The bell over the door was rusted and did not clang. Smelling of burnt potion and something acridly sour, the shop seemed empty, other than a wizened, nearly toothless old man behind a tall wooden countertop. The man looked extremely surprised to see Draco, though his wide eyes could have been attributed to Draco’s appearance. For his bloodshot eyes framed by purple bruising, his hair that stuck up in all directions, and the linen shirt still soaked through with sweat didn’t give him a very debonair, or rather, trustworthy look. 