Aberforth Dumbledore - he knows everything (theoldgoat) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2008-05-25 15:21:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! [1979-05] may, ! npc, aberforth dumbledore, agnes o'hare |
Who: Aberforth Dumbledore, Agnes O'Hare, Rhisiart Masterson (NPC), Aknot (NPC), Marcus Rutherford (NPC)
When: 24 May 1979, Late at night
Where: The Hog's Head
What: Agnes finds out a few things about her employer.
Rating: PG
Status: Complete
Aberforth leaned against the bar and watched the few customers left in the bar. It had been busy earlier in the evening but now the crowd had died off a fair bit and those left were mostly drowning themselves in their drinks. Aberforth wasn't overly concerned about them; he was keeping an eye out for his friends, most especially Rhisiart. He'd had a rather uninformative owl from the vampire earlier in the day telling him that he was coming in tonight. He'd tapped a vein before the rush got to great and had the goblet sitting under a stasis charm at the back of the bar, ready and waiting. He didn't give a damn what Rhisiart said.
The door opened and Aberforth gave a sigh of relief when he saw not only Rhisiart but also Marcus and Aknot saunter in. The three cronies headed for their usual booth, giving Aberforth nods or grins as was their wont. Abe returned their greetings with a nod of his own and quickly poured or in Rhisiart's case, retrieved, their drinks. He warded the bar to prevent anyone except himself or Agnes from getting behind it and put the glasses and goblets on a tray before heading over to the booth.
"Gentlemen," he said with a sly smile as he slid the drinks in front of their respective drinkers and sat down with his own mug of ale.
Rhisiart looked down at his goblet with a vaguely disapproving look. "Aberforth."
"Don't start with me, Rhisiart," Aberforth said sternly. "You've been out of contact for far too long."
Rhisiart sighed as the other two snickered. "You are incorrigible."
"That's what you like about me," Aberforth said smugly.
Rhisiart rolled his eyes and Marcus and Aknot laughed. "He's got you there, you old blood sucker," Aknot said with a toothy grin.
Rhisiart sniffed and sipped at the fresh blood, pretending to ignore the lot of them.
Aberforth grinned and looked over at Marcus and Aknot. "Alright. I know why Rhisiart is here. What about you two?"
Marcus grinned, a strange look on his burned face. "Business."
"Good business," Aknot added with an identical grin.
"Good," Aberforth said with a grin. "Rhisiart first then you two."
Rhisiart sighed and looked frustrated. "Not much to report, I'm afraid. They're being very secretive and wary. I'll keep trying though. Greyback is definitely up to something."
Aberforth grimaced and nodded. "Thank you." He knew better than to push the vampire. If there was something to report, Rhisiart would say it. He turned to the other two and arched an eyebrow. "Well?"
Aknot grinned and pulled a small pouch out of his robes. He opened it and pulled out five rings with various stones and placed them on the bar. "Check them and you'll see why we're so damn pleased with ourselves."
Aberforth gave them both a long look then picked up the first of the rings.
Minding her own business was something Agnes was relatively good at - if by relatively good one meant that she could mind her own business so long as no one else's business came into earshot. And unfortunately, it was her employer's business that piqued her attentions as she scrubbed down a few tables near the booth that three very strange looking men and one vaguely normal looking Aberforth traipsed into. Maybe eye-shot was a slightly better descriptor for Agnes's respect of peoples' privacy. She moved in closer, steaming bucket of water in hand (magical cleaning made the hags nervous) and rested it down upon a table top where she could hear a bit better. Cleaning wasn't exactly noisy work, so she didn't feel especially bad about eavesdropping - after all, she thought to herself - she could have been cleaning this table from the start and she wouldn't have been able to not hear them if she wanted to.
Oh yes, loads of logic, this one had. She attempted not to appear utterly without subtlety and thus refrained from turning and staring vapidly at whatever had been set upon the table, but part of her burned to know exactly what was going on.
Aberforth held the first of the rings up to the dim light in the pub. It was a silver ring... silver or white gold... with a sapphire set into it. He arched an eyebrow as he nudged it magically and felt the wards on it. Silencing charm and a shielding charm. Very interesting and he wondered what anyone would want with that combination.
"Where did you get this?" he asked.
"You will ask me no questions and I will tell you no lies," Aknot intoned pompously causing Marcus to snicker.
Aberforth eyed his friends with wry amusement. "Ah, more of that then, eh?"
"Don't know what you're talking about," Marcus said innocently.
"Of course you don't," Rhisiart said dryly then he looked mildly amused and arched an elegant eyebrow. "I see you have a new employee, Abe."
Aberforth's gaze flickered momentarily over to Agnes and he smothered a grin. He knew his pub and he knew exactly how far sound carried from these booths. His first thought was to put up a ward to keep their conversation private but he quickly dismissed that. It was probably a good idea for Agnes to know what went on in his pub and she might as well meet his friends while she was at it. They were regulars after all.
"Mmm, yes," he said as he put the first ring down and picked up the second, a gold ring with a garnet. "Agnes O'Hare. What she lacks in subtlety, she makes up for in spirit." He turned and gave Agnes an amused look. "Might as well pull up a chair, girl. You should get to know these three reprobates."
Agnes gave what might have been an abashed expression over her should - at least it would have been if she wasn't grinning with mixed embarrassment and delight. Spirit! Yep, she was full of that, and wasn't it nice of him to notice? "Sorry, I ain't exactly blessed in the art of keepin' to m'self." The water slopped all over the table she was cleaning as she tossed the rag back into it, but she barely noticed over the excitement of being invited into the conversation, and focused more on dragging over a chair (upon which she straddled backwards and rested her chin).
