Pepper is the sword-arm of crazy (pickledpepper) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2008-02-25 22:32:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! [1979-02] february, fabian prewett, octavius pepper |
Who: Fabian and Pepper
Where: Knockturn Alley
When: Sunday afternoon, 24 February 1979
What: Pepper is out walking Cleo and Fabian wants information - they're both in the right place.
Rating: PG-13
Status: AIM/Incomplete
Even this late in winter, warm days were rare enough that when one of them hit on a day that Pepper happened to be at home, he liked to take advantage. To that end he'd picked Cleosthenes up and the lizard was now perched on his shoulder, tail draped around his neck for balance as he stepped out into Knockturn Alley. It was slightly odd, a hit wizard living in one of the seediest places in Wizarding Britain, but he and his neighbours had a fairly peaceable agreement - he didn't bother them, and they didn't bother him. There might well have been some advantages to having him there without the risk of random arrests, he supposed; certainly he was well capable of stepping in if someone started causing trouble who shouldn't have been there. Though not everyone could exactly be called friendly, he at least got a few nods of acknowledgment as he walked down the street, glancing in shop windows to see if there was anything interesting looking on sale.
Fabian was making an exchange with a hooded figure on the street, whose grizzled hair stuck out of the fabric. He wasn't certain if the person was a hag, but he'd dealt with hags before. He simply made sure to keep his hands away from their mouths. Some of them, he'd learned, liked to take a snap at unsuspecting creatures. He'd seen a few people on Knockturn with only four fingers on a hand. Her wares today were a specific kind of weed, not unlike the marijuana he'd heard some Muggleborns talking about, and he stuffed them in his pocket after dropping a few sickles in the woman's hand.
He turned, eyeing the shops about him. He thought he'd go in a few today and see what he could pick up about the signs posted all over Diagon. Of course, many of the shops in Knockturn Alley had been Muggleborn-unfriendly long before even Fabian had started frequenting it. He pursed his lips. He had little doubt in his mind that Death Eaters were behind the sudden movement, but it was difficult to prove and he thought any information he could retrieve would be retrieved here, where purists thought it safe to speak because the impure rarely stepped anywhere near this place.
He saw a familiar face, and a familiar dragon. "Pepper!"
At the sound of his name Pepper turned, catching sight of Fabian and raising one hand in a careful wave, making sure not to risk dislodging Cleo. She liked coming outside and riding around with him, but he didn't think she'd much appreciate taking a short drop with a hard landing either way. Giving up on his idle rambles he started to head back the other way, figuring he might as well do with some company that wasn't someone he worked with. "Hullo Fabian. Up to your usual tricks, are you?" Not that he officially knew anything about Fabian's tricks, usual or otherwise. That would be downright irresponsible, him being a Ministry employee and all.
Fabian's mouth pulled up in a grin, and he ran his hand almost nervously through his hair. "Just another day trying to make a living," he said, and his hand dropped heavily to his side. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and quickly lit it, but not before offering a smoke to his companion. Speaking around the cigarette, he peered up at Pepper again. "Out for a walk, then? I don't suppose you're here on business, ever, are you, else your house'd be burned. And that'd be one too many, wouldn't it?" He was, of course, indirectly asking for an insider's view on the Nettles' burning, but he wasn't sure what all Pepper could - or would - give him that way. If he managed to milk enough information, though, he might not even have to go into a shop at all.
"Oh, no, I keep my job and home strictly separate. Makes things... less complicated." He accepted the fag gratefully and took a long drag, breathing in the smoke for a moment. Which, considering the subject matter, was probably sort of topical. He gave a low laugh and waved the hand that held the cigarette vaguely. "God, speaking of fires. Don't see why people can't just use good old A-K, it makes for much nicer crime scenes."
