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Salzburg, Austria: The Identity of a Killer
Author: Fritz Schnackenpfefferhausen
Date: 12-09-12 14:49
The house-elf, a timid creature in a thread-bare tea towel, steps forward bearing a heavily-laden tray. The only announcement of its presence is a squeak, followed by the rattle of a spoon against the saucer on which it rests.
Berthold Beatenberg finally deigns to look at the creature and sees large eyes peering up from behind the heavy, lacquered tray.
"Tea, for the master," the house-elf says in a high-pitched tone of voice.
"Set it there," Berthold replies, gesturing to an empty space on his otherwise cluttered desk.
The house-elf does as told and then backs away from the desk before vanishing up a flight of stairs. One of the two house-elves Berthold procured after returning to his family home in Salzburg serves him well. The other is so stricken with fear, a trait he expects from his servants, but not such that it leads to total incompetence.
Berthold eyes the tray warily. The tea, a red fruit blend, looks innocuous enough and has a lovely odor. The accompanying snack is a slice of Aachener Printen, a type of cookie very similar to gingerbread. Although it is only the middle of September, many of the shops in Austria, both Muggle and wizarding alike, are already selling Christmas treats.
The house-elf could have done little to harm the gingerbread, perhaps other than to drop it on the floor after removing it from the package. The tea, on the other hand, might not taste as good as it smells. Berthold lifts the teacup to his lips, gives the fruit tea a little taste and then decides the other house-elf must have prepared it. He takes a more generous sip before returning the cup to its saucer and turning his attention to the newspaper open on his desk.
The identity of Albus Dumbledore's murderer has finally reached the Austrian papers, but since it is an event that happened in Britain, the news warrants only a small, bare-bones article towards the back of the newspaper. Still, it gives Berthold exactly what he needs: the name of the wizard, in this case a witch, who killed Dumbledore and may have had a hand in Grindelwald's death.
Who is this Adriana Fairchld, he wonders to himself. How could she have killed one, if not two of the most powerful wizards in the world?
And where is she now?
Berthold wants an interview with her, but first he'll need to find her.
A New Client (#68 Knockturn Alley)
Author: Blaise Zabini
Date: 12-09-12 15:48
Written with Phyllida
Inside the small, dimly lit office, a fairly young wizard sat, kicked back in his chair, feet propped on his desk. Disheveled dark hair fell over surprisingly intense hazel eyes. Filing cabinets hung open nearby, with a house-elf randomly popping from cabinet to cabinet, filing the papers in a system that made sense to only itself and the seemingly bored young man.
A slight knock drew both their attention. At the man's nod, the elf used it's own kind of magic to place the papers in their proper places before it went down the stairs to open the door and show the guest to the small suite of rooms. Which gave the young man time to unholster his wand, just in case. He kept the relaxed, lazy air, it had proven quite useful among the society he preferred, as well as added to his playboy image.
Behind the house-elf, the young visitor entered the reception room cautiously, her grey cat weaving between her legs. Phyllida clutched her bag by its purse-strings, her eyes fixed on the bookcases which surrounded her. Mr Zabini's office appeared to occupy all stories of this narrow, windowless building on Knockturn Alley, with nothing more than an unobtrusive plaque on the street entrance that pronounced, to those whom it concerned, that these were the premises of B. Zabini, Private Defense Attorney.
She turned to address the elf. "Will Mr Zabini be along shortly?"
"Yes, Madam," the creature replied, disapparating with an unhelpful 'pop'.
When the elf informed Blaise that it was a young redhead who waited, Blaise got to his feet. He'd always had a fondness for redheads, at least those who weren't blood-traitors. He took a moment to run his hands through his hair and make sure he had reached the perfect level of disreputable to be enticing and yet inspire confidence in the right kind of people.
Before he entered the reception area, he studied his guest for a moment, trying to place her. She was young, barely out of Hogwarts if he wasn't mistaken.
"Mr Zabini?" she asked, eyeing the man in the corridor. He was distinguished in pure-blood circles, mostly due to the infamy of his mother; his appearance, with his hair in rakish disarray, and the arrogant swagger with which he approached her, seemed only to reinforce his reputation.