"Nice to meet ya." And she stuck her hand out at the nearest one, making a firm mental note that weird looking people deserved friendliness all the same as everyone else. It was a bit hard not to peer intently at them all, curious as she was, so she made do with 'keeping eye contact' which was what friendly people did in her parts. Her fingers were small but she had a firm enough grip for a shrimp of a girl. "What's all this then?"
Marcus shook Agnes' hand with a look of amusement on his burned face. "Marcus Rutherford. The short fat one is Aknot and the priss over there is Rhisiart Masterson."
"Watch who you're calling fat, idiot," Aknot said with a grin that revealed his teeth the he leaned forward and nodded to Agnes. "Nice to meet you."
Rhisiart simply rolled his eyes at the antics of his friends. "Good evening," he said with an elegant nod to Agnes. "And this would be Aberforth, Marcus and Aknot indulging in illegal activities."
"It's not illegal to buy and sell goods," Aberforth said with amusement as he finished his examination of the ring.
"It is illegal to buy and sell stolen goods," Rhisiart countered dryly.
"Now I don't know they're stolen, do I?" Aberforth said with an innocent expression. "I don't ask, I just buy and sell. Not my place to ask. I'm just a barman at a pub."
Rhisiart snorted, amusement gleaming in his eyes. "Semantics."
"I love semantics," Aberforth said smugly. "Semantics make me good money."
Agnes chipmunk grin grew wider at the introductions and she rested her chin upon the chair spine, peering over the bunch. Chubby-man looked interesting if a bit ... rough, and she felt sorry for Marcus already with his bizarre burns, but Rhisiart. Rhisiart was interesting. A bit pretty for her tastes, and a bit off, but at the same time rather interesting - appealing in a wrong sort of way. She couldn't describe it, and let her eyes linger on him longer than was necessary.
The idea that Aberforth was a crook, though - she wasn't sure how to take that at all. He seemed so extraordinarily like his brother in some ways, but in others - they couldn't have been more different men. She rather liked it. Abe was more approachable, even if he seemed gruff on the surface. And unlike Edgar, he didn't treat her like a bloody child all the damn time. Who cared what was legal and illegal anyway? The ministry was a bunch of right prats, and stealing from the rich - which she assumed, of course, this was - wasn't wrong in her book.
"Upstandin' blokes like you, what you hangin' out with a miscreant like this for?" She grinned wickedly up at Aberforth (and it was a long way up).
Aberforth leaned back in his seat and laughed as Marcus and Aknot exchanged comical looks. Rhisiart saw this and covered his eyes with one hand, giving a theatrical sigh.
"Oh dear," the vampire murmured.
"Did you hear that, Aknot? We're upstanding," Marcus said, pretending to wipe a proud tear from his eye. "I don't think I've ever been called upstanding before. I'm touched."
"Touched is one way of putting it," Rhisiart said dryly. "Touched in the head."
"Hey, I don't want to be upstanding," Aknot said, pretending to be indignant. "I'm the black sheep of my family and damn proud of it."
"We're all black sheep in our own ways," Aberforth said dryly. He grinned at Agnes. "Why do you think we all get along so well?"
"Ain't that the truth," Marcus said with feeling. He took a long drink of his beer and looked at Agnes. "We're four of a kind really even if we are pretty different."
"Different?" Aknot said with a laugh. "We wouldn't have met if not for this pub."
"No, no, Aberforth and I met years ago when he was just a callow youth," Rhisiart said with sudden amusement. He then turned to Agnes and arched an eyebrow. "I got him drunk and slept with him."
Aberforth had taken a mouthful of his ale and he nearly spewed it out at Rhisiart's comment as Marcus and Aknot howled with laughter. As it was he choked for a moment and the vampire had to whack him on the back a few times. Aberforth took a deep breath and sniffed a few times to clear his throat and nose before turning a laughing look on the vampire.
"You always have to put it that way, don't you?"
"I woke up with you draped half over me... snoring," Rhisiart said dryly. "So, yes, I do."
Agnes giggled her way through most of this conversation and shook her head at the camaraderie between this unlikely bunch of suspects. She was already warming up to them - if not because they were so unabashedly criminal (but in a more comical way than someone like, say, Dung) then because they seemed to be comfortable sorts of people - comfortable with each other, comfortable with her, comfortable with the world at large (or this small portion of it here in the pub). She felt free to grin when she was amused and gasp at the idea of Aberforth sleeping with a - was he a vampire? Agnes had been right crap at the written portions of DADA - and cackling loudly along with the men as Aberforth choked on his beer.
With a waggle of her eyebrows in Aberforth's direction, Agnes remarked, with faux-solemnity: "Well, sir, if you's ever in need've a good pillow, I knows a few black sheep you can pass out on. Unless, 'course, Mr Rhisiart here gets jealous easy-like."
Aberforth laughed heartily as Aknot and Marcus poked fun at him and Rhisiart shook his head at the lot of them.
"Now there's an offer I haven't had for a while," Aberforth said with a roguish grin. "Not that I got any fun out of Rhisiart that night. He sleeps like the undead."
Marcus and Aknot choked on their drinks and started laughing hard enough to have tears flowing from their eyes. Rhisiart gave Aberforth a look of exasperated amusement and shook his head before looking over at Agnes.
"I am surrounded by very bad, very amateur comedians," he said with droll dryness. "Since Aberforth wouldn't even think to tell you and I don't know whether you've worked it out, I am a vampire. Your blood supply is, however, perfectly safe from me. I make other arrangements."
"And Abe taps a vein for him every time he comes to the Hog's Head," Aknot added with a grin. "Much to Rhisiart's irritation."
"I don't get irritated," Rhisiart corrected mendaciously. "It's just not necessary."
"Any man who comes here deserves a drink," Abe said staunchly. "And where else am I going to get the blood? My pub, my decision, my blood."
