DPASW: The Foundation of Power

What Goes On In Knockturn Alley

[October 3rd 1991]

Knockturn Alley.

The very name conjures up images of darkness and shady dealings — of forbidden things hidden away from where common, law-abiding witches and wizards choose to travel.

The shops of Knockturn Alley often didn't advertise their wares. Not because they were necessarily illegal—although they sometimes were—but rather because most people liked to pretend that the wares in question didn't exist.

The sky was dark and cloudy — the crescent moon, barely visible. A light drizzle fell on everything, splattering against cobblestones and pattering off of windows. It fell on the many signs that lined the shops, and on one sign, it ran down a dried and flattened snake skin nailed to the otherwise empty wood.

A robed and cloaked man exited from the snake skin adorned shop front, let out a satisfied breath, and slowly walked off down the wet and dripping alley.

In the upper floors of the shop, in a small and simple room, a slight figure with shoulder length, blonde hair and watery, blue eyes sat on a messy bed, arms wrapped around her knees, knees pressed against her chest, shivering against the cold seeping into her now sweaty body, naked, but for an ominous silver collar around her neck.

Clothes lay strewn over the floor. A torn slip of women's underwear hung on the back of a chair. An empty potions bottle sat on the tiny window desk, next to a small pile of coins.

Suddenly, the girl on the bed started to change. Her hair slowly shifted from blonde to brown, keeping its straightness, but lengthening down to the small of her back. She seemed to gain a few years, maturing from a possible sixteen or seventeen year old to a very definite early twenties. Her form filled out somewhat, from petite to curvy, although her height remained the same. And finally her face changed, becoming softer, rounder, with a button nose, a dainty chin, and two still wet eyes, one staying blue, the other turning hazel.

The girl shivered again and tried to banish the feeling of unwanted hands all over her. Food would be served soon. She should at least get a shower before then.

The girl shuffled to the edge of the bed, stood up shakily, stepped over to the desk, picked up the empty bottle of polyjuice potion, and dropped it into the nearby bin.

She then collected the coins and counted them out. One sickle, eight knuts (£3.80). Not a great tip, but better than a smack around the face, which is what she sometimes got. She moved back to the bed, lifted up the mattress, and added the coins to her secret pile of bronze and silver. No gold of course. She knew galleons existed, but she'd never actually seen them before. Her secret stash was small but growing, and after almost three years, was starting to close in on her target of seven galleons... enough for her very own wand.

She lowered the mattress and looked blankly at the wall.

A knock sounded from the door. She instinctively flinched away and covered her chest.

"Clare?" a voice from the other side of the door called. "Food's ready."

Clare relaxed and lowered her arm. It was just the madam. She called out. "Wait. Can you repair something?" She reached over and snatched the torn pair of knickers from the chair as the door opened.

The madam was a larger, older woman, who'd taken over when the last manager had disappeared in mysterious circumstances. The woman sighed. "Again?"

Clare nodded.

The madam took the ruined knickers, tapped them with her wand, and returned them to her, almost good as new.

"Thank you."