June 14, 2009
Sunday 7pm
Sellaphix Apothecary, Knockturn Ally[1]

"Figaro, stop Disapparating on me!"

Zelda Sellaphix's voice stopped her son in his tracks.  She was calling him from inside the shop he had just attempted to exit.  It wasn't so much fresh air he was seeking (hard to find in Knockturn Ally), nor sunlight (again, scarce in these narrow, macabre streets), but rather some summertime freedom.  He was sixteen, done with his O.W.L.s and the magical city of London awaited his boyish revelries and tomfooleries.

But no sooner had he stepped off the Hogwarts Express than he was shunted off to the family apothecary, the single most boring destination in Knockturn Ally.  Even at his age, he knew better than to wander to far from the shop, even in daylight hours, but he hadn't intended to go far.  Just outside the door.  Away from scrubbing barrels and dusting shelves. 

"Figaro! Let's go!"

Going back inside, he didn't hold the bell this time to keep it from ringing as he had on his way out.  His mum was at the far side of the shop at the big front counter, which was covered in stacks of parchment and piles of scrolls.  The harried witch had her reading glasses on as she poured over the ledgers and records her husband had previously handled.  But he was in Azkaban, and if the family was to keep on as they were accostomed, the shop had to be re-opened.

"I'm a Herbologist not an Arithmancer..." she'd grumbled a thousand times.

"There you are.  We'll be done soon, but I really need your help on this.  Did you finish in the upstairs stock room?" she asked, not looking up.

Figaro leaned against the desk and shrugged.  "I don't know what half that stuff is. But it's mostly clean."

Zelda looked at Figaro and paused, ready to say something else to get him moving.  But now she could see her oldest son was drained and bored.  She set down the roll of parchment and took off her glasses.  They'd been at it all day and it was getting late.  She'd hated to put him to work so soon after coming home from exams, but the sooner the shop was squared away the better off they'd be.  But the kid was rundown.

"How's this - clean the front window and we'll head out."

"With magic...?" he asked hopefully.  He was 16 until November, and until then, not legally allowed to use magic outside of school.  But many wizarding parents got more lenient when the kids started getting older, and so long it was under his mum's supervision, she'd let it slide.

Zelda narrowed her eyes at him, weighing the coming negotiation. "You're telling me you know cleaning spells?"

Figaro smiled and looked offended.  "Of course, I do.  Not a squib, am I?"

Again, Zelda weighed the statement carefully.  When she smiled, the origin of Figaro's own easy grin was apparent.  "Fine.  Don't break the glass."

1.	Details at the wiki.

What Fig hadn't mentioned to his mum was how he came to learn cleaning spells - wasn't as if any of their Charms teachers had ever had a unit on Home Magics... Fig had learned the spells in his frequent detentions - and the amount of labor he provided was probably enough to put the house elves out of work. 

Wand and rag in hand, Figaro stepped outside the darkly painted front door of Sellaphix's and stepped up to the big, multi-paned front window.  Under the grime and grit, the film of the city, he could make out his family's name painted into the glass.  He could barely see inside.  Figaro checked over his shoulder and looked up and down their part of the Alley before getting to work.  Knockturn had never been a friendly place, but the Sellaphixes had been there for three generations.  They were 'known' and that was always an asset.  But what was also known was that the shrewd patriarch would be no where to be found and maybe that made them all an easier target.  Figaro couldn't help but remember how he'd hesitated when confronted by Cinaed Tawse.  Would he be more on-the-bludger if there was a next time?

Just thinking about it make him look over his shoulder again.  A hunched figure limped by leaving a dirty trail.   A wizard with a pale face and an eye patch came out the building across the way.  If they saw Figaro, a blonde teenager, they didn't pay him any notice.  But then, he was doing it right.  Don't stare.  Stay close to the apothecary.  Don't stick your neck out.

It was in this final look-see that he saw too much.  He almost missed it.  Down the way nearby where you'd turn to head up to Diagon, two figures seemed to be talking to someone.  Figaro could barely see that it was a little girl.  He was breaking rule number one, peering hard at them, trying to be sure. 

