James didn't have a whole lot of luck at the Quality Quidditch Supply shop. The shop's proprietor offered him a much smaller credit than he was hoping for his Windrider 3000. Disappointed, he watched as Albus was shown several broomstick maintenance kits by an eager store clerk. In the end, neither of them purchased anything and they shuffled out into the chilly winter air.

"He only offered me one-hundred galleons for it," James complained to his brother. Albus looked incredulous.

"I think he was trying to rip you off. He had three used Windriders in worse condition that he was selling for five-hundred galleons a piece." James looked thoughtful for a moment. Albus guessed he was wondering how much Cesar Sutherland would pay for it.

"Come on," James ordered finally, "Let's go over to Uncle George's shop. Maybe Teddy's working. I'll ask him what he thinks." They crossed the alley and headed up to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, which was experiencing considerably higher volume since its primary customers were all out of school on holiday.

"Well, look who it is!" their Uncle George exclaimed jovially from behind the counter, "James Potter, I hear you're out looking for work. Trying to quite school already?" The boys laughed.

"No, sir. I'm saving up money for a new broomstick," James explained, helping himself to a chocolate spider from the sample tray, then yelping in pain as it took a large bit out of his thumb. He dropped it on the table and Uncle George smashed it with his fist, revealing a sweet-smelling, pink nougat inside. James picked up the crushed spider and popped it into his mouth with a grin.

"What's wrong with the broomstick you've got there?" Uncle George demanded.

"It's insufficient for my needs," James explained haughtily.

"And what needs might that be?"

"The need to fly faster than Scorpius Malfoy," James explained. Uncle George shook his head disappointedly.

"Now really, James!" he cried, "What sort of talk is that? A great Quidditch player can fly brilliantly on a piece of driftwood if he has to! The broomstick has nothing to do with it!"

"But…" James protested but his uncle wasn't having any of it.

"The broomstick you have there is certainly better than any of the ones we had when we were your age. Do you think your granddad pulled those things out of his ear?" James looked down sheepishly. He hadn't expected to receive a talk down, but he should have seen it coming. His parents also hadn't agreed at first when they were given the opportunity to purchase the broomstick half-price from one of his mother's friends. His mother had grown up playing on broomsticks that ranged from low-end to downright shabby and for the most part, followed her brother's philosophy that it was the skill and talent that made the Quidditch player, not his equipment. His father, on the other hand, had been more reasonable about the matter. He'd always had a nice broomstick to play on and as they could afford it, he didn't see any reason why his son shouldn't have whatever sort of broomstick he wanted. Finally, they reached a compromise. James would be allowed to have the broomstick as long as he was willing to work hard to earn it.

"It's James' money," Albus spoke up suddenly, "Why can't he spend it on a new broom if he wants to?" His uncle gave him an unpleasant look.

"Because, if he can't fly straight on a broom as good as this one, then he doesn't deserve to beat Slytherin, that's why! But that's only my opinion. The little squirt is correct. You've a right to spend your own money however you like." James grinned.

"You're just angry because you've lost a paying customer!" His uncle snorted in response.

"I need to get back to work," he told them, "Teddy!…Oliver!…watch this lot and make sure they don't steal me blind!" The boys laughed as their uncle disappeared into the office behind the counter. Teddy popped into place beside them.

"Hello Potters!" he greeted cheerfully, "What brings you here today?" James pulled the Windrider 3000 from his shoulder and showed it to Teddy.

"How much would you give me for this broom?" James asked. Teddy looked confused.

"We don't buy broomsticks here…" he began to explain.

"I know, I know…" James interrupted, "But if you wanted to buy a broom, how much do you think this one would be worth?"

"Quality Quidditch Supplies only offered him 100 galleons for it," Albus informed him. Teddy furrowed his brow.

"Oh, you could get more than that. Much more, actually. But, James, why on earth are you selling it?"

"Because Slytherin creamed us in the last Quidditch match!" came a voice from above them. The three looked up to discover Uncle George's twin sons, Oliver and Raymond dangling from a precariously high ladder, dusting and sorting the stock on the uppermost shelves.

"Thanks to our little Judas there," acknowledged the other twin as he pointed at Albus in mock accusation. Albus rolled his eyes. He'd reckoned his family would be calling 'traitor' until they buried him. They might even scrawl it on his tombstone.

"I'm looking for a faster model," James explained to Teddy.

"Maybe the problem isn't the broomstick…" teased Oliver. James rolled his eyes again and faced them with his hands on his hips.

"Alright, give me a hard time," he said defiantly, "But then don't complain when I can't catch snitches fast enough to keep our lousy chasers from giving the game away!" The twins looked at each other grimly and Teddy laughed.

"Maybe if you two weren't banned from the pitch for life due to that prank you played in your second year…" The twins grinned mischievously.

