On the empty streets of Diagon Alley, Malfoy and Narcissa walked side by side. Still reeling from what had happened earlier, both wore gloomy expressions, each lost in their own thoughts.
But neither of them seemed in a hurry to return home. Compared to going back, they appeared more inclined to aimlessly wander through Diagon Alley.
Narcissa glanced at her son, who hadn't said a word. She wanted to break the silence but couldn't think of what to say. After a moment of hesitation, she looked around and asked,
"Draco, do you want some ice cream?"
"Who wants that stuff," Malfoy replied irritably.
He cast a quick glance at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour nearby, but his eyes lingered on a different shop—its doors shut tight, not even a sign hanging above it.
Through the spotless window, he could see a neatly dressed House-elf busily arranging items on the shelves inside.
A neatly dressed House-elf... Malfoy let out a dry snort. It was the first time he'd seen something so bizarre.
It was like seeing a troll that had taken a bath and then put on a diaper. Utterly absurd.
And speaking of bizarre House-elves, his thoughts immediately jumped to Dobby—the one who'd betrayed the Malfoy family. His mood, already sour, turned even worse.
"How dull. What kind of shop is this, anyway?"
"No idea," Narcissa replied, shaking her head. "But given the location, I believe it has something to do with the Black family. I remember Mrs. Black mentioning it once."
The "Mrs. Black" she referred to was the infamous portrait in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place—the so-called "screaming witch," and Sirius Black's mother.
"Screaming witch" was the nickname Ginny had given her, since the portrait didn't speak so much as screech loud enough to pierce your eardrums.
"Black..." Malfoy looked disgusted. "You mean that filthy fugitive dog?"
"Probably not," Narcissa said thoughtfully. "The properties have already been divided. I believe this one ended up with Meliflua."
Honestly, even though she was born a Black, Narcissa had paid little attention to family affairs since marrying Lucius. She had no interest in the property distributions.
Despite the Black family's deep heritage, their actual wealth paled in comparison to the Malfoys—especially after one of their ancestors squandered a fortune just to buy an Order of Merlin medal for appearances' sake.
Hearing that it had no relation to Sirius, Draco's expression finally softened a bit.
"Do you want to take a look?" Narcissa asked. "Though it seems the shop hasn't opened yet."
"So what?" Malfoy's face clouded over again. "We're Death Eaters. Since when do we care about that?"
"Don't say things like that, Draco." Narcissa's voice trembled slightly, as if the words had frightened her. "You... you can't think like that. You still have a chance."
"A chance?" Malfoy's frustration boiled over. "Does it matter what I think? Who even cares!"
Without another word, he turned sharply and headed for the shop.
Bang!
He was walking too fast and wasn't paying attention—he walked straight into someone.
"Damn it, you—" He looked up, and the curse caught in his throat. His voice turned cold. "It's you. You've been following us... What, planning to sell us out for credit?"
"If I wanted to, I had countless chances to do so," Snape replied, just as coldly.
"Severus!" Narcissa rushed over. "You—"
But she didn't get the chance to finish. Malfoy, furious, dragged her away. She could only glance back repeatedly, eyes pleading as Snape grew smaller behind them.
Snape didn't say a word. He just stood there, unmoving.
Only after the two disappeared around the corner did he slowly open his hand.
In his palm lay an Extendable Ear—and a torn scrap of parchment.
It had been earlier when he slipped the device into Malfoy's pocket. Judging by their conversation on the way here, Snape could now confirm that both Malfoy and Narcissa had lost part of their memory.
Most likely right after Draco's outburst.
From what they said, it was clear they had no idea their earlier meeting had been witnessed by someone else.
There was no doubt about it—a Memory Charm.
Which also meant the person who'd tracked Malfoy couldn't have been a Death Eater. Successfully casting a Memory Charm on both of them meant whoever it was had overpowered them.
And if it had been a Death Eater, they wouldn't have used a Memory Charm. A Cruciatus Curse would've been more their style—or simply a Stunning Spell to knock them out and drag them to the Dark Lord.
And speaking of Memory Charms...
Snape eyed the Extendable Ear in his hand, his expression shifting subtly.
It just so happened that he knew someone—not only skilled with Memory Charms, but also with very close ties to the Weasley twins who sold Extendable Ears.
More importantly... Snape glanced at the half sheet of parchment, then turned without hesitation and shoved open the shop door behind him.
BANG!
The door slammed into the wall so hard it nearly shattered the nearby window.
