King of Swords [ Regulus Black ]

Chapter 15

Saturday morning rolls around, and I finally have information to offer Regulus the next day that, one, he doesn't already know in some regard, and two, won't give away my employment with Fawley.

My nerves are shot, but there is nothing I can do at the moment to rectify that. So, I conduct a far easier task; instead, I stage a bank heist.

Well, I don't stage it myself because I am not entirely out of my mind yet.
It costs me the annoyance of dragging Maslin to Diagon Alley. He complains the entire cab ride to Charring Cross because he had to rouse from bed before noon. I hardly hear his moaning; blood is filling my ears and making me lightheaded.

I send Maslin to Twillfitt and Tattings to purchase a new tie for a charity gala next weekend that I just made up. In Maslin's world, if it isn't happening within the next ten minutes, it might as well not occur. I doubt he will even remember I said anything about it by the time it rolls around. If he does, I will feign ignorance. It is better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission, but I plan on doing neither in this case.

It is my lucky day, Diagon Alley is bustling with magical folk. I must duck and weave through the enormous crowd flowing from every direction. I am no one within this sea of people, which is precisely what I want to be.

Gambol and Japes, a ridiculous joke shop that Evan Rosier is exceptionally fond of, is filled to the brim with young patrons. I wind through the aisles of trinkets and potions, occasionally stuffing objects into my cloak pockets.
Once I have shoplifted enough, I must purchase something to appear innocent. If I leave empty-handed, it would almost certainly raise some red flags.

I settle on a teddy bear with eyes that shift and change depending on the mood of whoever is holding it. Right now, he looks a bit mischievous. This will make an excellent gift for Maslin; maybe he will finally be able to recognize the scowl he is constantly wearing.

The clerk rings me up without a second glance despite my cloak that is weighed down. I walk cautiously but quickly toward the doors and back through the influx of people.

It takes quite a while to get around the back alley of Gringott's. When I do, Slick is already waiting for me.

"How did you know I was coming?" I ask him. He typically waits until I pass the front doors to take a smoke break.

"I didn't," he replies, pushing me into the shadows and looking over his shoulder, "I was hoping you would come through. I need a pay advance; I owe someone."

I roll my eyes at him, "thestral betting? Again?"

Slick shrugs his shoulders and throws me a tortured look. Little does he know, I am about to fund his habit for the following year. Enabling such a vice is unethical, but so is what I am asking of him.
I explain my plan to Slick, and it seems he is about to be ill.

"Are you out of your mind?" He snips, "I would lose my job if I were caught. I could be thrown in Azkaban!"

My reply comes in the form of six satchels of gold. It is more than I have ever paid him and worth every cent. Slick looks at the gold and then at me with a relenting grin. Men are so easily purchased.