Who: Auror Shacklebolt and Amara!Dolph Where: Near the Bones' home, Eskdale When: 6 January, after this What: Kingsley checks out the Bones' neighbors
Rating G
The door to the Bones home shut firmly behind him, Kingsley gave an examination of the windows and doors and then started the rounds in the neighbourhood. With only a few houses, it wasn't long before he came to the last one, admiring what he could of the well-tended garden. He knocked on the door, hopeful that he would find some reason for the Bones' evident fear and reclusion, but not holding out much hope.
From the curtains, she had been watching, eyes far keener than they seemed and flashing a sharp green as the little frame bearing them slid from the window and across the torchlight drenched floor. A pause before the door, it opened to expose one to the other. She to the uncomfortably tall black man, he to the withered old lady a scant five feet tall at best. Recognition shuddered back in the invisible depths of a surprisingly quick mind, but only concern registered across eyes and old lips. "Can I help you?"
Kingsley nodded respectfully at the old woman. "Good evening. I apologise for bothering you so late, but I've been asked to check the area for any sort of disturbance." Aware that his size was intimidating to many, he smiled reassuringly, keeping his tone even and pleasant.
"Disturbance?" The look was bland, and then the old woman peered out of the door a bit worriedly, fingers tightening around the frame. "Is this about Audrey and Seth?" The mockery was distasteful, but every movement flawlessly awkward, nervous, and old. "Are they alright?" A peer up, suspiciously. "Who -are- you, if y'don't mind me asking?"
"I apologise. I'm Kingsley Shacklebolt, a Ministry Auror. Mr and Mrs Bones are fine," he reassured. "I'm simply making sure that everyone else is, as well. You haven't seen anything out of the ordinary lately, have you, Mrs...?"
"Loge, Loge... Amara." A sudden look of alarm precluded the shaking of hands and she opened the door a bit more. "You should come in. Not safe," muttering, then, she ushered the significantly larger man in, peering out after him as though some great beast was right on his tail. "I'll make us a cuppa, then, shall I?"
"Mrs Loge." Repeating the name to commit it to memory, he stepped into the house, feeling unusually large within the confines, most likely because of the diminutive old woman standing before him. He shook his head at the offer of tea. "No, thank you. Why do you claim it not to be safe?" Besides the obvious threat of Voldemort, of course. But was there another reason?
She paused between the door and the kitchen, looking at him, perplexed. "First the neighbors don't come out any more and now aurors on the doorstep? What else does it mean! Something's goin' on, isn't it!" Thin, papery hands wrung into her skirt, far more agitated than the cool mind beneath that watched Kingsley with an annoyance and disquieting vulnerability.
"Your neighbours don't come out?" He watched her with some surprise. Two of the other houses had been empty; the third had explained this as the result of a pub night in the local village. But this was the second mention of neighbours staying in or staying very close to home. Something tantalises his brain, a problem needing to be worked. "That's what I'm attempting to discover, Mrs Loge. If something is, indeed going on. Is Mr Loge about?"
"I don't think so. Probably down at the pub, mingling with t'locals." In distress, she smoothed her skirt. "They just stopped coming about, like. Sure you won't have any tea?" She pointed to the shabby but homey little living room and edged to the kitchen. "Won't be but a moment. Need to settle me nerves."
"Please, don't let me stop you. I'm quite fine." He walked carefully into the living room, not trusting himself to sit in the rather delicate-looking furniture without breaking it, and so studied the pictures and other knick-knacks strewn around the room. When she came back in, he decided to risk sitting on the sofa, rather than towering over her. "How long ago did they stop?"
It was in the kitchen that Amara had taken long slow breaths and chugged down a hidden vial of potion. Her heart was pounding a bit too hard for such a small chest, and it required a bit of effort to repress the overwhelming urge to simply walk out and murder her visitor in cold blood. A cup of tea prepared in moments, and she joined her company, taking a seat across and settling tenderly. And, tea in hand, she thought, squinting a bit as if she had not known the very hour of their sudden estrangement. "Twere Sunday they didn't come over for tea. Monday I heard naught of 'em. And here we are. Only two days but the only two days they haven't been over in weeks." She took a fretful sip. "You saw'm? They're alright?"
Kingsley nodded sympathetically. "They are quite well. Perhaps they've been feeling a bit under the weather? I'm sorry to say I didn't enquire, simply made sure they are all right. Perhaps tomorrow they'll be up for visiting." And once again, he smiled, hoping to reassure the lady sitting across from him -- possibly beginning to suffer from the beginning stages of some sort of dementia. The thought made him slightly sad, thinking of his own mother, suffering through the same trials.
She nodded, fingers shaking slightly as they brought cup up to her lips for another sip. "Didn't occur to Jimmy and me to send word to aurors. Neighbors call you lot out, then? Glad, I am. Good to know they're alright." The returned smile was feeble and brought the wrinkles and papery cheeks and brows into an endearing crinkle, another world almost from the rapid-fire occurring beneath. All she could hope was that Alecto wouldn't choose the next half hour to burst in complaining about the locals.
Something stopped him from mentioning that the Bones' daughter had insisted that her parents be contacted. Instead, he nodded at the assumption of the neighbours. "Often it doesn't. Don't hesitate to contact us if you need anything, though, Mrs Loge. Sometimes one can't be too cautious." He rose, then, extending one large hand for hers to shake gently. "I really should be going, must prepare my report. Thank you for your information, however. If you see anything out of the ordinary, do contact me."
"Oh, will do, sir, will do." Her little hand quivered in his as well-hidden disgust and hatred spilled through weak tendons and sinew. "You have a lovely ev'nin' sir." She nodded him all the way to the door.
And once outside, he took a glance to the heavens and then Disapparated with a crack. Despite the wealth of concern from neighbours, it wasn't until he was outside the Loge household that he realised that something didn't fit right. A lot of things everywhere didn't fit right. He'd have to speak with Robards about some sort of watch here, but knew it wouldn't happen. This wasn't a high-priority location. Perhaps a word to Remus, then. Perhaps, perhaps. All they had was perhaps.
And back inward did that small creature disappear, moving through doors and halls into the very depths of the house until she was at its dank core. Something wasn't right, to be sure, and the pure hatred smeared across those delicate, worn features made it clear precisely -what- that wasn't right. Things were now complicated.