A Turn for the Better

Chapter 28 ~ Off to Knockturn Alley

Hermione spent a quiet Christmas at home with her parents. They bought her a few books, sweaters and decorative hair ornaments, and she brought her mum a new tea set and her dad a new billiard cue.

She spent a lot of time studying, sleeping (so as to catch up on more details of the old timeline) and daydreaming about Professor Snape. She actually missed working with him in the lab in the evenings, and had suggested in a roundabout way that she should stay and help him over the holidays, but Snape told her that would be unsuitable because there was no one at the castle to supervise her.

"You could supervise me, Professor," she replied.

Snape looked at her a long moment.

"It would be highly inappropriate, Miss Granger. We will discuss it no further," he said firmly.

So they didn't. She went home like she was supposed to do, and he remained at the castle working alone, and accomplishing much more than he did when she was present. But, he missed her presence as well. He'd become accustomed to her frowning over her work and cursing under her breath when she made errors, her hair tied back and her expression one of intense concentration.

He'd also become rather used to the pleased look in her eyes when she got through some task without his correction. These times were few and far between, but he always felt a bit elated at her joy at her accomplishment as well as his approval.

She would make a fine Potions mistress.

The day before he was to meet her outside of Hogwarts, Snape had to make a trip to the Potions masters lodge, someplace he hadn't been for decades. It was a dour looking mansion hidden in the mountains of Scotland, always surrounded by mist. It was a mysterious, foreboding place . . . the way the masters liked it.

Low torchlight cast eerie shadows on the stone walls, and the air felt close as he entered the domicile. A hooded, rather round wizard met him at the door. All Snape could see of him was a pair of gray eyes glittering at him from within the depths of the cowl.

"State your name and the purpose of your visit," the wizard growled at him.

"Master Severus Snape. I am here to reserve my spot at the Presentation of Apprentices," Snape replied.

This answer was met with several seconds of silence before the wizard said, "Follow me."

Snape was led down a long hallway, portraits of past masters watching him as he passed, and murmuring to each other as he passed.

"That is the one who turned the others on their ears," one bearded wizard said to another in the portrait beside him. "It's been many years, but I remember the uproar. He had quite the nerve showing up here as he did."

"Yes. He was quite the sensation," the other said in a deep bass voice. "Now he's back. I believe his presence will once again be . . . interesting."

Snape and his guide turned into a small room. Nothing was in it except for a stone desk, a large open tome, a large feathered quill and the sputtering torches on the wall. The wizard walked behind the desk and turned the book to face Snape.

"Enter your name. You will be bound to keep this gathering a secret from all those who are not part and partial to our noble calling. The price for treachery is swift and permanent. Your signature serves as your Oath of Silence, and it is a powerful one. Do not add your name lightly, Severus Snape," he intoned.

Snape rolled his eyes at all the dramatics, dipped the quill into the ink bottle and wrote his name out in crimson on the log. He felt magic swirl around him, dark and threatening.

The wizard turned the book back and initialed it next to Snape's name. A.V.

"It is done. You must appear with your apprentice on the required date," the wizard said.

"I'll be here," Snape replied, turning with a swirl of robes and departing, not waiting for his guide to show him out. The wizard lowered his cowl and looked down at the signature thoughtfully.

"Severus Tobias Snape," master Antoine Vargas breathed, stroking his chin, his gray eyes narrowed. "Finally, he's bowed to our traditions and plans to take on an apprentice. I wonder what fine, strapping young boy has finally caught that wizard's eye. Well, we shall see. Knowing Snape, he will be quite the find."

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Hermione arrived at the gates of Hogwarts half an hour early. She was dressed in a sweater, jeans, heavy socks and a heavy traveling cloak against the cold. A scarlet and gold hat was pulled down over her head, covering her ears. She was restless as she peered through the gates, waiting for the professor to appear.

Presently, she saw him, striding across the grounds dressed in all black as usual, but with a Slytherin green scarf wrapped around his throat and black leather gloves. She watched almost breathlessly as he approached the gate and unwarded it, letting himself through and warding it back. He looked her over.

"You're going to be quite warm in Cedric's shop. It's climate controlled," he said by way of greeting.

"I'm sure I'll be fine," Hermione said curtly, a bit miffed he didn't at least greet her after not seeing her for several days.

Snape was just getting her ready for apprenticeship. Politeness wasn't really on the agenda. He'd be marginally polite when he spoke to her, because Hermione actually was on his agenda, but normally he would mostly give her orders. She needed to get used to his off-the-cuff comments.

Snape offered her his arm.

"Let's go," he said, wiggling it a little.

Hermione gingerly took Snape's arm. It was rather slender and hard under his cloak. It felt strong. She felt the pressure of Apparition close around her, tight, cloying, squeezing her between space, but she felt Snape too, right with her. Then the pressure released and she could draw breath. The sound of thunder followed.

Hermione looked around, and didn't let Snape's arm go, but actually clutched it tighter.

They were in a dark, twisting, cobblestoned alleyway. The only colors seemed to be black, white and shades of grey. Even the scant torch lights seemed to burn without luster, the flames spluttering as if in protest at being in such an unsavory location.

Street vendors with questionable items for sale stood against the walls, hawking their wares. Wizards and witches moved through the shadows, acting suspiciously, some hooded, others with scarves wrapped around their faces. No one seemed anxious to be seen in full light.

Shrunken heads swung from one cart, their eyes shifting about in their shriveled faces, the spirit still trapped inside. Another vendor had a basket full of human-looking fingernails. The place reeked of Dark Magic. Hermione shifted closer to Snape as they began to make their way down the alley. Black spiders scuttled about in a shop window, forelegs scraping against the glass as if they were probing for freedom.

