Chapter 28: 28th July 1991, Sunday: Part 16

That mangled purple hand didn't give George a good first impression, and things only got worse once he turned around and saw the man obstructing his path. The guy looked like the embodiment of the stranger your parents told you to avoid. The bulbous nose, long thinning ginger hair, drooping bottom lip and bloodshot eyes blended together to make a face only a mother could love. The oversized black raincoat and the knee-high leather boots really brought the whole child-catcher ascetic together. In conclusion, George wouldn't trust this guy in a million years.

"Have I got something on my face, little man?", the stranger threateningly asked.

Nothing other than a few oily stains and a car crash of facial features, but George felt honesty wasn't the best policy in this case. Clearly, he had been staring at this creepy fellow's deformities for too long. It was a stupid mistake that could get him in a lot of trouble around these parts. Most, if not all of Knockturn Alley's residents were either former criminals or the dregs of society. It wouldn't take much to offend one of them and George didn't exactly have anything to defend himself with. A wand was just a fancy-looking stick until he learnt how to use it, and his innate fire magic took time to build up before he could make it deadly.

Fortunately, this degenerate didn't draw his wand after George's ogling. The fact he was only an eleven-year-old boy probably worked in his favour. Adults had the nasty habit of underestimating children, it had been one of George's greatest assets. That being said, this guy didn't look like the kind who would go easy on him when push-comes-to-shove. George needed to find a way to make tall dark and hideous step aside without pissing him off. Considering the intelligence brokers' notoriety, perhaps telling him the truth would be the best course of action.

"I'm here to see the Broker", George stated calmly.

The stranger seemed amused by his claim, "you're here to buy information? Yeah right, and I'm the Minister of Magic. Don't make me laugh. Now get lost before I put a curse on ya."

A vein started to bulge on George's head, "I'm not joking. I need to see him right now."

"And I'm not joking either, you little gob shite. Now, bugger off!", the stranger spat back.

Being so close and yet so far from his goal was really starting to wind George up the wrong way. He didn't come all this way just to turn around and give up now. Meeting his patron had to happen today, it was a matter of life and death. Since diplomacy wasn't working and magic wasn't an option, there was only one thing left to do. George lunged forward and punched the stranger as hard as he could right between the legs. The guy never saw it coming and he did not attempt to avoid or block the surprise attack. The fist connected, and George heard a popping noise that sounded like two billiard balls colliding.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!"

His punch must have been effective because the guy immediately keeled over and hit the cobbled floor with his purple hands clutching his groin. To be extra safe, George walked over to the half-conscience man and felt around under his coat. It didn't take long before he found a pretty beaten-up wand, it was in such a bad condition that the core was sticking out of the tip. Unsurprisingly, this guy must be a little short on money and couldn't afford a replacement. George pulled the barely functional wand out of the man's coat and threw it into an open gutter. That way, this miserable fellow would have to return to where he belonged if he ever wanted to cast magic again.

The doorway to the information broker was now clear, so George might as well take full advantage of that before anyone else comes to bother him. He pushed the door open and walked inside the 'store' only to find several empty cupboards which appeared to have been neglected for decades. It was completely silent except for the faint sound of squeaking as rats ran back and forth in the corners of the room. George continued further inside until he reached a collapsed counter with broken cash register parts littering the floor. The only thing that didn't look abandoned was a shiny copper bell mounted to the wall.

He pressed the bell, and a muted chime quietly echoed through the room. While George waited, he looked around and understood why his patron had chosen this place to meet. The bleak atmosphere felt oddly reminiscent of home, not with the Linwoods, but before. His patron liked it dark and gloomy, it seemed to relax him after a long voyage outside. George guessed that's probably the reason why he liked his current room plain and simple, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree after all. Knowing that he was about to see 'him' again was only just settling in. It had been nearly a year now, and George wondered if he might have changed in that time. Maybe his patron would have missed him and would treat him nicer than before.

George was snapped out of his thoughts by some magical waves radiating off the wall. After a few seconds, a thick black fog began to pour out of the cracks in the peeling wallpaper until the wall was utterly obscured. Then the fog suddenly vanished, and there was a jet black door which wasn't there before. The newly formed door swung open and an illusive figure walked out of a room void of all light. This person was draped in pure black robes that even George's eyes struggle to see clearly, it must have been enchanted to distort people's perceptions. Every part of their body was covered with several layers of fabric, making it hard to distinguish if they were a man or a woman.

The only thing George could discern about this person was that they were roughly five and a half feet tall, and they walked with a limp. There was a good chance that the height and limp were part of the disguise, so he really had nothing to go off. Since this meeting was prearranged, George felt no fear or need to defend himself. Even though this person was clearly very powerful, they had no reason to harm him. George just needed to be brave and keep his cool, everything was going to be fine.

The shadowy figure walked right up to him and asked, "what do you desire?"

