The figure in the concealing black robes walked straight to the counter.
As the figure approached, Morris suddenly caught a whiff of a familiar, faint scent carried on the air currents disturbed by their movement. His nose wrinkled at the odor.
He frowned beneath his bone mask, his mind immediately working to identify the smell.
This particular scent... he seemed to have encountered it somewhere before, and not very long ago at that. Recently, in fact. Within the last few months. But where exactly?
The smell was distinctive enough to trigger recognition but not quite clear enough for immediate identification. Something pungent, organic, slightly unpleasant...
What was it exactly?
Before Morris could fully trace the memory to its source, the black-robed figure had already reached the counter and spoken, their voice was deliberately roughened and made hoarse clearly trying to disguise their natural tone and prevent identification.
"I need a bucket of standard-measure processed Nix Banded Snake venom," the figure stated flatly, getting directly to business. "Do you have it in stock?"
Frick paused in his movements.
"I apologize, sir, but we don't carry that particular product here," he said with regret.
"However, if you need the bones of a Nix Banded Snake instead, I can provide those. I have a fairly complete specimen, though it's missing approximately half of the skull. But trust me when I say the quality of the remaining bones is absolutely top-notch."
"Bones?"
The black-robed figure repeated the single word slowly, as if considering this alternative option for a brief moment.
Then he shook his head. "No. I don't need those."
With that curt dismissal, he turned sharply and left the shop immediately, without the slightest hesitation or backward glance.
Morris had stepped aside to clear the narrow passage between shelves and counter. As the black-robed figure moved past him, that familiar scent became even more obvious.
Ah, of course.
Recognition finally clicked into place.
Garlic.
Strong, and pungent garlic.
Morris had smelled this similar odor during his time at Hogwarts over the past several months.
He had a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor named Quirinus Quirrell who carried precisely this smell with him everywhere he went.
That professor's teaching abilities were utterly unremarkable. The man stuttered constantly, seemed continuously nervous and jumpy, and struggled to maintain classroom discipline even among first-years. His lectures were disorganized and frequently interrupted by his own apparent anxiety.
The back of Quirrell's head was always wrapped in a thick, bulky purple scarf even indoors in warm rooms which had become something of a joke among students. And his entire body continuously carried this lingering, somewhat strange and off-putting garlic smell that made sitting near him in class an unpleasant experience.
His official explanation for the garlic, delivered to any student who asked (and many did, out of sheer curiosity about the overwhelming odor), was that it served as protection.
Supposedly, the pungent herb was meant to ward off vampires he claimed to have encountered during his travels in Romania before taking up his teaching position at Hogwarts.
Now that Morris thought about it more carefully, this black-robed figure's height and general build were remarkably similar to Professor Quirrell's physical characteristics.
More revealingly, the figure's gait was identical to Quirrell's nervous, slightly hurried stride.
Based on these multiple points of evidence, Morris tentatively concluded with reasonable confidence that this mysterious customer had been Professor Quirrell himself.
Interesting. Very interesting indeed.
What would a Hogwarts professor, particularly one teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, need with Nix Banded Snake venom?
Morris felt his curiosity stirring strongly.
If someone especially someone with Quirrell's resources and connections came all the way to the questionable shops of Knockturn Alley specifically to purchase such an unusual ingredient, it most likely wasn't for anything entirely legal or proper.
"Nix Banded Snake venom isn't cheap at all," Frick commented from behind the counter, seeming a bit regretful about the lost sale.
"Unfortunately, my entire stock sold out nearly two years ago to a customer who bought everything I had at once. It's something of a hot commodity in certain circles. I keep meaning to restock, but reliable sources are difficult to find."
"What is this particular venom generally used for?" Morris asked casually.
Frick pulled out a notebook from beneath the counter and began writing notes and sketching crude diagrams while he explained.
"That stuff is frighteningly toxic. However, after special processing, it can be transformed into a very precious medicinal ingredient. I've heard that properly processed Nix Banded Snake venom can be used in extremely advanced healing draughts.
Some claim it can even extend a wizard's lifespan Whether that's actually true or merely wishful thinking and marketing exaggeration, I couldn't say for certain. But the ingredient gets prices high enough that someone clearly believes it works."
Morris nodded thoughtfully, absorbing this information.
The lifespan extension angle was particularly interesting.
