The next day, closer to lunch, Alan was already standing in front of a small shop in Diagon Alley with a rather simple name: "Artifacts for Everyone."
As soon as he entered the building, his gaze was immediately met with cabinets and tables with various things and trinkets from which magic emanated, and behind the counter stood a middle-aged man who looked very much like the former Slytherin head boy.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Snape, I take it?" the wizard greeted him with a friendly smile, waving his wand, and at that very moment the door slammed shut and locked.
"And I'm glad to meet you, and you're John's father, am I right? And where is he anyway?"
"He's waiting for us in the basement," he replied, waving his wand again and opening a hatch in the floor. "I'm very interested in that artifact, and I'm willing to buy everything you have for three hundred Galleons apiece. What do you think?"
Listening to the man's slightly bored tone, he could hardly hold back a smile, because although he tried to deceive him, showing only a slight interest in the "toys," he did it very poorly, so much so that Alan wanted to exclaim: "I don't believe it!" But still he held back, simply shaking his head.
"That's not all. Just one such artifact costs me over three hundred Galleons, not to mention the time I spend on it instead of improving my abilities. 'Time' is precious in these troubled times. And soon my studies will begin, you understand. There won't be any time left. Professor Slughorn is a very serious man, and if he sees me sleep-deprived, he'll start lecturing me. And I'm not even talking about the Head of Gryffindor, who has taken a dislike to me..."
And for the next ten minutes, Alan continued to pull the wool over the shop owner's eyes, complaining about his problems and implicating all the teachers, even the Headmaster, all the while putting on a very "honest" face, even though the artifact was always at least indirectly to blame. Macmillan himself began to twitch after just five minutes, his lips trembled by the eighth, and by the tenth, he lowered his head and raised his hand.
"I get it, that's enough. I give up."
"I'm glad to hear that. I was just running out of ideas on what to talk about next," he nodded with a smile and continued. "Now, I hope we can discuss the price of my artifacts properly?"
Stroking his goatee, the man hissed in displeasure and, turning around, began to descend.
"Follow me."
"Good," Alan said, not afraid that a trap might await him below. He was confident in his own abilities, and he had ten cubes in his pocket under transformation, so he had nothing to fear. Macmillan himself did not seem like that kind of person, and over his nearly fifty years of life, he had learned to understand people quite well. The shopkeeper himself was like an open book to him.
As soon as they reached the small stone room and passed through the barrier surrounding it, Alan immediately saw John himself, the former Slytherin prefect, sitting at a small, round table, waving at him with a smile.
"This is a special room for important negotiations. No one will hear or disturb us here," the man explained calmly, taking a seat at the head of the table. "Sit down and let's get straight to the point. Name your price."
With a calm step, under the intense gaze of Senior Macmillan, Alan approached the table and sat down opposite John.
"I've been researching prices for artifacts like this for a while, and given the current situation in the country, I was considering eight hundred Galleons," he said, glancing at the man's reaction out of the corner of his eye. "But I realize eight hundred is a lot, so I'll lower it to seven hundred. What do you think?"
The younger Macmillan froze in shock at this figure, but the older one only frowned slightly, as if he was not surprised by it.
"It's… expensive… what does this price consist of?"
"From the factors I mentioned earlier," his right eye flickered. "And also one hundred percent protection against the three Unforgivables."
"…What?"
"As for Avada, the Dark Wizards' favorite curse, as you know, it only knocks the soul out of the body, and my artifact doesn't have one," he quickly pulled himself together and nodded, agreeing with Alan's words. "I've already tested Crucio, and the artifact easily blocked it. Imperius is rarely used in combat, but it can easily repel it. And, most interestingly, while this artifact is activated, no Legilimens will be able to invade your mind, of course, not counting wizards like Voldemort and Albus Dumbledore: even the best artifacts won't protect you from them."
"That's understandable, but..."
"It's worth its Galleons. Stop trying to lower the price. I'm sure you've already tested it and realized how powerful it is." It's even a little embarrassing to call this toy a powerful artifact; in my world, I'd definitely be laughed at for that. "Also, don't forget who these artifacts could really use right now..."
Seeing the steadfastness on his face, the man had no choice but to agree to this price, since he himself understood that it was already quite low, and if one recalls the wealth of the Potter family, who are among the supporters of Albus Dumbledore in the fight against the Dark Lord, and the old man himself, some seven hundred Galleons are like a drop in the ocean, and even if he adds another five hundred on top of the seven hundred, they will still gladly buy them in order to increase the chances of victory in this still cold war.