Just like their appearance, the voice had no gender or distinct accent. It sounded ethereal like a ghost, but that was probably a side effect of the enchantments.

George took a deep breath and responded, "I would like to buy a blue cauldron with silver handles."

The figure slowly nodded, "we have only one that meets your requirements, but it's covered in rust."

"That should be fine as long as the price is discounted", George concluded with cold sweat running down his back.

That was it, now there was no going back. Hopefully, his patron wouldn't be disappointed with him so far. There had been some unexpected events, but the plan was still on track. Nothing was wrong so there shouldn't be any reason to call the mission off early, right? The mysterious figure disappeared into the pitch-black room and returned after only ten seconds had passed. They walked back up to George and presented two items to him. In the right hand was a small bag that looked like it was made out of human skin, and in the left hand was a small piece of folded parchment. George was a little confused but received them nonetheless.

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"Are you satisfied?", the shadowy figure asked in its ghostly voice.

George looked into the void room before saying, "isn't there going to be someone else?"

He only got a slow shake of the head in response. That could only mean one thing, George's patron wasn't going to meet him today. He wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or worried, something like this had never happened before. His patron said he'd be here, why wouldn't he come? Maybe that's what the parchment was for, to explain what had caused this deviation. George put the skin bag under his arm and unfolded the parchment. The only thing written on it was, '14th December, the Shrieking Shack'. So that message didn't exactly clear anything up, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to work out what his patron wanted. It looked like their reunion was being postponed for another four months.

George was about to ignite the parchment, but it burst into flames as soon as he finished reading it. His patron must have enchanted it which was surprising since the paper didn't give off any magical radiation. Perhaps there were some enchantments George couldn't perceive. That would explain why the information broker had a black fog convalescing around them instead of colourful lights. George then looked at the bag of human skin and gave it a gentle squeeze. He could feel dozens of marble-sized 'sweets' inside, there was easily enough to last him until December. At least his patron had given him an abundance of medication to remain human, rationing his dwindling supply would have been practically impossible whilst at Hogwarts.

George gritted his teeth and pushed the fleshy bag under his shirt for safekeeping. It was a pain shoving a melon-sized bag up there, but his patron would make his life a living hell if the 'sweets' were discovered. Once the bag was firmly lodged in place, the front door slammed open and a man came stumbling in.

"I'm gonna wring your neck, you little piece of shit!", the stranger bellowed, sending spittle flying in all directions.

Oh yeah, there was that guy to deal with. George might have forgotten about him in the heat of the moment. Punching that fellow may have not been his greatest idea now that George thought about it. Luckily, the stranger didn't have his wand, and he looked about as steady on his feet as an Irish man on Saint Patrick's Day. It shouldn't be too hard for George to outmanoeuvre him and disappear back into the crowds at Diagon Alley. All of George's thoughts of escaping were interrupted as the stranger's body was flung across the room like a rag doll. He smashed through three rotting shelves, sending dust and splinters of wood everywhere, before slamming into a brick wall.

"What have I told you about harassing my clients, Francis?"

George looked back at the Broker and saw that he was now brandishing a long white wand. Actually, it was less like a wand and more of an exotically decorated walking stick. It was over three feet long and was engraved in silver in a language George didn't recognise. The Broker then raised their wand, and the stranger's body was lifted into the air via his hands like an invisible rope was tied around his wrists. The expression on Francis's face had morphed from absolute fury to pure fear.

"Please Boss. I didn't mean to. It's that boy. He made me... AHHH!"

The Broker flicked his wand and the fingers on Francis's right hand bent in the wrong direction. The sound of several bones snapping was like poetry to George's ears. It served that idiot right for trying to push the blame on him. If he hadn't blocked the way, then none of this would have happened.

"What did I just say? Do you need me to repeat myself?"

"I'm sorry, Boss. I won't do it ag... AHHHHHH!"

The Broker flicked his wand again and the fingers on Francis's left hand bent in the wrong direction as well. The cracking was even louder and George was pretty sure he could see some bones sticking out of Francis's bleeding knuckles. The sight of a man dangling from his shredded hands was beginning to get a little graphic. Maybe this would be a good time for George to depart. He might be eating some ice cream soon, and he didn't want to upset his stomach beforehand.

"This disobedience of yours has become a habit, Francis. I fear that we have passed the point of forgiveness."

"No, please. I'll do better next time. I promise!"

There was a ghostly sigh before the Broker looked down at George.

"If sir is satisfied, then he may leave in his own time."

The Broker didn't have to say that twice, George was plenty motivated to skedaddle. For one, he didn't want to get blood on his Sunday best, and two, his family might have noticed his absence by now. George politely bowed his head at the Broker and booked it out of the derelict shop. As soon as the door to Msaw Ætare closed, George could hear the muffled sound of agonising screams behind him. He couldn't be sure what was going to happen to Francis, but George doubted he would be seeing that creep again.

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