"No?" Snape cut in, pulling out his money pouch again and shaking it lightly.
The sound of the Galleons colliding was enticing.
"N–no..." Mr. Borgin said hesitantly, his eyes never leaving the pouch. "It's just that... one moment, Mr. Longbottom."
After saying that, he ducked behind the curtain behind the counter.
Moments later, Mr. Borgin came back out carrying a small box.
"I hope these will satisfy your needs, Mr. Longbottom," he said cautiously, opening the lid.
Inside, there was a messy heap of wands, some bore the rough traces of repair after cracking, others had suspicious dark-red stains on their handles.
"Should I even ask where these came from?" Snape said disdainfully, picking up one wand. "How much?"
"You have a fine eye, Mr. Longbottom," Mr. Borgin said vaguely. "These were all reclaimed through official channels, and they function perfectly. The one in your hand is made of elder wood and unicorn hair, very powerful, and only thirty Galleons."
"If it were truly that powerful, it wouldn't be sitting here," Snape sneered, tossing the wand back into the box. "Five Galleons each."
"That's not right, Mr. Longbottom!" Mr. Borgin protested pitifully. "These wands are of top quality! Twenty Galleons, lowest price. You know Ollivander's sells new wands for seventy each; my price is less than a third of that."
"These mismatched second-hand goods of yours, and you still want to charge full custom prices?" Snape said coolly. "Five Galleons each. I need ten."
Mr. Borgin's face twisted up. "Seven Galleons," he said through gritted teeth. "That's the same price Ollivander gives to young wizards. After costs, I'll be losing money."
Snape thought irritably, You're definitely running this business without any real costs; your 'stock' probably came from corpses. But it didn't matter. He wasn't short on money.
"Fine," he said. "Seventy Galleons total."
He then picked through the box, selecting eleven wands that seemed in decent condition, and tested one that felt the most natural in his grip. A pleasant warmth flowed through the wood, resonating faintly with his own magic.
"Pack these up," he ordered.
"You took one extra..." Mr. Borgin murmured.
"Are you selling or not?" Snape narrowed his eyes.
"A–alright," Mr. Borgin swallowed. "Consider it a gesture of friendship."
He took out a black leather pouch and began packing the wands.
Snape placed seventy-seven Galleons on the counter. While Borgin worked, Snape drummed his fingers rhythmically on the wood.
"Mr. Borgin," he said suddenly, "don't you have any bigger business around here?"
"What kind of big business do you mean?" Mr. Borgin's hands paused.
"For example," Snape said, "goblin-made silverware."
At once, Mr. Borgin's eyes gleamed.
"Oh, that would be a big deal," he said in a lowered voice. "You know, since the Goblin Rebellion of 1612, almost no new goblin silver has come into wizard hands. A single piece is worth at least a thousand Galleons."
Snape knew this perfectly well. From the memories of the house-elf Hokey, he had learned that Caractacus Burke once tried to buy a goblin-forged armor from Hepzibah Smith for five hundred Galleons, and was still refused.
"What sort of goblin silver are you after, Mr. Longbottom?" Borgin asked, snapping Snape back from his thoughts.
"Weapons." Snape replied curtly.
"For collection purposes?" Borgin asked curiously.
"What else?" Snape said impatiently. "What use could they have otherwise?"
"Oh, plenty of use!" Borgin said, slightly offended at the dismissal of his expertise. "Goblin-forged silver doesn't need polishing, repels dust, and absorbs things that strengthen it."
"That just makes them excellent collector's items, doesn't it?" Snape replied dryly. "You don't even need a house-elf to clean them."
He didn't care if Borgin thought he was an easy mark. His encounters with Abraxas Malfoy and Fenrir Greyback had confirmed one thing, his power was far greater than he'd previously believed.
If Borgin could help him obtain goblin silver, all the better. If he tried anything foolish, Snape didn't mind making some extra profit. After all, a thousand Galleons wasn't a small sum.
"Weapons are rare and expensive, sir," Borgin said. "If it's armor you need, I might be able to find a few incomplete pieces."
"I already have goblin-forged armor at home; I'm short on weapons," Snape replied coolly. "Alright then, forget it."
He picked up the pouch of wands and turned to leave, only to be stopped by Borgin's voice.
"If you're truly after goblin-forged weapons, Mr. Longbottom," Borgin said, "you might want to try No. 135 Knockturn Alley. A goblin named Flix lives there."
"Got it. Thank you, Mr. Borgin," Snape nodded. "If I find something satisfactory, I'll come back to thank you."
"No need to be so polite," Borgin bowed slightly. "If you're satisfied, Flix will see I get a commission."
Snape pushed open the door and stepped out of Borgin and Burkes. The bell above the door chimed softly behind him.
As he continued deeper into Knockturn Alley, the buildings grew even more decrepit, their blackened walls scrawled with strange runes.
Hooded figures hurried past, avoiding each other's eyes. Snape could feel several gazes lingering on him briefly, but when his sharp eyes swept over them, the watchers instantly vanished into the shadows.
No. 135 Knockturn Alley was a crooked two-story house, as nondescript as its neighbors. The paint on the door was badly peeling.
Standing before it, Snape raised his wrist to check the time, only to find that the white clouds on the face of his watch, the one Eileen had given him as a coming-of-age gift, had turned to dark storm clouds. The tiny birds on the dial huddled at the bottom, trembling.
It was the first time he'd noticed the watch's dial could change.
"Interesting," he murmured, glancing up at the narrow strip of sky. Though the alley itself lay in shadow, the sliver of blue above showed that it was still a clear day outside.
