56 56: Trust is earned, not given

Randolph Spudmore had created something astonishing. And Alaric, being an artificer himself, knew how groundbreaking the man's product was. The Firebolt was the best broom money could buy you. 

It stood in the middle of the shop, encased in glass, surrounded by a mob of wizards and witches of all ages — Quidditch fans. Casual or serious — it didn't matter. They all wanted to see the broom, even if most couldn't afford it. After all, it was designed to be used in the professional field, not by some magical folk simply looking for a means of faster air transport. Other, less expensive and slower brooms were designed for the purpose.

Amongst the rabble of excited wizards, there were some familiar faces. Closest to the display was Draco, head shining like a golden pearl amidst a sea of eccentric colours. His hands were plastered against the glass, and his eyes were glued to the broom. He would glance over to the line at the counter from time to time, watching his dad with a large coin sack in his hands. 

And there he was, Lucius Malfoy, shoulders high and face raised, exuding an air of superiority to those around him... money could do heaps of things, one of them being the fear of their peers. And apparently, it could also get you a rat's tail surgically removed. 

Lord Malfoy had a big ol' sack of galleons in his hand, probably connected to his Gringotts vault via some apparition magic. It was clear he came for a Firebolt for his son. Alaric smirked. It would be funny if he knew who he was buying it from. Alas, it wasn't yet the time. 

Alaric approached the counter, his hands tucked in the pockets of his dark grey vest he wore as Percival. 

"Orion," Alaric called out. Orion's dark hair fell over his scarred face when he shifted to look at his boss. 

"Boss," Orion nodded. "Good Morning," he said, attending to the customer's needs as he spoke. 

"Morning," Exchanging a few words, Alaric grabbed a stack of documents from the counter and took them to his office at the back of the shop. When he closed the door, the sounds coming from the crowd ceased instantly. He loved noise-cancelling charms. 

"Let's see..." he muttered as he sat on the leather armchair. Alaric grabbed the first paper and summoned one of his quills and an ink bottle. 

He then spent the following few hours signing papers and parchments. Most of them were business dealings. Others were small article permissions, interview requests and the like. But what caught Alaric's attention was an order from the Minister of Magic himself. 

Cornelius Fudge had put up an order for new protection cloaks as well as about twenty or so tracking bands. But these cloaks weren't the ones the Ministry would often buy for their Aurors and Hit-Wizards. No, Fudge wanted to purchase the ones above:  the Hexbane Cloaks.

Alaric could only remember one time he sold it. It was a custom request that he decided to keep in the catalogue. Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody. He had come limping into his shop last summer, his artificial eye darting around, inspecting every nook and cranny. He knew who the old Auror was instantly. With a frown like his, who wouldn't? Alaric wasn't even using Legilimency, but he could feel the power of the man's Occlumency shields just by standing close to him. 

Moody had grunted a few words and then gave him a piece of parchment with all the charms and enchantments he wanted. It was a long list, but it was ready by the end of the month.

The lack of sales certainly wasn't because of the quality. Crafted from rare materials, the cloak could absorb several offensive spells, rending them harmless before needing to cool down. The price was the reason. 

A cloak like this was a luxury few could afford. Not only that, Alaric could decide if he sold it or not. An item of such quality wouldn't do good in the hands of a former Death Eater. 

Cloaks aside, he was also quite curious about the tracking bands. Those were nothing special. Just simple bands one could put in an object or person so they could track them using a crystal ball. They were most commonly used by the Azkaban Aurors on duty to transport criminals in or out of the prison. Or by overprotective fathers who feared their sons or daughters were sneaking off. Or, well, creeps. But Alaric tipped the Aurors off about those. 

So, why would Fudge want around twenty of those, coupled with five Hexbane Cloaks, all funded by his vault? And why was he keeping information from Senior Aurors like James Potter and Sirius Black? Did the Department of Magical Law Enforcement know the specifics, or were they in the dark? So many questions, so few answers. 

Then it clicked. They couldn't possibly be telling the full story in the newspapers. The foreign ones were understandable, but The Daily Prophet... didn't make sense. Such shocking news was Rita's favourite. And even if it was any other journalist, they'd probably try to dig deeper for more details. But for some reason, The Daily Prophet was singing praises of the Minister and his team, barely elaborating apart from telling that Pettigrew had escaped. 

Meaning one of Alaric's old theories could be true. Fudge, or at least the position of Minister, held enough shares of the Prophet to manipulate it to show what he wanted. 

__________ 

*Knock*Knock*

It was already late during the afternoon, after closing hours, when someone knocked on the office door. Alaric broke out from his focus, placing the quill beside the remaining documents waiting to be signed. 

"Come in," he said. 

Opening the door, Orion walked in with a large notebook, followed by Thing. 

"The sales from today," Orion grinned as he set the book down in front of Alaric, who glanced up from his paperwork. The book listed names and purchases, showing everything people had bought. There were also a few new orders on the front table, largely from Quidditch teams looking for Firebolts. Alaric's smile broadened as he learned how much money they'd made only today.

"Don't forget to transfer Randolph's share," said Alaric. He gave the sales book back to Orion and continued signing off the last of the documents. 

"How did the meeting with Madame Dampierre go?" Orion asked, sitting down on the chair across the table. He quickly snapped his fingers and a tea set appeared before him. 

