Chapter 157: Watson and Prince

In the heart of London at the Leaky Cauldron, the worn wooden door was nudged open from the outside, allowing entrance to two robed gentlemen.

Tom, a fixture at the pub for many years, offered a congenial welcome. Standing amongst the two newcomers, the younger shared chestnut tufts of hair tied back loosely into a ponytail and presented a pale, delicate complexion. The elder, on the other hand, housed a nose steep with a pronounced curve, a waxen yellowish skin tone suggesting persisting illness, and an unforgiving stare, all of which resulted in an off-putting visage. "You're new here, aren't you?" he queried. "How may I address the two of you?"

Flashing a friendly grin, the younger wizard made their formal introductions. "How perceptive! We just arrived from abroad. I'm John Watson and this is my uncle, Tobias Prince. We will be staying for a while and wanted to inquire about your room rates?"

Tom scrutinized these two, an uncle-nephew pair, before nodding with understanding. "Any idea how long you'll be in residence?"

"Our plans are rather fluid," John Watson explained. "We're on a tour, you see, but recent financial constraints have us halting in England to replenish our treasury. My uncle possesses an uncanny talent for potion crafting, so we're hoping to establish connections with the apothecaries in Diagon Alley which will likely extend our stay here by three months at minimum."

Upon absorbing his explanation, Tom sized up the conspicuous "Potion Master Prince", looking at his aloft demeanor and his wise eyes, he indeed felt like looking at a master of his craft. "If it's a minimum of three months you're considering, I can propose an enticing discount on the accommodation. Just bear in mind that to take advantage of this discount, the three months' rent is to be paid upfront, with subsequent payments made monthly till your day of departure."

"For two rooms, it's seven Galleons and four Sickles monthly. With the three-month initial payment, you'll be setting down twenty-one Galleons and twelve Sickles."

John Watson harbored no reservations to the proposed fees. Technically speaking, the Leaky Cauldron fell under the Ministry of Magic's purview, and the pub was supervised by Ministry-appointed innkeepers. Though freedom reigned regarding drink prices, room rates were overseen with firm transparency throughout the wizarding world, barring any potential unscrupulous dealings.

After the duo settled their rent, Tom guided them upstairs to their rooms, numbered 11 and 12 respectively. And with that, "John Watson" and "Tobias Prince" seamlessly transitioned from their identities of Sherlock Forester and Severus Snape into their new roles. These prefabricated identities were carefully created in Cokeworth as Sherlock adamantly refused to use their real names since a Sherlock Forester and Severus Snape already existed in this universe. If they persisted in using their actual names and appearances, they risked raising suspicion throughout the wizarding community.

Assuming new identities proved to be the safer course. The duo's altered visages spared them from resorting to a Polyjuice Potion as its potency was fleeting, requiring consumption every one to three hours to maintain its effect. The task itself was tedious and also impossible without a consistent source of hair-sample infusion to the potion. Instead, Snape had a unique potion in his possession, not to be drunk but utilized like clay to sculpt new facial formations. As for the slight adjustments to hair length and hue, a seldom-used yet powerful hair-growth potion and hair-dye potion were brewed in Snape's cauldron. A single use of these assured lasting transformation. In the quarters of room 12, Snape and Sherlock convened in solace.

"History, as you've so often lectured me, is immutable. So then I wonder, were there a pair of Watson and Prince in our original timeline, that visited the Leaky Cauldron at this time?" Snape busied his gaze on Sherlock, uttering these words in a calm, almost icy, tone. Sherlock, at the moment, was engrossed in a catalogue filled with almost every shop in the Diagon Alley, each entry written with the dexterity of a salesman.

"What I meant by that is, that well-known events are immutable, like someone's death," Sherlock subtly simpered, meeting Snape's gaze. "Whether or not John Watson and Tobias Prince existed, no one knows - it's not significant, unless of course the pair start affecting the course of history. So we needn't be overly tied down. We are simply citizens of this epoch, and this world is not so brittle, as long as we don't contradict known history, there should be no problems."

Snape remained silent, evoking an air of cold indifference. It wasn't until Sherlock had finished familiarizing himself with the collection of Diagon Alley shops that currently existed, that the silence was broken again. Sherlock rose from his seat, "We should go. We need a stable source of income, the galleons in our pockets won't last forever."

Sherlock, when he'd talked to Tom, wasn't just making up a backstory for their new identities. His intentions really were to broker deals with the apothecaries sprinkled across Diagon Alley. Using Snape's excellence in potion-brewing, they hoped to sustain their highwayman's purse.

Snape raised no objections to this. Sherlock had already returned his wand to him. Despite his confusion, he knew changing the past to rescue Lily was his priority, even though he lacked a clear strategy. He could only trail after Sherlock and adopt his plan, hoping to find a gateway back to their timeline.

Success was uncertain, but they had to make an effort. The summer of 1977 found them in the bustling Diagon Alley. Surprisingly, it was not dramatically different from sixteen years in the future. The shop names appeared familiar, but the streets were less cluttered, and the wizards and witches on them exhibited unease and worry. Given the circumstances, their anxiety was a fitting reaction to the plight of the biggest commercial street in the British Wizarding world.

Sherlock and Snape soon stumbled upon a quaint potions shop aptly named 'Bizarre Potions'. Among the three potion shops in Diagon Alley that he was aware of, Sherlock selectively picked this one because it had only recently sprung up, with an operational history of less than five years. It was paramount to have a potioneer in the shop who could whip up standard magical concoctions, but artisans who could brew top-tier potions were genuinely priceless, so they should have no issue establishing business with the owner. Their chosen potion shop was managed by an elegant middle-aged witch. Upon learning of their agenda, she expressed interest. "I'd like to sample your finished potions."

Snape, with a stoic expression, produced a vial of Wit-Sharpening Potion from his pocket. It was a part of his private collection, a potion to enhance a wizard's cognitive abilities. Even though the formula and the ingredients of a Wit-Sharpening Potion were commonplace, it challenged a potion maker's expertise, best reflecting their skill level. As the proprietor of a potions shop, the witch obviously possessed substantial knowledge in potion-making. She uncorked the potion bottle, and by merely discerning its aroma and analyzing its hue, she judged the caliber of its creator. "If every potion you concoct can match the quality of this Wit-Sharpening potion, I'd love to start a long-term cooperation with you, sir. I'll provide all of the necessary ingredients and, after deducing all the expenses, I'm willing to split the profits 50/50. What do you say?"