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Chapter 2: Knockturn Alley

"Even in our darkest hour, our farthest depths, we struggle to rise above."

Early December, 2008

Borgin and Burkes by daylight was not much to look at. Though one of the largest establishments along Knockturn Alley, the shop was still small and cluttered, stuffed full of dark artifacts for sale. From books to shrunken heads, potions to slithering creatures, the store breathed of sinister intent and danger.

Pulling the hood of his cloak down over his features, the blonde stepped into the dingy shop, ignoring the musky repugnant odor that filled his nostrils and allowed his eyes a moment to adjust. A creaking groan of a sound resonated from the floorboards as he shifted out the way of the door, permitting it to close behind him with a soft thump.

The chill of the shop curled around him, seeping into his robes in a way that the temperature outside had yet to do. Not surprising, really, with the number of dark objects around him, some of which surely pulled their power from external sources. He could all but feel their menacing force pushing against his magic, tendrils of power mixing together and compelling him forward, closer. He resisted the urge.

"Ah, you're here then."

Draco blinked, turning to the scratchy voice, face impossibly blank despite the urge to grimace at the man who stood before him. Borgin, proprietor to the shop, was not an impressive man to look at in the least. Slightly oily and hunchbacked, the man's smile was truly gruesome to behold. Blackened and yellow teeth protruded from his mouth, looking as though he had sucked on a lump of margarine, and his face distorted itself into something that vaguely reminded the blonde of a vulture waiting for its prey to expire.

"Mr. Borgin," he acknowledged the man, his own voice rough, "I trust everything is arranged?"

The man's face twisted again, smile curling around the edges. "Yes, yes, everything is perfectly arranged."

"Very good—"

"However," Borgin cut in, yellow teeth flashing in the dimly lit store, "there is a small matter that we need to…ah…discuss."

Draco didn't fight the grimace that arose this time. He'd been expecting this, almost from the very beginning. "And, what is it that we need to discuss, Mr. Borgin? I believe that we've already covered everything of importance these last few days."

Borgin shook his head, graying wisps of greasy hair moving. "Ah, no sir. There is the small point of my…payment."

An eyebrow rose on its own accord, though Borgin himself didn't see it because of his cloak hood. "I believe we've already discussed your payment many times, Mr. Borgin. Last week I was under the impression that all accounts had been settled."

The proprietor shook his head again, swaying his body to the side for a moment as though he was pained to even bring up such a subject. His hands, for which had been curled to his chest, bony and pale, unfurled slightly, drifting in the air in such a manner that Draco was sure it was practiced. "They were, of course, until, you understand, I realized that some…compensations…must be made. This is an extremely delicate matter, one that should the Ministry hear of…"

Greedy bastard. "I see." Greedy stupid bastard.

The man gave a solemn nod, once again seemingly pained to bring up it. "Yes, sir. I'm sure you understand that were the Ministry to start nosing around here, asking questions, ones that I cannot fully answer. Well… "

"Of course, Mr. Borgin, I believe we understand each other." Reaching into his robes, carefully keeping them closed so the other man would not see beyond them, he tugged a leather purse from one of his many pockets, hearing the clink of galleons and sickles. He held the small pouch out to the man. "Perfectly."

Another nod and the man palmed the pouch, slipping into one of the pockets of his dirty robes. He smiled, oily features flushing. "Everything is prepared, if you will follow me."

Turning on his heels, the hunchback made his way to the back of the store, weaving his way through the dark artifacts, Draco close on his heels.

"Have all the modifications been made to my specifications?" He asked, moments later as he carefully avoided the outreaching hand of something that, as close as he could tell, resembled a demented monkey with no fur.

"Of course, the last of the modifications were completed not an hour ago by myself and no other." Borgin replied, stopping in front of an open doorway that lead through to, what Draco expected to be, the storage room, before he turned. "You may check, if you wish."

Draco gave a short nod, eyes scanning the darkness as he stepped through the doorway, drawing his wand.

"Lumos."

The darkness lifted and the small room became awash with light from his wand point, illuminating that it was, indeed, a storage room.

"It's just there, in the middle of the room, sir. Everything else has been moved out, save for the tables." Borgin's voice came from behind him, fraying on his nerves ever so slightly.

Draco simply nodded, moving further into the room. Borgin hadn't lied. Nothing was in the room save for empty wooden tables that were pressed along the walls, out of the way, and there, in the exact centre of the room, was what he came for.

"You realize that if you have lied to me, Borgin, that I will kill you." His voice was low, gravely even, and he did not have to look back to know that man was shuffling on his feet nervously, greedy hands clutching at the pocket which held the money.

"I…know."

Draco nodded again, long legs carrying him forward to circle the object. It didn't take long for him to mutter his way through a variety of spells and incantations to make sure that the man had not lied; had made every modification that was requested.

Every alteration was done to a tee and there was not a single reason for him to believe that man had deceived him. This meant there were only a few things left to do. A few very important things left to do.

Stepping back through the doorway, Draco looked down at the man, gray eyes flashing beneath his hood. "You did very well, Mr. Borgin. I trust that you spoke of this to no one?"

Borgin flinched, shaking his head. "Of course not, sir."

"Excellent."

With a whip of robes, the blonde turned on his heels, weaving his way back through to the front of the store, single mindedly ignoring all the tempting dark magic around him, wand still in hand. Once there, he cast a quick glance through the dirty window, noting that not a single person could be seen.

Good. Very good.

Lifting his wand, he pointed it at the entrance, muttering a spell, one that would ensure that he would not be interrupted any time soon:

"Colloportus."

The tell-tale squelch of the door sealing was all that could be heard in the shop as he quietly made his way back to the shop keeper, who was looking nervously between him and the now sealed front door, something akin to alarm on his features.

"Sir—" The hunchback began, bony fingers twitching.

"You've done me a great service, Mr. Borgin." Draco murmured, glancing through the open doorway. "A great service."

"Ah…well…it was my…ah, pleasure…" The man floundered.

He turned, a forbidding smile slowly quirking his lips. "I'm sure it was, Mr. Borgin. However," he began calmly, using the same turn of phrase as the man before him had just minutes ago. "There is a small matter that we need to discuss."

Panic flashed in the other man's dark eyes, oily face turning ashen around the edges. "Is there? I…had thought everything was in order."

"Oh, yes." Draco lifted his wand again, pointing it straight at the panicked man before him, smile twisting grimly. "Everything is in perfect order."

"Then – then, what?" Hands fluttered up, clutching once again at the pocket the leather pouch was in.

"Forgive me, Mr. Borgin," Draco murmured, "but this is for the best…"

"B-b-best—?"

"Avada Kedavra."

Early Decemeber, 1998

The rain was beginning to peter out. As was the crowd within the Three Broomsticks, most of the groups choosing to leave while there looked to be a small reprieve from the winter storm. It didn't look as though it would last long, however.

Harry could already see the clouds fluffing and thickening, slowly preparing for a flurry of snow that was sure to come. He sighed, bringing the mug of now cold butterbeer to his lips, gulping down the last of its contents. He needed to go soon.

End Notes:

1. Colloportus: "collio" L. to bind + "portus" L. door.
A spell to seal a door, makes an odd squelching noise.