Posted: 11/27/15

Beta: theartfulscribbler

Diagon Alley Part 1

10th July, 1998

Though Jane was a Muggle, her immunity to magic enabled her to see the Leaky Cauldron with the same ease as the Malfoys. Unlike the muckish Muggles surrounding them, she looked fully at the dingy pub and inn and headed for the entrance without as much as a confused blink. It was quite disturbing.

Lucius had booked the largest room on the highest floor, but it still failed to offer up the requisite standard of opulence and cleanliness to which he and his small family were accustomed to enjoying. The suite was dominated by a main sitting and dining room with three detached bedrooms. The furnishings were antiquated, in a shabby, rather than a majestic, way, and the bathrooms were practically the size of broom cupboards. On taking possession of it, they spent the first hour pointing out scuff marks on the hefty wooden floors and furniture, and then they drew one another's attention to the loose threads on the thick curtains and thin bedspreads and to the places where the rugs were unraveling. They even criticized the cheap quality of the wax which made up the candles.

Narcissa dithered for quite a while about whether they should actually unpack their trunks, for she thought perhaps it might be more sanitary if they just lived out of them for the duration of their stay, in what was surely a pest infested room. Lucius talked her out of this idea eventually, as the landlord, he said, for all his many, many faults as an innkeeper, must at least have had the sense to cast insect and rodent repelling spells around the suite.

Shortly after this agonizing decision had been made the door of the suite opened and Theodore Nott joined them. He had brought his son with him, Teddy Jr. The two small families greeted each other casually; the Malfoys and Notts had known each other their entire lives and as they were on assignment here for their master, they forewent the formalities.

Teddy was almost as tall as Draco and just as pale and thin, though his hair was brown like his father's. He had long thin front teeth that Draco had always thought made him look like a rabbit. Teddy was training to become a Death Eater, and he didn't bother to hide his interest in Jane. The first thing he did on entering the room was to locate her where she was sitting on the wide cushioned window seat, gazing raptly through the glass at the Muggle filled street below. He crossed the room to her and carefully looked her over with the same objectivity that he might have looked at an exotic animal in a cage.

He'd heard her discussed at length by his father and some of the Dark Lord's other servants. He knew his father had been honored by their master with the gracious privilege of penalizing the mudblood, and he also knew she was reported to be impervious to magic. Teddy examined her, confirming that she was just as homely as he'd been told, with her enormous glasses that almost took up half her face, her overlarge lips and eyes, her thick brows and mustache, and her short, wiry, blue-black hair; she was quite a bit smaller than he'd pictured her. Then he took out his wand and started casting some hexes and jinxes at her.

Draco went to stand next to his coeval, his eyes caressing the wand that Teddy was brandishing vainly at her.

"If the Cruciatus Curse won't work on her, I doubt those will," Draco said, sounding rather sad.

"What a freak," Teddy muttered.

"Yeah," Draco agreed, looking at her with unadulterated contempt.

"What's all over her face?" Teddy asked.

"Who the hell knows? Jam or something, probably. Watching It eat is like seeing a pig at a trough."

Teddy scowled at this unpleasant picture. "That bad, eh?"

"Oh, it's awful. Absolutely foul. We keep hoping the Dark Lord will decide to have It carved up like bacon, so, fingers crossed, right?"

"Yeah. Sure," Teddy agreed half-heartedly. "What can you really expect from a mudblood?"

He wasn't sure what to make of her, though he could understand why Draco seemed to hate her so passionately. If he and his dad and his grandmother had to care for a Muggle like some stinking pet, he'd probably resent her just as much. Teddy's father, who was a man who could take a sensible approach to just about anything it seemed, had impressed upon his son the use of her unusual power of spying, and had represented this gift in the best way, like a very useful tool the Dark Lord had serendipitously stumbled upon. So Teddy, who adored his father, mimicked this dispassionate perspective of her, but, instinctively, he didn't bother trying to rationalize with Draco.

They were standing about two paces from her having this conversation. She could have been a statue as far as they were concerned. Of course, as she didn't move or speak or show any response to them, she was doing a good job of imitating one.

