult," Borgin said with his head lowered, not daring to be presumptuous.

Mu En drew a Tarot card and turned it over.

[XVIII]

[The Moon]

"I'm not a genie who grants wishes," Mu En said, looking at The Moon card and spreading it on the table. Then he looked at the Minor Arcana cards.

"I just want to seek some help from you," Borgin said quickly.

Mu En laid out the cards one by one, drawing them.

However, he didn't rush to turn them over, waiting for Borgin to continue.

Borgin watched Mu En's actions, nervously scratching his wrinkled face. "I think you can tell that I'm a small merchant who deals with dark magic on a long-term basis.

Many years ago, I was cursed at a soul level after accidentally touching an ancient dark magic artifact. Since you can withstand the Killing Curse, you must understand souls very well, so..."

Mu En slowly turned over the card, his hand gripping a long sword.

[Ace of Swords]

Borgin's expression turned solemn. This card usually represented misfortune and death.

"It seems I'm quite lucky," Mu En said with a smile.

He then put away the cards and said, "The meanings of Tarot cards are ever-changing, and everyone understands and forms their own meanings based on their own methods of meditation, association, and deduction."

Mu En's words made Borgin even more nervous. This indicated that the man had a very profound understanding of divination.

"So my interpretations of Tarot are usually quite blunt. In normal circumstances, if I say luck, it will definitely be luck.

If I say misfortune, then I will definitely make it misfortune."

After speaking, meeting Borgin's gaze, Mu En raised the Moon card again.

"I think something happy will happen today, don't you think?!"

"Of course!!" Borgin broke out in a cold sweat and quickly bowed, saying, "As long as you are willing to help me, even just a little guidance, I am willing to pay a generous reward."

"Tell me about your curse," Mu En said, sensing the aura around Borgin, feeling a sense of familiarity.

It felt like he had encountered something similar in the Caribbean Sea...

Then, Borgin began to explain the curse he had encountered.

It was an item he had repossessed over forty years ago from someone from a fallen French family. It was said that the item was acquired when the family decided to relocate in response to the newly enacted regulations of the Wizarding Secrecy Act.

At that time, Grindelwald had only recently fallen, and the entire wizarding world was extremely wary of the Wizarding Secrecy Act, with severe penalties for violations. No one wanted to court disaster.

Later, at their temporary settlement, a small island in the English Channel, they clashed with the local merfolk tribe over the island's lake.

This also, to some extent, violated the local magical creature protection treaty. So, at that time, the family, to avoid investigation, smuggled all the items seized from the merfolk tribe to him.

The curse appeared then.

Because of an ancient golden disc pendant, Borgin was cursed and became a living dead person unable to perceive physical sensations, unable to even die, as severed limbs could be easily reattached...

Mu En was flipping through an ancient Greek magical manuscript that Borgin collected. As he listened to Borgin's narration, the feeling of familiarity grew.

"And doesn't it turn into a skeleton under the moonlight??" Mu En suddenly interrupted him.

Borgin looked at Mu En in shock, his face gradually shifting from disbelief to uncontrollable excitement.

"That's right, you know! You know my curse!!"

Mu En was also somewhat surprised. This curse...

Yes, he knew it, and knew it even better.

He had even actively sought out contact with this curse when he was in the Caribbean Sea, driven by his strong curiosity about magic.

Ding-a-ling—

The bell behind the shop door suddenly rang.

A man with a pale, pointed face, long golden hair falling straight back towards the nape of his head, wearing a black woolen coat, entered, leaning on a walking stick.

He raised his head, his cold gray eyes looking Mu En up and down, and then said, "Mr. Borgin, it seems you are a bit busy?!"