194: Chapter 194 Night Walk in the Overturned Alley

The door knocker cursed in a low voice, "Did you hear me? Not accepted."

Allen Potter stood in the shadows of the foyer, his Black outer robe buttoned to the collar, gloves tucked over his cuffs.

The study light was still on, and a duplicate sat at the desk writing an essay; the quill moved every few seconds, enough to fool the pair of eyes across the street.

The family crest floated on the wall, "Three night observers. One on the east roof, one Witch at the street corner, and one on the second floor of the empty house opposite. Forty-seven minutes until the shift change."

"Retreat anchors?"

"Three in the study, one in the foyer, and one on the edge of the backyard well. There are no records of old anchors in Knockturn Alley; they need to be established on-site."

The door knocker gritted its teeth, "I'll say it again: don't use fire, don't touch the Black wax, don't talk to Mundungus Fletcher, and don't bring any broken chairs from Knockturn Alley back."

Allen Potter pinched a knut between his fingers, "You're more long-winded than Draco."

"At least the Malfoy boy knows how to call for people." The door knocker snorted, "You only know how to sleep."

Allen Potter raised his hand, and a Spatial Thin Layer folded open from the corner of the foyer.

The observers outside saw the study light remaining the same, unable to see the teenager vanishing from inside the old house.

The next moment, the smell of dampness, rotting wood, and low-quality Potion pressed in.

Few people walked in Knockturn Alley late at night.

Shop doors were closed crookedly, a single oil lamp at the end of the alley flickered, and old signs on the walls rattled lightly in the wind.

The noise from the taverns on the main street was reduced to a layer of fragmented clamor by the time it reached here.

Allen Potter stood in the shadow of an eave, first pressing a knut into the stone crack by his feet.

"Anchor one."

Inside the Portable Space, the silver eyes of the Void opened.

The ebony box was quiet; Peter had his hearing restored, but his mouth remained sealed.

He lay against the edge of the cage, watching the outline of Knockturn Alley projected by the space, shrinking himself even smaller than usual.

Allen Potter walked along the wall, avoiding the mud and water on the main path.

Two drunks staggered out from the corner ahead, cursing the exchange rates at Gringotts.

Allen Potter kept the Spatial Thin Layer close to his side; they brushed past him, only shivering, without seeing anyone.

The old furniture shop was at the third intersection.

Two broken chairs hung at the entrance, their backrests half-missing, and the words on the sign were riddled with wormholes, with only fragments like 'Second-hand Repair Shop' recognizable.

There was no light in the door gap, and a layer of dust hung on the lock, yet there were fresh, thin lines on the dusty surface.

Someone had been here recently.

Allen Potter did not enter immediately.

He squatted down to examine the edge of the keyhole.

The scratches were shallow and the technique crude, as if the lock-picker had been in a hurry.

Under the door frame was a speck of tobacco ash, ordinary Muggle tobacco mixed with the scent of cheap Firewhisky.

"Mundungus Fletcher?" The voice of the family crest rang at the edge of his consciousness.

"Not sure."

Peter nodded frantically in the cage, then shook his head, his mouth sealed so he couldn't make a sound.

The tip of the Void's tail pressed down, and he stopped.

Allen Potter used Spatial Displacement to flick the latch open without touching the lock face.

The door opened a crack, the dust inside was pushed away by the airflow, and the smell of old wood and damp cloth drifted out.

The shop was piled with broken tables, legless cabinets, and cracked mirror frames.

There were two sets of footprints on the floor, one old, one relatively new.

The new footprints only went behind the counter, then turned toward the back wall, without rummaging through boxes or cabinets; the objective was clear.

Allen Potter's face darkened.

He did not light a lamp.

The blackthorn wand slid into his palm from his sleeve, a knut fell into the floor crack inside the door, and the second anchor took shape.

The second loose brick on the back wall, four bricks high from the ground.

The brick hadn't been removed, but there were new scratches on the edge.

Someone had tried, but hadn't dared to continue, or hadn't found the way to open it.

Before approaching, Allen Potter used Spatial Perception to scan the wall.

Behind the brick was a fish-skin bag, wrapped in Black wax, with a circle of fine powder scattered nearby.