"What are we going to tell people?" Teddy asked.

"My parents reckon we should say It's part of an advanced behavior study or something. Like we could hint around that we've volunteered to help out with some top secret experiment that's being conducted by an obscure branch of the Ministry. Perhaps," he said with a touch of despair.

"Wonder if anyone would actually swallow that," Teddy said in a dubious tone. "It's more creative than anything we've come up with, mind. We could only think of acting as though she's a sort of pet, like a novelty or something, but then we worried people might get the wrong impression. You know? Like she's…" he trailed off, unable to finish.

He didn't have to though.

"Yeah. Wouldn't want anyone thinking that. Don't see how anyone could, but still, some people have filthy minds," Draco said.

Teddy laughed a bit. "That they do," he agreed. "You and your dad getting new wands this week?"

Draco just stood there for a moment, swallowing hard and trying to keep his emotions in check, but he could feel his face heating and knew his pale skin was coloring, giving him away. He found all he could manage was shaking his head.

"Tough break," Teddy responded, not really caring at all, but acting tactfully sympathetic like any proper Slytherin. His father had advised him not to taunt the Malfoys too badly about their low status with the Dark Lord.

Draco knew that Teddy was full of bollocks, of course. He'd been playing these "friendship" games his whole life and knew every rule and nuance of them.

"I'm starving," Teddy said, trying to break the tension.

Lucius and Nott started arguing over the sleeping arrangements.

It seemed that the Dark Lord had instructed that Jane not be allowed to sleep on her own while in London and nobody wanted to sleep with her, but somebody had to, and of the three bedrooms only one of them was equipped with two narrow beds. It was also the smallest room in the suite.

"I booked the suite across the hall for Teddy and myself and we should just share that," Theodore said. "As you and your family are accustomed to her, I think one of you should sleep in the same room with her. There's no need for all of us to be exposed to her."

"If the Dark Lord thought that my family and I were sufficient to guard her then he wouldn't have bothered having you meet us here, Nott," Lucius reminded him. "Now, I think that taking turns will be the most judicious way to settle this. We should trade off until we leave."

"That doesn't make sense, Lucius. If you're sleeping in the same room with her, then are Narcissa and Draco going to share a bed?"

The Malfoys pondered this for an uncomfortable moment and then Draco sighed and said, "I can take the sofa that night."

Lucius smiled and said, "See. Problem solved."

Nott, who had absolutely no intention of sleeping in the same room as a mudblood, was, rather reluctantly, about to pull rank on Malfoy, but it seemed that Jane had just realized what was being discussed. She jumped up from her window seat and came to the middle of the room and said, "I's ent sleepin' wif none of you's but Mrs. Malfoy."

"Shut up, mudblood," Lucius told her coldly. "This isn't up to you."

She stomped her good foot and crossed her arms. The Malfoys braced themselves for another colossal meltdown.

"Is too!" she yelled. "I's makin a fuss 'bout it too!"

Nott and Teddy exchanged surprised looks.

"I's said I's ent sleepin' wif any men, and if you's be tryin' to makes me, I's - I's," she cast around for some viable threat, and seemed to settle for, "I's ent gonna bave once!"

"Merlin's beard, is she always this disrespectful?" Nott asked the Malfoys, and as an afterthought, taking in her soiled dress, face, and hands added, "And this filthy?"

Undignified, the three Malfoys groaned in unison.

"It's complicated, Nott," Lucius confessed embarrassedly. "It's usually quite passive. But It can be…stubborn at times."

"Why don't you just put her over your knee?" he asked.

Arching one of his eyebrows and slightly curling his thin upper lip, Lucius returned, "Why don't you just put It over your knee?"

Nott was about to say that he most certainly would, but then he remembered the Dark Lord's stricture about them hurting her the first night he'd found her. Nott began to rub his brown and gray goatee as though contemplating a problem he hadn't realized would be so complicated to begin with.

Finally, with a look of triumph, he leaned down and spoke to Jane as though she were five. He even brought out his index finger to wag at her while he scolded, "Be quiet now, like a good girl, or you won't get any dessert after supper."