Startled, Dobby—who had been busy inside—jumped.
"I'm sorry, sir, but we're not open yet..."
"Get him out here!" Snape said coldly.
"I don't know who you mean," Dobby replied, looking confused.
"Don't make me say it a third time!" Snape stepped forward. "Bring him out. Now. Immediately!"
"Professor, Dobby really doesn't know. Please don't make it hard for him."
Even though he'd expected it, hearing that familiar voice behind him still made Snape's blood pressure spike.
"Kyle!" He spun around, speaking through clenched teeth.
"What was that? I didn't catch it," Kyle said, waving a hand.
At his gesture, Dobby scurried out and quietly shut the door behind him.
Snape flicked his hand, and something seemed to cast a veil over the room.
"This!" He pulled out a piece of parchment and slammed it onto the brand-new counter.
"I found this in Malfoy's pocket. Don't tell me it has nothing to do with you."
On the parchment was a line of text: Niffler's Shop: We find all kinds of valuable treasures.
At the top was a symbol composed of six wands.
"This must've been torn from one of my flyers," Kyle said, glancing at it. "What, Professor Snape, is there something you want to buy? If you don't mind, I could help."
"You think I don't know anything?" Snape stepped closer, pointing at the symbol. "This is your logo, isn't it? You six have this printed on all the trinkets you sell at school."
"I know it was you who followed Malfoy. You're the one who erased his memory—and stuffed this into his pocket."
"And why would I do that?" Kyle spread his hands. "Just gave him a piece of a shop flyer—ripped off, no less."
"To reinforce the memory," Snape sneered. "This has magical traces. When a Memory Charm is cast, you can embed cues that trigger flashbacks when the person sees specific words or images."
Kyle narrowed his eyes.
"What, going to deny it now? Think I wouldn't notice?" Snape looked rather pleased with Kyle's reaction.
"If I'm not mistaken, once your shop officially opens, this logo will be displayed prominently. When Draco sees it, the enchantment will activate, and he'll walk in without even realizing why."
"His behavior just now—was your doing too, wasn't it? Somehow I doubt he's in the mood for shopping."
"What exactly are you trying to achieve?" Snape locked eyes with him.
"Professor, maybe you're overthinking this." Kyle casually tossed the parchment aside. "I admit I followed Malfoy and cast the Memory Charm on them in Knockturn Alley, but I only did it to save them. That's all—no hidden agenda."
"Save Draco?" Snape almost laughed. "Do you take everyone for a fool?"
"I never said that." Kyle shrugged. "And Professor, you know better than I do how terrifying You-Know-Who is. The only way to avoid suspicion is to know nothing."
Snape said nothing, his gaze cold and unwavering.
"And you think the same, don't you?"
Kyle went on, "Madam Narcissa brought Malfoy to you so he could persuade you as your godson. But she misjudged his temperament, and that's why the two of you parted on such bad terms."
"I know, Professor. You wanted to help them find Professor Dumbledore, didn't you?"
"That's none of your concern," Snape said darkly. "You'd better keep this to yourself, or I'll personally make sure you do."
"As if You-Know-Who would believe a word I say," Kyle said with a short laugh. "If Harry and I were standing on either side of him, I bet he'd point his wand at me first without a second thought."
"You give yourself too much credit," Snape sneered.
Kyle chuckled as well.
He really wasn't giving himself too much credit. Voldemort might've wanted to kill Harry—the Boy Who Lived who'd once defeated him—but after the Basilisk incident, things weren't so certain.
Having once controlled the Basilisk, Voldemort had come to see it as a symbol of his identity as Slytherin's heir. Yet, right after his resurrection, the title he valued most had already been snatched away by Kyle.
At the time, Voldemort had nearly exploded on the spot from sheer rage.
It was hard to say which mattered more to him: the heir of Slytherin title, or that one defeat.
But Kyle didn't explain any of that. He simply said calmly, "Professor, I was trying to help you—trying to save the life of your own godson. You don't have to thank me, but is this really how you repay me?"
"Do you think I'd believe that?"
"I think you would," Kyle replied. "And to be blunt, even if you don't—what then? Kill me?"
Snape flushed with fury at Kyle's near-taunting words, and with a sharp flick of his wand, cast a spell.
A silver shield shimmered faintly in front of Kyle, deflecting the spell into a nearby shelf.
The newly installed shelf exploded into pieces.
