A Curious Visitor

Wade's dark hair, fair skin, and blue eyes contrasted greatly against the appearance of most of the wizards and witches walking near him. Most of them looked dirty, ghastly, and older. Their eyes had wrinkles around them, and deep bags under them. Not to mention the putrid smell that their bodies left behind; a trail of the most disgusting mixture of sweat and death.

Turning away from them, Wade quickly put his hood up and walked towards Borgin and Burkes. His father had often talked about the store, and Wade wanted to know what the big deal was. At first sight, Wade should have run away from the place: it was everything Lucy would fight and chase when she finally became an Auror.

The windows were dusty, adorned with what seemed like thousands of shrunken heads, and barely any light could be seen in the store. Pushing the door, Wade finally entered, not surprised by the lack of hygiene that the inside of the store had. There was a fireplace, which he thought was a nice touch, but above it where frightening mask that gave him an eerie feeling. To the left where beautiful gemstones and jewelry, although he didn't have a clue as to why they would be there. And there were photographs too, which Wade inspected curiously before his eyes landed on something else.

However, footsteps coming from what seemed to be a second floor startled him, making him almost knock the cabinet with the jewelry down. His hands managed to stop it, and Wade turned around to see who the footsteps belonged to.

The echoing sound of footsteps were owned by a man who was possibly immaculate compared to the property he 'maintained'. Wade could see the figure turning from the bottom steps to be sporting a modern pea-green jacket over jeans and tan brogues, a few books in his hands, finally looking up from the one he was particularly engrossed into. Peering up at the other entity in his establishment, his mousy, quizzing expression thought through the movements of the young man that had strapped himself to the first jewellery cabinet from the front door. Judging by the child's startled expression and a few stands inside the glass box, knocked over, he would gather the obvious, that the youth had jumped out of his skin. Deeming it best to see to it, Alistair stepped out from his counter to meet and greet, tending to the frightened child's condition.

"Well, who- ah..." Alistair smirked to himself, his whole posture changing from skitty and kind, to one of command and confidence, realising his audience from their notable skin and fluid hair. "Master Malfoy, my apologies for not recognising you sooner. I don't think I've seen you before in here.. Bit dangerous on your own, no?" He softly trod his steps closer, keeping a predatory smile upon his lips, effectively slithering the rest of the way until he was up, close and personal with the younger, potential and exclusive customer.
"What could I possibly do for the youngest of his generation of the family of my most loyal buyers?" Oceanic-blue eyes bored into the other pair for a few seconds as he took in the Malfoy trademarks.

Looking around, he wondered how the man knew his name. If based on looks, he was nothing like the typical Malfoys. His hair wasn't blond, and his eyes weren't gray, but he guessed there must have been something in him that gave him away.

"No, this is my first time visiting your....shop." he said, struggling to call the establishment what it was as it was simply interesting and dark. "My father has told me a lot about this place, the whole thing really." He motioned to the world outside, which now seemed too distant and different.

Something about the way the shorter man moved reminded him of a snake. The slow, cautious steps, the wicked, mischievous smile; it was all surprisingly familiar. In all his life, he had not yet met someone with eyes bluer than his, but this man was the exception. There was something breezy about them, and Wade couldn't help but feel a small spark of jealousy.
"I'm simply browsing, looking around." He answered. "Mostly seeing if there is anything that interests me." He added.

He couldn't help but let a light chuckle leap forward from his mouth at the idea of letting the young man lance around like a bull in his proverbial china shop, especially after nearly dropping a whole cabinet to the floor on it's side. The whole of the mystical contents inside, nearly priceless.
Moving quickly to the front door, Alistair turns the door sign to 'closed', taking out his wand from his jeans and locking the door with a simple enchantment.
"This is a private curio for select members of the public, and if you wouldn't mind, Master Malfoy, I will accompany your first visit to an establishment you will will likely most frequent in your future years to come. I can solve any problem that persists you, mark my words." He keeps that devillish smile across his lips, hardly backing down from the challenge of suppling someone with the means to a circumstance that can be averted, denied or taken out of context entirely.
"For example, what would you say to..." Short, calloused fingers stray inside the cabinet the boy had just bumped into, "..This.. Most useful artifact of the.. Hm, eighteenth century." He comments as he brings out the palm-sized magnifying glass in both hands, turning it over to show the quality.
"Simply named Janus by the soothsayer that sold it to me originally, it reveals deep secrets of both affection and hatred of a person on differing sides of the lens, for example," He aims to demonstrate, "You're afraid of your Sister, Lucy, over-coming you, being better. I see. At least I have a name to the sibling now." He laughs to himself, explaining that the secrets come up as seared writing in the skin, the glass showing them open to the world's eyes, open for judgement by the Gods apparently.