Rhisiart snorted and then smiled. "You really are quite irritating, Abe."
"Thank you," Aberforth said calmly. "I've been working on it for decades."
"Makes sense," replied Agnes airily, pulling out her wand long enough to conjure herself up a bit of bread and cheese from behind the counter (it was nice to be lazy once in a while - if one could really call magic 'lazy', but maybe she'd been living too long among muggles to feel normal using magic for everyday things). Tearing a bit of cheese up and pushing it between her lips, she took a minute to study Rhisiart, using chewing as an excuse not to say anything - because whatever she might have said would probably have been along the lines of 'yugh.' Drinking Aberforth's blood? Not that she was prejudiced - not much anyway - but vampirism still turned her stomach. She did think it was a bit sweet that Abe shared. She might've done the same thing. Though, with a second glance at Rhisiart, she supposed that it might have taken some getting used to first.
"I's only worked here a week and I already know better than to argue, Mister." Agnes grinned. "I'd offer up somma mine, but I dunno how vampires feel about contact high." She giggled to herself and felt her arm. She didn't think she had enough blood in her to make a proper meal (and laughing about the idea seemed to make it less repugnant somehow). "How's you get it regularly, if you don't mind me stickin' my nose where it ain't wanted?"
"Doesn't affect us but it's bad enough that Abe donates his. I won't accept yours," Rhisiart said with an idle wave of his hand. "I do drink wine and would be perfectly happy to do so here but Abe, the idiot, won't have a bar of it." He smiled, a slightly cool, even a touch cruel gesture. "I hunt murderers and rapists and pedophiles. Their blood is just as good as anyone else's and I find I like the sense of justice I feel when attacking them."
"Urgh, you're going to put me off my beer," Aknot said with a grimace. "I love you like a brother, priss, but I really don't need to know about your feeding habits."
"The feeling is mutual," Rhisiart said dryly. "I've seen you eat after all. Though eat if probably not the right word. Devouring, ravening..."
"Stuffing his gob," Marcus finished with a look of patently false innocent mischief.
Aberforth laughed; he had been keeping an subtle eye on Agnes after Rhisiart's revelation, remembering how she'd reacted to learning about Remus' condition, and he now relaxed since she'd reacted better than he'd feared. "Like you're any better," he said to Marcus. He then picked up one of the rings he hadn't yet examined. "So back to business for a moment. How much are you two planning on gouging out of me for this lot?"
Aknot leaned back in his seat and shrugged. "Sell 'em and pay us half. I know you'll get a better price than anyone else we could take 'em to."
Marcus nodded his agreement. "You going to end up handing any of them over to your brother?"
Aberforth shook his head. "They're all pretty harmless. Give me a few weeks to sell them gradually. I don't want to flood the market, so to speak."
Agnes was trying - in her own, somewhat small minded attempting to be open minded product of her upbringing sort of way. She didn't blame him for his life circumstance (she didn't actually know how vampires came to be or anything like that) and it wasn't nearly as much of a shock as finding out Remus's ... well... 'condition.' It was more the mechanics of it all, what with him sitting and actually drinking her boss's blood, that made her insides twist and writhe.
But. Rapists and murderers - she couldn't exactly feel sorry for that lot, could she? "Any death eaters? Might have to kiss you if you eats one of them." Bitter wasn't the least of it. But she piped down while they did their business, and she ate her bread, watching Aberforth with mixed curiosity and amusement. He was quite a bloke, wasn't he? She knew he wasn't exactly proper - I mean, look at the pub he owned - but she didn't exactly expect downright criminality from her headmaster's brother, now did she?
She was finding she quite liked it.
Rhisiart took a sip from his goblet as he contemplated Agnes' question. "Not that I know of. I don't target them specifically because I can't tell the difference between a Death Eater and an ordinary pureblood." He snorted and looked mildly amused. "Besides on the whole, I find the Death Eaters to be small fry. Certainly nothing compared to those Grindelwald drew to him nor anything like Voldemort."
Aberforth scowled. "Voldemort considers himself the next Grindelwald."
Rhisiart rolled his eyes. "He's not even close." He paused and gave Aberforth an almost gentle look. "You are biased, my friend. Never forget that."
Aberforth snorted and waved a hand dismissively. "I think Gellert Grindelwald was a murdering idiot. I'm hardly biased in thinking that. But I'll agree that Voldemort hasn't reached Gellert's level. Yet."
Rhisiart considered that for a moment. "True enough. Though..." He hesitated then shook his head. "No, I will not borrow trouble."
Marcus snorted. "Yeah, there's enough going around for free. You don't need to borrow any."
A sharp pang of anger twisted through Agnes momentarily, but she fed it a bit of cheese and remained silent. It hardly did to get in an argument with one's employer's friends, particularly when one was a vampire and another had intriguingly sharp teeth. But she didn't think it mattered whether Death Eaters were small fry or not compared to whatever other idiots ran around in history, and as she swallowed her cheese, she said so, in a small, dully calm voice. "Does it matter how small they is compared to Grindelwald? They's still killin' and ruinin' lives." More bread, more cheese, as though they might suffocate the shrapnel of fury, but Agnes was no longer hungry.
Rhisiart arched an eyebrow. "You humans do that as par for the course. You're always killing each other and ruining each other's lives. The Death Eaters are just marginally more organised than the usual run of murderer and criminal. Humans have never valued life." He snorted and took another sip from his goblet. "I did much the same when I was still alive."
"Thank you for that grim assessment, priss," Marcus said dryly. "But you know, we're supposed to try and stay ahead of the whole killing and murdering thing and even, you know, try and stop it."
"Yeah, isn't that what you're doing for Abe right now?" Aknot added.
"No, that's personal," Rhisiart replied. "The younger generation of vampires has no taste or sense and I want to know what they're up to."
