‘Quite the charmer you are’, Elena remarked coolly when Sue had gone. ‘And here I was, thinking that people like you wouldn’t even talk to Muggles.’
‘Prejudiced, are we?’ was Draco’s slightly scathing reply.
‘Or perhaps I heard too many stories about your kind.’
‘You’ve been consorting with ‘my kind’ for the last few months.’
Elena opened her mouth in protest, wanted to say that this was entirely different, that Jack wasn’t ‘his kind’, hadn’t been for a long time, but she saw that it only made for a futile debate. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked instead.
‘He told me where I could find you’, Draco explained; no need to ask who ‘he’ was, ‘and to take you with me to practice.’
‘Occlumency’, Elena said with a nod. ‘Take me where?’
Draco smiled slightly. ‘My place. You’ll see.’
Elena wondered what kind of a place that might be and her curiosity resurfaced. She asked Draco to wait and went to the cramped staff bathroom to clean herself up and change her clothes. Then she took the young wizard out onto the street and found an inconspicuous place to Disapparate. He took her hand with an ironic quirk around his mouth that reminded Elena that they would have nothing to do with each other if it wasn’t for Jack Daysen, wouldn’t even bother to speak to each other politely but for him. That man held a peculiar power over them both, and when Draco and Elena looked at each other, they saw it on each other’s faces and it made them grin a little ruefully.
At about the same time in Diagon Alley, a heated discussion was going on in the back rooms of ‘Cleary’s Clearest Potions’. Sitting at the kitchen table, Janie Cleary was confronting her husband with a few simple but disagreeable truths. It didn’t come easy to her, but she did the best she could. After all, she and Castor had promised each other that there must never be a lie between them ��� in their eyes, this was the very foundation of a successful marriage ��� and that truths must always be spoken out, because silent assent was as much a lie as a faked one.
‘It isn’t working out, Castor’, she said, her voice slightly trembling as she knew that this was the last thing he wanted to hear, ‘not in this way!’
‘Show me another’, he demanded in a hoarse voice. There we deep rings under his eyes and his shirt was spotty from spilt-over potions, ‘it just takes time ���’
‘Yeah, but by the pace you’re going right now, you don’t have much time left before you’ll have a nervous breakdown!’ Janie implored him with her eyes. ‘Look at you. You appear ten years older than you are and I haven’t seen you laugh in ages ���’
‘Well, sorry if I have things on my mind!’ Castor Cleary spat out testily.
Janie inhaled deeply. ‘That’s exactly it, love. You have things on your mind all the time, and there’s nothing left anymore. For me, for your friends and for ���’ Gently, she touched the soft swelling of her belly. Instantly, Castor’s face softened and Janie took new courage. ‘I understand that you want to make this shop work. It’s your dream. But, honey, there’s a point when you have to cut losses ���’
‘That point’s still far off!’ Castor said firmly. ‘I’m not giving up just yet!’
‘Castor, you’re down there with your cauldrons day and night! You hardly sleep, you have no other topic of conversation than the shop, you’re changing ���’
‘No one said that it was going to be easy! I never expected it to, though you obviously did!’
‘No, I didn’t!’ An angry line appeared on Janie’s forehead as she hit the table top with a flat hand. ‘I was very much aware that establishing a shop on Diagon Alley would be hard work. But this has gone way beyond, Castor, and it’s taking its toll. Just think of Madam Landry’s Cleansing Potion ���’
Castor snorted, but the sound was a complicated mix between frustration and mirth. ‘Well, the old gal did get her colon properly cleansed, didn’t she? Perhaps a little more thoroughly than she expected, but ���’
Janie supressed a grin and set her face in a determined scowl. ‘She could have become seriously ill. There might even have been permanent damage, you were just lucky. Next time, however ���’
‘You absolutely have to paint the devil on the wall, don’t you?’
‘I’m telling you that you have to sleep! Get a rest every now and then! Or such mistakes are going to happen all the time, and next time might be serious ���’
‘Bell’, Castor interrupted, raising his head and looking startled.
‘What?’
‘Shop bell. There’s a customer.’ He made to get up, but Janie pressed a hand on his shoulder.
‘Don’t. I’ll go.’