Hermione didn't say anything, but felt eyes on her and was glad she was with the wizard. The eyes felt like predator eyes, and she had the distinct feeling of being stalked by something dangerous. They walked past Borgins and Burkes, a fairly popular establishment that sold objects of unusual and powerful properties. Hermione stumbled back as a haggard looking witch suddenly appeared from nowhere and waved a deck of blood-stained cards under her nose.

"Guaranteed to win every time," she cackled, "you just have to get away with your winnings, dearie."

Snape said nothing, but just kept going, Hermione's arm securely in his own.

Hermione looked back at the toothless hag, as Severus led her along. Suddenly her cloak was snagged and Hermione looked down. The Potion master stopped, his eyes narrowed.

An apparently legless man had grabbed Hermione's cloak.

"A knut for a wizard down on his luck, Miss?" he rasped at her, holding out a dirty curled hand. "Just a sickle or two for the ill and infirm? I'm starvin', I am."

Hermione's heart went out to the man and she began to reach into her pocket to pull out her purse, when Snape yanked her away and kicked the man over, showing his folded-under limbs.

"You'll be down on something else if you don't get away from us," Snape hissed at him.

The man scrambled away. Snape looked at Hermione.

"Never . . . ever take out your purse in Knockturn Alley," he said, "you'll never leave with it. And give no one anything. They are all con men and thieves. Once they see you give, they have no qualms about taking. Stay close."

Hermione did that as the Potions master led her through the twisting alley. All kinds of scents were in the air and every niche and dark place seemed to have at least one pair of glittering, shifting eyes staring out of it.

She'd never come here alone. Ever.

She crushed into Snape as two wizards began fighting, one pulling out his wand and blasting the other into a wall, his opponent sliding down it as the man quickly rifled through the fallen wizard's robes. Then a crowd converged on him. After thirty seconds, they dispersed, leaving him only in his dingy underwear.

"This is horrible," Hermione breathed.

"This is Knockturn Alley," Snape replied, turning into a worn-looking shop. A horrible scream sounded as they entered. It sounded as if someone was being murdered and Hermione jumped.

"It does get the attention, doesn't it?" a voice purred.

It wasn't a good purr. It was the kind of purr that made the hair stand up on the back of your neck.

Hermione found herself face to face with a short man that looked as if he'd never been out in the sun in his life. He had watery blue eyes rimmed in red, his hair was short, black, oily, cut bad and parted in the middle, and his face was pockmarked by old acne scars. His lips were very full and moist and as he smiled, she saw he had tiny, gapped green teeth. She realized he was actually taller than she was, it was just that he was hunched slightly. He rubbed the knuckles of his right hand sensuously as he looked at her.

"Welcome to Cedric's Shop of Tantalizing Tomes," he simpered. He held out his hand. His palm was covered in fine, black hair.

"May I take your cloak?" he asked her, grinning.

Hermione looked at the fur-covered hand and shook her head.

"No, that's . . . that's all right," she said in a tiny voice.

Snape couldn't help smirking at her response to Cedric. He was definitely one of the creepier wizards around. But he could find books.

"Hello Cedric. We've come to redeem that over-priced coupon you foisted off on me," Snape said to him, frowning slightly.

Cedric shuffled back, grinning horribly.

"Well, well. Come in, then . . . come in," he said softly.

Hermione shuddered. There was something about the tone of the wizard's voice that made her feel cold inside.

Snape guided her past the creepy Cedric and into the book shop proper. It was wall to wall books, tables and shelves full of mostly brown and black leather tomes. The scent of leather and parchment filled the place. A black privacy curtain was strung up in the latter part of the store. The tables were so close, one could barely navigate them. Little signs hung on the ends, identifying the subjects. Cedric had candles in the sconces on the walls, each carefully covered with a glass globe to avoid any sparks igniting his place.

"Browse," Cedric said, Hermione suddenly jumping because he was right next to her, almost breathing in her ear.

"But . . . be gentle. Be very, very gentle," he hissed as if talking to a lover.

It wasn't the least bit sexy.

She looked up at Snape, who had released her.

"Go and browse," the wizard said, echoing Cedric. "I will be searching for my own books."

"All right," Hermione said, hoping Cedric wouldn't be skulking behind her the entire time.

As if he anticipated her thoughts, Snape said, "Cedric, I need you to attend me."

The shopkeeper followed Snape and Hermione let out a sigh of relief.

There was no one else in the shop. Hermione began to walk around, looking at the titles.


"How to Harvest Entrails in Three Easy Steps" by Stephen Slash

"Glorified Gore" by Amanda Cuttings

"Blood, Wet and Smears," by Ooyou Cad

"My gods," Hermione breathed. Snape was right. These titles certainly wouldn't be in Flourish and Blotts.

She eased toward the privacy curtain, wondering what was back there.

Suddenly, Cedric was by her side.

"Ah, that is the choosing room," he breathed at her.

"Choosing room?" Hermione repeated as Cedric rubbed his knuckles.

"Yes. When you go in there, the books choose you. They know what you need the most," he said softly, his watery eyes flicking toward the curtain. "It's for my more . . . indecisive customers."

Hermione looked at the curtain curiously. She wasn't sure what kind of books to get, and didn't want to waste the professor's money, so the room sounded perfect.

"Can I go in?" she asked Cedric.

"Are you past the Age of Consent?" the wizard asked her.

Hermione nodded.

"Go in," he said, pulling back the curtain and bowing slightly.

From the front of the shop, Snape watched Hermione enter the choosing room.

It would be interesting to see what she came out with.

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A/N: Brrrr. Knockturn Alley is creepy. And so is Cedric, but he's always creepy no matter where he pops up. Ooh, a choosing room. That ought to be interesting. Anyway, thanks for reading.