Chapter 12: The Toxic Quarry
Had it not been for the snugness and sense of security that accompanied him now, Albus would have thought the events of the previous night to be a dream.
The idea that he was now with his friends again was simply too comforting, too blissful to be had on a venture in which there had thus far been so little to make him smile. And yet, as he lay with his face pressed into warmness, his still-sleeping limbs spread about widely and his tongue rolling over the patch of flesh that had accumulated overnight in his injured mouth, he knew that it was illogical to consider otherwise. He was no longer left to face his daunting future alone.
Straightening his posture and grinning stupidly, Albus took the time to soak in where he'd rested for the night. He was still alone in the tent; a tent that he just now realized wouldn't be able to hold three people anyway. Its size had been expanded magically, he could tell, but not by much; it was clearly a muggle object that had been charmed. It was solid black in color, containing nothing other than the blankets and sheets that he'd collapsed on previously. They came in an array of hues, though, identifiable now because of the light seeping in, and Albus managed to sleepily reason that the coverings and padding lacked consistency because they were the product of a merger; both Scorpius and Morrison, he figured, had snatched up some articles from their homes and fled.
Now rubbing at his eyes, Albus poked his head out of the tent and peered through the blinding light at what proved to be an amusing scene; Morrison had fallen asleep with his head propped upon the stool from the previous night, his mouth hanging wide open as he snorted and licked at his lips. Scorpius sat with his legs crossed a few feet away, near an extinguished fire, flicking his wand with concentration to launch tiny blue pellets into his friend's gaping mouth.
"What are you doing?" Albus asked, as a pellet bounced off of Morrison's nose.
"Trying to break my record," Scorpius answered him flatly, though he turned with a surprised look afterwards, apparently just now realizing who had asked the question. "You're up!" he said brightly.
"I'm up," Albus confirmed, now standing straight and stretching. He gazed around the surrounding area next, which, despite the shimmering enchantments, was quite clear. The orange haze that seemed to hang over Struckton in the middle of the day was present in the morning as well, though it wasn't as powerful. The bright light made the decay of the town more apparent though, details of the formless remains of the homes now apparent. Albus could see everything from window frames and table legs to chipped vases and the pieces that may have once made up lamps, all protruding from the cluster of clutter as though determined to be noticed.
"And you seem well rested, too," Scorpius told him, now back to conjuring pellets. The next one soared over Morrison's head completely. "Damn, back to zero..."
"How long was I out?" Albus asked, taking a seat next to him.
"Quite a while, actually," he answered. "Past noon now, I think."
"Did I miss anything?" Albus asked, suddenly feeling slightly glum. Now that he'd had his rest, he realized how selfish it had been to forgo watchmen duties the night before; despite the intrepidness of his friends, he should have insisted upon helping at least slightly.
Scorpius seemed to sense this idea, however, as he spoke his next words in a rather dismissive fashion. "Nothing at all mate, promise. Had some people walk by once or twice, but nothing ever came of it and that died down a while ago. And we're both pretty rested up," he added, indicating Morrison. "I'm just coming off a three hour nap or so, honestly..."
Albus nodded, turning his attention back to Morrison, who did indeed look as though he'd just entered a deep sleep. He was mumbling to himself as though dreaming, anyway. Albus went to make a comment to Scorpius about this, but before he could muster anything, his friend had already steered the conversation into more stressful territory.
"And just so you know," he started, "me and Morrison spoke about you last night, agreed on some things."
"I figured," Albus said lamely, bracing himself.
"Well what we settled on most-and I'm going to make this very clear-is that we haven't given up on you just yet."
Albus gave is friend a warm smile. "I know you guys haven't-"
"No," Scorpius said, shaking his head. "I don't mean in finding Darvy or whatnot. Because you haven't given up on that either. I mean with your head," he added, pointing to it. "And whatever strange stuff is going on up there. I know you reckon there's no way to stop- to stop whatever it is the Wand is doing to you, but me and Morrison aren't having any of that. We can go after Darvy, sure, but let's get this straight; we've got every intention of making sure you've got a long, sane life afterward."
