Chapter 17
The next day, closer to lunch, Severus was standing in front of a small shop in Diagon Alley with a name straightforward enough to border on insulting: "Artifacts for Everyone."
The moment he stepped inside, his gaze moved across cabinets and tables packed with trinkets that hummed with magic, and behind the counter stood a middle-aged wizard who looked very much like an older version of the former Slytherin Head Boy.
"Good afternoon. Mr. Snape, I take it?" The wizard greeted him with a friendly smile, flicked his wand, and the door swung shut and locked behind them.
"And I am glad to meet you. John's father, am I right? Where is he, by the way?"
"Waiting for us downstairs." Mr. Macmillan waved his wand again, and a hatch opened in the floor. "I am very interested in that artefact. I am prepared to buy everything you have, seven hundred Galleons apiece. What do you say?"
Severus had to work to keep the smile off his face. The man was plainly trying to seem indifferent, performing mild interest in the toys with all the conviction of someone reading a script badly. Severus wanted to tell him outright that he did not believe a word of it. He held back, and simply shook his head.
"That will not work. A single artefact costs me well over three hundred Galleons in materials alone, and that is before I count the time it takes away from developing my own abilities. Time is not cheap, especially now, with everything going on. And once the school year begins, there will be no time at all. Professor Slughorn is a serious man, and if he catches me sleep-deprived he will start lecturing. And that is without bringing up the Head of Gryffindor, who has already taken a particular dislike to me."
For the next ten minutes, Severus kept the shop owner occupied, working through his problems one by one, dragging in every teacher he could think of, including the headmaster, always finding some way to loop the artefact into the centre of whatever disaster he was describing, all while maintaining an expression of such earnest sincerity that it was almost artistic. Mr. Macmillan began twitching at the five-minute mark. By the eighth his lips were pressed thin. By the tenth he lowered his head and raised one hand.
"Enough. I surrender."
"Glad to hear it. I was running out of material anyway." Severus nodded pleasantly. "Now. Can we discuss the actual price?"
Mr. Macmillan stroked his goatee with a sound of deep displeasure, turned, and started down.
"Follow me."
Severus followed without concern. He had ten cubes tucked in his pocket under Transfiguration, and he was confident enough in his own abilities that any trap waiting below was simply a problem he would deal with. Besides, Mr. Macmillan did not strike him as that kind of man, and nearly fifty years of reading people had made Severus reasonably certain of his judgement. The man was an open book.
The stone room at the bottom was small and enclosed within some kind of barrier. John was already there, sitting at a round table and raising a hand in greeting.
"A special room for important negotiations," Mr. Macmillan said, settling into the chair at the head of the table. "No one will hear or disturb us here. Sit down. Name your price."
Severus crossed to the table under Macmillan's watchful gaze and sat opposite John.
"I have been looking into comparable artefacts for a while, and given everything happening in the country right now, I was thinking seven hundred Galleons." He watched Mr. Macmillan's reaction from the corner of his eye. "But I understand that is steep, so I will come down to six hundred. What do you think?"
John went rigid at the number. Mr. Macmillan only frowned slightly, as though he had expected something roughly in this range.
"It is expensive. What exactly makes up that price?"
"The factors I already mentioned," Severus said, letting his right eye flicker. "And full protection against all three Unforgivables."
"What?"
"Avada Kedavra works by tearing the soul from the body," Severus continued, unhurried. "An artefact has no soul to tear out. Crucio I have already tested personally: the artefact blocked it without difficulty. Imperius is rarely deployed in open combat, but the artefact repels that too. Most importantly, while the artefact is active, no Legilimens can enter the user's mind. That said, I should be honest: someone at the level of Voldemort or Albus Dumbledore is a different matter. No artefact will stop them."
"That is understandable, but—"
"It is worth every Galleon. Stop trying to drive the price down. You have already tested it. You know what it does." It is almost embarrassing to call this a powerful artefact. In my world, someone would laugh at me for saying it with a straight face. "And do not forget who needs artefacts like this most, right now, today."
Faced with how completely unmoved Severus was, Mr. Macmillan had no real choice. He knew the price was already fair, and if he thought about the wealth of people like the Potter family, or Albus Dumbledore and his circle, seven hundred Galleons was nothing. Even if Macmillan marked them up by five hundred on top of that, they would buy without hesitation for the edge it gave them in a war that had not yet gone fully cold.
