Ok, a brief summary: The Tales of Knockturn Alley is an anthology of short stories with the common thread of the location. I wanted to do this in the seedier side of the HP universe because I just find it interesting. These were supposed to have been up on Friday April 1st for the release of Sin City (very good movie) but sometimes things just don't work out the way they are supposed to. Anyway, read...enjoy...review ; )
Disclaimer: Almost everything in this story is mine with the exception of the names ofKnockturn Alley, Borgin and Burkes, spells,and Death Eaters. Johnny is my creation for an original story, so please don't steal him, he likes his home.
The Death of Johnny Salem
The Tales of Knockturn Alley
JPx
DING!
The door was rigged to a bell. A muggle system of letting someone know a customer had entered the shop. Ingenious really, but oddly out of place in the magical world. The shop keeper, a portly balding man came to the front, his gray hair flying out of control to the sides in a classic horseshoe pattern. His shirt was buttoned half way up exposing a hairy gray chest. A thick gold chain baring a gold crucifix finished what this man obviously called 'fine taste'. He eyed the man who had entered his shop.
"You can't smoke in here ya bloody prick!" he exclaimed in a hoarse voice.
The newcomer smiled at him, a flashing smile, teeth perfect, and he took one last drag. Then he took the butt, smile fading into a grimace, he flicked the cigarette in the shopkeeper's face.
The butt exploded into a shower of red when it collided with the guy's forehead. He cursed under his breath, coming to his senses he grasped for his wand that resided in his pocket.
When he looked up a silver and black muggle contraption was staring back at him. Dealing in illegal wares in both the magical and mundane world he knew very well that this was a gun, and it would end his life before he could catch his breath.
While the shopkeeper stared hopelessly at the predicament in front of him, the brown haired man who couldn't be older than seventeen flicked his right hand and summoned the other man's wand to him.
"Jesus," he said in some kind of American accent, a hint of the south in him, "you fuckin' people still carry wands?"
The shopkeeper peeled his eyes off the barrel of the gun and into the steel blue eyes of the man, no wait, kid in front of him. Those eyes could haunt you.
"You sound American, you must carry one of those wandless things," he said, trying to regain some kind of composure.
"Ya think? Moron, it's not like there is an abundance of mystic animals that we can steal parts off of. And it's called an amp, like most things, we improved on what you guys set up." He replied.
"Improved? How do you mean?" the shopkeeper asked, trying to stall for time to find a way to escape.
"I could cast a killing curse and pull the trigger at the same time; no one would be able to figure out which one killed ya."
Sweat began to manifest itself onto the older man's brow. A panic invaded its way into his pupils. Helplessness washed over the features of his face.
The younger kid gave a half grin.
"Take whatever you want," the shopkeeper finally choked out, "the money's in the till, please, just don't kill me."
Switching tactics completely the kid of average build went into business mode, the gun still aimed at the old man's head, "I am looking for a crest, this crest would be silver with a capital N engraved into the middle. On either side of the letter would be an emerald and a bloodstone. This crest would be on a silver chain that is unbreakable." The kid cocked his head, "Have you seen this crest?"
The shopkeeper's panic flashed into confusion. What the boy wanted sounded familiar, but he had never seen it. "No, I have never heard of it!"
"Liar," the kid said in a low icy voice, he cocked the hammer.
"I have never seen it," the shopkeeper broke into tears, "rumors I have heard, but never seen it or heard where to find it!"
The kid stared at the man with those piercing blue eyes. Letting the seconds tick by, then he uncocked the gun. "Very well, if you manage to get your grubby little hands on it, I expect you to hold on to it for me."
The shopkeeper nodded his head weakly. As the kid turned to exit the shop curiosity overcame the man. "Wh-What's your name?"
"Johnny, Johnny Salem."
Johnny left the shop and lit up another cigarette with his Zippo. The clang of the metal closing somehow made him feel better. The sky was gray, a clap of thunder boomed in the distance.
