Chapter Thirteen: The Junk Shop

“No!” Professor McGonagall shook her head. Looking into Roger’s tear-filled large eyes, her tone softened. “Alright, Mr. Roger. Before leaving Diagon Alley, you will keep your wand with you.”

“Understood, Professor McGonagall!” Roger nodded quickly in agreement.

He didn’t argue with Professor McGonagall, nor did he question the legitimacy of the old magical laws. Since she wanted to inspect the wand and its origins, he would temporarily lend it to her.

Professor McGonagall nodded with satisfaction. “Very good. With the wand issue settled, we still need to purchase the first-year textbooks, potion supplies, and astronomy equipment. Of course, young witches and wizards may bring a pet to Hogwarts.”

“That’s wonderful! I want to bring an owl,” Roger said eagerly, his eyes shining with anticipation. “That way, I can write letters to my mother even while at school.”

Professor McGonagall smiled warmly. “Owls are an excellent choice. They help students keep in touch with their families. You will find they are loyal and reliable, one of the best friends a wizard can have.”

Next to Ollivanders wand shop was a secondhand store called “The Nasty Nook,” filled with old items—broken chairs, battered wands, worn textbooks, robes, and even magical pets.

“Roger, you can buy brand-new textbooks and tools at Flourish and Blotts and the Potage Shoppe in Diagon Alley, but they are quite expensive. You might want to consider this secondhand shop. Though the items are somewhat used, they are much more affordable,” Professor McGonagall suggested, gesturing toward the shop, waiting for Roger to make his choice.

Roger had heard about the price of Western textbooks in his previous life. Brand-new textbooks were incredibly costly, with a semester’s worth totaling thousands of dollars. In such an environment, the secondhand textbook market flourished, even spawning businesses dedicated to photocopying.

“It seems the wizarding world is no different. No wonder Harry and Hermione shop here,” Roger thought. If he remembered correctly, Harry had inherited a substantial fortune, and Hermione came from a middle-class Muggle family—yet they still felt financial pressure when it came to studying.

He touched his pouch of money. It was now 1991, and the Soviet 819 incident was looming. He hoped to make some money by leveraging this, maybe siphoning some from the financial sharks in London’s City.

The Ministry of Magic was still negotiating their compensation, which would take a long time to arrive. Bureaucracies were the same in every world and country: they would delay as long as possible. Better to save money and leave a good impression on Professor McGonagall.

“Professor McGonagall, I’d like to check out the secondhand shop first,” Roger said cautiously. “Maybe I can find some affordable, well-kept used textbooks and supplies.”

***

Professor McGonagall didn’t know what Roger was thinking, but seeing his prudent thriftiness, she nodded approvingly. “Your consideration is very responsible. Looking for suitable study materials at a secondhand shop is also a valuable exercise. Let’s go have a look at The Nasty Nook.”

The shop owner was an elderly wizard with shock-white hair that looked as if it had been wrecked by fireworks. His cloudy gray-blue eyes scanned the shop anxiously, as if fearing someone might steal his old wares.

Though not particularly friendly in appearance, he was quite hospitable to customers. Upon seeing Professor McGonagall, he hurriedly greeted her, “Professor McGonagall, long time no see.”

“Hello, Elwin. I’ve brought a new student to look around. Do you have books and supplies suitable for first-years?” Professor McGonagall looked at the owner. She had a deep impression of this old fellow, whose personality matched his name—Stingy and fussy.

“Of course! High-quality used goods! I guarantee they’re just like new, and very reasonably priced!” Elwin quickly began pulling various old books and equipment from the shelves.

“This ‘Introduction to Transfiguration’ is only two Sickles. The cover is a bit worn, but the pages are intact,” he said, pointing to the pages. “Clear handwriting, complete illustrations, perfect for beginners. Plus, there are notes from the previous owner—between you and me, she was a witch.”

“Cough, cough,” Professor McGonagall shot Elwin a sharp look. The old man’s shamelessness was growing.

“This cauldron I’m selling for only five Knuts. Though it’s blackened by gunpowder, the size is just right. The bottom and wall thickness are even,” he said, tapping the cauldron. “Sounds solid, doesn’t it? Absolutely worth the price!”

“These slightly older quills and parchment, I can give you a discount on. Look, this ink bottle is still half full,” Elwin pulled out several quills and a dozen sheets of parchment. “The whole set is just ten Knuts—guaranteed to be a bargain!”

“Want a school robe? I have some secondhand ones here. I can give you a twenty percent discount—all in good condition.” He took down a few black robes from the shelf and dusted them off. “See? The fabric is sturdy, no tears.”

…

Elwin prattled on about the used goods, while Roger stood silently, unable to interject. Before he knew it, piles of books, various cauldrons, and old clothes had accumulated at his feet.

“Here are some used wands, all inspected by me and in good condition. You can pick one. I guarantee they’re no worse than any from Ollivanders—after all, most are made by Ollivander anyway,” Elwin said confidently.

A container full of old wands was placed on the counter in front of Roger. He stood there, overwhelmed and unsure. He wanted to speak, but Elwin’s ceaseless chatter made it impossible to get a word in.

Faced with the mountain of used goods and Elwin’s persistent sales pitch, Roger found himself at a loss.

Professor McGonagall watched Roger’s discomfort with interest. From the moment she met him, the boy had given her an impression of steadiness, behaving more maturely than his peers. But now, facing the old wizard Elwin, she finally saw the childlike innocence beneath his surface.

“Roger, although Elwin’s shop is a mess, it does hide many treasures. Take your time choosing some useful secondhand items,” Professor McGonagall advised. “Don’t be overwhelmed by his enthusiasm. Carefully check the quality of the goods and consider your own needs. There’s no need to buy everything.”

Elwin, overhearing Professor McGonagall’s words, was initially pleased but then blushed deeply as she shifted her tone.

He felt that Professor McGonagall was warning the young wizard not to waste money in his shop. Confronted with her, Elwin forced a strained smile.

“Elwin tends to list everything at once. You need to learn to be selective and find the study supplies that truly suit you. But his prices are indeed very cheap…”

Suddenly, a loud explosion erupted from the direction of Gringotts, shaking the entire Diagon Alley.

“What’s happening?”

Wizards poured out to look toward Gringotts, where a plume of black smoke was rising. Professor McGonagall noticed that the goblins had already cast a counter-Disapparition spell. Clearly, something very serious had occurred.