nicholas harrow scares flounder. (nickatnight) wrote in find_horcruxes, @ 2010-04-07 18:22:00 |
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Entry tags: | *death eaters, nicholas harrow |
RP Narrative: Nick Harrow
Who: Nicholas Harrow, his NPC'd VRA secretary Nina Arnaud, and three Dark Army vampires
What: Peter Pettigrew was forced to give up Caer Dubh as an Order safehouse. Three Dark Army vampires pay the offices of the VRA a visit to get an in.
When: [Forward Dated] to 5:30am on April 8th
Where: the old offices of the Vampire Rights Association
Rating: PG-13 for violence and character death
The offices of the defunct Vampire Rights Association had only lost their residents in the last week, but already looked as if they'd been abandoned for years. The weak morning light of sunrise filtered in halfheartedly through the drawn blinds. Nicholas Harrow swiped his narrow fingers over his desk, a thin sheen of dust attracting his attention. They'd been forced to cut their cleaning crew with the first wave of werewolf attacks last fall. He should've seen it then, he thought, when the donations began to drop, when the garlic-laced angry letters first began arriving. But he'd wanted so badly for the VRA to succeed. It had succeeded through the Slaying Laws, and through the war against Grindelwald.
But the war against Voldemort had brought the five-hundred-year old organization to its knees.
He let his hand drop, sighing.
"Oh, don't you start that," came a trembling voice behind him. Nina Arnaud smiled at him, but the gesture was shaky, her eyes red. "I am not crying today. I am going to be packing boxes left and right. Crying is not allowed. But if you get all... that way about it, it's going to be bloody hard to stay positive!"
Nick managed a smile at his secretary. "But just think, Nina," he said, attempting levity, "your hours will improve! No one else but me will ever make you work at three in the morning."
"I've a two-month old," Nina answered dryly. "Three in the morning is the middle of my day. Now come on, then. It's early for me and it's late for you. Russ is getting here at noon to help, and I'd like to be nearly done packing this ghost town up."
"Morgan said she'd help later on, if we're not done. But it's only four offices and the break-room now." Nick picked up a cardboard box and tossed it to her. "We can do it. Not much left, really."
"Stop it!" Nina smacked him. "Don't say things like that. I'm not going to cry! I'll be packing up Ainsley's old office if you need me."
"Sorry," he said, even if he wasn't really sorry. He knew it was childish to want to spread the misery around a little, but for God's sakes. The VRA had been his life for nearly three-hundred years, its founding members fleeing the country rather than stay to fight against the deranged wizard currently terrorizing England. Nick continued to think them cowards, but perhaps - perhaps - there was more sense there than he had previously assessed. He wouldn't have entertained such a thought months ago, but the castle had been awfully quiet after Dorcas's murder.
Nick worked quickly. Nina was a witch who could float and shrink all manners of objects to fit inside her boxes, and Nick had supernatural speed and strength on his side. But they had only been working for fifteen minutes when he heard a series of cracks coming from Ainsley's office where Nina was working. At first he mistook them for gunshots, but then his rational mind caught up with him and he exhaled, knowing it to be the simple sound of apparition. "Russell? You're here awfully ea--"
But he didn't finish the word, sudden realization slamming his throat shut. He could only hear one heartbeat next door, and it belonged to Nina. And it was speeding up.
Voices rose.
"Is that his human bitch?"
"Don't know how he does it. Makes me sick."
"Hey sweetie, what's your name?"
"What are you d- stop it!"
"What's your name, love? Speak up. Don't be shy, now."
"Nina Arnaud. What are you doi-"
Nick bolted into the office with such force that the door slammed off of its hinges, papers from a half-sorted binder scattering like seagulls. Three vampires framed his secretary, blocking her from reaching the wand she'd placed in her jacket pocket on the side table while she'd worked. Nina's eyes were wide but her expression was contained. Nick could hear heartbeat going like a piston, but she kept her breathing steady, lips thin. She trusted him to know what to do, he realized. They'd known each other for nearly a decade now. She'd held her wedding at night, for God's sakes, so that he could attend. Her eyes flicked to his, and she was scared, but she wasn't panicking yet, which was good. Meant that she was still thinking. Meant that they might be able to get out of this.
The three vampires stood still. Enough time for Nick to assess them. All wizarding, for there had been three separate apparition cracks, and no side-alongs. All with fangs out, wands out. Young - he could tell as much from the way they were holding themselves - and cocky as hell, too. Couldn't have been more than one-hundred or so.
Nick took a breath. "What can I help you with?" he asked, his voice quiet, his hand held perfectly still in front of him in a parody of 'stop'. "What do you need? There's no reason for any trouble if you get what you need for your mission."
Because there could be no doubt that they were on a mission. They were wound too tight; their eyes weren't looking at Nina's face, but moving over the vein in her throat.
One of them - a young female, not even twenty by the looks of her - grinned. "Right now, what we need's a pick-me-up."