"Fucking England," he muttered under his breath. He pulled his hooded leather coat that he had custom made closer to him. The coat hid his pistol, and his amp seemed to fade into the material. Johnny glanced up and down the place that was called an alley but was really a town. He needed a place to stay as he searched for the crest. Upon seeing what could be called a 'nice' place to stay he began to approach it.
On his way a guy bumped into him, "Watch it you tit!" the man said.
"Fuck you punk," Johnny replied.
The guy started to reach for his wand, with another familiar flick of the wrist Johnny held the man's wand.
"Give that back," the man said, desperation creeping into his voice.
"Alright," Johnny held the wand up and snapped it, then threw the two pieces to him, "there ya go."
Johnny started to walk again; he heard the footsteps running up behind him. At the last second to not get tackled Johnny spun, grabbed the man by the robes and tripped him to the ground. Johnny leaned down too his muggle gun sliding to his hand pointing at the guy's head in one smooth motion.
"You shoulda cut your loses," Johnny said as he squeezed the trigger.
"Whaddiya wan?" the old man asked behind his counter, unbreakable glass separating him from the customers.
"A room," Johnny said, like it should have been obvious.
"No shat you twat, 'ow long fer?"
"Indefinitely you mean old shit."
"Is figh gallins a nigh, need ten down," he replied with a glint in his eye.
"And what would that be in US dollars?"
"Like I woul know tha, git ta tha bank if ye ain't got no real money."
"Jesus Christ I just want a room. How about five hundred for the week. That's more money than you could make in a month."
"Hmm, al'righ al'righ, cash up front."
Johnny grimaced as he slid five one hundred dollar bills under the glass in the little concave allowing transactions.
"Thank ye," the old man said in his wheezy voice.
"Yeah, fuck you," Johnny said, not enjoying his day at all.
Johnny fished out the key to room 23, his home until he found the crest. He slipped it in and turned the key…and nothing happened. He turned the handle, the door was still locked. He tried the key again to have the same results. Finally losing patience he kicked the door…hard. It flew open much to his satisfaction.
He entered the room, pulled out a shrunken duffle bag from his pocket, re-enlarged it, and threw it by the closet. He fished in another pocket of his jacket and pulled out a cell phone. It was heavily modded to work around magic, as well as having a never ending battery life. It also would never lose reception, no mater where he was.
He punched in the numbers and waited.
"Yeah?"
"It's me," Johnny replied into his phone.
"Where ya at?" the gravely voice came through.
"Some shithole called the Silent Sleepaway."
"You find it yet?" the voice came through with a hard edge.
"I'm looking, a possible lead."
"You find it Johnny; you find it or don't come home."
"I won't let you down."
"You better not, I'm not sure your poor mother could stand another son to die."
Johnny let his silence acknowledge the threat.
The voice continued, "Call back when you have something to call about."
"Alright, I'll…" but the line was now dead. Johnny continued into the dead line, "Bye dad…"
Johnny left his hotel to continue his search for the Crest of Nadia. The crest his father was frantically searching the world for. Supposedly the crest would protect anyone who wore it from just about anything. His father was a Cowan (non-magical person/American slang) with a magical son. He was also a billionaire from conning and cunning his way through both worlds. After making many many enemies in two different worlds his dad was becoming paranoid.
Last semester Johnny learned about the Crest of Nadia in his European Magical History class. It had reportedly last been seen in Great Britain. Therefore, Johnny's dad thought it was a great idea for his son to spend his summer vacation abroad.
Johnny didn't like the idea at all, but when you have a ruthless billionaire father you usually don't turn down a request. So here Johnny was, in England, in bad weather, talking to rude people, standing outside a place called Borgin and Burkes, and hating every minute of hit.
With a small sigh he opened the door.
The man running the shop came out from a backroom. He was oily looking, almost slimy. Johnny hated that the man couldn't control his appearance. Johnny may have been a killer with no remorse, but at least he didn't look like one.
