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Post by LR Admin on Nov 19, 2014 17:56:46 GMT -8
Summary piece here
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Post by LR Admin on Nov 19, 2014 17:58:49 GMT -8
A/N: Dialogue and some action taken from the original thread between Joe and Summer with few edits.A lone, lean figure sat on the rickety bench before a modest hut made of stone. Smoke rose from it, surely the only sign of life located near this cliff. Twitchy’s head rested in his lap, and John stroked his furry friend as he slept. Near the edge of the cliff, two dragons wrestled, flying high then tumbling to the ground in their play fight. Sometimes, John had to duck to avoid being hit with the tip of one of their long tails, but he didn’t mind. It was amusing at times to see the two larger creatures play, though today, it seemed little less amusing as he found his thoughts drifting to Alisa. Just a few more months and it would be two years since he’d watched her die.
A chattering noise stirred John’s attention from his thoughts. “Hey there,” he said with a sad smile. The ferret stretched then scurried off his lap. The creature sat up on his hind legs and tilted his head at John. “Alright, alright! I’ll feed you.” John reached out to lightly pet the ferret. The ground shook beneath him as he walked toward where he kept food. Seemed a dragon had landed. As John looked behind him and watched the majestic creature take off in a spin, he smiled. These creatures were still untainted. They hadn’t seen the grim evils John had.
A few moments later, John placed some raw meat on Twitchy’s dish. The ferret chattered happily as it began to feed himself. John washed his hands then fixed food for himself. Living was habit despite the loneliness which filled his waking hours. Somehow, the creatures he surrounded himself with made it worth it.
John had just finished eating when the sound of a dragon taking off drew his attention to his right. He saw nothing yet, but something must have spooked the young creature. John shrugged and went to continue working on his newest addition to his hut. Working with wood was calming yet required focus. He needed the calm distraction today.
The first hint toward what was approaching came in the sound of a rock skipping. Then, a single word confirmed suspicions. “Hello?”
John took a moment to contemplate his next move. There was more at risk here than his own life. He thought of this place as a dragon sanctuary. For him to die after its discovery left far more at risk than if it was just him and Twitchy. His wand was in his hut since he never had to worry about that here. It was a long-shot to hope to get there unnoticed, but the voice sounded far enough away. He stood a chance.
However, a string of shouted spells nixed any thought of sneaking to his hut. John ran toward the sound, and his wand flew to him. He stopped behind the dark-haired woman and pointed his wand at her head. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded. John was pleased the dragon ran off at his arrival. It was safer away from this, though little could truly harm the creature.
The woman stiffened at the sound of John’s voice. Her hands came up beside her, though she didn’t drop her wand. “Fighting for my life seems like a pretty good answer,” she retorted while her grip reformed around her wand.
“If you’re not a dragon poacher, then what the hell are you doing on my reserve?”
The woman seemed hesitant to respond, but she finally did. “I’m with the Order of the Phoenix. I was sent to find the owner of this reserve.”
The response made John laugh. He hadn’t heard of that group in years. He hadn’t heard of much from the outside world, really. He preferred it that way. There were enough reminders of the past without it. “The Order of the Phoenix, eh?” he repeated. “Why the hell would they send someone here to find me?” He lowered his wand from the woman’s head and stepped back.
The woman breathed a sigh of relief then turned. She lowered her arms as she did then stared. John made the connection immediately. Evie. It was Evie, yet she seemed to not quite be able to place him. “You—” she began then cleared her throat and tossed her hair back. “You’ve shown up on Lord Voldemort’s radar, and we want to help you. Place you in protection before he has a chance to get to you.”
Well, that would explain it. John leaned against the tree beside him as he spoke. “You of all people should know I’d rather kill Voldemort than join him.” He smirked as the woman looked at him, still searching. “What’s the matter, Evie? Don’t you recognize me?” He rose a brow then held out his arms as he conceded, “Well, I suppose I do look a bit different now.” Nearly two years had graced his face with noticeable scars along with maturity.
Evie continued to stare for a moment before her eyes widened in surprised recognition. Her brows knitted together in confusion. She was obviously conflicted. “John?” she said at last.
John nodded. “In the flesh,” he replied. “I bet you weren’t expecting to find me here—not that any of you cared where I was anyway.” His face became more stern. It was true. The battle had occurred, Alisa had died, and he had vanished, yet they had never looked for him.
Evie shook her head. “John, that’s not true. You know it’s not. What happened to you?” She was studying him, likely taking in the new him.
“I suppose this is just what happens when you’re forced to watch someone you care about die. And you know I’m right. You all left me for dead in that forest.” His face remained unchanged as he spoke.
Evie’s tone grew defensive. “Listen to yourself!” she exclaimed, squaring her shoulders. Her tone relaxed after a moment’s pause. “We didn’t leave you, John,” she said. “We were all attacked. We were young! We were scared! We didn’t know what to do.”
“And in the meantime, Alisa and I were in the hands of Voldemort himself,” John said, his voice holding an evenness that had come from years secluded in bitterness. “I watched her die, Evie! I should have been the one who died that night—not her!” John slammed the tree with his fist.
