Declan had been researching for the last month, head first into the ancient tomes found at the Ministry and the ones he had inherited from his aunt. He'd even bought quite a few volumes from various booksellers in Wizarding Britain and by owl from other countries. That he was able to dedicate time to researching the luck potion again was a blessing, and most of his preliminary research and notes were nearing completion now. It wouldn't be long before he could start the actual brewing- which was the fun part, naturally.

Ignatius had been settling in well, too. He was much less cranky and the last week he'd actually been a smiling, happy child. Declan assumed it had helped that he had hired a live-in nanny to help him care for the infant child. Not that he was pawning the boy off on the old witch- far from it- but she offered some stability and was helping Declan learn how to be a proper father.

Today, however, he had left his son in her care while going out to find out what sort of cost he'd be looking at for some of the rarer... and perhaps more controversial ingredients for the potions he wanted to test.

The discussion he'd had with MacCullen about wand woods and cores had been very insightful, and he was curious if the properties of Leprechaun hair could aid in luck and money spells, whether or not leprechaun bits would be useful in the brewing of luck potions. He knew that leprechaun hair was finicky to a person who wasn't Irish- and lucky for Declan, he was. So hopefully if that was a problem while brewing, he'd be able to work around it.

Even so, getting the hair for a wand core was hard enough- finding something like that for a potions ingredient was likely next to impossible.

... Which was how Declan found himself heading to Knockturn Alley to look for the ingredient. An upstanding shop in Diagon or Hogsmeade would likely not have it, and not be able to procure it- but the shady dealings of Knockturn might be just the thing he needed to find what he was looking for.

The old potion shop was not very clean, and he couldn't help the way his lip curled when he entered. But the shelves were lined with all kinds of ingredients, and he had a long list on parchment with him. Declan started at the end of a shelf which was closest to him, carefully inspecting each of the jars. Up one aisle he went, and then down another- finding himself near the door again, muttering. "Hundreds of jars and not a single one holding any pieces of a leprechaun..."

Dotty was especially ragged. The squirrel dragged in by the cat after being subject to rain, fury swipes, train tracks and a felled power wire. Not all of that but close had happened to her as she increasingly spent more days of the week as a squirrel. Too many people looking for her. Fines not paid, interviews not completed, suspicions after being out the same night as a werewolf.

But she missed things. Talking! City squirrels had nothing to say and all of her undead critter pets didn't want to speak. Tongue probably rotted out or something. And clothes, another thing missed. A reason why today's outfit was so eye popping.[1] Literally eye popping when her foot knocked over an open jar of eyeballs that squished under her shoes.

That never ending dark rough woody stench of nuts was driving her bat guano mush for brains. She was still tasting and smelling things like a squirrel in these reprieves back into the macro world of humans. Which is why she was browsing the shop for anything chewable, smokable, resellable, inkable. Had to keep Dietrich from tossing her from the attic somehow.

There were pink grape things that matched the motif of her colors today. Those would have gone in her pocket until something else caught her eye. And the fact she didn't really have pockets. There was a barrel of things labeled Mackled Malaclaw or whatever rubbish but Dotty knew what they were: dirt cheap lobsters! Seafood wasn't as fun when fished out of the dumpsters behind the crab-shack.

She cursed the lack of any place on her person to smuggle the land lobsters without getting pinched. But there were remedies, Dotty had managed a fat purse off an unsuspected unsuspecting passer by.

So, a rare event for Anadotti Squiggs, legitimate economic transactions. She had enough malaclaws and looked for other things. Why did this shelf smell like nothing but chestnuts! She had an urge of cracking something open with her teeth.

Fancy schmoe next door down the shelf was muttering. "Hundreds of jars and not a single one holding any pieces of a leprechaun..."

The reference trigger something in her that wanted to share. "Like Leprechaun hair? You get nice, fine hair clippings from a Leprechaun and smoke it, I kid you not, you're guaranteed unexpected good luck or a cash advancement."

1.

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Declan's lip literally curled at the sight of the woman who had decided to respond to his murmur. She looked much like one of the Dark twins- two of the students at Hogwarts whom he had vehementally disapproved of due to their constant need to break dresscode and be... well... weird and obnoxious. He could not imagine what others would think if they saw him socializing with someone so inappropriately dressed, in such terrible shape, out in public. It was bad enough he was in knockturn without adding this to it.

