Disclaimer: Characters owned by JK Rowling
The Niffler's Trove
My little tavern rarely experiences any unusual or exciting activity. It is situated a short distance from Knockturn Alley… it is also underground. Both of these aspects, I believe, have partaken in its downfall. I try and advertise clearly but still no one (aside from my usual three customers) ever seems to want to come.
The Niffler's Trove is unfortunate in its outward appearance. In being so close to Knockturn Alley and all the riff-raff that surrounds that area the entrance has had all manner of spells and curses thrown at it. The result of this being that the façade is not quite sure what it is supposed to look like and so has taken on the appearance of a mouldy, run-down shop that smells of cabbage in the winter months and dragon breath in the summer.
You will understand my frustration, therefore, when I inform you that the interior of my treasured tavern actually lives up to its name – it is a place of valuable and delightful things. It consists of two rooms divided only by half a large archway. The bar faces this half-arch and so is situated in both rooms. I shall remind you that I work underground and therefore have no windows. Creating false windows is difficult magic, and I am a simple man with little time to learn such trivialities.
Therefore, due to the lack of natural light, my two rooms sparkle in candlelight. I possess many antiques which I have displayed along the walls. Some of them, (the ones which are made from silver and gold), glitter as they reflect the flickering light. I am also the proud owner of the late eighteenth century English Quidditch Champion Umberto Jefferson's broomstick. Some people have laughed, some have admired. It looks, of course, like an ordinary house broomstick; there is nothing remotely similar in it to the fancy brands we have today. It was even flown in matches before the cushion charm was invented.
Despite all of this, however, witches and wizards still feel it necessary to avoid The Niffler's Trove. My three customers (a hag, a wizard who looks like an ancient monument, and the previous owner of The Niffler's Trove's wife) visit infrequently and so, much of the time the tavern is open I spend in quiet solitude.
You might imagine my surprise, therefore, when one particularly cold winter morning I saw the most remarkable pair of purple shoes happily descend my modest steps. With each step down, the shoes escaped the hem of the deep blue outer robe and in doing so revealed a pair of green and red socks.
Of course I recognised Albus Dumbledore as the very tip of his long, white beard came into view. Never have I been more grateful that I keep my tavern sparklingly clean and fresh. Not surprisingly, the freshness comes from a little spell I have perfected over the years – it quite clearly could not come from the peculiar smelling entrance.
"Good evening, Professor Dumbledore," I said welcomingly, disguising my astonishment. "What can I get you?"
"Good evening, Basil," he replied, much to my surprise. It had been over fifty years since I had attended Hogwarts. "I will have a Gesticulating Gin, please."
"Very well, sir," I responded, and set about making the frustratingly wriggly beverage.
Gesticulating Gins were not often called for by my usual customers and so I had not had much practise in that area. It is a peculiar drink which waves to whoever happens to be grasping the glass at the time, be it the pourer or the drinker or the table. The main difficulty is in pouring it out of the bottle and into the awaiting glass – Gesticulating Gins never want to leave the bottle and so do their best to grip the sides when the bottle is turned upside-down.
They do move eventually, however, and after my third try, I managed to successfully pour Professor Dumbledore a glass. I handed it to him as it waved to me; then I saw it turn and begin waving to my esteemed customer as he took it from my grasp.
"Thank you, Basil," he said, then turned to his drink and chuckled at it merrily.
"Pardon me, sir," I said, not really wanting to pry but unable to contain my curiosity. Dumbledore looked up from his drink, which he evidently found rather amusing, and waited patently for my question. "What made you venture into my little tavern on such a cold morning as this?"
Dumbledore smiled and said, "A place with such interesting odours coming from it can hardly escape my notice, Basil. Very good publicizing," he continued politely, then added, "You may perhaps wish to alter your choice of smell, however. I am not sure that the wizarding world is quite ready for cabbage at the entrance."
I chuckled rather, and explained to my old Professor that it was not my intension, and that the smell is worse in the summer.
"It turns away all the customers, as you can see, Dumbledore," I told him, indicating the empty rooms. "Only I haven't the magic strong enough to counter all the curses that have been thrown its way."
"Well, if you have no objections, Basil, I shall do my best to change the smell to whatever you wish. I rather like your little tavern and so do mot mind offering my services, if you will accept them."
"Oh thank you, Dumbledore," I exclaimed over the moon. "I rather like the smell of baking bread. A simple common smell, but marvellous none the less."