Evie took a step closer. John didn’t move. “John, you can’t blame yourself for her death. What happened that night… No one could have stopped it.”
John shook his head. He could have stopped it. If he’d just known the right spell, been quicker… When Alisa had needed him most, he hadn’t stepped up for her. She’d been new to everything. He’d at least had all seven years. But what did he have to show for it that night? “Maybe you’re right,” he said, his head lowering. “Maybe you’re right, but now you want me to go back to London to help the Order. There is nothing for me back there. You’re wasting your time.” John turned and began to walk back to his hut.
John thought Evie had given up until a few moments later when she suddenly caught up and moved in front of him. “You’re wrong,” she said. “You have friends in London, people that care about you.”
John kept his eyes forward. He wasn’t ready for this. He didn’t want to leave. It was safe here. Even though it was lonely, he was still safe. The dangers were self-evident and protected against. “That was all in the past. Things have changed. I have changed. Do you really think they’ll want a wreck like me there? And next thing I’m sure will be an offer to become a professor. The Order really needs some new tricks.” John took a step forward, and Evie moved out of the way.
Suddenly, Evie grabbed John’s shoulder then moved back in front of him. “When did you become a coward?” she demanded, looking him directly in the eye. “Hiding away like a hermit, thinking that will solve all your problems!” Her face grew stern. “You can’t change what happens, but you can stop it from happening again.”
Evie’s gasped as John grabbed her robes. “You think I did this for myself?” he exclaimed with a scathing laugh. “I did this for all of you! To protect you from what I have become!” John startled as he realized he was yelling at her. His eyes moved from Evie’s face as he let go and began to walk away at a faster pace. “I’m sorry,” he said as he moved past her. “It’s just better for everyone that I don’t return.”
It was a good while before Evie spoke again. He’d almost made it past the ridge. It was downhill from here. “John, look at yourself,” she plead. “How much longer can you go on living like this? How much longer do you think you can last before something like that happens again and you kill or get killed? Let us help you.”
John swallowed, and his fists balled. “No one can help me now,” he said sullenly. His hut was in full view now. “You might as well just go back and tell them I’m dead.”
“You know me better than that,” Evie protested. Yeah, he did. She clearly hadn’t learned her persistence didn’t always work. “You think I’m just going to give up on you this easily?”
“I suppose you’re right,” John said without conviction. “You were always relentless.” John paused in his step. Evie wouldn’t just leave without him. She would either stay until he gave in or keep coming back. It would place her in danger as the beasts in his sanctuary were not used to her. Perhaps he had no choice but to give in, though he had doubts it would help the way she thought.
“I suppose I’ll go,” he conceded after a few moments of silence. He imagined she was smiling now, but he didn’t look. “Just let me gather a few things.”
John was overwhelmed as he stepped foot inside the small cabin he called home. Alisa’s smiling photo sat on the fireplace. She was holding onto her dress and swinging back and forth with that shy smile she had always seemed to have around him. He missed that smile. He missed her voice. What if being around others made him forget it?
John swallowed hard and forced his mind on the task at hand. He removed the dragon-hide garment and packed it. He wouldn’t need it any longer, but it didn’t matter.
The garment he put on was much too small now, he realized. The pants went down just below his calves, and the shirt itself was ridiculous. He’d grown. He’d grown since that night in so many ways he scarcely recognized himself. John forced his eyes away from his reflection as he shrugged on his tattered Ravenclaw robe and walked to the fireplace to grab Alisa’s picture. That was all he needed. Everything else was replaceable. As he set the picture into his bag, Twitchy climbed onto the table and looked at him curiously. “Come on, buddy,” he said, extending his arm. The ferret scurried ot his shoulder and nuzzled against John’s face.
“You ready?” Evie asked as he emerged from his hut.
John looked up the hill toward the creatures in the sky and replied distantly. “As I’ll ever be.”
