Chapter 1: More Than She Bargained For

"Fifty."

The Merman raised his eyebrow at the dark woman in front of him. The rest of his handsome face was, however, stubbornly unmoved. He knew she was trying it on.

"Seventy-five. That's my final offer."

The Merman shook his head with annoyance, his blond hair billowing back and forth through the clear blue waters of the Aegean Sea. "Do you know how hard it is to swim with gold? It will take me at least five trips if there's as much down there as you say there is!"

The woman sighed through her nose, causing bubbles to rise up and obscure her face briefly. Once they had cleared, her lips twisted into a defeated smile. They had played this game many times, and bartering was part and parcel of negotiations. For the Merpeople, it was part of their culture.

"OK, OK, a hundred. But you're killing me here; it's going to take me a day to find that many."

"You're a clever witch," he replied, folding his arms across his muscular chest. "I'm sure you'll manage."

The woman let out a laugh at this, and held out her hand. The Merman clapped his hand in hers with a tight grip, sending a shock wave through the azure waters.

"That's quite an oyster habit you have, Neptus," she said, shaking his hand firmly.

"Almost as bad as your gold habit, Rosetta." The Merman smiled in return and his perfect teeth glinted white through the dappled refracted sunlight.

"You know the drill." She fished out a clear red stone from her pocket, which was attached to a length of dark cord. "When this glows, it's dinner time."

Neptus took the gem from her and placed it around his neck. "Be quick. I'm hungry." And with one sharp flick of his tale, the Merman shot off in a cloud of bubbles back to the depths of the ocean. Rosetta watched him disappear all the way into the inky blue abyss, before kicking her legs sharply and swimming back to the surface.

oOo

Much like dock weed is to stinging nettles, the antidote to Gillyweed is another plant which is often found growing in close proximity. Rumex Spiritum, or more commonly known as Sea-Air, when ingested can counteract the effects of Gillyweed in mere seconds. Drowning out of the water from ingesting Gillyweed was a very real danger for those who did not have to foresight to acquire the antidote before submerging and so Rosetta always made sure she had several leaves on her at any one time.

Rosetta chewed on the bitter-tasting leaf and swallowed, her face twisting into a grimace as she gasped for breath, waiting for the Sea-Air to kick in. Within moments she could feel the gill-like slits on the side of her neck heal, her chest expanding as with one almighty inhalation the cool air once more passed through her lungs. She breathed deeply for a moment, enjoying the twin sensations of fresh air and the warmth of the Mediterranean sun on her damp skin.

After a quick drying spell, she pocketed her wand and trudged up the sloping sand dunes towards a flat, squarish rock underneath which she'd hidden her knapsack. Slinging it over her back, she then headed for the cliff, looking for the ideal spot to create a Portkey.

Travelling by Portkey was quite a fiddly process to the inexperienced, but Rosetta was so used to travelling back and forth between mainland Europe and the UK that she could practically cast the charm to bewitch inanimate objects in her sleep. Unregistered Portkeys were still frowned upon however, so much thought had to go into locations and timings.

Luckily, the Siren's Cove was the perfect place to travel from. After the Muggles began hunting Merpeople in the late 1800s, the Greek Ministry of Magic enchanted the cove for protection. Even with the booming Muggle tourist trade the site remained Muggle-free and, for the most part, wizard-free too. The Merpeople rarely interacted with the wizarding world, given they were looked upon as inferior but intelligent beings, in the same way that Muggles view dolphins. It had taken some time for Rosetta to gain their trust in order to trade.

A sun-bleached branch, lying contorted on the sand like a dusty old bone, was the perfect Portkey. It took a few minutes for Rosetta to prepare and cast the charm. Then, when she was satisfied, she took a breath and latched on to the branch, bracing herself for the sharp pull behind the navel as the world twisted and spun around her.

She arrived, stumbling, in a bracken filled heath on the outskirts of Hogsmeade Village seconds later. The fresh Highland air was cold compared to the balmy Mediterranean and she could feel her skin puckering into gooseflesh underneath the thin leather of her tabard and trousers. She quickly removed a dark cloak from her knapsack and wrapped it around her, as much to shield herself from the stiff breeze as to conceal her face. Trading on the outskirts of the wizarding world meant that she usually revelled in anonymity, so any necessary interaction in wizarding society made her feel self-conscious. Especially in a predominantly-white area such as Hogsmeade. And if the whispers and rumours were to be believed, there were troubling times ahead. All the more reason for her to keep a low profile.

But the trip to Hogsmeade was, unfortunately, necessary. The Sirens' taste for the finest freshwater oysters meant that Scotland was the only place to harvest the delicacy, and the Merpeople would not trade in anything less. Rosetta was no fisherwoman, but fortunately she knew someone who could help her out.

Rosetta pulled her cloak tighter around her as she picked her way across the scrubland and down a narrow dirt track that led into Hogsmeade, and to her ultimate destination: the Hog's Head.

oOo

The dusty old pub looked much like it always did; sparse and dingy, with dull light struggling to get through grime-leaden windows. Other than the tatty hog's head on a plaque above the hearth and the slightly grubby portrait of landlord's younger sister, there was no décor to speak of.

