Chapter 46: Haggling
"Ever been to Knockturn Alley before, Morrigan?" Sirius asked in a low voice, as he drew the hood of his cloak over his head. James and Remus, Ariadne noticed, were likewise taking certain measures to conceal themselves. James clasped his cloak tightly around him and Remus pulled a wizard's pointed hat low down on his forehead. Taking their cue, Ariadne tied her hair up in a loose knot and tucked it under her scarf, which she wrapped around her face. Sirius, she noticed, seemed slightly disappointed by the disappearance of her long locks.
"I have," she replied to Sirius curtly.
Sirius seemed a bit surprised at this revelation, which she knew he would. Though Ariadne had come to see many different sides of Sirius since befriending him, and, well, bedding him, including his intelligence, passion, and even a certain amount of tenderness towards her, his feelings of innate superiority persisted. He assumed that no one else, and particularly not law-abiding Ariadne, would have had the nerve and the street savvy to explore this less-than-savory corner of the wizarding underworld.
Sirius was waiting for her to elaborate, but clearly didn't want to appear too invested. "Well, what brought an upstanding and classy witch like yourself to these parts?"
"The same thing that brings us here today. Rare potion ingredients," answered Ariadne succinctly.
To her surprise this time, Sirius sighed. A sigh of…disappointment?
"If you have something to say, Black, do share with the class," she said tartly, reverting to her haughty prefect tone.
"Just when I thought you might have done actually done something interesting," he murmured, almost to himself.
Ariadne whipped around to face him, although all she could see in the shadowed face beneath his hood was the glint of his dark eyes.
"And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?"
"Well, Morrigan, have you ever gone somewhere forbidden just because it's forbidden? Have you ever gone on an adventure just to expand your notions of what's possible? To experience something out of the ordinary? Or does every activity you have ever done been in the service of getting top marks in Potions, or Transfiguration?"
Ariadne knew that pulling her wand on Sirius in this setting would be the wrong move, but she badly wanted to. "For your information, everything I do is about advancing my knowledge of magic to the highest level I can attain, which is not the same as getting good marks. I can see how someone who can't discern between trouble-making and learning might get them confused."
Sirius opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off. "And that is why we are here in Knockturn Alley today, buying an extremely rare ingredient on the black market for a highly dangerous magical activity. Not because of your ridiculous fantasies of gallivanting about the Hogwarts grounds with Remus disguised as animals. But because I want to learn how to become an Animagus."
Ariadne saw Sirius's eyes glitter. "But love, whose idea was that in the first place?"
He had won this round.
Ariadne, Sirius, James and Remus had reached the Accursed Apothecary, walking briskly and keeping their heads down. Ariadne knew that it would be suspicious for all four of them to enter together. Sirius seemed to be thinking the same thing.
"Ariadne, be my wife."
"Don't you think that's a bit hasty, mate?" James answered with, Ariadne thought, far too little alarm for such a proclamation.
Sirius sighed. "James, you are my brother, but you can be a bit thick-headed at times." He turned to Ariadne. "The wizards that run this place are not only conservative in their blood politics, but in many other ways, too. They will listen to and defer to the authority of a wizard over a witch."
As much as Ariadne hated this plan, she had to admit he was right. "Then why don't you go in alone?" she asked.
For once, without any trace of sarcasm or mockery, Sirius answered, "Because I need your help evaluating the product."
Normally Ariadne would have had to wring such an admission of need from Sirius's mouth. She felt victorious at being acknowledged this way, yet it rung a bit hollow.
"Ariadne, you are familiar with Gypsum's nonverbal warlock code, I assume."
"Fluent."
"Excellent. That way we'll be able to communicate without the shopkeeper knowing." He held out his arm to her. "Shall we?"
Ariadne struggled with the admission to herself that having her arm firmly looped in Sirius's provided a certain feeling of security as they entered the gloomy, dusty shop. It felt like her body was constantly at odds with her mind, lately. Accursed Apothecary did, no doubt, flood her with feelings of unease. Jars of picked animal spleens and countless other organs glowed in a faintly greenish light. Many ingredients had clearly sat her too long, and were covered in a layer of dust, or beginning to show signs of rot. The shopkeeper was a wizened old man who, despite his age, possessed sharp, keen eyes.