And after another moment, Figaro threw out the other two rules as well.

With another look at the safety of the apothecary, Figaro stepped off the curb and began to walk quickly across the street and up towards the trio.  He had his wand out, down at his side, and with every step tried to get a better look at what was going on.  He was nearly up next to the men when he recognized the little girl.  It was one of Frank's friends...

The other men had noticed him by now.  "You gotta problem, boyo? Sod off!"

Figaro froze.  He faintly recognized the scraggly man as someone he was not to stare at, an old denizen of Knockturn.  The wrong sort.  But now he could clearly see the girl - damn if he could remember her name right now!

"She's with me," he said as boldly as he could.  "C'mon, you..." he then said to the girl, offering his hand. 

^{OOC: Hopefully Beth knowing Fig's name from Frank is okay. :3 Also, feel free to PP her walking with him and such. Also; Tiny post. :/ My bad.}

Bethany thought her life was over. She never looked up, never spoke a word, but somehow the man was completely focused on her. She felt her heart racing and her mind tried desperately to think of a way out of the situation. She couldn't turn to leave, she couldn't keep going... she was stuck.

Or maybe not. "You gotta problem, boyo? Sod off!" The man barked, no longer talking to her. She risked a glance up and spotted her saviour; a blonde boy a couple years older than her, who quickly calmed the situation by claiming to know her.

And maybe he did. He sure looked familliar, reminding her quickly of a boy she hung out with from time to time... That's who this was! It was Frank's older brother!

She thought hard than remembered his name quickly enough. Figaro. An odd name, but Frank had mentioned it plenty enough times for her to recall it now.

Without making a sound, she scurried over to him, giving a wide birth between herself and the creepy old guy. She snatched up his hand and huddled close, her grip a touch too tight to be calm. No a word from her yet, not until they were well away from the situation and back to safety.

To Figaro's surprise, the girl immediately latched on.  He'd been half wondering how he'd get her to come with him, if he'd have to take her hand, or pick her up.  If she'd even go with him.  But she'd nearly leaped to him and was now clinging to his side with more bony strength than he thought her small frame would be capable of.

"Uh..." he said with fantastic heroism.

The two wizards turned to face him fully, scowling at him.  For what, Figaro couldn't tell - they were degenerates.  The type his dad had always said he'd turn into if he failed Herbology... Had he ruined their fun somehow? Picking on some little girl.

"You fancy yourself brave? Could turn you inside out! I know who you are, you natty pustule!"

Figaro was already backing away, his wand up.  "Good afternoon," he said, again a true paladin of truth and goodness...

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," he urged the the little girl through clenched teeth.  Together they scurried up the street the way Fig had come and tucked themselves back inside the the apothecary.  He shut the door up tight. 

His mother, Zelda Sellaphix looked up from what she was working on at the counter.  Her face instantly worried.

"Bethany!  What're you doing here? Where are your parents?"  Her voice was colored with concern as she came around the counter to check her out, kneeling in front of them.  Normally, Zelda was known as a somewhat business-like witch and not always the most coddling.  But Bethany had always been a welcome guest and Knockturn Ally was no place for kids.

Bethany! Duh.  Figaro kicked himself for forgetting, but it was hard to keep track of the gaggle of half-pints Frank associated with.  There was always so much shrieking... 

"She's fine.  I mean, I think so.  Some skeevey sorts were hassling her," he explained and very subtley tried to pry his hand free.

Beth had, in her own mind, muted the ugly old man, so his cruel words at Figaro didn't register one bit. Rather, she followed obediently as Figaro dragged her quickly back to the building he'd come from. This must've been that old shop Frank had mentioned. She took little time to admire the old building, perfectly content with hiding out where ever that man couldn't follow.

She was mulling over her mistake when Missus Sellaphix suddenly spoke up. Beth kept still as the familiar woman worried over her, kneeling down to eye-level. Bethany's only response at that moment was a misplaced smile. She was fine.

