Knockturned for The Better (Harry Potter Shopkeeper Quest)

View: https://i.imgur.com/YCe9dtc.png

Have our protagonist done by Melisa!

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[Accept - Free]
A more complete structure… complete with a roommate. However, this space won't be fully your own, and wizarding culture looks down on Goblins, which might not be helpful for sales.

Thanks to @Armoury for the beta!

—

Nikola was, by muggle standards. A young man. Nikola is, by wizarding kind standards, a very young man. Nikola however, was far from a fool. He had too many experiences, too many stories to take things at face value anymore. "Where would you be staying in my shop? Do you plan on opening your firm in my shop? Would you find fault in me redecorating?"

The goblin waves her tiny hands dismissively, her eyes widening. "Slow down there. I'm just looking for a place to stay. Don't care what you do with that place, I'll be taking up my own space. I'm saving up for office of my own!" Trimsy then lowers her hands, grinning with sharp teeth. "And I'll be staying somewhere well out of the way. So what do you say?" she finishes, then proffers a hand forward.

Nikola stares down at the goblin for a moment, pondering. Then, gently, he takes the hand and shakes it. It was a rather awkward affair, with Trimsy standing on the tips of her toes and Nikola having to kneel down. But the deal was struck, with an undead bunny as witness.

—

It was a quick walk from there to Plot Ninety-Eight. It was, thankfully, exactly as Nikola had left it. Perhaps with just the inclusion of a few more bird droppings. Trimsy moves a hand to her chin, scratching it, her black eyes flitting from wreckage to wreckage with the clinical efficiency of a medi-wizard. She then steps up onto the old moss-stained brick foundation of the structure, she looks down at the ground, turning her head this way and that, studying it. Then she taps her boot against it, then again, then again. "You've got an aquifer under here."

"Is… that a problem?" Nikola asks, whose knowledge of engineering ended with toy blocks in youth.

"Means I'll always have fresh water for the bath." Trimsy says with a grin. "Now stand back a bit."

Nikola does so without further prompting, watching as the goblin raises her right hand. She holds it there for several seconds, her eyes shifting around. Then she grins once more and curls the hand into a fist. With the sound of groaning wood the burned ruins of the building are yanked off the foundation, rapidly flying instead to float above the center of it, wood slamming against wood, metal clanking against metal. It spins rapidly in the air, pressing together tighter, and tighter. What at first had been the size of a shed became a car, then a man, and then, with a pop. It was gone. Leaving nothing but scorched brick and a single nail. Which, with a pop, disappears right after like a left-behind child.

The fist relaxes, the hand lowers. Then with a dramatic flourish her feet spread along the ground, her arms stretching out in equal length to either side. At first, nothing happens, then with the sound of grinding stone the foundation lowers itself further into the Earth, sinking, and sinking, going down a good dozen feet.

"Right then!" Trimsy cackles. With another wave of her hand the exposed roots and plants on the newly revealed dirt burn away. Then she pulls open a pocket on her overalls and leans to the side, one eye open watching it, the other closed as she tries to seemingly distance her face from the open pocket as much as possible. The reason is revealed a split second later as hundreds of white marble bricks come flying out of it at full speed. They rocket upwards, dancing in the air, before they surge down into the newly made hole, covering the old foundation and walls in seconds. A spatula and a bucket follow a moment after that, speedily going through and mortaring them all together, the bricks helpfully lifting themselves out of the way as the spatula quickly does its work. Then they dart back into her pocket and Trimsy snaps it shut.

Turning slightly, the goblin looks at Nikola with a grin. "Right, that's my space done, now. Wood flooring?"

Nikola pauses for a moment, it was an impressive display of wandless magic, and beyond that. Far more magic than he had ever seen a goblin do. But, at the same time, he also knew better than looking a gift horse in the mouth. "Yes please."

Trimsy pulls open another pocket, and with a truly cacophonous symphony of hammering nails and wood clacking against itself, the newly formed hole is covered in fresh and good wood. Complete with a small trapdoor in a corner and a newly formed ladder down into the basement. "Right, now then." Trimsy fishes into her overalls and produces a quill already wet with ink, then she hands Nikola the clipboard.

It's blank, barring a simple grid on it like one would find on a muggle blueprint. The quill shoots up, pressing its tip against the paper, the feather tickling his nose.

"Just think about what you want and the quill will take care of the rest. Nice and easy, yeah?"

