Raphael's eyes narrowed slightly, not at her, but at what came out of her mouth. He'd never thought Splitters a dishonest man; he'd never paid Raphael a sickle less than what Raphael thought an item was worth, nor did he sell him anything for ridiculous prices. He might have refuted her if only because he didn't want to admit he'd been wrong about the man, but he couldn't—not when Splitters stood there quietly, looking back and forth between him and Yaxley with a look of uncertainty on his face, as if he wasn't sure whether or not it would be smart to say whatever was on his mind.

"The wand you broke in the shipwreck?" he questioned. His instinctively wanted to chastise her for not asking him for the money for a new wand; they'd gone through the shipwreck together and he hated to think she was pawning off objects to be able to afford to do magic. It seemed so undignified—once again an image that didn't align with his own image of Yaxley.

"What did he promise you?" he asked, his gaze sliding from Yaxley to Splitters and then back to Yaxley.

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