Although wizards generally lived considerably longer lives than Muggles who would possibly complain about the prospect of living even longer?
Immortality might be impossible or undesirable, but adding extra healthy years to one's life was generally appealing.
Around three minutes after Quirrell's hasty departure, the brass bell above the shop entrance chimed again with its ring.
Another customer, apparently.
Business was unexpectedly brisk today.
This time, the person who entered was a wizard wearing a silver mask that covered the upper half of his face, leaving only his mouth and jaw visible.
The newcomer wasn't particularly tall but he was notably thin, almost gaunt in his build. He wore dark, high-quality robes that swirled slightly as he walked straight to the counter with familiarity.
Without greeting, he raised one pale hand to remove the silver mask, pulling it away from his face and tucking it into his robes.
Morris glanced over reflexively at the sound of movement, casual curiosity drew his attention—
And felt an immediate jolt of genuine surprise that made his heart skip a beat.
It was Professor Severus Snape, his stern Potions professor from Hogwarts.
Morris's mind turned slightly.
Knockturn Alley was certainly proving unexpectedly lively today!
Were the Hogwarts professors holding some kind of informal gathering here? A faculty meeting in the shadows?
First Quirrell, now Snape. What were the odds of encountering two different professors from school in the same questionable location within minutes of each other?
Frick seemed quite enthusiastic about Snape's arrival, his entire demeanor brightened.
"What favorable wind has blown you here today, Severus?" Frick asked warmly, wiping his hands on a cloth and coming around from behind the counter in a gesture of welcome.
His voice was notably more cheerful and friendly. "What ingredients do you need for your brewing today? I've recently acquired some exceptional Nundu fangs—beautifully preserved specimens, still quite sharp. Would you like to take a look at those?"
Snape said nothing immediately in response to this enthusiastic greeting, instead taking a moment to survey his surroundings with those cold, dark, eyes.
His gaze swept across the shop's interior, and inevitably lingered on Morris standing off to the side still wearing his pale bone mask.
The silence stretched uncomfortably. Those black eyes remained fixed on Morris for several seconds, assessing, analyzing, possibly recognizing despite the disguise.
Frick immediately understood the implicit request for privacy. He turned smoothly to Morris and spoke.
"Would you mind stepping out for a moment, Mr. Black?" he requested politely. "I apologize for the inconvenience, but Professor Snape and I have some private business matters to discuss. You're welcome to wait in the back room, the break area behind that door over there."
Morris nodded in acknowledgment. He turned toward the door at the back of the shop.
However, before he could take more than two steps—
"Wait!"
Snape's icy voice rang out sharply through the shop.
Morris froze in place.
Snape's gaze seemed to pierce directly through Morris's bone mask and bore into the back of his skull like a physical pressure.
"Your surname is Black?"
The question was delivered flatly, without emotion, but carried immense weight.
Morris felt somewhat helpless at being caught so easily, though he supposed it had been inevitable.
The surname Black was far too memorable. And Morris hadn't disguised his general build, height, or posture either.
Snape must have already guessed his identity with near certainty based on multiple identifying factors.
Still, being recognized didn't really matter that much. Snape wasn't the type to gossip with other faculty or report students for minor things during holidays. And Morris wasn't doing anything technically illegal, just visiting a shop in a questionable neighborhood.
Morris turned around slowly to face his professor properly, maintaining his composure. The pale bone mask on his face slowly dissolved away as he dismissed the spell.
"Professor Snape," Morris greeted him with perfect politeness and appropriate formality, inclining his head slightly in respect. "I truly didn't expect to encounter you outside the school. What an unexpected coincidence."
Seeing this exchange and the recognition, Frick paused in his movements and looked between them with confusion. His eyes moved from Morris's now-revealed face to Snape's severe expression and back again.
"You two know each other?" he asked with surprise. "I didn't realize— I mean, Severus, is this boy really...?"
Morris shrugged casually, his tone light and slightly amused as he interrupted before Frick could finish that thought.
"What are you talking about, Mr. Frick? At my age and given my robes and general appearance, it's rather obvious that I'm a Hogwarts student, isn't it?" He gestured to himself.
Frick had a moment of realization.
Of course. That Severus Snape was Hogwarts' Potions professor wasn't any kind of secret, it was common knowledge.
It was perfectly normal for a Hogwarts student to recognize their own professor.
Frick relaxed slightly.