"I'm looking for a crest that…"
"I know what you are looking for. You won't find it here, and you won't find a lapdog to search for it for you here either," the man bit off.
"I take it someone has contacted you," Johnny said in a smirk. He liked having clout after only being here a day.
"Yeah, he's doing your searching. But as for me, you can get your little arrogant ass out of my store."
Johnny frowned. He didn't like being talked down to; he could easily dispose of the man behind the counter. Before he could act on his thoughts the man spoke again,
"And don't even think about pulling out your toy, or making any sudden movements with your hand. You pissed off some powerful people by killing that guy in the street. Try anything funny and I'll have them come down on you. Hard," the man finished emphasizing the word hard.
"Fine, I'm not trying to cause trouble," Johnny said almost gritting his teeth, "but if you see the crest before I do…"
"I'll let my friends know, since they want it too."
Johnny had to issue all of his self control not to kill the man and just walk outside. Once outside he still had to control himself to not burn the building down. If the man spoke the truth he now had enemies on his tail. If they were associates he'd probably be calling them right now. He had to move, he had to find the crest, and he had to do it now.
Once in a side alley Johnny heard several pops and cracks. He was right, the guy had called his friends and they were teleporting in. Johnny flicked his wrist and had the comforting pistol in his hand. With a flick of his other wrist he was invisible. He knew it would be safer to just leave, get back to his room and regroup. But he needed Intel first. If he had to go up against these people, he needed to know what he was going to be in for.
He silently made his way through the street. Some sort of cult or army type personnel had made their way to his location. They all shared the same type of uniform. Black cloaks, black masks, and silver around the eyes and mouth, they sort of resembled Rorschach tests.
Johnny cringed as they started to sweep the area. Half of them seemed to be looking for him, the rest started to sweep shops, obviously they wanted to find the crest first. Johnny cursed under his breath and started moving away from them, being careful to not run into anybody. Finally he was far enough away he teleported back to his room.
He grabbed his duffle bag and reshrunk it so it would fit in his pocket. He checked the rest of his pockets for extra clips and a couple of his knives. He had a bad feeling this would all end ugly.
After clearing his room Johnny was back on the street. The ghost faces (as he was calling them) were all down the road. Johnny not wanting the confrontation yet headed the other way. He would have to sweep every store in hopes of finding the crest first and then getting away. If luck was in his favor he could get away without too much more bloodshed.
He quickened his pace, not enough to give him away as someone in a rush, but fast enough to be called "purposeful". He needed an old resell shop; that would be the best bet. Down the almost abandoned road Johnny swept each window looking for anything that was old and that looked valuable. He grimaced at the second sex shop to enter his view.
Then at the end of the road a shop that held promise entered his view. It was across from a nondescript bar called The Gray Haven; it held many ancient artifacts within its main window. He quickened his pace as he recognized some of the ghost faces coming his direction.
He jerked the door open and entered. He noted that no one else was present at the time so he frantically started scanning the aisles, searching the walls. Many crests were present, many chains too, and then his training kicked in. Concentrating hard on what he needed he held up his right hand.
"Accio Crest of Nadia!" he called to the store.
To his satisfaction a small metal pendant zoomed from the bottom of a box that was lining the far wall. Johnny smiled at his luck. He was sure his whole summer would have been spent in England but this wonderfully odd town called an alley had blessed him today.
Now he needed to teleport home and he'd be home free. Not only free, but in the blessing of his father. Closing his eyes Johnny concentrated on his destination only to find his feet solidly on the floor.
Anti-Teleportation Protections, this definitely was not good. In a blink Johnny's gun was in his hand. He turned to see the door opening. The ghost faces had him. A stream of green light was speeding towards him. Instinctively he held up his hand.
The killing curse hit the crest. Johnny was thrown back ten feet into the wall behind him. The crest sparkled in his limp hand. The caster trying to kill him laughed with glee, this had been easier than they thought. The Death Eaters started towards the fallen boy, they needed the crest, and their master would have nothing but praise for them.
