The Half-Blood Princess

The Life Of A Spy

Harley received an owl from Harry one day after term began at Hogwarts. All it said was, "You are a very cruel person." She laughed aloud, knowing this was about her little jibe over the DADA classes.

Being the official place the Death Eaters came to for their Dark Arts needs, Harley was able to avoid almost every meeting with Voldemort because she was needed to keep the shop safe. Occasionally, she knew the Dark Lord was sending certain employees of his to check up on her and make sure things were running smoothly.

First was, of course, Bellatrix. Harley noticed that the moment she walked in, her customers quickly bought their items or just up and let without purchasing anything. Vowing to charge Bellatrix double for whatever she bought, Harley said, "And to what do I owe the pleasure of your patronage this afternoon, Lestrange?"

"I'd like a new blade, Snape. The Dark Lord says the curse wore off of mine." Bellatrix held up a blade that did indeed look old.

Harley took it from her and felt no magic in it. "He's correct. I can put a new curse on it. What was the hex originally placed here?"

"A version of your father's Bleeding Curse. Eternal scars no potion can remove," Bellatrix replied.

"And it wore off? That's not my father's curse," Harley said, offended. "Whoever performed it was a pale imitator. Wait here." Harley went into her back room and searched through the small cursed weapons she had either bought from Fletcher or hexed herself. Finding the short blade, she brought it back to the Death Eater in her shop.

Bellatrix held the blade to catch the candlelight. "What is it?"

"My making. Cursed with sectumsempra, and vulnera sanentur will not work to stop the bleeding or scarring. And with one dip in my Polishing Potion, it also won't become dull or rust...unlike this thing you brought to me." She gestured disdainfully at the old knife. "You won't find better, I assure you."

Bellatrix regarded the blade. "I don't like you, but I can't deny you're bright, Snape."

On another day, Voldemort sent in Amycus Carrow, who was probably the most violent Death Eater, asking for Felix Felicis.

Harley laughed scornfully. "Like I would keep something that valuable on hand. Do you need it, or the Dark Lord?"

"What would the difference be?" he sneered.

"My price." She smirked. "And if he is the one that wants it, he should know that he is the one who asked me to never keep it at the ready in case the opposition got their hands on it." She leaned forward, arms crossed. "Next time he wants to check up on me, he should send someone more believable."

Amycus looked furious, but what could he do? "I need a small phial of brown widow venom."

"Twenty Galleons. I will be right back." Harley went into her back room and carefully measured out the poison into her smallest phial. "Depending on the weight of your intended victim, you'll need about two-thirds of this if they were, say, my height and weight. If they were yours, you will require the entire bottle, but only half if they are smaller than I. Need the antidote?"

"Nope." He stalked out without saying anything else.

Through her windows, she noticed an abundance of school kids, which meant that Hogwarts was having their first Hogsmeade trip, though they really should have stopped them. Dumbledore had always seemed reckless, even with human life.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron came in. "How do you check if a potion is real?" Harry asked.

"Odd question. Well, you can test it out on someone. If you're too scared to try, hand it over and I should be able to verify just by colour and consistency," she said.