Why is he locking the door? He thought as the shorter man closed the store completely. Wade's question was answered as soon as the man explained the necessity for privacy. Following the man's hands, Wade's eyes settled on what he was holding. It was a magnifying glass of decent size, too simple to be as great as the man said it was. His puzzled look, however, turned into amazement and curiosity as the object's ability came up. He was about to ask what he saw in him as the man demonstrated how to use it, when his words caught him by surprise. 

"She's not my sister." Wade accused. "But sometimes I feel like she is..." he muttered. Thinking about what the man had said, about being afraid of Lucy being better, of her being the best out of the Malfoys, he couldn't help but feel scared as the words were true. Hearing the man's laugh, Wade shakes his head. "I would love it, but if it's going to reveal my secrets to others, I would rather not posses it."

Giving a further one-over on the young Malfoy's skin before placing the glass back in his palm, Alistair helps himself to a few more secrets, simply giving a toothy grin as he taps it lightly in his hand.
"It is what's written upon your skin like firefly blossom, but, wherein this artifact fails. The context can be askew to the meaning and must be interpretated by those who know more than face value; which are unfortunately, few." He places the item back on it's stand and points out a dainty, ornamental crystal vial on the lower shelf.
"If you're looking to change your fortunes however, I have some potent Felix in stock if you require it so, or other potions and poisons in the back which affect your opponents rather than have yourself at risk; say for example, winning duels. Your reasoning is yours."
Alistair shrugs, a mild frown appearing upon his brown after he shuts the wooden glass cabinet, looking at Wade once more.
"I am a believer in the fates, Master Malfoy, and find it rather unacceptable for you to simply run down here off the normal streets in oblivious childish curiousity. There must be something... perhaps if we go about the room, or you check the catalogue updated for today. I have not many new acquisitions for wanting to have a complete inventory of the building, you see. The place is permanently never-ending in secret rooms and nooks to find if one searches." With a small nod of his head, Alistair confirms himself before finding his delivery owl shoot through the rafters from the chimney and to his desk behind the counter, carrying a letter of blue in it's clutches.
"Let me see to that, you may wander for a few minutes alone..." Here, he reaches quick as a shot, the darkly-sorted figure showing compensation for his short stature and power in agility, grabbing the boy's wrist and forcing him to come closer and hear the harsh words through his gritted teeth.
"If I see that an object that is missing from the display, in your possession at any time without purchase, and I will if it happens, there will be severe punishment by my hand. The last unfortunate to do so lost his duelling grip, but understand I can be much more creative when a message is to be put across with needs must." The tight grip is lifted off the Slytherin pupil's wrist, suddenly to retrieve the new mail, taking written pages out from within the envelope and sitting down to his desk behind the counter, to read in peace.

Unable to say anything as the man spoke, Wade found himself wondering what he even hoped to find in this place. Watching carefully as the man moves, Wade can't think of anything to say, that's when the man suddenly said something about fate.
 
"I knew where I was going. I'm just looking around." he responds defensively, a hint of arrogance in his voice. Before he said anything else, an owl flies into the room, startling him a little. His wrist suddenly snatched, Wade found himself face to face with the short man. He could see real danger in the man's eyes, so he simply listened, payed attention to what he could get himself into if he stole anything, or even attempted to do so. Once finally free, Wade softly rubs his wrist with his free  hand, easing the man's strong hold.
 