"Hey, anyone can play in Quidditch robes," Raymond laughed.

"Yeah, it but it takes real dedication to play in your skivvies!" added Oliver.

"You're both lucky that Slytherin girl's parents didn't sue your parents into indentured servitude."

"I don't know why they would," Raymond argued, "She looked good in her undies! I think everyone was very appreciative."

"And furthermore, how am I supposed to keep up with Malfoy when he's got a professional grade broomstick?" James continued, still bent on justifying himself.

"Well," Teddy responded, "I wouldn't take any less than two-hundred, fifty for this one. You'd be a fool." He handed the broomstick back to James who slung it across his shoulder.

Meanwhile, Albus had caught sight of a curious display in the next room. He headed toward it to investigate, until his face slammed into some invisible barrier, knocking him backward into a display of miniature gnomes that screeched indignantly at his recklessness. The twins high-fived each other jubilantly.

"We never get tired of that!" they chorused.

"What is it?" Albus exclaimed as he clumsily tried to replace the gnome display.

"Fake doorways," Teddy explained, "One of our newest items." Albus grinned in approval, despite his soreness.

"How much?"

"Two galleons for one, ten for a pack of six," Teddy exclaimed.

"Here," called Oliver as he dug through a basket of broken items that was hanging from the ladder and tossed two packages to James.

"Consider these a free sample," he said.

"Are you kidding me?" Teddy exclaimed, "You two are trying to get me sacked!"

"No, it's fine," Oliver assured him, "We had to mark them out-of-stock because Raymond farted on them." James snorted with laughter and handed them to Albus, who pocketed them. Teddy shook his head, but he couldn't help but smile. It was a wonder George Weasley was able to make any money at all with the three of them working there.

Once out in the cold air again, they sat down on a bench. Albus explored the bag of tricks he'd acquired and James examined his broomstick thoughtfully.

"I wonder how much Sutherland meant to offer me," he thought aloud.

"Maybe we could find him and see," Albus suggested, "Where is this place?"

"Not far from here," James answered cryptically as he pulled the card Sutherland had given him from his pocket.

"Where?" Albus persisted.

"Down a ways, past Gringott's."

"Past Gringott's? The Alley ends at Gringott's."

"Well, it isn't on Diagon Alley exactly, but it's pretty close." Albus folded his arms.

"How close?" he demanded.

"It's just one street over, actually."

"Knock-turn Alley?" Albus exclaimed in disbelief, "We can't go there!"

"Why not? It's barely a ten minute walk."

"Dad would kill us!"

"He never said we can't go down Knock-turn Alley."

"He specifically said for us to stay in Diagon Alley."

"No," James argued slyly, "He specifically said he would prefer if we stayed in Diagon Alley. And, if you'll recall the context of that conversation, we were discussing going to a muggle park and he said he didn't want us wandering around the city alone. We wouldn't be wandering the city. We'd just be visiting one specific shop on one specific street that is only one block over from where he left us."

"But Knock-turn Alley is…" Albus stopped. He'd never actually been to Knock-turn Alley before, but he knew it had a reputation for being a seedy part of town where all manner of underhanded activity went on.

"How many people do you know who've been attacked or killed in Knockturn Alley." Albus shrugged.

"None," he admitted, "But most of my acquaintances don't really go to places like that." James snorted.

"Oh, come off that right now!" he said irritably and elbowed Albus in the ribs, "Slytherin! Probably everyone in your house goes there. Your best mate, Malfoy, probably goes three times a week! They might all be there at this moment having some sort of criminal get-together and wondering what on earth is keeping Albus!" Albus gave his brother a shove and James shoved him back so hard that he landed on the curb. Albus got to his feet indignantly and glared at his brother.

"Look, obviously Sutherland is there all the time, if he's got a job there. And what about that other kid that's in your house? His dad owns the place! If they can come and go, then it's probably perfectly safe."

"But, they're older than we are. Roth is a seventh year and Sutherland said he's engaged to be married."

"That doesn't mean anything. Pure-bloods get engaged before they're potty trained."

"That's not true!" Albus cried.

"Sure it is," James insisted, "Their parents have them betrothed as soon as possible, so they can ensure their bloodline stays pure. Everyone knows that." Albus sighed. He could tell there was no point in arguing any further. James had made up his mind.

Somehow, the winter air seemed a little sharper in Knockturn Alley. The street was narrower and even though the buildings weren't especially tall, the entire thoroughfare seemed to be in some sort of gloomy shadow. The witches and wizards that were going about their business there seemed cold and didn't smile or make eye contact as they passed. Despite James' contention that the place was likely filled to the brim with Slytherin youth, they saw no other children amid the strange, broken-down shops and stalls.