Albus gave a melancholy sigh; in truth, he hadn't given up either, not fully. The destruction of those vials had been a crushing blow though, and beyond that, Ares' discourse on the inevitability of it all was still biting into him. The former Auror had seemed to suggest that destroying the Wand wouldn't be enough for curing him because the Wand itself was just an object; a body. But what could be done to it more than physically destroying it?
"I get it," Albus told him. "I do. I just- I wanted to prepare you guys for the worst, that's all. And I really feel like we don't have much time either."
Scorpius gave his own sigh, but looked away. 'We'll figure it out mate," he said. "We always do."
As if on cue, Morrison tilted his body to roll over; the moment his head had left the stool, however, he'd jerked himself awake frantically, eyes bulging.
"Whassagoinon?" he said, to no one. "Did the dogs knock it over again?"
This nonsensical statement was enough to make Albus laugh, forcing Morrison's attention towards them both. He peered at them for a second from the sitting position, then wiped at his own eyes, still stirring.
"Dreaming you're at Mel's place again?" Scorpius asked him.
Morrison scratched at his head, now blinking furiously. Once he seemed slightly more cognizant, he answered. "Yeah...but we were under water," he added cryptically, scratching at his chin.
"Right," Scorpius said sharply, rising, "well Albus is awake, so I'm going to get started on breakfast, then we'll pack and head out?"
"Sounds good to me," Morrison said, looking around. Albus engaged his friend curiously though.
"What is going on with Melonie?" he asked, not sure why she'd slipped his mind the previous night. Morrison's girlfriend was as likely to be as distraught over his leaving as his family-if not more so.
"Don't know," Morrison admitted. "Haven't spoken to her," he added with a chortle.
"You guys didn't break up!?"
"Nah," Morrison answered, batting it away. "Just had a small row when I first told her I was going after you. She'll get over it."
"Huh..."
Albus turned away at this, opting to watch Scorpius get to work on their first meal of the day instead. Already he'd reignited the fire from the previous night, and just from the anticipation of food, Albus felt his stomach give a lurch of hunger.
"Don't get too excited," Scorpius insisted, catching on to his salivating face. "Travelling a bit light, just going to cook up some beans..."
"Hey I'll take it," Albus said, now settling himself down at Scorpius' side. "Where'd you guys get the tent, by the way?"
"Borrowed it from Mike," Morrison chirped up from behind. "Well-stole, really. Muggles love camping, he's got plenty."
"We added on what we could," Scorpius continued for him, and Albus noticed that he'd pulled a pot out of nowhere, and had already gotten started, "but it hasn't been much of a concern, we've been able to head back every now and then anyway."
"Up until now," Morrison said, now sitting across from them. "I reckon there's an inn at this place for us to stay at? Or something along those lines?"
His question was directed at Scorpius, but Albus felt compelled to answer it. Cringing slightly, he admitted what little knowledge he had on the matter. "I'm not sure," he said. "I don't even know if Darvy will be there, it's just the best lead that I've got, currently."
"Well what makes it a lead?" Scorpius asked. "What's Darvy got to do with the Toxic Quarry?"
Albus scratched at the back of his neck. "Well...according to his brother, he was born there."
A small silence overtook them following these words; Albus was fairly certain that being associated with Darvy made the town of Kakos more ominous, as opposed to the reverse. Sensing this, he made a hasty offer.
"Look, we can try something else if you guys aren't-"
Scorpius held up his hand. "A lead is a lead," he said. "You're in charge here, frightening as that is," he added. "Admittedly I would prefer it if Darvy had been born on some tropical island, but there's nothing we can do about that, is there? Besides, I haven't been to the place in years. Maybe it'll be more pleasant!"
There was a false cheeriness to his voice that Albus realized a moment later to be heavily disguised sarcasm; nevertheless, he opted not to argue the matter. Within minutes Scorpius had sloppily spooned their meal into three conjured bowls, and when they ate, it was done quietly, albeit with speed. Albus scarfed his down even faster than Morrison, which giving his friend's tendency to inhale his food, was saying something about the state of his body.
The meal was a satisfactory one, relatively speaking, and as they began packing away their things, Albus (with very little to do in this regard) decided to engage his friends with questions of a more recent nature.
