charity burbage MIGHT be looking up again. (mugglemethis) wrote in find_horcruxes, @ 2009-07-26 18:42:00 |
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Entry tags: | charity burbage, nicholas harrow |
RP Log: Charity, Nick
Who: Charity Burbage, Nick Harrow
When: Last Sunday after the attack on Diagon
Where: Leaky Cauldron
What: Nick and Charity meet.
Rating: G
"Happy now?" Nina demanded. Nina Marcos was a petite, slim-waisted, and exceedingly dainty witch, but Nicholas Harrow had always been a little afraid of her, anyway. Nina had been his volunteer personal assistant for VRA projects for three years now, and although he was in all technicality her boss, Nina had a clear-sighted, bossy way about her that tended to keep him using his "please"'s and "thank you"'s. And currently, Nina didn't want him out here in the silent swirls of dust and high-pitched chatter that characterized Diagon Alley in the hours after the Death Eater attack. "I'm not out here as a personal affront to you," Nick reminded her as he scanned the thin crowd for any sort of clue that the wizards might have missed. They might have had their magic, but he had over four-hundred years of experience, not to mention all sorts of interestingly sensitive senses. Perhaps he might help in the investigation. "I'm here to offer my assistance to those who might need it." "Shouldn't be out here," Nina grumbled, her eyes bouncing from shadow to shadow. "It's not safe. And I don't mean because of the Death Eaters. I mean because of the people looking for someone convenient to blame." "Mmmm." Nick leaned over a patch of blood, slicking his fingers with it and squinting as he tried to figure out the trajectory of wound. This hadn't been a civilian wound; he would bet his un-life on it, and-- "EARTH TO NICHOLAS HARROW. Stop looking creepy!" Nina swatted him and glared. "The Aurors have this under control! Do you know how much paperwork you have waiting for you to sign?!" "You can go home to your husband, you know." Nick resisted the urge to eat the evidence. "I've only got a few more minutes worth of peering." Nina threw her hands up in the air. "Fine! Fine! But if I come to work tomorrow and you're a pile of ashes, I told you so. In advance." But before she apparated away, she peered into the shadowy doorway of the Leaky Cauldron. "Civilians, in there. If you must play detective." "Thanks," he said, but she'd already popped away. Getting to his feet, he walked inside the Leaky Cauldron and took a seat next to a pretty, if dazed looking witch. It would have simply been a Very Long Day had the Death Eaters not attacked, had they not gone after her charges (and herself). Instead, it turned out to be a Very Long and Unhappy Day. A day which demanded a drink and a smoke, in a place where, should she get the urge to talk to anyone, she could talk about what happened that day. She knew it was probably safer to stick to a Cardiff pub, where no one would have the foggiest idea what was going on, but then she knew she'd be completely alone. Aside from asking Tom, the barkeep, for a drink, Charity had not uttered a word and was five seconds from heading to a pub in Cardiff. If she wasn't going to talk, then there really was no point for her to endanger herself. Doc would be upset with her for being so careless, especially after the Order had come in, wands blasting. Charity had conveniently forgotten to tell the Aurors that her ex-husband and some of her friends had been there. No sense taking them off the streets, after all. Charity removed a cigarette and tossed the pack on the counter as she rummaged around for a lighter. A heavy body plopped down on a stool next to her, and she realised that it would be easier just to grab her sodding wand and light it that way. Pulling it from the inside of her robes, she gaped at the way it shook in her grip. "Allow me." Nick's lighter wasn't as exotic as a wand, but it sure was old. It looked like it had been through a battle or two itself; its shiny metal casing was dented in odd places, but it nonetheless set light to the end of Charity's cigarette. Nick's smile was small, but not unkind. "You were here when it happened, weren't you? And I apologise; I'm being rude." He inclined his head. "My name is Nick." Nick liked talking to people. Not that the subject he was about to launch into was all that much fun, but... he'd take what he could get. "You could say that," Charity answered. Another way of putting it was that she was on the chopping block, and so were all the kids and their parents that she helped and had helped through the years. "Charity... Burbage. I'd say it was nice to meet you, but I'm kind of..." Instead of telling him how she felt, she sort of waved her hand in front of her face as if to say she wasn't quite all there. "I'm not usually this out of it, so I hope you'll forgive me for it." "No, no. Don't be sorry for a thing; I understand completely." And he might have, once upon a time. Unfortunately one of the downsides of living so long was that you got a little too used to compartmentalizing when these things happened. Nick only saw them now as problems needing to be solved, but still his voice was gentle as he asked: "Would you mind terribly if I might ask you some questions regarding what happened here?" The side of his mouth worked