7:27 pm
10 February 2010

Sellaphix Apothecary /about/
#3 Knockturn Ally


Zelda Sellaphix was sitting on a stool behind the large counter at the back of the shop.  Next to the great beast of a cash register was a pile of black husks, pods from the Nine Tail Pussy Willow.  She was shucking them in the last idle hours of minding the apothecary for the day.  Zelda was the sort to squeeze every last minute of productivity from each day, now more than ever.  When your partner and husband is in Azkaban, you make lemonade. 

When she could afford to close up, she'd be up into the office until the wee hours going over the books.  Then it'd be up before dawn to sort out a new shipment, to prepare more reagents for shelving down in the work room. 

If you asked her, she'd tell you that business had been none of yours.  But in truth, they were scraping by.  Only just, but just enough.  With the boys at Hogwarts, she was only feeding herself and had barely stoked the fire at home all winter.

As she shucked, a little old witch made her way to the counter.  Zelda set down her work and had rung her up before she even arrived.  Auntie Ezmie was a long-time customer and always came in for the same thing.  "Pound of black tea and nightshade.  Eight sickles, dear."  The little old witch laid the silver coins on the counter and toddered back out the door.

Zelda heard the bell chime, but had her eyes down on her handiwork.

It had been one hell of a year so far for Declan O Morain. He'd been ecstatic to return to Hogwarts, and not even a month later he'd had to abandon his post yet again. As much as he loved teaching, as much as his heart was with Hogwarts, he just had to admit the fact he needed a position where he could set his own hours. Ignatius was only four, and he'd come down with dragon pox at the end of January. A serious, potentially life threatening disease Declan had to be there for his little boy. And he realized that Hogwarts just wasn't in the cards for him. Neither was the ministry, which could be equally demanding. And the only way that Declan could think of to set his own hours was to be his own boss...

Thus the idea of opening a small potions shop in Hogsmeade was born. Hogsmeade was currently devoid of a potion shop, and it would fill a need for the small magical community as well as provide a source of income for he and his son, and also give him the freedom to take time off or to close up shop if Ignatius needed him. Perhaps one day, when Iggy was older, Declan would be able to get back into teaching. Until then he was going to try to pursue his first love- potions- and focus on being a good father. And being a good father meant setting aside your selfish desires for the greater good of your child.

Getting his small shop ready to open was proving to be a lot of hard work. After finding a building and making a list of potions to sell, he needed to set about getting ingredients... But he would need them in bulk. He remembered from his childhood the names of many apothecaries his family had done business with, but the Sellaphix Apothecary stood out most in mind. Probably because of Declan's direct interactions with Figaro Sellaphix at Hogwarts. Even so, he'd decided to make that his first stop to see if they would be able to fill his needs for ingredients on a monthly basis at a reasonable price.

When Declan entered the shop, it was not quite how he remembered it. But that had been more than a decade ago, and times had changed quite a lot since then. He smiled politely as a little old witch walked past him to the door, and he made his way to the back register. "Good evening, Mrs. Sellaphix," he greeted. Her face rang familiar, but he couldn't be sure that he was at all recognizable after fifteen years. (Of course, petite and blond was a definitive O Morain trait.) Declan looked around the old shop again, and for the first time in a long time a part of him wished things had been different and he was running the farm in Ireland. With his sister getting married, he was certain she'd be hiring someone else to take over and they would do a piss poor job more than likely. "I don't suppose you've still got the means to fill large orders round the shop, have you?"

"Of course I have," Zelda responded bruskly, as if it were a somewhat insulting question.  But that was her way.  Despite the crumbled reputation she'd had to rebuild this last year, the connections her husband's family had made with suppliers ran deep.  Roots that would take more than a bit of trouble with the law to truly decay. 

She stood from the stool and cleared the husks into a bin behind the counter, then wiped her hands on her apron.  Behind the counter, up one step, she was eye to eye with the short young man.  At first glance he looked like a new customer.  Well dressed.  Groomed.  Nice manners.  Yes, new to Knockturn, he must be. 

Zelda gave him another eyeballing, then took out a quill and pad.  She slid it over to him.

"Write what you need, and be neat about it.  Can't offer delivery right now.  Haven't got a dogsbody.  So you'll have to come round when it's in."

She wouldn't ask him his name, not yet.  She wouldn't need that until later, and he might not be the kind of customer who liked giving out names.  Besides his face was familiar and she wanted a little time to figure it out...

Declan took half a step back at her abrupt response, tilting his head ever-so-slightly to the side as she began to move around behind her counter. He wasn't sure how to feel about the way she was sizing him up, but when she handed him a pad and a quill he took it from her graciously and moved back toward the counter again, leaning against it lightly as she explained that they could not offer delivery at the moment. "That's quite alright, I don't mind picking up the order. As long as the ingredients are of quality and the order is filled in a timely manner, it would be silly to complain about a lack of delivery."