"So do you guys know what ended up happening in Mottley?" he asked, and when they both gave him a confused stare, he elaborated. "The place where I found Wilde? Where I bumped into-"
"Oh right," Scorpius said, and he shrugged. "Didn't hear much from my dad, actually. We were waiting near the Manor when he Apparated to us. Told us that a huge fight had happened, that he'd run into you, and that he knew where you were going."
"So the fighting had definitely stopped then, when you spoke to your dad?" Albus asked.
"Seemed like it. Probably just prior to meeting with us too."
"Did he happen to mention-"
"Your family's all fine mate," Scorpius said, waving his hand. "Dad, uncle, aunt, whatever. My dad even mentioned that he was going to try to lead your folks a little off the path, actually..."
"Did you happen to hear about Eckley?" Albus asked. "I kind of...left him unconscious somewhere."
Morrison gave him an amused look, while Scorpius offered an expression not dissimilar from pride; apparently this information was attenuating the feeling of betrayal that he'd harbored the previous night. "No word of him, but I'm sure that just means he got recovered; my dad knew him after all, taught him and everything. He would have told me if anything really bad had happened."
Albus nodded, but then raised a rather different question. "Well- erm- how did you guys get here? Neither of you-"
"Apparition isn't impossible if you've never been somewhere, just really difficult," Scorpius said. "Have to have a solid idea of the place and everything. Once we had the name of this place, we looked over some maps, worked out a rough idea of the surrounding area. And you remember we have a little prodigy here, don't you?" he added, making to scratch behind Morrison's ears, as though he were an obedient dog.
But Morrison fought him off, laughing. "Well I didn't get the job completely done. Got us close enough though, didn't I? About a mile south of here or so, not much of a walk."
"And you guys remember the way out, then?" Albus asked, as they all surveyed the surrounding area, checking to see if anything was left behind.
"Eh, close enough," Morrison admitted.
"And on that note," Scorpius started, brandishing his wand, "are we all ready to go? I'm about to take the enchantments off of this place."
Albus did one last sweep of their spot, realizing somewhat sadly that there was little that he could leave behind. Fairhart's wiped letter was the only sentimental item on him now, and for practicality he had just his wand and Ares'-which, he realized, he'd already gotten some use out of.
"Alright," Scorpius said, looking between them, "keep your eyes peeled." And he waved his wand.
At once the shimmering barriers that had encircled them disappeared, and Albus felt himself tense up at once. Struckton looked identical now to how it had, but the feeling was quite different; without the magical protection of their campsite, they were rather exposed, a fact amplified by the time of day.
"So about how far are we from the exit?" Albus asked them both, his voice instinctively lower.
"Not far," Morrison said. "Twenty minute walk, at the most."
"But we go slow," Scorpius said, his wand held outward. "With any luck, those homeless blokes are still sleeping in a bit."
Having the Dark Defectors mentioned out loud reminded Albus of just who they were identity wise-and this train of thought took him to their apparent indecisiveness the night before. He did not want to tell his friends just how close of a call it had been, but he had heard some things that he was rather curious about.
"So have you guys been keeping up with Waddlesworth at all?" he asked them, dragging his own wand from side to side, the added vigilance now second nature to him.
Morrison made a low, dismissive noise, but Scorpius was slightly more informative. "Not much to hear about him, actually. Granted we haven't had our noses in the Prophet all that much, but he's become something of a ghost recently, from what I've gathered."
"And he's been giving the Bloody Baron a run for his money, hasn't he?" Morrison commented. "Apparently just a sulky mess, not talking about the Dark Alliance, or Azkaban, or anything."
"Why do you ask?"
"No reason," Albus answered, and this wasn't exactly a lie. "Just heard some stuff, that's all, wasn't sure if it was true. Apparently the Hammer got killed, too?"
"Well that's probably part of the downward spiral," Scorpius told him, glancing over his shoulder for a moment.
"Kind of saw that one coming though," Morrison said. "Guy was always trying to pick fights; knew it'd catch up with him."
"Yeah, Waddlesworth's got no one, as far as we can tell," Scorpius continued. "I mean, WAR still exists, but it's a bit fragmented, not even half of what it was. Especially with all these other groups rising up and whatnot..."