"Not to stop them?" Aberforth asked.
Rhisiart shook his head. "That's not likely to happen. They won't listen to me but if I know what they're doing, I can tell you and I can tell the other older vampires. Most of them will leave most likely. Head to Europe. You know they won't get involved. It's largely human business."
Aberforth nodded; he'd been around vampires and other so-called Dark creatures to know when they would and wouldn't get involved with human affairs. He arched an eyebrow at Aknot. "And the goblins?"
Aknot rolled his eyes. "I'm not likely to know. That side of the family doesn't talk to me. I'm not interested in business... well, their idea of business anyway... so I'm a severe disappointment and not to be taken seriously." He shrugged. "But I doubt the goblins will get involved with Voldemort."
Aberforth grunted and took a long drink of his ale. "Well, that's something anyway. Can I get you to check in on Eddie?"
Aknot nodded and rolled his eyes. "Yeah. He's got information, has he?"
"Apparently," Aberforth said dryly. "Though whether it's worth anything is anyone's guess."
Agnes felt vaguely humbled at the admonishment, though protest burned within her - wasn't it important to fight, as Marcus said, to be someone who wasn't like everyone else? To try and stop the murderers and sadists? The vampire'd said himself that he felt some small justice in killing the morally decrepit, so why not the death eaters? Why not people who believed that hate and prejudice and genocide were good? Why not them?
But she said nothing, picking at her food instead and simply listening. She had no questions because it would imply an understanding of what they were talking about and she had none. Younger vampires? Goblins? What would You-know-who want with goblins and vampires? And who was Eddie? Agnes's eyes slipped upward to peruse Aberforth's wrinkled face. "What?" As though a few consonants and one badly rounded, lower-class vowel was enough to express her hundreds of questions.
Aberforth chuckled and gave Agnes a look of wicked amusement. "Deeper waters than you expected, eh?" He leaned back in his seat and took a long swallow of his ale. "I do more than run a pub and dabble in the black market, Agnes. I do work for my brother, I guard secrets, I dabble in a little espionage and sabotage now and then and I indulge in a little personal equality." He gestured to the rest of the pub. "No one gets turned away here, no matter who or what they are, including non-humans and Death Eaters."
Marcus gave a low, sly chuckle. "That's because you've got more than half the pub riddled with eavesdropping charms and can therefore listen into whatever conversation you want to."
Aberforth smirked and looked smug. "Why do you think I let the place look like it is? People look around here and they expect what they see. They certainly don't expect anything more."
"It still looks like a tip," Rhisiart said with long-suffering amusement. "I wear my worst clothes when I come here."
The three men laughed uproariously. Rhisiart was wearing quite elaborate and elegant clothing, complete with a silk shirt and velvet brocade jacket.
"If you keep that up, I'm going to give you a close personal introduction to my goat," Aberforth warned though it was obvious that the threat was not at all serious.
Agnes slipped back into an easy smile and let the undercurrent of anger spill away. It was easier than she'd thought it would be, letting go, and she gave Aberforth a bit of a smack. "Right rogue you are, aincha?" Eavesdropping charms? She probably oughtn't pass that bit along to Severus, lest he get even more twitchy than he already was. It wasn't like he'd say anything of particular interest to Abe anyway.
"Aw it ain't so bad in here." She glanced around. Dirty, sure, but that was natural, wasn't it? Just as cozy as the commune back home, if filled with slightly unfriendlier people. About the same sort of clothing, though, and she laughed at Rhisiart's pompous frock. He seemed nice enough, if a little... what was the word. Other worldly?
"I have my moments," Aberforth said with amusement. "Much to my brother's eternal dismay. However he knows better than to interfere."
Snickers came from the direction of Marcus and Aknot and even Rhisiart looked amused. Aberforth shot them a quelling look though he still looked amused. Instead he affected a smug look which he directed at Rhisiart.
"There you go."
Rhisiart sighed. "I am surrounded by Philistines."
"You could go to the Three Broomsticks," Aknot said slyly.
Rhisiart shuddered. "You know my opinions on that place."
"Then this is it in Hogsmeade," Marcus said with a laugh. "Admit it, priss. You like it here because no one recoils from you and no one takes you overly seriously."
Rhisiart pretended to consider it. "Perhaps," he conceded. "I will admit that our meeting was a fortuitous one, Abe."
Aberforth chuckled. "Merlin, that was a long time ago." He shot a quick grin at Agnes. "I was all of twenty-five. Just back from Germany where I'd been trying to track down Gellert and I nearly got chomped on by a rogue werewolf. Ran into an abandoned house and found priss there. He plied me with wine and good conversation then dragged me down to his bed. Didn't even have his wicked way with me. Though the hangover was impressive."
"Impressive is not the word I would have used," Rhisiart said with a roll of his eyes. "You were like a grouchy old bear until I went out and found a hangover potion for you."
"Twenty five? Didn't know magical history went back that far." And with a cheeky grin, Agnes returned to chewing on her lunch. It was a funny thing, trying to imagine a young Aberforth. She wondered what color his hair was originally. Blonde? No, she bet he was a ginger.
"So did he - er..." she glanced from Abe to Rhisiart, and made a pointing motion at her own neck. "Did you uh. You know. Nibble?" Or maybe that was what he meant by wicked way. Agnes's first thought had been to sex, of course, but she wasn't sure old people even knew what gay was. Did they? She wasn't about to broach that subject, was she?
"Cheeky," Aberforth said with amusement. "I'm old, not ancient. I only feel ancient on occasion."
"Yeah, usually after late nights with us," Marcus said with a grin.
Rhisiart arched an eyebrow, ignoring the byplay and focusing on Agnes. "No, I did not. I'd given up... nibbling on random people long before that day." He shot a rather amused look at Aberforth. "I did end up with him wrapped around me though, which startled me a little. Your subconscious is a very interesting place, Abe."
