Hermione left Twilfitt and Tatting's not only with a sales contract, but with a new set of robes, a luxurious cloak with silver fastenings and details, new dragonhide boots, and a crystal hairpiece. She hadn't been able to duplicate any of the finer jewelry, to her surprise and Giulia's satisfaction. Hermione suspected that some precious metals and jewels were too complicated to duplicate magically, at least at her level of strength. She was also unable to duplicate any of the finer coats, laden heavy with charms as they were. Giulia Twilfitt asked her a couple questions about copyright charms, but Hermione knew nothing of them, referring her to inquire at Lleuwlynn and Selwyn instead.
Still. She left the shop highly pleased, her bag bulging with her new acquisitions.
Hermione mentally checked her list of errands she needed to complete. Harry's birthday was next – the coven was throwing him a mini surprise party the next day, and she hadn't yet gotten him a gift. As she strolled down the street toward Quality Quidditch Supplies, Hermione let her eyes wander over the storefronts, drinking in the sights, until she stopped short at a newsstand, crowded with panicked wizards.
"Escaped?" one wizard was asking, paled. "How?"
"Dark magic, I reckon," another wizard said darkly. "No idea what all You-Know-Who taught him, do we?"
Hermione pushed her way through the crowd, where the newsstand employee was looking very harried, trying to encourage the people suffocating the stand to move along. He was young, and his alarmed eyes met Hermione, who winced in sympathy. With a subtle gesture with her wand and whispered word, a horrible smell began to permeate the area, smelling very much like a sick dog had farted.
There were exclamations of disgust and gagging noises, but Hermione watched in satisfaction as the crowd began to disperse, clumping into small groups elsewhere in the alleyway to discuss the news. A breeze from her air elemental cleared the air, and she offered the newsstand boy a smile, which he returned gratefully.
"How can I help you?" he asked.
"Just one paper," she said, holding out a sickle. "I have to learn what all this fuss is about."
"It's not good, I'll tell you that," he told her seriously, handing her back her change and a paper. "This does not bode well, I'm telling you. I don't much envy the Ministry."
Hermione thanked him and made her way over to The Hopping Pot, where she took a seat on one of the benches to read. The front page of the paper was the mugshot of a convict. He had dark, messy hair and piercing dark eyes. As the mugshot was animated, he thrashed around in the picture, alternating between laughing maniacally and glaring around while yelling unheard things.
He looked thoroughly mad.
"Sirius Black escapes from Azkaban?" Hermione read aloud. "This is new…"
SIRIUS BLACK ESCAPES FROM AZKABAN!
Infamous Dark wizard breaks free of previously impregnable prison!
Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner to ever be held in Azkaban fortress, has escaped his cell and broken out of Azkaban. Though Azkaban refuses to confirm exactly when Black escaped, Ministry investigation and dementor assistance has determined he is nowhere on the isle and has escaped to the mainland.
"We are doing all we can to investigate how this happened, and how we can recapture Black," said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. "We beg the magical community to remain calm as the Aurors track down Black."
Despite the Minister's assurance, the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse in his rage after You-Know-Who vanished.
"Black is mad. He's a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle," the Minister said. "We advise everyone to be cautious, and to report any suspicious sightings to the Ministry at once."
For more information on Sirius Black's history, turn to BLACK-4
For details on his breakout from Azkaban, turn to BLACK-5
Hermione gnawed on her lip as she finished the article. A criminal had escaped from Azkaban?
She didn't really know much about Azkaban, she realized. She knew it was an old fortress turned into a wizard prison on an unplottable island. She knew it was far to the north. She knew several of Voldemort's followers were locked up in there. And… that was it.
She scanned the article again. The only other hint was about 'dementors', which Hermione had heard of, but didn't really know the details about. From what she did know and the context of the article, it seemed like 'dementor' was a specific type of guard position within the prison, which didn't make sense – her brain seemed to have picked up somewhere along the way that dementors were creatures.
Funny name, though. Though, the wizarding world was full of funny names.
She folded up the paper and stashed it in her bag to finish reading later. There was no immediate threat, she figured. If the convict had escaped last night, it would take him ages to make it as far south as London without a wand. Though, if he had stolen one and could Apparate…
Hermione reassured herself that if nothing else, she was a child, and she was unlikely to be the target of a mass murderer bent on revenge.
