She wandered very briefly down the cobbled-street. The stones here were not so worn as those of Diagon Alley where people bustled about constantly. Nor was it as dirty. It looked as if the entire street had been devoid of human life for centuries. It was hard to believe that there were human beings inside these shops, most of which were advertised as open. Hermione glanced inside the store windows as she passed, feeling her apprehension growing. This could be potentially dangerous, of course. Perhaps those in Diagon Alley didn't recognize her, but those in here had histories. Those here were not exactly fine, upstanding citizens of the Magical Republic. But it was important that she find this book, and she knew it. Well, it wasn't important to many people other than herself, really… actually, instead of being proud of her, every member of the Order would, most likely, first scold Hermione for sticking her nose where it didn't belong once she had discovered the location of the horcrux.
If she found it.
If she found this book.
Hermione sighed, growing edgy as she didn't see the store anywhere in site. Perhaps the librarian was wrong, perhaps there was no store… perhaps the librarian lied to her. Her unwillingly ground her teeth, something her parents had scolded against for ages. She'd been had, Hermione decided, seeing no little bookshop owned by a Lebanese man. She'd definitely been had. What a wretched trip, what a wretched idea. How silly to come here into this alley, being leered at without any book, and now to have to…
She paused in her tracks, glancing up.
"Clarkman & George," Hermione read quietly from the tattered sign, swinging in the faint summer breeze. She frowned and glanced in the store window, seeing not only books but every dark object imaginable. It looked to her like a General Store of the Dark Arts, probably selling candy and toys to even the little ones… Hermione smiled faintly and slipped into the little nook alongside the building's frame, crouching purposefully down to the ground.
"Marvelous, marvelous…" she murmured, feeling rather proud of herself. Hermione dug out of her brown tote bag a black shawl she'd taken from her mother and a pair of boyish sunglasses, taken from her Father. Well, her costume selection wasn't grand… but Hermione was smart enough to know she couldn't just waltz into a shop on Knockturn Alley and buy something what with it being abundantly obvious that she was a non-evil teenager.
Humming softly, Hermione wrapped her head in the shawl just as she had seen her muslim neighbours do more than once. Having attended mosque and youth group celebrations with their daughters many times as a little girl, she'd learned how to cover her most important features and yet still look like regular human being and not someone who had gotten in a fight with a blanket and lost. Topping off the look, Hermione slipped her Father's sunglasses on her face, the black lenses shielding her eyes, and took a deep, steadying breath.
Okay, so she was obviously trying to hide her identity, but who on this alley wasn't? For all they knew she could be… the daughter of an affluent Slytherin graduate. Or perhaps of a wealthy ambassador or… well, any number of things. But, certainly, they should have no reason to suspect her of anything other than what she was… right?
Confidentally, Hermione swung her tote over her shoulder, cleared her throat, and emerged from the nook looking like a 1950's Hollywood star, trying desperately to hide her identity. She knew it, but there was no shame in these times when everyone one of these dark wizards looked frightened to be seen in Knockturn Alley. And, with one deep breath, she stepped inside.
Inside the shop, Hermione felt as if her lungs would explode almost immediately from the horribly concentrated level of dust in the air. It assaulted her the second she stepped foot inside, giving way to soft but troubled coughing that had the wispy old man behind the counter sending her confused stares.
"Good… morning." She managed out before another great few coughs took her, Hermione placing her hand over her mouth and trying to appear natural.
"Good morning." The old main replied without any feeling, his hands steadied evenly on the glass counter top, watching her with two suspicious blue eyes.
"I'm just… I'm sorry… looking for some books. A set of books, actually." Hermione pat her chest lightly, regaining control of her body. She glanced off to the side ruefully at the dust visibly floating in the air, as if it should learn its lesson next time. It didn't respond to her looks, of course, but a middle-aged man seated near the window in a comfortable chair with a copy of the "Daily Prophet" seemed to catch her glance, looking up. Hermione offered him a cautious smile, but then realized perhaps smiling was not evil enough, and it quickly turned to a grimace as she swung back around to the old man. He was still staring at her, waiting for instruction, one balding brown perked suspiciously up.