The corrosive powder was still there, meaning the item hadn't been taken.

The newcomer might have been afraid of the powder, or perhaps didn't have enough time.

He took a thin silver pair of tweezers from his sleeve, the tips wrapped in a Spatial Thin Layer.

The brick was moved out silently, the corrosive powder kept half an inch away as if blocked by invisible glass.

The fish-skin bag was revealed.

Peter pressed himself against the bars of the cage, his eyes turning red.

Allen Potter didn't grab the bag directly.

He first pressed the mouth of the bag with a knut, then folded the surrounding space into a thin wall, separating it along with the powder, brick dust, and the dampness inside the wall.

The fish-skin bag was lifted and fell into a transparent stone tube.

Just as the stone tube was sealed, footsteps came from outside the shop door.

A person stopped at the entrance.

"Who's in there?" A hoarse voice pressed against the door panel, "Old Borgin? Are you back from the dead?"

Allen Potter stood in front of the back wall, his wand didn't move.

The door was pushed open half an inch, and the person outside poked half his face in.

Messy hair, a bulbous nose, an old hat pulled very low, and the smell of tobacco and stolen silverware on him.

He clutched a short wand in one hand and carried a cloth bag in the other.

Mundungus Fletcher.

He squinted into the room, "I smelled someone disturbing the dust.

Don't hide; digging through old walls in Knockturn Alley at night, we're all in the same line of work."

Allen Potter stood within the Spatial Thin Layer, not responding.

Mundungus stepped inside, his toe hitting the edge of the knut inside the door, and he immediately shivered.

He cursed and retreated to the doorway, "Bloody hell, who left cold money?"

Inside the Portable Space, Peter shook so hard he nearly made the bars clatter.

The silver eyes of the Void turned cold, and the sound of the cage was swallowed.

Mundungus didn't dare enter further.

He looked behind the counter and noticed the gap in the back wall was cleaner than before; his expression changed immediately.

"Someone beat me to it?" He cursed under his breath, "I knew that rat didn't die completely."

Allen Potter's gaze paused.

Mundungus knew Peter had hidden things, and he knew about the "rat".

This lead was dirtier than Peter had described.

Patrol footsteps came from the distance outside.

Night patrols rarely came to Knockturn Alley, but someone happened to be approaching tonight.

Mundungus put away his short wand and retreated, grumbling, "I wasn't here, don't tell anyone I was here."

He ran quickly, the cloth bag hitting the wall with a metallic clatter.

Allen Potter did not pursue.

He used the Spatial Thin Layer to restore the back wall to its original state, even offsetting the new and old scratches by a layer, letting those who came later see that someone had moved it, but not whether the item was still there.

He left half the corrosive powder and sealed the other half into the stone tube as a site sample.

The patrol footsteps stopped at the intersection.

Two Ministry of Magic Hit Wizards walked by, complaining that Fudge was making them work overtime to search for Sirius Black's old leads.

One mentioned "Fletcher is in the neighborhood again," and the other cursed, "Those people from the Order of the Phoenix always dump the dirty work on us to finish up."

Allen Potter noted this down.

The Hit Wizards didn't enter the shop and soon left.

Knockturn Alley returned to its damp silence.

Allen Potter stepped back from the Spatial Thin Layer to the door and retrieved the second knut.

The lock returned to its original state, and dust covered half of the footprints.

He took one last look at the broken chair sign, then turned into the shadows at the end of the alley.

"Anchor one, withdraw."

Space folded back to the foyer of Potter Manor.

The duplicate in the study was still writing, and the observers outside hadn't moved.

The family crest immediately closed the inner protection of the foyer.

Seeing him return, the door knocker's first words were to curse: "You brought the smell of Knockturn Alley! Stop, don't dirty the carpet!"

Allen Potter placed the stone tube on the study desk, "Someone has been there."

The door knocker paused, "Who?"

"Mundungus Fletcher. And Ministry of Magic Hit Wizards patrolling."

The family crest's records lit up, "Peripheral risk of the Order of the Phoenix adjusted upward. Risk of the Ministry of Magic old case lead adjusted upward."