Albus nodded, pleased to have confirmation of these facts. Still, he wasn't quite sure just how he felt about it. He had no kind things to say about Waddlesworth-indeed, had even come to view the man as somewhat revolting-but there was no denying that his story was a powerful reminder of just how often power was shifting in these dark times. There had been a brief stretch not terribly long ago where Albus had been rooting for the man, though that was before he'd taken his father's release from Azkaban into his own hands. WAR had permeated everything then, the public, the Ministry, even the halls of Hogwarts, an idea that now seemed almost laughable...
"So what went on with you and Fango Wilde?" Scorpius asked, and Albus had been so lost in his thoughts that he wasn't even sure how much time had elapsed since their last discussion.
"Huh? Oh- erm, kind of a lot to it. Goes back to Fairhart," he added lamely.
"Fair enough," Scorpius answered, and they fell quiet once more.
The following silence seemed to nag at Albus as they walked, a harsh microcosm of how he felt as a whole. It was great to have his friends at his side once more, to have their support both physically and mentally. The lengths that they'd went to be by his side exceeded any expectations he could have had, and even as they walked along together, vigilant of the situation but dawdling somewhat in their own heads, he felt more comfortable-more comfortable than he had in weeks.
And yet, they were pursuing entirely different things. Morrison and Scorpius most certainly wanted Darvy defeated, but without Albus undertaking the task first, they probably would not have taken it upon themselves to get this far. It was still his mission, encouraged by Fairhart but ultimately a product of his own reasons. Stopping Darvy, ending the war. Destroying the evils that he'd been using to devastate the wizarding world. Possibly saving his own mind in the process-but only possibly.
His friends were now at his side to stay, but for the first time since he'd known them-despite all the trouble that he'd gotten them in-he felt as though he were their leader, and thus, truly responsible for them. It had nothing to do with talent or character, or resourcefulness or any personal merit of any kind; it was simply because it was his task that they'd signed themselves up for. This was a different feeling than with Fairhart, however similar the feelings of camaraderie were. With Fairhart, they had just been two wizards. They had had mutual interest, and had rekindled a friendship originating from his youth, but there were moments where each had favored different outcomes. This was not the case with his two friends here. No matter how much weight they pulled, they were still looking for him to initiate, were putting themselves at risk in the hopes that he wouldn't lead them astray.
What did that do to his priorities? Their safety was always paramount, but now he found himself foolishly comparing himself to the likes of Eckley and his brothers, forced to determine when the health of his allies outweighed the chances of success. What would Albus do if something happened to one of his friends? What if he was close to getting to Darvy, but found Morrison or Scorpius to be in need of help? After all that he'd resigned to give up in completing this endeavor...which would he choose?
Is it really that difficult?
The whisper had been right in his ear, accompanied by the feeling of a hand clasping his shoulder. Albus turned, wand drawn, just in time to see a sneer and a pair of glittering eyes dissolve into the daylight.
"What's going on?" Scorpius asked, as both of his companions turned as well, wands raised.
"Nothing," Albus said quickly, though he found his hand rubbing at where his shoulder had been grabbed. Or at least, where he'd felt it be grabbed.
His friends were looking at him with interest though.
"There- there was a bug on my neck," Albus lied. Morrison chortled and turned back around, but Scorpius wore a disbelieving expression. He didn't press the point, though.
"Right," his blonde friend started, a little uneasily, "well, exit should be right up around this corner. Look about right, Morrison?"
"This is definitely it," he answered, and Albus, despite what was nagging him, couldn't help but be impressed with the navigation skills of his peers.
The area in which they stood now seemed identical to all other portions of Struckton in terms of its components, but was set up rather differently. The piles of clutter that had once housed families were scarce; instead, it was larger heaps, arrayed in clumps as though the structures had been less uniform; office buildings, dining establishments, whatever else had once marked a functioning society for the now desolate town. The ground was more telling of things, though; Albus could see that the dirt road that they'd been following, already hard to discern, had faded out almost completely, suggesting that they were truly at the end of the dwelling.
"This is where you guys came in at?" Albus asked them both.
"Not too far from here," Morrison said, pointing off in the distance, though Albus couldn't see what he was indicating.
"Well we lucked out," Scorpius said, finally elevating the volume of his voice to a more natural point. "No trouble in leaving."
"Haven't left yet," Morrison said, grinning.