She jumped up and left the kitchen in the direction of the sales rooms. However, she came back after a few seconds, eyes wide.
‘What is it?’ Castor asked curiously.
‘You’re not going to believe who’s here’, Janie whispered.
‘Who?’ he half got up from his chair.
Janie was suddenly very flustered and her words came out in a frantic rush. ‘You have to take this, Castor, I can’t! You know how it was at Hogwarts, he always made me stutter with this glare of his, I’m only going to mess it up ���’
Now Castor’s eyes widened and he pushed past her towards the shop. In the middle of it, perusing the shelves with an expression of lazy interest, stood a thin, black-clad figure, turning sharply at the sound of approaching footsteps.
Castor Cleary swallowed, then found his sales voice. ‘Professor Daysen’, he said with faked confidence, ‘what an honour to have you here.’
Jack Daysen turned and looked the shop owner up and down. ‘Mr Cleary’, he silkily acknowledged his presence.
Castor cast a quick look over his shoulder and saw Janie hiding behind the curtain that parted the shop from the private quarters beyond. He could feel her apprehension and it infected him. ‘What can I do for you?’ he asked as evenly as he managed.
Daysen didn’t reply for a moment. He had a very shrewd look in his black eyes as he continued to survey Castor, no doubt making assumptions and stowing them away in his mind. Then he took a few steps forward, pulling something out of the pocket of his robes. ‘I was given this. And told that it was from your shop.’
Castor stared down on a knot of dried Gillyweed that looked exceptionally rough around the edges. He groaned inwardly. ‘I’m sorry about that, sir, this isn’t what we usually sell. I don’t know how ���’
‘Not your fault’, Daysen interrupted, ‘the witch who gave this to me thought it was a good idea to send it by owl.’
Castor Cleary started to understand. ‘Oh, I see, that explains ���’
‘Yes. I had hoped that your sister would put some sense into her, but I realize now that it is going to take a while ���’
‘She’s been very helpful. Elena.’ Castor swallowed, realizing that he sounded like a benevolent teacher praising a pupil in front of its parent. (It wasn’t even true; only this morning he had berated Cassie for taking her friend along all the time and paying her, too, when they were so skint.)
‘I’m sure she means well’, Daysen said with a sigh, ‘but she has a tendency to refrain from thinking. ��� Anyway’, he pointed to the Gillyweed, ‘apart from the fact that this has been impaired by owl, I find that it’s of surprisingly good quality. I’ve seen standards sadly declining in that regard.’
Castor nodded eagerly. ‘You want more of it?’
‘If you please.’
‘On my way!’ A voice piped from behind the curtain.
‘My wife’, Castor explained ��� unnecessarily ��� to Daysen. Feeling a little glum, he observed the man ��� his erstwhile teacher whom he’d equally feared and admired ��� strolling around the shop, inspecting jars, cans and vials. It was obvious that Daysen knew exactly what his presence meant to a young and struggling keeper of a potion’s shop because he moved
with a nonchalant dignity. Castor watched the shop windows. As per usual, a lot of people were bustling about outside. Hopefully, some would look in, see what was going on and tell their friends and neighbours that Jack Daysen was shopping at ‘Cleary’s Clearest Potions’. Such recommendation was better than any advertisement in The Daily Prophet or The Potioneer’s Post.
Daysen then started to ask questions on the potions on sale, on the ingredients and methods used. Castor replied curtly and to the point, however, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being a schoolboy in an exam situation. Every moment now Daysen would deal out a grade, and that reminded Castor how next to impossible it had been to achieve an ‘Outstanding’ with this man. No matter how much you’d crammed your mind, he’d always find the gaps and various other flies in any kind of ointment.
Janie burst in, carrying ridiculous amounts of Gillyweed. She looked flushed, and when her eyes met Daysen’s, she curtseyed involuntarily and murmured a breathless ‘Hello’ which the Hogwarts professor acknowledged with one of his characteristic curt nods. He gave the Gillyweed an ironic once-over. ‘That should be quite enough’, he remarked with a crooked smile.
‘My sister knows a spot in France’, Castor intimated, ‘the Mediterranean, you know, it’s ���’ Janie’s sharp elbow nudged him in the side. ‘I mean ��� of course, I can’t ���’
‘I understand’, Daysen purred, ‘trade secret. Your wife is right, you shouldn’t give such an advantage away.’
