"Would you repeat that?"
"A dictionary," she obliged, eyes flickering around his store. "In parseltoung."
"...I see."
"I've tried over at Florish and Blotts, no luck."
"I'm not suprised," Mr. Borgin drawled, "parsleic runes are considered rather...dark, by European standards."
The girl shrugged, "I just need to look up a word."
"...a word?"
"Just the one."
"That's a lot of effort for just one word."
A smirk, "anything worth doing, and all that. Now, the dictionary?"
Mr. Borgin eyed her Hufflepuff scarf skeptically. "Twelve Galleons."
A snort, "seven."
"Ten."
"Seven."
"Nine, final offer."
A sigh. "...fine."