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Post by LR Admin on Nov 19, 2014 18:00:04 GMT -8
A/N: Some dialogue taken from the original thread between Joe, Summer, Layni, and me with few edits. Serena has been left out of this scene due to need to bring her in later for sake of storytelling. Also, I had a really long, draining week, so this isn’t as edited as I’d prefer it be.It was strange to have John around again. Not that there was anything wrong with it. It was just strange because of reasons she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Maybe the fact he’d been missing nearly two years and they’d all kind of thought he was dead. Maybe the whole “dragon-trainer” aspect she’d been contemplating since they’d arrived here at Grimmauld Place to await the others. Maybe the fact he seemed so different despite still carrying similar personality treats. Once quiet, always quiet, Evie supposed. They’d stopped by a store at her insistence. The old Hogwarts relic was hardly appropriate. It would gain him pity, and she figured he didn’t want that since he could hardly stand the fuss she was making over what he was wearing. Since they’d arrived, John had been sitting in that same chair. He hadn’t moved. He hadn’t said much but a word or two. That, only if she prompted him. He just seemed lost in his own world. Would it always be that way for him? If it would, he’d be better off with his dragons. But maybe he felt like he didn’t owe it to her to try right this moment. And besides, it was too soon to tell if it would work to re-integrate with society. Evie looked away as she caught herself staring at John again. He wasn’t dense enough to think it was the polo shirt and jeans she’d bought him, Evie knew. After all, there was a ring on her left ring finger to rule out that possibility. He’d know she was worrying over him. Still, he said nothing. Harry was the first other to appear. Ron and Hermione followed. That in and of itself was strange. They rarely made any meetings despite having abandoned schooling for their plight. Had they found something? She gave them a questioning look but merely exchanged Hullos and went back to her own thoughts. She hadn’t really interacted with them when she was in school. They were two years younger and always doing their own thing saving the school. Given her and Casey’s involvement in some goings on their last couple years, you’d think it might have been otherwise. But it hadn’t. Evie sighed and began to examine her nails just before Lupin and Tonks entered. Again, some non-important banter. Lupin may have been her Defense teacher one year, but that was all she had in common. Lupin seemed not to push the issue beyond some basic small talk unless she seemed in a talking mood. Unlike other days, however, Lupin’s small talk was cut short as his eyes fell on John. He and Tonk took their seats, but their eyes kept going to John. Surely, Lupin recognized him. Over the next few minutes, the others made their way in. Fred and George sat on either side of her, saying she was theirs today since Casey wasn’t here yet and, boy, wouldn’t he be jealous. Evie laughed at that. When Casey entered, he walked over to her and gave her a squeeze on her shoulder and a kiss on her cheek before finding his way to a seat. It happened to be the one across from John and next to Molly and Arthur, she noticed. John and Casey exchanged words, but Evie couldn’t hear them. Maybe she should have sat closer to John earlier, but she hadn’t wanted to bother him. “Alright.” Moody’s abrupt voice caused Evie to jump, and her hazel eyes quickly found their way to the battered man. “One dragon trainer,” he said, his magical eye spinning to focus on John. “Check. I trust Evie’s told you why you’re here?” “Not much,” John said, looking up from his folded hands. “I know Voldemort’s looking for me, but I don’t know why.” Moody’s magical eye spun then snapped onto her. It surveyed her judgmentally a moment then went back to John. “That’s the bulk of it. It’s not enough that he has Dementors, giants, and others! Now it seems he wants dragons. He wants dragons, but he has no way to tame them. That’s where you come in.” “What he means, dear,” Molly interjected with a stern look at Moody, “is that someone with your abilities and level of skill in magic would be a help to his cause.” John snorted. “He must have a death wish.” “Oh, I doubt he’d have come himself, but he’d have sent his most valiant crew. Doesn’t matter now as I see it. We’ve got you before he could. But everyone pulls his weight around here. We have forces at the school now. Precautionary measures. And it so happens we have a vacancy that might be up your alley.” John opened his mouth, but Moody interrupted. “Hagrid has left. Won’t bore you with the details of his mission, but long and short is we need someone now. You’re as good as any.” “Dragons are hardly magical creatures!” And that was why she hadn’t told him yet. John wasn’t ready. John was not ready to go back to the school and teach—not when he couldn’t get that night out of his head. And if he had to stay in Hagrid’s hut, he would wake up to a constant reminder. “One of the fiercest you can find!” Moody insisted. “I won’t do it.” John’s words seemed final. “You will if you want our protection.” John snorted. “I’ve been fine so far.” “So far,” Moody repeated gruffly. “So far is not always. He has methods of persuasion.” “And I have dragons and a desire to rip his spine out.” “I’m afraid it’s not that simple, John,” Lupin said. “You-know-who would use an unforgivable in a heartbeat.” Moody nodded in agreement. “Your free will would belong to him.” “Always the optimist, I see, Moody,” John replied. “I suppose you have a point. But the real question is why you want me.” Evie looked down to hide her smile. John was never a stupid one. He knew needing someone to teach was not going to be why. “The same reason he does,” Moody replied. Evie rose a brow and shook her head. “Don’t listen to him, John. We do need your help, but we can’t force you to.” John nodded and took a moment before replying. “Well, if I wasn’t going to help, I wouldn’t be here now. Shall we continue or do you have some smartass still in you, Moody?” His tone was mocking. Moody grunted and sat down. “You’ll get used to him,” Evie said. Similar enough to the impostor John had known but still a lot to take in. “Yes, I know,” John replied. “Now, is there any other reason I’m here that hasn’t been explained to me?” “I know what he has planned,” Casey replied. “I was there when he spoke of it, and I have no doubt you’d hold your own, John, but I couldn’t let that happen to an old friend. If you weren’t placed under the Imperius or captured, you’d have to run. And that’s no way to live life.” John nodded, taking in Casey’s words. Instead of questioning how or why Casey had overheard Voldemort’s plans, John focused where it mattered. “So, what am I supposed to do? Just sit at Hogwarts and teach until he comes and I can smash his face in?” “I doubt you’ll have to wait long,” Casey replied. Evie realized why even if John didn’t know. He’d have to tell. “Until then, yes, you wait. You wait and you teach and protect. Just like a lot of us here. Not as exciting as dragons, I know, but it’s a life.” “When do I start?” “Tomorrow,” Moody replied, leaving no room for debate. “Hagrid is leaving tonight. You can get his lesson plans to help you start then settle in.” “Sounds good to me,” John stated. “So, if we’re done here, I’d like to move into my new accommodations.” “I’ll help,” Casey assured him. “I need to get back soon anyway. Papers to grade or a host of ravenous six years will devour me tomorrow.” John smirked. “You know, all work and no play makes for rough relationships.” Casey didn’t seem to know how to respond to that. “Right, then. Whenever you’re ready.” “Born ready.”
