Chương 23: Chapter 23: Hog's Head
Tver didn't mind and leisurely strolled around the shop.
Dervish and Banges could be said to be the most famous alchemists in the British wizarding world. However, they seldom identified themselves as such, and most people simply regarded them as the proprietors of a prop shop.
It made sense since their shop, with its small scale, primarily sold practical magical props. In terms of popularity, it was far overshadowed by shops like Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop and Zonko's Joke Shop, which were more focused on entertainment.
If it weren't for the Fawley family records detailing the Devises' family history and their legitimate alchemical lineage, Tver wouldn't have chosen to come here.
The other half of the shop was devoted to Quidditch props. Apart from the usual repairing scissors, he also saw some peculiar Snitches.
His knowledge of Quidditch came solely from Viktor Krum, but he knew that Snitches didn't come in these varieties.
Some had wings resembling dragon spines, some were shaped like small birds, and there were even square Snitches.
Curiously, he picked up the one shaped like a bird. It seemed to come alive in his hand, flapping its wings slightly, but it couldn't fly no matter what he tried.
It was like a remote-controlled plane with dead batteries.
"This is an experimental Snitch from the past, made by I-don't-know-how-many generations of my ancestors personally. But as you can see, it was never adopted," Dervish explained.
As their discussion concluded, Banges began tidying up the merchandise while Dervish approached Tver.
"Sir, I need to know your identity," Dervish gestured to the badge in his hand, "mass-producing this kind of prop... Apart from the Ministry of Magic, I can't think of any legitimate organization that would need this. The Dark Force Defense League?"
Tver knew of the Dark Force Defense League that Dervish mentioned. It was an anti-Dark Arts organization, but in reality, members rarely had close contact with each other. It was more like a loose alliance.
He wouldn't go out of his way to provoke them since the wizards in there indeed had some means of identifying Dark Arts.
"Allow me to introduce myself," Tver bowed slightly to Dervish, "Tver Fawley, Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. These props are for my students."
"Ah..."
Dervish took a deep breath.
"You're the new professor at Durmstrang?"
"Oh?" Tver was somewhat surprised. "You know me?"
Dervish suddenly felt a bit stiff, but it only lasted a moment.
"Of course," he couldn't help but show a somewhat flattering smile. "The Fawley family's reputation is well known to us. Besides, Hagrid often drinks and plays cards with us."
Tver shrugged casually. "Well then, can you make these badges?"
He understood Dervish's concerns. If these badges were used by an illegitimate organization for illicit activities in the wizarding world, they would surely face criticism.
Those on the side of justice always had more concerns. If it were the people from Knockturn Alley, as long as they could pay, they could get anything.
"If it's you, then of course, there's no problem. So, how many do you need?" Dervish respectfully handed the badge back.
The Fawley family had produced a Minister for Magic, who happened to be Tver's grandfather. However, he had a somewhat unsuccessful political career, only serving for ten years before stepping down. Nevertheless, it was still a prestigious pure-blood family.
Tver estimated there were eighty students in one year group, so for three year groups, he'd need two hundred and forty badges. Though the first years wouldn't need them yet, it wouldn't hurt to have them ready in advance.
"I'll need two hundred and forty badges. You can provide them in three installments, giving me eighty each time," Tver said.
That was a big order!
Dervish's eyes immediately lit up.
As for whether Tver could afford it? You'd be underestimating the wealth of a pure-blood family, even one as poor as the Weasleys. Their ancestors had been wealthy.
"I do need some time to produce them. The first batch will take about two months, but I'll be quicker once I get into the rhythm," Dervish said excitedly.
That meant it would be ready by November, earlier than Tver's teaching schedule.
He readily agreed.
After discussing some more details, Tver left eighty Galleons on the counter and departed.
One Galleon each, totaling two hundred and forty Galleons.
Not expensive, just about two months' salary for Tver, so it was quite affordable.
And it meant he had made connections with Dervish and Banges, the two alchemists.
The world's largest alchemy research center is in Egypt, so most alchemists are there. The only ones you can find in Britain are these two brothers.
Borgin & Burkes in Knockturn Alley had a decent alchemist, but Tver wasn't interested in him.
Back on the main street, there were fewer pedestrians in the village, and most of the shops were getting ready to close.
Compared to the rich nightlife of Muggles, wizards could be considered dull.
In today's world, where Muggle technology is advancing rapidly, the wizarding society seems to have hit the pause button. Besides the usual newspapers and periodicals, there was little entertainment, with music being a rare treat.
That was the current state of the magical world.
Backward!
Tver hadn't planned to linger here, but he saw a familiar figure on the street.
Quirinus Quirrell.
His trademark large scarf was covered by a huge hood, and his face was hidden in the shadows, with only his chin visible. But that stench of Voldemort reached Tver even across the street.
Tver took out a black robe from his wallet, a precaution he always carried, and covered his face.
A small tip: Whether you're a dark wizard, a white wizard, or something in between, learning some techniques to hide your appearance is the first step in navigating society.
Tver could also use human transfiguration to subtly alter his appearance, a skill taught by his teacher. But there was no need for that now.
Following Quirrell, Tver trailed behind the two men into the dilapidated pub.
The Hog's Head.
It was a narrow, quaint little pub. So narrow that with just about ten people inside, it felt as crowded as if there were a hundred;
So quaint that the windows were covered in grime, as if it had accumulated over centuries, making it almost impossible for the light to filter through.
The same grime covered the tables, chairs, and floor. And here, hiding one's face was a normal occurrence, except for someone like Hagrid, who couldn't hide his identity. Most people wore hoods or veils.
So when Tver entered, he didn't attract any attention.
Only the bartender of the Hog's Head Inn walked over indifferently, more like addressing a nuisance than a customer, and asked: "What'll it be?"
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