Chapter 10: One sweet step, and into hell we fall.
[A/N: Short and more background stuff. I wanted to try and explain how Alaric would approach two different types of people for similar things.]
"Oh, poor, poor Kreacher. What would mistress say if she saw Kreacher serving a filthy half-blood," rambled an old and gravelly voice in the darkness of Knockturn Alley. A small figure under a dark cloak walked slowly down the cobblestone road alone. A few eyes watched the figure's haggard walk, others listened to the ramblings of the crazed elf.
One wizard reached for his wand as his companion grabbed his wrist in warning. The two looked at each other as the second mouthed the word 'Black.' With that the two lowered their hoods even more, before ducking into a dark crevice between two shops.
"Oh poor, poor Kreacher," the house elf muttered. "How the Black house had fallen. Filthy, dirty, ugly half-blood master."
His cloak hid his face, but the disfigured and lumpy back of the house elf made it clear why the creature was walking so ghastly.
Reaching his destination, Kreacher opened the wooden door of The Spiny Serpent. Few looked at the elf before turning away, the frayed crest of the House Black stood warning to all. The fallen house held secrets and death for those who picked at it's remains.
Kreacher looked through the room before walking to the bar. He looked up at the wizard serving drinks, a pale man with a faint scar on his nose, before croaking out "George Smith."
The bartender nodded faintly at the elf before he pointed to a distant corner booth, one with no windows and a clear view of the door. Inside a drunk was passed out on the table, drool spilling from his mouth. His nondescript face and brown hair fit perfectly with his black pants and slightly-stained grey shirt. Over that, he wore a loose brown robe with a deep hood.
"Filthy little wizard makes me meet with wastes," murmured Kreacher as he limped over to the sleeping man. "Wakey little gutter trash."
The man sat up quickly, wand in hand before Kreacher made it to the booth.
"Well," said the man with no evidence of his previous drunken stupor, except the slight drool. "What would the House Black have with me?"
"You's George Smith?" asked Kreacher.
The man nodded; wand ready.
Kreacher snapped his fingers and a small bag fell onto the table, Galleons and Sickles bleeding out of the opening.
"Master wants you to answer questions," croaked Kreacher.
The man waved his wand at the bag, paused, then snatched the purse into his robes.
"I'm happy to help," said the man with a smile, showing off his yellow teeth.
Kreacher snapped his fingers again and a bundle of parchment landed on the table, then with a loud CRACK, the house elf was gone.
George waved his wand at the bundle before grabbing the parchment and shuffling out of the door and into Knockturn Alley. Without waiting he apparated with a small POP.
-XxXx-
George arrived outside a shack-like cabin in a dark forest. Entering he walked to a well-lit fire, passing rotten furniture and broken glass as he went. He grabbed a pinch of floo powder and was off once more.
Walking out of the fireplace he arrived at a similar cabin, though this one much nicer. The furniture was cared for and there was no broken glass on the ground. A few candles lined the walls and a child ran up to hug the man.
"Hey kid," he said with a large smile.
"You smell like smoke," said the boy with a hint of worry.
"Just the floo, trying to save on powder."
The boy just hugged him harder.
"Now run along, your Dad has some work to do," said George.
"Okay Dad," said the bow as he ran over to a small dog who was watching the pair from the coach. "Let's go to bed Batty." With that, the dog jumped off the couch and followed the child up the stairs.
George watched his son run to bed and reached for the purse he had just been given. Worry etched across his face.
"The Black family…"
He moved to the small kitchen and poured himself a glass of water, he hated alcohol, and a beef pie. He took the food to the couch and took out the parchment to read. It was a risk, getting involved with purebloods, but he did not see a way out. The house elf had just dropped it on him and apparated away.
As he read more it became less complicated and more worrisome. He would be providing information on the comings and goings of the… darker side of Wizarding Britain, and in return, he would be paid. Simple really, it was what he did sometimes, but also not. Tailing a guy was easy, spreading or absorbing rumours was also easy, but the things requested in the parchment were many.
The money was also tempting. Knut for your time, Galleon for your soul as they say. Taking a look at the purse, George decided to do it. Almost twenty Galleons as an introduction was a lot.
Reading the parchment again, George was sure. He would have to learn the coming and goings of Knockturn Alley, soak up rumours and pay for secrets. He would need to call in a few… friends, enemies would also fit some days, and have them dig around too. Finding Dark Wizards and werewolves was going to be the most dangerous, so he would pay others to do that.
Then he would write down everything and take it to some town called 'Plekton.' There he would find an old stump and… drop his findings down a hole? Next to the stump was a different hole that he could charm as he saw fit. There the buyer would drop his payment. There was no mention of price, but, if the introduction was anything to go off of, the buyer was generous.
Bit paranoid, if you asked George, but he would not complain. He would rather an overly subtly buyer than a brazen one.
As he finished his dinner, he took up the parchments and walked to bed. Passing his son's room, he paused for a minute but did not enter. He knew he was a bad father. He was off all day while the kid was alone at home. He could not wait for the boy to head off to Hogwarts, not because he did not want him around, mind you, but because he knew the boy was painfully lonely.
