Chapter 12
Soon enough, Bellatrix suggested they leave the Black Chimaera and have a look around some of their favorite shops.
"There've never been so many Dark artifacts in London before," Mulciber said with a knowing smirk. "Cursed goods are coming in from all over the world. With the Dark Lord gaining popularity, the market's never been better."
Mulciber's father worked for the Ministry department responsible for regulating the sale of Dark objects, but he mainly assured that these fell into the hands of shopkeepers friendly with the family.
It was beginning to rain when they left the pub, so they hugged the walls of the narrow alley, ducking beneath the dripping overhangs.
"In here," Bellatrix said when they reached Borgin and Burke's. The dim, overstuffed shop was crowded, but at least it would be dry. Severus followed Mulciber grimly, and had to shoulder a foul-smelling hag out of the way before he could close the door behind him. If it weren't for the Dark-detecting spell he wanted to try, Severus would have liked nothing better than to leave this dreary place.
"You reckon that book's here?" Wilkes asked, licking his lips excitedly.
"What book?" Severus asked quickly.
Bellatrix laughed. "A gift for your girlfriend, right, Mulciber?"
He snorted.
Turning back to Severus, Bellatrix said, "It's a new cursed book his father passed along. Beautiful thing—can't stop reading it once you start, and when you reach the end you shrivel up and die. Makes a lovely sight."
Severus forced himself to laugh. As his comrades forced their way to the front of the shop to speak with Borgin, he slid a hand into his pocket and grasped his wand. Revelio arcanum obscuro.
Nothing happened. Severus cursed under his breath and took a firmer grip on the wand. Revelio arcanum obscuro!
He had just spun in a slow circle, searching for any sign whatsoever that something had happened, when a fierce gust of icy wind caught him in the chest. He whirled, but the shop door was firmly shut.
"Oi! Watch yerself!" barked a stout, gargoyle-faced man, dragging a chipped vase out of Severus's reach.
Severus just glared at him. The wind had died as quickly as it had come.
Revelio arcanum obscuro!
Again the wind slammed Severus, but this time he could tell that it came from several directions at once. The spell was working! As the streams of icy air began to taper away, Severus turned in the direction of the most powerful wind. Lying on a velvet block just a few feet before him was a very plain dagger, crude and rusted so badly that several holes gaped in the blade. He wouldn't have noticed it at all if his attention hadn't been drawn to it. Severus grinned in triumph—so this unremarkable dagger was the most powerful Dark artifact in a store crammed with magic.
Mulciber elbowed him sharply. "What're you so pleased about?" he hissed.
Severus blinked. "Just—just remembering the muggle we gave that cursed teacup to last year," he said hurriedly.
When Mulciber scowled at him and rejoined the others, Severus sidled over to Borgin's portly assistant and said, "Excuse me, sir, but do you know what this dagger does?"
Irritation quickly turned to suspicion on the man's face as he saw where Severus was pointing. "And what would a schoolboy want with something like that?" he asked sharply.
Severus shrugged. "Curiosity. I'm not about to buy it, if that's what you're worried about."
The man glanced from Borgin back to Severus before shuffling closer. In a low voice, he said, "It's a very old curse, said to bind men to the wielder. But the wielder pays for it in years of his lifespan. Bind too many and you're dead."
"How does it work?" Severus asked eagerly.
The assistant seemed to remember himself and stepped back, frowning once again. "Go bother someone else, young man. I have paying customers to attend to."
With a sharp nod, Severus turned and shoed his way through the crowd to Wilkes's side. Bellatrix haggling gleefully with Borgin, but he couldn't concentrate on what they were saying.
A dagger that can bind men…Severus wondered with a sudden chill whether a Dark Mark might be more than just an outward sign. Maybe the Dark Lord's binding ran deeper than that—maybe it changed a person. And Severus did not like that idea at all.
It was with relief that Severus left his friends at last, though he had to find a pay phone and beg his father to come get him. The ride home was far from pleasant. His father was convinced that Severus had deliberately ruined his day, and went on about how worthless and greedy Severus had become. It was a familiar rant, but that didn't make it sting any less. Severus maintained a stony silence, trying to distract himself by imagining what Lily was doing.
By the time they reached their dingy street, the rain was coming down harder than ever and Severus had a pounding headache. He gave his headache as an excuse to escape supper, and his father shouted at him the whole way up the stairs.
"GOOD-FOR-NOTHING, INSOLENT LITTLE BAS—"
Severus slammed the door and sank onto his bed, wishing he could risk the muffliato spell. Apart from his discovery that the Dark-detection spell worked, the day had been a colossal waste.
Several hours later, once the streetlights had blossomed beneath the relentless sheen of rain, Severus's mum tiptoed upstairs with a bowl of soup and a glass of Pepperup Potion.
"Thanks, Mum," Severus said, massaging his temples. "I don't think I'm sick, though. I'll be fine tomorrow."
She nodded and set the bowl and glass on his bedside table. "Drink the potion anyway, would you?" Then she did something she hadn't done in years—she leaned over and kissed Severus on the forehead.
"G'night, Mum," Severus mumbled, surprised.
Then he was alone once more.
He drank the steaming potion in one gulp and spent longer stirring the noodle soup, breathing in the gentle aroma. His headache had concentrated and intensified in two points just above his forehead, where it felt as though someone was drilling a pair of nails straight through his skull. He was afraid this was a side-effect of the Dark spell he'd used, unless it was Bellatrix's idea of a practical joke. Desperately he thumbed through Dark Magic, the book he'd saved, but there was no warning attached to the spell he had used. A few of the spells required gruesome sacrifices, but this one was meant to be straightforward after the initial pain of setting it up.
Eventually he slipped into an uneasy sleep, the light still on and the book splayed open on his chest, only to jolt upright as a wave of pain fiercer than ever shot through his skull. He was getting a bit scared now. What if something had gone horribly wrong?
Hissing a string of curses, he stumbled from bed and down to the bathroom, where he splashed water on his face and stared at his white, frightened reflection. Then he gave a yelp. Protruding from his forehead, nearly covered by his greasy black hair, were a pair of bony knobs like horns. When Severus touched one gently, he was hit with a wave of nausea.
It was definitely a curse.
Still weak, Severus staggered back up to his room, where he paced three times from the door to the window. What could he do? He couldn't confide in his parents, and he couldn't write to Dumbledore without an owl. He had only one choice.
Pulling on his coat and tucking the book safely inside, Severus made his way downstairs and let himself out into the drenching rain. He needed Lily's help.
