The slave trade is essentially one of the richest branches of the Black Market. The Black Market deals in, obviously, slaves. Illegal creatures, magical or not, fur trade, drugs and dark items are only some of the things it deals in…there are other branches, for the more neurotic person, but we shall not delve into those pits.
Lord Dietrich was the head of the Slave trade in Eastern Europe, especially Germany, where he was based. He dealt out who would work for the slave trade, who wanted to buy from him, where to get the slaves, etc. He was not necessarily a cruel man; he was just cold and a true businessman. He steered people without actually steering them, and he had a unique way to deal with obedience.
Dietrich's business did not beat or starve his slaves unnecessarily. Only when it was called for. The children were usually orphans, disowned family members or children mentally or physically ill. The orphans were his main business. He sent out his men to visit orphanage houses to pick out the children that fit the guidelines for his trade. The mentally ill took longer to deal with, but he usually sorted them out in the end…Varick often said about Dietrich, that even if he was a slave trader, he still had a soft touch for children, and always saw potential for recovery…never put them down, he says. Who knows why this was.
Today would be the day to auction off his new batch. Auctioning was pretty simple. Fliers would be put out on all black market areas, like Knockturn Alley and letters sent to any significant Black Market traders or Black Magic Practitioners who might be interested. This would attract the crowds…and the money.
Lord Dietrich smiled sadly. It had been a joy raising these children…his smiled widened. He had put new terms on the contracts for buying slaves. When you bought a slave, there were still rights of the child that the owner had to follow. The Head of that particular branch oversaw these contracts and the terms in them to ensure their hard work didn't go to waste.
He got up and went to the large window in his office. He gazed out over the endless fields and observed a bird soar by…freedom…since he was little; he had come to the decision that true freedom was anarchy. Freedom, was to be free with everything, to have no worries, yet how could that be, when humans were naturally social creatures, even love bore chains.
He felt the air change slightly in the office as the door was opened.
"Yes, Gotz?"
Gotz was his grey-haired, owlish secretary. He was a very neat man; he often spent his spare time meticulously ordering everything out, down to the flow of the curtains to the shape of the pencils in his office, ordering them by size.
"Ze auction is starting soon sir."
" And who has showed up?"
" It appears our English Dark Lord friend is there."
Dietrich smiled. " Tom's a bastard, but you can always rely on him to be prompt."
Gotz wisely said nothing and waited for Dietrich to give him new instructions apart from being his personal organiser.
Dietrich cricked his neck and then, taking up his white fur coat, proceeded out of the office to go outside to the carriages. Gotz mechanically locked up the office first with 3 keys and then various spells, and then followed his master outside.
"Lord, err…?"
"Yes, Quirrel?"
They were quietly waiting in a small abandoned house and wrapped up in fur coats.
"Who are we waiting for and why are we waiting?"
Voldemort stopped pacing and gave Quirrel a sharp look. Quirrel blushed and shut his mouth with a click. Voldemort sighed.
"Because Dietrich invited me 'here'. Dietrich is the Head of the Slave trade for Eastern Europe, by the way." Voldemort added, noticing Quirrel's confused look. " For someone who prides himself on his knowledge of the dark arts, you don't know much do you?"
"Yes well…I was never well introduced to the Black Market…" Quirrel blushed realising he had just retorted to his Master, and hung his head.
Voldemort smirked. He then turned his head towards the window and spotted the plain carriage coming towards them. He sighed and nodded to Quirrel, who jumped up and proceeded to neaten himself up.
The door opened, letting in a cold gust of wind and a debris of white and then it closed. In stepped tow mean, one short, with white hair, and large owlish eyes, the other marginally tall, with cold grey eyes with blonde/brown hair, going grey at the roots. The tall one smiled pleasantly to Voldemort and bowed his head slightly. The shorter man followed suit. Voldemort returned the gesture.
"Why did you call me out all the way here?" Voldemort snapped.
The shorter man's eyes bulged and he sneezed. Quirrel winced, but the tall man laughed.
"Always the one to get to the point. Tom." Voldemort rolled his eyes.
"Always the one to indulge in unnecessary pleasantries, Dietrich." Voldemort retorted.
Dietrich laughed again and then proceeded to the one battered chair, turned it around and then sat quite casually on it. The shorter man followed and sat on another chair behind his master.
"Ok, we'll skip the pleasantries. You know of what trade I deal with, yes?" Voldemort nodded slightly.
"Well, I want you to 'splash out' a little money for me." Voldemort scowled, the expected reaction.
"Dietrich, you know I can barely afford to live with the little money I have." Quirrel's eyebrows raised at this little revelation. He had always thought his master was quite rich, being a Dark lord and all.
"Indeed? But I do have quite an interesting selection of slaves you might find quite…'interesting'." Voldemort's brows furrowed, and his gaze sharpened.
"What are you getting at here Dietrich?"
"I prefer to keep it a surprise, but I'm sure that it will catch your eye." Voldemort's brain was already working, trying to sum all the clues he had to try to figure out what Dietrich was eagerly pointing to.
"And this what you cam out, all the way here, to tell me? There's also the fact that I already mentioned, I have-"
"I could pay for it!"
All heads turned to Quirrel, who blushed but returned their gaze defiantly.
"Ah yes, Quirrel…I suspect you're half-blood, but grew up in a magical environment…your father was quite eager to teach the dark arts to his children, as I remember." Quirrel choked and stared dumbfounded at Dietrich's knowledge of his rather quiet family.
"It's settled then. While there will be temporary ownership of the slave to Quirrel, the papers will be sorted and the slave will be handed to you, Tom." Dietrich said with an air of finality.
Voldemort never the one to back down glowered at Dietrich.
"What makes you think I'll buy the slave anyway?"
"Call it a hunch?" Dietrich replied with a mysterious smile, before beckoning to his servant and exiting through the door he had entered.
It was a few seconds later before anyone in the room reacted.
"Quite an intriguing character…if I say so myself…" Quirrel murmured.
"Don't mention this to anyone, got it?" Voldemort hissed dangerously.
"Err…mention what sir?" Voldemort just gave him a pointed look, and Quirrel immediately knew what he was referring to.
He gulped.
"Never even though of it sir…" He glanced at his watch and then muttered, "if we don't get going soon we'll be late for the auction…"
"You're my babysitter now?" Voldemort snapped, mind elsewhere.
He strode out of the house in the hopes of repairing his rather damaged dignity, Quirrel trailing behind him, and they set off in the carriage Dietrich and rented for them to use.
