WHO: Sourav Kartik and a Snatcher (kindly npced by Chel) WHAT: Sourav makes a new friend! WHEN: 2nd, early evening. WHERE: Outside Ottery st. Catchpole. WARNINGS: Mild violence, snark, snobbery.
Hogsmeade had Dementors. Diagon, the Wandless. And while Sourav didn’t have anything against them as individuals, their helplessness exacerbated his sense of his own, which brought with it a degree of resentfulness towards their presence, which made him feel guilty, which made him feel more resentful—so best to just avoid the mess as much as he could. He wished that Gemma could do the same for Hogsmeade, but well, she worked there.
So tonight he found himself at a market near Ottery St. Catchpole, turning over a plump tomato in one gloved hand (‘organic,’ in his mind, sometimes meant ‘dirty’—you never truly knew where things had been). “This doesn’t look exactly a beguiling shade of red,” he opined to the vendor.
“Supermarkets chemically enhance their produce,” the man explained, locking his hands together behind his flannel clad middle. “That’s what gives them their uniform presence. Ours-”
“Part of the enjoyment of food is its presentation, yes?” Sourav cut in. “This looks somewhat flavourless, and I need something with more of a burst to it for my risotto. If you’ll excuse me…”
He left, feeling the dark look the man had shot at his departing back, but not exactly minding it. Well, not really.
Not until, of course, a pair of scuffed boots impeded his way. The young lady within said boots wasn’t an Ottery St. Catchpole local, but originally from Dublin. She too was resentful of this new job. Resentful that she couldn’t catch a decent break in the shithole that Britain had become. Resentful that all of these privileged arse cadets had all this ideology while she and her Mum went hungry every night. Nobody really understood need.
Especially not this git with his tomato issue. She cleared her throat.
“Say. Ain’t your Mum a Muggleborn?”
“Halfblood,” he corrected briskly, which was still a deal politer than no, but I bet yours is part-troll. This had been amended because (a) he wasn’t feeling quite that suicidal, quite this early in the week (b) he had then considered that such a response may be a tad insulting towards trolls. Still, his dark eyes as they slid up from her old boots to her face held an expression that was less than complimentary.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he added, and made to step around her.
“No, no. You’ll not be going anywhere. I still have me some questions!” She sidestepped, getting in front of him again. That confrontational training really did pay off dividends.
“Then it’s your cousin, innit? Dan. Dan from Darbyshire, right? Look, if you don’t know about the questions I’m asking you, then I’m just gonna have to take you in.”
“I do-” began Sourav, then visibly bit down on his annoyance “-know the answers to the questions, only one of which you’ve given me a chance to respond to. They just don’t happen to be answers that will get you a pay cheque. My name is Sourav Kartik. I am a halfblood, as are both my parents, which means that any cousins I may or may not are also halfbloods. And really,” he finished with a rush of irritation, “do I look like I have a cousin called Dan from Darbyshire?”
“Hey, I’m not the one to judge anybody. I’m just bringing in potential undesirables and the more you talk the more I keep thinkin’ you got something to hide. You’re so angry …” She took out her wand, a thick and squat stump of walnut, then flourished it at him.
“We’re just gonna go down to the Ministry and have us a talk with Madam Umbridge, okay?”
Sourav shot her a level look. He was familiar enough with bullies to know when to not stand his ground. Which was most of the time. “Of course,” he began, “but I do have the necessary papers in my bag. If you’re to bring in every halfblood, well, that seems a waste of time and Ministry resources to me.” Movements slow and deliberate, he began to reach into his bag.
“You don’t get to tell me what’s right and what’s wrong. That can hit harassment real quick!” She knew her laws. She was taught!
But her wand was quick, despite her efforts to seem anything else otherwise. Sourav was met with a hex to the chest as she moved in and tried to grab him round the wrist. Maybe even a night spent waiting for Ministry lackeys to interview him meant that they could look something up.