Figaro vouched for this fact, explaining what happened. Finally, once all the talk was done, Bethany found her voice. I'm fine, Missus Sellaphix. She assured calmly with a smile. Angela and Author are in Diagon. They know I wandered off. She'd never addressed her foster parents as 'mum' or 'dad', simply because they weren't.

After all, her real parents were...

Thank you for helping me, Figaro. She turned to address the older boy, her smile becoming a touch more real as she did. I guess I was kinda scared for a moment there... but I'm okay now.

Then she turned back to his mum again. Is Frank here? Always so quick to get over being scared. Beth was certainly a strange child.

When Zelda heard Bethany refer to her parents by their real names, she was slightly embarassed - she'd forgotten that Bethany lived with foster parents.  Nonetheless, they'd be worried.  She pursed her lips and stood up, satisfied that little Bethany was unharmed. "Frank's at his cousins'.  You stay here with Figaro while I go find Angela and Arthur."

She gave a firm look to Figaro, but it softened as she said.  "Good work, Figaro.  Lock the door behind me and stay with Bethany, yes? I'll be back shortly."

The older witch gathered up her back and donned her hooded cloak.  Her keys jangled against her wand as she prepared to leave the shop, not as yet open for business.  Zelda wasn't immediately sure where to find Angel and Author Danes, but she'd make a circuit of Diagon before she attempted sending off any alarming owls.  She left the two with a forced smile and then left the shop.

Figaro was left in the shop with Bethany, alone in her tight grip on his hand.  With his mum out, he could know very firmly wrench his hand free of her 11-year-old's grip.  Loose, he went to the door his mum had exited and did up all seven of the locks that protected the little shop.

"There," he said turning back to her.  Back in his own shop, more of that blithe confidence he normally possessed had returned and he regarded the little girl with some teenage superiority.

"You'll probably be in for it, won't you," he observed.  "What were you doing down here, anyway?"

Bethany nodded, though she was slightly disappointed that her foster parents would be brought back when Missus Sellaphix came back. Also that Frank wasn't there, meaning she'd have no one to play with.

But wait. As the woman left, Bethany looked back up at Figaro, who wrenched his hand free and went to lock the door. Yes, he'd do just fine for some entertainment. He changed though, into what she'd deem as a classic teenager; cocky and lacking that friendly smile most kids had.

"I don't think so." She countered casually. "Angela doesn't mind me wandering off. She'll lecture me about Knockturn Alley but I won't be in any trouble." Then her casual smile turned cocky in itself. "I didn't mean to come down Knockturn. I just took a wrong turn."

Then she turned away to look around the shop, having never been there before. The place was a crowded little store with plenty of things to look at. "So what does you mum do here, anyways? Is it even open yet?" She wandered around a few steps, looking but not touching. The place looked a bit cleaner than the alley outside, at least. She could relax for now.

"Oi, don' touch anything," Figaro warned even though Bethany hadn't.  He crossed his arms and leaned against an empty shelf near him by the door.  Normally it was stacked with dry leaf teas from all over Asia, shaped into large bricks and discs and wrapped in paper.  They were great for infusing with essential oils or charming for divination.  But in the cold winter months a window had been broken out and the whole stock ruined.  It would take time and gold to replace it.

Bethany's question belied her young age.  'Is it even open yet', indeed.  Figaro rolled his eyes.  As the weeks past and the sting of it all had dulled, telling the tale still gave him the creeps.  Apparently, Frank hadn't bothered to tell anyone.  But then, that was probably for the better.  Frank was too young to really understand what had happened, or so much in Figaro's opinion of his little brother.

"My mother's a Herbologist," he told Bethany matter-of-factly. 

"And we own this apothecary," he reminded.  "She runs it now."

"It had to close way back in October when my dad got arrested.  The Aurors searched this place and it was a crime scene for awhile.  Now my dad's in Azkaban, since February, and we're trying to re-open.  It's pain in the arse," he said, spitting out the abridged version of the whole grimey tale.

"Hey, I said don't touch!" Figaro stood up from the shelf and took a few steps toward her.