Chapter 75 - Papa Legba (1/2)
In the darkness of Diagon Alley, three hooded figures stand before a very, small shop the size of a single room that has a brightly painted red door. ”Is this the place?” Grumbled the burly figure of Death Eater, Seth.
”Yes, apparently the shop is always moving on its own,” replied the long-nosed Death Eater, Aeron. ”But there are rumors that this place can only be found by those willing to pay the price. What do you think Lestrange?”
The two men turn to stare at Rodolphus Lestrange, who since his wife's passing had become rather silent and grave. The silence grows until neither man can bear it, however, before they have a chance to speak, Rodolphus says, ”Whatever the case, perhaps, we should heed the rumors with caution. For as the rumors go the Rain Man answers any question for a price, I do believe we should be more concerned with that he will request of us in exchange.”
Seth furrowed his brows and coolly retorts, ”How can we possibly fear anyone other than our Dark Lord.” Lestrange does not answer nor seems to care as the words just slide off of him like water over oil. Seth huffs indignantly and mutters, ”Cold-hearted bugger.”
”Calm yourself, Seth,” Aeron chided. ”What Lestrange said is true, we should be wary when bargaining with this man.” Seth snorts indignantly but does not make a rude comment again. ”Well then, who'll knock on the door?”
Without waiting, Seth bravely steps forward and before his fist can connect with the crimson door, the door lets out a loud squeak as it opens on its own. A bit embarrassed, Seth hastily lowers his large fist and gruffly says, ”Let's go.” And steps into the darkness of the room, the other two men stride inside as the crimson door loudly shuts behind them.
The room is lit by hundreds of candles as straw-like dolls are pinned to the walls, while ancient wooden masks and an even an array of skulls. However, the strangest decorations are neatly dressed strange little dolls precisely sitting all around, watching. Ignoring the eyes of the dolls that seem to watch their every movement, intricate spells are drawn on the walls in bright white chalk, while the floor is largely bare without a single drawn spell. However, upon a closer examination, there can be seen a dark ink-like substance carefully drawn across the entire the length of the floor in thin lines to effectively create a giant spell matrix.
Sitting at a table wearing a crimson turban around his head a dark-skinned man does not look up as he turns tarot cards over onto the table. ”So, you have come seeking answers? But what can this humble practitioner of superstitious magic, do for you powerful wizards on this fine evening?” The man smirked as the sleeve of his white robe brushes against the wooden table causing the wooden and other colored bead necklaces to gently rattle as well.
Aeron takes a step forward and ignores the tone of the question. For it was true, the modern-day wizarding world did not look well upon practicing sorcerers of so-called ancient, superstitious magic's. ”We seek answers and we are told you that the Rain Man can provide an answer for any question for a price,” Aeron replied.
”That much is certainly true,” the man mused as he continued to turn the cards. ”However, the answer that which you seek may be at a price that none of you can afford.”
”Nevertheless, we will still pay it even if it costs us our lives,” Aeron fervently stated.
”A life is a very good trade indeed,” the Rain Man said as he paused at seeing the card in hand. Quickly turning the card over, he adds, ”However, there are far worse things than death.”
”We fear not the price,” Aeron stubbornly said again.