Aberforth snorted then laughed. "Yeah, well, you smelled good and it was damn cold down in that basement. Despite the fact you're dead, you were a damn site better than curling up on my own."
Rhisiart affected a hurt expression. "I'm wounded. Here I thought I meant more to you than just being a substitute for a teddy bear."
Aberforth rolled his eyes. "Yes, dear, I'm actually madly in love with you. Let's run away and set up house in the Bahamas..." He smirked. "Oh wait... no, we'd better not do that. You wouldn't last the day and I'd have to sweep the dust up."
Agnes blinked a bit, fingers holding the last bit of cheese, which was stalled upon the table. Aberforth snuggled up with a vampire? Like, for real? In a bed? With a man?
"Are you gay, boss?" Agnes's voice was a mixture of incredulity and admiration, and she was ignoring the rest of the table. She probably could have phrased it better, but Agnes wasn't exactly the height of subtlety and her curiosity knew very few bounds.
Aberforth snorted and arched an eyebrow. He'd already worked out shortly after she started working for him that subtlety wasn't Agnes' strong suit but from the sudden snorts and choked sounds from his friends, they were only just coming to that realisation for themselves.
"I like men and women," he said plainly then he shrugged. "Never seen any reason to restrict myself and anyway... I judge by what a person is, not what their gender is." He looked amused. "Would have gotten me arrested a while back. Not that that stopped anyone."
"Invert," Rhisiart said with amusement.
"Invert is the old word for gay," Aberforth said with a wave of his hand. "I'm not gay, I'm... open to all experiences."
The sporfles didn't bother her much - Agnes was used to startling people (in fact, in some ways she rather liked it), and she rarely could summon the energy to feel bashful about the questions she asked - after all, if they embarrassed her, that was all the more reason to ask. Driving away inhibitions and all that. Aberforth's frankness only endeared him to her further, and she gave him a rather large smile. "Groovy." The sexual revolution was something that spoke deeply to Agnes (to everyone's consternation), and she was always delighted to meet someone who'd thrown off the 'decent' shackles of society and revelled in their own being. She admired Aberforth a lot - and this revelation made Agnes admire him only that much more. "It's nice you's in touch with yourself. Pride is freedom, innit?"
Aberforth leaned back in his seat and cocked his head to one side as he thought. "Never thought about it too much." He shrugged. "It was never something considered unusual in my family all things considered." He knew that was partly because of his brother's proclivities and partly because both his parents were dead or incarcerated by the time he was 16. Even prior to that his mother's concentration had mostly been on Ariana. It wasn't like he'd had much education on what was 'right' or 'proper' when he was younger.
He shook his head. "Never spoke about it too much except among the few people I trust. Wasn't exactly an accepted thing until recently. Hell, you could get arrested or stuck in an institution." He snorted. "Not that I cared about that. I sleep with who I sleep with. Never seen a reason to make a fuss over it."
Rhisiart patted Aberforth on the shoulder. "You've always moved in more... permissive circles than most."
"Ain't even that accepted now. Yet." Agnes corrected herself firmly. "Hell if you's talkin' to pureblood twats they can't even wrap their heads round regular fucking." Letting a shrug roll off her shoulders, she borrowed a sip of Aberforth's ale and got comfortable in her chair.
"So what's them jewellery then?" She slid her fingers outward and gestured at the baubles on the table. Abe had mentioned something about magic, she thought - or at least that's what she'd overheard. Where'd they been nicked from? Don't ask don't tell - and she wouldn't, but that couldn't keep her from being a little bit curious, now, could it?
"Better than it was," Aberforth said with a shrug. "Won't end up like Oscar Wilde anyway."
"You met him, didn't you?" Aknot said with interest.
A wicked look crossed Aberforth's face briefly then he pretended to look innocent. "Yeah, once or twice."
There were snickers from the other three men. "You got him into trouble, didn't you?" Rhisiart said dryly.
Aberforth shook his head and chuckled. "No, not me. He did that well enough on his own. He never could keep his mouth shut or his preferences hidden. Not that I fault him for the second but there is a time and place and sometimes there is a need for discretion. Oscar never understood that, the flamboyant little idiot."
He shook his head and turned the conversation in the direction Agnes had suggested, more than willing to leave his own preferences alone for a while. He ran a hand over the top of the rings and grinned slightly.
"Just a few pretty pieces Marcus and Aknot... er, found," he said. "Four of them have spells of varying types on them. They'll sell well. I should be able to get a good price for all five." He suddenly laughed, remembering his visitor for not that long ago. "Oh, you lot will like this. You'll never guess who I had come swanning into my pub, trying to blend in and failing miserably."
"Well?" Aknot said impatiently. "You said we'd never guess, so tell us."
Aberforth chuckled then got himself under control long enough to say, "Gilderoy Lockhart."
Agnes dropped Abe's mug - which was convenient lest she drink all of someone else's ale - "Gilderoy Lockhart. Was in here? Was he lost? Was he stoned?" The idea of Gilderoy Lockhart stepping foot into this pub was a bit too much, and she collapsed into helpless giggles before Abe could even answer. "Was he done up? Was he wearing purple?" She cackled helplessly. "Where did he stand? Did the dirt migrate away?"
Aberforth laughed along with Agnes. He couldn't help it; the idea of Gilderoy Lockhart in his pub was just too ridiculous and yet it had happened. "Oh no, he was here on purpose," he said with a mischievous grin. All dressed in black and convinced he was blending in." He laughed. "He was blending is about as well as I would at one of those pureblood soirees."
"What did he want?" Aknot said, looking amused and baffled.