The Malfoys laughed fairly hard at this ridiculous attempt to bribe their stormy mudblood who, they knew, didn't have much of a sweet tooth.

Deciding she had better take matters into her own hands, Narcissa said, "If I agree to share a room with you Poisson, then you'll have to take a bath every morning, wash your hair and every centimeter of your grubby skin, keep your face and hands clean throughout the day, exhibit better manners at meal times, and use your handkerchiefs to wipe your nose instead of your sleeves. Will you agree to do those things?"

Jane just stood there for a few moments with an empty look in her eyes, while she was apparently trying to decide whether this seemed like a fair exchange. Finally, she uncrossed her arms and gave a small nod.

"You'd better keep your end of the deal, you disgusting peon," Narcissa told her, sounding decidedly skeptical.

"I must say, I have a new appreciation for the…difficulties of your position," Nott said.

Lucius rolled his eyes and none of the Malfoys bothered saying anything. Nobody could appreciate how insupportable their situation was, nobody at all.

After they'd made up their sleeping arrangements and finished settling in, Narcissa made Jane wash her face and hands, and then the two families took her downstairs for a light lunch. They chose a table in the corner of the dining room so they could give Jane an unhindered view of the room. Shortly after the food was brought to the table a small group of wizards sat down at a table close to their own and they were able to point out to her a man called Stansil Goodbell, and then they happily crossed him off the list.

The other diners were looking uncomfortably at the table where the Malfoys and Notts were sitting. Lucius in particular was attracting a number of unappealing looks. As it was no longer necessary for the identities of the Dark Lord's servants to be secret, Nott was drawing his fair share of uneasy attention as well.

Many of the Death Eaters were proudly displaying their Dark Mark like the highest of accolades, while others chose to keep it hidden, like an ace up the sleeve, and then flashed them when it was time to go in for the kill. The notorious icon never failed to inspire fear in decent wizards and witches. It opened doors, extracted favors, and, these day, cowed the hearts of those who had always most adamantly opposed the Pure-blood creed of superiority. A Dark Mark was a universal currency, more powerful than the shiniest bag of galleons, and twice as heavy. The whole magical community of England knew the Dark Lord was on top, and it was hard to find any hope that he wasn't going to remain in this crushing position for a long time yet. Any person brave enough or foolish enough, depending on how you looked at it, to offer resistance to the new administration disappeared in the night, and was never seen or heard from again.

Though the table where they sat was arousing discomfort and fear, the other patrons surrounding them simply tried to hurry through their meals in the most casual manner possible, before they scurried off to finish their shopping or go home.

Lucius felt his spirits lifting as he noticed the fleeting looks of dread his presence was creating in his fellow citizens. As nobody outside the circle of the Dark Lord's followers knew the truth about his miserable position inside the hierarchy, and nobody realized he had no wand, to the external world he was just as formidable as Nott.

He found himself checking his reflection in a mirror hanging on the wall beside the table. He looked awful. The normal pallor of his exceptionally handsome face had been usurped by a perpetually flushed puffiness, created by the excessive alcohol he needed to constantly consume these days in order to dull the ache of his diminished circumstances. His eyes were yellowed and blood-shot, and his white-blonde hair was looking straggly and limpid. He remembered his wife's futile attempts to run a comb through it before they came downstairs and Lucius now severely regretted not allowing her to complete this simple toilette. Lucius also realized that, save the large silver ring on his right middle finger bearing the emerald snake that was like a type of crest the Malfoys had adopted centuries ago, he wasn't even displaying his wealth with an assortment of gem encrusted finery. Lucius thought that, perhaps after dinner, he would go upstairs and spend some time grooming himself properly.

After they finished their leisurely meal, Narcissa, Draco, and Teddy took Jane into Diagon Alley, heading for Twilfitt and Tattings to have her measurements taken and order her some new clothes. Lucius promised his wife he would join her soon and headed upstairs, and Nott said he needed to go to Knockturn Alley to conduct a brief business transaction and he also voiced his intention of joining them shortly. So the three remaining guardians took their charge and headed for their destination, scanning the sparse shoppers for the other unsuspecting targets of their master's plans.