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Post by LR Admin on Nov 19, 2014 18:01:30 GMT -8
An apparition trip and a long-winded conversation with Hagrid later left Casey and John alone in the giant’s former hut. Relieved to have the friendly giant gone, Casey leaned back in the chair he was seated at with a sigh. He was silent a while before he sat up to look at John. “Good to have you back, yeah?”
John quickly looked from the fire to Casey with a tight-lipped smile and a nod. It was a stark contrast to the man who was laughing with Hagrid, but Casey didn’t let it defer him from trying to talk. John had always been a gentler sort—loyal and there when needed but definitely not without his occasional moods.
“Guess dragons are more exciting.”
“Yep,” John replied, his attention back on the waning flames. Or the ferret. Casey couldn’t quite tell from this angle.
Casey scratched his neck and sighed quietly. He looked at the cup in his hand then set it on the table next to him. “I understand why you left,” he said after a few moments had passed by in silence. John glanced at him but said nothing. “Maybe not the exact reasons, but I can’t blame you for wanting to get away from this mess. You were the smart one.”
“Was I?” John’s voice was flat, merely a bored question.
“Well, look at the rest of us—miserable, struggling, tired.”
“And you think I’m not?” There it was. There was the emotion that John had been masking. Anger flashed through John’s eyes as he turned to look at Casey. “I lost Alisa. I lost my best friend, and then none of my other friends came looking for me. Now? I’m useful or am I just so ‘helpless’ I need your protection? And suddenly there comes Evie.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Sure seems like it.”
Casey swallowed and nodded, looking at the ground. “I’m sorry we didn’t look, John.”
John rose a brow then turned with a wave of his hand. It was clear the discussion was closed.
“So, is it the commons or this for you?” Casey asked.
“This, for now.”
Casey looked down. “Alright. Need any help?”
John shook his head.
“I’ll be in the commons, then. Picture of D—” Casey began but stopped as his arm began to burn. A sense of dread filled him at the all too familiar sensation.
“Casey?”
“Dumbledore. ‘Chocolate frogs,’” Casey finished distractedly. “I have to go.” He glanced at his left forearm and took off at a jog for the commons.
~*~*~*~
The snake slithered through the room, splitting the sea of Death Eaters in its path. Some beheld the creature with a sense of awe while others only begrudgingly allowed it passage and only concealed their fear through practice. Casey himself was too far from the creature to pay it more mind than the fact it was there. It was on its way to its master as usual. The red-eyed, noseless being that stood near the weathered podium ahead welcomed it with a hissing sound that caused Casey to involuntarily shudder. No human should be able to do that. Voldemort was hardly more than humanoid, but that was of no consequence. It didn’t make it any less creepy to think of it in that light.
Casey quickly forced his body to behave, though the feeling of prickly bumps beneath his robes was hard to ignore, especially as he brought his arms up to cross them and the cloth brushed against his erect hairs.
“Nagini brings news of Potter,” the almost femininely frail voice uttered, drawing Casey’s gaze to the Dark Lord. “It would seem he and his friends are far from here still in search of items near and dear to our cause.” Noise of disapproval filled the air around him, and Casey joined in with a glance toward Snape not fifty feet away from him. The greasy-haired man was far better trained than he. His attention seemed raptly focused on the Dark Lord and what had just been said. Casey quickly followed suit before anyone could notice.
“I believe it is time for us to put a stop to this.” Roars of approval resounded, and Casey gave one of his own despite the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Goyle, bring forth the prisoner.”
All eyes turned toward the double doors that opened into the former chapel. Goyle walked proudly in, Quinton Pryde levitated and bound behind him. Casey quickly looked away, hoping Quinton didn’t see him. He knew who he was, and he was so much just a kid like himself but hardly tried and true. Casey didn’t want to provide cause for doubt to his hard-earned position.
Quinton’s body thudded against and dust clouded around the four-legged altar as Goyle carelessly ended his levitation spell. The Dark Lord’s gaze was almost gleeful at the obvious discomfort it caused Quinton. Casey had to lower his eyes, for he could not hide the anger and concern that filled them. The mask might be enough to hide his identity, but his vibrant blue eyes were still visible and easily stood out against the black make-up surrounding them.
“Winslow.”
Casey looked up at the sound of his last name, forcing himself to steel himself against what he knew would come. He and Snape had been working hard each evening either could spare time just to keep Voldemort out just enough to not give him away. Casey knew just how close he was to giving it away in this moment, so he focused extra hard.