"Indeed," replied Dumbledore, nodding in agreement. "I shall see to it as I leave."
At that moment the door creaked and groaned open a second time that evening and another foreign pair of shoes stepped slowly and quietly down the narrow stairway. This time the shoes were black, the socks were black and the robe was black. A man with shoulder length, greasy hair stepped into the tavern with a look of mild disgust on his face, causing his hooked nose to 'hook' even more.
"Ah, Severus," said Dumbledore to the stranger.
"Dumbledore," the man said, nodding in greeting to his companion and moving to stand next to him at the bar. "Whatever persuaded you to come here, Dumbledore?" he asked. "The smell is most unwelcoming at the entrance."
"I find it rather appealing actually, Severus," Dumbledore answered, and I smiled to myself. Dumbledore then addressed me. "Basil," he began, "may I introduce Professor Severus Snape; Severus," he turned to his companion, "this is Basil Button, owner of The Niffler's Trove."
Professor Snape and I nodded to each other stiffly.
"What's your poison, sir?" I asked.
To my discomfort, the professor smirked and stared at me thoroughly for several long seconds. Although I was ill at ease I would not back down, and so I stared right back at him. It was a horrible feeling, as if he could read my very thoughts. He finally broke away and a shiver ran down the entire length of my spine.
"I shall have a gilly water, if you please," he said.
I was glad to turn away. The young professor reminded me of the types you see in Knockturn Alley and it shook me to the bone to see Dumbledore keeping company with folk like that. But it was not any of my business and so I kept to my work. I handed the gilly water back to the black clothed professor and Dumbledore excused them both from my company and made his way with Professor Snape towards a table by the empty grate.
I wandered over to them a few minutes later and enquired whether or not they wanted the fire lit.
"Yes please, Basil," replied Dumbledore, and so with a flick of my wand a roaring fire was licking the chimney breast. It was the best fire I had ever conjured. Dumbledore always seemed to have that impression on me, although I couldn't help feeling that it was not entirely my own work.
I made my way back over to the bar and began cleaning the surface. I always took on the muggle way of cleaning because I had so few customers that I needed something to keep me busy.
I glanced over to my only customers of the evening and saw that they were deep in conversation. About what I can only guess, but whatever it was, it seemed dreadfully important.
x x x
"Would a crowded place not be better, Dumbledore?" Snape asked. "We do not want to be overheard."
"We do not want to be seen by the general public either, Severus," Dumbledore replied. "You forget that we are not merely two professors having a friendly drink. If we see people we know they will strike up a conversation and we will never resolve this matter."
"Then why not do it in your office?" he asked.
"Because you need to be seen with me around Knockturn. It will make your account all the more believable."
Snape took a sip of his gilly water. His face showed its usual sneer, but his mind was writhing. A few months ago he made a vow that would most likely result in the worst possible scenario and the man whose life it concerned the most was sitting opposite him as calmly as a quiet sea.
"Dumbledore," Snape said, "I know that Draco will not be able to carry out this task. That means that I will have to."
"I know," Dumbledore responded evenly. "Severus, you are the only one who can do it." His voice changed to a whisper. "This is the ultimate task. Voldemort will have no reason not to trust you completely if you do this. Ending my life is the only way that Harry and Voldemort can face each other alone. If I am alive I would have no choice but to interfere and Voldemort will never be defeated. I cannot sit back and watch Harry walk into a battle knowing that I can save him, even if it means that Voldemort is not overcome. You must do this Severus."
Dumbledore's voice was low but severe. Snape sat stiffly in his chair, thinking over the consequences of such an action.
"Listen, Dumbledore," he said finally, "I cannot see how I can get out of this if Draco does manage to come face to face with you. But what about the Order? They will not trust me after I have done something that they have feared would happen for years. Being Voldemort's most trusted follower would not bear any significance if the Order will not trust me to help them afterwards. They would never agree if you tell them our plans, and once I have carried them out they will come after me; so will the Ministry. And I know that Harry will."
"Then you must work alone, Severus." Dumbledore said. "I agree that the Order will never allow this if we enlighten them – and so we will not. You must assure me that you will work alone and in secret, uncovering and conquering Voldemort's forces from the inside. You will have no one to help you and no one to protect you should the Death Eaters uncover your plans. Can you do this?"
Snape took a deep breath. This was to be his life in the future – living in fear of his enemies exposing his false nature, and in fear of the people who he is working for but believe him to be the worst of enemies.
"I can," he replied.
END