According to the faded street sign barely visible through the gloom of Knockturn Alley, Morris finally managed to locate his destination—Number 21.
It was a chaotic three-story old building.
Please forgive him for using the word "chaotic" to describe it, because after staring at the structure for a full minute, he genuinely couldn't find a more fitting or accurate descriptor.
The house looked like a toy randomly assembled by a drunk giant using various scraps salvaged from a dozen different buildings, then left to be battered by decades of wind, rain, and general neglect.
The wooden sign at the entrance, however, was quite exquisite, surprisingly so given the dilapidated state of everything else. It appeared to be carved from quality oak and was even painted with a layer of glossy varnish that made it stand out like a gentleman's calling card nailed to a garbage heap.
"Frick's Bones and General Store."
The name of the shop was carved into the wood.
This seemed to be the right place. Morris took a breath, adjusted his grip on the Skeleton Dog, and pushed the door open without hesitation.
"Ding-a-ling!"
A clear, unexpectedly cheerful chime rang out from somewhere above his head.
Morris looked up instinctively to see a small brass bell hanging on the inside of the door frame. The clapper, however, was far from ordinary—it was fashioned from what appeared to be a small finger bone. The bone swayed gently back and forth, producing that oddly pleasant sound.
Morris stepped fully inside, letting the door swing shut behind him with a soft thud, and looked at his surroundings.
The shop's layout was surprisingly similar to an ordinary Muggle general store, though the merchandise was anything but ordinary.
The space wasn't particularly large with sturdy wooden shelves lining the walls from floor to ceiling.
The shelves were packed with variety of items: various skeletons of different sizes and species, boxes labeled with names Morris didn't recognize, and various other sundries.
In the far corner stood a massive beast skeleton that immediately drew Morris's attention.
It was enormous with a skull that featured prominent horns or tusks curving up. The bones still bore dark stains of dried blood and patches of desiccated flesh clinging to the joints.
This matched Morris's imagination of such a place almost exactly.
Surprisingly, however, the air inside the shop was quite fresh and pleasant. There was no expected smell of blood, rot, or decay.
Instead, a faint, almost sweet fragrance permeated the air, like that of incense or perhaps some kind of magical air freshening charm.
The floor beneath his feet was wooden, old and scratched but swept clean. A simple counter stood near the back of the shop. Behind it, Morris could see more shelves containing what appeared to be record books and inventory ledgers.
"Anyone here?" Morris called out tentatively, his voice echoed slightly in the space. He waited, listening carefully for any response.
But no one responded there was only silence.
So, he began wandering around the shop on his own, taking the opportunity to observe the items on the shelves more closely, especially the various bones on display.
The specimens were organized by species in some sections and by component in others.
Looking at these intricate structures that had once supported life and movement, Morris found himself fascinated.
The Skeleton Dog followed closely at his heels. It seemed to share Morris's curiosity; its blue flame eyes were flickering as it examined these kindred specimens.
Morris walked slowly toward the very back of the shop, examining items as he went. Then he suddenly stopped before an inconspicuous wooden door into the back wall.
The door was plain, unpainted, and partly open. But more importantly, from behind the door came faint sounds of conversation. A man's voice and a woman's voice, speaking in tones too low for Morris to make out specific words at first.
He leaned slightly closer.
"How's the technique?"
"Just right...Oh, lighter, that spot is very sensitive... a bit to the left, yes... ah, gentler..."
Morris now desperately wanted to leave immediately, walk back outside, and check the sign again to confirm this was actually the correct place.
Had he mistakenly entered some kind of... store that catered to adult services? Some place he definitely shouldn't be visiting at his age?
Half a minute later, just as Morris had turned to leave.
"All done, Lady Caroline," the male voice spoke again.
"Thank you, Mr. Frick," the female voice responded, sounding satisfied and relaxed.
"Your massage technique is as superb as ever. Here's a tip for your excellent service."