Nikola looks at the paper, then at the wooden foundation, thinking. The first thing that came to his mind was his Old Father's shop, and he smiles. At once the quill gets to work, sketching down shelves, counters, various displays and a large bow window. With several snaps Trimsy opens up all the pockets on her overalls, and as the quill continues to mark down detail, the materials fly out of her pockets. Before it was loud, now it was a madhouse. With every passerby on the street pausing to watch as glass, wood, and stone all charge in, fighting for position with nothing like a queue in sight as a thousand invisible workmen scramble for space. First comes the furniture, large empty shelves that flank the entrance on the interior before stopping at a large wooden counter. To either side are more shelves, bookshelves, merchandise shelves, a nook for smaller items and hooks on the wall for brooks and other assorted oddments. Then a staircase forms in the corner just near the trapdoor, and the second floor forms, a bedroom and bathroom, little more. With a large closet for both clothes and general storage. The roof comes on a few minutes after that, and the building is complete. It sticks out a fair bit, different than the shops around it. Instead of the grey, worn stone of the buildings to either side. Or the grey, flat miserable concrete Nikola had worked in previously. This was gleaming white, with an orange roof of stained tile.

It sticks out, which, hopefully will be to his benefit.

"Right, jobs done." Trimsy says, pushing the quill back into her pocket before she pushes all her snaps closed. "If you're happy with it I'll go ahead and get settled."

Nikola smiles, giddy. "No, no it's perfect. Thank you."

Trimsy smiles back, then jogs inside, she takes a moment to look over the interior before opening the trapdoor and making her way down. The door slamming after her with a bang. Nikola follows her in, somewhat more sedately, his eyes moving from spot to spot, taking in the space that was now truly… his. It was a somewhat magical feeling for the young man, literally and figuratively, and his hands moved over the empty shelves as he passed them by. Making his way to the counter, he sets his trunk down onto it, then snaps it open. And the first thing that comes out, before anything else, is the sign. Handmade by Nikola's mother.

Nikola smiles. She has always supported him, even this far away from home. Faintly, if only faintly. The homesickness fades a little.

—


View: https://i.imgur.com/XMSjzoX.jpeg

With a wave of his staff, the sign is mounted on the hook just outside the door, and Nikola leans against the staff a moment later, smiling up at it as it waves creaking faintly in the breeze. It had been a good two hours of work to get everything in place, even with magic, there were some things that just required a more… gentle touch. But the shelves were now mostly filled with goods from his homeland and knicknacks he had acquired from work. Spare brooms, old tomes, various baubles and antiques. Along with, admittedly, whatever else he had managed to scrounge from home. Wax for brooms, old instruments, folk-wear and bits of candy. It was… admittedly, not as full a stock as he would have liked, but one always had to start somewher-

"Nikola Nikolic's?" a female voice interrupts his thoughts. "Purveyor of Remnants, Rainments, Relics." The voice continues.

Nikola turns, and finds himself looking at a witch. Sharp green eyes shifted from the sign to him, and her red lips curled into a smile, causing rather pronounced laugh lines on her face to become even more apparent. The witch was perhaps in her late twenties or early thirties, it was hard to tell. But she had shockingly red hair, curled and held in place by what appeared to be a wand through the top of it. She was dressed in a rather modern looking yellow suit, black skirt, and heels.

She sizes Nikola up for a few moments, the smile on her face only increasing, before she sticks her right hand forward, bedecked in a black glove. "Good afternoon."

Nikola stares at her for a moment behind his sunglasses, then takes the hand. "Good afternoon, are… you looking to shop?"

Her smile widens. "Oh, goodness me no. I was just wanting to meet the new arrival." She moves a hand to just below her neck, "Morrigan Morgana McMorgan, and yes, you do owe the pleasure." The woman's smile changes to something… different. it is a very practiced smile, drawn upon her face like one would apply makeup. It is perfect, and Nikola had a sudden feeling a lot of things in her life were. "I am of course descended from the Lady Morgana, since you were no doubt curious, but I assure you, any dreams of... foul play are in the distant past, I merely wish to run my shop." The hand then drops, and she tilts her head ever so slightly, causing the red curls to move about her shoulders. "I run a shop just a little down the way."

Nikola smiles. "It is good to meet you, though… I must apologize, I am unfamiliar with this… Morgana, you mentioned."

Morrigan blinks once, then twice. "Morgana? Morgan Le Fay?"

Nikola shakes his head. "My apologies, I am unfamiliar with her. Is she a… famous person?"

"A famous person?" Morrigan repeats, sounding aghast. "You haven't heard of one of the greatest witches who ever lived?"

Nikola shakes his head again. "There is only one great witch, and she lives out in the woods of Eastern Europe. I do not wish to speak of her… she has good ears."

"Well I never," Morrigan replies, the smile now completely gone. She moves her hands to her hips, staring at Nikola with something far more like judgment now. "Well," she closes her eyes and lets out a breath. "One cannot judge someone for a lack of education, and going by your accent I will go ahead and assume you aren't a native."

"I am Serb-"

"Well, I would suggest you do some reading so you can properly learn the culture here." Morrigan continues. "Now, I run the shop at forty-three. Morrigan's Shop of Maladies, I deal in cursed items. I was curious if you were selling the same stock."