Albus watched as Scorpius gave him an expectant glare; as though daring him to offer his usual out. Albus did no such thing, however, unwilling to offend, and besides, he was already forcing himself to contemplate what lied ahead in Kakos. He had the strange feeling that once they were there, they would feel very limited in their options for leaving.
"Alright, huddle up then," Scorpius said, looking almost irritated as Morrison bounded up to him, clutching him roughly near the neck.
"Don't choke me-"
"Not choking, just trying to get steady-"
Albus approached as well, only lightly clutching Scorpius on the shoulder. Before his friend could do anything though, he asked what he thought was a prudent question.
"Erm...do you know exactly where it is you're taking us? Like outside the town, or some place-"
"Haven't been there in years," Scorpius reminded him crisply. "For all I know we're going to end up stuck in a wall."
"Do you think that there'll be charms blocking us?" Morrison inquired.
"Well if so, we'll just get forced out-"
"I doubt it," Albus said, thinking about it. "From what I've heard of the place, it seems like the ability to flee any moment is pretty important; no one's putting up those kinds of spells unless it's their own property."
"Well let's hope you're right," Scorpius said, and Morrison gave a nod. Albus then felt as his friend clenched his body, jamming his eyes shut as he did so. "Okay, let me think on this now...turn with me...1...2...3-"
Albus turned with his friends, barely managing to keep his posture as they did so. Morrison had considerable more force to his movement, and for a moment, it seemed as though he was the one hurdling them through space. Albus closed his eyes as the process took place, though it didn't matter; everything was black anyway, black and compressed, and despite the feeling that his body had reduced itself to a speck, he could still feel his fingers curled around his friend's lanky shoulder-
His feet hit solid ground, though they slipped soon after.
"W-woah-"
He felt as someone grabbed him roughly, realizing a moment later that it was Morrison. Seized by his other hand was Scorpius.
Albus made to turn, to get a good idea of where they were, but noticed at once that there wasn't much around him; additionally, he was standing at an angle. It wasn't until he looked down that he realized just why that was; they were standing on top of a building.
"What the-"
"Sorry!" Scorpius said earnestly.
Albus continued staring though, trying to gauge just how high they were. It wasn't a terrible fall down to the road below; they were on top of a stone cottage of sorts, the triangular top of which was slanted, thus forcing the three of them to fight for balance.
"They must have built something here since last time-" Scorpius started to defend himself, nearly falling over again, only to be seized roughly by Morrison and held in place.
"Hey!" came a call several feet below them, and Albus and his friends all looked down. An elderly man with a grizzled beard that hid his face was looking up at them with agitation, his cloak not quite concealing the cane that he was using for support.
"Erm- yes?" Albus asked, shifting a look over to his friends.
"You lot aren't supposed to be up there!" the man barked.
"Really?" Morrison answered sarcastically. "And here I thought the loo was up here-"
"We're doing work up here," Albus interjected, not wanting to cause trouble only seconds after arriving. Scorpius backed him up immediately.
"Yeah. Fixing the uh...the roof," he said simply, tossing his hands up.
The man below them scoffed and batted his own gnarled hands, but turned away nonetheless. Once he was out of sight Albus braced himself, then leapt down from his spot, landing fifteen feet below relatively unharmed. He heard heavy, identical noises a moment later, and knew at once that his friends had joined him. And then, he took in his first true view of Kakos.
He wasn't sure what he was expecting, and yet, he thought that what he saw was appropriate. It was a scene ripped from a fairytale-one of the darker ones. It was a cramped, withered place, with cobblestone streets and all of the markers of an older society. He saw that the street that they were on was lined with shops, but not the type in which you went in and browsed; instead it was small areas, stands almost, where designated artisans were calling out their crafts. Albus saw a butcher right away, on his left, and a little bit further on than appeared to be, interestingly enough, a blacksmith.
"Blimey mate," Morrison said, turning to Scorpius, "I think you Apparated us into the past."
Albus wasn't sure if his claim was legitimate or not; it did seem like they were in an earlier point of history. Gazing ahead he could even see what looked like a bell tower, and he was pretty sure that it was still functional too.