Taking the list from his inner coat pocket, he began to carefully transcribe his needs onto her order pad. It was more or the less the standard fare, various plants and herbs, animal parts, a few pre-prepared mixtures. "I am just getting started on setting up shop," he explained. "So this first order will be much larger than the ones to follow. I want to be sure I have enough to get started with some left over to last a couple of weeks. Excepting, of course, the animal bits that need to be exceptionally fresh for the appropriate quality of potion." The ingredients were also, surprisingly, all of a legal nature.

"Do you prefer payment up front?" Declan asked, looking up from the ever growing list of ingredients. Considering the sizeable order, he would not be surprised if she needed a deposit at the very least, just to ensure she did not get stuck with an overstock of things around her shop. He remembered his father complaining about having too much of one thing or producing large amounts of specific animal parts only for the order to fall through.

Jonas hadn't been part of the Auror Corps back when the infamous Knockturn Alley Runespoor explosion had happened; he'd only seen the aftermath, when he'd come across Cinaed Tawse cleaning it up.  Consequently, he'd never really interacted with the Sellaphixes:  Rafe, who was now in Azkaban; the older boy, Figaro, whom Adon had sort of adopted; or the wife, Zelda, who had taken over running the shop.

Briggs had said to play nice, and so he'd come to the Apothecary without a hint of the Auror Office about him.  Street clothes were always a bit tricky in Knockturn, even for a store just near the opening to Diagon, and so he'd thrown a cloak over his normal shirt and trousers. 

The shop bell rang, setting off a tintinnabulation as  he pushed the door open into the narrow little shop.  Jonas glanced easily around as he stepped inside.  A witch -- it had to be Sellaphix -- was helping a short man who looked vaguely familiar.  Too bad; he'd hoped that by stopping in so late, he'd have been the only one present.

The last thing he wanted to do was disrupt any of the Apothecary's legitimate business, and so Jonas stepped to the side, examining a display of beetle eyes with a grave expression as he waited for the current transaction to finish.

"Hmm," Zelda responded to her customer's explanation for the order.  It wasn't immediately clear what 'setting up shop' meant to him, but from the look of his list as it formed, he was in the Potions business. 

"We mostly work with O Morain Farms for reagents fauna,[1]" she said.  "They're good."

And that was the summation of her evaluation of them because as soon as she said it, she recognized him.  She managed a sharp little smile, aware of herself now.  "But you'd know all about that."

She was also amused because of how much she'd heard about Professor O Morain from her oldest boy, Figaro.  Figaro hated the wizard and didn't spare breath or ink to tell her so.  'Setting up shop', then lent added detail to Figaro's last letter that he was gone now from Hogwarts.

"Payment's at our discretion," she explained but cut herself short, before she could describe that it depended on the customer and the order whether payment was up front or upon delivery. When they'd been talking, a wizard with red hair had entered the shop and was browsing the beetle eyes.  She'd never seen him before.  My my, today was a good day for totally new customers, wasn't it?  It was a bad omen, if she ever saw one.

And so she decided to exercise some discretion.  "We're closing," she said to Mr. O Morain loudly enough for the other fellow to hear.  "Now."

She took his list from him and eyed it.  "Come back in a week.  Good day."  She looked at him pointedly.

1.	Fancy name for animal parts? I don't know. Roll with it.

Declan was just about to inform Mrs. Sellaphix that he knew all about their partnership with O Morain Farms- as he, himself, should have inherited the business- but it seemed that recognition dawned on her and she simply stated that he'd know all about that. He nodded lightly in response to that statement. "Yes, I suppose that I would. Best not to let the sister find out, though," he told her with a friendly wink. He would not put it past Liadan to stop supplying to Sellaphix Apothecary if she caught wind that they were, in turn, supplying him.

His brows jerked up when she stated that the were closing- right away. "I- er-" he stammered for a moment, then shrugged lightly after he was instructed to return in a week. He supposed that meant she was willing to sell to him. There was no reason to question her abrupt dismissal. It would be rude and could damage a potentially useful business connection. "Yes ma'am," he said. "Do have a pleasant evening. Please owl me the final total." And, with a light bow, he turned around to leave the apothecary.

Declan spotted the man with the red hair browsing the aisles, and wondered if his appearance was the reason for the witch's sudden decision to close the shop. "Sir," he said with a slight inclination of his head before exiting the small Knockturn apothecary. Now that was done, he could focus on the other necessary steps to getting his potions shop up and running.

The mention of O Morain Farms was enough to get his attention, as politely discreet as he'd been trying to be.  But then in a flurry, the shop was suddenly on the verge of closing and the short blond fellow was on his way out the door.  Jonas paused, cocking an eyebrow as he peered quizzically back at Zelda Sellaphix, curious if he'd been ferreted out.  Aurors were certainly an item of interest to the population here in Knockturn Alley, and it wasn't as if he was entirely unknown.

