Post by J.O.N ((Dragonwing)) on Oct 4, 2009 4:51:31 GMT -5
((Disclaimer: I don't own the characters in this or the setting, J.K Rowling does and who ever else.))
Rain licked at the windows and turned any image in them to a blurry mess, over head the thunderstorm continued, leaving the lonely cabin to seemingly squat in fear on the hill top. Lightning flashed briefly to illuminate the area and a figure could be seen momentarily at a window, looking out. As the light died and the booming sound washed over the building the figure turned from the window and back to a dying fire. In a heavy oak chair cushioned by soft pillows sat a ratty man, his clothes unlike those of a homeless bum. He sat with hand in front of him fidgeting constantly, his weasel like eyes darting all around the room. Finally he looked at the tall imposing dark figure beside the fire.
“What if they followed me?” He said in a surprisingly cultured voice.
The tall figure turned away from the fire, it’s hood hiding the features of it’s face, but the way the robes clung to its chest and the long black hair flowing out from it suggested it was feminine, its voice confirmed it.
“You said it yourself that this place was secure, did you not?” The woman replied, her voice dark and alluring.
“Well…Yes, but they were Aurors back there, that means the ministry is coming.” The fidgeting man groaned as he began to get up.
“Everte Statum,” the female figure said, the blast from he wand sent the man backwards in to his chair which skidded backwards a few inches. Coughing, the man tried to get back up but slumped into the chair.
“Now, I hope you won’t be leaving too soon, Somersby, as I have one more job for you to do before I can let you leave.” The female figure said with contempt.
Still coughing, Somersby looked up at her, hatred now clear in his eyes, he sputtered out the words, “damn you! Damn you, you bitch.” His hand beginning to slowly make its way to his wand.
“Such language, and here I was thinking you were the man for the job. I suppose I will have to find someone else who wants oh, I don’t know, twenty Galleons.” The witch said a smile just visible under hood.
Somersby’s hand hesitated and stopped, his face began to relax and slowly he sat back up in the chair. Intrigued, he asked, “twenty you say? What is it you wanted?”
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The rain continued to fall hard outside, and three figures stood at the path leading up to the house. The wind left the rusty gate swinging back and forth, screeching as it went, and the lightning and thunder had died down now. The path itself twisted upwards around trees and discarded rocks, a daunting climb that suggested bad things. The figures themselves all wore robes except one who wore a pinstriped suit with a bowler’s hat, they held their wands out and a soft glowing light was emitted from each.
“Great, so subtle and here I was thinking this one was supposed to have brains,” the one with the bowler’s hat said, smiling.
One of the other figures, this one had long hair tied up in a ponytail, turned to the man with the bowler hat and gave him a half smile.
“Brains or not, he’s our man. However, this raises the question on why our necromancer wants him...” He said, trailing off thoughtfully as he kicked at the gate with his foot. He began up the path and the other two fell in behind him.
“I don’t know, all we have to go on is that some villagers reported un-dead folks walking about while back and then this guy shows up with Inferi... Maybe Somersby’s just lost it, decided con-jobs and thieving isn’t good enough for him.” The third man whispered as they got closer.
“Somersby isn’t the sort to cause too much trouble, besides Inferi would get him into Azkaban, hardly something he would risk without incentive, no, I believe someone's paying him and providing him the Inferi.” The ponytail man replied just as quietly.
“I don’t like it, Williamson, this is real dark, like You-Know-Who dark.” The third man said to the man with the ponytail, shivering slightly.
“Voldemort is dead as dead can be, he ain’t coming back, Yaxely,” Williamson said as they stopped just outside.
“Will you two shut it!? We don’t need him warned we’re right outside his door.” The bowler hat man whispered furiously.
“Sorry, Roland” Yaxley said with a sort of downward look.
Williamson just grinned and took up a position on the other side of the door as Roland placed his wand at the doorknob and whispered, “Alohomora!”
A brief light appeared at the end of Roland’s wand and the door swung open slowly. Williamson quickly dashed in to the room wand ready, it was dark and the fire had gone out. Behind him entered Yaxley and Roland slowly both lighting up the small cabin with their wands. It was small, three rooms at best; the one they had entered into was obviously the sitting room - it contained the fireplace, a small table and two large oak chairs.