The Quidditch store was teeming with teenage boys, and Hermione thought she recognized a few of her classmates in the crowd. She scanned the shelves, looking for something Harry would like, when her eyes snagged on a sleek black leather case with silver words stamped across it.
Broomstick Servicing Kit
The nearby display proudly proclaimed that the kit was the best on the market, used by professional Quidditch teams across Europe. It included the best cutting-edge Tail-Twig Clippers, a tiny brass compass for long-distance flying, a large jar of Fleetwood's High Finish Handle Polish, and a Handbook of Do-It-Yourself Broomcare.
Hermione smiled. It was perfect.
Harry loved to fly, and he'd said how flying was his favorite part of Hogwarts. Hermione had been jealous, almost, hearing how free and alive he felt on the broom. She knew she'd never have the same innate knack for flying on broomstick, though, and she contented herself with the knowledge she was one of the few people alive who could fly unaided through the air.
Harry didn't have many nice things (courtesy of his horrible relatives), and his Nimbus Two Thousand was one of his most prized possessions. A kit to keep it in the best shape possible would be a thoughtful gift that he'd actually enjoy, she thought – and, she mused with a smile, it even contained a book he might actually read for fun.
It was a bit pricey, but Hermione paid it. She could afford it, and what was the point of having gold if you couldn't splurge a bit to make your friends happy?
Flourish and Blotts was a delight, and Hermione took her time perusing. She purchased several books, including A Guide to Ghosts, Beginner Tailoring Charms for the Burgeoning Designer, and The History of the Wizengamot. To her disappointment, there were no displays with schoolbooks – the booklists must not have been released yet.
The last stop was Slug and Jiggers, the largest apothecary in the alley. A musty smell greeted her as she pushed the door open, and the shop was dim inside, relying heavily on the windows for light that wasn't coming through at the needed angle at this hour of the day.
Hermione waited patiently as the shopkeep checked out a few people before it was her turn. He turned to her with a grin, twirling a bushy mustache.
"A young potion maker!" he said. His laughter was deep and booming. "What can I help you with today, little lady?"
"Actually, I'm selling today," Hermione said. She set her Class B Non-Tradeable Goods License on the counter with a smile, and the shopkeep's eyebrows rose very high up as he read it.
"Basilisk parts?" he said, his eyes meeting hers. Hermione nodded, and he straightened back up, examining her. "You must be the little witch that saved Hogwarts."
"That would be me," Hermione agreed.
The shopkeep fiddled with his mustache as he looked her over, seeming to come to a conclusion.
"I'm not licensed to buy or sell Class B goods," he told her. "This is much more an apothecary to amateur brewers than licensed potioneers. You might have better luck putting an ad in the Prophet or trying to contract with the Guild of Potion Masters directly."
Hermione sighed. "Thank you."
She left the store disappointed. She didn't want to have to sell everything individually herself – she'd much rather just dump the load on someone else to sell off. She had no intentions of being a merchant herself.
As she made her way up the alley toward The Leaky Cauldron to Floo home, her eyes paused on an archway between buildings near Slug and Jiggers. It was shrouded, like most alleyways in Diagon Alley, but there was an archway. Hermione stared at it, thinking, before she went back down the Alley, toward Gringotts, this time with the sole intention of finding a matching archway.
It took a while, examining the areas around some of the lesser-known shops, but she found another arch, this one with faded letters chipped into the archway.
Knockturn Alley
Hermione bit her lip. From what she knew of the place, she could probably sell her basilisk parts in there, regardless of if anyone had a license or not. The questions was: did she really want to sell restricted ingredients to stores known for their Dark nature? To apothecaries who would readily sell basilisk parts to anyone?
She remembered how deadly the basilisk's venom was, and she shivered.
It wasn't a decision to be made lightly, if nothing else, Hermione decided as she went back up the alleyway once more. All the basilisk parts she had were enchanted to keep nearly indefinitely, so she had time to figure out what to do with them. And it would probably be more responsible of her to sell the parts legally and above-board, to researchers who might do some good with them, instead of to Merlin-knows-who that wanted to mess around with a potion with basilisk bits in it.
Professor Snape was a Potion Master, wasn't he? Was that a degree earned, or just a polite title used, Hermione wondered. If it was the former, perhaps he would be able to get her in touch with the right people?
Deciding on a strong course of action bolstered Hermione, cheering her, and she went home from her shopping trip with the satisfying feeling of a job well done.