Chapter 118. London.
The next day, standing outside the airport, Severus shook hands with the writer and smiled.
"Thank you for your help, Mr. Brew."
"And thank you, Mr. Snape. In a single day I learned more about those jungles than I have in my entire life. I could die happy now."
"Don't joke like that. You've got a long life ahead of you still. My shop will soon carry new stock, a rejuvenation potion. I promise you a good discount if you ever visit me in London. And I'm certain your son will recover too." At that, Brew looked briefly startled, but a moment later he recovered his usual expression and answered with the same steady smile.
"Thank you, Mr. Snape..." Brew said sincerely, bowing his head.
"How about we use first names? And also..." A book appeared in Severus's hand. Brew was surprised again: it was one of his own. "Will you sign it?"
"Of course, of course! It's a great honor!" A pen appeared in Brew's hand and he signed the first page quickly. "By the way, I haven't seen your subordinate since yesterday."
"My associate," Severus corrected with a faint smirk, thinking of how much Fredge hated that word. "He took a different flight."
"I see. But do be careful around him," Brew added, more seriously. "He's a very dangerous man."
"I know. I'm well aware of that." Severus glanced at his watch, which already showed 12:45, slipped the book into his wallet, and nodded. "Thank you for seeing me off."
"And thank you, Severus... truly. As soon as my son recovers, we will absolutely come to visit."
"I'll hold you to that," Severus replied, and Brew smiled at him, with genuine warmth.
The flight back was far more pleasant. No terrorists, no incidents of any kind, so he could rest and watch the views through the window.
He even managed to doze for a while, waking only when a stewardess offered him tea.
He could, of course, have had a house-elf take him directly to London, but he found that way of traveling dull, and there was no reason to rush: school was still more than a month and a half away.
Especially now, when he finally had room to breathe.
While he sat on the plane, he also caught up with events in magical Britain at his leisure, and the first thing to genuinely surprise him was the Death Eaters seizing the initiative once more in the civil war.
Not long ago they had lost a significant number of dark wizards, some of whom had fled, and several magical beings that had fought alongside Voldemort had abandoned the cause. Yet somehow, almost miraculously, they had managed to defeat and kill just over thirty Aurors out of sixty-two, despite the Aurors holding the numerical advantage. Worse still, they had publicized it, as if eager to display the Aurors' shame and helplessness before dark wizards. The article's tone was almost gleeful, as if the editor had savored every grim line.
There were no details beyond the death toll and the presumed victors, but it caught Severus's attention nonetheless. A little over a week ago, everything had pointed to victory for the "good" side, and this sharp reversal looked suspicious, as if someone had extended a helping hand to the Death Eaters and they had seized it, not with gratitude but with the hungry joy of predators finding fresh blood.
Apart from this "good" news, the house-elf had brought him another piece of news, and the elf had looked miserable: some suicidal idiots had attempted to rob his shop. They had nearly succeeded, had it not been for Tobby arriving in time and driving them off, though the robbers had still escaped. They had left almost no sign of forced entry.
What was most striking was how cleanly and competently they had worked. Not only had they chosen eleven at night, when both Shafiq and the elf were out, they had also used some unknown artifact that disabled the alarm and protective charms completely, as though they had been planning the operation for some time.
Severus blamed no one, and he doubted any of his people had betrayed him. Anyone else might have immediately suspected an employee, and perhaps that was precisely what the thieves had intended. The problem was that the shop held only a week's worth of supplies; the three-month stock was split between the house-elf and Shafiq. If Shafiq had wanted to rob him, he could have walked away with those potions at any moment, but Severus paid him generously enough to make that unlikely.
He could not even hazard a guess at who was responsible. They had acted too well, which meant these were not common thieves but some organized group after his recipes, and easy money besides. A small portion of the potions from the basement was missing, and his room had been left neat, but the book propping up the wardrobe had definitely been examined. He had placed several charms on it, and when it was opened, those charms disappeared. There were similar traps elsewhere in the room, and the charms were gone from each of them, as confirmed by the house-elf, who knew about all of them. Shafiq had known about only one, so Severus did not believe he was the betrayer.