Fabian removed the cigarette from his mouth and flicked the ash on the sidewalk with a sigh that had smoke curling from his lips. He watched it dissipate before he spoke. "Why him, though? I mean, he was a postman. Nettles. Didn't do much of anything, s'far as I know, except touch people's mail." His voice went a little quieter, though not quiet enough to attract attention of people who loved to listen in. "Seems a little too much effort to go through, don't you think, for Death Eaters?" He cast his gaze about, so as not to appear as though he cared that much. This was just the news that was about, really.
There'd been mutterings about the whole thing quite a bit the last couple of days at work, probably more than they needed to be; in Pepper's eyes it was sort of a bit of an open and shut case. "He didn't play nice with the big boys," he shrugged, sounding rather as though it didn't much bother him. He wasn't actually sure whether or not it did. It was really just getting a bit ridiculous now, this whole bloodism thing. "Don't think the big boys like people saying no to them. Don't like to think about other points of view."
"The big boys. Right." Fabian nodded firmly, pressing his lips together around his smoke. "No, I'd imagine they don't. They want the whole playground to themselves." He tucked his hands in his pockets against a sudden cool breeze. "Let's walk," he suggested, turning in the direction he'd found Pepper strolling in. "It's a warm day, but not warm enough to be standing here."
Knockturn Alley was always interesting to look at, and he was silent for a few moments as he eyeballed some of the merchandise. None of it really interested him, at least not in the sense that he wanted any of it. Most of the appeal of being here was simply that most avoided the place, and it was almost like his little secret. "What's that shop you live above again, Pepper?"
Fabian was probably not the only one who felt that way about Knockturn Alley - it had its share of tourists, probably less than places like Hogsmeade. They tended to stand out though, and it was easy for Pepper to identify them and peg in his mind whether or not they posed any kind of threat. Despite the illegal nature of what went on here, he felt sort of protective of the area. "Pub with no name. Most people call it the Crooked Scale on account of the sign outside, unless they call it... you know, the pub." They also specialised in things that could be slipped into drinks, though he didn't volunteer that information.
"Oh, that's right." Fabian tossed his cigarette aside, careful not to upset any of the street's patrons, who probably would not appreciate being lit on fire. "Must get noisy, living above a pub?" His eyes darted to and fro along the street. Fabian was restless, and it showed mostly in that he took up another cigarette.
Chain smoking. Pepper did rather too much of that at times, but for now he was content to just savour this one, blowing the smoke away from Cleo, for all that it mattered. She was already used to living in situations not exactly much like the natural habitat of the bearded dragon. "The rent's bugger all," he commented around the cigarette, "so I put in muffling charms, fire proofing, wards and climate control. Don't go down there much out of respect to the patrons, yeah? But when they're not trying to stab each other with broken bottles they like to talk quiet." There were a group of people ahead of them, two of them looking like they were selling things out of a crate and the third leaning in to address them. Asking questions, probably. He recognised the sellers, but the buyer was wearing long robes that made it hard to notice any kind of feature.
Fabian looked at Pepper peripherally, his mouth twisting oddly. "Quiet, eh? I wonder why that is." He scuffed his shoe along the cobbled path as they walked, which was a habit of his when he was thinking. A small wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows as he looked ahead. The man there was speaking in a whisper, and Fabian noticed that his companions had gone very still and a little pale. He watched as the strange man left them and walked briskly down the street. "Odd sorts, around here," he muttered.
"Very odd." Pepper's eyes were narrowed as he studied the pair, then glanced down the street at the disappearing stranger. He didn't know that he'd get a straight answer out of the two locals, but he wanted to find out what that man wanted. "Come on," he told Fabian, lengthenining his strides to follow after the man, waiting for him to stop again so he could attempt to overhear what he was asking about.
Fabian raised his eyebrows at first, then grinned a little and followed Pepper down the street, trying not to look too much like he was after someone. The man they had their eye on did not stop again for quite some time, and Fabian wondered if they had missed their opportunity. He was silent, as he didn't want to give himself away, especially since the man kept turning his head and looking this way and that. His heart pounded a little, even if he didn't really know what this man was up to. When he finally turned to go into a store, Fabian blinked. "Pepper, he's gone into the pub. Do you think he's going to stab someone with a bottle or talk quiet?"
