WHO: Hugo Nott WHAT: What to do when your adversary is no more. WHEN: Tuesday 6th February WHERE: Tinworth WARNINGS: None
Tuesday, 6th February.
Hugo scribbled the words in the little notebook. Usually it was a task that he’d leave to his house elf, and if he flipped through the book he’d be able to spot pages and pages from the past eighteen months in the elf’s writing as well as the occasional page of his own.
He pushed the nib of the pen into the page, denting it slightly, before steeling himself to write.
Dull pain, left leg. Increase from previously recorded.
There were many who’d sacrificed for the Dark Lord. He pulled up the leg of his pyjama trousers to his knee, surveying the mottled bruising about his calf. It seemed to have spread down to his ankle. Dark magic could be a terrible thing, and Hugo Nott was no Healer. He could only use slightly less nasty magic to cover the injury when needed. In the daytime his limp helped add to the act of a doddering old man.
Marking increased by around an inch diameter.
Old age wasn’t going to get the better of him. Soon enough Theodore would be home, they could have a serious talk about him taking the mark — if Hugo could ever imagine his son holding an interest in anything that serious. He touched the darkest part of the bruise that had been part of his life since the fight at the Department of Mysteries and winced quietly.
He shut the book and placed it back in the bedside drawer, his eyes lingering upon the smiling photo of his late wife that stood on top of the dresser as he shut the drawer.
He looked up, through the window and gazed at the property that had formerly been Gawain’s, and smiled. They’d had good times, hadn’t they? Hugo had detested him on sight, hated his cat even more so. Found his decor abhorrent, his garden a blight on Hugo’s own. His friendships with the local youth were tedious, his popularity absurd.
But he’d been a good foe. A great one, even. His favourite student, a worthy election victor.
But there were many who’d been sacrificed for the Dark Lord.
Hugo would raise a glass to both Gawain and the Dark Lord that night.