"They're… genealogy." Hermione explained cautiously, coming up to the counter, resting her hands on it as the man did. He glanced down at them, staring at her fingers rather than her face. Feeling awkward, Hermione slowly withdrew her hands, not thinking twice about the muggle candy machine flowered ring she wore on her right hand, a gift from the next-door neighbour's little son. "On the Black family, please."
The man's head shot back up to her face at these instructions. His weathered features suddenly looked amazingly alert and calculating as his deep eyes seemed to scan right through to her soul, analyzing every one of her moral values.
"Why?" He croaked after the body scan was apparently complete.
"Erm, well…" Hermione shifted feel cautiously, unable to contain her nervousness much longer as the man clearly suspected something of her. The man seated by the window too appeared curious now, having raised his eyes to look at her there by the counter. Hermione could feel her cheeks burn under their eyes, feeling so little and insignificant now with these men ogling at her.
"It's for… a family tree." She explained with a soft smile, looking up at the old man through her sunglasses. He smirked softly and Hermione thought briefly that she had him roped in. A family tree, how sweet and sensible…
"Do you think I'm stupid?" The old man replied softly in the same happy tones that Hermione perceived through her voice.
"I'm… sorry?" She questioned, her smile failing.
"Do you think I'm stupid?" The man repeated, smirking now. "You come into my shop… in your silly shawl. And sunglasses. Asking me for my collection on the Black Family… without even a reason. Are you daft, girl? Do you honestly believe I'll just hand anyone my products? A family tree… certainly, in these times. And this ring… this ring…"
Hermione jumped, absolutely startled as the old man seized her arm, yanking it towards him with a forcefulness one would not expect from a 60-something kind old man. No, he looked like he could be her sweet grandfather, but the look in his eyes was anything but sweet as the man smirked evily, twisting her wrist in his grasp.
"What's this? Flowers? Plastic? Looks like it's come from a muggle candy machine… you ridiculous girl."
"Let go." Hermione commanded him tearfully as he twisted her wrist in his grasp, "Please, let go of me…"
"I'm sorry, why should I? Coming here into my shop, obviously some little spy wench… ridiculous outfit for a ridiculous, foolish girl!" The old man released her wrist, giving way to her gracious sigh, but was then quick to snap the glasses right off of her face, revealing her features to him.
"A teenager!" He declared triumphantly, Hermione's father's sunglasses in his hand. He laughed derisively as the man who had been seated in the chair by the window came up from behind, grabbing Hermione swiftly around the arms. She made a noise of fright, attempting to kick him from in front, trying desperately to free herself. The man, however, was strong, and only increased his hold on her the more she kicked.
"Let go!" Hermione cried, ceasing to kick but glaring at the old man fiercely, dropping her charade. "I said… let me go." She repeated more levelly, radiating power from every pore in her body.
"You're so commanding, aren't you? I'll let you go, of course… but you should know how stupid it was of you to come in here. I don't think you know what you're getting into sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. Hell, I don't even know what you're up to… but I do know one thing. Next time you come in here, your head goes up there, got it…?" The old shop keeper gestured to a wall of jarred shrunken heads, all bent into horribly disfigured expressions.
"Got it." Hermione replied stiffly and, as the man began to drag her out, spit on the shoes of the old man. He laughed derisively, seizing her hand and ripping the ring off forcefully.
"I'll be keeping this then… thank you." The man smirked, tossing the little ring carelessly into the air as the man from the chair dragged her out, shoving Hermione forcefully into the street.
"And stay out," he smirked, a second later tossing her father's sunglasses out onto the cobbles with her. One more self-righteous look, and the door closed behind him, shutting Hermione out forever. Or so they thought.