11-11-2011
Grimshaw's Tailoring and Alterations
Knockturn Alley

Grimshaw's was very likely the most dodgy, most haunted, and most discreet hole in the ground tomb of a storefront in Knockturn Alley. There should be a historical placard. The main floor of the shop was a museum of a tailors with ominous silhouettes of headless dress forms and manequins. Racks of cards of fabric, disembodied hat stands. Everything covered in a thick layer of unholy dust, all blanketed in thick cob webs. There were clearly dead things at rest in drawers. Luckily, the backroom had seen more recent use. It's blackened windows allowed only slices of light onto its sparse furnishings. It was the ideal place for compromising ethics and making thieves deals.

Hermes, as he'd been calling himself these last few months waited just inside the front door, peeking out a crack in the tattered curtains for a sign of the buyer. He'd already hidden the unicorn blood on the premises - far safer than having it on his person. And frankly, the stuff creeped him out. He'd had plenty of time since taking the job to get squicky about what he'd agreed to. There was nothing good, even on the chaotic axis, about unicorn blood.

But money and boredom were a powerful pair. They had the joint effect of dulling the pit in the stomach and thrilling the doubt from the brain.

A figured across the street. Nate lit his wand red three times.

November nights were cold, fall worming its way into winter. Impatience coiled in Lorelei's chest, each puff of breath revealing her damaged soul, expelling her life into the air. Too much time had passed since August, since Abby Reid had escaped her. She didn't have much time left.

On the crumbling cobblestones of Knockturn, her worn boots made little sound, and she kept a hand close to her coin pouch, aware of the weight of it, of every tinny little jingle summoning a horde of ne'er do wells. If the dementors didn't get to her first, then some thief would slash her throat in the street one of these nights. Let them try. Let them come. Her hand twitched on the handle of her wand.

She paused, gray eyes surveying Grimshaw's storefront. Three red flashes shone in the window.

Hermes was waiting.

Lorelei flashed her wand blue once in response. She crossed the street, heart rate quickening, every muscle tensing to fight or flee.

Hermes. Her lips curled up. A god of... what, exactly? He sounded like the one who shot love arrows into idiots. But whatever his hobbies, his reputation as a thief had proceeded him, and he'd seemed capable enough when she'd first met him. She'd left feeling good about the arrangement.

Since then, her mind had twisted the encounter and conjured terrible tidings. Had he been a little too quick to agree? A little too cocky? A little too nonchalant?

What if he left a trail that led the authorities to her? What if he guessed who she was? What if he turned her in?

As she opened the door of the shop, she kept her wand close to her face as she always had since her own mother had managed to fire a shot off at her. The dim light of her wand illuminated pale gray eyes in a pale face, and borrowed, dainty features drawn in determination.

A few curls of her red hair peeked out from under her hood. Her skin crawled in a dull wool robe, the gray plaid pattern faded and rough. In a room inside her mind, a pentral was crying. It grew louder and louder every day.

Facing this Hermes, he didn't look like he were carrying anything on him. No bow. No arrows. No vials of unicorn blood. Only blood would quell the voice and keep her soul strong. It might even save Leander from the mental carnage the dementors had caused.

Lorelei glanced around the darkened shop, remaining close to the front door. Her nose itched.

"Did you get it all? Where is it?"

Lore spoke plainly, flicking her wand. A ball of light separated from the tip and bobbed throughout the room, brushing into cobwebs as it lit the dark corners and crevices where Aurors might pretend to be coat racks. Every lumpy shape and mannequin made her want to hex something, but they appeared to be alone.

It was her alright, the witch who hired him three days ago, but something was wrong. It felt like she was ... falling apart; that was the only way he could put language on the dread that surrounded her. She looked sick, but that wasn't it. It had been there before, a faint of it.

Nate drew back, keeping his wand close. It wasn't fear so much as something deep inside him wanted to be as far from her as possible. With a deep breath, he pushed the dread down and scratched his jawline. A self-soothing gesture, he guessed.

On paper, there was nothing to worry about. This part of the deal was almost always tense, especially with new people. Nate had found that almost everyone wanted the hand-offs to go smooth. A double-cross was always messy and messy was costly. So, why bother?

"I've got it. It's here," he said. He stepped away from her for a moment to check the street again. Finding it deserted, he turned back to her.

"And you have your side of it?" Nate nodded at her hand which she had held tight against something on her person. Truth be told, he wanted to be rid of the stuff as soon as he could.

