Madam Primpernelle reacted quickly, her face breaking into a bright smile as she smoothed her skirts. "So that's it! I was just wondering how I hadn't seen such a handsome and dashing young wizard in my shop before. What type of gift are you looking to find for your family? Is it for clearing up minor facial blemishes, removing wrinkles, or simply for maintaining one's youthful appearance?"
Listening to Madam Primpernelle's practiced flattery, Alan kept his face expressionless, but he figured he should offer some engagement to keep the conversation flowing. He forced a polite smile and said, "My aunt is getting on in years and carries many worries. She's been looking a bit haggard recently. Do you have any suitable potions you'd recommend?"
Before he could even finish, Madam Primpernelle interjected, "Ah, I see! In that case, I recommend our shop's secret Primrose Revitalizing Potion. Applied once in the morning and once in the evening, it tightens the skin, delays aging, and improves the complexion. This is our flagship product!"
As she spoke, she led Alan to a velvet-lined display cabinet, withdrew a beautifully packaged crystal bottle, and held it up to the light. She even applied a drop to the back of her own hand, spreading it slowly. The effect was almost immediate; the area became noticeably smoother and firmer.
Alan took the bottle, bringing it to his nose for a discreet sniff, and secretly frowned. This was nothing more than a heavily diluted Beauty Potion. He had brewed a few of those himself to earn extra gold in the past, so he recognized the properties instantly. The formula was uncommon and a bit troublesome to prepare, but the ingredients weren't expensive. However, the production cycle was long and the profit margins were usually thin, which was why he had stopped making them.
He glanced down at the price tag. Good heavens—two Galleons for one bottle! This concoction had been watered down by more than half. *How can they be so exploitative? Is it really this easy to make money from women?*
However, remembering he was there for intelligence, Alan smiled and nodded. "Not bad. I'll take a bottle. Please wrap it for me."
Seeing how readily the young wizard agreed, Madam Primpernelle's mood brightened even further. She quickly and skillfully packaged the potion in fine paper and ribbon.
At this point, Alan asked casually, as if making idle small talk, "By the way, do you know whose house that is next door? My family is interested in opening a shop in Diagon Alley soon, and that spot seems quite good, yet they don't seem to be doing any business."
"Oh, opening a shop? What kind of business is your family planning?" Madam Primpernelle asked, her voice taking on a cautious edge. She didn't doubt his identity—Alan was well-dressed and spoke with the quiet confidence of a prominent heir—but she was concerned about potential competition.
"We'll probably open an alchemy boutique. There's only one shop in the Alley that specializes in Quidditch supplies, and quality alchemy tools aren't sold much in this part of London," Alan explained, sensing her worry.
"Oh, I see." Madam Primpernelle breathed a sigh of relief. "If you're interested in the building next door, it might be a bit of a headache to rent."
"Why is that?"
"That house hasn't seen a customer in a very long time, and almost no one knows exactly who owns the deed. The owner is incredibly mysterious." She paused, tapping her chin as if searching her memory. "However, a while ago, I occasionally saw Julia Malfoy going in and out. Oh, wait—she should be called Julia Travers now. I always forget she married into that family. Perhaps you could ask the Travers family about it."
*Travers?* Hearing the name, Alan's internal map clicked into place. It seemed enemies always crossed paths. He silently grumbled to himself, *You people are everywhere.*
Seeing Alan looking pensive, Madam Primpernelle continued, "I'd advise against an alchemy shop, though. Those troublesome tools aren't very popular in Britain, and they're a nightmare to repair. Aren't those trinkets usually specialties from Egypt? There used to be an alchemy shop here years ago, but the goods simply didn't sell and it went bankrupt within months. If your family is truly interested, you might as well open another bar. Tom's place at the entrance is packed every night; a second pub would be a gold mine."
Ignoring the shopkeeper's unsolicited business advice, Alan smiled, paid the two Galleons, and walked out of the shop without looking back, disregarding her eager farewells.
Once outside, Alan immediately pulled his hood back up. He glanced at the inferior potion in his hand. The bottle was of high quality; he decided not to throw it away. He could dump the contents later and use the crystal to hold something actually useful.
He detoured to the Owl Post Office and sent an express letter to Augusta, informing her that he would be staying the night at the Leaky Cauldron to catch up with Tom and that she shouldn't wait up for him.
With his cover established, Alan remained cloaked, crouching in the shadows of a narrow alleyway directly opposite the target building.
"If there are no surprises, the Travers family is sheltering Yaxley. The problem is how to catch them all at once. The Ministry Aurors, hindered by 'procedural justice' and the Travers patriarch's status on the Wizengamot, won't break in without ironclad proof." Alan watched the house, which remained as silent as a tomb.
"Moreover, there are likely alarms or traps set up inside. They definitely have a fireplace connected to the network. Rushing the front door would alert them, and they'd be gone via Floo or Apparition before the wards could be suppressed. That's probably why the Order of the Phoenix is just watching. If they raid the place and find it empty, they'll face a political firestorm. I need to know exactly what's happening inside before I move."
"First, reconnaissance," Alan thought.
He subtly reached beneath his cloak, and a dark raven took flight, heading straight for the stone building.
*Studying Bloodline Magic hasn't been without its rewards; at least the shared-vision technique for the Avis spell was developed in time. Unfortunately, the range is only a hundred meters, but for this, it's enough.*
Alan gently closed one eye. Suddenly, the raven's perspective flooded his mind. The bird crossed the street, circled the roof twice, and landed silently on a third-floor windowsill.
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