"At your service, m'dear," Blaise drawled, bowing slightly. "You're a bit younger than most of my potential clients, so I'm dying to know, how may I be of service?" His rakish grin suggested he knew exactly how his phrasing came across and that he had, in fact, intended the innuendo.
She arched her eyebrow at him, as Ptolemy settled comfortably on a low pouf. "My name is Phyllida. Phineus Grimshaw-Spore is my father. I'm sure you've heard the news." She levelled him a determined gaze. "I want him out of Azkaban, and I've been led to believe," she paused, wondering whether Mrs Mockridge had temporarily lost leave of her senses in recommending Blaise Zabini, "that you are the man to do it."
"I had heard about your father's unfortunate circumstances," he admitted. "As for getting him out of Azkaban, I am probably your best hope. I could pretend modesty, but I doubt you'd believe me, and it really wouldn't serve either of us well." He leaned against his desk, glancing at the cat with a slight nod. Something told him the creature was more than what he seemed.
"What sort of evidence does the Ministry have? Or would I need to ask them?"
Phyllida smiled a little at his proclamation of immodesty, but she disguised it swiftly under a sigh. "I only know what was reported in the papers, and who knows how much of it is true? I had…I was away from home when the arrest occurred. It was too sudden."
"Then our first step would be to discover what they have on him. Have you returned home yet or is that not an option? I assume Gringotts has frozen his vaults," Blaise said, a bit more businesslike than he had been, but still relaxed.
"I just came from Gringotts. Our vault was frozen this morning," she confirmed. "I can't return home. Mother has always been a bit…out of touch with reality. Dealing with her would only be a distraction right now." She gave a guilty pause. "From what I read in the paper, the accusations seemed to be that my father had been a part of Smythe-Jones' cabinet while he was in retirement. They believed he was involved in the torture of Muggle-born children in an isolated Nons camp."
"With the hunt for Adriana Fairchild on, according to the Prophet, it may be difficult to get him off of those charges, the Ministry will want to appear to be accomplishing something," Blaise said. "I have rooms, so you can stay with me, if you'd like, which will enable us to work a great deal on the case, if, of course, you want me to take it." He would bring up payment at some point, but he didn't always trade in financial transactions. Sometimes, it was better for someone to owe a few favors, depending on the person.
Phyllida watched his face carefully, taken aback by his generosity. "I do appreciate your help, Mr Zabini. Even if I have no foreseeable way to pay for your services, at least not until I can access our vault again."
"Sometimes, it's more useful to be owed favors," Blaise said with a shrug. "Besides, it's not complete generosity. Mother's been harping about me and marriage, you should distract her nicely, at least until she remembers that she's been considering husband number eleven. We'll discuss my fees when Gringotts has unfrozen your family's vault."
The young witch shot him a look of understanding."I've been in that particular boat, too. The one upside to this mess with the Ministry is that everybody is too distracted to think about that."
"It is useful. So how did you find your way to my door? I'm betting that someone had to refer you, most don't see the plaque on the door unless they have reason to," Blaise asked, wanting to get off the topic of his mother as soon as possible.
"Cloris Mockridge recommended you," she replied, her green eyes studying him. "And with connections like her among the right people, I trusted her. I almost didn't notice your door, though." She smiled. "I thought, perhaps, you didn't encourage walk-ins."
"Normally, I don't. Cloris though, with her recommendation, I would be duty-bound to help. Else she'd Floo Pansy and then I'd never hear the end of it," Blaise said, a hint of his mischievous personality showing. "Honestly, keep one school chum out of Azkaban. I'm still getting letters from Goyle and Crabbe, though they are hopeless cases."
"You don't think my father's case is hopeless?" she asked probingly.
"No, though I doubt it's going to be an easy one. It seems everything is circumstantial and we may have to reveal things that won't be pretty, as well as investigate the site of these alleged crimes," he said. "Crabbe and Goyle's are hopeless because they were daft enough to be marked and caught with that lunatic. I can't exactly argue them out of that one. In your father's case, it's likely a case of putting the right spin on things."
