Chapter Text
Florence is a Motley Golden Child Reticulated python, a deep night-scaled python with a unique iridescent flare when sunlight comes and it shimmers lime greens, purples and blues. Though magnificent with beauty, the female python is completely oblivious of it. She is probably Harry’s 1st or 2nd favourite snake in the shop.
Reticulated snakes like Florence and anaconda’s, are the longest species of snake in the muggle world, though anyone magical would know otherwise. Harry certainly knows better than most.
She is also a favourite of Harry’s because of her calm and laxed personality, unlike most of the other snakes in this place.
Basil is Harry’s favourite snake and also his most controversial. He can’t exactly choose between Basil and Florence. Being a young snakeling, Basil can be a tad bit pestering, but Harry is biased since the snake is convinced he is their mother. Most controversial, simply put, because Basil happens to be a baby basilisk that, mind you, cannot see. Well, he can, but he has been trained very well to keep his eyes closed at all times. Speaking of eye closing, basilisks are one of the only snake species which have eyelids, but this is not so surprising when you trace back their genes to their dragon relatives, which certainly do have eyelids. Harry Potter would know better than most in that area too.
Selling basilisks is technically illegal, and so is breeding and owning them. But quickly after getting the job here a couple years back, he made the decision to take in Basil from where he found the hatchling in order to keep it hidden from authority.
But it’s not like there’s a high chance of any customer recognising the specie when it merely pokes its small head out from Harry’s sleeves occasionally; it has a distinct look to even its adolescent form, let alone its famous full-grown form.
And it’s not like the law matters much in a place like Knockturn.
And it’s not like the authorities would ever bother checking Knockturn’s shops for the insignificant and rare existence of basilisks. They don’t care, they don’t know, they don’t care that they don’t know about it either.
If having a sign at the front of the shop that welcomes vampires, werewolves, goblins, elves, and other intellectual 'dark beings' is important to the law, and many other Knockturn stores have similar signs, then clearly Knockturn doesn't care about all those laws and shit. It is an admirable trait of Knockturn Alley.
In any case, the store has about 50 snakes for sale and yes, like the professional retail assistant he is, Harry Potter knows all their names, qualities and needs. Though maybe that’s partly because they can just hiss corrections at him and ensure their needs are met. They do take advantage of him as a result, however.
‘I’m hungry. Isn’t it my feeding day?' Priscilla, a red, thin, arm-length corn snake with dark pink blobs, moans quite often. She manages to make him doubt himself and check the calendar more than a couple times a week despite the fact that she only has to eat once almost every two weeks.
Or Liz, a mini baby blue common tree snake who demands to be moisturised with oils just about every waking hour of the day (sure, she has a scale condition which requires moisturisation twice a day, morning and night, but certainly not 11 times a day, Liz! Have mercy!).
Or even Basil, he has to admit, begging to be held 24/7 and pat for half that time. So much so that last holiday Harry decided to buy a couple robes designed mainly for the comfort and company of Basil. It uses a similar concept to Hermione’s extendable pouch and were admittedly, quite expensive being completely and uniquely custom-made but he has yet to regret the decision.
The lady had been very kind to him. She owns a shop a few establishments deeper into the alley, she’s maybe 45 – 50 years old, blind, and a boss warder.
Like many, it took Harry a while to figure out why suspicious people were quite literally thrown out of her shop so suddenly and with little provocation, until he realised, it wasn’t a direct result of the store’s owner but the wards which surrounded the business.
After paying 75 galleons for the custom order, she offered to ward his store for free, and Harry was shocked, but she insisted, saying that it was dangerous for a boy as young as him to be running a shop here in Knockturn, and really, Harry couldn’t afford to refuse the offer.
She explained to him exactly what the wards repelled; simply put, bad intentions, insanity, and immorality (to the point of torture, murder, rape, etc) and at any point after coming into the store, if intentions turn bad, they will literally be expelled from the shop. So there’s that.
Honestly, sometimes he thinks he doesn’t exactly need the warding, being the semi-owner of about 70 snakes (20 hatchlings or disabled snakes not to be sold at the back) all of which are either poisonous, dangerous, and/or magical and/or all of the above. All he really had to do was ask them to death stare the customer into leaving, many of which loved to participate with hissing and showing off fangs.
It’s a bit unfortunate, if you asked Harry, that he couldn’t have a full-time job here, because he’s still at Hogwarts of course, but last year, despite Umbridge’s rein over the school, he did not stay at Hogwarts over the holidays. It disappointed and confused Ron and Hermione even though he’d already explained where he went and how safe it was since the summer of 4th year. He’d started the job in 3rd year.
The simple truth is, Harry Potter had had enough of the Dursley’s. His mother and father had not risked their lives for him to grow up in such an unloving and hopeless household. Plus, a few more days there and he’s sure he would have finally died of starvation, and that is a pretty shitty way for Harry Potter to die, thank you very much.
So he left, packed up his shit and left.
Low and behold, the Knight bus. Low and behold, tripping on shoelaces and almost getting harassed or tortured or killed (he couldn’t tell, shit happens, and it happens fast) in Knockturn Alley by a random guy who was then scared off by a ginormous snake who happened to be the pet of the owner of a snake shop. Low and behold, a studio apartment for him to spend the night in, and then a job offer (parselmouth in the resumé seems to help) and eagerly he takes it.
The owner is a young man, maybe only a few years older than Harry himself, who adores snakes and lives in a studio apartment in Knockturn with a snake shop down on ground floor who also wants to have some time off to travel around the world, which Harry admires more than he should.
