Beyond 84 Charing Cross Road

Hermione told herself she was relieved that she never received a reply to her last letter and had put Sopohorous out of her mind until the expected shipment of potions texts arrived.



Rather than wait for the books to be checked in by Mister Fitzgerald, Hermione volunteered to assist the older man with his work, taking note of each title as it passed through her hands.



Perhaps it was the twinge of disappointment at not finding the anticipated book that urged her to re-examine Sopohorous' file.



January 17, 2000



Simon Sopohorous

London



Mister Sopohorous,



Today's shipment of books included the rare texts I mentioned in my last letter. Unfortunately, the volume I was expecting was not amongst those received.



There was a volume with a nearly identical title, but upon closer inspection I believe it is not the book you are seeking. However, on the chance that I am incorrect in my assumption, I am sending the volume to you for examination. If it is not what you seek, please return it to our store – at our expense. If we have not received the return in five days time, we shall debit your account.



I have also taken the liberty of including another book from today's shipment that appears to deal with similar subject matter. It is my hope that you will find one or both of these titles useful.



Graciously Yours,



Hermione Granger

Marks and Sons



 

Several nights of almost uninterrupted sleep had left Simon in what – for him – would be considered a good mood. He had spent several hours working on some orders from a regular customer. After leaving the confines of his potions lab, closeted in – appropriately enough a closet, magically enlarged – Simon paused in the act of wiping his hands.



There was a parcel on his table.



Glancing up at Yorick, he raised a brow.



"No extra mouse for you this evening. You could have let me know when it was delivered."



Naturally suspicious, Simon didn't relax his guard even when he spied the Marks and Sons logo. He noted his increased heartrate and tried to quell the surge of excitement he felt.



You're an idiot if you think for one moment a copy would be that easily found.



Still, the hand that unbound the books shook slightly as it picked up the larger volume. It was opened and several pages flipped before it was harshly closed. The deep sigh that accompanied the sound of his body slumping into a chair was disappointment personified. The second volume was picked up and discarded without a second glance.



Glancing up at Yorick, Simon tilted his head.



"You get the mouse after all. They weren't worth the effort of bothering me."



Picking up the letter, Simon read it carefully.



"I'm surprised, Yorick. She apparently has learned a few things working in that book shoppe. If I were Dumbledore, I'd give her credit for the effort. But I'm not, now am I?"



The falcon chuffed once and turned his back on Simon.



"I can still change my mind about the mouse, you ungrateful chicken."



Standing up and walking over to his desk, Simon pulled a fresh sheet of parchment and glanced once over at the bird.



He might be right. There is that old saying about catching more flies with honey than vinegar – or was that acid?



Shrugging slightly, Simon began to write with his enchanted quill.





January 17, 2000



Marks and Sons

84 5/6 Charing Cross Road



Ms Granger,



While I do appreciate the effort you obviously put into the search for the two items I received today, neither one will be of any use to me and I am returning both.



The first – as you suspected – is an obvious attempt to capitalize upon the good name of the original author. Unfortunately, only those familiar with the genuine article can tell the difference as they are both quite old texts. I advise you to use the impostor as a door stop. It will be put to much better use that way, and the only dangers involved will be if someone happens to trip over it.



The other 'object' you sent me – and I use that term in place of 'kindling' to spare your book-loving soul some torment – isn't worth the paper it's printed on. The author, Emiline Sneerbody, is clearly a shyster who is trying to turn a fast Galleon or two, as Sacharissa Tugwood, the Potions mistress she supposedly apprenticed under, never had one. Ever.



I look forward to your future efforts to placate this difficult taskmaster.



Cordially,



Simon Sopohorous

 

It came as no surprise to Hermione that both books were waiting on her desk when she came in to work the next morning, along with his note. What did surprise her was the tone of his letter.



The acidic wit she had come to expect from her limited dealings with the man was clearly still intact, but didn't seem to be directed at her for once. In fact, his note was almost—Hermione wouldn't go so far as to call it pleasant, by any means, but it didn't make her grind her teeth as the last one had.



Then there was the line about sparing her book-loving soul. That had left her puzzled, searching her memory for any indication that she might have met Sopohorous before receiving his first letter a month ago. The name didn't ring a single bell.



"Idiot," she muttered. "I work in a book store; it's not that far of a stretch to assume I might like books. He probably recognized my name from some article or another in the Prophet, probably something that Skeeter woman wrote, which might explain why we got off to such a bloody lovely start, if he believed anything that woman had to say about me."



She pushed the niggling bit of doubt out of her mind and reached for both of the books he had returned, resolving to take them home and read them. Surely they weren't as bad as Sopohorous said?



January 20, 2000



Simon Sopohorous

London



Mister Sopohorous,



It may interest you to know that all copies of Miss Emiline Sneerbody's book can now be found shelved with the rest of our fiction.



Yours,



Hermione Granger

 

Yorick didn't like it when strange owls delivered letters to his master. His ruffled feathers had only begun to smooth down when a sound he had never heard before rang through the small flat. He could be forgiven for starting and leaving in a huff.



Simon Sopohorous was actually laughing, if the rusty sounding noise issuing from his mouth could be called one. It had been years since his vocal cords had been used for such a purpose, and they weren't quite sure they could pull it off, but they tried.



Honey, indeed.



I can almost forgive her not yet finding the texts I need.



Almost.





January 20, 2000





Marks and Sons

84 5/6 Charing Cross Road



Ms Granger,



Your wisdom in not arguing the merits of a book being precious just because it is bound upsets a pet theory of mine concerning the future guardians of our accumulated knowledge. There will always be swine attempting to become silk purses, and being able to tell the difference will ensure the legacy stays intact.



Cordially,



Simon

"How odd."



Mister Fitzgerald passed her a cup of tea before settling down into the chair across from her desk with his list of received books that would need to be entered into their inventory system. "What's that, dearie?"



"I think I've just been paid a compliment, but I'm not quite sure." Hermione snorted, her lips tilting upward as she tucked the letter into one of her desk drawers. "All right, Mister Fitzgerald, what do you have for me today?"