The room had two other doors, one led to what appeared to be a bedroom and the other to the kitchen. Wordlessly, Williamson gave a Yaxely and Roland a slight nod and they split up - Yaxely taking the kitchen, Roland the bedroom.
Williamson began to look around the sitting room; he made his way to the fireplace to see how long ago it since it was last used. He did not notice the figure rising up from behind one of the seats.
“Cale! Look out!” Roland yelled at Cale Williamson, who promptly turned and leapt out of the way of a random spell that missed him by a hair's length.
The spell caused one of the chairs to explode into wooden splinters and the air filled with heavy silence. Williamson rolled to his feet and raised his wand, casting an Expelliarmus at his attacker.
The jet of red light hit the enemy’s wand and sent it wind-milling away causing the figure to dive to catch it. Suddenly, another curse hit him sending him spinning backwards into the other chair, both man and chair rolled backwards a further few metres. A groan punctured the silence and the man trapped by the chair struggled slightly. Williamson struggled to his feet, keeping his eyes trained on his trapped attacker encase he tried to flee.
“Somersby, should have known you would try a stunt like that.” Williamson growled as he picked up Somersby wand and pocketed it.
The man just groaned in reply as Roland went over and with a quick spell tied him up with a magical rope. Yaxely pulled the chair off him and set it right.
“So do we question him here? Or do we take him back to the department?” Yaxely asked and sat on the chair he had just fixed.
“I say we give this place a quick poke around and then head back with him, this place gives me the willies.” Roland said, dragging Somersby to the wall. Then he made his way back to the bedroom, “I saw a book in there on the bed, I’ll just grab it.”
“WAIT! Matt! NO!” Williamson roared leaping forward.
But suddenly a bright green light filled the room and Roland fell backwards, his corpse hitting the hard floor with a thump. Yaxely stared in shock, suddenly leaping to his feet rushing to Roland’s side. He checked his pulse, but then turned to Williamson shaking his head.
“H-h... He’s gone…” Was all he could manage.
Williamson stared at the book on the bed, it had been a trap, this whole thing had been a set-up.
But by who… And why?
Rain licked at the windows and turned any image in them to a blurry mess, over head the thunderstorm continued, leaving the lonely cabin to seemingly squat in fear on the hill top. Lightning flashed briefly to illuminate the area and a figure could be seen momentarily at a window, looking out. As the light died and the booming sound washed over the building the figure turned from the window and back to a dying fire. In a heavy oak chair cushioned by soft pillows sat a ratty man, his clothes unlike those of a homeless bum. He sat with hand in front of him fidgeting constantly, his weasel like eyes darting all around the room. Finally he looked at the tall imposing dark figure beside the fire.
“What if they followed me?” He said in a surprisingly cultured voice.
The tall figure turned away from the fire, it’s hood hiding the features of it’s face, but the way the robes clung to its chest and the long black hair flowing out from it suggested it was feminine, its voice confirmed it.
“You said it yourself that this place was secure, did you not?” The woman replied, her voice dark and alluring.
“Well…Yes, but they were Aurors back there, that means the ministry is coming.” The fidgeting man groaned as he began to get up.
“Everte Statum,” the female figure said, the blast from he wand sent the man backwards in to his chair which skidded backwards a few inches. Coughing, the man tried to get back up but slumped into the chair.
“Now, I hope you won’t be leaving too soon, Somersby, as I have one more job for you to do before I can let you leave.” The female figure said with contempt.
Still coughing, Somersby looked up at her, hatred now clear in his eyes, he sputtered out the words, “damn you! Damn you, you bitch.” His hand beginning to slowly make its way to his wand.
“Such language, and here I was thinking you were the man for the job. I suppose I will have to find someone else who wants oh, I don’t know, twenty Galleons.” The witch said a smile just visible under hood.