There were only five people on the list and the Malfoys and Notts were, all in all, quite confident that they would be able to find them all on this trip. Each one was a prominent member of the relatively small wizarding community. Most were either directly or indirectly involved with the politics governing the country. A few were wealthy Pure-bloods who, the Dark Lord felt, weren't cooperating as fully as they should be with the policies he was trying to put in motion. These disobliging souls were known to be using insalubrious language among their peers, servants, and even in a couple of cases, wink, wink, their children. Oh the Dark Lord had his spies, but he was hoping, with the help of Jane, he could gain deeper insights into these peoples private lives, and hearts, so he could steer these subversive fools in the right direction, without wasting anymore precious, pure blood.

Not that the Malfoys or Notts knew any of this, not directly. They had their suspicions of course, and these were fairly close to the truth, but the Dark Lord wasn't the sharing type. Honestly, it didn't take a genius to figure out why he wanted these individuals to be watched. Although they, and their families, were all cousins and acquaintances of the Malfoys, they weren't too fussed over what Jane could potentially unearth about them, thus sealing their possibly tragic fates. The Malfoys, especially, couldn't afford to care for anyone but themselves as far as they were concerned; they were just about drowning, and their blood status was currently the only floatation device at their disposal. Whatever befell their distant relations from this act of pointing them out to Jane, well, c'est la vie.

Narcissa didn't enjoy coming to Diagon Alley that much anymore. She had been a perennial patron here all her life, and so many times she had wished for it to be altered. She had always detested the rowdy people, so drably plebian, calling out coarsely to one another while their grubby brats cried and laughed and ran around unrestrainedly. There had been these boisterous street vendors, loudly advertising their indispensable wares, bartering and vulgar. The pure-bloods and half-bloods and mudbloods all bumping into each to other, perhaps even eating side by side; it was disgusting. She had felt rather invisible at times, uncertain if the people passing her realized she was so above them. It had seemed such a zoo to Cissa. But there had been this verve, a lively, cheerful tattoo that had been inconspicuous to her until it was absent. Now that Diagon Alley had been stripped of all the things she had always considered unappetizing, that palpable pulse had faded to a dull aching throb.

The patrons she saw these days were no longer noisy or brash, but rather bleak and gloomy. With tense, tight expressions they scampered from one shop to the next, eager to finish their transactions and go home to their families. There were no longer any reunited school chums sitting around the fountain, sharing the current news of their inane lives, lingering over a cup of tea. Hardly anybody brought their children here these days, and Cissa couldn't blame them. The eager, yet supremely innocent, vendors had been replaced by a new breed of cart-pushers. These seedy looking peddlers offered scant merchandise of a darker nature and cheaper quality than their predecessors, and when they looked at Narcissa she got the distinct impression that many were thinking of either robbing or disrobing her. Perhaps both in some cases. Bands of Snatchers, the dregs of half-blood society, fiercely pounded circuitous routes over the cobblestones and into the dead-ending side streets. Cissa had heard egregious rumors about what happened to any witch negligent enough to be caught on her own, come dusk. This sordid gossip added entirely new connotations to the word snatch.

There were other changes as well, cosmetic kinds. And as with anything that had to do with appearances, these bothered Cissa appreciably. She saw random bits of paper and all manner of detritus scattered over the streets and in the gutters; it was sickening, like some Muggle tenement.

Almost half the shops were empty now. Some had closed simply because the owners couldn't generate enough revenue to cover their overhead. Others had fled England, before Dumbledore had died that was, because the Dark Lord had closed off all the exits to prevent the Pure-bloods from skipping off to other, more peaceful countries, and to keep the mudbloods from escaping. Some of the shopkeepers had been killed or taken to Azkaban. More than a few of these had been the proprietors of bookstores, who hadn't adhered swiftly enough to the ban on Muggle-friendly literature. These stores were distinguishable from the others in two ways. They had been charred crispy, and as she walked by them Cissa saw through the windows that only cinders remained. The other thing that set them apart was the blazing red epithet that had been cast over the entrances: BLOOD TRAITORS. Nobody dared cast the countercharm to remove these glowing reprimands, though the crimson letters clashed garishly with the eyes.

