𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

- Vampires & Finger Bones -

Despite being a popular destination in wizarding Britain, few people were wandering Diagon Alley when Fi arrived. Of course, it was rather late for any person to be up and about, let alone a seemingly young witch covered in soot with an Augurey swaying on her shoulder. She wore a long tunic speckled with old stains and a pair of aubergine leggings instead of the typical robes and hat, though she had to admit she liked those jaunty hats with their wide brims and floppy tops. Regardless, however, it was quite late, and as Fi hurried from the communal hearth along the cobbled lane, she earned quite a number of puzzled glances.

A man Fi guessed to be one of those Ministry Aurors called out "Miss!" as she rushed by, but Fi didn't stop and just continued on her way.

From her bag came the muffled complaint of "You're jostling me! You're jostling me!"

"Yes, I hear you," Fi grumbled. "Why does everyone think I'm deaf?!"

Puck screeched.

"Yes, thank you, Puck."

Though she preferred the quiet isolation of her highland cottage, Fi had been to the Alley a number of times in her prolonged life to procure various items she couldn't bribe from her village neighbors or hustle from her friends. Generally, she found the shops overpriced and a bit too ostentatious for her liking, but Fi thought all normal witches and wizards were just a tad too ostentatious, with their Galleons and their wands and petty little blood feuds. Her coven had always taught the value of community, and currency had no value among them. Gold could buy a witch nothing in the wilds, and magic there was less…structured. Older. More instinctual.

Fi found the turn she needed and darted by a sign reading Knockturn Alley.

Compared to the adjoined street, Knockturn Alley was a grungy place and far more populated in the liminal hours of night. Many of the shops remained open despite the time, their display windows stocked with a wide variety of less traditional implements. One stooped wizard spotted the slim witch hurrying along with a monstrous bird on her shoulder and made a move as if to block her path, but Fi only snapped her fingers to shunt him back.

She came to a stop before a shop bearing the name Dystal Phaelanges. Through the window she could see many different sets of bones laid out on display, and though Fi meant to get herself indoors, she couldn't help but spare a few of the more exotic pieces a covetous eye. Any good hedge witch knew her bones well. Bones were what connected the spiritual and earthly realms and resonated with magics far more intrinsic than any simple charm or jinx. Witches and wizards had spent their entire lives just trying to understand what bones already knew.

"I wonder if those are real Peruvian Vipertooth teeth," she pondered, stroking Puck's plumage as she slowed by the window. Fi paused. "Viperteeth? Vipertooths?"

Puck pecked at her fingers.

"Right, right."

She rapped her knuckles upon the door barring entry to the lofts above the bone shop. The peeling paint, dark ambiance, and gutters fit to burst with old autumn leaves did not lend the place a welcoming air, yet Fi waited all the same, still holding her luggage. Ever muttered about "imprudent brats."

The drawn out thump of reluctant feet coming down the stairs preceded the jangle of a door chain and the ominous creak of untended hinges. A man appeared at the threshold.

"Fi?"

"How is my favorite fanged friend this evening?"

Not many people would call Knockturn Alley home, but then Grigor Todorov was not many people. He was a vampire. A generous dab of hair product kept his tidy brown hair out of his pale face and red eyes. He dressed in a waistcoat and loose-sleeved shirt with tight cuffs. A thick Eastern accent rolled off his tongue. He forewent typical wizard attire, but Fi could see the hem of a traveling robe hung just inside the main entrance.