Voldemort’s spidery finger beckoned him forward, and Casey could feel his heart rate quicken. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Hadn’t it been enough? Hadn’t taking part in the horrific hazings of muggles been enough? Now, he had to do this? Casey wanted reassurance, but he could have none. A look at Snape now would compromise them both. He would not be responsible for that.
Focusing on moving one foot in front of the other was the only way Casey was able to make it up there in any graceful fashion. His legs felt wobbly beneath him, but he squared his shoulders in hopes he would give off the confidence he wanted to exude rather than the nervousness that flowed through his veins. He would have to do this. Whatever Voldemort asked of him, he would have no choice but to obey for sake of the mission whether he liked it or not.
“My lord,” Casey said as he knelt down before the altar and lowered his torso in a bow.
“You’ve had success in the past, have you not?”
“My lord?” Casey looked up momentarily with his eyes.
“In extracting answers. The father…”
Behind the cover of his mask, Casey chewed his lip. It was the only thing he could allow himself. His normal way of putting nerves at bay would be far too telling in this circumstance. “I have… my lord.”
The Dark Lord sneered. “Then, you shall prove your talent with this boy. He is an Order member, a year older than Potter and his friends. Surely he knows more than he has told us.”
Casey nodded once then stood, withdrawing his wand from the holster that held it to his left wrist and forearm. He looked at Quinton, whose blue eyes were trained on him, wide with terror. There was no way he didn’t know who he was, not with the Dark Lord having called him by name, yet if he did know, Casey would have been fooled.
Casey said nothing as he walked toward the head of the altar and looked the boy he had known from school straight in the eye. There was nothing he could do but what he was going to do, but he would try to give the boy reprieve—reprieve that would save him pain for the moment but not in the long term. It would only be a matter of time if he spoke this once before Voldemort tried to find out more about the Order from him. “One chance. One chance is all you’ll get. Tell me the truth now or you’ll suffer. You don’t want that now, do you?”
The Dark Lord would see it as questionable behavior, a sign of weakness to offer even this small olive branch, but Casey had to do it for his own conscience. Hopefully the others would crop it up to his being green.
When Quinton answered with nothing more than a mere whimper, Casey continued. “Tell us where Potter and his friends are.” He took a few steps away, not wanting to receive anything from his own curse.
“I don’t know!”
“Crucio!”
Quinton’s back arched up, and he screamed as his head twisted to the side and his fingers extended almost beyond comfort then flexed as his head twisted back again to the other side. Quinton squirmed, trying to speak but getting nothing out more than “Puh! Puh!”
Casey released the boy from his spell with a flick of his wrist, and Quinton’s body relaxed back, his legs extending back to a more natural position a moment later when he could even dare to move them. Tears covered the boy’s red face. “What’s that?” Casey asked, inclining his head as though trying to hear him better.
“P-please! Ple-ease!”
“Are you ready to tell us?”
Quinton’s lips tightened as he sealed them shut. He said nothing.
What could he do? As much as he might want the Order’s secrets to remain just that, he couldn’t stop and he couldn’t simply recycle the same old spell—not when the Dark Lord was watching. He had to appear to be trying. Casey quickly ran through a mental checklist of spells he knew, dark and otherwise. A cheering charm would be of no help, not even if mixed with a babbling curse. Petrificus Totalus would lead to no results regardless how long he was left in the body bind. He needed something that left Quinton in a fear-inducing situation yet still able to talk.
“Levicorpus!” Casey said and began to approach Quinton’s body as it snapped into an upside down, levitated state. He bent down and looked the other man in the eye. He dared not tell the man he was sorry, but he tried to convey it with his eyes, the only part that Quinton could see at all. “Your blood will eventually go to your head, and you’ll pass out. Die, if I leave you here long enough.”
“Then let it kill me!” Quinton spat.
Casey chuckled softly. “You and I both know our lord will not allow that.” The threat of death was not enough, it seemed. Perhaps something further needed to be added to it. Silently, Casey cast a babbling curse. It might add the sense of desperation he needed to add. Quinton’s nerves were surely already overstimulated. Add to that the sense of needing to gasp for breath while incessantly talking, and perhaps he was onto something. “Now, tell me where Potter and his friends are.”
For a moment, Casey thought his babbling curse hadn’t worked as Quinton attempted to keep his mouth closed and not let a word slip by. However, with each passing moment, Quinton’s face grew redder and redder before, finally, he gasped for air and began prattling on. It wasn’t anything useful at all. In fact, it was rather unintelligible save for a few words.
Once the words began to become noticeably more laborious, Casey uttered, “Lebiacorpus.” Quinton fell back to the table not so gently. Silently, he removed the babbling curse. “That’s only a taste,” he said. “That’s only a taste of what we can do to you. Tell us where Potter and his friends are or you’ll leave me no choice.”