He took a not very polite step around the woman, in total disbelief that anyone would smoke the hair of a leprechaun. It did not make any sense, and was likely dangerous. A coincidence more than likely- that, or the sort of people who smoked leprechaun hair were in the sort of business where good luck and cash were tricks of the trade if you were doing right.

It was still somewhat useful information, he supposed, pondering how best to ignore the disgusting woman. "That's very good to know," he said simply, disinterested in continuing the conversation with her any further. Were she not quite so hideous and obviously unsavory, Declan might have asked where one got hair from a Leprechaun- but he didn't dare inquire, especially considering the fact that he was a ministry employee. Her means of acquisition were likely not very legal. Since he was new to the job, and now had a child to look after, getting wrapped up in nefarious business would be a very bad decision on his part.

Ventus hadn't been an Unspeakable long but already he knew what sort of ingredients he would need. Of course, he already had a good portion of the ones he would need, he wouldn't be a very good necromancer if he didn't keep a ready stock. He could not, however, just bring such supplies in out of the blue, people would wonder where he had gotten them. That was how Ventus came to find himself in a potion shop in Knockturn; he wouldn't walk down these streets unless he had a good reason. But the shops in Knockturn were more likely to have things he would need for work, and if anyone asked he would have evidence to show such a transaction.

It seemed, by the look of things, that he was not the only person with such ideas as when he stepped into Crinchley's he noted Declan already inside, seemingly brushing off a... well, Ventus wasn't quite sure there was a polite way to describe her. Clearly, though, she was not someone he wanted to associate with; which was a choice Ventus had to agree with.

"Morning, Ó Móráin," Ventus said simply in greeting to the other Unspeakable. "Curious seeing you here. What brings you to such an establishment?"

Dotty scowled as she was brushed off with a 'good to know' as if she was a cheap as free regional paper that was nothing but trivia and local ads. She remembered reading papers of such useless tidbits, like the history of car making or how sausage was invented. Good for nothing but kindling or holding things that you used newspaper to hold. Borehole, she was not going to someone's discarded trivia ticket for the day. Because she had a tendency of not keeping her mouth shut.

She saddled up to Brush Off and Vaguely Asian Who Just Walked In. Pleasantries. If they had nothing important to talk about Dotty was going to make herself heard. "You weren't by happenstance looking for leprechaun hair were you, bub? Because I happen to know a guy that knows a guy." Even if she had unknowingly become a displaced emigrator, a secondary skill to Dotty's survival was getting to know the underground scene. Usually be means of joining their parties and being drunk enough that they couldn't just get rid of her until she sobered up a little. "Because this guy, he's a trainer for the Irish National Squid-dtich whatever-you-say-it broom sport. And part of his job his looking after the mascots, all these leprechauns. So come times when he grooms them he's got a bushel of leprechaun hair, totally legit, that everyone wants a piece of once he's done."

"Sooo..." This would be the part where, to sweeten the deal, Dotty should snuggle into his arm and grip his shoulder, all sexy like those women that could just tap a guy and they'd do anything for them. But her hands were too full of things she may not have enough money to pay for. "If you got enough dough flowing in that direction, all that could be yours."

Declan was unsure, at first, how to react to seeing a fellow Department of Mysteries employee. Shang was new to the department as well, but he didn't want the man to think he frequented places in Knockturn or that he made it a habit of socializing with such people as the girl who had approached him- the same girl who was now continuing on about being able to procure leprachaun hair in an alarming amount.

"Morning, Shang," he greeted in turn. "Just looking for some ingredients for an experiment I'm working on," Declan offered vaguely. He wouldn't mind explaining to Ventus more in depth about his work on luck potions, but he didn't want to discuss it in public. There was a reason those on level nine were considered Unspeakables. Their work was to be kept secretive for a reason, and he did not intend to break that rule by babbling on about his potions experiments in a shop- especially not with that girl still hanging about.