Albus was glad that the address they were seeking was only a short way down from the end. Roth's shop was located in a narrow building which seemed to have a flat above the store front. It stood out amid the gloomy alleyway due to the recent paint job and the small group of wizards gathered around a large cauldron that was blazing with blue flame. A few of them looked curiously at the two boys as they inched their way past but no one spoke to them.

"Hello?" James called into the resonant chamber. The room was tall and round and lit by a eerie glow from a gas light fixture hanging in the center. The walls were covered with shelves, many of them empty, some filled with ancient looking books and magical artifacts. The floor in the middle of the room was cluttered with crates of varying sizes, the bulk of which was covered with a clean, white tarp.

A girl their own age was sitting one crate, pulling and sorting ancient books from another. She was thin and pale. Her frizzy, brown hair had caught up a lot of the dust that was coming off the books she was sorting. She was dressed in the sort of formal robes most wizarding youth reserved for weddings, funerals, and other ceremonious events. The exception being Scorpius, who was generally expected to wear formal robes unless he went outside, in which case, he was allowed what his mother called "play clothes". The girl before them looked up curiously as they entered. Albus thought she looked as though she was the tiniest bit afraid of them.

"I'm sorry…we haven't opened yet," she said softly.

"We don't want to buy anything," James explained, "We're looking for Cesar Sutherland." Her face brightened slightly.

"That's my brother. He's upstairs now. They're having a meeting." The fact was confirmed by the sudden sound of several chairs scraping on the floor above their heads as if everyone had gotten up from their seats at once.

"They'll probably be done soon," the Sutherland girl told them. She smiled shyly. "If you'd like to wait, you can." She seemed quite hopeful that they would. Albus looked at James, who nodded. The girl smiled even bigger, showing off uneven teeth. She hopped down from her crate and quickly pulled the white tarp away from another large crate and pulled it away from the pile.

"Here, you can sit down," she offered eagerly. The boys took a seat on the crate and the girl beamed at them before returning to her work.

"What are your names?" the girl asked them.

"I'm Albus Potter, and this is my brother, James." The girl looked very impressed.

"How is it you know my brother?"

"We just met him on the street," James explained, "He said he might be interested in buying my old broomstick." The girl smiled again euphorically. Albus wondered if she was a bit daft or just extremely lonesome. He smiled back at her politely.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Rhiannon Sutherland."

"How old are you?"

"Just fourteen."

"I don't think I've ever seen you at Hogwarts before. Are you a witch?" James asked indelicately. Rhiannon didn't seem to be insulted, though. She giggled at the question.

"Of course, I'm a witch! I'm from the Sutherland and the Goyle families. My family can trace its magical roots over forty generations!"

"That's…interesting," Albus responded, quite happy that Rhiannon didn't seem to notice the disgusted look on his brother's face.

"Do you think so?" she asked, smiling brightly at him.

"Well, it's nice to know all your ancestors."

"Mr. Rath is the head of a genealogical society. He knows the pedigree of almost every witch and wizard in Britain!" she confided in them. She slid down off her crate once more and went quickly to the counter where she disappeared. Albus and James glanced at each other uneasily. She then reemerged, struggling under the weight of an enormous book, which she flung onto the countertop with much effort.

"Look at this!" she invited them excitedly as she opened the huge volume. The boys rose hesitantly and joined her at the counter.

"This is my father's family," she explained, pointing at the page, "Everyone's name is in blue, which means they were a witch or wizard." She turned the pages until she found what she was looking for.

"Here, this person's mother is a muggle. See, her name's in brown." She turned the page again.

"And this person is a squib. His name's in green." She turned the pages again.

"Here, look. This is your page!"

Albus and James leaned over the counter to look at the names of centuries worth of Potters. At the top were the oldest generations, which included a dozen names. As they scanned down the page, the number of names in each generations grew into scores. Then as one went further down the list, the number of names in a generation became smaller and smaller, until the final four generations, which listed only a single wizard's name, and that of his wife. At the very bottom, they discovered their own names and that of their sister. Nearly every name on the list was blue, except that of their grandmother, Lily Evans, which was a lavender color. James temporarily forgot that he wasn't interested in Rhiannon's creepy, prejudiced book and tapped Lily Evans' name, asking, "What does this color mean?" Suddenly, pages began to turn on their own, landing on a nearly blank page. Rhiannon laughed again.

"Whoops! Tapping the name makes the book change to that person's pedigree. Violet means that person is the first known witch or wizard in their bloodline. They're the ones Mr. Roth finds the most fascinating. He likes to research them and find out their ancestry and where their magical gifts come from. Witches and wizards from all over Britain have come to him for help sorting out their bloodlines."

"But our grandmother was muggle-born. She didn't have any magical ancestry," Albus protested.