Sirius and Ariadne took a moment to peruse the shop first, not wanting to seem too eager. Then, they approached the counter, and Sirius asked with a performative pleasantness in his voice, "We are looking for a rare ingredient. You wouldn't happen to be able to help us, sir?"
"Any plant or part you can think of, we can supply it," rasped the old man.
"I'm not sure…you see, I've never seen this sold at any apothecary in England," Sirius said, drawing out his comment with hesitation.
"Well, my apothecary is more…unusual than most, my good sir," said the shopkeeper. More like illegal, Ariadne thought.
Sirius looked at Ariadne appealingly. "Well, what do you think, dear? Should we even bother to ask?"
Ariadne also feigned indecision, and tried to speak in the halting, higher sort of voice of a much less assertive woman. "Oh, I don't know…likely it's not here…"
The shopkeeper's curiosity and competitive instincts were piqued now. "If it's an item that requires, let's say, discretion, that can be arranged."
Sirius moved himself and Ariadne closer. "Well, we are looking for a very rare moth." He hesitated again. "A death's head hawkmoth."
The shopkeeper rubbed his hands together. "Well, you've come to right place, sir. And lady," he added as an afterthought, nodding toward Ariadne.
Ariadne knew that their next request would be the one that truly raised eyebrows. They needed to earn the shopkeeper's trust, quickly.
"Oh look dear, an extract of belladonna. That would be perfect for drugging our house-elf when he starts behaving out of line."
Sirius glanced at the jar that Ariadne was pointing to. "I quite agree. It seems that house-elves these days no longer know their place."
The shopkeeper had been rummaging in the back, but within earshot. He returned with a crystal jar containing a perfectly preserved moth.
Ariadne began tapping her fingers against the inside of Sirius's arm in patterned, repetitive movements. That's not even a death's head hawkmoth, she signaled.
Sirius tapped back once to say, Yes.
"My good apothecarist, I'm afraid our need is even more specific. You see, we need the moth in a particular larval phase…in the midst of it's transformation from worm to moth."
A flash of understanding passed across the shopkeeper's face. "And what would you be needing a death's head hawk chrysalis for, sir and lady?"
Sirius leaned in. "That information, and the business we conduct in your shop today, is personal." He flashed a handful of gold Galleons to the shopkeeper.
The shopkeeper's eyes passed over the coins, then over both their faces. "Well you seem like an upstanding, respectable sort," he said, and returned to the back of the shop. When he came out, he was holding three different specimens of moth chrysalis in crystal jars.
"I'll let you peruse these at your leisure. Though, I have to say, this one," he held up the middle jar, "is certainly the finest specimen I have seen in many a year working at my shop. Well-preserved, too."
He's trying to sell us a fake, signaled Ariadne. Though she had had only moments to look, she identified the true death head hawk's moth chrysalis by the distinctive spots along its edge. Rosettes, not solid dots.
Is it good enough? Sirius tapped her arm to communicate.
It's all right. Too close to maturity. We want one between 16 and 25 days old.
I'll signal James to look in the back. Distract him.
Ariadne picked up and carefully examined each jar. She smiled knowingly. "My good sir, do you know the distinctive signs that identify a death's head hawkmoth?"
The shopkeeper, predictably, was offended at this questioning of his expertise. "Of course. Any good apothecarist would. A true death's head hawkmoth has markings shaped like a skull on its upper thorax."
"And what about the chrysalis?"
"Gray with darker spots in a line along the edge. Rosette-shaped spots."
"Then why," Ariadne's smile grew wider, "are you trying to sell us the chrysalis of a useless pink-spotted hawkmoth, for the price of a death's head?"
The shopkeeper's indignance at this accusation rose, but did not explode, when Sirius signal-tapped, James has it.
"I will not be swindled by a second-class potion-maker," declared Ariadne, sweeping around. Sirius followed, while telling the shopkeeper over his shoulder, "I apologize for my wife. She is altogether too headstrong for a woman."
They swept out of the shop and met Remus and James. "How long until this peddler of snake oil realizes?" she muttered to them both.
"I would highly recommend leaving in the most expedient fashion possible," Sirius said, in the manner of one who was all too familiar with stealing from shops in Knockturn Alley.
They hurried out of the alley and disapparated.