"Quite well," Alaric replied without looking up from the papers while tea was poured into his cup. Only a few of them were left before he could go home. "In the next month, the Occamy shells should be arriving. We can start the project then," 

"And will her family agree to this?" Worry showed in Orion's voice. "They're one of the biggest suppliers of the shells in Southern Europe, Boss," He paused and sipped on his tea to hydrate his mouth. "Even with all the terms we offered, I just can't see them relinquishing that," he muttered. 

"Her father is a nonce and her mother dead," Alaric said with a straight face. "Elise has been leading the Dampierre family business since she graduated from Beauxbatons Academy, practically raising it from the state her parents left it in," With a last stroke of the quill, he signed the last of the documents. He leaned back on the chair, crossed his legs, and looked at Orion. "Her siblings have yet to graduate, meaning every decision lies on her," 

Orion nodded in understanding, glancing over at the other side of the room. On top of a table stood something akin to a box covered by a cloth. In his opinion, it was revolutionary. 

"As you know, Orion," Alaric continued. "Silver deriving from Occamy shells's value can't be compared to the value of true silver. Their compositions are extremely different," He flicked his finger, making two ingots of the different silvers appear. "One is the best magic conductor around. The other is just expensive metal sickles are made of and good against werewolves," Alaric grabbed an ingot with each hand. Soon, the left one emitted a bright light, while the other remained the same. "One, albeit rare and expensive, is perfect for what we want to make, while the other — not so much," 

It was a lot to digest. Alaric knew that. That's why he explained to Orion something he already knew in hopes he'd understand where he was getting to. Alaric was quite proud when he saw the level of worry his only employee demonstrated. He spent a lot of money securing the supply from Elise. But even then, with his set of skills, Orion could easily find a job elsewhere if the Emporium went bankrupt. 

"With the deal you made," Orion scratched his chin in thought. "We'll be one of the few consumers of Occamy shells, not only in the British Isles, but Europe as well," Alaric nodded in agreement and urged him to continue. "Meaning, after the product enters the market, we'll be the sole vendors and manufacturers..." 

"Exactly," Alaric grinned. "But that's not all there's to it, is it?" 

"No... it isn't..." Orion eyes widened and he slammed his hands on the table in enthusiasm. "You're a genius, Boss! It'll take ages for the competition to figure out how to make them — especially with the anti-theft charms! And even if they do, they won't have a stable supply of Occamy silver to craft them in large quantities!" 

"Correct again," Alaric laughed at his excitement but motioned for him to settle down. "Not only that but being the sole providers will help us develop a great deal of connections within the European Ministries for... future endeavours,"

Thinking they needed to celebrate, Orion reached for a cupboard, revealing a vintage bottle of a fine brand of fire whiskey. They stayed in the shop until later than usual, discussing business plans over a glass or two. Of course, Alaric didn't drink it. He just vanished the liquor before it touched his lips. 

A soft moon glow permeated the office windows when Alaric and Orion decided to wrap it up. 

"Boss, I just wanted to ask something," Orion said. He placed the bottle back into the drawer. He was tipsy, evident by his light sway as he walked. 

"Go ahead," Alaric said. 

"Deals like this... s-shouldn't the other owner know?" he asked, holding back a hiccup. 

"Don't worry about it," Alaric chuckled. He had forgotten Orion still had no idea who he was, much less Lysandra, who barely stopped by. And when she did, she couldn't transfigure herself to another appearance. He had never spoken to her. "She has other things to worry about. But she does know and she approves," 

"So it's a she..." Orion whispered to himself. 

It wasn't as if revealing his identity never crossed Alaric's mind. He'd known him for quite some time. From their days at the underground club until now. Back then, Orion was just trying to make a living selling artefacts too good to be sold in a place like that, and Alaric urgently needed a talented employee. 

After all, he'd done the past two years, from helping set the shop up to running it while Alaric was on a business trip. Still, he had yet to remove that fake scar that spread along his face. Orion was brilliant at charms, but transfiguration was definitely not his forte. 

Alaric considered him, much like Blaise, Theodore, Daphne, and Tracey, a friend. He felt a tinge of guilt hiding his identity from him. But who would want to work for a thirteen-year-old? 

Soon, the two had closed up the shop. Barely anyone was on the streets. They were either dining on the floors above the alley, where the expensive restaurants were, or were holed up in a tavern somewhere in Knockturn Alley. 

"Goodnight, Boss," Orion said. He quickly turned around and went towards a public fireplace. 

"Night," Alaric said, deep in thought. 

Truthfully, Alaric figured Orion was hiding something important. He had never read his mind, nor investigated him too much out of respect. And because of that respect, he didn't really mind. He'd let it play out naturally. Orion had earned his trust, so when he felt safe revealing who he really was, Alaric would do the same. Then, he'd enjoy his reaction finding out he tried to offer a kid fire whisky. 

**********

A/N: I've been wanting to write this chapter for a long time, as Orion will be an important character in the story. I've seen some people who've guessed who he is and others missing, but not by much. Keep guessing :) 

Fun fact! Did you know an ancestor of the Malfoy family almost married Queen Elizabeth the First? J.K. Rowling revealed it in a Pottermore article.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!