"Protection," Aberforth replied. "He wanted a warded pendant. He took that black pearl one that I've had hanging around here forever and a day. He paid 55 galleons for it."
Marcus and Aknot choked on their drinks while Rhisiart raised an eyebrow. "How much did you pay for it?" the vampire asked.
"Just over 30," Aberforth said with a chuckle. "Made a very tidy profit."
"Protection?" Agnes asked incredulously. "What does that idiot need protection from? I can't imagine no one who would bother killin him. Plus he's got ever so pretty a smile." She fluttered her eyelashes and propped her chin atop two fervently clasped hands... before gagging. Gilderoy Lockhart was about as far from her type as a dog - not including Sirius, of course. But she couldn't help but wonder - his articles had always seemed sort of purist oriented (one of the reasons she thought he was a worthless prat) - so who would want to kill him? The order might have thought he was an idiot, but they didn't go around killing people (unfortunately).
"I have no idea," Aberforth said, still chuckling. "But he certainly thought he was in danger. He came in about two weeks after the attack in Diagon Alley. There were a few other attacks not long after that. He'd obviously gotten himself all worked up thinking he was going to be next." He snorted derisively. "Merlin only know why. He's essentially usless. His death wouldn't have any effect except on the silly young girls who sigh over him."
"That was remarkably cynical of you," Aknot said with amusement.
"You disagree?" Abe said with a raised eyebrow.
Aknot laughed. "Nope The man's useless. Very pretty but useless."
"He must be good for something," Marcus said with mock-seriousness.
"Yes, laughing at," Aberforth replied with a grin. He glanced around at everyone's glasses and arched an eyebrow at Agnes. "Care to go and get refills for the lot of us, including yourself." He grinned. "But you can leave Rhisiart out of it. He gets cranky if I tap a vein twice on one night."
"Aye boss!" Agnes saluted and scooped up everyone's glasses, winking at Rhisiart. "Red wine instead?" And off she went at his affirmation to the bar, grabbing a tray from beneath the counter (Aberforth had had to move some things because, frankly, she couldn't reach half the things in the pub without a step ladder or an accio) and setting the mugs and glasses atop it. She grabbed a fresh mug for herself and filled it with mead, then another with ale for Aberforth. Aknot and Marcus. What the hell had they been drinking? She smelled their glasses unabashedly and then filled them with the same. The wine was one of those things that were tragically out of reach, and she slid the tray to the counter and hoisted up her stepladder instead, shuffling through bottles until finding one that was a particularly chipper shade of green. Uncorking it unceremoniously in her teeth, she poured a glass full and left the bottle on the counter. She could put it back later.
"Alright, then!" Agnes had enough experience in a bar not to slosh their very full drinks all over, despite the careless way she slid them toward each man, and, content with her own ability, she slouched back in her seat, tankard of mead quite enough to keep her happy for a while.
"Where did you find that one?" Marcus asked with amusement once Agnes had headed over to the bar.
"Oh, here and there," Aberforth said innocently.
"She's with that lot, is she?" Rhisiart said dryly. "Your brother's lot."
Aberforth nodded. "Yes, she's one of my brother's hotheads."
Aknot laughed coarsely. "Do you include yourself in that description?"
"Most of the time but I haven't been as bad as that lot in years," Aberforth replied, looking amused. "I at least do think a bit before I do something reckless these days. Mostly because I don't heal as well as I used to."
"That's the problem when you get older," Aknot said sententiously. "The mind improves but the body starts to fall apart."
Aberforth was chuckling over that when Agnes returned with their drinks. He saluted the young woman with his mug of ale and took a long drink. This would be the last one he had tonight. He didn't mind having a drink or two but he was always careful to keep his wits about him. There weren't many people left in the pub but that didn't mean much. Abe had seen people go from nearly falling asleep in their beer to almost murderous rage in less time than it took to stand up. He'd learned a few tricks in the years he'd been running the pub, mostly out of necessity.
"Thank you, my dear," Rhisiart said, sipping carefully at the wine then nodding his approval. "You do keep some excellent vintages for such a disreputable pub, Abe."
"Keeps you quiet, priss," Aberforth said smartly, much to the amusement of Aknot and Marcus.
The former leaned forward and eyed Agnes curiously. "So what prompted you to want to work here? Abe's scintillating personality?"
Agnes took a long drink of her ale and curled her knees up against the table. She was almost ridiculously small compared to both her chair and the mug she was holding - it was like a little elf slurping out of a grown-up cup. "Death Eaters is trying to kill me," she said blandly, though a flicker of apprehension pulsed through her fingers, which gripped the mug tightly, turning knuckles white and fingertips red at the effort. It was so easy to say, to be flippant about it, but she would never forget the look on her father's face as he buried her mother. There was no forgetting what had been inflicted upon them. Upon her. Her eyes drifted a minute, but she pulled a smile up by the corners of her mouth and winked at Aberforth, "and Abe's bar is the sturdiest around, yeah?" Though if they came for her, she sure as fuck would not be hiding behind a bar. If she was going to die, she'd take at least one out with her. But that thought was for another time and place - these men were hardly the type for a sober conversation. Nor, for that matter, was Agnes.
Aknot arched an eyebrow and his eyes flickered down to where Agnes' hands were wrapped around her mug. He then exchanged glances with the other three men, finally settling on Aberforth. For his part Abe just gave a single small nod to confirm what Agnes had said but didn't elaborate.
"Sturdiest is one way of putting it," Marcus said blandly. "How long have you been layering wards around this place. The walls must be saturated with them."
"Been a while," Abe said with a shrug and wink at Agnes. "The Death Eaters aren't the only ones to target family members of those who annoy them and Merlin knows my brother's been running around annoying people for decades." He paused and gave a rather wicked grin. "So have I for that matter. So it works well for both cases."