Hermes drew back, scratched his jaw, glanced outside. Lore's gaze sharpened, following his glance. What or who was he looking for? He'd better have it. The worse she felt, the less she liked people in general. She liked them less and less the older she got, the less she interacted with them, the more she killed. Funny how that worked.

She pulled out the coin purse and jingled it in the air like a child's rattle.

"As agreed." The pouch disappeared into the folds of her robe again.

"You can count the coins once I've seen the vials, Hermes." She emphasized his alias ever so slightly, her mouth twitching into a mockery of a smile. Her gaze remained watchful, tracking his every move.

She'd told him to call her Lucy, if he must. What could she say? She had a penchant for 'L' names and red hair.

'Hermes' returning the jangling of the payment with a sardonic smile and a tip of his chin.

"I think I'll do just that, Lucy," he replied. He pivoted nimbly on his heel and made his way towards the back. His way followed the very faintest of trails in the dusty floor, his own footsteps from earlier when he'd safely stowed the unholy treasure against ambush. Ambush by 'Lucy', Aurors, or ... worse.

Just a few steps into a tight corridor he stopped and faced a wall with peeling green wallpaper. He felt Lucy's eyes on him, but it didn't matter if she saw. From his pocket, a stick of dusty black charcoal. Nate wet the end of it with his tongue and began to draw a rune circle on the wall. When the last fehu branch was drawn, the barely visible black markings suddenly ignited, revealing a crispy hole in the wall.

Inside, a case.

Nate slid it out, glanced at Lucy and continued to the back room where they could each do their counting. He set the case down and opened the lid. Inside, nestled in curled husks and straw were seven pearly vials. In the presence of something so brilliant that he'd stolen, Nate's complexion waxed. Pride in solving the problem wasn't exactly pride in the job well done.

"There it is. And I've got to say, it wasn't pleasant. You do this before? Because this is my first time." He stood back, crossed his arms, and by words seemed to engage in this not-so-small-talk casually. But they were talking about unicorn blood, nothing small about that. Along with the creeping ick was also a perhaps equally ominous curiosity.

Lorelei stood behind Hermes, the light of her wand revealing the charcoal markings he made on the peeling wallpaper. She clenched her jaw, glancing at the window and around the shop again. What was he doing, fiddling with hidden compartments? She hated meeting on someone else's turf. Give them space, and lackeys felt the need to get creative. As if runes could protect him should he cross her.

He plucked a case out of the hole in the wall. She met his glance with an intense stare, every step he took towards the back of the shop only heightening her paranoia. The case was in his hand. It was in his hand. It could be a portkey to Azkaban, it could be rigged with explosive runes-

      I hope it burns your face off.

A voice pounded in her mind. She shook her head once, scowled, and mentally shoved the pentral back into its cell.

In the back room, the light of her wand flitted about and returned to her again. Empty. Hermes opened the case to reveal seven glittering vials. Good. He'd done what she'd told him to do.

Now he was talking. Oversharing. Asking questions he shouldn't be asking.

Lorelei lifted one of the vials out of the husks and straw, her wand light illuminating the silvery liquid within.

It looked like unicorn blood, but anything could be made to.

"Unpleasant, was it? Did you kill the unicorn yourself?"

Her eyes remained on the vial, its contents reflected in her gaze, giving her face the semblance of life and vibrancy that her voice lacked. Wind rattled the blackened window panes as the shop settled and creaked around them. Lore listened, keeping Hermes in her peripheral vision.

She uncapped the vial and sniffed it. It smelled coppery and metallic, like blood, but sharper and sweeter. Carefully, she dabbed a drop onto her finger, and rubbed it between her forefinger and thumb. It beaded on her fingertips, pearly silver. Just the right color and consistency.

Relief and sudden thirst swept through her. No more pain, no more yammering voice, no more addled brother.

Lore smiled at the vial in her hand.

"No." Nate's lip curled in disgust.

No, he hadn't killed a unicorn. And if Lucy had told him he'd had to, he wouldn't have taken the job. There were loads of types on the monster taxonomy and whatever Nate's shortcomings he was many a long branch away from unicorn butcher.

Besides, killing a unicorn was only the first part, wasn't it? From what he was learning, it was a highly skilled task recovering the blood before it went bad. And moving about seven vials? That had been nothing compared to the casks that could be recovered from a single doomed beast. No. This take had ... fallen off the back of a truck, to be cute.

No, somebody on the Ministry payroll was going to get sacked when a different bloke needed someone to get thrown under the bus when the lock was found in powder form. And, if they were all clever, they'll find the leaky procedure Nate had discovered and fix it before another seven vials went missing.