Janie’s colour deepened and Castor fidgeted.
‘How are you doing, anyway?’ Daysen asked casually. ‘With the shop?’
Castor cleared his throat. ‘It’s ��� um ��� difficult.’
‘Very difficult’, amended Janie with a hopeful look at Daysen. However, the latter seemed unimpressed.
‘I can only imagine’, he said silkily, ‘tight-knit bunch, the Potioneer’s Guild.’
‘You can say that again!’ Castor sputtered.
‘That won’t be necessary since it’s such a well-known fact’, Daysen said lazily. ‘Are you going to meetings, Mr Cleary?’
The glance Castor and his wife exchanged was almost unnoticeable, but bespoke their bewilderment at the situation; who would have thought that Jack Daysen, of all people, might take an interest?
‘If I can’, Castor replied hesitantly. ‘The shop’s a lot of work, you see, I cannot always make it.’
‘I keep telling him he should go more often’, Janie chirped.
‘Hmm’, was Daysen’s noncommittal reaction. He was inspecting another shelf close to one of the windows. It held ‘pink potions’, mostly beauty products and was hence an unlikely choice of interest for him; Castor sensed that Daysen wasn’t really looking at the items on display at all. And in fact, after a while the older wizard raised a thin white hand and waved to Castor impetuously, conveying his wish for a few private words. Janie got the hint, too, and stepped back while Castor cautiously joined Daysen at the window.
‘Sir?’
‘Those guild meetings’, murmured Daysen and looked over Castor’s shoulder to make sure that Janie couldn’t hear him, ‘I guess there’s some gossip?’
‘Potioneers like to gossip’, Castor said with a shrug, then suddenly remembered who he was talking to. ‘Some of them, anyway ���’
‘I thought so.’ Daysen’s black eyes fixed a point in mid-air. ‘Heard any mention of Abelard Ainsworth lately?’
‘Ainsworth?!’ Castor glared at the other man. ‘I thought he was in Azkaban?’
Daysen frowned. ‘So you know even less than I do’, he concluded with a sigh. ‘No, Mr Cleary, Ainsworth is not in Azkaban. He was, for what he did ��� no doubt you know what it was ��� but the powers that were let him go about a year ago.’
Castor wanted to say ‘You know much more about the powers that were than I do’, but bit his tongue just in time. ‘He was heavily into dark arts, wasn’t he?’
‘Yeah’, Daysen grinned crookedly. ‘He fancies himself a demiurge, that one. Likes to create.’ A slight emphasis on the last word conveyed Daysen’s disgust.
‘I heard. He made homunculi and had them slave around his house. I hear he also made female ones for his personal ��� pleasure ���’
‘Which was the reason why he was locked up’, Daysen confirmed. ‘Rightly so; there’s a reason why that kind of thing is illegal. A sore temptation for any potioneer, of course; they all want to have a personal Golem to do their dirty work.’ He slightly shook his head in a ridiculing way.
‘So why didn’t they lock Ainsworth up again after the victory?’ Castor wanted to know.
‘Because they couldn’t find him’, Daysen said and there was an angry flash in his eyes. ‘There was too much emphasis on pursuing Death Eaters, which gave Ainsworth a good head start. Now it’s like trying to find that bloody needle in the proverbial haystack.’
‘Are you trying to find him, sir?’
Daysen nodded gravely.
‘To put him back into jail?’
‘No.’ Daysen carefully observed the reaction visible on Castor’s face, but he wasn’t prepared to say any more. ‘If you hear anything about Ainsworth ��� specifically where he might be found, or if you hear of people who might know where he is ��� would you inform me?’
Castor opened his mouth and closed it again. He thought quickly. ‘I might be able to help you, sir’, he said eventually, but with a pointed sly look. He knew that Daysen wasn’t stupid, and as he had expected, the older wizard picked up what he was trying to say.
‘I’d appreciate it’, Daysen said, and his own sly look easily equalled Castor’s. ‘But now for the Gillyweed. Let’s have a look.’