Morris froze mid-step, his face was now burning with embarrassment at his own assumptions. Of course, It was a massage.
Then he heard footsteps from inside the room, approaching the door.
Morris quickly turned around, forcing his expression into blankness and pretending to focus intently on a row of small bat skeletons displayed on a nearby shelf.
"Creak."
The wooden door opened with a squeal of hinges.
Morris feigned being startled by the sudden sound and turned around naturally.
However, the sight before him gave him quite a shock that had nothing to do with his earlier embarrassment.
What emerged from the door wasn't a woman of any age he'd imaginede.
It was a skeleton.
Yes, a living if that word could even apply, skeleton.
The skeleton was tall and slender, standing perhaps five and a half feet in height, with bones that exhibited a beautiful ivory-white color and a delicate luster.
The skeleton donned a robe and left the shop directly.
Afterward, a middle-aged man of about thirty or possibly thirty-five emerged from the back room. He was gaunt almost to the point of unhealthy thinness, with dark red hair that fell to his shoulders in slightly tangled waves.
He wore no glasses despite the dim lighting. His eye sockets were deep-set, giving his face a somewhat skull-like appearance even with flesh still attached. Several iron rings were embedded in his face.
This must be Ezra Frick, proprietor of this peculiar store.
Morris made a decision and removed his mask, lowering it to hang around his neck, and spoke first. "Hello, Mr. Frick."
Frick's eyes, which had been somewhat unfocused as he emerged from the back room, suddenly sharpened as they fell on Morris.
"Do I know you?" he asked slowly. His eyes narrowed as he observed Morris more carefully.
Morris explained calmly, "In the summer, several months ago, I bought a Crup dog skeleton from you through owl mail."
Upon hearing this specific detail, Frick's expression immediately showed a look of recognition and realization.
"Ah, yes! A customer!" He brightened. "Let me think... the name was..." He tapped his temple with one finger, clearly searching his memory. "Mr. Black? if I recall correctly?"
He extended a hand toward Morris and smiled with amiability. "Nice to meet you in person, Mr. Black."
"I'm glad you remember me, Mr. Frick," Morris replied, reaching out to shake the offered hand.
It seemed the shop owner had a reasonably good attitude and could accurately remember customers' names and transactions even from months ago.
This was a man who understood the value of customer relationships and took his business seriously, despite the unconventional nature of his merchandise.
Frick released Morris's hand and stepped back slightly, his eyes moving over Morris's face with an expression that was becoming increasingly strange.
"Before we begin our formal conversation and discuss whatever business brings you here today," Frick said slowly,
"Could you please return to your original appearance? I don't mean to be rude, but although it doesn't really matter for business purposes, you make me feel like I'm talking to a small child..."
He gestured vaguely at Morris's body. "This is too bizarre!"
Hearing this unexpected request, Morris felt somewhat helpless and resigned. He suppressed a sigh.
Clearly, the other party still maintained a preconception, assuming that Morris was an adult wizard using Polyjuice Potion or some other transformation magic to appear as a child.
Morris could only patiently explain, "This is my genuine, original appearance, Mr. Frick. No Polyjuice Potion, no Transfiguration, no disguise of any kind."
Frick's expression clearly conveyed his thoughts: 'I don't believe you. Not even slightly.'
His eyes narrowed with skepticism, his head tilting slightly as if viewing Morris from a different angle might reveal the deception.
A literal child of Ten - Twelve-year-old buying skeleton specimens? That child traveling alone to Knockturn Alley?
It was preposterous.
Seeing that further argument about his age and appearance would be futile and would only waste time, Morris decided to simply move forward with his actual purpose for being here.
He could only shrug with resignation and speak seriously.
"Let's get to the actual business at hand, Mr. Frick."
"As I just mentioned, I previously bought a Crup dog skeleton from you through mail order."
Morris paused, then continued with a tone of complaint, "I paid thirty Galleons for that specimen yet when the skeleton arrived, I discovered it was missing a toe!"