Her information sounded sketchy, though, to say the least. "I certainly hope you don't mean to imply someone working for a professional sport is illegally selling leprachaun bits?" Declan asked. "That might be something that the DMLE would be interested in knowing about." Maybe mentioning talking to the law would encourage the girl to go on her way. "What was your name again, Miss?" Declan asked. "I'd be more than happy to send them to have a word with you about it. You say you've purchased the hair yourself from an unlicensed dealer?"

"Ah, naturally," Ventus said with a slight nod. He was down here for the same reason after all. But like Ó Móráin he wasn't at liberty to say. Not here, at least.

Ventus cast a slight glare at the girl. She seemed... slimy. Not worthy of conversation, not trustworthy. She seemed to eager to make a deal, not to mention that she made the acquisition of Leprechaun sound too easy. Those creatures were a tricky bunch, and Ventus doubted the ability of someone so obviously uncouth to be able to procure any regardless of legality. Luckily Ó Móráin seemed to be of the same mind set.

"Yes," Ventus said neutrally. "Where could we contact this man? Does he have a name?"

"Hey HEY HEY!! Don't you go putting acronyms or things I haven't said into my mouth!" Great, this might be a sting if he was some undercover fed. If so she wasn't going to go down without a fight. It took a moment's fumbling for her wand through the stuff she was carrying until  she had everything clutched to her side under one arm and the other brandished...a Mackled Malaclaw. Shoot, if this had been living she might have been able to pinch him to death with it.

"I haven't said nuthin' but knowing what you can do with it and where some might be!" When she was, on average, sober across the entire chemical spectrum Dotty was't as much of an idiot. "Observational knowledge is free, man! Or maybe there isn't any leprechaun barber and I'm spewing crap at you."

"But then what's a preppy school snob-meister like you and a yakuza doing in a place like this looking for leprechaun bits? I think you're your own problem!" She did her best to shake the malaclaw at them threateningly. Dotty might be gutter trash but she was gutter trash that didn't take kindly to The Man poking in with his highway meridian cleanup stick to pick up litter people tossed out of car windows.

"Why is one of you looking and one of you isn't but to make threats? Just cuz I know who doesn't mean you can."

Dazmond lived just around the corner and was only out for ingredients today.  Aside from following her husband's legal matters, she'd only been brewing, and only brewing for Kronos.  She hadn't been showing her face much at all to her clients, who only got anything from her if they were both very persistent and knew where she lived (which did fit the bill for a number of Knockturn Alley dwellers).  She had a large basket full of this, that, and the other thing and was almost through everything on her list when her attention was pulled away from the task at hand. 

Daz was wearing large, black sunglasses despite being indoors, but she lowered them from her eyes momentarily when she caught a sense of what was going on in her very own corner ingredients store.

Now Dazmond wasn't in a state of mind to care about much besides her own woes - and in that way she had become a little more like her brother than was okay with her - but there were some things in this world that just rubbed her the bloody wrong way.  And from the looks of it, one of Knockturn's potion junkies was getting harassed by a couple of stiffs from the Ministry who were poking around for informants.  Stiffs who didn't belong in her bloody alley!  Dazmond was a proud member of the fake Knockturn Alley Neighborhood And Business Association and felt very strongly that certain kinds of crime should be allowable when you crossed the threshold into Knockturn - and outsiders didn't have any right to complain when they came here of their own accord.  The Ministry had no place in Knockturn.

She also may have been a little angry that her husband was sitting in a cell at the Ministry instead of pushing brooms at Calaveras right now.

"Are these men bothering you, Ana?"  Dazmond's eyes were hidden behind black glasses, but her gaze was focused on the black sheep of the O Morain family.  "You shouldn't be here," she told them plainly.  "Go back to Diagon."

Did dirty, broken down women travel in packs? The two were certainly an eyesore, especially standing next to each other. Declan could feel his skin crawling now that he was faced with two people who looked less than clean and sane. Why didn't women understand that a nice bath, a fitted dress, and combed hair of a natural color was much more attractive than ratty clothes and hair? Either way, Declan was not to be intimidated by either of the women. He had as much right to be here as anyone else- more so, considering his namesake and his father's previous occupation.

"If anyone is getting bothered, it is us," Declan said, motioning to himself and to Ventus. "I was simply shopping when the girl decided to strike up a conversation and start offering me even less savory venues of purchase for an ingredient type I've been in search of for a project." And naturally the wild looking girl was choosing to deny everything she'd just said to himself and Shang and pretend as though they were daft for ever insinuating such a thing.