up. "Please tell me to sod off if you're not up to it. I'm just trying to figure out some particulars of what happened here, today." To be quite frank, Charity really didn't want to answer anymore questions. She'd had it up to hear with questions, but it wasn't until then that she really looked at her... guest. She volunteered some times with the VRA, and so Charity knew exactly what a vampire was supposed to look like. With a cocked eyebrow, she said, "Depends on if you're going to get some sort of sick kick out of blood spilled. If you are, I don't have any intention of indulging you, and before you go thinking I'm against vampire rights, you should know I volunteer part-time for the VRA so it's not because I don't like vampires. I just don't like people who get off on little kids being hurt for no reason." Oh, she knew the Death Eaters had their reason, but it was a stupid one in Charity's book. Nick had been concerned that the lady with the sad eyes was too overwhelmed to speak. Apparently the thought that she might have an entire monologue up her sleeve - and a somewhat ballsy one at that, considering she obviously knew him for what he was - hadn't occurred to him. "I'm only asking because I am trying to lend a hand to the investigation that is undergoing," he spoke carefully, and he wondered if her face was familiar. No, he eventually decided. For whatever reason, he'd never met her, although her words about volunteering with the VRA had a ring of truth about them. "It's a common fact that while there is suspicion as to who could be responsible for the attacks, we have no specific names. I get a sick kick out of blood spilled if it's useful. All blood tells secrets." Charity almost blurted out a damning question: are you in the Order of the Phoenix? Thankfully, her better senses kicked in, and she opted for the safer, albeit sarcastic, route. "You work with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?" It was fairly rhetorical; the Ministry would never work with a vampire. She grabbed her drink, letting her wrist hover before she pulled the glass to her lips. "It was the Death Eaters. They always wear masks. Kind of hard to figure out who is who when they wear masks. And they went after a bunch of Muggle-born children. What kind of sick sods do they have to be to go after children?" "No. But I hear the DMLE is always open to anonymous tips." Nick's smirk was tight, but proud. Let whoever take the credit for it. He was just glad to get trash off the street. "Going after children." Nick wished for a drink. Rosmerta stocked all sorts of interesting drinks for her vampire clientele at the Three Broomsticks, but the Leaky Cauldron had yet to catch on. "So that leaves two sorts of people involved: people who are pure sadists at heart, and people trying to prove themselves. I'd wager that some of the newer recruits were on the streets, today." "Probably. Probably their big day to prove themselves, considering a few of them likely just got out of Hogwarts." Charity shrugged, resting her cigarette between her lips. Maybe it was time to pop by Benjy and Doc's place to get more information; they owed her that, she figured. Neither of them would withhold information from her. "Congratulations," she said sourly. "You've proven that you can attack a bunch of kids and scare some Muggles! Kudos to you." "In a way, it's big. I'd imagine it's easy to remember your first day of school... getting books, supplies. It's easy to look at a child and remember when you were that small." Nick let out a long sigh. "The fact that they can remember that - identify with that - well, I imagine that their leader would view it as promising." His eyes rested on her. "Forgive me, you said your last name was Burbage? I suppose we never crossed paths at the VRA. My last name is Harrow." "Ah, the one making all the noise," Charity said, setting her cigarette to rest on the edge of an ashtray. She extended her hand to shake him. "Yeah, I've heard of you. Big publicity bloke and all that." She gave him something resembling a smile. "Either way, I think they're cowards and arses to boot." "Publicity's a necessary evil." He shook her hand, even though the action had always felt unnatural to him. Kissing hands was what he usually associated with politeness. "As for the Death Eaters - they're all that and more. The sooner they can be brought down... well, the better. The victims were children." His expression darkened, but the darkness passed from it as if he'd batted a storm cloud away. Nick was well-used to hiding exactly what he thought as a matter of necessity. "I shall not feel much pity for the perpetrators when they are caught." "After seeing how terrified all those people were today? I'd be happy to lock them away with the Dementors in Azkaban for the rest of their lives." Charity wasn't usually one for such dramatics or even such harsh punishments, but when there were tiny ones involved, all bets were off. Suddenly, she remembered something, and her expression brightened just a little. "You're the one who wrote about that car you want so desperately!" Nick was perfectly inclined to agree with her pronouncement, but her following statement threw him off his tracks. "Yes! Yes, I'm afraid that was me. I've got a terrible weakness for cars," he admitted with a touch