Hmm. Either of the two would be exceptionally annoying, in Pepper's opinion, though at least the bottle stabbing would be interesting, he supposed. "Probably. Not necessarily. I want to know what he's doing." He took a moment to shake the confidence out of his stance, trying to minimise how noticeable he'd be in the pub, and carefully unwound Cleo's tale from around his neck so he could shift her into his arms. There were some fucking weird people in Knockturn Alley, so he knew having a lizard in there wouldn't draw so very much attention. "I'll just pass him and see if I can pick anything up."
Fabian blinked. "And what'll I do then, Pepper? Honestly, you think you'll be able to pick something up? You're a hitwizard. People know you're a hitwizard." He wasn't certain, exactly, if the patrons of Knockturn read the journals as much - certainly hags wouldn't. He pursed his lips.
"Some of them. They know I almost never arrest anyone here, as well," he pointed out, then sighed. Fabian was probably right, which was really just rather annoying. "Fine. You go and see if you can pick anything up."
Fabian smirked a little at his victory, and put out his cigarette on the ground before brushing past Pepper. He fidgeted with the keys in his pocket for a moment, then entered the dark pub. He drew some attention from nearby patrons and the paranoid. He was quiet and greeted quickly some of the individuals he knew from buying this or that, but his eyes were peering through the dim light and the smoke. After a few minutes, he'd sat alone at a back table. He couldn't seem to find the man anywhere in the cramped pub. Leaving the drink he'd ordered from the bar on his table, he returned to the alley to find Pepper waiting for him. "Must have gone in the back," he told him. He looked up above the pub. "You got pipes?"
Pipes. Good lord. It was like something out of a spy novel for young boys. He took a final drag of his cigarette and tossed it down, grinding it under his heel to put it out and gestured Fabian towards the stairs up to his loft. "Usually try and keep charms on them to block the noise, but there's some air venting that goes down the back of the building. One of the disadvantages of converted living spaces. It's in the back of the bedroom." He pushed the door open, settling Cleo down at the entrance to her tank and smiling a bit as she crawled back in before leading Fabian through the room to the vents and taking off the charms.
Fabian was buzzing with excitement on the inside. This was just like something Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle would do, really. It reminded him of days in Hogwarts with Gideon, although Pepper was not really like Gideon at all. Gideon, for one thing, was better looking. Outwardly, though, he merely kept a small smile on his face and hovered, waiting until Pepper gestured him over and he knelt down, cocking his ear toward the vent and pressing his lips together. Nothing - wait - something? He leaned closer.
The sound from below tended to echo a bit through the piping and come out distorted at the other end. It was incredibly annoying and was one of the main reasons Pepper had decided to just block it all in the first place, but as he tried to sift through it for the underlying voices he realised that it wasn't really so bad as it seemed. There were two people speaking, though he couldn't tell if he recognised either voice. "Sounds like he's looking for someone," he commented to Fabian in a low murmur, pausing to try to make out the name. "Gwythe, was that?"
Fabian nodded curtly, peering down through the vent as if that might help. "Gwythe... Garth? Gareth?" He listened again. "Oh, it's a she. Garesse?" He was silent, then his eyes widened suddenly and he lifted his head, looking over at Pepper and mouthing, "Werewolves?" He frowned, wishing that he could hear more clearly, and ducked his head so that his ear was just about inside the vent.
Rather than lean in, Pepper rocked back on his heels, mulling over the information. A pet werewolf could have been someone talking big, but then again... It mightn't be imprudent to nudge around the office a bit and see if anyone knew anything, because he was not particularly fond of his neighbours getting turned into werewolves. Werewolves made rather poor neighbours at times. Mostly full moon times. Downstairs, it seemed as though the conversation was ending, and he abruptly replaced the spells with a wave of his wand, straightening. "I knew I didn't like that."