Hyde loudly clears his throat to gather the attention of the boss. The brawny wizard furrows his brow in dislike glancing at the pureblood witch standing behind him and his brother. "Sir, someone is requesting to speak to you."
"Oh?" Sanderson muttered with looking up. He carefully placed a bookmark between the muggle book, before closing it shut. The old, weathered wizard looked rather inoffensive wearing a knitted sweater. Yet his wolfish brown-yellowish eyes betrayed him.
Floyd and Hyde parted to the side to permit the pureblood witch to enter the study. Euphemia Rowle proudly moved past them, but her tight grip on her skirts betrayed her nerves. Arching her neck high, her cobalt eyes gleam with arrogance.
"You have the look of Livius Rowle," Sanderson idly mused out loud. "Yes, you can only be his last living child, Euphemia Rowle." He paused with a slow wolfish smile. "Quite a few fine folks are more than willing to pay a pretty knut to learn of your whereabouts."
Euphemia's pasty skin goes even paler, but she refuses to tremble in fear. "However, I have something you need, Sanderson." She cockily tilted her head even further. "I know the identity of several Death Eaters."
"And why I would be interested in that?" Sanderson feigned ignorance.
"Father was many things, but he could smell genuine interest a mile away," Euphemia triumphantly said. "Father said that it was abnormal that the Potentate of London showed no interest in the Dark Lord despite what Bellatrix did and others did right under your very nose. It simply did not fit the image of the ruthless Potentate of London that ruled London for so many years with an iron fist."
Sanderson's smile stilled before a coldness settled upon him like a mantle. "I have killed people for less," he frankly acknowledged.
Euphemia stiffens despite herself. "Perchance, but you have always been fair in your dealings, Sanderson."
"I suppose, this is true enough," Sanderson coolly said. "What is exactly that you desire, witch?"
"I need a job and a place to stay," Euphemia barked with a hint of embarrassment. "I saw your guests out there. They are primarily merchants and low-totem Ministry Officials. However, I know all of the greater pureblood circle. They won't attend an establishment that has not been vetoed by another of your circle. I'll introduce and manage the circle for you."
"I find that hard to believe considering your stature," Sanderson callously stated.
Euphemia flushed in humiliation but was unable to argue with the statement. "It was true in the past," she grumbled in anger. "However, my father is dead, and a female has no inheritance rights to become the Head of the Rowle family. My dowry has been confiscated by my cousin, the current head." She spat out in vexation and humiliation. "He utterly despises me and won't ever rescind his decision."
"And I need to repay my fourth cousin back," Euphemia reluctantly added. "Despite being a blood traitor, she willingly took me in. I can't overlook the debt owed to my fourth cousin. She barely earns enough to feed two mouths and a third mouth to feed is severely overstraining her."
"Although your offer is intriguing, I will not alienate my clients for you, witch," Sanderson plainly declared. "There are a number of my guests, who are half-bloods and even muggleborn wizards. I will not have you insulting their birth."
Biting her lip, Euphemia pressed her lips tightly together, before making a reluctant face. "I would be willing to be civil," she shuddered in distaste, "and not be rude to half-bre-, half-bloods and mudbl-, muggleBORN."
Sanderson hid a victorious expression and appeared to still be rather reluctantly said, "I cannot answer today, but return tomorrow to air out the details." He turned toward his two trusted employees. "Hyde and Floyd, please escort Miss Rowle back to her dear cousin, Maribel Pettigrew's home."
Euphemia Rowle appears utterly shocked as she is pulled away by the two brawny wizards. A cold smile appears on Sanderson's face as he watches fear flash across the cobalt eyes of the witch. Purebloods were always so arrogant in their secrecy, yet they were often the easiest of marks to find. He had not even intended it to be so.
Mrs. Pettigrew ran a small herbal shop to feed herself and her son. Sanderson's wife, Clarice visited the shop once or twice per month to order a few herbal potions. Not that they needed them, but Mrs. Pettigrew would not take charity. It was all that his beloved Clarice could do to help the widow and son. But lo and behold a few weeks ago, the widow revealed that she had taken her fourth cousin into her home.
It was very easy to put the two and two together. Sanderson had already known that Mrs. Pettigew was a former Rowle. And who was the missing Rowle? There could only be one, Euphemia Rowle. It is just as Hercule Poirot said, "If the mind is not exercised, they grow the rust."
However, being completely honest, Sanderson did require the girl. His plan could only come to that fruition that much easier if he knew who to whisper hints and lies to. He would avenge his son and of that much, he vowed. Tom Riddle (Voldemort) would perish at his hand or not at all.
Sanderson glances at the clock on the mantel and not a second later the flames in the fireplace turn emerald green. A tall slender wizard with stern imposing features emerges from the fireplace, Reginald Prince. "You are a minute late, Prince," Sanderson purposefully said to rile the pureblood wizard.
"I received an invitation to the grand opening of the Hermetic Cauldron," Reginald coolly answered removing ash from his robes with a wordless spell. "It took more time than I anticipated to extract myself."
"Ah, the former Leaky Cauldron," Sanderson sagely said. "A fine place to go for a pint. The old place is sorely missed. May good, old Tom rest in peace," he added making a sign for the deceased.
Reginald's lips press together as if in aversion before taking a seat. "The Minister of Magic was there herself along with the Daily Prophet, it made for good press."
"And how did you warrant an invite, Prince?" Sanderson asked with a curious gleam. "I thought the occasion was strictly family and invitation only."
"My granddaughter is on amicable terms with the Greengrass heir in her year," Reginald rested his hands in his lap.
"The veela side-branch?"
"That is correct."
Sanderson taps a finger on the armrest. "That particular Greengrass line is abundant in descendants."
Reginald does not respond as Sanderson slyly adds, "Then again, Rita Skeeter has written rather favorably regarding the Prince's and the Minister of Magic as of late. Unusual if one would ask me. I wonder exactly what you have on the nosey reporter?"
"Enough chit-chat, Sanderson," Reginald sharply responded evading the question. "Have you successfully acquired the bait?"
"Yes and no," Sanderson clicked his tongue in annoyance. "I could not convince Lewis to permit a permanent transfer, but Lewis did agree to loan me the bait for quite the hefty price." His yellow wolfish eyes slyly narrow with interest. "Of which half of the cost will be covered by you, Prince."
"It will be worth the cost if your thinly-veiled deception succeeds," Reginald icily responded. "And what of the bait, has the bait successfully been integrated?"
"I was in luck, there was already an opening, and the bait is a professional," Sanderson replied with a cold grin. "The bait has easily assimilated at the storefront. It will be a matter of time before word begins to spread-," he clenched his hand abruptly in the air as if trapping an invisible insect.
Reginald purses his lips as if unhappy at the news. "And what of your wife?" He cautiously said. "She is known to frequent Hogsmeade."
"If Clarice fails to react, then the jig is up," Sanderson matter-of-factly answered with remorse. "I will ensure that Clarice's response occurs in public. The whispers will spread that much faster and reach the ears of Riddle."
Reginald carefully studies Sanderson's face and finds only cold stark truth. For vengeance, Sanderson was even willing to sacrifice the delicate feelings of his wife. Yet Reginald would do the same to avenge his own.
The two wizards discuss a few more topics before goes they part. There were many lies to spin into cleverly woven truths, and scores of traps to set. Vengeance would be theirs.