Before anyone could reach him the gun was up. Loud bangs echoed throughout the store as Johnny shot. He was weary from the blast and the resulting fall, but his hand was steady enough to hit at least one of his targets. Blood issued from the ghost face's head in a splatter on the wall behind him. Priceless artifacts now diminishing in value from the crimson offense.
Johnny counted quickly, thirteen enemies now. A rainbow of colors began to fly his way. Green, red, amber. He dodged, casting shielding spells along the way, he also used his amp or the crest to swat spells away that came too close.
"KILL HIM!" one of them shouted the command. Johnny smirked, he now knew the leader.
Johnny fired two more precise shots at the man who dodged behind a row displaying various weapons. He then fired an explosion hex towards the display of elegant swords and knives. The spell traveled so quickly none of the other ghost faces could help deflect the spell as it hit its target. Blades flew around the store nicking a few of the masked enemies he was facing.
Johnny grinned as the smoke cleared; the leader had been impaled by one of the blades.
"NO!" an anguished cry issued from behind the mask of another of Johnny's enemies. The scream had been female, there was probably a connection but Johnny didn't care. He looked at the woman and laughed.
It was odd really, the battle just stopped for a moment as Johnny laughed at the loss of his enemy. Provoking their emotions into a deep anger. This, Johnny knew, would force them into making mistakes. Then without warning a spell hit him from behind.
Pain. Pure and perfect pain coursed throughout his body. His entire nervous system seemed to catch on fire. It felt like a million knives cutting his skin at once, then being bathed in salt. Johnny knew the Cruciatus Curse; it was a favorite of his father's. He didn't know if he cried out during the torment, but when it was lifted it was hard to try and stand again. As he did he flicked his right wrist and sent a killing curse at another of his masked assailants.
None of the Death Eaters had expected that a boy so young could fight this well. The curse was the fastest that they had ever seen. It struck and another heap of black robes hit the ground. Johnny wasn't sure at this point if he could escape with his life, but if he wasn't he was going to take as many with him as he could.
Then he remembered the crest, and what powers it was supposed to hold. He started to slip it around his neck when he heard three people shout.
If the Cruciatus Curse was bad, three was unbearable. All along his body his skin did actually open in slits. Johnny's blood wept from his open wounds to the floor bellow him. Every muscle in his body constricted so tightly that if he did live he'd be sore for weeks, if not months. He would need months, if not years, of physical therapy just to walk straight again. His brain seemed to catch on fire, and he was sure he cried out this time.
"Give us the crest, and you might live another day," a muffled voice called to him.
Johnny weakly smiled as he summoned every ounce of magic that he could. Slowly he built it all up into his right hand. The five gems glowed with all the magic surrounding them now. He held his amp hand palm up, a little black ball of magic the size of a pearl was pulsating above it. None of the ghost faces looked like they knew what was going on. Suddenly one jumped as they recognized the spell.
"EVERYONE OUT NOW!" he called as he started to run for the door.
A small smile appeared on Johnny's face. A deep calm washed over his broken body. He slipped the necklace over his head, even if he knew nothing could save him now. Six Death Eaters were still in the building as a silent explosion rocked the neighboring buildings.
After all the debris had been cleared and everyone had been questioned by Aurors, nothing had been resolved. The mangled bodies of eight Death Eaters had been found in the rubble. Along with them the shop owner had been found in a back room. It appeared that he had been sleeping. Two Death Eaters were found outside of the building but still in the blast radius. The Daily Prophet had reported the strange happenings and even speculated on what had gone on, but no one was any closer to the truth.
To this day the Crest of Nadia has not been found. Mr. Salem in America still has parties searching for the priceless artifact nonstop. The billionaire was right to believe that his ex-wife couldn't handle another of her children's death. She was found dead two weeks after the events in Knockturn Alley, overdosed on sleeping pills.
Johnny Salem has a tombstone in a cemetery in East Texas. No one visits and flowers have never been left on his empty grave.
To this day the body has not been found.