His eyes were not doing all of the investigating though; his other senses were in a frenzy of their own. Scorpius had taken them right to what seemed to be a marketplace of sorts, and the resemblance to Knockturn was uncanny in more than looks. True, it was a shady looking thing, with nearly everyone adorned in black and hiding their faces from view, but the bustle had a general feeling of distrust to it; people were communicating in hoarse whispers, only occasional raising the volume to engage in yelling. It was a stuffy assortment too, passerby constantly bumping into one another without apology, and Albus could have sworn that one of them had tried to rifle through his pockets as he'd went by.
"Let's get out of here," he said at once, eyeing what appeared to be a cobbler on his left; he was a sour looking man with a prominent chin, and he was waving his wand slowly over a single brown shoe, apparently repairing it.
"Where do we go?" Morrison asked.
"Anywhere else," Albus answered, and they all instinctively turned around to head the other way. It was only as they fought through the crowd that Albus realized what was truly unsettling about the Toxic Quarry, more so than even its primeval atmosphere and eerie appearance. It was the smell.
The odor was so overwhelming that Albus couldn't believe that he hadn't recognized it first and foremost. There was not a specific color to Kakos like there with Struckton; no distinct shade that seemed to accompany the surrounding architecture. Instead it was a lingering scent that seemed to define the area, one neither appealing nor disgusting-simply prominent. The entire town itself, from the mere sample that he'd familiarized himself with, was grey and black and silver, the hue of the stone roads, and somehow, it even smelled these colors as well. It was a stale stench, thick and gaseous yet delicate, not attacking his nostrils but merely tickling them menacingly. Albus wasn't quite sure how he knew-perhaps it was from his extensive work in the field recently-but he determined at once that it was the product of potions. Not just one potion, or one kind of potion, but an assortment of them. The Toxic Quarry, he realized, was aptly named.
"I smell it too," Scorpius said from beside him, apparently aware of the look on his face.
"Smells like my aunt's house," Morrison commented, to himself, but Scorpius then silenced with him a look.
Together the three of them fought their way through the crowd, Albus catching some very unsavory sights as they went. Near him a man covered head to toe in bandages was leaning casually against some shop, somehow managing to knock back a vial of some bright green liquid through his coverings. A little ways off from him a woman was racing across the road barefoot, a squalling toddler buried into her chest.
"Woah!" Morrison said from slightly ahead of them, screeching to a halt at once. He held out his arms, causing Albus and Scorpius to do the same.
"What-" Albus started, but then he saw it. The cobblestone pathway that they were about to cross had been held up momentarily; a carriage was driving through, pulled by two dark brown horses.
"No way," he heard Scorpius mutter under his breath, and Albus shared in the sentiment. Just how stuck in the past were these people?
Or perhaps, he realized, they'd opted for this. What if living as though it were a hundred or so years ago was not some sort of failure of the society, but rather, a preservation of what most of the people embraced? One thing rang clear above all else in Albus' head in only the few minutes that he'd been here; this had never been a Ministry regulated area. Just as Ares had revealed to him, Kakos was a haven for murderers and thieves, and all things illegal; in many ways, they were separate from the Wizarding World. Was it so unreasonable to think that the people preferred it this way, rather than were merely living in it as a consequence?
"Do you think there's any muggles here?" Morrison asked, watching as the horses trotted by.
"Doubtful," Albus answered him.
"Interesting," Scorpius quipped, "I could've sworn that Hogsmeade was the only all-wizarding dwelling in Britain..."
"Well I reckon this place doesn't get included in a lot of discussions like that," Albus said with a frown. "But come on...we should find a place to stay."
"Ahh...I dunno," Morrison started as they crossed the road, and most uncharacteristically, he sounded quite nervous. "I was thinking we could just stay camping?" he asked, indicated the baggage around his shoulders. "I don't fancy sleeping near these people..."
"Setting up a tent in the middle of a busy road is going to get us quite a bit of attention," Scorpius said, mirroring what Albus was thinking exactly. "Let's find an inn or something. Come on, stop being a baby..." he added, taking in Morrison's shrewd expression.
They meandered along from here, all of them keeping their eyes out for some place where they might be welcomed. Albus reminded himself that despite the nature of this place-really, the inherent danger of it-Kakos was a functioning society, in a sense. Just as would have been the case in a place like Diagon Alley, they should be able to find reasonable room and board; a base of operations of sorts. He was quite anxious to do it, too. The quicker they established a place they could return to, the sooner they could go out looking...