"By the sounds of it, it seems you might be good at that," she replied with a vague smile, aware he had been weaving just the right image of himself, while feigning an affected disinterest. "You were in Slytherin house, weren't you? You still have a reputation there for being silver-tongued."
"Never a bad thing, being a silver-tongued serpent," Blaise acknowledged. "Is Snape still fluttering about the dungeons like an overgrown bat?" he asked. "I've actually rather missed that glare when I get into mischief, Mother just doesn't do it right and none of her husbands were all that interested."
Remembering the Potions professor, she gave a wry grin. "I rarely gave Professor Snape any reason to glare at me. At least, nothing that he knew of." Her mood sank a little, as she remembered sneaking around with the Ross boy between classes. Snape had known of that; and she recalled the sneering disapproval on his face. But she wasn't about to admit to any of that in front of Blaise.
"If you want, we can head to my home now, we shouldn't have any more visitors today, and if we do, I'm sure my elf will handle it, or come and get me if it's urgent." He had no name for the creature, he didn't need one. His elves all came when he called without worrying about naming them or keeping them straight.
She glanced at Ptolemy, who was dozing comfortably on the pouf. The sulky old cat was usually wary of accepting hospitality, but he had seemed far better-natured in Blaise's company. She took it as a good sign. "Thank you," she accepted quietly, sobered suddenly by the intensity of the hazel eyes that regarded her.
"Floo or Side-Along Apparition?" he asked, knowing that either would be the easiest ways to get her to the palatial estate he'd inherited from his father. A number of other properties were at his disposal, thanks to his mother's numerous marriages. That was how he'd acquired his building in Knockturn Alley, after all.
"I imagine Apparition would be quicker, in this case," the witch replied, seeing that there were no fireplaces in the immediate vicinity. She leaned down to pick up the sleeping cat, tucking him under her arm.
"More than likely. The Floo Connection's in the Reception area, gives me more time in case it's someone who needs hexing," he answered, offering his arm. "Hang on tight, m'dear." Once she'd taken his arm, he turned, firmly fixing the destination in mind.
Sticking Close To Hogwarts
Author: Dante Knight
Date: 12-09-12 18:28
Dante had gone to breakfast though as is usual for him these days he'd not eaten much. From there he'd followed a number of students on their way to the Quidditch trials. He'd sat for awhile watching the warm-ups, drills, and first scrimmages before going on a run. Since spending most of one afternoon well into the evening at the Ministry giving a statement and being questioned, Dante rarely leaves school grounds. If he needs anything, he can owl for it. The exceptions are his runs and a trip to Gringotts in Hogsmeade earlier in the week.
Dante's reason for not going off the grounds much are compound. Depression. Putting in more hours working, putting in extra hours preparing for classes. Spending time mastering some extremely advanced, tricky charms. More time in the Fitness & Athletics room with weight training and using the pool. Rita Skeeter out there prowling around looking for more dirt on Hogwarts staff. The knowledge he's under surveillance and any owl he might get, even one carrying an order he's made will be intercepted before being sent on to him. He has no doubt that outgoing owls are being monitored as well despite the Ministry being satisfied that he has no knowledge of how to contact his family. Lastly, there is the possibility that one of his family will have decided to try yet again to get him to see the error of his ways and make contact when he's out and about.
Dante had ended his run today while still on the road back to Hogwarts. He walked the rest of the way back but not before his shadow, a Hit Wizard with the first name Isreal, had slowed as he came up right behind him. The wizard had bent over with hands on knees, wheezing enough that Dante stopped to make sure the man wasn't about to pass out. When Isreal had caught his breath he'd rasped, "My wife thanks you?"
"I don't follow."
"Somehow I keep ending up the one on shift when you've taken your runs, no matter the time, and in the week and a half since being assigned, my wife says she can already tell I've dropped some weight and firmed up."
Dante had given a very small chuckle along with an, "Um, you're welcome? Or maybe I should say I'm sorry that I run so much."
"No worries, mate. I can use the exercise."
Dante had continued on back to Hogwarts then. Though warm and sweaty at that point despite the crispness of the September day, he'd returned to the pitch, not at all that out of place among all the students trying out who were, by that time, warm and sweaty. A bottle of water in hand but not at all hungry, he found a good spot to sit and watch more of the scrimmages, suppressing an urge to go crawl into bed and pull the covers over his head for the next several months.