Though still fighting to gain control of his breath, Quinton glared at Casey. Casey simply maintained a calm gaze. He approached Quinton a few moments later. “One thing you need to know is that I don’t make empty threats. Which finger do you need most, hmm? Better…” Casey’s eyes drifted down toward Quinton’s feet. “A toe might keep you better…grounded.” He grimaced behind his mask as he said it. It was a pun. Casey recognized as much, and he had chosen the words for that very fact. He knew Voldemort would not want Quinton to escape anytime soon.
A quick glance to Quinton’s face, and he could tell the younger man was quivering inside, though he was making a damned good attempt not to show it externally. Still, the pallor of Quinton’s face and the perspiration forming along his brow gave his fear away. Quinton’s eyes remained on Casey, though they darted toward his feet as Casey moved to remove his shoe. Then, they looked back to Casey and again to his foot. The thick sock came off, and Quinton shivered. Casey couldn’t be more thankful than he was at that moment for the mask. He didn’t have to react as those watching sniggered around him.
“All it will take is one word,” Casey said as his fingers came to rest on Quinton’s vulnerable pinky toe. “One word to save it. Your friends will never know.”
Though there was fear in Quinton’s eyes, his lips remained in a tight line until the moment Casey’s fingers snapped his toe. The sound was quickly replaced by the loud scream. “Just kill me, dammit! Kill me!”
Casey snorted. “Where’s the fun in that?” he asked, though he hoped even for the Dark Lord this was more than a mere power rush.
“I’ll never tell you where they are,” Quinton declared through gritted teeth. He flinched but did not break his gaze as Casey’s fingers moved to his big toe.
“You will,” Casey said matter-of-factly. “You will if you—”
“His sight.” The thin, high-pitched voice caused Casey to stop mid-jerking motion to look toward the Dark Lord. He tilted his head to convey his question rather than ask it. “This has gone on long enough. End this.”
Casey nodded curtly then moved. “Is that what you value most?” he asked, though he didn’t need an answer. Quinton was visibly trembling now. He looked as though he’d take off running if his bonds allowed it. “Then, life without sight it is…unless you tell us. Which is it?”
Quinton spat then, and though it had little effect on Casey’s shielded face, Casey still flinched away. Quinton chuckled then. “Scared of me?”
Casey said nothing in response. He would not react to goading. It was petty, and it would cause a break in what mattered at the moment. He had to be successful, couldn’t show weakness or pause. He had to continue as though his life depended on it. It very well might.
“Conjunctiva rosea!” Casey declared, watching as Quinton’s eyes became swollen and puffy. The other man struggled against his bonds then, surely wanting to rub them. “This is temporary. It will wear off…in time. If you don’t tell me where Potter is now, however, I can make the effects permanent. Make your choice.”
Silently, Casey conjured a knife-like object and moved it to his wand hand. He stepped closer and lanced part of Quinton’s right eyelid. The man gasped.
“The next stroke won’t be so kind.”
Quinton whimpered just loudly enough Casey could hear it. He was scared but still calling his bluff. Casey brought his left hand up to Quinton’s eye and began to part the swollen eyelid to reveal his reddened blue eyes. Then, a jab was made. Quinton screamed loudly enough Casey’s ears began to ring, but he brushed it off. The discomfort was hardly anything compared to what Quinton was feeling. “Tell me or I’ll take the other.”
“The Burrow! They’re at the Burrow!”
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Post by LR Admin on Nov 19, 2014 18:02:33 GMT -8
The night was aging as Derrin approached through the field which surrounded the Burrow. The stars shone lightly against the night sky, the constellations meaningless. Their dimness meant clouds, and that was all that mattered. It was the moon which caught his eye the longest. It was a waning crescent partly hidden by a dark cloud, something of little importance to most but beneficial to Derrin and his comrades. It gave them a better cloaked approach. The potion they had all taken before their exit from Riddle’s mansion provided them with the vision needed without need for wand light. Still, he held it ready, knowing night vision alone would not protect him should an unexpected foe be standing guard.
Fortunately for him, none was present outside the Burrow’s door. It was deserted, but the sounds of conversation and laughter that echoed from within told him it was quite the opposite inside. And most importantly, the Weasleys were unaware, which meant the troublesome trio expected nothing.
Derrin imagined Fred and George were showing off the newest in their line of pranks to lighten the mood. Given Harry’s mission, surely it was the first laughter the trio had experienced over the past few months. Life on the run tended toward seriousness, he imagined. This laughter would be their last, however.
As Derrin shoved his wand up his right coat sleeve, its tip resting in his palm so it was ready to slide into his hand at a moments’ notice, he imagined Mrs. Weasley’s clock hands beginning to shift toward “mortal peril.” He wondered if any of them noticed or if they were too absorbed in their carryings on to notice. A smirk crossed his lips at the thought. It was the closest to elated as he had dared to feel over the past couple years since joining Voldemort straight out of Durmstrang. Tonight, he would prove himself. Everything was going to plan.
Perhaps he should feel differently. After all, Evie had insisted his sorry ass came along to hang out during the five summers he had between his five and a half years at Hogwarts. The Weasleys had practically been family. But Derrin felt nothing akin to remorse or apprehension. The Weasleys were purebloods, purebloods like him yet still so unlike him. They were blood traitors who supported and hid those at odds with his lord, those who were anything but pure in blood.
