Hogwarts i am snape

"None, you say?" Snape interrupted Mr. Borgin, pulling out his money bag again and shaking it.

The clink of Galleons made an enticing sound.

"No—" Mr. Borgin said hesitantly, his gaze never leaving the money bag, "It's just—wait a moment, Mr. Longbottom."

With that, he slipped behind the counter's curtain.

A moment later, Mr. Borgin emerged, carrying a small box.

"I hope these meet your needs, Mr. Longbottom," Mr. Borgin said, carefully opening the lid.

Inside the box lay a messy pile of wands; some bore the marks of crude repairs after cracking, while others had suspicious dark red spots on their shafts.

"Should I ask how these came to be here?" Snape asked, picking up a wand with a look of disdain. "How much are they?"

"You have excellent taste, Mr. Longbottom," Mr. Borgin said vaguely. "These are all wands recovered through proper channels, fully functional. The one you hold is made of elder and unicorn hair, very powerful, and only thirty Galleons."

"If it were truly that powerful, it wouldn't be here," Snape scoffed, tossing the wand back into the box. "Five Galleons each."

"That's not fair, Mr. Longbottom!" Mr. Borgin cried out, looking wronged. "These wands are all top quality, twenty Galleons is the lowest I can go. You know, Ollivanders sells them for seventy Galleons each; this is less than a third of that price."

"Are you trying to sell these mismatched second-hand goods at the price of custom-made new wands?" Snape was unmoved. "Five Galleons each, I need ten."

Mr. Borgin's face crumpled. "Seven Galleons," he gritted out. "This is the same price Ollivanders gives to young witches and wizards. With all the various fees, I'll be losing money."

You're running a business with no overhead, where the costs are borne by others, Snape thought grumpily. But it didn't matter; he wasn't short on a few Galleons.

"Fine," he said. "Seventy Galleons total."

He then picked out eleven wands in better condition from the box, trying the most comfortable one in his hand. A pleasant warmth spread through the wand's shaft, resonating subtly with his magic.

"Package these up for me," he said.

"You've taken one too many—" Mr. Borgin quietly reminded him.

"Are you selling them or not?" Snape narrowed his eyes.

"Alright," Mr. Borgin swallowed. "Consider it making a friend!"

He pulled out a black leather bag and began to wrap the wands.

Snape placed seventy-seven Galleons on the counter. While Mr. Borgin was packing, he tapped his fingers rhythmically on the counter.

"Mr. Borgin," he suddenly began, "don't you have any 'big deals' here?"

"What kind of 'big deal' do you mean?" Mr. Borgin's hands paused.

"For instance," Snape said, "Goblin-made silverwork."

Mr. Borgin's eyes immediately lit up from behind the counter.

"Oh, that would indeed be a big deal," he whispered. "You know, since the Goblin Rebellions of 1612, almost no new goblin silverwork has fallen into wizard hands. A single piece of silverwork is worth at least a thousand Galleons."

Snape was well aware of this. From the memories of the house-elf Hokey, he knew that Caractacus Burke himself had tried to buy a piece of goblin-made armour from Hepzibah Smith for five hundred Galleons, and even then, Mr. Burke had been refused.

"What type of goblin silverwork are you looking for, Mr. Longbottom?" Mr. Borgin's voice pulled Snape from his thoughts.

"Weapons," Snape replied curtly.

"For collection?" Mr. Borgin asked curiously.

"What else?" Snape said impatiently. "What other use could such a thing have?"

"Of course they have great use," Mr. Borgin said, somewhat displeased, as if his expertise had been insulted. "Goblin-forged silverwork doesn't need polishing, repels dust, and absorbs things that strengthen it."

"Which conveniently makes them excellent collectibles, doesn't it?" Snape retorted bluntly. "You don't even need house-elves to clean them."

He didn't care if Mr. Borgin thought he was a fat sheep. His encounters with Abraxas Malfoy, Fenrir Greyback, and others had confirmed one thing: his power was much greater than he had previously imagined.

It would be excellent if he could smoothly acquire goblin silverwork through Mr. Borgin, but if the man had any illicit thoughts, Snape wouldn't mind earning a little extra. After all, a thousand Galleons was no small sum.

"Weapons are very rare, sir, and very expensive," Mr. Borgin said. "If you need armour, I might be able to find you one or two incomplete pieces of protection."

"I already have goblin-made armour at home; I'm just missing a weapon," Snape replied nonchalantly. "Well, if you don't have it, then never mind."

He picked up the bag of wands, ready to leave, but Mr. Borgin called out to him again.

"If you truly need a goblin-made weapon, Mr. Longbottom," Mr. Borgin said, "you might try Knockturn Alley, number 135. A goblin named Flix lives there."

"Understood, thank you, Mr. Borgin," Snape nodded, saying, "If I find a satisfactory piece of silverwork, I'll come back to thank you."

"You needn't be so formal," Mr. Borgin bowed politely. "If you are satisfied, Flix will also give me a commission."

Snape pushed open the shop door and strode out of Borgin and Burkes, the bell above the door jingling softly once more.

Walking deeper into Knockturn Alley, the buildings on both sides of the street became even more dilapidated, their dark walls covered in strange symbols.

Several cloaked figures hurried past, carefully avoiding each other's gaze. Snape could feel a few eyes linger on him for a moment, but when his sharp gaze swept over them, the peeping figures immediately darted back into the shadows.

Knockturn Alley 135 was a crooked two-story building, as unremarkable as its neighbours, with heavily peeling paint on its door.

Standing at the entrance, Snape raised his wrist, preparing to check the time, only to find that the white clouds on the dial of the watch Eileen had given him for his coming-of-age had turned into dark storm clouds, and several small birds were huddled, trembling, at the bottom of the dial.