The List
Author: Sophie McCourt
Date: 12-10-12 02:12
For the past week Sophie had been determinate to participate in the Quidditch try outs. But once the day arrived she started getting some cold feet about that idea and so she decided to assist the trials at the stands with her colleague and roommate, Emily Murray.
"That's my brother over there!" Emily pointed out to an older student who was up in the air, wearing the Gryffindor colors. She clapped her hands cheering for him, once the scrimmage he was participating ended.
Then it was Sophie who clapped her hands, because it was Caleb's turn to play in a scrimmage. She knew he wasn't doing this for a position at the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. Caleb was well aware that only if you were really talented you would make the team in your first year and he was realistic enough to know that it was not his case. However, he still wanted to participate, if not for the position then for the experience.
Sophie had no idea how he was able to feel comfortable playing with students that were so much older than him. But it seemed that he didn't mind as she watched him passing the quaffle to a girl from the Slytherin house and that clearly belonged to the 6th or 7th year. Sophie held tight to Emily's arm when a bludger passed only a few inches over Caleb's head. He just seemed so little and fragile compared to the others…
When his scrimmage ended she was able to relax. Emily was looking at her with a funny expression in her face.
"What?" Sophie asked.
"Is Caleb Quigley your boyfriend?"
"Eww, no! Emily, that's gross! We are just friends."
The idea of holding hands and kissing Caleb was awful. He might be Sophie's best friend, but at the end of the day he was still a boy and boys were all silly, in her opinion. Emily explained she thought there was something going on because she used to spend all the time with him.
"Then you are Hiram Young's girlfriend. I saw how you two always have lunch together," she teased Emily.
"Gross! No!" Emily laughed. "And I had lunch with Devon Abbott almost every day this week," she excused herself.
Soon the matter was dropped and they turned their attention back to the pitch. Emily was writing down in a parchment who she thought it would make each team, however since she didn't know the names of almost everyone she just labeled each student according to what they looked like.
"Who is the 'tall guy from Slytherin who I have seen before, but I don't know his name'?"
"That one over there," Emily pointed out.
"That's the school's Head Boy, Basil Wybourne."
"I knew he looked familiar."
"This list is all wrong," Sophie said, stealing the parchment from Emily's hands as well as her quill. She wrote Basil's name in the Slytherin column. "And who is the 'Gryffindor boy, with an amazing new broom'?"
Emily looked down to the pitch and finally pointed to a boy who was carrying a brand new Goldentail broom. He was chatting with the famous player Oliver Wood. Sophie studied the boy carefully and finally she scribbled down his name on the parchment.
"How do you know everyone's names?"
"I don't. But this one was easy to guess. You know Malden McGonagall, from Slytherin? The one from our year? That boy his his brother, Madoc. I remember Malden talking about him to his friends when he was passing by. They belong Headmistress McGonagall's family. And honestly how can you not know who is the school's head boy? Can you at least name the Hufflepuff's prefects?"
"I wrote one of them down. She was the one who showed us where the common room was at the first day. Where is it?" he finger passed over the list of names. "Ah! Here! Aleydis Vanderbilt. Seeker."
"Do you think she will make the team?"
"I hope so. I heard she was pretty good."
The two girls spend the rest of the trials trying to name each student and elaborating what they thought would be the best Quidditch rooster for each one of the houses.
(Colin) Sympathizing with the Enemy
Author: Johanna Steele
Date: 12-10-12 05:39
"You suck!" Angus McLeach yelled at Gryffindor boy that had just mounted his broom, ready for his scrimmage match. "Come on Hawke, what did we agree at breakfast? You have to help me to heckle them, so they can lose their confidence."
Colin just leaned back on his seat and crossed his arms.
"By doing that, you're giving them too much importance. I thought they were insignificant to you McLeach. What was it that you called them? 'Less than worms', I believe. So by heckling them you acknowledge they bother you and that in fact you feel intimidated by them."