"As far as why I am here, it is hardly any of your business, is it?" Declan directed to Anadotti. "I am working on a potion, I happen to need a bit of leprechaun before I start brewing. Since I was unable to find any such ingredient in Diagon Alley, I assumed that Knockturn might be able to oblige, since many of the shops here cater to more unsavory folk and sell less than savory ingredients."

"I'll go where I choose to go," he added. "And if I have to stop by every apothecary in Knockturn or every potions supplier, I will. Because I am determined that I will find what I am looking for, and I am fully aware that someone on this street must have it." This would be easier if his family still spoke to him, he could ask one of them to take care of it for him. Declan never thought he'd actually wish his sister was speaking to him.

Gracious this was becoming interesting. First the slimy girl brandished a dead bird at them and spouted a mouthful of gibberish that Ventus had a hard time comprehending the logic in. Then some equally filthy looking cretin showed up, taking sides with the first. And this was already enough to annoy Ventus. He doubted they would even be worth the sport like that Vesta girl had been. The fact that they would make such empty threats and challenges was pathetic at least and insulting at most.

Ó Móráin was as tact as ever though, saving Ventus the trouble. Which was good. After all, Ventus was about ready to murder them and use him in his next ritual. He could always use fresh bodies and he doubted that the ministry would care about the fate of these two. Plus their lives already seemed worthless, may as well put their death to good use.

"Well said," Ventus commented towards Ó Móráin, not wishing to say his name again in present company. "As for my reasons they are none of yours, and that should be enough for you. All you really need to know about me is that I'm always dressed to kill." He cast the two women a cold glare, that old ruthlessness seeping back into his look. "Now, unless you wish to become part of my next experiment I suggest you rid yourself from our sight."

Dotty was joined by the one person who ever called her Ana, most used her full name, Dotty, or Squiggs. Dazmond was the second best person to party or get trashed with in the alley. Or was she the first? Crap! Couldn't remember!

"These chumps wouldn't believe a genuine offer! Or it's their working stiff collars that cut off their brain circulation, or whatever." She motioned Dazmond should join her resistance with the twelve inch long, green spotted land lobster[1] she was holding.

"Well, chump, you ain't gonna find anything here it's like I said." Given the equation of smoke leprechaun hair = big payout, if there were large stashes of hair in the alley there would be lots more winning lotto tickets and enough money to actually fix up the neighborhood. "If we're so less than savory the means of gettin' are going to be less than savory. Duh! Don't think you're all high and mighty and pious! And I don't give two rats about your business, we ain't your bidders! Err, do-bidden." The malaclaw flopped back and forth as she gestured while trying to think of the dang term. "We don't do your bedding!"

Vaguely Asian the killing man thought he sounded so special. Dotty could kill to if she really really wanted to try very hard. She replied with the tried and true rebuke tested on the playground at Vaugly Asian's demand that they leave: "We were here first!"

Though her tongue poked into her cheeck, thining. "Wait, how much does it pay to be in one of your experiments?" Dotty was always looking for quick ways to get cash.

1.	Mackled Malaclaw

If Dazmond wasn't so miserable, she might have had a bit of laughter bubble up at his implication of innocence and entitlement.  What was he on about, complaining about being approached by a crazy person.  Here.  In this alley.  "You do know you're in Knockturn, right mate?" 

She obviously wasn't hoping for an answer there - just trying to make a point.  The rules were different here.  Everything was different here.  And nobody in Knockturn would ever care who the hell these wankers were. 

"You're right, Declan," she said, sliding off her glasses.  She had dark circles under her eyes as though she hadn't slept properly in weeks.  It was impossible to tell from his behavior if he recognized her or not.  They had never known each other intimately, but he was only a year above her in Slytherin and she certainly knew all kinds of things about him through the grapevine - namely that he was the kind of pureblood who had rejected his community while trying to carry the privileges on with him.  He was the kind of pureblood that pureblooded people looked down upon. 