of embarrassment. "I'd intended to only write impersonal missives about the VRA when my assistant gave me the journal, but... well, I saw that picture, and I fell in love." Well, now that she knew who he was, and that he had a weakness for cars, she was pretty sure she could answer at least some of his questions. "Easy enough to do," she told him, with a solemn nod of her head. "Especially when the car is as gorgeous as that one was, and now it's my turn to ask for forgiveness. You wanted to ask some questions about today?" "I wanted one thirty years ago when they were first manufactured," he said wistfully, like one might talk about a love that got away. "But the cards simply haven't played out." Upon her question, however, he straightened up and looked more professional. "Yes, please, if it's quite all right. From reports there were about ten Death Eaters that apparated into the square, yes?" Charity nodded, her gaze turning distant as she tried to remember. She'd just retrieved the Lesters from Ollivander's; wands were always the first thing she took the children to see. Most were so impressed with old Mr Ollivander (and their wands) that they were rarely any trouble after that. "Yes, about ten. Possibly a dozen. They apparated in and immediately started blasting curses in the kids directions." With a bitter laugh under her breath, she added, "Some of the parents thought it was a show, something we did for their enjoyment. We don't exactly tell them first thing that there's madmen running around who want to hurt anyone who wasn't born into a magical family." There it was again, that unnamed sadness. "But I'm starting to think I should, despite what the Ministry would or would not have me tell them." "It wouldn't be a lie, that there are terrible things awaiting them." Nick smiled, but it wasn't a pleased smile. Rather, it was wry, as if he smiled because he didn't believe in frowning when upset. "But there are wonderful things, as well. They're almost too young to make that decision for themselves, but no one is old enough to really understand the magnanimity of their life changing." Nick leaned forward. "When they started dispersing... was there a signal? Or just a collective retreat?" "Honestly...?" Charity cringed a little. She was mostly useless, apparently. If there was a signal, she hadn't noticed it -- mostly because she was minding sobbing children and their parents. "By then, I was huddled with a set of parents and a child. I'd been hit with some sort of Stinging Charm that kept hitting me every few moments. It was a little hard to tell what was going on by then. That and I was talking to a few other liaisons to make sure they'd counted up the numbers, to make sure they hadn't... taken any of them." She paused then, looking extremely put out with herself. "Sorry, I'm not much use." "Nonsense. You did your job - you protected those children." Nick's eyes flashed fiercely, but then the expression was gone. "That's what was important. It could have ended a lot more ill." He knew exactly how much worse it might have been, and although he was disheartened by not getting farther in his curiosity, he didn't blame Charity for it. "I'm just bitter that I wasn't there for it," he admitted after a moment. "What's the use of being bloodthirsty if you can't use it on people who deserve it? Not that I'm not in favour of a full trial," he added hastily lest his words be misconstrued, "but I feel entirely useless myself, hiding out in the shadows when my friends are out there." "What good are you if you end up a ball of ash? Best to use your bloodthirstiness when you can." Charity shrugged. She realised then that she'd let her cigarette burn completely to the filter. That was sort of her luck today, wasn't it? For a moment, she thought about pulling another cigarette out of her packet, but thought better of it. She wasn't a chain smoker in the least. "Let me buy you a drink, lest Tom get any ideas about kicking you out." Flagging down the barkeep before Nick could object, she ordered a middle-of-the-way merlot. She didn't have money lying about, obviously. "Thank you." Nick didn't drink much; it was all either tasteless or downright disgusting to his mouth, but he wouldn't protest a gift. When the drink came he nursed it slowly. Nick wasn't quiet by nature, but he didn't know the woman seated next to him all that well, and he wasn't clear on the current social rules of politeness. "It's probably a silly question, but you attended Hogwarts yourself, did you not?" "I did. A long time ago, but I did." Charity seemed to realise her faux pas. Clearly he was older than she was, if he remembered those cars as clearly as he did. Biting her lip, she waved Tom down for another drink of her own, this time firewhiskey. "Well, a long time ago by human standards any way. Did you?" She hadn't seen a wand, but he could be hiding it somewhere on his person. He smiled and shook his head. "No. I was Muggle before all this began." He didn't elaborate on what "all this" was. Nick didn't hide his age, but he didn't really like to go into it unless directly asked, either. Before Charity could object, he slipped a sickle toward the barkeep and took another sip of his merlot. "But I still find the Hogwarts culture fascinating. Never made it to school. A magical one's even