Allen Potter changed his outer robe, used a Cleaning Charm on his soles, and sat down at the desk.

The Void pushed Peter's cage half a foot closer and released the Silence spell.

Peter's crying and shouting immediately burst out, "I didn't tell him! I really didn't!

Mundungus only helped me make the bag; he doesn't know about the letters, he doesn't know about the seals.

He might have seen me hiding things, but he doesn't know what they are!"

Allen Potter opened the outer layer of the stone tube, "He said the rat didn't die completely."

The color drained completely from Peter's face.

"He, he's just talking nonsense.

He used to run errands for many people and had heard rumors about Animagus.

People in Knockturn Alley have dirty mouths; they say anything."

The cage pressed inward by an inch.

Peter screamed, "He might know I'm not dead! Maybe!

After the explosion back then, I went to him to trade for an old robe once, not using my face, but stealing things in my rat form; he might have guessed.

But he has no evidence, he only sells information."

"To whom?"

"Whoever pays, he sells to.

The Order of the Phoenix, the Ministry of Magic, former Death Eaters, tavern owners—anyone."

Allen Potter reapplied the Silence spell.

The fish-skin bag was peeled open by the Spatial Thin Layer.

The Black wax hadn't been touched by fire, and the handwriting was better preserved than expected.

Inside were three torn letters, two old seals, and a small, folded code reference sheet.

The damp edges of the paper were yellowed, and some ink was blurred, but a few words were still legible.

"Dumbledore suggests changing."

"Sirius Black voluntarily withdraws."

"Secret-Keeper is too obvious."

"Crouch will not ask again."

Allen Potter sealed each item into three layers of thin walls.

The back of the old seals indeed had remnants of blood-oath powder; it was ineffective but still carried the scent of old Death Eater contact marks.

The code sheet was thirty percent missing, and there was a string of abbreviations in the lower-left corner that matched two from the personnel list Nott had given.

The door knocker whispered, "Sirius Black is innocent."

The family crest didn't answer immediately; after a few seconds, it said, "The chain of evidence is initially formed.

It is still insufficient for public disclosure.

The source of the torn letters needs verification, the seals need comparison, and the code sheet needs to be completed."

Allen Potter looked at the three torn letters, "Enough to make some people sleep poorly."

"Are you going to give them to Sirius Black?" the door knocker asked.

"Not now."

"To Dumbledore?"

"No."

"To the Ministry of Magic?"

Allen Potter raised his eyes, "Do you want to watch them destroy the evidence?"

The door knocker went silent.

Outside the window, the observer on the second floor of the empty house opposite stood up, seemingly noticing the study light flicker.

Allen Potter spread the essay back on the desk, pretending he had just finished a paragraph, and raised his hand to rub his temples.

The person outside sat back down.

The stone tube was stored in the third thin wall layer of the Portable Space, far from the ebony box and the cracked pocket watch.

The tip of the Void's tail pressed a silver mark on the "Old Letters" file.

Peter curled up in the corner of the cage, not even daring to look.

Allen Potter wrote three lines on a new sheet of paper.

Old hiding spot in Knockturn Alley retrieved.

Mundungus Fletcher's level of knowledge is higher than Peter's statement.

Chain of evidence for the Sirius Black case, initially formed, not to be disclosed for now.

After writing, he blew the paper dry and placed it on the top layer of the third-year archives.

A soft sound of response suddenly came from the old sealed area in the direction of the basement.

It wasn't the pocket watch.

It was more like a lock deep within the old house, having heard the words "Secret-Keeper" and "Sirius Black is innocent," finally turning a rusty gear one notch.

Allen Potter looked at the floor, "It's not your turn yet."

The door knocker cursed in the foyer, "Can you stop talking to the door? I'll get jealous."

Allen Potter put down the quill, closed his eyes, and leaned back into the chair.

The observers outside were still there, there was still a lot of the essay left on the desk, but the old letters in the stone tube had already pried open a crack in the Black hole of twelve years ago.

Night pressed against the windows of the old house.

The damp smell of Knockturn Alley was washed away by the Cleaning Charm, but the smell of the old case could not be washed away.