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(Adriana) Newcomers
Author: Bill Weasley
Date: 03-29-13 17:18
"We have guests, my Lady," said Ivanova.
The cloister was covered in a blanket of white snow. Adriana stood next to her beloved roses, which were nothing but twisting branches and thorns in the winter. She held the Elder Wand in her hand and pondered creating blossoms for the naked plants. She could picture the buds in her mind, bursting with color and growing larger and more fragrant with every wave of her wand. It would seem like springtime, and not the dead of winter, except for the thick, snowy carpet on the ground.
She turned, letting the image fade from her mind, and looked at her most loyal servant. He was alone, but Adriana knew the guests he spoke of were just inside the abbey building.
"Friends?" she asked him.
"They claim to be."
"And what do your instincts tell you?" Adriana asked him.
"One I know by name," he said. "I believe he will serve you well. The other I know not, but he appears to be a close family friend of Herrn Freitag. They arrived with the Blackthorns."
"Show the Blackthorns in," Adriana stated.
Ivanova gave a slight bow of his head and went inside to fetch Nicholas and Eleanor Blackthorn. They stepped outside a moment later, Nicholas dressed all in black, Eleanor dressed in an emerald green, fur-lined cloak.
"Tell me about our visitors," Adriana said, cutting right to the chase.
"Xanthus introduced us," said Eleanor. "He told us he knew of two wizards interested in joining the cause and wanted us to meet them. We have vetted them for you."
"We have no qualms in saying that we think they fit in here," Nicholas added.
"You both seem certain," Adriana said, musing over what little had been said. She had been dark long enough now to know "the Snitch" Xanthus, who had many connections and always seemed to be in the know. She had never met him personally, however.
"Very well," she said, "I should like to see them."
She turned her back to tend to the bare rose bushes while the Blackthorns fetched the newcomers. Adriana ran her thumb over a particularly large thorn and accidentally pierced flesh. A bead of blood appeared where she had been pricked and looked bright against the white backdrop of snow and ice.
For some reason, the drop of blood made Adriana think about Christina Sorcha. Sorcha had been out in the world for well over a month now. Adriana knew that undercover work required time and effort, but she felt impatient for news. She knew deep in her heart that Sorcha would find her the information she wanted about Voldemort's final resting place, but she wondered how long it would take.
A throat cleared, jarring Adriana from her thoughts. She raised her injured thumb to her lips and sucked on the wound. Then she turned to greet the newcomers.
One was a young wizard, probably around her age, give or take a few years. The other was middle-aged.
"Introduce yourselves," Adriana commanded.
The younger wizard looked to the elder, but when the elder failed to answer, the younger wizard took a step forward and said in a slightly accented voice, "My name is Hans Freitag. I have come to swear my allegiance to you, Miss Fairchild."
"And you?" Adriana asked, after a quick, visual assessment of Hans.
The older wizard stepped forward, looking far less the staunch supporter than his younger, more handsomer friend. "I am Berthold Beatenberg," he said, in a clear, unwavering voice. His Germanic accent was more pronounced.
He and Adriana locked eyes for a long moment.
"The Blackthorns vouch for you both, and as they have not disappointed me thus far, I accept you into my following," she said at last. Adriana could not make heads or tails of Beatenberg, who did not show his hand plainly upon his face, but perhaps he could be a worthwhile ally. And if not, then she would have to make an example of him.
"Thank you, Miss Fairchild," Hans said, sinking down on one knee with a fist clutched over his chest.
Beatenberg did not bow or kneel, but he dipped his head and murmured, "Thank you."
"Nicholas, gather everyone for the introduction." A proper induction would follow only if Hans and Berthold proved their worth to Adriana. She turned away again and looked at her thumb, which had scabbed over in the interim and felt sore.
Behind her, she could feel wizards gathering. She looked up in time to see an owl swoop down, bearing a letter in its talons.
Odd and Odder - Mockridge Townhouse
Author: Nephele Mockridge
Date: 03-31-13 13:23
Nephele had spent the week between Christmas and the New Year in her potions lab, though she had made time for Valeria and other obligations. But her mind was thoroughly occupied by the potion Pippin had asked her to test. She finally had a breakdown of ingredients as well as various uses of the substance and ways it could be absorbed and had jotted them all onto a piece of parchment. Her tone was still a bit formal, but she couldn't let him think all was forgiven so easily.
She had really been quite worried when she knew he was in St. Mungo's, and while she hadn't visited, as she'd discovered his location in a rather roundabout fashion, she had expected to hear from him much sooner than she had, and for it to not only take so long, but be so impersonal, had put her into a right snit. The new potion to play with had partially appeased her, as she knew it was because Pippin not only trusted her but her abilities, but she wasn't going to let him off the hook quite so easily.
Besides, she had to admit, it was intriguing to see what Pip would do to get back into her good graces. A wicked smirk crossed her features as she considered the possibilities. Hopefully, her note, along with a copy of the schedule she and Slughorn had agreed upon, would give him some ideas. And in the meantime, she would stay busy with Valeria until she went back to Hogwarts, and working on her research into Philantha Parkinson and the ancient curse.
The thought of Slughorn reminded her that it was odd she'd not heard from the professor. She had sent him a lovely container of crystallized pineapple, which Cloris had told her was the man's favorite and it was odd that she'd not received a thank you note yet. Of course, it was also possible that she was being paranoid, when a large number of gifts are received, it can often take more than a week to respond to everyone. Surely that was the reason she'd yet to hear from the Potions Master...
Shaking her head, she pushed the troubling thought from her mind and picked up Philantha Parkinson's journal once more. The picture of her ancestress painted through the witch's own words was quite disturbing, and yet not to the daughter of Cloris Parkinson Mockridge.
The Unexpected Guest
Author: Roger Bexley
Date: 03-31-13 13:24
Roger eyed the European adder snake slithering across his faded orange shag-pile rug warily. "So, you say she wanted to visit me?"
Mary took a moment to consider her answer, allowing the supple creature to wind its sinuous form over her leg. She hissed a message in slithering sibilants to the serpent, which flicked its forked tongue once, and returned her reply.
"She says she is interested in you, as my relation. She wondered of you might have the gift as well."
Bexley raised his eyebrows. "Er, I should be flattered, I suppose."
"So," replied Mary, smiling as the snake wound itself around her shoulders like a throw, "have you?"
"No...it doesn't sound like anything but hisses to me." Bexley brushed his sweaty palms over his tweed trousers. "How are your other pets?"
"Prince is growing, but he gets teased by the other students. I try to keep him hidden most of the time. But it's alright, I'm used to it. I'm always different to everyone else."
"So was I, and I turned out fine." He smiled. "Not many of my classmates ended up working as Aurors."
A dark glow shone within Mary's abyssal eyes. She turned her pale, angular face to him, and the cousins met, eye-to-eye, for a few moments. Bexley felt the stirrings of dread under her black gaze, though the child had a half-satisfied smile on her small lips.
Just then, an owl collided urgently with the frosted windowpane. Bexley rose to let the poor, bedraggled creature in at once. It perched on the edge of his threadbare sofa, suffering the second shock of its unpleasant eventing when it saw the reptile coiled around Mary's neck.
Bexley managed to prise a note from its beak. The purple wax seal was stamped with the Ministry's own cipher. He opened it with haste, reading the news. His face grew grim and quiet in the fading light.
"Well, Mary," he announced, with a touch of dismay. "I'm afraid my holiday is over tomorrow. There's been a break-in at Gringotts, so it's best you returned to Hogwarts for your own safety." He eyed the serpent that coiled protectively around her. He wasn't sure she needed it.