The Grants Artefacts

02 Caractacus Burke and the Tiny Book

Caractacus Burke and the Tiny Book

13B Knockturn Alley looked just the same as it had two years previous, which was the last time Arundel had visited. She stood in the rain casting a critical eye over the peeling gold and green paint, and the bulging, rotten, wooden frames of the windows. The sign that creaked in the gentle wind was hardly legible. She pushed the door and was displeased to see it stuck and the bell above the door missed its chime.

"Seriously, anybody would think you were out of business," she called as she walked in. The display cabinets were dusty, a bell jar held a severed, shrunken head. And in a cabinet, she saw the same bloodstained pack of cards she had procured for them the last time she had visited. "Are you out of business?" she asked the empty shop. "Have you finally given up?"

A trap door banged behind the counter, Arundel caught a flicker of a reflection in the bell jar. She swung around and waved her hand, almost lazily, Burke's wand flew from his hand. A second flick and it skidded across the floor to her feet.

"No way to treat an old friend Caractacus."

Caractacus' eyes narrowed and a thin tongue licked across dry lips, which cracked into a wheesles smile. "Arundel, always a pleasure."

She turned his wand so it pointed into her chest and held it out for him to take. "Why so jumpy?"

"Something new, something exciting but not something...." he shrugged a conspirators shrug. "Not a day to be raided by ministers using a pollyjuce. Attacking you is the only way to be sure, I had to see how you reacted."

"How did you know the rumours are true?"

"You must teach me how you do it. Many wizards would kill to be able to work without a wand."

"I'll write a book when I'm old and have nothing better to do," Arundel laughed and she walked to the trapdoor where a thorned plant writhed in an attempt to get away from the light. "Who's it going to?"

"Phadious Weaver."

"The herbalist who lives in Scotland?"

Burke nodded once and kicked the trap door closed with the toe of his hobnailed boot. "You think my shops looking bad?"

"Borgen used to deal with the upkeep, where is he?"

"In Germany, buying cursed jewellery."

Arundel rolled her eyes and she moved between the shelves studying what was on offer, "Finally some new stock?"

"Nothing to get excited about, a number of the pure families are paying me retainer fees to keep contraband items safe. I said about the ministry raids, they get off on it I swear."

"You're not keeping things in the shop?" she asked.

Burke motioned to the chimney, "Elsewhere. Enough about me, Arundel, You've been away for ages, come through to the back and tell me about your travels."

"Just a sec-" She turned to the bell above the door and ran her hand across it, the green faded metal transformed into new polished brass, she flicked it and the bell chimed. Burke held open the back door for her and together they moved into a very comfortable sitting room, with furniture that had once been grand but was weathered and faded by time and use. A fire crackled, candles flickered, and a black kettle bubbled on a hot plate by the flames. Burkes' owl watched Arundel with wide orange eyes as she slid down onto the sofa and sighed. "It's been a while since I've been around friends."

Burke's smile was indulgent, but his guard had not dropped enough for her statement to be reciprocated. As much as she was loathe to admit it, his coldness upset her. "Where have you been?" the old man asked as he scratched at the wild hair of his receding hairline.