Narcissa knew that no matter how long she lived, she would never understand why some people felt the masochistic need to stand up for the rights of Muggles. To be killed or imprisoned for such an inane and worthless cause seemed downright shameful to her. Why couldn't the idiots just keep their heads down, blend in, survive?

In Twilfitt and Tattings Narcissa instructed Jane to stand on a stool while a seamstress set a floating piece of measuring tape to span the insubstantial lengths of her arms, legs, and shoulders; then it began to measure the flimsy girths of her waist, upper arms and chest. Narcissa told the proprietor of the shop, a Mr. McBathers, to keep her sizes on record, in case she needed to make replacement orders for the robes Jane would inevitably wreck.

Mr. McBathers' eyebrows had disappeared under his mop of ginger hair on catching sight of Jane. Narcissa doubted he'd ever seen a more pathetic piece of rubbish in his robe shop. Let alone accompanied with anybody as affluent as Mrs. Malfoy. Cissa had felt her immaculate blood rushing to her cheeks, in the most unflattering way she was sure, and she held her breath until all danger had passed that the heavily mustached little man might comment on Jane's uncanny presence.

Normally Narcissa would have flourished in a clothing store, especially if she was given the prospect of a fresh project; but Jane didn't qualify as fresh or a project - she was nothing short of a grungy nuisance. Narcissa selected plain patterns to be made up in black, brown, and dark blue, and left off all the distinguishing little accessories she would have delighted over if she had a worthy candidate for her stylish expertise. The entire visit lasted under an hour, an unheard of record for Narcissa. She simply flipped through the catalogues, chose the dullest designs she saw, and picked out some nightdresses, white knickers, and shifts for Jane. Each garment was sturdy, functional, and austere.

It wasn't that Narcissa resented spending the galleons on her, not in the least. The sum of it was too measly to be sneezed at, really. And it wasn't even that Jane was a mudblood. If Narcissa had detected the slightest hint of natural grace or beauty in the child, she wouldn't have been able to resist finding colors to bring out the blush of a smooth, creamy cheek, or to accentuate latent hues in the irises, or to enhance a trim waist and blossoming bosom. Nothing about Jane was creamy and the limping, lackluster cripple had no appealing finesse of movement. She was deficient in curves. Even with a tight bodice her small chest was…well, they were like insect bites really, and this, combined with her narrow hips, meant that she barely even possessed a discernible waistline. To Narcissa, beauty was an art, she was an artist, and some people, and most especially herself, were an ideal canvass. Jane didn't even register as a blank piece of parchment that was suitable for sketching.

Lucius and then Nott rejoined them just as they were finishing.

Narcissa was pleased to see that her husband had combed his hair and put on a set of the jewelry she'd packed for him. She didn't think the amethysts went with his robes as well the sapphires would have, but she smiled at him and said, "Hello, handsome."

He smiled back and gave her a demure kiss on the cheek. He'd shaved as well. Lovely.

Teddy snickered at this exchange and Draco scowled at him.

Draco and Teddy wanted go to Quality Quidditch Supplies to look at the latest model of a superb Firebolt that had just been released for the public. None of the others had a problem with this so the young men went to drool over the new broomstick.

The rest of them took Jane to a store that sold boots. She needed some new shoes more than anything. Declining the owners many offerings of assistance, Narcissa took Jane behind a partition made by a rack of shoes and had Nott and Lucius fetch various styles and sizes. It was irritating trying to find shoes for the wretched cripple. She had to manually maneuver her detestable limb, which Narcissa could barely look at, and this made it hard for Jane to get each article on and then off again. The limited tractability of her fake leg also made it impossible for her to wear anything with a heel longer than two inches, and since very high heels were in never-ending vogue, Nott and Lucius were hard put to find anything that would work for her. Eventually, Jane and Narcissa found about five pairs of sturdy leather boots that Jane said she walk in comfortably.

They took their purchases to the counter and the while the clerk was ringing up the merchandise, praising their selections and enumerating all the charms that were systematically cast over every fine boot that comprised the inventory, another person on the Dark Lord's list came into the store.