The falling-apart witch had begun inspecting the merchandise. Nate had expected she would. She'd done what Nate hadn't and actually opened a vial. Truth be told he was as relieved as she seemed to be that it was real. When you took the stuff directly from the Ministry of Magic supply chain there was a confidence in the quality, but you just never really knew it was good until you tried it...

"If you're all set there, it's time for galleons," he said, interrupting her intimate moment with the soul-cracking syrup.

No. Such disgust in a single word! She filed his squeamishness away in her mental book of Lackey Limits. He was probably the type of person who didn't like to think about how the bangers and mash ended up on his plate. And that was fine. That was valuable. She didn't need the ferryman to kill, just paddle through a skeleton river, pluck seven bones out and throw them to the sea witch on the island. That was Greek, wasn't it? Hermes was a Greek god of sailing, or whatever.

What mattered was he'd delivered the real deal.

Lore stoppered the vial and placed it back inside the case. When he reminded her about the coin, she looked at him. She closed and latched the lid. Her smile grew wider. The blood was in the case and the case was in her hand.

She drew the coin pouch from her robe and held it out to Hermes with her blood-stained fingers.

"Oh wait," she drew the coin pouch back. "You didn't actually kill the unicorn. That's a few galleons off right there. You know, I thought you might have. But one, two more, for me."

Her voice had life to it now, the nearness of the blood inspiring her. She pocketed a few coins and glanced at the case with a thoughtful look.

"You didn't sample any, did you? That'll cost you another galleon."

Her gray eyes narrowed with exaggerated seriousness, holding his gaze.

"No?" Her tone turned innocent, raising her eyebrows. "Did you want to?"

She held out the coin pouch again, her index finger extended with the drop of drying blood on it.

Though her hands were cold and her head pounded and her wand hand twitched, she resisted a laugh, enjoying this. At home she only had the mopey house elf to torment. And this was not torment, this was her in a good mood. He'd know, he'd understand if he bothered to open the purse and count the coins. She hadn't shorted him. She'd given him the exact amount for seven vials.

Her jokes counted as extra.

"No." No, he didn't want to sample the unicorn blood. He was enjoying being fully a mortal human with an intact soul. It wasn't ideal, but it was the best of upsetting options.

Nate reached for the gold but the small, waxy witch with her deep hood and wild, wavering voice snatched it back. The magnitude of his eye-roll could have peeled paint. He crossed his arms put his hand on his jaw. For Merlin's sake. Why was everyone he met at this job insane? Why didn't normal people pay him to steal things?

The thief glared at the ghoul as she seemed to delight at inventing reasons to short him.

"Oh, come off it. Are you new?" he asked, clearly pained. They should be done by now. The longer they stayed here the more likely it was they were going to be discovered. He'd been careful, but Knockturn Alley was crawling with unpredictable vermin always creeping for some hole to soil.

"Free advice. You wacky twit. Pay what you owe. That's literally the only rule."

He was vexed, but there was a spot of worry in the pit of his stomach. He knew nothing about this witch other than she wanted unicorn blood. And she was clearly erratic.  The alias 'Lucy' - and it certainly was an alias - was unknown in Knockturn. Although not for long, probably.

Nate quickly grabbed the purse and half-emptied it into his hand, quickly seeing how much she'd left him. Once during his tally, he glanced to check on her, her and that twitchy wand hand. His own wand wasn't as ready now that both his hands were full.

It was all there. He slipped it all the galleons back in the pouch and fastened it tightly. 

"You're a very funny person, Lucy," he said without joy.

Was she new? This time Lorelei did laugh, a dry chuckle at his discomfort, very graciously ignoring his advice and minor insults. Her alias was new. If she were truly cautious, then she wouldn't have chosen a name like Lucy, the name of a woman she'd killed years ago and whose house she was currently inhabiting. She would have put on a normal act, made Hermes want to continue fetching things for her without question. But she wasn't normal. Where was the fun in playing it safe?

She missed her circle of desperate lowlifes who had scattered when the lakehouse had gone up in flames. They hadn't asked questions. They'd done as they were told. Also, they laughed at her jokes.

"I think so, Hermes," she smiled again, a little more sharply. She hefted the case, her wand in the other hand.

"We're good then, you can go," her smile dropped as her tone turned businesslike. "You'll hear from me if-"

Both 'Lucy' and 'Hermes' snapped their gaze to the door. A loud creak from out in the main room, too loud to be the wind or the old building settling. Too sharp to be a rat or grindylow. From Lucy's reaction, he could tell this wasn't her doing.

