The dim room grew a little brighter.
Only a little, really. Even with the ceiling light on, it was barely possible to make things out.
But that was enough.
Harry looked around by the light and was fairly certain he had come to the right place.
The room was small, but large cabinets were fitted into three of its walls. They were packed with bottles and jars whose contents looked, at a glance, like things that did not quite meet regulations.
"What can I get you, young customer?" The voice from earlier sounded again, and a tall, slender man slowly emerged from the shadows into the light.
Harry's first impression was that the man resembled Snape.
He wore black robes and gave off all sorts of jumbled smells. There was no telling how long it had been since he had washed his hair, which looked positively greasy.
But unlike Snape's perpetually expressionless, corpse-like face, this man wore a faint smile. He would have been better off not smiling, though: one look at it suggested ill intentions. His gaze was quite deep, too.
Unlike Snape, however, although this man's gaze was also deep, he did not conceal every trace of emotion the way Snape did.
Clearly, at least, this man was no master of Occlumency.
And... well, even setting prejudice aside, this fellow was considerably more handsome than Snape.
If Snape was a slovenly, middle-aged Potions shut-in, the man before him was more like a performance artist obsessed with Potions.
Yes, that was just how shallow this looks-driven world was.
"A friend sent me. I hear you have plenty of connections." Harry spoke in a voice completely different from his usual one. It was piercing and hoarse, far uglier even than his cracking voice.
Harry had altered it with a potion.