This mere thought gave him chills, as though it alone had succeeded in bringing his current whereabouts truly into focus. Was Darvy somewhere in this village? Was he hiding in his first home, counting on the very anonymity that Albus and his friends had just been discussing?
"This looks like an alright place," Scorpius said from next to him, and Albus turned to take in what he was seeing.
They had managed to work their way completely from the chaos that had been the shopping area, and now were on a rather still, slanted street, leading up directly to a hulking structure that Albus identified at once as an inn.
"'Lodgings'," Morrison read off of a battered sign only a few feet ahead of them. "Well they sure can advertise, can't they?"
"I'd rather it be clear than get taken by surprise," Scorpius drawled, and he led the way up the winding road. Albus took up the rear as they went, glancing over his shoulder nervously as he did so. For some reason, the lack of people around him was just as disorienting as the previous gaggle.
They were only outside of the establishment for a moment before Scorpius pushed the heavy door open, but Albus noted in that moment just how plain and inconspicuous the building was. It was larger than most of the places they'd passed by thus far, but lacked any distinguishing marks, bar perhaps the stone chimney oddly billowing smoke at its top. Aside from that it was as grimy and grey as expected; that Scorpius had even spotted it was impressive.
The interior was along the same lines, though strangely familiar to him. Though set up like the Leaky Cauldron, there was an unmistakable dreariness to the place, most prominently among its patrons. Circular tables adorned the main floor, all of them taken, but very few of them by more than one person. Instead the individuals sat on their own, all of them drinking something smoky that was probably Firewhiskey; Albus noticed, however, that many of them were removing tiny vials from their robes here and there, adding their own, personal drafts to their drinks at their leisure.
"Can I help you?" came a gruff voice near them, and Albus jumped as a man emerged from behind a counter. He had long white hair and scars around his lips, but Albus thought that he would have looked unpleasant anyway.
"Erm- yes, how much to lodge here?" Scorpius took over.
"How many rooms?" the landlord asked him, sounding very unwelcoming.
"Just the one, for the three of us," Scorpius said, turning back to indicate his friends. Albus did nothing, but Morrison gave a sheepish smile, and the landlord curled his lip savagely at it.
But still, he didn't turn them away.
"It'll still be three galleons per night for each of yeh," he told them.
Albus felt his heart sink. He'd been aware all along that he had few things of value on him at this juncture, but had forgotten completely just how imperative money would be for the remainder of his journey. True, he hadn't had much on him back at Eckley's base, but he had had a little, and he was regretting leaving it behind now.
He threw a panicked look Scorpius' way, but his friend, in a rather unconcerned manner, had already withdrawn his pouch of money and produced the first night's rent. The innkeeper swiped it from his hands before he could even recount it, then stalked off.
"Gettin' yer keys," he mumbled, disappearing from sight.
"Thanks," Albus said to his friend, the knot in his chest loosening. "I owe you-"
"It's gold, mate," Scorpius said casually. "Not going to be worth much anyhow if Darvy destroys everything, right? Eh?"
These words had an interesting effect on the surrounding gloom. The noises before had been quiet, but steady. Now Albus noticed that those nearest to them had seemed to freeze in time, as though perking their ears to make sure they hadn't misheard. Scorpius flushed, coughed, then turned away, actually pulling up the hood of his cloak now to conceal himself.
"We should probably watch we say around here a little bit better," Albus told him under his breath.
"Yeah I picked up on that, thanks," Scorpius spat in a whisper, looking rather embarrassed.
"Where'd you get all that gold anyway?" Morrison asked him, as though eager to change the subject. "Don't get me wrong, I'm thankful for it and all, just curious..."
"Well I said before that my dad was making steady money now, and he's not really using it...so I took out a loan of sorts. Plus I've got my own savings and all..."
They continued their clandestine talk about expenses, but Albus used the time to better take in his surroundings. The momentary intake of breath that had followed Darvy's name had introduced to Albus the very real idea that there were Dark Alliance members around them-possibly even among this crowd here. Was it possible that they'd already been recognized?
