Borgin and Burkes
Legends of magical, wish-granting beings were found throughout the world. The question was: was there any truth to it?
Trevor doubted it, somehow, but he had to find out. He had to know. He could leave no stone unturned in his quest to find his daughters, and since Teague was now combing over places and people with a fine-tuned comb, Trevor had decided to see if there were any magical items which might help. A genie might seem too good to be true, but there was another item he was in search of as well. He only wished he could seek out that James fellow again because the owner at Dervish and Banges had seemed rather clueless about the other, though he claimed to have a lamp. He might have fallen through on him once, but he could have manipulated things differently this time. He didn't have a desk job to return to, and even if going treasure hunting with the bloke would have taken away from time searching for his daughters, it wouldn't have been without purpose.
Too bad there were rumors James was dead. And too bad the lamp was probably going to end up an overpriced, cursed antique. Too bad genies were unlikely to be more than the river creatures from the Ivory Coast he'd learned about in Care of Magical Creatures growing up. Too bad that even if they did exist, they were likely malevolent beings, and there would be a price to pay for each wish. Still, he had to search. He had to learn. He had to know. He couldn't let the attitude of general pessimism he'd taken to over the past month rule him. He could be cautious, skeptical, but pessimistic? No, that would only serve as a hindrance.
Trevor had had enough things hinder him. A depressed, broken seer who had been more of a drain on money and energy than she had ever been worth. His numerous plots and ploys hadn't worked, and in the end, he had tried to kill her only to have her vanish. So now, she was a wildcard, perhaps alive, perhaps dead. He didn't know, but if SAVIOR or any other group had found her, she was working for the enemy. If anyone else had, she was in the insanity ward, most likely, for her wild stories. Then, of course, there was Winslow's existence, though he hadn't proven a threat thus far. He likely wouldn't. The borders were too secured. Besides, he had his son, and Winslow likely knew he had to tread carefully to stand any chance of getting him back (though, if he were smart, he'd realize his son was as good as gone).
Speaking of, Trevor had left Julian at home tonight with a new book of runes he had bought him the night before when he had met with Teague. He just didn't need a teenager to babysit in a place such as Dervish and Banges. One false move, and the boy would have to go to St. Mungo's for treatment. If that happened, who knew what would end up happening. After all, Winslow was likely keeping an eye out for his son anywhere he could, and Mungo's was a link to the muggle world. It had been too much trouble to relocate it with the frequent bombings and/or attacks in Diagon Alley that he had just left it there. He wished he hadn't now, but that was beside the point.
Without really realizing it, Trevor opened the door to Borgin and Banges. "Old" was the only way he could think to describe the smell that pervaded his senses. Well, now to see if the owner was a pile of crap or not.