|argus is a free bitch, baby (silkensailed) wrote in wished,|
@ 2010-01-24 01:41:00
|Entry tags:||!1998: 01, !complete, argus pyrites|
Who: Argus Pyrites & Jacob Thresher (NPC)
What: Lending a hand to all the Mudbloods.
Where: Argus' office at Shalott
When: Around 2:30 in the morning, Friday into Saturday
Rating/Warnings: PG at most. Nothing too crazy.
Keeping the Lovegood girl had been annoying at first, even if securing the room had been an easy task. Recently, though, she’d become tired and quiet. Almost every time Argus went down to bring food or drink in the evenings, he found her sleeping. All the better – he didn’t like the way she looked at him when she was awake.
It had been a late Friday night, that was certain, and Saturday morning was coming on quickly. Argus was not planning on coming in tomorrow until the early evening, so he anticipated a nice bout of sleeping late. He began to extinguish the lamps and was heading for the record player when he heard a scraping outside the back door of his office. The noise was followed by a cough, and then, a deliberate knock.
Brow creased in confusion – it was common knowledge Shalott closed at midnight on Fridays – Argus left the music playing and approached the door. Not expecting any sort of threat, his left his wand up his sleeve, drew back the lock, and opened the door halfway.
In the dim lighting from the lamp outside, Argus could make out a slender male form just a few feet from the doorway. His eyes began to adjust, and he saw that it was a young man, with a cloak drawn around him and a harassed look on his face. He looked at Argus carefully, but his demeanor bespoke a desperation that was hard to miss.
“You’re…” the man began. His voice sounded shaky, as though he’d been running and had only half recovered his breath. “You’re Argus Pyrites? You are, aren’t you?”
“She said you would be able to help me.” The man stepped forward. “Please, let me in. I’m afraid I could be seen at any moment, and we would both be in trouble then. I don’t want to get arrested…I don’t want you to get arrested…”
Argus stood aside, wondering what on earth was going on. The man certainly didn’t seem to be a threat. Half-crazed, maybe, but it seemed more with fear than with any potential for violence. The man entered the office in a hurry, getting his bearings as Argus closed – and locked – the door.
With some surprise Argus noted that the man had already seated himself at a small table at the far wall, out of sight of any windows. That seemed quite presumptuous, but he didn’t say anything. The man detected that he’d acted in haste, and hurried to answer.
“Stop.” Argus held up his hand. So that’s what this was. Someone had told this man that Shalott was some sort of…Mudblood harbor, or something. Interesting.
The man’s breathing was slowing, and in the light of the office he looked even younger than he had at first. “Jacob. Jacob Thresher.”
“Well, Jacob, you can certainly remain here for the night. I understand that things have become dangerous for Muggleborns,” Argus said in as compassionate a tone he could muster. “I’ll get you something to eat and drink, and then there’s a cellar you can spend the night in. It’s not the most comfortable accommodations, but it will be safe until you move on.”
Jacob just nodded. His eyes were fixed on his feet, and he seemed scared out of his mind. Argus thought that Jacob didn’t realize that he ought to be much more afraid than he was. Moving leisurely, Argus went out to the kitchens and fixed a sandwich and a mug of hot cider. Upon his return, he pulled up a chair across from Jacob and sat with the young man while he ate.
Though it was clear that Jacob was in no shape to hold a real conversation, Argus managed to glean the following information: Jacob had been given the idea that Argus Pyrites would surely be sympathetic to mudbloods-on-the-run and gladly provide a safe place to spend a night; Jacob was a Muggleborn, and had a job in the Department of Magical Sports and Games; Jacob was going to live in Italy until this all blew over; Jacob was terrified that his parents and brothers might be dead.
A half hour later, all that remained on Jacob’s plate were a few crumbs, which even now he was idly picking at. He had calmed considerably, and kept looking up at Argus with an expression of admiring gratefulness. He was also clearly exhausted.
“I think you should probably settle in, now. It’s very late and I expect you want to get moving early,” Argus said. Rising from his seat, he stretched his arms widely. He gave Jacob a mild look. “There is one thing I think you ought to do first, though.”
“Yeah. Hm? Oh, what’s that?”
“I want you to write a letter on this parchment. Actually, I want you to write several letters. As many as you can. I want you to write these letters to every one of your Mudblood friends, and I want you to tell them that you are safe, and that if they need a safe place to stay, that they should come here. As you did.” Argus’ tone was light and conversational. “They should know that Argus Pyrites is more than happy to open his doors to all the Mudbloods who are on the run from the law.”
Jacob’s expression had changed throughout all of this – the sense of safety was gone, and all one could see was that Jacob was plainly horrified. His gaze had remained fixed on the parchments, until Argus’ final words. His hands were shaking, and he began to push himself back from the table. The sound of the chair legs scraping against the wooden floor sounded somehow louder than it should have.