"In other words, woe betide the Death Eater who tries to attack this place," Aknot intoned seriously before chuckling. "They'll get very nasty surprises."
"Not the least of which lives out in a pen in the yard," Rhisiart said dryly, a statement that prompted gales of laughter from the other three men.
"You're just put out because she doesn't like you," Abe said between laughs. "Not her fault. She's an opinionated thing. She just doesn't like the undead."
"Or half-goblins," Aknot said as dryly as Rhisiart had. "She's got a sharp bite, Abe."
It was easy to smile around this lot, and Agnes let herself do so more freely, loosening her vice-grip on her mug and wrinkling her nose up at Abe. She was glad she'd asked to work here - she felt a whole lot safer here than locked up in a bloody flat, hiding and barely daring to peer out the windows. "Plus someone's got to keep this old goat company," she cackled affectionately. "Don't know what sort of dodgy blokes will come in looking for a drink." And with a poignant stare at her company, she hid a burble of laughter behind her cup. This was enjoyable - a group of strange misfits in a dirty bar. This is how life was meant to be - this and her commune. One day she'd have both. One day this would all be over. Meanwhile she'd peer over Abe's shoulder (or under his arm, more likely) as he indulged in his shady dealings. It was quite fun, and Agnes had no moral objections to stealing from the rich. "Can this sort of shit be put in any ring or does you have to find special pieces." Not to drag the conversation back to something useful, or anything.
The four men laughed at Agnes' sally and Aknot leaned forward and wagged a finger at Rhisiart. "You're officially dodgy now."
"Nonsense," the vampire said with great dignity though there was a gleam of humour in his eyes. "You three are dodgy. I am merely... out of place." He arched an eyebrow at Abe. "Though I do agree that you could do with a little company here. You spend far too much time alone."
"Pot, kettle, black," Abe said dryly.
"Ah but vampires are supposed to do that solitary brooding thing," Rhisiart said, looking amused. "Living, breathing humans are not. Though I suppose you could avoid my chiding if you went and saw your brother more often. It's not like you have far to go."
Aberforth snorted derisively and scowled before taking a long drink from his ale. "I'd rather spend time with Agnes. She speaks sense."
The three men chuckled but let the subject drop. They all knew of the past between the two brothers and while they did poke every now and then, they knew well enough when to back off. A grouchy, growling Aberforth was not something they liked to be responsible for.
Aberfoth looked down at the rings and shrugged, letting go of the irritation that appeared every time Albus' name was mentioned. "Any piece of jewellery can be used but some will take spells easier than others and some will take more than others. Basically the better the quality of the metal and the stone, the more it can take in the way of spells and the stronger the spells can be. A really good quality diamond can take up to five spells depending on how big it is."
"Sense? Me. You ain't gettin' senile, I hope," Agnes teased, dipping her fingers into her mead and licking the tips of them mindlessly. She'd always liked to play with her food - moreso when she was high, but ... details. A tinge of colour rose to her cheeks, however, and her dimples deepened before she was drawn back to the conversation. It was a pity about the quality thing - naturally it meant poor folks couldn't do much in the way of jewellery protection, didn't it? "You know you could probably make a fair bitta coin if you took a bunch of naff copper and made protectives outta it. You won't get nuffink like 50 galleons, but you'd get a shitload of people rushin' to the market. Specially if it ain't licensed by the ministry."
"You speak more sense than Albus most of the time," Aberforth said slightly sourly. "Mind you, you could probably walk the long term spell damage ward at St Mungos and get more sense than you get out of Albus most of the time." He shut his mouth abruptly. He knew his opinion on Albus differed greatly from the majority opinion but then he was one of the few who knew all of Albus' history, not just the stuff that got lauded from the rooftops. It irritated him sometimes, how people thought his brother was a saint. He wasn't. He was just a man and he sure as hell had flaws.
"Yeah, I know but the copper would have to be damn good quality to take a spell that would make it worth using," he replied thoughtfully. "And getting that quality copper at a decent price isn't exactly easy."
"Fabric takes spells well," Marcus said with a small frown. "What about some kind of embroidered symbol or something then just put it in a small glass-faced pendant? That'd be a damn sight cheaper and you could get all sorts of symbols made from the abstract to the meaningful. Nobody would take a second look at them since they just look like cheap junk jewellery."
Aberforth raised an eyebrow. "Got any kind of contacts that could get their hands on that sort of thing?"
Marcus tilted his head back and chewed on his lip as he thought. "Maybe. Let me ask around and see what I can come up with."
"Might just be able to get my hands on some cheap silver stuff," Aknot contributed. "Won't take spells well but if this stuff you've been hearing about werewolves is right then it might be of some use. Won't be enough to kill 'em but jam a silver trinket on their nose or face or any other part of them you can reach and you might be able to distract them enough to apparate away."
"It's a thought," Aberforth replied. "Let me know what you can do and if we can get any of this going, I'll get word to the people I know who frequent the markets. They can act as go-betweens with those who are likely to sell that sort of thing."
Agnes felt an instant sort of relief. What was this? People taking her ideas seriously? Was the sky falling? "I got a whole neighbourhood o'folks who'd be interested if they was cheap enough. They ain't got much but they'd prob'ly pitch in so's to get enough for the kids at least. Maybe more. "Specially round my old gaff." Her lips pressed tight a minute and then she raised their eyebrows. "Got some friends with mouths big as mine who'd like it too, though I ain't sure it'd to us too much good against no killin' spell. HA."
"You think sommat like hemp'd take magic? I got a whole mess of it what I make bracelets and shit out of." She held up a wrist, from which hung an intricate macramé wristlet. "Can put beads 'n shit on it too, so maybe small amounts of somethin' expensive for people who can pay more? Idunno, but it might help some."