"Well, it must have come from somewhere. Look." She pointed to another violet name on the 'Evans' page; Dudley Michael Dursley III.

"There it's popped up again in the same bloodline," she said confidently, "Obviously, there has to be a connection somewhere."

"There's always a connection," came a raspy voice from behind her.

"Mr. Rath!" Rhiannon greeted, "I was just showing these boys your book. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all, my dear," the man replied. Despite the term of endearment, Mr. Rath seemed quite cold and steel-like to Albus. Several other witches and wizards were milling out of the doorway behind him, which seemed to lead to the upstairs room where they'd been meeting.

"Are you boys interested in finding out more about your heritage?" Mr. Roth asked them, "I've been studying wizarding pedigrees for over twenty years now! During the second war, the ministry charged all muggle-born witches and wizards with stealing magical gifts! Can you imagine that?" The boys' eyes widened. It was indeed a preposterous claim.

"So, hundreds of muggle-borns were suddenly put in the position of having to prove their magical heritage to avoid going to prison for doing something that every person with a thought in his head knows is impossible. They came to me in droves. Nowadays, they don't have to worry about Azkaban anymore, but they still seek my help for other reasons."

"Why would it matter to people now?" James asked him.

"Well, every now and then I come across a person who has been required to produce their lineage for the parents of a prospective bride or groom. But that's becoming less and less frequent. A lot of people are simply curious, especially muggle-borns. They want to know where they came from and they aren't prepared to accept the widely held, politically correct notion that magical abilities randomly floated out of the cosmos and landed upon them in infancy." The younger Roth chuckled flippantly as he stood beside his father.

"But there are witches and wizards who have no magic in their families," James argued, "It happens all the time." Albus knew he was thinking of their Aunt Hermoine, who was born to two muggle dentists. Mr. Roth gave James a steely look.

"So, they say," he conceded, "And those who say that are free to do so. Personally, I say it's rot and no less ridiculous than the former Deatheater contention that muggle-borns are magic thieves. Still, I can understand how many muggle-borns would be more comfortable with that point of view and why they would prefer not to consider the far more obvious and logical explanations for their magical abilities."

"What are those?" James demanded. Roth Junior laughed again.

"Well obviously, either they or someone in their family doesn't know who their real daddy is!" he explained. The boys looked at each other in horror at the scandalous accusation.

"Not the most tactful way to put it," Mr. Roth corrected his son, "But, yes, that is one of the more frequent findings of my investigations." Albus was about to ask what the other findings were when he noticed two familiar faces in the small crowd of witches and wizards still gathered in the shop.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Blanchette," Albus greeted warmly. The two stopped and stared at Albus in surprise. He could tell that they were having trouble placing him.

"I'm Albus Potter, Scorpius' friend from school. I met you at Malfoy Manor." The Blanchettes eyes widened in alarm, as did Mr. Rath's.

"Albus?" Mrs. Blanchette whispered, "What exactly do you think you are doing?" Albus was confused by the greeting. The Blanchettes had been very open and welcoming when they'd first met him.

"I…I came with my brother. We met a boy who wanted to buy his broomstick. He said he worked here."

"Do your parents know that you're here?" she asked him.

"Er…not exactly. Our dad told us to stay in Diagon Alley, but we…"

"And that's exactly where you should be!" she interrupted, "Knock-turn Alley isn't any place for two boys…like you." Albus looked at James sheepishly.

"Darling, I'm going to escort these boys back to Gringott's," she informed her husband who nodded his approval.

"Take care, young man," Mr. Blanchette told Albus, "And do try to stay safe!"

Mrs. Blanchette hurried the two boys though the thoroughfare. She went surprisingly fast for a woman of her age and they had to be careful not to twist their ankles on the cobblestones.

"Honestly, two boys your age ought to know better…" she scolded them, "Knockturn Alley isn't a proper place for children to be exploring as it is, and then given who your parents are…well, let's just be glad that nothing happened to you this time."

"We didn't think it would be a big deal," Albus replied weakly, "Doesn't Scorpius ever go to Knockturn Alley?" She shot him a stern look.

"I don't know what Scorpius has been telling you, but I assure you he does not frequent Knockturn Alley, and in fact, he has never stepped foot in the place!" They came around a bend and stopped across the road from Gringott's Bank.

"Now, do try to be good boys and stay where your parents put you!" she pleaded with them.

"Yes, ma'am," Albus said remorsefully and James echoed him reluctantly. With that, she left them, returning to her husband and the Raths.

"If it's such a horrid place, what was she doing there?" James demanded once she was out of sight. It was a good question and Albus had no answer.

"Where do you pick up these crazies, Al?" Albus shrugged.

"Just lucky, I guess." James rolled his eyes.

"Well, I guess I'm not going to unload this broom for a fair price today. It's nearly noon. Let's go meet Dad."