Certainly not as unknown as Madam Zelda Sellaphix, born Morsely, was to him.  He'd read all about her in the casefile.  Married early; had children late.  He knew that she'd struck Adon as matronly, stern, and imposing, but any woman over 35 seemed to have that effect on the Israeli Auror.  She was equal partners in this business with her husband, but whether it was because Rafe Sellaphix had kept her from the shadier side of the business, because he'd done his best to take the fall and keep the shadows of illicit doings from falling over his wife, or merely because she was smart enough to get out of it, she hadn't been implicated in the illegal Runespoor venom trading last spring.

They were all pieces to the puzzle that was Zelda Sellaphix, but somehow the whole of a person was always more than the sum of their parts.  Perhaps Nate Briggs had given him the most complete impression.  She's sharp.  Probably try to kill you.  She cares about legitimacy.

For now, he flashed the sharp, murderous, aspiring-to-be-legitimate Missus Sellaphix the slightest of smiles and stayed where he was, alongside the moderately priced, glittering beetle eyes.

"Sorry about that, ma'am," he said politely, giving a shake of his head.  "I didn't mean to run off any customers -- I was hoping that I might catch you for a chat just before you closed."

O Morain left - good lad could pick up a hint - but the other one stayed.  The door dingled and they regarded one another across the shop.

If he had been a real customer, he might have not chosen words that separated himself from that group.  He might have expressed some hurried interest in imposing on her patience to make a last minute purchase.  But instead, he wanted a chat.  Perhaps he was one of those people with the Wizarding Blood Alliance, the ones who smiled and asked if they had a moment to talk about tradition. 

"What about?" she asked as she stepped down from behind the counter, into the narrow hallway that separated The Front from The Back. 

She was curious, but she had tended shop in Knockturn Ally for two decades and she knew better than to grant anyone the benefit of the doubt. 

"Speak up, now.  I haven't got all night."  She calmly drew her wand as if to inspect it, but the message was clear.  She didn't know him.  He'd better make his business plain, or she'd show him out.

Barely a minute into the conversation, and already the wands were out and the words were pointed.  Jonas chanced a smile, shaking his head.  Briggs had been dead on with this one; it left him half wondering whether the Azkaban inmate wanted to give his former employer a run at the Ministry, or the other way around.

"Good we're still a bit early, then," he said cheerfully.  "Or I can come back, if that would work better."  He wholeheartedly doubted that it would.  Respectable desires or not, shops in Knockturn Alley did not do well when they were subjected to repeated visits from Aurors, whether in plainclothes or in crimson.  Zelda Sellaphix was not going to want him coming back again.  A fact that he might be able to use to his advantage, provided he could keep her from immediately running him off.

"The name's Trevelyan.  I'm with Level Two."  He gave her a quizzical, searching look.  "There's something that I was hoping that you might be able to help me with, Missus Sellaphix."

Despite being where he was, and in the face of Zelda's unmistakable intention, the visitor was oddly cheerful.  It would have been so easy to be put at ease, but Zelda knew to be wary of silver-tongued, happy people.  "Don't Trust A Poet!" had been the mantra of her family.  And while this one wasn't rhyming, he had the blithe bearing of someone who might. 

He easily dribbled with niceties but then the meat of it came out.  Level Two.  The home of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.  Without a word, she was quietly on the move.  She walked towards him, and then right past him to the front door.  With seven clicks and clanks, she locked the seven locks and then with a zzzzzip, drew down the shade.  The dongle at the end of the cord tapped against the door. 

Back to her shop door, she looked at the fellow and tipped her head. 

"Really. However the Sellaphixes can be of assistance to the Ministry of Magic, please do tell."

Her voice dripped with sarcasm and contempt. 

Seven bolts clanked shut, the shade slid down, and then here he was, trapped inside a shop with a witch whose bright and cheery mood could have turned the Sahara into a glacier.  Still, Jonas didn't falter.  Be nice, Briggs had said, and so nice he would be. 

It was his usual strategy anyhow.  For ten years, Jonas had had to get by without the ability to fall back on threats.  He'd had to talk and convince and persuade; and somewhere through it all, he'd discovered the secret.  Once you went and started acting like you might need to draw your wand, people started treating you like the sort of man who would.   Tensions escalated; cooperation vanished.  But act like you didn't need to -- carry on as if this were all nothing more than a jolly conversation, and nine times out of ten, the other party would simply go along with you.

"There somewhere we can sit?" he asked, looking back towards the counter.  Somehow he doubted that Zelda Sellaphix was the sort to invite anyone into her inner sanctuary, but even that would do.  Standing here, this was too much like a confrontation; he didn't want it to be.  Betterfit to get as far away from defensive body language as possible.