Derrin came to a stop before the door, and he swiftly rose his fist to the door. This was it, his shining moment. It made him feel alive in ways he hadn’t felt before. Perhaps it was best to ensure his smile was friendly rather than malevolent. After all, he needed to get inside. But he felt he had a few minutes. The Order was cautious these days about whom they allowed in their homes. He likely had time before the door would open.
Derrin knocked twice in quick succession then let his hand come to rest at his side again. A few moments later, he heard footsteps followed by silence.
“Who is it?” a male voice demanded.
It took Derrin a moment to realize who it was, but as he spoke, he forced his lips into a smile and used his friendliest tone. “Arthur, it’s Derrin!”
“Derrin?” the voice questioned. There was silence. “I’m afraid I can’t let anyone in. Molly is terribly ill and not up for visitors.”
It was an excuse, a reason not to open the door, but Derrin had come too far to just give up. “I came to see Fred. Is he home? Maybe he can come outside.”
A pause during which Derrin heard the shuffling sound of feet, then, “I’m sorry, Derrin, but now is not a good time.”
“Then, you leave me no choice.” Derrin’s voice was darker now, and his face was an unreadable emotion. He wasn’t certain how to feel now. He had hoped to see the look on the Weasleys’ face as he turned traitor. Now, his fun was ruined. Well then. So be it.
“Excuse me?”
“I was hoping to make this peaceful, Arthur. For your family’s sake. It’s not you we want, after all.” Derrin let his wand slide into his hand and he fired up two red sparks, a signal for the others to surround the building. He would have to storm the home now. There would be no confirmation first. No, there would be only violence.
Silently, Derrin counted to five then used Confringo. The door and part of the front wall blasted away. Derrin backed away coughing then stepped through the dust and debris only to find he could see no one. Arthur had moved.
Momentarily, Derrin contemplated heading upstairs but thought better of it and instead headed closer to the other lights. If the Weasleys were to go anywhere in a situation such as this, it would be below or toward the center of the house. Upstairs would only trap them and leave no option but apparating as a get-away plan. No, the Weasleys were smarter than that.
“Tergeo,” Derrin heard someone say. The dust siphoned away but left no one to be seen. At least, no one in the center of them as one would expect if the clan had formed a defensive position.
Derrin looked at the others. They were wasting valuable time just standing there. “Upstairs,” he hissed, pointing to a couple of his fellow Death Eaters. Derrin walked over to another two. “Help me find a hidden entrance,” he commanded. “You two, look for any sign of them.”
He heard the muttered use of, “Homenum Revelio.” Good. At least they were listening. Derrin set his mind toward searching for a hidden exit. It was possible they had all disapparated and the blasting spell had covered their escape, but he doubted it. It would be easier for all to head toward a hidden room than to manage to group off and safely focus on apparating away.
Only, the sight of a frightened red-head drew his attention. The frown on Arthur’s lips was meant to look confident to match the determination in his brown eyes, but it looked anything but as his lip quivered. Derrin smirked and began to raise his wand. “Tell me, Arthur. Where are they hiding?” He was met with silence. “Tell me, and your family will be safe.”
Arthur clamped his lips together and shook his head once in defiance.
“I figured you wouldn’t tell me,” Derrin admitted. “It’s a bit foolish if you ask me. You and your family could be safe in each other’s arms in but a few moments. Instead, they may suffer because of you. How does that make you feel?”
“Get on with it, Derrin! I will tell you nothing. They’re long gone by now!”
“No one’s here,” a sultry, sweet, and altogether too high-pitched female voice said.
Derrin kept his eyes on Arthur. “Then, we get out,” Derrin managed calmly. He felt dread now, dread at how the Dark Lord would react to his failure. He had only one hope: to bring Arthur Weasley with them. He would be their bargaining chip, of far more value to the majority of the Order than the creature Winslow had tormented earlier in the evening.
“Don’t fight it,” he commanded before he and Arthur vanished in a cloud of black smoke.
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Post by LR Admin on Nov 19, 2014 18:03:41 GMT -8
Frankly, John was surprised to be back here so soon. He’d been walking around campus in the dark of night, trying to process the flurry of events that had formed his day so he could hopefully manage to get some sleep. However, it seemed that life had other plans. He couldn’t say he liked finding himself here again, and he had contemplated ignoring the summons. John knew himself better than that, however, so here he was.
Thankfully, Evie had arrived around the same time he had, and John was surprised to find her alone but said nothing of it even as he entered and saw Casey over near the window. John sat down away from the far end of the table where Mrs. Weasley was seated sobbing with her brood around her—most of it, that was. He was here to find out what was going on. That didn’t entail comforting someone he barely knew last he checked and certainly did not involve finding out why Casey looked so broody even if he did want to know what had caused him to run off so quickly earlier. That simply meant he would observe. For now.