"You know, for a man of such appearance, you're not what I thought you were." Wade admits out loud. "I'll take a look at the catalogue then." His hands found the book on the counter, and he paged it without a hint of interest. That is, until he remembered something. "When my Uncle was younger, he bought the Hand of Glory from this shop." he said, looking up at the man. "Do you happen to have something similar to it? He refuses to pass it on to anyone, not even his son." he confesses, "And also, I would like some Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, though I don't know if you carry it or if I would have to buy it somewhere else." He knew it would most likely be at Zonko's but he didn't want to walk back to Diagon Alley. "If you don't then, do you have a blood quill?" he asked, remembering how he was subject to Wayne's torture methods with it.

Lowering the letter after finding it's contents agreeable, Alistair grins at the child, knowing he is not the first to say that, but in the calmest manner yet since the Great War.
"The hand of Glory is a very unique artifact, Master Malfoy. I have yet to aquire it's twin, who is said to do something similar, I'm told from contacts. Otherwise, I would have to place the best innocence upon your face and peer upon your Uncle with purest puppy-dog eyes." The shop-keeper places the letter inside his jacket, coming back from inside of the counter to check the front for any changes; eyes keener to him than any surveillance kit.
"I have something better than that odouress swill from Zonko's." He sneers from the length of his stubby nose, going to the cabinet in the far-off corner and picking out a purple, leather bag tied up with crude string. "This may be what you're looking for entirely. Able to discombobulate the outsiders to your presence, it is a complex powder that gives off a white blaze of smog, sparkling into the faces of others and forcing them to keep their eyes closed.. so that you may do what you will. Very useful." The shorter male places the item on the side, rushing over to pick out a pair of fully purple spectacles, metal guards making sure the entirety of the owner's eyes are kept enclosed within the eye-wear.
"These are an early prototype that were unfortunately leaked into the hands of muggles. They call them 'Night-vision eye-wear' and developed them for what muggles find everything always boils down to: Money and weapons. It highlights solid forms into a picture that produces itself onto your lenses, letting you see through the dark or.. smog. If there were to ever be an incident such as that."
The owner of the establishment grins wide to the boy, settling the item next to the bag and whisks upstairs rather quickly for an older, smaller form than that as normal. Alistair immediately darts back down with his rear upon the bannister, jumping off down to the bottom and placing a tube of differing sizes of quills upon the table, each one marked out what they can do, including some that are for the notorious nature of drawing blood from the back of the user's hand.

"Will there be anything else, Sir?" He says from behind his counter, hands outstretched to lean on either side of him, upon the wooden top.

Wade rolled his eyes at the man; his humour was entirely unnecessary. At the mention of having something better than that of Zonko's, Wade raises an eyebrow. The man comes back from the cabinet with a purple leather bag, and Wade listens closely to what he'll say. Despite all, Wade has come to realize in the short time he'd been here, that when that man speaks, he must listen.

"Night vision?" Wade chuckles. "That's something for Muggles." Still paying close attention, he glances at the purple bag, already thinking of ways to use it. It's then that the man brings him the quill he asked for, and this single item holds Wade's attention more than anything else in the shop. The simple memory of everything Wayne did to him coming back and hardening the boy's heart. "No, that'll be all." he says, waiting for the man to tell him the total price.

The items are taken from small, grubby hands and packaged in their rightful containers behind the desk, all as he shakes his head in disappointed disgust at the young lad.
"But -we- actually invented it before them. Lumos technology: the muggles just replaced that with 'e-leck-try-ci-tee'. What do they teach you at this school of yours?" The older man repeats, scoffing at the effort of having to do so. He searches, after bagging up the items into a discreet brown, paper bag, under the counter for a musty accounting book and blowing off the dust from the front cover, never-minding he was doing so in Wade's general direction.
"So, a measure of Muumaxa Root: grounded, and Prototype Lumos Goggles. That'll be two-hundred and fifty-two galleons and I'll throw in the quill, Mr. Malfoy." He speaks without beat, checking his book over again and nodding to himself, not reacting at all to the outstanding price he has set for the young Hogwarts scamp; simply because of knowing from such a known wealthy family: such luxury is standard and to be expected.