Nate quickly prestidigitated away the payment, a helpful hiding spell he'd used to hastily stow away the Muhra Glass even under a hitwizard's attack.[1] The spell had been his ticket out of Azkaban, and so he trusted it.

Wand out, now less concerned with Lucy, he crept to the door. He might have just cut and run, but he thought it better to be sure of who'd found them and get some idea of how much they'd seen.

1.	18 May 2009 - A sound in the night

As the self-proclaimed president of KABANA, it was always delightful to see shops opened up and personal transactions being completed.  It didn't even matter that, from where Cinaed perched on a nearby rooftop, he could neither hear nor see what had brought the two figures below to that particular doorway.  It also mattered none that the transaction was likely dubious in nature.  The Knockturn Alley Business and Neighborhood Association was very indiscriminate in the neighborhood activities it endorsed. 

Curiosity, eventually, got the better of that particular magpie and he lifted off from the rooftop and glided into a shadowed courtyard. A moment later, Cinead was tugging a thick, long black cloak over his shoulders and stepping out into the glory of Knockturn Alley.  He reached the front door of the little clothing shop and slipped inside, a broad grin sliding across his face when he was greeted with a raised wand.

"Oh come now, put that away," he greeted, jovially.  "Put that away before you put someone's eye out.  Unless that's your intention."  Which wouldn't be the smartest move, but Knockturn Alley wasn't, exactly, known for the smarts of its denizens. 

As if that had been his intention all along, Cinaed flipped through the fabric on the closest rack, humming in approval or tssing in disapproval at regular intervals.  "Just conducting quality control on behalf of the local businesses.  Are you satisfied with your transactions?"

She was going to kill Hermes for setting her up!

Gritting her teeth, Lore slipped the case of vials inside a large enchanted pocket hidden on the inside of her plain robes. The enchantment softened the edges of the case and made the contents feel lighter than they were. She needed her hands free to strangle the newcomer. Hermes crept to the door first. She followed at a distance, wand raised.

A hulking mass of a man perused the shop. Strangling him was out, then. She couldn't see him very well in the dark room, but could just make out the outline of his beard and long hair. Her gaze flicked to him and Hermes and back again. A comedian. A comedian who acted like he had some power over this shoddy place. She liked to be the one cracking bad jokes in shitty places. The shop suddenly felt too small.

"No," Lorelei bit out. "There's an extra cloak here no one asked for."

Did the cloak run red? Her wary, intense gaze settled on the stranger. She kept Hermes in her peripheral vision.

"Hermes, explain."

Cinead Tawse. Again. Nate's stomach twisted into a painful knot. How. Of all the killer, purist, scum in this town it was Tawse he always bumped into, the man whose life Nate had almost destroyed. Nate didn't need Cinead knowing he was 'working' again. As far as anyone knew, Nate had gone straight.

He did lower his wand. Once Nate had got the jump on Cinead but he didn't expect to be able to pull it off many more times. For the moment, the bigger wizard was across the shop. Nate could crack out of there. Probably should, honestly.

"Hermes, explain."

The bizarre Lucy demanded answers of him and Nate flashed her a furrowed brow. How was this his fault.

"Cinead Tawse," he said making introductions with a flourish of his palm.

"And we," he said with a fake smile, "are done here. You two get acquainted if you please, but I've got work in the morning."

"Oh for holy helga's hippogriff's sake, no need to be so jumpy, either of you."  One, or both, of them was on the brink of heart attack and what could they do, if that happened?  Slowly Cinaed shook his head all while casually slipping off his cloak and trying on a rather dashing-looking navy blue robe from the rack. 

"If Level 2 were to show up, you two would get a free pass while they were busy getting off on the hope they'd be the one to grab me."  Sure, Cinaed was completely aware it sounded pretentious but that didn't mean it wasn't true.  He'd been laying low long enough that it had been years since the Ministry had gotten a proper glimpse of him.  Green, cocky recruits probably spent their first year boasting to their mates that they would be the ones. 

These two should be thanking him for being their insurance policy. 

The blue wasn't quite his color and Cinaed ditched that robe while Hermes offered an introduction.  A bit one-sided, perhaps, but that didn't matter. 

"Of course you were done; I have enough basic manners to not intrude on a private transaction."  Besides, they were all friends here.  There wasn't any need to be so cold about it.  "And, of course, you're welcome to leave but that doesn't mean we won't talk about you." 

As if he'd neither seen nor cared about the woman's nervousness, Cinaed took a confident step forward and extended a hand.  "As he said, Cinaed Tawse.  Always nice to greet the new faces on the block."