This was the first time he had seen the watch's dial change.

"Interesting," he murmured to himself, looking up at the narrow sliver of sky. Although the streets of Knockturn Alley were in the shadow of the buildings on both sides, the exposed patch of blue sky indicated that it was still a bright, sunny day outside.

The change in the watch was undoubtedly a warning. A cold smile played on Snape's lips as he revealed the newly acquired wand from his robes.

He didn't knock, but instead pointed directly at the shaky wooden door, silently uttering a powerful Blasting Curse.

"BOOM!"

A flash of light, and the deafening roar shook half the alley.

The wooden door shattered, and even a few cracks appeared in the wall; the entire small building seemed to sink by a couple of inches.

As a cry of alarm came from within the door, Snape, shielded by a Shield Charm, was already standing at the entrance, his wand pointed directly at the source of the sound. "Petrificus Totalus!" he silently intoned in his mind.

A goblin with a large head, sallow skin, and long limbs was coughing amidst the debris. Before it could react, its legs and arms snapped together, and its body pitched forward, falling face-down stiffly onto the ground with a thump.

Snape quickly turned to look outside the door; several curious heads peered out from nearby windows.

"Does anyone wish to come inside and play?" he asked coldly.

The peeping figures immediately retreated, and the windows slammed shut.

After confirming there were no other threats, Snape used a Reparo charm to restore the damaged door. Within seconds, the house returned to its dilapidated but intact appearance.

Only then did he walk towards the fallen goblin, nudging it with his foot to turn it over.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Flix," Snape looked down at the goblin's terrified eyes. "Mr. Borgin sent me. I heard you have goblin silverwork here?"

The goblin's nose had broken when it fell, and dark green blood flowed to its mouth.

"Oh, your nose is broken," Snape frowned. "Episkey!"

A blue light flashed, and the goblin's nose healed.

"See how friendly I am," Snape raised his wrist and looked at his watch again; the dial now showed clear skies.

"It seems you've become more sensible than before." He lightly tapped his wand, and ropes from a Binding Charm tightly secured the goblin. Then he lifted the Full Body-Bind Curse from Flix.

"You insult me!" the goblin shrieked as soon as it could speak, its black eyes glaring sideways, looking furious. "I won't sell you any silverwork!"

"Is that so?" Snape dragged over a chair, forcing the goblin to sit, and then sat opposite it. "So you do have goblin silverwork then?"

The goblin clamped its mouth shut, refusing to answer.

"Alright, Mr. Flix," Snape sighed, pulling a small vial filled with purple liquid from his pocket. "Not speaking, are we? Then allow me to ask you a question. Are you prepared to drown, or fall from a great height, or perhaps," he shook the potion bottle, "be poisoned? Oh, and by the way, I have a half-giant friend who absolutely loves to bake goblins into pies and eat them. Are you interested?"

"Let me go!" the goblin struggled, finally willing to speak. "This is unworthy of my race's dignity!"

"It's still early, not yet time for dreaming, Mr. Flix," Snape said with a smile. "What wizard doesn't know you goblins can perform wandless magic?"

"Never mind, I'll do it myself." He raised his wand, pointing at the goblin. "This was for your own good, I worried about messing with your mind. Legilim—"

"Wait, sir!" the goblin immediately shrieked. "The silverwork is in the cabinet in the basement!"

"Good, good, thank you, Mr. Flix, you should have said so earlier," Snape lowered his wand. "Where is the basement?"

Flix reluctantly pointed his chin towards a dirty rug.

Lifting the rug, Snape tapped the floorboards beneath and chanted: "Aparecium!"

A trapdoor with a pull-ring appeared.

With a gentle tug upwards, as dust scattered, the trapdoor revealed a staircase leading into darkness.

Snape casually transformed a chair into a torch and lit it, making Flix float ahead.

"You'll come down with me," he said, ignoring the goblin's protests.

The basement was even more cluttered than the floor above, piled high with various peculiar objects. The air was filled with the smell of mold and oxidized metal.

"The silverwork is right there," Flix pointed to a cabinet in the corner. "Just open it."

Snape keenly noticed an animal's horn hanging on the wall above the cabinet, with clear grooves at its base.

He had read about it in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them—it was a Horned Serpent's horn, which explodes with the slightest touch.

"It's right in there, take it," Flix said eagerly. "Just please let me go."

"Not so fast, Mr. Flix," Snape smiled gently. "I'll still need your assistance—Imperio!"

Fear appeared on the goblin's face, immediately followed by a light, easy, joyous expression.

A peculiar sensation swiftly spread into Snape's arm, a tingling warmth seeming to flow from his mind, connecting him to his wand and the recently cast spell through his muscles and veins.

He then pointed his wand at the goblin again, releasing the ropes that bound Flix. Then, under his command, the goblin obediently walked to the cabinet and opened it.

Beside a few small piles of Galleons and some small vials lay a long, thin, shimmering silver dagger. Flix took it out and respectfully handed it to Snape.

The dagger was cold to the touch but immediately began to warm, as if adjusting to its new owner's body temperature.

Snape wielded the dagger a few times, feeling a hint of disappointment; he wondered how effective it would be against a Basilisk. Still, something was better than nothing.

He tucked the dagger into a hidden pocket inside his robes and gave the goblin a bright smile: "Sweet dreams, Mr. Flix, and thank you for your gift."

"Obliviate!"

Flix's eyes immediately became blank and vacant. Then, he swayed, collapsed onto the floor, and fell into a deep slumber.

Snape counted out five hundred Galleons and scattered them around Flix.

I truly am a good person, he thought. Though I wonder if Flix will still pay Mr. Borgin his commission.

What a truly Snape-like negotiation! He certainly knows how to get what he wants, doesn't he?