"Okay, I agree. How much can you provide at the moment?"
"Six, as I said earlier, it takes too much time to create one such artifact. I can only make two in a month, at most, and that's if I barely sleep," he answered thoughtfully, leaning against the back of his chair.
"As I expected... and if, say, I want to buy a drawing..."
"One million, and it's yours."
"Just say you're not selling," the man waved his hand wearily, opening a chest in the corner. A moment later, Galleons began pouring out like a fountain, filling the table in seconds without a single one falling to the floor. "There's ten thousand in here."
"Twice as much, why so generous?" Alan asked him, narrowing his gaze, to which the man only smiled contentedly.
"I hope for a long and fruitful collaboration, and that such artifacts will be sold only in my shop."
"I see... Okay, I really need Galleons right now, so I'm ready to accept your offer."
"Glad to hear it. How about we celebrate...?"
"I think I'll refrain. I don't have time to waste on drinking at the moment, but I'll be happy to make amends in the future," he continued, shaking the outstretched hand. Under John's still-shocked gaze, which held nothing but a mountain of gold, he continued. "But I do have one request."
"I'm listening carefully."
"Do you know any Parselmouth people?"
Both Macmillans froze at this question.
"You understand..."
"That nonsense about only Dark Mages speaking the language of snakes? That's nonsense. If Salazar had spoken cat language, would he also be considered the language of Dark Mages, and cats their minions?" He looked at the surprised man with a smile, who burst out laughing a few seconds later.
"Well said. I never considered all the Parselmouths to be the Dark Lord's accomplices, although the fact is that most of them are Dark Wizards. But, forgive me, I don't have any such acquaintances, but..."
"But…?"
"I'll be right back," he said, looking into his face with a "struggle" in his gaze and quickly leaving the room.
Alan looked after him with a puzzled expression and then turned his gaze to John, who immediately lowered his eyes.
"What's wrong with you? You used to be more talkative."
"You used to be my junior, and now you're our business partner, and my father always taught me to treat people like that with respect..."
"I understand, but still behave as before. I'm not such an important 'business partner.'"
Just two artifacts like these are our store's net income for six months... John thought wryly, but he did not voice his thoughts, merely nodding. I need to establish as close a relationship with him as possible. Maybe set him up with my younger sister...?
"Why are you frozen?" Alan asked in confusion, seeing his pensive face.
"Ah! Sorry, I was lost in thought. Never mind, what were you talking about?" he muttered quickly, embarrassed.
"Yes, I was thinking about your sister."
"A…?"
"I'm telling you, you're thinking too loudly."
"You... how...?"
A playful grin blossomed on Alan's lips at the sight of his interlocutor's stunned face.
"Legilimency, nothing special, and I recommend you study Occlumency from your father. Your mind is too open."
"...nonverbally..." John still could not get over the shock, because only two people are known to be capable of such a thing, and these two are the most powerful wizards of this century. The longer he thought about it, the more respect he had for Snape grew.
At that moment his father returned to the room, carrying a simple wooden box in his hand.
"This thing was brought to me..." But, sensing a strange atmosphere hanging in the air, he looked at his son, and then at Alan. "Did something happen?"
"No, we just discussed something."
"Yes, father, everything is fine," the young man quickly pulled himself together, smiling slightly at him.
"Okay," he nodded slowly, turning his gaze to Alan and opening the box. It held a silver chain with a small black snake attached to it, its eyes set with red gemstones. "I've had this artifact for twenty years, but I never got around to selling it... It allows you to speak and understand the language of snakes. I don't think I need to explain why."
"That's understandable, but I'm surprised you didn't simply destroy it. If someone had found it, you'd have been guaranteed a trip to a less-than-ideal place." Pulling the artifact toward him, he touched the snake and smiled slightly. "And indeed, I was thinking too narrowly. Why should I even learn this language when I could simply use an artifact capable of it? Thank you, Mr. Macmillan, you've been a great help. Deduct its cost from the ten thousand..."
"No need, it's been lying around unused for a long time anyway, and it was a shame to throw it away. It's dangerous to store it anyway. Consider this another gift in honor of our friendship."
"I'll gladly accept. I'll be in your debt," Alan answered with a joyful smile, for he was finally one step closer to the Basilisk's heart. Now all that remained was to strengthen his body and remove the curse from his sword, and finally he would be ready to kill the serpent...