Nikola says nothing for several moments, wondering, briefly, how he got himself into this conversation and what would be the easiest way to leave it. But at the same time, he had little desire to make enemies on his first day either. "No," he finally says. "I do not deal in cursed items, I simply sells odds-and-ends. However, I would enjoy perusing your wares if I am allowed?"

"Of course, why wouldn't you be?"

Nikola smiles. "I am but a simple man, unknowledgeable in many things. I may not understand what I'm dealing with."

"I assure you I do not deal in lethal wares."

Nikola shrugs his shoulders. "I never suggested you did."

Morrigan stares at him for several moments, then she casts a glance towards his shop. "I would suggest looking into hiring a security guard. Knockturn can get a little…" She looks back towards him. "Rough at night, especially for newer shops." Then she pushes something into Nikola's hands and walks off, her heels clicking against the walkway.

Nikola stares after her for a moment, then looks down towards his hand.


View: https://i.imgur.com/wSWFzMU.png

It's… a small portrait, depicting Morrigan in a golden frame. She's posed, ruby red lips smiling at the viewer. As his eyes catch hers, the portrait winks, and in golden lettering along the bottom form the words 'Morrigan's Shop of Maladies - Forty Seven A, Knockturn Alley'.

Nikola stares at it, then pockets the picture.

England was… an odd place. But, in any case, today was his first day, even if he only had a short amount of time to have the shop open. It was best, he thought, to get to work.

… While planting runic traps at all the doors and windows.

—

First Day Sales - 0

—

Day 7 - Total Income - 40 Galleons.

Nikola stares down at his ledger with a frown, working it over. Seven days in business, and he had so far made… very little, and the vast majority of that had just been the candies given to him by Grandmother, which had proven to be a small hit with the children until he had run out… and he couldn't exactly ask for more. Even if he could go back, he had no idea where her house was at the moment.

Forty galleons… the taxes alone are going to take that away, let alone the lease for the property. He continues to stare at the figure, it was a very short balance sheet. Namely, a small amount of positives and then a cascading waterfall of negatives about to hit him like a bludger. With a creak, the door to the trapdoor opens, and Trimsy emerges with a yawn. The goblin wasn't wearing her overalls, instead having shifted to a pair of black pants and a shirt stained with ink. She blinks, blearily, taking in the sunlight coming in through the window, before she turns to look at Nikola. "How's business?"

Nikola, temporarily distracted from his ledger, looks at the Goblin. He had seen her just a scant few times since she went down there, and, more than once, he assumed she had died. But she would emerge at any and all hours, carrying papers and books, hurrying out the door with nary a word. She would then usually return several hours later, looking a fair bit more tired and haggard.

"Poorly, no profit." Nikola replies.

Trimsy scratches underneath her chin, looking over his shelves for a moment before shrugging her shoulders. "Well, you're not exactly selling anything interesting by Knockturn's standards."

Nikola quirks a brow. "And what would 'interesting' entail?"

"You've been around haven't ya?" Trimsy asks. "This is Knockturn, it's all used goods or evil looking stuff around here. You need treasure, artifacts, things to get the attention of all those rich types. Right now you're just a junk shop."

Nikola stares at her, saying nothing.

Trimsy waves her hands. "Hey, it's nice junk! Just not the type that Knockturn goes for. So… why not just do what everyone else does?"

"And that would be?"

"Go on an expedition." Trimsy replies. "Burghin is always hiring people to go out and bring him stuff back. You need goods to sell so people actually come in here. Things you can advertise."

"And you have ideas there?"

"Architect, not a curse-breaker." Trimsy replies. "But you've got that… evil look to you."

"Do I now?" Nikola asks, "wouldn't be the first time someone has said that." Nikola pulls off the sunglasses, his white eyes staring up at the ceiling. Expedition… he had a few leads for that actually, from his previous line of work. "I have… some ideas there."

"Yeah?" Trimsy asks curiously.

"Yeah." Nikola replies. "I can't say I'm well travelled, but I do… know a few places I could look into."

—

Time for worldbuilding. You didn't think we'd be staying in England long, did you?

[] [Egypt]
It has the largest organization of Curse-Breakers on the planet for a reason. There are treasures there to be taken, and the government simply wants a small cut of whatever is found. Of course, the curses are an issue.


[] [China]
Nikola has worked with an unspeakable from there in the past, and it would be good to reach out to them again. It is an old society, with old mysteries. Though their government tended to be… obnoxious.


[] [Greece]
Ancient magic that is little understood, and creatures that nobody could tame. There are many artifacts that would look good on a mantle. If one can deal with the dangers that protect them.



[] [Uganda]
An old 'friend' now worked at Uagadou. The African Wizarding school, one of many, but by far the largest. There were many opportunities in Uganda, and wider Africa. Of course, there are… tensions as well.

---

Art courtesy of https://www.artstation.com/bspence