WHO: Richenza Selwyn & Rolf Scamander. WHAT: Rolf receives a gift and Richenza is a good friend. :) WHEN: 17 January. WHERE: Knockturn Alley. WARNINGS: Organs.
Better late than never was a thing people said sometimes. Not Richenza usually, but she’d had to gather the organs to scare Rolf with and that took time. Sub-par, hastily gathered organs would hardly make the point she wanted to make, which was that Rolf needed to be fucking careful.
So, better late than never it was. Richenza handed off a smelly burlap sack of various rotting organs to one of her father’s house elves and affixed the artfully messy note to the bag that read ‘What about NOW? G’ in chicken scratch that could’ve belonged to Fenrir Greyback, but didn’t.
“There,” she said, drawing back, looking pleased with herself. “I think that’s enough ambience.” She wrinkled her nose. Perhaps a little too much ambience. “Go next door.” She pointed. “Set that down in front of the door. Spray this.” She handed the house elf a spray bottle that read WEREWOLF MUSK. “Knock, and then leave. Immediately. But quietly.”
Rolf was mildly surprised when someone rapped on the door. It wasn’t Francine (she usually loudly announced her presence), it wasn’t Robinet (he wouldn't want to see him after yesterday), and it likely wasn’t Fergus (he usually hexted first). With the three most likely suspects ruled out, he wandered over to the door with a curious expression. Achilles, perched on his shoulder, was wearing an equally curious expression.
The first thing he noticed was the stench. The smell registered even before he realized there was no one at the door. It smelled like something had died, with not-so-subtle undercurrents of another smell — something vaguely familiar.
There was a sack, though, and despite the alarms caterwauling in his head, he opened it with a few careful flicks of his wand. Rotting organs spilled out of the bag and onto the floor, viscous liquid oozing everywhere. Rolf wasn’t particularly squeamish, but he still made a loud noise of disgust as he immediately recoiled from the doorway, covering his mouth with his hand.
The werewolf musk started to waft under Richenza’s door, overpowering the candle she’d lit to counteract the organs that’d been in her flat first. When she heard Rolf, she decided it was time to investigate. Her features carefully composed, she opened her front door. “Rolf? What’s that sm—” she started to ask as she glanced down. “What on earth?”
“I don’t know,” Rolf admitted, obviously distressed. With a few more flicks of his wand, the organs rolled back into the sack’s opening, leaving a trail of bloody goo. At least poor Richenza won’t have to deal with such an awful sight, he thought to himself. “Someone knocked on my door but there was no one here when I answered. Just all this.”
Richenza pursed her lips and it melted into a little frown as she covered her nose with her hand. She felt a surge of relief, though. He looked upset. “But why?” She tilted a little, rooted to the spot by all the fluids covering the floor. “What did the note say?” she asked, pointing.
“Oh!” Rolf hadn’t noticed the note, but now he was peering over at it with wide eyes. He silently read the note once before he looked back at Richenza, his jaw clenched tight. “It says ‘what about NOW?’ and it’s just signed G.” There was a little pause before he added, “I guess Greyback is making special deliveries now.”
“So he was here?” Richenza wrinkled her nose behind her hand and glanced down the hallway where the stairs were.
Rolf didn’t seem particularly concerned, but he didn’t want to worry Richenza, either. “I think he probably made some lackey do it,” he told her, in an attempt to be comforting. “I’ve not done anything serious enough to warrant a visit from Greyback himself.”
“I hope not,” she said with a little shiver for good measure. “If his lackeys smell this terrible…” She waved her hand in front of her nose a few times. Richenza studied him for a moment before her expression melted into one of concern. “I just really hope he doesn’t come steal you away for his…whatever it is. I don’t think Francine could take it.”
“I really do think Fenrir Greyback has more pressing concerns,” Rolf replied, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. Beneath his bravado, however, was a tremor of concern. Where had these organs come from? He shook it off and offered Richenza a small smile. “Francine’s tougher than she looks. I don’t think you’d bother to flirt with her if she was...you know. Dainty or something.”
“I flirt with people from all walks of life,” Richenza said with an enigmatic smile. She lowered her eyes, mouth twisting in concern as she looked at the organs she’d left on the floor. “But I don’t think Greyback would bother with a delivery if you weren’t a concern at all…”
“I don’t see why he’s concerned with my opinion,” Rolf countered. “I’m nobody important — yet, anyway.”
“Oh, yes, the Scamander name means nothing,” she said with an amused smile.
Frowning, Rolf let his gaze drop down to the sack and note again. Under normal circumstances, this is the sort of thing he would report to the DMLE. But the DMLE was a corrupt organization led by a Death Eater with a manbun, so that wasn’t really an option. Sighing, he waved his wand over the sack and vanished it, but the rotting smell still lingered in the air.
Then: “I’m a Scamander but I’m not a Scamander yet. I’m just the grandson of a Scamander. My opinion shouldn’t matter to someone like Fenrir Greyback.”
Richenza gave Rolf an apologetic frown, her head tilted sympathetically to the side. “It shouldn’t.” It didn’t either. Not that she knew of, anyway. “But the fact remains…” She glanced at the floor and then back up at Rolf. “He’s literally sending you remains.”
Rolf raked a hand through his hair as he made a sound that was not quite a laugh. “That’s a good one.”
With the ghost of a smile, Richenza stepped forward and tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow, tugging him away from the spot where the sack had been. “Let’s go get tea. My treat?”
Rolf flushed and smiled, as he tended to do under the attention of pretty girls. “That sounds really nice,” he admitted, casting one wary look back at the spot in front of his door. “You’re a good friend, Richenza.”