Harry takes the job offer, and the young man; Sully something (the man insists to be called Sully and nothing else) proceeds to offer the studio apartment as well. Harry had almost declined the offer by habit, because he couldn’t accept something like that, a boy like him did not deserve it. But he didn’t, out of shock. And then he didn’t because perhaps the Dursley’s had been wrong and maybe, just maybe, he did deserve it.
He remembers standing there like an idiot for a good minute, looking at the place like it was a ballroom. Compared to his cupboard, it was. It wasn’t very organised, nor clean, nor spacious like your average classroom, but big like a Gryffindor dormitory it was.
The two of them got to know each other very well, very soon, and Sully taught him how to run the place within a couple weeks’ time. It wasn’t hard, the man’s organisation, Harry quickly realised, did not simply not exist, it was only applied in debatably more important things like schedules and planners. Even if Harry woke up with amnesia on some summer day, the planners would guide him through literally everything.
The main lesson he was taught, was how to deal with a whole range of customers. To meet all their needs.
Goblins, for example, would want precise answers and there was absolutely no wasting time with them. They did not like being touched, just like most customers in Knockturn, but even more so them. And don’t mess up money with them, it was their ABC’s.
Vampires are really just like wizards, some non-magical, and the main difference is that they are extremely disconnected with wizarding culture and are probably the least likely to know who the bloody hell is Harry Potter, after Elves. The shop stays open until 10pm on Thursdays and Fridays partially to provide accessibility for nocturnal customers and if need be, the shop can provide some potions to satisfy a Vampire’s hunger at cheap costs because they make almost no profit.
Werewolves are similar to vampires in the sense of being quite clueless of wizarding culture but are sometimes a bit more tuned in depending on whether they hide or are open of their lycanthropy. If need be, the store can provide a few vials of Wolfsbane at a low price.
House elves usually come on behalf of their owner and are very easy to handle.
True elves, the ones with beauty and long hair, are actually one of the most frequent and loyal intellectual beings to come into his store as they all love animals and creatures and are the most willing to learn about how to properly take care of them. He trusts them the most with his snakes. They are usually quite tall, androgynous, patient and unfortunately not allowed in places like Diagon-Alley. They wear similar clothes as a specie, white, greens, hints of yellow, occasionally blue, though he’s heard a couple of them complain about Elvish fashion and admire wizards who have a much wider range of clothing. As well as muggles, some mention, muggles apparently have very cool fashion and an even wider range of it. Most wear long unique earrings as it seems that is where they most express themselves. They like compliments and listening to long rambles of their reptile of interest.
Despite the human look and social personalities, true elves are anything but involved with wizarding culture, excluding the interest in fashion.
Not that he gets many customers on your average day. He gets maybe 5 to 6 customers each day and spends most of the time taking care of the snakes: making the store a bit more of a clinic and shelter than a store.
The Serpent’s Den is the name, nothing crazy, straightforward and Harry doesn’t mind it. It is quite a big store mind you, as big as the Weasley’s establishment but wider and the floors are distinctly separated, you would need to go behind the counter and through a door into the backroom and then up some stairs to get into the studio apartment with an ensuite bathroom. All in all, it’s perfect and Harry had permission to organise the entire place because Sully noticed how much he’d been itching to do so. But that was precisely 2 years ago, in the summer of third year. He’s changed the place up quite a bit since then.
He's learnt how to grocery shop and buy items through mail which makes life a ton easier, including fresh or magically preserved mice, rats, rabbits and crickets, etc, for the many reptiles he has to feed.
He’s pretty much an expert with snakes and other similar magical creatures. His marks for potions have somehow been steadily improving ever since he started the job but perhaps understanding venom and herbs and frequently brewing potions for snakes with special needs, can help.
Who is he kidding? It’s because he can fucking see now without those old, limited-prescription glasses.
On most days, The Serpent’s Den opens at 9 am and closes at 5pm, excluding Thursdays and Fridays where the store closes at 10pm. Another exception is the weekend where the store closes at 3pm.
So what more has Harry Potter brought to the place since he arrived?
A few magical lizards he found when going out in the afternoons on weekends. They happen to speak parseltongue, though with a semi-heavy accent, and the only main differences that separate them from snakes beside appearance is that they like to imitate statues, and they are simply less chatty.
A short 30-page pamphlet on how to take care of your average magical snake written by yours truly, (it took him the entirety of the 4th year’s summer to complete, through the cold and dreadful grief of Cedric’s death fresh in his mind) thank you very much.
And now recently, Harry has gone out of his way to bake some soft bread and cookies, recipes he found in the cooking and baking book he stole from the Dursley’s before he left. On the hard-back cover sat the handwritten words “Gift to:” and his mother’s signature in childish writing next to it. So, of course he’d taken it with him.
Anyway, he now offers the cookies and bread at the counter for free, mainly to get opinions of them before possibly selling them and making further profit.
He decided to put up a small poster at the front of the store to promote the free items because free anything can get even the wealthiest’ attention. Since then, he’s gotten a few more customers, one of which came in for a couple seconds, processed the fact that it was a snake shop and proceeded to run out the door with a small yelp. The rest were a bit more sheepish about it, clearly not very interested in the snakes but certainly willing to have free food and small talk with a young boy like him.
Mind you, no one has recognised him yet with his dark sangria-dyed hair, glamoured scar and the removal of his glasses. He’d decided very quickly after leaving the Dursley’s to get his vision completely cured by a professional at Diagon-Alley. It was about 100 Galleons but very much successful and he’d been more than ecstatic to finally say goodbye to the old and cheap pair the school nurse had lent to him 10 years ago.
Now, to the world he is a poor orphan boy living and working at a snake shop over the holidays and disappearing for the school year, called Evan. Just Evan because he’s not that creative, he just knows that his mother’s last name was Evans before Potter and he’s a bit sentimental and obsessed with what could’ve been and—leave him be, thank you very much.