Angus seemed to think about this for a moment. But instead of admitting Colin was right he just snarled:
"You don't understand, since you have only been here for a few weeks. We hate the Gryffindors and they hate us. It's an ancient rivalry. They deserve to be heckled. One day you'll realize this but since you're new at the school, I'll forgive you this time for sympathizing with them."
And then Angus started to heckle the Gryffindors again. Colin couldn't help to think he looked somewhat like a raged baboon, waving his arms and yelling, like it was the end of the world. He kept watching the trials. Although he liked Quidditch he had never felt confident enough to play but he could not help to admit there were many talented players at the school. Colin then noticed a girl a few seats away that was wearing a Gryffindor scarf, despite the pleasant weather. She was clearly there to support her housemates. Perhaps even her boyfriend. Nevertheless, Colin stood up.
"Where are you going?" Angus asked.
"Like you said, I am new at the school, so there won't be no harm done if I go over there and 'sympathize' with that girl. "
"What girl?"
Colin pointed her out.
"You're mad? What did I just tell you? She's the enemy! Look there's Thalia over there with her friends, why don't you go and chat with her? You two have hanging out together a lot."
"We just do homework together, that's all. Just see it this way McLeach: while I am distracting her, she won't be supporting her house. I'm doing you a favor, right?"
"Sometimes I think you're too clever for a Slytherin. You should have been sorted into Ravenclaw."
But Colin barely listened to him. He was already on his way to greet the girl, his mind trying to figure the best approach. Probably he should talk about Quidditch. It was a safe topic and if she was here at the pitch, it probably meant she was into it.
Discussing Things - Mockridge TownHouse
Author: Kirley Mockridge
Date: 12-10-12 06:27
Kirley held the door of the Townhouse open for Cass. "The library here is pretty good, though most of the good stuff that you'll probably be really interested in is at the Manor. We tend to keep copies of some in the other properties, the stuff we can replace easily. The Manor has the irreplaceable books and manuscripts. I think the family journals are there too."
She nodded. "I presume that is the oldest collection?" she said.
"Yes, it's the ancestral seat, so everything tends to be based there," he answered. "But you might find something of interest here too." A teasing note slipped into his voice.
A brow arched. "We shall see," she replied. "I've developed quite a discerning eye over the years."
"I should hope so, it's no fun if you're not picky," he teased, deliberately twisting her comment.
"Oh, I assure you, I am very selective," Cassandra said. She pushed open the door to the library and was immediately captivated. If there was one thing guaranteed to fix her attention, it was books. Old books, especially.
She walked over to the nearest shelf. Her gaze ran appraisingly over the spines of the books on it. The Mockridges, as she would have expected, had an excellent collection.
"I would expect nothing less," Kirley murmured as they entered the library. He hung back and watched her for a moment, enjoying the view. "Well, does this particular bit of our collection meet your expectations?"
The tiniest hint of a smile played about her lips as she said, "It'll do, I suppose. Where are the transfiguration books kept?"
Kirley studied the shelves for a moment before he moved to a section of the walls. "Here, I think this is most of them. Most of the potions texts in here are mere copies of Nephele's personal library, that's why they take up so much room on the other side of the room."
"I wouldn't have expected anything less," Cassandra said. "Nephele has been fascinated by potions for as long as I have known her." But transfiguration had been her own particular favourite subject and her fingers trailed lovingly over the spine of one of the books.
"What does Valeria have already?" she asked.
"She has the texts we used in school, plus her own copies that we bought her over the summer, but then the book list was changed when Cyprien Flint took over lower years Transfiguration after Dumbledore's death," Kirley said. "Valeria says he's very theory-focused and it's over a lot of heads. She's barely following."
"The theory can be useful," she said. "I know I always preferred to understand the theory before attempting the practical. It cut down on mishaps."
"It does," Kirley agreed, "but from what I know of Flint, he's rather focused on published academics. I'm not sure he will translate well to a bunch of young students preparing for O.W.L. years."
"Possibly not," she conceded, "and most especially not for First Years who have no other background in the discipline."
She tapped her fingers against a book. "Let's see, this one, I think... and this one... and maybe this one too..." She fished them off the shelves and dumped them into Kirley's arms.
