The shadows have begun to grow in Diagon Alley, but the cobblestones are still hot, and the heat of the day is still upon them. Shoppers on the street fan themselves while others wipe the sweat off their forehead and the back of their neck. Wiser shoppers scurry with their umbrellas to keep them in the lukewarm shade and out of the sun, while other's cast cooling charms that will quickly fade away within the hour.
Despite the heat, a thin, cold faced wizard with sleeked back hair strides about at a rapid pace in dark chartreuse-colored robes. His thin lips are in a perpetual frown as his stained fingertips rapidly tap as if impatiently against the palm of his hand. The shoppers are too much in a hurry to take note of his appearance, but a few of the cart owners spot the wizard and tilt their head in acknowledgment. And as it should be considering the fact that he had found the cure for werewolfism, Damocles Belby.
Damocles pays the shop-cart owners no further attention as he makes his way to the Apothecary to pick up a few potion ingredients that were at long last in stock. He would have sent Wilfredius, but the boy was at his sister's wedding. Naturally, he had been invited, but he had pointedly declined as he would never deem it fit to descend upon such a noisy event.
Damocles sneers to himself, before darting into his destination. There were not many shoppers inside the Apothecary that smelled horribly of bad eggs and rotted cabbages on the best of days. And especially in this heat, the stench was even fouler, and weak stomachs had been known to overflow at the very smell.
Having smelled worse potion fumes from his cauldron, Damocles ignores the nauseating stench and marches towards the counter. The walls and tables of the Apothecary are lined with hundreds of jars of herbs, dried roots, bright powders, bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, snarled claws, etc.
The Apothecary owner and counter clerk is an older middle-aged wizard with his back turned to the counter as he rummages through the countless jars. Loudly clearing his throat at the counter, Damocles stiffly says, "I am here for my purchases, Mr. Herbert."
The middle-aged man paused amidst his task, before replying, "You will have to wait, Mr. Belby just like the rest of my clients."
Damocles sniffs impatiently and lets out a low grunt, before glaring at anyone in the nearby vicinity that dared to approach him much less even pause to stare at him. The rest of the shoppers within the Apothecary wisely take a hint and decide to go shopping elsewhere. Their errands as it turned out were not especially important in the grand scheme of things.
At long last, the shop owner, Mr. Herbert turns around and reaches under the counter for the readied package. Without a hint of worry or remorse, he carefully places the package onto the counter and says, "Try to make it last this time, Belby. You are surely my most wasteful client."
Damocles loudly snorts at the remark and hides the spark of glee in his eyes. Herbert was the only one who dared to exchange a banter of words with him nowadays. It was quite refreshing, and a tradition since the start of their business relationship.
"Mr. Herbert, I do not believe it is any of your business as to how I choose to use said ingredients," Damocles primly retorted as he reached for the package on the counter only to find, Mr. Herbert still holding onto the parcel with a wide smirk on his face.
"It is when I have to put up with your poor apprentices tearful pleading when requesting an out of stock potion's ingredient," Mr. Herbert firmly countered. "Wilfredius is a right good lad, and how you managed to land an apprentice like him is still a mystery to me."
Damocles nods his head once at the shopkeeper snatches his parcel from Mr. Herbert, who's lips twitch upward hiding a smile. With his head held high, Damocles stomps away and out of the Apothecary into the infernal heat. Luckily, his next destination is close by the cauldron shop of Madam Potage. The shop would be dusty and warm, but Madam Potage always had a cool drink on hand for her most frequent clients.
Feigning being distracted, the usual sly and shrewd figure of Damocles peeks out of the corner of his at the ruffians rapidly approaching in the distance. Trying not to tense to make this the least painful as possible, he takes a deep breath and lets out a gasp as a hex slammed into his body. A painful, burning sensation is felt around his knees as they quite literally are suddenly on the back of his legs. With his balance completely off, he stumbles onto the ground as his precious parcel tumbles to the ground.
Before Damocles can pull him to his knees, he suddenly finds himself bound and gagged by three vile miscreants. A few patrons on the streets notice and begin to shout for aid, but too late the three wizards pop away with their kidnapped booty. The first person to arrive at the scene is Mr. Herbert followed by a pair of A.P.D. officers, who happened to be close by Twizzle and Banks. (Two of the famous four to be first cured, who had been assigned to Diagon Alley for press purposes).
Twizzle, a wizard with piercing eyes, and burly eyes glanced around, while Banks, a smiling gentleman most solemn, but calm approaches the witnesses. "Can any of you tell us details about the incident that has just occurred?"
Mr. Herbert impatiently replies, "Those bastards took Belby!"
"What?!" Twizzle roared as his head snapped up in shock.
Despite his feelings of shock, Banks motions to Twizzle to stem any more emotional outbursts as he says, "Are you referring to Damocles Belby, sir?"
"Who else?" Mr. Herbert snapped, before biting back a surlier comment as Banks and Twizzle's eyes shake in shock and anger.
"Belby was in a hurry, and he didn't notice anyone behind him. I wouldn't have noticed, but he forgot one of his packages." Mr. Herbert goes still as he gently bends down and picks up the slightly trampled package of Belby. "I'll just hold on to this, gentlemen if you don't mind. I'm certain he'll want his package once he is returned." (And if he was perfectly honest, Mr. Herbert had done it on purpose to rile Belby a bit more for fun. It was their strange little ritual, but one that they both enjoyed.)
"Thank you," Banks sincerely said as he and Twizzle shared a look. They had not even had an opportunity to save their savior, and now he was in danger. "But a moment, sir, if you, please."
Mr. Herbert stands rigidly as he waits and to his surprise, the burly figure is gone, and in its place is a great large wolf. The large wolf brings his head closer to the package and wrinkles his nose at the strong scents but sniffs carefully trying to find the much-needed scent. Those watching including Mr. Herbert held with bated breath until the wolf pulls away and lets out a loud, sharp bark in confirmation, he had four scents, but no trail.