"Fine. I agree. How many can you provide now?"
"Six. As I said, each one takes considerable time. Two a month is the most I can manage, and that is on barely any sleep."
"As I expected. And if I wanted to purchase the design itself?"
"One million, and it is yours."
"Just say you are not selling it." Mr. Macmillan waved his hand wearily, opened a chest in the corner, and a moment later Galleons poured out like water filling a basin, covering the table completely without a single coin going over the edge. "Ten thousand."
"Twice as much as we agreed. Why so generous?"
"I am hoping for a long and productive arrangement," Mr. Macmillan said, looking quietly satisfied, "and that artefacts like these will only be sold through my shop."
"I see." Severus considered it for a moment. "I need Galleons right now, so yes. I accept."
"Glad to hear it. Shall we celebrate?"
"I will take a rain check. There is not much time to spare at the moment, but I will happily make up for it another time." He shook Macmillan's outstretched hand. John was still staring at the mountain of gold, slightly dazed. "I do have one request, though."
"I am listening."
"Do you know any Parselmouths?"
Both Macmillans went very still.
"I know what you are thinking," Severus said before either of them could speak. "That business about snake language belonging exclusively to Dark wizards. It is nonsense. If Salazar had spoken to cats, would we call it the language of Dark wizards and assume every cat was their minion?" He looked at Mr. Macmillan with a mild smile. Macmillan stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing.
"Well said. I have never believed every Parselmouth was a Dark Lord's servant, even if most of the ones I have met happened to be Dark wizards. I am sorry to say I do not have any such acquaintances, but."
"But?"
Something flickered in Mr. Macmillan's expression, a brief, visible struggle. "I will be right back," he said, and left quickly.
Severus watched him go, puzzled, then turned to John, who promptly looked at the floor.
"You used to be more talkative."
"You used to be my junior. Now you are a business partner. My father taught me to treat people accordingly."
"I understand, but there is no need to stand on ceremony. I am not that important."
Just two of these artefacts represent six months of net income for this shop. John thought, though he kept it to himself and only nodded. I need to find a way to get closer to him. Perhaps introduce him to my younger sister?
"You have gone quiet," Severus said, noticing.
"Ah! Sorry, I was miles away. What were you saying?" John said quickly, colouring slightly.
"I was thinking about your sister, actually."
"What?"
"You think too loudly."
"You. how."
A slow, easy grin spread across Severus's face at John's expression.
"Legilimency. Nothing special. I would strongly recommend you study Occlumency with your father. Your mind is very open."
"Nonverbally." John still could not quite get past it. Only two living wizards were known to be capable of nonverbal Legilimency, and those two were the most powerful wizards of this century. The longer he sat with that fact, the more his respect shifted into something closer to awe.
Mr. Macmillan returned carrying a plain wooden box.
"This was brought to me." He stopped, clearly sensing something had shifted in the room. He looked at John, then at Severus. "Did something happen?"
"We were just discussing something."
"Everything is fine, Father," John said quickly, pulling himself together and managing a small smile.
"All right." Mr. Macmillan nodded slowly and turned his attention to Severus, opening the box. Inside lay a silver chain with a small black snake attached, its eyes set with red stones. "I have had this for twenty years and never gotten around to selling it. It lets the wearer speak and understand the language of snakes. I do not think I need to explain why I kept it off the shelves."
"I understand completely. Though I am surprised you did not destroy it. If the wrong person had found it, you would have been looking at a very unpleasant journey to a very unpleasant place." Severus drew the artefact toward himself and touched the snake, a faint smile forming. "And you are right, I was thinking too narrowly. Why learn the language when there is an artefact that does it for me? Thank you, Mr. Macmillan. You have been more help than you know. Take the cost from the ten thousand."
"No need. It has been sitting unused for years, and storing it carries its own risks. Consider it a gift, in the spirit of friendship."
"Then I accept gratefully. I am in your debt." Severus smiled, and this time it came easily, because the path to the basilisk's heart had just become considerably shorter. All that remained now was to strengthen his body, remove the curse from his sword, and he would be ready.
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