"This has caused me serious trouble in my work," he added.
A trace of bewilderment flashed across Frick's face, his eyebrows were drawing together in confusion.
Missing a toe? Serious trouble? And what was with the earlier insistence about not using Polyjuice Potion?
The pieces suddenly clicked together in his mind, and his expression hardened. He suddenly understood what was happening here.
This person, child or adult or whatever he actually was deliberately looking for trouble! This was an attempted shakedown, a scam to extract money or goods through manufactured complaints about a transaction completed months ago.
It was a classic technique: purchase something, claim it was defective, demand compensation. Frick had seen it before from less scrupulous customers.
Well then, if that's how this was going to proceed, he wouldn't be polite or accommodating. His demeanor shifted, becoming defensive and cold.
Just as he was about to turn hostile, about to inform this "Mr. Black" that all sales were final and he could take his complaints elsewhere, Morris bent down smoothly and picked up the Skeleton Dog he'd been carrying.
He lifted it to chest height and turned it to display its right front paw clearly to Frick.
"Look carefully, Mr. Frick," Morris said calmly, pointing to the specific location. "Isn't it missing a toe?"
Frick's retort died in his throat. He narrowed his eyes skeptically but leaned forward a step to examine the skeleton more closely.
Indeed, upon close inspection, the second toe position on the skeleton dog's right front paw was empty.
However...
"I don't remember the Crup dog skeleton I sold you being able to move!" Frick said suspiciously.
Morris spoke calmly, "It's now an undead creature under my control. I performed the necessary rituals and bindings to animate it. It's entirely reasonable and expected that it can move now."
Frick stepped back, looking Morris up and down, his eyes full of doubt.
"Fine," he finally sighed, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning back against the wall in a posture of defensive skepticism.
"Let's temporarily accept this premise that you're telling the truth. So, Mr. Black," he emphasized the name slightly, still clearly doubting Morris's age, "what exactly do you want me to do about this alleged defect? What is the purpose of your grand visit to my humble establishment today?"
Morris answered almost without hesitation. He spoke clearly, "I want you to help me find and properly replace that missing toe bone with an appropriate match, or alternatively, refund me the full thirty Galleons I paid for a defective specimen."
Of course, internally, Morris hoped Frick would choose the latter option. After all, he needed money urgently for various purposes.
As for the skeleton dog's missing toe... well, that wasn't actually important at all. The creature functioned perfectly well with only four toes.
"Ding-a-ling!"
At that precise moment, the bell at the shop's entrance rang again with its cheerful chime.
Both Morris and Frick turned simultaneously to look toward the door.
They found that the skeleton customer who had left just minutes earlier had returned. Lady Caroline stood just inside the doorway.
"Mr. Frick," Lady Caroline's jawbone opened and closed with faint clicking sounds as she spoke. "I apologize for the interruption, but I forgot something important... Could you get me another bottle of Skele-Gro? I've just remembered I'm running quite low, and with the upcoming holidays, I'd prefer to stock up now."
"Of course, madam. Right away," Frick immediately responded, his demeanor instantly shifted to that of an attentive shopkeeper.
He turned smoothly and walked to a shelf near the entrance. His fingers quickly retrieved a slender crystal bottle from the second tier of the shelf.
"Here you are, Lady Caroline," he said with a slightly obsequious tone. "Same old price as always, with the twenty percent loyal customer discount applied."
Lady Caroline elegantly received the bottle with her fingers and examined it briefly before expressing satisfaction. She reached into her small handbag and withdrew a small leather pouch, placing it on a nearby low cabinet with a soft clink of coins.
"Fifteen Galleons total,"
Then her skull suddenly turned toward Morris and the Skeleton Dog still in his arms.
"Oh!" she exclaimed with surprise. "A living skeleton dog! How utterly charming! When did you start selling such things, Frick?"
She moved closer to Morris and continued
"It looks so exquisite…... how much are you asking for it?"