"Excuse me, but would you be Bernard Black?" Willow stood in the middle of a London bookshop.
"Who wants to know?" The man behind the counter looked at her with bloodshot eyes, "And are you going to buy anything?"
"I'm from The Council..."
"The Council? I paid my tax: I have a recite for it and everything."
"No: The Watchers Council."
"What!" Those two words had the same effect as several pints of black coffee, "What do you want?"
"I was told this was a good place to acquire magical books..."
"Don't shout! You think I want everyone to know that?"
"Well what? Oh, the books: by the door."