And a look he had, a very thorough one in fact. He didn’t praise it, but Castor could see from the expression on Daysen’s face that he was satisfied. With carefully probing fingers, he chose a few knots and had Castor pack them up. Then he handed him a list of stuff he needed ‘to replenish his stocks’. As he collected the desired items, Castor felt a happy quickening of his pulse. He knew very well that this was a straightforward transaction and that in exchange for spending money in his shop, Daysen expected solid information. However, after doing a quick calculation in his head, the younger wizard realized that he would make more today than he had in the past three days, and it was all the motivation that he needed. Plus, out of the corners of his eyes he saw that a small crowd of people had gathered in front of the shop windows by now, curiously staring at the sinister customer who appeared to be spending a substantial amount of money on ‘Cleary’s Clearest Potions’.
‘So you’re still at it? I hear you’re teaching DADA now.’
‘I am’, Daysen confirmed haughtily, ‘but I do stuff on my own time.’
‘It’s like a bug’, Castor said conversationally, ‘making potions.
Daysen replied with a wan smile which reminded Castor that the man hated idle babbling, and so he collected the rest of the wanted ingredients in silence. Daysen surveyed all the items critically, then ��� with a wince ��� paid quite a hefty sum.
‘Let me know if you’re satisfied’, Castor said after he had made his customer a neat package.
‘I will’, replied Daysen with a pointed look. ‘And you’ll let me know if you ���’
‘��� hear anything. Of course.’
‘I’d prefer active hearing to a passive one’, Daysen instructed him, then glanced sideways at Janie, encompassing her with his demand.
‘We’ll do what we can, Professor’, Castor promised solemnly, hurtled to the shop door and opened it for Daysen. ‘Thank you for coming, sir, it was a pleasure to be of help.’
Another vague smile. ‘Let’s see who’s helping who. ��� A good day to you, Mr Cleary’, and with a nod over his shoulder, ‘Madam Cleary ���’
And he left the shop at a rapid pace, not looking back and without so much as a glance at the curious spectators outside. He walked a small dista
nce down Diagon Alley and suddenly, with a sharp crack, vanished from view.
Yet, Castor stared at the spot for a while, breathing. Janie came to his side. ‘Can we agree that you’ve earned yourself a few hours of solid sleep now?’ she murmured gently.
Castor smiled at her, then kissed her on the forehead. ‘You know what? That’s exactly what I will do.’
After Apparating near Hogsmeade, Jack Daysen enjoyed the brisk walk to Hogwarts in the damp winter air. His sense of time told him that he hadn’t long before the next DADA session with fifth-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, and an interesting lesson it would be as he intended to speak about Dementors. It usually had students sit on the edge of their seats which was a nice change from the usual disinterest and incomprehension they displayed. Also, he was quite pleased about the stuff he’d bought as his keen eye had told him at once that Cleary’s products were way above average. He had, at first, resented Elena for sending him the Gillyweed. Not so much because she had done it by owl without properly packing the stuff, although of course it had been an unnecessary waste; rather, he had frowned at the implied demand that he go and check out her new friends’ shop. As a rule, Jack Daysen didn’t like people telling him what to do, he didn’t even like them to suggest to him what he might want to do. In the end, however, he might have found a little treasure on Diagon Alley, as well as a potential source of information. Plus, the thought that Elena would most certainly hear about his shopping spree and be pleased about it (and hence sweet and affectionate) might serve as an advantage, considering the new blow he had prepared for her ���
However, he didn’t want to think about this now and rather turned his mind to Abelard Ainsworth. The thought of that notorious and brilliant potioneer had come to him spontaneously one night after he had, once again, taken a look at the samples of satyr skin and the hair from the hellhounds. He was positive by now that the offending creatures he’d lately encountered were manufactured, created by obscure alchemistic processes. He was also very much aware that not any potioneer could do it ��� making living creatures involved complex methods, and only a small number of witches and wizards were able to fathom those. It had thus made sense to Daysen to focus on known suspects, and since Ainsworth had been conspicuously absent for months, considering him was obvious. However, he would be hard to find, and in his mind Daysen went through all the options he had while climbing up the slope to the castle. ‘Patience’, he told himself, ‘anyone can be found. It only needs patience and determination ���’
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