Somersby’s hand hesitated and stopped, his face began to relax and slowly he sat back up in the chair. Intrigued, he asked, “twenty you say? What is it you wanted?”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The rain continued to fall hard outside, and three figures stood at the path leading up to the house. The wind left the rusty gate swinging back and forth, screeching as it went, and the lightning and thunder had died down now. The path itself twisted upwards around trees and discarded rocks, a daunting climb that suggested bad things. The figures themselves all wore robes except one who wore a pinstriped suit with a bowler’s hat, they held their wands out and a soft glowing light was emitted from each.
“Great, so subtle and here I was thinking this one was supposed to have brains,” the one with the bowler’s hat said, smiling.
One of the other figures, this one had long hair tied up in a ponytail, turned to the man with the bowler hat and gave him a half smile.
“Brains or not, he’s our man. However, this raises the question on why our necromancer wants him...” He said, trailing off thoughtfully as he kicked at the gate with his foot. He began up the path and the other two fell in behind him.
“I don’t know, all we have to go on is that some villagers reported un-dead folks walking about while back and then this guy shows up with Inferi... Maybe Somersby’s just lost it, decided con-jobs and thieving isn’t good enough for him.” The third man whispered as they got closer.
“Somersby isn’t the sort to cause too much trouble, besides Inferi would get him into Azkaban, hardly something he would risk without incentive, no, I believe someone's paying him and providing him the Inferi.” The ponytail man replied just as quietly.
“I don’t like it, Williamson, this is real dark, like You-Know-Who dark.” The third man said to the man with the ponytail, shivering slightly.
“Voldemort is dead as dead can be, he ain’t coming back, Yaxely,” Williamson said as they stopped just outside.
“Will you two shut it!? We don’t need him warned we’re right outside his door.” The bowler hat man whispered furiously.
“Sorry, Roland” Yaxley said with a sort of downward look.
Williamson just grinned and took up a position on the other side of the door as Roland placed his wand at the doorknob and whispered, “Alohomora!”
A brief light appeared at the end of Roland’s wand and the door swung open slowly. Williamson quickly dashed in to the room wand ready, it was dark and the fire had gone out. Behind him entered Yaxley and Roland slowly both lighting up the small cabin with their wands. It was small, three rooms at best; the one they had entered into was obviously the sitting room - it contained the fireplace, a small table and two large oak chairs.
The room had two other doors, one led to what appeared to be a bedroom and the other to the kitchen. Wordlessly, Williamson gave a Yaxely and Roland a slight nod and they split up - Yaxely taking the kitchen, Roland the bedroom.
Williamson began to look around the sitting room; he made his way to the fireplace to see how long ago it since it was last used. He did not notice the figure rising up from behind one of the seats.
“Cale! Look out!” Roland yelled at Cale Williamson, who promptly turned and leapt out of the way of a random spell that missed him by a hair's length.
The spell caused one of the chairs to explode into wooden splinters and the air filled with heavy silence. Williamson rolled to his feet and raised his wand, casting an Expelliarmus at his attacker.
The jet of red light hit the enemy’s wand and sent it wind-milling away causing the figure to dive to catch it. Suddenly, another curse hit him sending him spinning backwards into the other chair, both man and chair rolled backwards a further few metres. A groan punctured the silence and the man trapped by the chair struggled slightly. Williamson struggled to his feet, keeping his eyes trained on his trapped attacker encase he tried to flee.
“Somersby, should have known you would try a stunt like that.” Williamson growled as he picked up Somersby wand and pocketed it.
The man just groaned in reply as Roland went over and with a quick spell tied him up with a magical rope. Yaxely pulled the chair off him and set it right.
“So do we question him here? Or do we take him back to the department?” Yaxely asked and sat on the chair he had just fixed.
“I say we give this place a quick poke around and then head back with him, this place gives me the willies.” Roland said, dragging Somersby to the wall. Then he made his way back to the bedroom, “I saw a book in there on the bed, I’ll just grab it.”
“WAIT! Matt! NO!” Williamson roared leaping forward.
But suddenly a bright green light filled the room and Roland fell backwards, his corpse hitting the hard floor with a thump. Yaxely stared in shock, suddenly leaping to his feet rushing to Roland’s side. He checked his pulse, but then turned to Williamson shaking his head.
“H-h... He’s gone…” Was all he could manage.
Williamson stared at the book on the bed, it had been a trap, this whole thing had been a set-up.
But by who… And why?