John glanced over toward Casey again as Evie ran over to him and threw her arms around him. There was something strange about the motion. It seemed desperate, relieved even. What had they managed to get in the middle of now? Old habits died hard, perhaps? They’d always been in some sort of trouble in school. John rolled his eyes. How was it that they had had a target on their backs for two years yet still had each other while he had no one? His closest friend…Alisa. John shook the thought away. Bitterness wasn’t going to help him—not if he was going to try to live amongst these old friends. He had to overcome that, adapt. He could do it, but it would take some time.
Thump-clack, thump-clack…
Moody was here. John didn’t have to look to recognize the sound of a boot followed by a pegged leg. Everyone seemed to look at him—even Mrs. Weasley. Her face looked red and poofy. How long had she been sobbing like that? And where was her husband?
That was why they were here, wasn’t it? Her husband. Oh boy.
Moody paused by Mrs. Weasley after a few moments more of walking to the far end of the table, and the two shared a glance before Moody walked the rest of the way to what appeared to be his spot. He cleared his throat and looked around the room, his magical eye whirring.
Probably stopping on Casey and Evie, John thought. They were still talking—rather, Evie was talking. Casey led her toward the table, regardless, and she quieted. Only then did Moody resume.
“Arthur has been taken,” Moody stated. “A group of Death Eaters stormed their home, led by a certain Derrin…”
“White,” Evie breathed. It was barely loud enough for John to hear. He wondered if it was power of suggestion. He’d seen the bloke around school.
“Derrin said he wanted to visit Fred,” Harry piped up. John had to admit he was surprised to see him there. Somehow he had missed the jet black hair in the sea of red. “Mr. Weasley didn’t let him in, but they forced in.”
“They were looking for us,” Hermione interjected.
John rose a brow. Weren’t those two still in school? He noticed Ron then. Well, they had always been mixed up in the he-who-must-not-be-named stuff, too. What were they up to that they were out of school and being searched for?
“And they took him,” Hermione went on to say. “He hid us all, but he couldn’t get out.”
“Did you know about this?” Was that Lupin? Merlin. Had everyone who ever set foot in that castle been involved in all this in some capacity? John rubbed his temple as he looked at Casey, the person Lupin was evidently questioning.
Casey was hesitating. That said everything yet left many questions. After a few moments, he nodded slowly. “I did, but I didn’t have time to warn anyone. There was a meeting. One moment, I’m…I’m interrogating Quinton. The next, Quinton’s letting them know Harry’s at the Burrow and Vol-Voldemort’s organizing a group.”
“They have Quinton?” John didn’t recognize the young man who asked this. He looked about his and Casey’s age, familiar yet unknown to him.
“Yes. They must have taken him this afternoon.”
“We have to get him back.” It was the young man in the black blazer again.
“No kidding,” Casey replied. “The sooner, the better. Who knows what more he’ll reveal if we don’t hurry.”
“Well, you know where they’re keeping him. Let’s go—now!”
“Now?” Moody snorted quietly. “If we go now, we’ll put the both of them at more risk than necessary and risk blowing Winslow and Snape’s covers. We have to plan, and we have to rest. Do you know where he’d keep them, boy?”
Casey shook his head. “The rickety place he holds some meetings? The Malfoys? Who knows?”
“I know where he’d keep them,” Snape drawled. He paused as everyone’s eyes came to rest on him. “It won’t be easy to get into, though it’s not… impossible.”
“Then tell us how!” Blazer boy demanded.
John thought he was a risk to have here at this moment. It seemed Moody felt the same. “Go home, Darkhart,” Moody barked. He held up a finger when blazer boy opened his mouth. “I don’t want to hear any more from you. Go home. We won’t be needing you for this.”
John was rather surprised Moody wasn’t given any flack from the kid, who instead rushed from the room.
“And I think it’s better the Weasleys and Potter leave as well,” Moody added.
Good call, John thought. Potter had always been a bit impulsive as well, and Mr. Weasley’s abduction put the situation a little too close to home.
“You can stay in the rooms upstairs for your own safety. I’m sure Kreacher’s kept the place up well enough. We’ll send someone for what remains of your belongings later.”
Fred and George helped Mrs. Weasley from her chair while Ron gave Moody what could be described as nothing other than the stink eye. Hermione dragged him away. Shuffling his feet was the only noticeable protest Ron gave to being ushered.
Once everyone who was asked to leave had left, Moody ensured the Imperturbable Charm was securely in place. “Tell us more, Snape.”
“There are tunnels beneath muggle London,” he said. “Aside from a few rats, no one finds this location. It is not without its enchantments and curses, of course. You-know-who holds no reservations against harming people to keep his secrets safe. It’s likely Quinton and Arthur are being held there. The location itself you must find on your own. I will not put my cover further at risk than this.”
Moody nodded. “We need volunteers,” he said.
John watched as Lupin spoke with the woman beside him then volunteered them both for the quest. A few others promptly joined in afterward, yet Moody did not seem contented. His magical eye snapped on John, who wished he was invisible at the moment. He may have agreed to help, but this? Risking himself for a stranger, for someone who likely would not do the same for him? Still, John was nothing if not noble.
“Make that six.”
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