The few patrons that were scattered about the place did not look up from their flagons as Rosetta quietly shut the door behind her and headed for the bar. As she waited to be served, she noted idly that the pub reflected its clientele perfectly: unkempt, antisocial and unwelcoming.

She did not have to wait long before the landlord emerged from the ragged curtain that separated the bar from the living quarters. Aberforth's mouth twitched with recognition. It was the closest she would get to a smile.

"The wanderer returns." His voice was brusque.

"I like what you've done with the place," Rosetta replied drily.

Aberforth snorted and strode forwards, opening up the entry hatch and motioning for her to come through.

Wordlessly, Rosetta complied, slinking past the grizzled landlord into the back room. A quick flick of Aberforth's hand slammed and locked the old iron till. He glared around at his clientele suspiciously before following her through the threadbare curtain.

Neither of them noticed the portrait of Ariana Dumbledore, who'd been keenly watching their every move before turning and sprinting out of the painting with purpose.

Rosetta sat on a spindle-legged chair next to a worn table as Aberforth poured them each a large shot of Firewhiskey in old, chipped glasses.

"You have the gold?" he asked, handing one to Rosetta and sitting opposite.

Rosetta reached inside her cloak and pulled out a small pouch, sliding it silently across the table. She took a swig of her Firewhiskey as Aberforth grabbed the pouch stuck a grimy-nailed finger inside, quickly calculating the contents. He gave a grunt of satisfaction and tucked the pouch inside his breast pocket.

"You still don't trust me, eh?" Her dark eyes glittered over the rim of her glass.

"Business is business. Nothin' personal." Aberforth drained his glass. "The merchandise is in the sink."

Rosetta crossed the kitchen and peered into the sink. Dozens of fat, grey oysters lay inside an old tin bucket covered with water. She started to count them out on the sideboard.

"Looks like you don't trust me, either," Aberforth grumbled.

Rosetta turned and gave him a sarcastic smile. "Business is business. Nothing personal."

oOo

The sky had already started to darken when Rosetta left the Hog's Head. She drew her cloak around her as she looked furtively left and right, checking that the coast was clear before heading back up the road that led out of Hogsmeade. She had cast a perfunctory invisibility spell on the bucket so as to not arouse suspicion from patrons or meddling members of the public. She allowed herself a brief feeling of accomplishment. All she needed to do was catch another Portkey from the edge of Hogsmeade and deliver the goods, and she reckoned she'd have quadrupled her gold by nightfall. Not bad for a day's work.

She turned right, heading for the dirt track that took her to the edge of Hogsmeade village. But her path was blocked by a tall man stepping out in front of her, and she dropped her precious cargo with a loud clatter. Oysters spilled out on to the cobbled streets. Fish-smelling water splashed on her boots as the man blustered with apologies. She looked up with a scowl, about to hex the fool who had cost her a day's work, but her face fell into an expression of shocked recognition instead.

"Ah, Rosetta Stone."

Albus Dumbledore smiled down serenely at the young woman in front of him.

It took just a second for shock to transform into suspicion.

"Professor Dumbledore. What a coincidence, seeing you here. And it's not even term-time yet."

Albus continued to smile. "I have been hoping to run into you for some time. How are you keeping? Are you still working for Gringotts?"

Rosetta felt a prickle of annoyance at the well-meaning intrusion. She didn't dislike Dumbledore; he had always been good to her and had given her a glowing reference after leaving Hogwarts. It was just that she was highly attuned to the ulterior motives of others and something smelled decidedly fishy, and it wasn't just her now-sodden boots.

"I left Gringotts four years ago. Decided the corporate life wasn't for me." Rosetta withdrew her wand as she spoke, returning the now-visible spilled oysters to the bucket and casting a cleansing spell on her boots. The oysters thankfully didn't look damaged; perhaps the day wasn't a write-off after all.

"I see."

Dumbledore watched her clean up idly. With annoyance, Rosetta realised she must look like a lowly fisherwoman off to market. She could almost feel him judging her.

"Well, it's been nice seeing you, but I really must go."

Rosetta hurriedly bent to pick up her bucket, but Dumbledore laid a gentle hand on her arm.

"So soon? There is a lot I would like to talk to you about."

I knew it, Rosetta thought to herself. He'd orchestrated this accidental meeting. But how did he know I'd be here? Has he been spying on me?

Taking her silence for compliance, the old man continued. "Please. If you could spare an old man an hour of your time, then I'll let you be on your way. I wouldn't ask if it were not important."

Rosetta inhaled sharply through her nose and looked up at her former Headteacher. She had no doubt what he had to say was important, but part of her didn't want to hear it. She lived a simpler life now, on the edge of the magical world. Her gut told her she should just cut her losses and head back to Greece to finish the deal. But he had clearly gone to a lot of trouble to speak to her and the earnest, pleading look on the old man's face was too much to bare.

Rosetta let out a weary sigh. "OK. OK. One hour. But then I'm gone."

Dumbledore's face lit up like a small child's at Christmas. "Wonderful."

He led her through the cobbled streets towards Hogwarts castle, chatting idly about Quidditch. But Rosetta couldn't shake the feeling that she was a fish on a hook which had swallowed the bait.

One hour, she repeated to herself. That's all.