"That should give them a good starting point," he said with a nod. "Valeria mentioned in her letter that she was writing to Mother as well, though I doubt Mother will send her anything for specific subjects, unless it's Defense. I'm betting Valeria told her about the duel as well."
"In which case, I suspect your mother sent her a nice selection of hexes and jinxes," Cassandra said dryly. "So we need not bother with that. How is she with her other subjects? Charms? Herbology?"
"She's good in Herbology, mainly because of how closely it ties in with Potions. Her charms could probably use some work, but she said Professor Flitwick is teaching the lower years again, so I have no doubts she'll do well with him," Kirley said.
"Flitwick was one of the better teachers," Cassandra agreed. "He and McGonagall. Neither had any issues making themselves understood."
"Exactly. McGonagall's Headmistress now, so Sirius Black took over the upper years Transfiguration, and that's why they brought Flint in, I suspect. I seem to remember the Minister saying he'd suggested the man, I can only speculate that it's partly because of the suddenness of Dumbledore's death," Kirley said.
"Sudden and suspicious," Cassandra said dryly. Dumbledore had been an old man, but she hadn't noticed anybody presuming he'd died of natural causes.
"They all seem pretty certain it was Adriana Fairchild, at least enough that Skeeter's report couldn't be retracted," he said with a shrug. A sound in the entry caught his attention. "Sounds like Nephele is home," was barely out of his mouth before the blonde came in, muttering about crazy potions masters expecting her to be a joke supplier.
"Nephele," Cass said with a smile. A brow arched at her friend's muttering. "Problem?"
"Not really a problem. Slughorn thinks I should release a toned-down version of the potion I made that made Mr. Hartcrofte's trousers vanish when he visited here. Not as strong, certainly, but he seems to think the caustic substance could be useful. I fail to imagine how outside of pranks and illegal activities, so I've emphatically said no for the time being," the blonde said. "How are you, Cass?"
"I am... fine," came the cautious reply. Cassandra glanced at Kirley and then back at his twin sister. "I have made a deal with your brother and I would like to talk with you, if I may."
"Well, he's not bleeding and doesn't appear to be cursed in any fashion, so that's a step up from what I expected," Nephele answered. "So I'm all ears."
"The bleeding and hexing is being held in reserve for future occasions," Cassandra said. "No point using all my ammunition in one go."
Her gaze met Nephele's. "I have promised that I will tell you both what I know about the family curse," she said, "but I have one condition. Once I have explained, that will be that."
"Cass, you can't ask me not to look into ways to help. I'd do it regardless, but it's easier if you're at least talking to me when I am trying to find some solutions," the blonde said.
Kirley shook his head. He was pretty sure he and Cass had been over this themselves. He knew his twin wouldn't give up, not when someone she considered a friend was struggling.
"I have every right to ask you to leave things alone," Cassandra argued stubbornly. "This is my problem. No-one else's."
"No, but you're my friend, Cass, I can't leave you to suffer without trying everything I can," Nephele said. "I don't exactly have so many friends that I can just leave them to suffer in silence."
There was a long, stubborn silence. Then Cassandra sighed. She shook her head. "I honestly don't think there's anything you can do, Neph," she said. "All sorts of things have been tried over the generations. Nothing has ever worked. I tried myself when I was younger. In the end, I gave it up as a bad job. I had to accept that this was just the way things were."
"Cass, you know we've always been better at things together than we were apart. Different strengths and all. If it's a potion solution, or some sort of charm, we're a better bet," the blonde said. "If it doesn't work, then you can lord it over me for the rest of our lives, but it might. Not to mention, we have access to some ancient family journals that might help. Not just the Mockridge ones, but the Parkinson as well."
A faint wry smile touched Cass's lips. "Charms were always Callie's thing," she murmured. She studied her friend for a second, then shrugged. "The Catesby volumes are all at the Castle."
Nephele smiled, she knew when she'd won even a minor battle of wills. "We should start with those then, so we can see what's been tried. No point being repetitive."
"Cass has also helped choose some books for Valeria," Kirley said, pointing to the stack he'd placed on the table.
"Oh good, they'll actually teach her something beside hexes, curses or jinxes. I don't even want to know what Mother sent her," his twin said.