He allowed his eyes to sift over the tables, though he did so as surreptitiously as possible. His first deduction was that the demographics of the Toxic Quarry were not unlike the rest of the Great Britain; he saw people of all color and size there, and ages ranging from young men to an elderly witch who was heating her drink by simply waving her hand over her cup in a circular manner. There were no red masks among them, the one aspect of attire that Albus had learned to identify with Darvy's supporters, but he supposed that this absence wasn't very telling. Even in such a place as this one, there were probably numerous reasons to hide that particular allegiance.
"Why's it a different color then, eh?"
Albus wasn't quite sure why these words caught his attention, but they did. Turning a little bit to his left, he saw that a table near the corner was occupied by two men sitting across from one another, apparently bartering instead of drinking.
"What are you on about?" asked one of them, and Albus noticed that despite his best efforts to hide his face, his long nose was still visible. "It's the same thing as last time."
"Last time it wasn't this blue," answered the prospective buyer, a darker fellow with sharp, bird-like eyes. "I remember. It was closer to green before."
"Huh," the seller said, scratching at his chin in apparent thought. Then he snapped his fingers. "I remember now. Swapped out the Goosegrass. Couldn't get hold of it this time."
"Then I don't want it!" the other said, making to force it back into the seller's hands.
"I just used Knotgrass instead!" he argued. "You'll feel it all the same. Go on, take a sample if you want. It's the same thing."
The customer narrowed his eyes, but uncorked the navy vial all the same, giving the vicinity a quick look before placing a dollop on his littlest finger. Albus watched as the concoction oozed out like syrup; he then touched his finger to his tongue, smacked his lips, and nodded his head.
"Fair enough," he said, digging through his pockets.
"What's going on?" came Morrison's voice in his ear, and Albus turned in time to see both of his friends offering a curious look.
"Nothing," he mumbled. "Just watch some bloke get ripped off, that's all..."
"How do you know?" Morrison asked him.
"Did you see the consistency of that thing? I don't know what's in it, but it can't be Knotgrass..."
Morrison shrugged at this, but Scorpius actually gave a tiniest of smirks. "Don't take this the wrong way mate, but you probably would have been just fine growing up here."
Albus scowled, not quite sure what to do with the statement. He was saved having to answer by the reappearance of the landlord though, who was not only jingling a set of small silver keys, but was holding a pad and quill as well.
"I'll need your last name," he grunted to Scorpius.
"It's uh- Anifur," he said, and Albus, despite being taken aback by the surname of choice, thought that he sold it rather well.
The still nameless landlord jotted it down quickly, then handed over the keys. "Room 8," he said, pointing towards a circular staircase that Albus hadn't even noticed before.
"Thank you," Scorpius said pleasantly, but the man had already turned away. He then shrugged. "Shall we?" he asked, nodding towards the staircase.
Morrison heaved a sigh. "Alright, but one at a time though, I reckon that thing looks like it'll break otherwise..."
Albus silently agreed, again last in line as he followed his friends to the second floor. Each of the steps gave a shriek of frailty as the three of them marched up individually. Once they were all on the same level, it next became the task of navigating the winding corridor that led them to their room. Albus noticed that the moth-eaten carpet underneath their feet was extremely squishy, and he actually gave a sigh of relief when they reached their room, indicated by a faded number "8" painted on it. Scorpius fiddled with the keys for a moment, and at the next second they'd squeezed their way through the door, Morrison in particular struggling due to the luggage on his back.
"Well this looks cozy," Scorpius said, barely able to contain his laughter.
It was an empty room, but for a lone bed and a single, small table in the corner. The floorboard was hardwood, and the first thing that Albus saw upon looking down at it was a trail of spiders scuttling by. He heaved yet another sigh, but said nothing.
"Well we should probably get set up, then," Scorpius continued, removing his own, lighter bag from his shoulders. "Start our search tomorrow, I guess? For whatever it is we're looking for?"
Albus nodded, doing his best to look stoic. Morrison made no such effort though.
"You know mate," he said in a sad tone, clamping him on the back, "I know I said I was behind you unconditionally and all, but I have to go back on that a bit. There's definitely a condition for me being here."
"What's that?" Albus asked, bracing himself for the worst.
Morrison gave a pouty expression. "I want the bed," he said, looking at it fondly.