It was a man called Danvers. Mr. Danvers began to greet Nott and the Malfoys with an oily, ingratiating smile and voice. When he saw Jane however, his face dropped and his eyes widened in unconcealed surprise.

Nott stepped forward, in an attempt to smooth over the awkward moment and, fingers crossed, head off any uncomfortable questions. "How's the lovely Mrs. Danvers?" he asked.

Recovering quickly, Mr. Danvers replied, "She's well, thank you. How's your son, Teddy, doing?"

Lucius and Narcissa joined the conversation and all the tedious niceties were observed with the ease of a well-rehearsed dance. In a way it was exactly that, a dance, a play, a complex art. Every social situation had a separate set of rules, each meal, every gathering, some even varied by the day of the week. If your grandfather was present at a Tuesday supper, and you were his second grandson, you greeted him by placing your left hand on his right shoulder and during the meal you had to make sure you were seated to his right, but never adjacent. The wealthy Pure-bloods, the foundations of magical society, knew that outsiders sometimes snickered at the fastidiousness of their protocols, but that was simply because they were jealous. They didn't know the members-only, secret handshakes, and their ignorance of these esoteric customs occluded them so delightfully and efficiently.

After the basic formalities had been got through, Narcissa walked toward the back of the shop to locate Jane. Suddenly a loud crashing noise resounded through the store and Narcissa, rushing toward the source of what sounded like an avalanche, found the mudblood standing next to a pile of shoes that had moments before been a glorious display.

"I's ent mean to," Jane said, softly, clearly frightened at the look of rage on Cissa's face.

Everybody else in the store, customers and employees alike, were soon gathered around the ignominious sight of the ruined exhibit and the grimy little reprobate who had created it.

"I's sorry," she said. And then, in true form, she began to cry.

Infuriated with Jane for attracting so much embarrassing attention to herself, and all of them, Lucius went to her side and grabbed the child roughly by her upper arm. The tips of his pale fingers turned red as he was digging them into her so hard and he was pleased when he heard her gasping a little. All the gathered witches and wizards watched as he escorted her firmly and quickly from the store, followed by his wife and Nott.

As soon as they reached the muggy heat of the late afternoon air, Jane began floundering, trying to extract herself from his heated clutch.

"You's hurtin me, Mr. Malfoy! Le' go!" she squealed loudly.

Lucius released her and she made a new spectacle of herself when she tripped over her boots and fell onto her bottom. She was crying loudly and people that were passing by turned to stare at her. She was such a sight! Very few people in England with dark skin had the creditable preservation of being half-bloods. Her dubious heredity was as audacious as the red BLOOD TRAITOR caveat flashing loudly over the burnt bookstores. But even stranger than the over zealous pigment of her skin was the fact that she was accompanied by a group of people, who were not only wealthy and powerful, but also known to be associated with the Dark Lord. They may as well been walking around with a tethered hippogriff. That's how odd her presence here truly seemed.

The owner of the store came out carrying the bags of boots that Narcissa had forgotten inside. Seeing the svelte, intimidating Malfoys and Nott gazing down in disdain at the bawling child on the ground, he simply set the bags by Lucius's feet and went back inside.

Finally, Lucius got her on her feet again and leaned over to talk quietly and roughly into her ear.

"You are making the most shameful scene, Poisson. Stop crying this instant, and get yourself together," he admonished her. "We won't tolerate this behavior for one more second, do you understand me?"

She closed her mouth and tried to reign in her misery a bit. She started to take a swipe at her gooey nose with the sleeve of her blue dress, but Narcissa upbraided her in time, and Jane pulled out a handkerchief and used it instead.

"I's said sorry," she told them in a shaking voice.

Leaning down, Narcissa whispered, "Did you at least see Clyde Danvers?"

Jane nodded.

"Are you certain?" Lucius asked.

She nodded and said, "Yeah, I's seen 'im. 'E were pale and tall and 'ad straight black 'air, yeah'?"

They all sighed in relief. At least, whatever else may have happened, that was one more person to cross off the Dark Lord's list.

To be continued…