Written For:

QLFC Season 6, Round 7, Kenmare Kestrels, Chaser 1, Prompt: Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle (2003), Extra Prompts: 1 (object) letter, 2 (location) Knockturn Alley, 8 (quote) "It's the honest ones you want to watch out for".

The Houses Competition, Gryffindor, Year 3, Standard, Prompt: Silver, Theme: Love Conquers All

Word Count: 1061

Part 1: The First Letter

Morgan Tatterings considered himself to be a highly fortunate man.

For starters, he had a business left to him by a distant uncle - a certain Caractacus Burke, who had made himself an enemy of Potter and his band and gotten himself killed off in the war. And while the business might not have been what some might call respectable, his pockets were always filled with silver sickles and golden galleons, and his table was always full.

More importantly, he had a lovely wife, who thought the world of him and was more than happy to go to fancy balls and galas to charm his clientele.

And most importantly, he had a son, Logan. A son who he cherished and adored, and who he was certain would someday make an even better businessman than his father.

"Boy!"

As he barked, his son bounded over. Though barely eight, he wore proper wizard robes. Though the robes weren't ornate - it wouldn't do for their customers to think the family was putting on airs - they were well pressed, and the deep crimson contrasted well with his son's dark hair.

"Yes, father?"

Morgan reached into his pocket, extracting a pipe and a letter. He handed the letter to the boy, and lit the pipe. "Read it, boy!"

"Dear Mr. Tatterings," Logan read, but softly, since even Muffliato wasn't foolproof. It was beyond the hour that anyone would visit his shop, but Knockturn Alley in the evening was known for…

...for other dealings. For shady characters around corners. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Frances De La Ware. My wife and I fled France for America during the war, and shortly after our estate was burned, and several family heirlooms stolen. Among the missing were two silver wedding bands. You must understand these these wedding bands are off special significance to the family - they were my grandmothers, and I had hoped to pass them on to a daughter of my own someday."

Logan took a breath, and Morgan took the opportunity to take another puff. "Go on, boy!"

"Recently, a contact of mine noticed wedding bands very similar to his memories of my wedding bands at Borgin and Burkes. I believe the store has come into your possession. You understand that I would very much like these wedding bands returned to my family. I am of course willing to compensate you as much as is fair for your trouble.

"Sincerely, Frances and Eliza De La Ware."

Morgan scowled, and took another puff. "You have me worried here, boy. Not a threat, or anything."

Logan stared, clearly confused.

"A man who threatens me is a man I can work with." Morgan flicked his wand to vanish the letter. "Hear this boy, and hear it well. It's the honest ones you want to watch out for."

Part 2: The Half-Read Letter

They read letters together in the store every night. It was something they had done for years, but from then on it adopted a certain regularity - a father/son ritual.

Morgan's wife never joined them. She had never much cared for the store, preferring to admire the successes of her husband from afar, her imaginings unsullied by the reality of his dirty business.

"Boy!"

Logan looked up from behind the register, where he'd been mixing counterfeit Sickles in with the regular supply. "Yes, father?"

"Letters!"

The first few were usual business. A thief asked about a new Hand of Glory; a vampire for a Garl'-O'-Scope; an ex-Death Eater for the latest Mark Concealer. Morgan overcharged all three, making sure to squeeze the last one extra - he had access to a rich family vault, and had reason for desperation.

Then, they go to the De La Ware affair.

"Dear Mr. Tatterings,

"As instructed, I have deposited the agreed-upon galleons as a token of my good intentions. I do hope our business can be concluded soon. To my wife and I, the bands hold great sentimental value…"

But Morgan had stopped paying attention.

Each letter was the same. We love the bands. Please give us the bands. More money for the bands!

It hardly surprised him. With a name like De La Ware...likely rich, born and bred, and now poor and stupid. He didn't sympathize. It was men like him who had ridden in carriages and turned up their noises at people like Tatterings before the war, and men like him he had no problem scamming now.

"Father?"

"What is it, boy?" Morgan made sure to sound appropriately gruff, but, as always, Logan knew to ignore it.

"Why won't you give them the bands?"

Morgan sighed. "I will, son. But they'll pay a pretty sickle for them first. Men like that have silver and gold to go around. And it's men like us who suffer for it."

Logan nodded. Not in agreement, but in consideration. He then sat down, which was rare - Morgan rarely saw his son in any state but moving. "And if they were Mum's bands? But I guess then it would be different. Because rich people aren't like us?"

At that, the storekeeper paused. He thought of his wife. They ought to head home - the hour was late, and she would be expecting them. She would be cooking. Maybe pot roast - her pot roast was delicious. The house would be smelling of thyme and lemon. Most likely she would be wearing the apron he'd bought her soon after they had married. It was a cute little thing, with scenes of farms and windmills patterned over it.

And, when she saw them Apparate onto the doorstep, she would smile. And that smile would light up the room.

They didn't have silver wedding bands. His success in business had meant he'd been able to purchase some fine jewelry, but the enchanted, engraved bands these De La Ware people had was still...impractical.

Still. For a moment, he imagined Logan, house burning down, fleeing. Would he think of that apron? Pay money for it, years later?

Part 3: The Silver Letter

He never did quite understand what had made him do it. It's the honest ones who get you - wrap you around their thumb and yank all your common sense out. He'd tell Logan that, someday.

He wrote no words. The envelope contained the bands, and that was it.