"That was an ebony shelf, Professor. Don't forget to pay me a hundred and fifty Galleons later," Kyle said coolly.
"Do you even hear yourself?" Snape let out an incredulous laugh. "For a hundred and fifty Galleons, I could fill this entire room with ebony."
"The shelf's one thing, but the Kingvine Pods on it are the real loss." Kyle pointed to the shattered pods on the ground. "Sixteen in total. Ten Galleons each. Charging you one-fifty is already a friendly price."
Snape's temple throbbed.
More than Kyle's attitude, what really got under his skin was the fact that he couldn't do a thing about it. Even though he'd only used a Disarming Charm just now, Kyle's Shield Charm hadn't even flickered. He was completely composed—meaning that even stronger spells might not work on him either.
And then there were Kyle's recent accomplishments to consider.
No matter how much Snape hated to admit it, Kyle's current strength was on par with his own… not that he'd ever admit Kyle was stronger—absolutely not!
"Tell me what your goal is," Snape said, forcing himself to calm down.
"I already told you. I just wanted to help you. That's all," Kyle said.
Snape didn't respond. He took a deep breath, turned, and walked away.
"Don't forget to pay up, Professor," Kyle called after him. "Otherwise, I'll have Kanna come collect. Technically, that shelf was part of her inventory."
Snape's stride faltered. A faint black smoke rose from him, and a wisp of flame seemed to ignite in his greasy hair.
Good thing he wasn't an Obscurial—otherwise, he might've exploded with a full-blown Obscurus on the spot.
Kyle braced himself, expecting Sectumsempra to come flying at any moment. But to his surprise, Snape didn't stop. He didn't say a word—just quickened his pace and yanked the door open.
"That door's not cheap…" Kyle added helpfully. "Damage costs ten Galleons. If the glass breaks, that's another five!"
Snape forcibly held himself back from slamming the door, strode out without a glance back, and disappeared within seconds.
Kyle watched him leave, beaming with satisfaction.
Teasing Snape really was something else. Watching him fume helplessly was more refreshing than downing an entire bottle of Elixir to Induce Euphoria.
It was just a bit risky. One wrong move and he could end up "hands on head." If not for the new Shield Charm he'd learned, he wouldn't have dared try it at all.
Kyle raised his wand and gave it a flick. The destroyed shelf reassembled instantly, and the scattered items floated neatly back into place.
As for the broken Kingvine Pods, a simple Repair Spell wouldn't cut it. So really, Kyle hadn't tried to scam Snape.
Good thing it had been a Disarming Charm. If Snape had used a Blasting Curse instead, the damages—and the cost—would have been much worse. The Kingvine Pods were actually the cheapest items on that shelf.
Kyle glanced again toward the door, flicked his fingers, and the parchment he'd tossed earlier drifted slowly back into his hand.
Looking at it, he fell into a slight daze.
He hadn't expected Snape to come find him—let alone to figure out his plan so quickly.
But then again, there was a reason Snape had managed to stay hidden under Voldemort's nose for so long.
Kyle glanced down at the parchment.
Snape had been right. This thing served as an anchor in Malfoy's memory. As soon as he saw it, fragments of what had been erased would start surfacing in his mind, increasing the chances that he'd come back here.
Kyle had even gone out of his way to make it look like a simple flyer. That way, if someone found it, they'd assume Malfoy just forgot to throw it away—no one would suspect anything unusual.
Who would suspect a flyer?
But now that Snape had taken it, it was useless.
Kyle sighed and ignited it with a flick of flame.
Malfoy had already left Diagon Alley. There was no way to slip a new one into place. But that was fine. Based on his behavior earlier, Malfoy already had a subconscious impression of this place.
It was like cultivating Mandrakes. You couldn't speed up the process with fertilizer—but sooner or later, they'd sprout. You just had to wait a few more days.
Still, Kyle didn't plan on telling Snape any of this—not because he was afraid Snape would ruin it, but because Malfoy might drag him down.
Malfoy had already proven himself to be a top-tier liability. Splitting up was safer for everyone involved—not just Snape, but Malfoy too. It lowered the risk of exposure.
The safest thing was for no one to know anything—not even Kyle himself.
At that moment, Dobby poked his head through the door, looking around cautiously.
"Sir, are you all right?"
"Don't worry, I'm fine," Kyle replied. "Next time someone like that shows up, don't hold back—just toss them out."
"Dobby understands!" the house-elf puffed out his chest, looking ready to leap into action.