With a heavy sigh, George walked to his room and locked the parchments away. Tomorrow he would have to meet a few people and get to work. As he laid in bed he began to think of a gift for his son now that he could afford something nice. Perhaps an owl or a muggle toy.
-XxXx-
Felix Rosier having the first good day in a long time. Sure, he was not invited to the Malfoy's winter Solstice and that bloody Auror was watching him last week when he went to Knockturn Alley, but today, today was a great day. Plethoric Potion Provision Provider had sent him a letter and, though it was a new company, he was ready to meet them.
The Rosier assets were drying up and he only had a small brewing business to his name. It hardly covered his expenses and Malarky Malignments decided not to renew their contract a few months ago. With his father dying in full Death Eater garb he was not able to stop his family's image from being spoiled, what with him being a Hogwarts student at the time, and now he had a horrible time making Galleons.
His enemies cheated him and his allies left him to starve, the experience he gained from being cheated was no comfort.
Felix could not even find a wife. He was decent looking but broke. A pureblood who was held up as a shining example of bigotry and hate. Though today he received a letter hoping to do business.
A new company trying to save money by working with a small potion producer, Felix thought. He would take what he could and when they realized they did not need to work with a Death Eater, he would ruin their image. He was getting good at that last one. Malarky Malignments learned that quickly.
-XxXx-
Felix wore a quality robe over a traditional suit. He looked like a dashing pureblood with an eye for business. His hair was held in a classic taper with conservative use of Wizarding Sculpting Gel and he wore a plain pair of glasses.
He Floo'd to the Plethoric Potion Provision Provider office at 9 a.m. prompt without a speck of dust clinging to his shirt. The office was small, yet well decorated, and stood in a small town called Plekton.
When Felix arrived, he was greeted by an older witch in a fine green robe.
"Mrs. Graeme, a pleasure," said Felix hiding his surprise.
"Mr. Rosier, welcome to Plethoric Potion Provision Provider," the witch said evenly.
"I have to admit I am surprised to see you here," said Felix. "I thought you worked for the Black family?"
"I do," she said.
"And who would I be working with?" Felix probed.
"Me."
Felix smiled, he had no idea if there was a head to the Black family or if this was just some project made by the family's financial managers. He would not ask, again, but he was now a touch cautious.
"Would you like some coffee?" asked Mrs. Graeme as she began to lead Felix to an office.
Felix looked around to see no other staff, so he simply said "I'm okay for now."
Entering the two sat down and Mrs. Graeme jumped right into negotiations. She wanted to have the Rosier family brew potions in mass for Plethoric Potion Provision Provider. Felix would sell the potions in bulk, and then Plethoric Potion Provision Provider would sell the potions individually at a profit. Standard principle.
What the two had to figure out was how much the Rosier would, and could, produce and what price would they sell it at. They talked for an hour to hammer out the details before Felix returned home. Mrs. Graeme would have a contract made while Felix inspected his brewing company.
A week later the two met once again to go over the contract with their lawyers. Felix had one on retainer who had received an early copy so the meeting did not take long.
The next month Felix was happy to see a small pile of Galleons laying inside his Gringotts vault, while Mrs. Graeme was happy to receive a hundred potions. 10 Skele-Gro, 10 Anti-Paralysis potions, 20 Antidotes to Common poisons, 10 Antidotes to Uncommon poisons, 20 Blemish Blitzers, 10 Blood-Replenishing potions, 5 Burn-Healing pastes, 5 Calming draughts, 5 Cough potions, and 5 Draughts of Peace.
A month later Mrs. Graeme received another shipment of one hundred potions and Felix received another small pile of Galleons. It was a lot, but nothing major for him. It was just a bit more than he had made working with Malarky Malignments. That was why he was so excited when Mrs. Graeme requested another meeting with him that month.
When he arrived again at the small office, Felix was dressed just as impeccably. He had a lighter robe this day and his hair was freshly cut. Mrs. Graeme wore a deep blue robe that hung conservatively.
"Welcome, Mr. Rosier," the woman greeted.
"Good day," Felix said as he followed her into the office once more.
This time the conversation was quick. Mrs. Graeme explained that she needed a few more potions in the next shipment. Potions like the Erumpent potion, which was also called the Exploding Fluid, and Weedosoros, a poison. Neither of them was illegal so Felix readily accepted.
Another month passed and there was another meeting between Felix Rosier and Mrs. Graeme. This time Mrs. Graeme hinted that she needed potions that may be frowned upon to sell. They were still legal to brew, technically, but the ministry frowned on the sale and distribution of the potions.
Felix accepted.
Months would pass and the orders would change until Felix was secretly selling as many illegal potions as he was selling legal ones. He loved it. He was no longer losing money each month and he could start to buy back some of his pawned family heirlooms.
It was not until Alaric's fourth year that Felix began to sell small pieces of information, Mrs. Graeme had shown interest in the Chamber of Secrets opening and what the Purebloods thought. Felix was still welcome in the backroom meetings so he was happy to share, for a price.
In Alaric's fifth year Felix was passing over pages of parchment to Mrs. Graeme, each filled with dirty little secrets. Who was working with whom, who owned what and how the 'old crowd' was reacting one Harry Potter moving into his God Father's home?
But Sirius Black's trial and release was a story for another day.