"Pardon?" he asked, voice measured, not giving them the slightest tremble. He'd given counsel to troubled vampires at one point, and that training was kicking in. Keep eye contact. Remind them of life, of loved ones. Stay calm. "Is there something I can provide? I'm afraid you've visited at a mad time; Nina and I are just putting together moving boxes. It's got us knackered, and she's been up most of the night anyway. New baby. You know how that can be."
The female vampire hesitated over his words, and for a moment, he thought he might've reached her. But she glanced at one of the others - a male, red hair, clearly the leader of this operation - and snapped back into line. The male shook his head and smiled. "I do know how that can be. A pity."
And he grabbed Nina before she could scream, before she could startle even, and his teeth tore into her throat, white hands clutching her jaw, forcing his fangs deep. Nick leaped forward, but the female and the other male met him instead. One blow he ducked, and one hit him square in the chest. It didn't hurt, but it slowed him down and right as he reached Nina, right as he got there, right as her eyes lit up with hope, the redhead removed his fangs and wrenched her head sharply to the side. Nina's spine severed. Bones ground against one another. She was dead with a look of hope on her face.
Her body fell to the floor.
"Pity that her baby''ll be motherless," said the redhead. "I'm afraid I haven't introduced myself. My name's Ethan. This is Sally," he nodded to the girl, "and Demetrius." A nod to the other male. "Very sorry about the mess we made of your secretary, but this is the sort of conversation one has privately, if you catch my drift."
Nick tore his gaze from Nina, mouth dry, hands in fists. They'd cut him off from the door, he realized distantly. When he'd run forward to help Nina, Sally and Demetrius had closed the circle behind him. There was nothing in here to use as a weapon, just a desk, a window, and a few cardboard boxes filled with old paperwork. And they had stakes peeking out of their jacket pockets, just waiting to be used. Not to mention their goddamn wands. All he had were his hands and a simmering rage. Nick ran his tongue over his teeth, feeling fangs there, and for once he didn't bother to hide them. They were past such formalities.
"That was an ill thing," he said, his voice hoarse, shaken. "What is it that you want?"
"Caer Dubh," said Ethan. "I hear from a reliable source that you live there."
Oh no. Nick had always had a good poker-face and he clung to it now. "It's no secret. What of it?"
"You." Ethan took a few leisurely steps and picked up a folder from one of Nina's boxes. "Morgan MacDougal. Angus MacDougal. And all sorts of exciting temporary house guests. The Dark Lord is very interested in this castle and its residents."
They know, he realized. They know it's an Order safe-house.
"We want a party invitation," said Demetrius in a sing-songy voice. "Think we can get it?"
"We'd hate to... force the issue," laughed Sally, her wand out. "But if that's what it takes..."
And all at once, he understood what they were going to do. The Imperius, perhaps. A truth serum to learn of the wards on the castle, to learn more about the Order. Or they even might employ a Polyjuice Potion. There were all manners of spells and perversions that they might use to get him to open the castle up wide, and he knew with a sick realization that they would be killing everyone in the castle. Lydia Townsley, certainly, with her ex-husband and current boyfriend in the Order. Madog and Gwen, if they were around, would make lovely examples. Angus MacDougal, fierce and famous, would be a trophy kill. And Morgan MacDougal would undoubtedly be as unceremoniously dumped in someone's backyard as surely as Dorcas Meadowes had been.
He looked into their eyes and saw nothing human there. There was only excitement and hunger. Nothing that he could appeal to.
And Ethan was taking his wand out. Demetrius was pulling out a vial of clear liquid. Veritaserum. Sally drew closer and raised her own wand, licking her lips.
Nick looked about the room. No weapon. Just the desk, a window, and a few cardboard boxes.
A window.
They'd expected him to run at them. To bully his way forward, and to be overwhelmed by their superior forces. They hadn't expected him to leap backwards, though, and certainly not dig his heels in and run at the window will full force. They recovered quickly, and he heard the crackling of plaster as they cast spells that missed. He hit the window with his weight pressed forward, and the wood gave and he covered his eyes as the glass shattered. And wasn't that a strange thing? He was about to die, he knew, and yet he continued to cover his eyes and face to protect it from the sharp edges of the cascading glass.
And then there was nothing beneath him but a drop and the embrace of warm morning sunlight.
Nick didn't want this. He'd lived four-hundred years and he could've lived another four-hundred quite happily. The human race continued to surprise him, and he'd found so many people that had inspired him along the way. Angus had lived through so many wars that Nick was certain he'd understand, and he hoped to God that Morgan would as well. She'd always been brave, but he'd worried that the world sought to harden her. He hoped she knew how he'd loved her. Fire licked at his skin, but it didn't hurt nearly as much as he'd thought it would. It was as if now that he'd made his decision, he'd been granted a reprieve, as if his God knew that in these last few minutes there was no room for panic or regret.
Nicholas Harrow fell four stories.
Ash hit the ground.