With the use of twin bright overhead gaslights, she held the trays angled up slightly to display them for him. "These are our usual Ancient House style betrothal rings," she explained. "Of course, we can also do custom requests, if that is more Mister Potter's preference."
Harry gave a light grunt in acknowledgement, and the sale-witch continued.
"Of course, I know little about... Miss Granger, wasn't it?" But, without waiting for confirmation, she continued, "But we know the Greengrass family quite well.
"If I recall, Miss Daphne has light blue eyes, a light complexion, and light blonde hair. And I've heard Miss... Hermione?... has brown eyes, I think, light complexion and mid to chocolate brown hair. I do not know if we have any rings that could easily match both ladies."
"That's okay," Harry replied, still looking down at the trays. "I'm fully aware of what Mister Potter wants. And he describes Miss Granger's eyes as chocolate brown, the same as her hair."
Indicating one of the rings, he described, "He wants something like that one for both ladies. Except he wants a setting of three small stones of equal cut and size in a closed shape. Each stone is to be an identical heart-cut, or loveheart-shaped cut, with the points pointing into the centre of the symbol so it appears like a six-petalled flower. And a similar ring in a man's style. If you have a spare small sheet of parchment, ink and a quill I can draw it for you."
"Certainly," she said, moving to a small desk and drawing the three items out of a drawer. She brought them back and placed them for Harry's use on the counter next to the trays.
Harry then carefully, drew the shape of three heart-cut shapes with the bottom tip of each pointing into the middle. It made a somewhat hexagonal shape of the three stones.
Once he was completed he said, "Now for the stones, themselves. For each ring, one each of aquamarine, sunstone and emerald. For Miss Greengrass's ring, the aquamarine stone is to be centre top; for Miss Granger, the sunstone is to be centre top; and for Mister Potter, the emerald."
Harry quickly drew two matching stone patterns and named each stone according to what he'd just said.
Spinning it about so the witch could see what he meant, he asked, "Is that clear enough for you?"
Bending over to look closer at the three designs, the witch was frowning and replied, "Yes - yes, I believe it is. You understand, of course, the stones will be a little on the tiny side and it will still be expensive?"
"I do," Harry replied with a gentle nod. "These rings are to represent the uniqueness of their three-way soul bond, and to show one and all that they are genuinely committed to one another."
"Yes; so it would," the witch said, now clearly understanding what she was looking upon.
Looking back at Harry, she explained, "This will be quite the unusual, if not unique, project I have ever undertaken. Now, what metal do you want for the rings, themselves?"
"White gold," he said. "I've been told their bonds glowed silver with a slight pearl hue when they were initiated, so that sounds like the perfect metal for the ring."
"That it does," she smiled.
After getting a promise of discretion for the work and who ordered it, a promise of a rush on the order - once Harry offered a fifteen percent bonus if the work could be done and delivered within a week - and an advanced payment of the total amount of just over one thousand galleons, Harry left the store with a bit of a skip in his step.
His next stop took him down Knockturn Alley. Just as he entered he raised the hood of his cloak and placed a second glamour over his face that would give it a type of blur and make his voice sound a little deeper and menacing.
With an air of supreme confidence he made his way down the Alley. Other witches and wizards, recognising the stride of someone powerful, stepped out of his way as he passed.
Finding the store he wanted, he entered.
At the counter, he pushed the little bell to summon the store owner to the front of the store.
"Yes, sir?" asked the store owner, a wizened old man, coming from behind a set of shelves behind the short counter. There were no other customers.
"I need six auror-capable minimum quick draw wand holsters," Harry firmly stated.
"Such are somewhat illegal," said the proprietor. "Ol' Jimmy can be in lotsa troubles with the DMLE, if he sells such a thing to you."
Leaning forward and speaking a little quieter but just as firm, Harry said, "The Dark Lord will soon return. He will reward those who have been of service."
The old man's eyes widened a little before he stuttered, "O-of course, sir! O-one moment, please."
He quickly ducked back between the shelves and returned with a plain unmarked small crate. He placed it on the bench, quickly looked around, and removed the lid.
Inside, Harry could see at least a dozen such holsters rested within. He then reached inside and removed six at random. "They are all in good working order?" he demanded.
"Of course, Sir," the store keeper replied. "Hit Wizard level and quality."
With a grunt, Harry asked, "How much?"
"O-one hundred galleons each, Sir," the man said.
Harry could see the man clearly did not believe his own pricing. He snapped his hand out with his fast Quidditch reflexes and grabbed the man by a fistful of his robe lapels before dragging him hard against and slightly over the counter.
"When I asked how much I did not expect to be so insulted. Try again," he snarled. And shoved the man back away again.
"Y-yes, sir; sorry Sir," the man stammered clearly frightened. "Just a test, Sir. I-I'm sure you understand.
Harry just stood there silent and trying to look menacing.
The old man nervously wet his lips and said, "F-Forty galleons each, Sir."
"Thirty," Harry snarled. "For your insult."
Looking a little pained, the old man begged, "Thirty-five, please, Sir."
Harry stood glaring at the man to make him sweat a little more before he grunted in the affirmative. He pulled two hundred and ten galleons from his pouch and dropped the coins on the counter top. He hesitated a moment before dropping another ten galleons on the counter and said, "For a jar of holster polish and your trouble."
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