Snape continued observing Morris with that expressionless, unreadable face that had intimidated countless students over the years. His voice, when he finally spoke again, was slow.
"Well then, Mr. Black," he began, his tone carrying layers of meaning and unspoken questions, "during the Christmas holiday when you should be either at school or at your home, why exactly are you here in Knockturn Alley? This is hardly an appropriate location for a first-year student to spend his vacation time."
Morris met Snape's gaze steadily.
"Working a part-time job to earn money, Professor," He explained looking very innocent, as if this were the most natural and obvious thing in the world.
"A student like me, without parents or family financial support, has to find ways to earn some Galleons for myself."
He spread his hands in a gesture of necessity.
Snape gave a cold snort of air.
Working in Knockturn Alley? How very appropriate.
Frick remained silent off to the side, merely observing.
He had a feeling the atmosphere was getting somewhat uncomfortable and potentially confrontational.
Though that made perfect sense—a professor discovering his student frequenting such an unsavory location during what should be vacation time would naturally react with disapproval and concern.
"I don't particularly want to meddle unnecessarily in your personal affairs, Mr. Black," Snape finally said. "However, since you have chosen to work in here, you'd better stay inside this shop. The streets of Knockturn Alley are no garden for a student to stroll through."
After delivering this stern warning, Snape glanced sharply at Frick with an expression that clearly questioned why the man would allow a child to work in such a dangerous environment in the first place.
But Frick only whistled a cheerful tune and began humming softly to himself, offering absolutely no explanation.
"I understand, Professor Snape. Thank you for the reminder," Morris replied with perfect obedience and appropriate gratitude. "I'll be very careful and won't take risks."
With that polite acknowledgment, he gave a small bow and began walking toward the break room. "I'll leave you two to conduct your business now."
A few minutes later, Frick pushed open the break room door and entered, closing it behind him with a soft click.
Morris was sitting in one of the chairs.
He immediately asked with curiosity, "Are you quite familiar with Professor Snape, Mr. Frick?"
Frick walked over to a small side table where a kettle sat steaming, recently boiled. He carefully pushed a cup of hot tea that he'd apparently prepared earlier toward Morris, then picked up another cup for himself.
He blew on the tea gently to cool it, took a cautious sip, then settled into a chair across from Morris.
"Severus? Oh, certainly—we're quite well acquainted," he confirmed readily, his tone was casual. "On this street, you'd be hard-pressed to find a legitimate businessman who hasn't dealt with him at some point."
He took another sip of tea.
"Nearly everyone has purchased his potions at one time or another—he's an absolutely brilliant potion-maker, you know. His work is exceptional, far superior to most of the charlatans selling dubious brews around here. And he's a regular customer at my shop, coming by frequently to buy potion ingredients."
Frick smiled slightly.
"I imagine, as a Hogwarts student taking his classes, you should already know of his capabilities and reputation in the field."
Morris nodded in confirmation.
It seemed Snape was quite a celebrity in Knockturn Alley's business community.
"Speaking of which," Morris asked with curiosity, "is it really alright for a Hogwarts professor to be this active and visible in Knockturn Alley?"
Frick chuckled darkly at the question, as if it revealed amusing naivety.
"Severus is no pushover or helpless academic," he said seriously. "Don't let his teaching position fool you into thinking he's just another mild-mannered professor. He's quite resourceful, very capable in ways that have nothing to do with potion-brewing, and most importantly he has powerful people protecting him from above."
Frick paused, then looked up at Morris with an expression that had become somewhat subtle and assessing.
"However, what exactly is your real relationship with him? Is it truly just a simple professor and student connection, or is there something more to it?"
His tone made it clear he suspected there might be some more to their relationship.
"Before he left just now to continue his shopping elsewhere," Frick added, "he specifically took me aside and told me to look after you properly while you're working here."
Morris smiled slightly at this.
"My Potions grades are quite good," he said simply, as if this explained everything.
There was no helping it—good students always received special attention from their professors.
Though, Morris had to admit he felt somewhat surprised by Snape's protective instructions to Frick.
He had initially thought that even if Snape discovered his identity and presence in Knockturn Alley, the professor would simply ignore the situation to avoid any obligation or involvement.
But by the looks of it, the sour looking Potions professor actually cared about him quite a bit more than Morris had realized.
Perhaps Professor Snape wasn't quite as cold and uncaring as he appeared to be.