"Someone on this street does have leprechaun parts."  She looked at him with a fair amount of irony in her eyes.  Judging from the amount of disrespect vibing off these two, they had no idea who she was.  It normally would have made her furious, the whole of this exchange, but right now it struck an even deeper chord.  The Ministry was on very, very bad terms with Dazmond Wiedman.  Her revolutionary angst and black market activism had turned toward seething hatred in the three months that her husband had been locked behind Ministry bars.   

His side-kick was unfamiliar to her - but she assumed he belonged to the Ministry as well, just from the look and attitude he presented.  Talking about experiments, he must have worked in the Department of Mysteries.  It was so disturbing to think that these Wizards could have been old coworkers of Landis's.  It was a small world, after all.  Dazmond received his cold glare with a disbelieving but unmoved look on her own face.  Was he serious right now?  She wanted to murder him right back. 

Dazmond couldn't help but smile when Anadotti said something about their 'being here first!' - it was such a silly way of arguing, but it was so true!  Go home old men!  Nobody likes you and this is our playground.  Then Daz noticed what Anadotti had in her hands.  "Blimey, that thing isn't alive, is it?"  She was having a bad enough week without being bitten by a Mackled Malaclaw.

"Anyway, let me see if I've got this straight.  You need something unsavory, so you come into my neighborhood.  Then you suspect a Witch is looking for something else unsavory, and you get ready to persecute her?  In my neighborhood.  And then you insult me and act like you don't even know who I am?  Give me one good reason why I should care if you show up dead in my favorite ditch, let alone why I should care about getting you your bloody leprechaun parts."

Declan blinked at Dotti. Most of what she was saying didn't make much sense to him, and he wondered if she was high or drunk. The malaclaw was flapping at them, and she was talking in circles, and seemed agitated. Declan wasn't sure why she'd gotten so mad to begin with. Sure, he'd threatened her with legal action, but only in the hopes that she would go away.

He looked to Ventus, wondering if the man was exhausted with this situation. He wasn't sure that he agreed with his colleague's choice to threaten the girls- especially with death- but it wasn't any of his business what Ventus did in his spare time. Declan's job was to work with potions, and that was what he intended to do. Let Ventus handle the creepier side of magic.

"I hardly think you own this neighborhood," Declan said simply to Dazmond. "I'm no fool. Money talks, and money talks hard around here. If you've got the galleons, you can find what you want, no questions asked and they don't give a damn who you are or where you come from. Everyone's looking for the quickest way to net a purse full of coin- even your friend," he motioned to Dotti. She had just offered to be part of an experiment if it paid well enough, which didn't speak much for her way of life.

"And I don't particularly care what that witch is doing or looking for. The threat was simply intended to make her go away. But she can't take a polite no for an answer."

He tugged on his waistcoat, and gave both of the ladies a level stare. "I had no intentions of coming into Knockturn to pick a fight, or to insult anyone. I am simply a man who needs something that is hard to find, and when you need something hard to find this is where you come. And I don't care if you want to help me find what I'm looking for or not, Miss Wiedman," yes, he did recognize her, but Declan was well aware that his place in pureblood society was gone long ago and he did his best to try to accept that fact and move on. "As it stands, this shop does not belong to you nor do you work here. I'm sure the shop owner will take whatever business he can get so long as it isn't wearing scarlet Auror's robes."

The sides of Ventus' mouth twitched into a slight smile at the girls question. Did the experiment pay, and how much? "I don't pay corpses," was his only dark response. Maybe the next of kin, if the person had any. But the Ministry would cover that so he honestly had no idea how much they payed. What a shame. It would be rather amusing to lure her into a ritual circle and watch to see if the skin would melt from her bones while she was still alive. Actually that sounded like a pretty good experiment. But there was no way the ministry would allow it.

"Wonderfully put, Ó Móráin." The man certainly had a knack for conversation. Something Ventus so dearly lacked. "I think you," Ventus focused on Wiedman. "Are missing the point. It isn't whether or not she is searching for something unsavory, it's the way she would acquire it. And as Ó Móráin said, it's always about money down here."

Ventus sighed and shook his head. This was getting them nowhere, and while the necromancer had enough confidence that he could spatter the both of them all over the walls, Ventus wasn't interested in going to Azkaban. "If you're both so desperate for coin how about a hundred galleons each to begone? Easy gold of the both of you and we can get along with our business."