Slipping his hand into his pocket, he found the piece of paper.  Creased flat, he unfolded it and smoothed it out again.  It was a photograph of a very young woman, barely edging into her twenties, still and unmoving in the hallmark of a Muggle camera.  The images of the dead girl from the dress shop had found their way into the press, but they hadn't lingered there for very long.

"Here," Jonas said, passing it to Zelda Sellaphix.  He kept his attention carefully on the woman, watching her for any sign of reaction.  "You recognize her?"

Locking up, even while done with a hostile sort of snapping and sulking, was a measure for both of their security.  It wasn't exactly ... safe to invite in and chit-chat with an Auror in Knockturn Ally.  Zelda had been diligantly been trying to shake their business's association with Law Enforcement, for the benefit of both types of customers.  The Diagon Alley crowd would be none to pleased to see the Sellaphixes still under Level Two's watchful eye, prone to slip back into crime were they? And the Knockturn Alley sorts would steer miles away from any glimpse of red robes. 

Best keep her guest shut up tight from prying eyes.  And his suggestion to have a sit was actually a practical one, although the only chairs were upstairs in the office.

She took the picture from him and led the way to the back.  A green-patina'd iron staircase led up to the second level, and through a portal in the brick wall could be found a tight little office, shoved away in a cubby that looked like it must have previously been a fireplace, it was so cobbled and cramped.

There were two chairs - one old and leather-padded, the other spindly and small.  She sat down and finally had a look at the picture.  It took her a moment to realize it wasn't going to move.  The eerie visage only stared at her unblinking.  It was unsettling.

"No. Is she dead?" 

Zelda was bold enough to ask, hopefully get to the point.  And she was bold enough to still to dare the Auror to take the question as incriminating.  But between the two of them, Zelda wasn't the one who'd ever fired a curse upon another witch or wizard in her life and she was vindicated in that defiant security.

Straight to the point, Missus Sellaphix was.  Jonas raised his eyebrows, but gave a single nod.  No reason to beat around the bush; he wasn't trying to trap the shopkeeper, at least not in this.  Zelda Sellaphix had played no part in Rosemary Hampton's death.  There was no reason to play games about it.  They might as well cut straight to the core.

"Yeah.  The Prophet covered it, but they didn't give it much attention."  They might have, if he'd leaked the connection to Corpus Inversus, but Jonas had chosen to keep that card under his hat.  Besides, he didn't entirely trust Niobe Thursby yet, even months after her disgraceful bout with Muggle-baiting, and the dreadlocked witch had been his main contact at the paper. 

Either way, the sentiment was left unspoken: the girl was dead, and it wouldn't have been hard to miss it.

If he was pressuring another potential source, Jonas might have laid it on more heavy.  Pointed out the girl's age.  Talked up the broken-hearted family who had been left behind.  Brought up the fact that if someone knew something and didn't volunteer that information to the Ministry, life could very well get unpleasant if an Auror stumbled upon that fact later on.  But some instinct told him that such a strategy wouldn't necessarily be effective with Zelda Sellaphix.  Either the witch would help him or she wouldn't.  She didn't seem the sort to have much patience with manipulation.

"We found her body in Grimshaw Tailoring and Alterations.  Which it seems," he said dryly, "didn't do as much in the way of tailoring as one might imagine from the name.  You've seen their storefront, I trust, Missus Sellaphix?"

Zelda handed the photo back across the tight space that separated them.  The walls were covered in shelves, which were covered in ledgers, books, scrolls, jars, and coffers.  Tucked away on the bare wall space were little photos of two blonde boys, and a wizard with a beard.  There was a drawing too.  One small table, shaped to nestle into a corner was covered in take-away boxes and empty dishes, stacked up.  It would be clear to someone so clever as this Auror that Zelda spent a great deal of time in here. 

She didn't like being in Knockturn Ally.  Who would? It was a place where people like Cinead Tawse had roamed with impunity, where Theodora Kingstreet had set up an office - they said.  Where young girls were murdered in basements. 

"I thought they went out of business," she said of Grimshaw's.  That was one of the standard statements anyone made when Grimshaw's was mentioned.  Either that or, 'seems like they're never open'.  But it was plain enough that the answer to Trevelyan's question was a yes - she'd seen the shop.  It was an eyesore even for Knockturn Alley.

"How do you think she got here?"  She didn't seem curious.  To be honest, she was hoping to discover why an Auror had shown up out of the blue to ask about a client she and her husband had tried very hard to keep secret.  She could only think of one other person who might know that anyone, let alone the Sellaphix's, did any business with Grimshaw Tailoring.  And he was locked up tight in Azkaban for having a big mouth.