The change in the watch was clearly a warning. Snape's lips curled into a cold smile as he drew his newly bought wand from his sleeve.
He didn't bother to knock. Instead, he pointed directly at the creaking wooden door and silently cast Confringo.
Boom!
A flash of fire erupted. The explosion rattled half the street.
The door shattered into pieces, cracks spreading across the wall; the entire building seemed to sink slightly.
Amid startled cries from inside, Snape already stood framed in the doorway, shielded by Protego Totalum, his wand leveled toward the source of the sound.
"Petrificus Totalus."
A goblin with a large head, yellow-grey skin, and long limbs coughed amidst the debris. Before he could react, his arms and legs snapped together, his body locked rigid, and he fell face-first with a thud.
Snape turned sharply toward the street. A few curious heads had poked from nearby windows.
"Anyone else want to come in and play?" he asked coldly.
The heads vanished instantly; windows slammed shut.
Confirming there were no further threats, Snape repaired the door with Reparo. Within seconds, the house looked as decrepit as before, but whole again.
Then he stepped over to the fallen goblin and nudged him onto his back with the toe of his boot.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Flix," Snape said, looking down into the goblin's terrified eyes. "Mr. Borgin sent me. I heard you have goblin silver?"
The goblin's nose was bleeding dark green from the fall.
"Oh, your nose is broken," Snape said with a frown. "Episkey!"
A flash of blue light mended the injury instantly.
"See? I'm so friendly." Snape glanced at his watch again; the dial now showed sunny skies once more.
"Seems you've become more cooperative already," he said lightly. With a flick of his wand, ropes from Incarcerous bound the goblin tightly, and he lifted the Petrificus curse.
"You've insulted me!" the goblin screeched the moment he could speak again, glaring fiercely. "I will not sell you any silver!"
"Oh?" Snape dragged a chair over and forced the goblin into it before sitting down opposite. "So that means you do have goblin silver, then?"
The goblin clamped his mouth shut.
"Fine, Mr. Flix," Snape sighed, pulling a small vial of purple potion from his pocket. "Silent treatment, is it? Then allow me to ask,
"Would you prefer to drown, fall to your death, or", he shook the potion lightly, "be poisoned? Oh, and I have a half-giant friend who loves baking goblins into pies. Interested?"
"Let me go!" the goblin struggled, finally breaking his silence. "This is beneath the dignity of my kind!"
"It's too early in the day for dreams, Mr. Flix," Snape said pleasantly. "Every wizard knows your kind can perform wandless magic."
"Never mind, I'll do it myself." He raised his wand. "I was only trying to spare your mind. Legil-"
"Wait, sir!" the goblin shrieked. "The silver's in the cabinet in the cellar!"
"Good, good. Thank you, Mr. Flix, see? That wasn't so hard." Snape lowered his wand. "Where's the cellar?"
Unwillingly, Flix jerked his chin toward a filthy carpet.
Lifting it, Snape tapped the floor beneath and said, "Aparecium!"
A trapdoor marked with Ragnok symbols appeared.
He pulled it open; dust billowed as a staircase descended into darkness.
Snape transfigured a chair into a torch, lit it, and made the goblin float ahead of him.
"You're coming with me," he said, ignoring the goblin's protests.
The cellar was even more cluttered than above, filled with odd objects. The air smelled of mold and oxidized metal.
"The silver's there," Flix said, pointing to a cabinet in the corner. "Open it and you'll see."
Snape's eyes narrowed. Above the cabinet hung a horn, he recognized the ridged base from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. It was an Erumpent horn, touch it carelessly and it would explode.
"It's in there. Take it," Flix said urgently. "Just let me go."
"In that case, I'll have you fetch it for me," Snape said smoothly. "With a little help from Imperio, I'm sure we'll cooperate beautifully."
"No!" Flix struggled in terror. "I'm sorry, sir! You need to lift the curse on the horn first, with Finite Incantatem, then cut the Acromantula silk linking the horn to the cabinet."
"Excellent." Snape moved the goblin closer to the cabinet and took position across the room, wand aimed carefully at the horn.
"Careful, sir," Flix muttered nervously. "Don't miss."
The spell struck true. An orange ripple shimmered across the horn, turned blue, and then vanished.
Snape then sliced through the nearly invisible spider silk.
"Phew..." Flix exhaled in relief. "Take it. If you'd pay me, that'd be even better."
"Patience, Mr. Flix." Snape smiled faintly. "But first, Imperio!"
Terror flashed across the goblin's face before it softened into blissful calm.
A strange tingling warmth spread through Snape's arm, as though his mind, muscles, and wand were all connected by a current.
He pointed the wand again, releasing the ropes. Under his command, the enchanted goblin obediently walked to the cabinet and opened it.
Inside, among a few piles of Galleons and small bottles, lay a long, thin, silver gleaming dagger. Flix lifted it reverently and handed it to Snape.
The dagger felt icy to the touch but quickly warmed, as if adapting to its new master's hand.
Snape tested a few swings, slightly disappointed. Would this even pierce a Basilisk's hide? Still, better to have one than not.
He slipped the dagger into the inner pocket of his robe and smiled brightly. "Sweet dreams, Mr. Flix, and thank you for the gift."
"Obliviate."
The goblin's eyes went blank and dull. Then his body slumped over, fast asleep.
Snape counted out five hundred Galleons and scattered them around the unconscious goblin.
I really am a good person, he thought. I just wonder if Flix will still give Borgin his commission.