In just a couple of days, too many strange things had happened, putting Severus on edge. Everyone knew about the Ministry's protection over him, yet his shop had still been hit, and at a time when the government of magical Britain was being especially ruthless toward its enemies. They did not hesitate to use Unforgivables during interrogations, and at the slightest provocation they tossed people into Azkaban without trial.
Severus suspected that a fourth side had entered the war, one backing the Dark Lord. With that in mind, the attack on his shop was no longer surprising. They might have wanted to demonstrate to the Ministry where their loyalties lay, and that they did not fear it.
By that same reasoning, the Death Eaters' victory in such an unequal confrontation could be explained by support from that fourth party. These were only his thoughts, of course, without confirmation or proof. Yet he was certain he was thinking along the right lines, and Shafiq had already begun searching for the attackers through his contacts in the darker corners of magical Britain. Severus, however, was not about to leave everything to him. It was still his shop, and whoever had attacked it had insulted not only the Ministry of Magic but Severus himself. They had, in effect, spat in his face and run, and Severus was not the forgiving sort.
When he arrived in London, Severus skipped Muggle transport entirely. He Apparated almost immediately to Diagon Alley, which had grown quiet and dim again, as it had during the worst stretch of the Ministry's losses in the civil war. Even the air felt heavier, and fewer lanterns seemed to be burning than before.
"I was only gone for about a week, yet it feels like a whole month," Severus murmured with a wry smile, gazing at the shuttered shops and the subdued wizards who would not even glance his way and seemed to be hurrying somewhere with their heads down. For the only magical market in London, it was profoundly unnatural.
"Diagon Alley has changed a great deal since we left," Nagini agreed, glancing sadly to her right, where the sweet shop that had sold that magnificent banana ice cream used to be.
"When the Ministry wins, it'll open again," Severus said, picking up on her mood and offering what comfort he could.
"Mm..."
Looking further down the alley, he noticed two suspicious figures glancing his way, then pretending to examine the wizard standing to his right.
Hmm. Meeting one of them directly in the eye, Severus skimmed the surface of their thoughts. It only took a couple of seconds before they looked away. Death Eaters, openly showing themselves in the Alley. It seems I've underestimated the scale of the problem. They noticed me by chance, and one has already gone to report. No matter. I'll deal with it later.
Shaking his head, he made for his shop, reading the passing wizards' thoughts to get a clearer picture of the situation.
A few minutes later they reached the building, which, compared to everything around it, had not changed at all in their absence. The sign still shone, drawing the eye, and the entrance was as clean as ever. The glass display case stood out most of all: three potions behind it, their names, properties, and prices written in careful script, everything gleaming. A familiar warmth stirred in him despite the tension outside.
It was no accident that I left the house-elf here, he thought with a proud smirk, glancing at the neighboring shops with their gloomy fronts that drove customers away simply by their appearance.
Just then a middle-aged woman stepped out of the shop. Shafiq followed her out, smiling with a faintly dazed expression, waving goodbye to her. But the moment he spotted Severus, he froze. Severus regarded him with a faintly mocking look, walked past, and went inside.
A few seconds later Shafiq came to his senses and hurried back in. Wearing a guilty expression, he bowed his head before Severus, who had settled at the table to the right of the counter.
"Mr. Snape, this... well... there weren't any customers just then, so I..."
"Why are you making excuses like a scolded child? I don't care about your personal life. Just don't slack off while you're working. You're not slacking, are you?" Severus asked pointedly, narrowing his eyes, and Shafiq went pale and shook his head several times.
"N-no, never..."
Severus could not help laughing at that, which only embarrassed Shafiq further.
"I'm joking. Calm down. If you manage to start something with that woman, I'll only be pleased for you." He winked, then let his gaze drift around the room with a touch of nostalgia. In recent months he had barely set foot inside his own shop; the house-elf had handled deliveries and reports. "All right, tell me what happened. A written report is one thing, but I want to hear it in full detail. And have you found anything?"
When Severus asked, Shafiq sobered at once and nodded grimly. He still felt guilty that someone had broken into the shop on his watch and he had not caught them. Swallowing, he began, "Yes. It happened three days ago..."
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