Aberforth arched an eyebrow as he looked at the bracelet around Agnes' wrist. "Hemp won't take spells worth a damn but good quality wood will. Painted wood beads wouldn't be too expensive though some of the hardwoods would be the best for it."
"I've got a friend who likes to whittle," Marcus offered. "He lives near a fairly large forest. There'd be hardwood trees in there. We're talking oak and beech type trees, right? Well, I'm sure he could easily whittle beads. They'd be child's play compared what he usually does."
"The beads could easily be strung on stuff other than just hemp," Aknot said diffidently. "Strips of leather for example. You could do bracelets and necklaces that way. The necklaces could even have more than one bead on them with different spells on the beads."
Aberforth nodded. "The beads won't take the strongest spells but they'd be enough for protection against the initial attack, especially if it's a surprise. Then hopefully they'd have the good sense to get the hell out of there."
"Bang up plan!" Agnes chirped agreeably. "Anything I can do to help 'sides sittin' around lookin' pretty?" She laughed, rubbing a few fingers across her decorated wrist (and the mug in her lap wobbled dangerously on its precarious perch). These would be brilliant. She could advertise on Resistance Radio, and make Sirius and James buy a heap to give away to poor folks. It was better than just sitting around on their asses and watching defenceless idiots getting pulverised. Plus, she could stack up on some - because, after all, she was in genuine danger of being turned into a corpse.
"Find other places to sell the things," Aberforth replied. "I have contacts at some of the major markets and a couple of the minor ones but not all of them. And if there are shops you know would take them either officially or under the counter, have a word with them as well. But make sure you emphasise that these aren't to be replacements for being sensible. Better to avoid the spells entirely."
"Can't always be avoided," Marcus said quietly.
"I know but there are things that can be done to minimise the risk," Aberforth replied. "Warding houses for a start. Not wandering around alone at night. Not wandering around alone at any time if you're in one of the more dubious areas. Not antagonising the bastards or if you do, do it anonymously so they don't know who's doing it." He arched an eyebrow at Agnes though there was a compassionate expression on his face. "That's the mistake you and those cronies of yours made. You did it openly and turned yourselves into targets. The Death Eaters aren't stupid. They keep their identities hidden, which makes it damn hard to nail them down. We need to start taking a leaf out of their book on that score. If they don't know who we are, they can't retaliate."
He shook his head and grimaced. "Besides I still say we're concentrating on the wrong target. If you want to kill a snake you chop of its head. Getting Voldemort should be our main aim."
"If you could find him," Aknot pointed out.
Aberforth sighed. Yeah, I know. Bastard's got himself dug in somewhere and damned if I can find out where. I wish we had someone in their organisation."
"That'd be damn dangerous for whoever that was," Rhisiart said calmly. "Though I agree it would be enormously valuable. Though it would depend on how the Death eaters are organised. You would definitely want someone fairly high up the hierarchy."
"Pipe dream at the moment, I'd say," Aberforth grumbled. "Unfortunately."
This was venturing into a realm that Agnes didn't have much footing in. Trickery and suspicion and double-agenting and cunning. She hadn't the head for any of it. Punch someone in the nose and she was fine with it - pretend to be their friend while poisoning their drink? Couldn't work out the mechanics. But she'd leave that up to those with a mind for treachery, and meanwhile she could do precisely what Abe suggested and keep her head low while looking for others to sell to. As for killing you-know-who? Ideal but who the fuck would even be able to if they found him? Agnes was scared shitless of the idea of coming face to face with him, and she doubted even Dumbledore -- no, she didn't want to finish that thought. Dumbledore was the greatest wizard who'd ever lived. 'Cept maybe Merlin. But she was getting side-tracked. "Yeah, I can do that," she replied, feeling a bit awkward for not commenting on the latter half of the conversation but knowing she'd have nothing sensible to add. "The uh. The shop thing, I mean." Just in case there was any miscommunication.
"Good," Aberforth said, dragging the conversation away from the inevitable direction it always seemed to take when the four of them turned their attention to the current troubles. "Anything we can do to get a bit more protection out there will be worth it. And I can certainly absorb the initial losses given what i make with the rest of my business, both legitimate and otherwise."
Raised voices on the other side of the large room caught Abe's attention and he looked over to see two men arguing, mostly quietly but every now and then their voices rose to a volume that could be heard. Aberforths' eyes narrowed as he watched them trying to judge whether he should interfere or not. One of the men suddenly threw his hands in the air and slumped down in his seat, shaking his head with obvious disapproval. The other man shrugged and looked slightly smug but whatever was going on seemed to be over.
"Quiet night tonight?" Rhisiart asked quietly.
"Yeah," Aberforth replied. "It's been very quiet recently. You're right, you know. Something is definitely up with the werewolves. Some of my regulars haven't been in of late. And the ones that are missing are usually the troublemakers."
"I'll make a bit more of an effort," Rhisiart said with a nod as he took a sip of his wine. "Try a couple of other groups of vampires."
"Thank you," Aberforth replied. "But just... be careful, will you? I don't have that many friends that I'm willing to lose one."
Rhisiart chuckled. "Even though I like telling embarrassing stories about you. I'm touched."
Agnes almost opened her mouth to ask if vampires could really die but it seemed the sort of blatantly insensitive question that even she knew she shouldn't ask. Finishing off another few mouthfuls of mead, she cocked her head to look at Aberforth. Werewolves. "Werewolves? What's goin' on with the -- oh bugger," she tilted her head as the door open, letting in a brisk evening breeze and a small group of rowdy (and young) looking idiots. "Tell me later, yeah? Nice to meet you blokes. Don't go doin' nothing I wouldn't do." And she winked, laughed, and dumped herself out of her chair and onto her feet. "Oi, you lot! - you even old enough to be in here?" And Agnes was gone into the fracas.