better than a real one. Well, not a 'real' one... but you know what I mean." "It's less common, and therefore more interesting." Charity completely understood; that was how it had been for her. She'd been in a Muggle primary before her eleventh birthday. Certainly children dreamed of these things actually being, but to be faced with one. "I'll let you in on a little secret: it was more exciting than I imagined. That's saying quite a lot when you think about it; children have some of the most creative imaginations I've ever seen." Pity the only way she'd get to experience it was helping them along through their Hogwarts days. He smiled in good-natured envy. "One of these days I'll see it," he said with utmost confidence. Nick was determined to get some respect in the wizarding world one way or another. "Until then... I'll have to be satisfied with second-hand accounts and pictures in books." He inclined his glass to hers. "What House were you in? I understand it was very important." Charity had just taken a sip of her whiskey when he'd asked her a question. With a mouthful, she flattened her palm over her mouth to swallow without giving herself the chance of her trying to reply. After all, she did come from an era where it was only polite to answer when someone asked a question. When the burn in her throat subsided enough that she could speak, she piped up finally. "Sorry," she coughed. "Er, Ravenclaw... The only House most people cared about was whether or not you were in Slytherin. Slytherin equals bad, apparently." "Obviously. The path of your moral life can always be plotted by the time you're eleven years old," he answered with evident sarcasm. Nick had never been all that patient with the notion. His 'bad streak' had lasted an approximate liftetime, and yet he'd recovered into being a decent citizen. "Ravenclaw. Is that the smart House...? I apologise. I'm only vaguely familiar with the concepts..." "I don't know if it could be called the Smart House, but it's definitely the one where the students are eager to learn. That doesn't mean you're smart; just means you like to learn new things -- no matter what they are," Charity answered, trying not to cringe. She had no idea how she'd managed to get into Ravenclaw, to be honest. She'd always thought of herself as more of a Hufflepuff, if she was honest with herself. "I think the Houses were originally just supposed to be a way for like-minded students to find others like them, in whatever way. It's been... polluted along the way." "I've heard something about that," Nick agreed in the evasive tone of someone who knew quite a bit about it, but was much too polite to dwell on it. He'd heard the complaints about the Houses, Slytherin in particular, from all sorts. Nick didn't believe that a tendency toward being a close-minded prat had much to do with House so much as family and peers, but he simply didn't know enough about Hogwarts politics to really launch onto the topic. "Perhaps one of those traditions that made more sense in the past than in the present. That's the beauty of social change, though - the ability to change situations that are no longer relevant." "Pretty sure it was meant to encourage people to realise there were people just like them, but in the end, it just causes segregation and pits House against House -- even after you've gotten out of Hogwarts," Charity answered. Politics, to be honest, bored her. She could understand how they worked, but she tended to dismiss the ideas shortly after because there was nothing she could do to change things. "You've never seen Hogwarts? At all? Not even from a distance?" Nick shook his head. "I've been in the Forbidden Forest once or twice, but not enough to get truly close to the castle. The charms, you know - that, and the fact that parents tend to frown very strongly on their little darlings being near the vicinity of a vampire." He shrugged, apparently not taking the judgment personally. "One of these days I'll make it out to Hogwarts. I'm not very worried about what I'm missing, outside of the strictly-academic curiosity." "I think one day, I'd like to teach there. Something I know about, of course -- Muggle studies," Charity said absently. It was just one of those things people said that just came out, and you knew it was true. You never really thought about it, but everything added up to make sense. "If that happens, you can come and show the kids a thing or two." Nick perked up at her admission of what she'd like to teach. "Muggleborn yourself?" he hazarded. It made sense - her comments about being familiar with cars, her own described sense of wonder at seeing Hogwarts for the first time. "I'd like that, should you ever decided to teach. I'll be owling you for that favor now that you've promised it," he gently teased. "The professors there have been there for ages, so I don't even know if I'd get a chance, but I do think I'd like to. Perhaps I should put some sort of intent to apply should the current professor abdicate to Dumbledore..." Charity smiled warmly at Nick, despite the fact that he was a vampire. He had a calming sort of presence, which was nice, given the circumstances of the day. "I think I'll be the one sending you an excited owl. All right! You can come and visit the school now! Never mind that we only talked at the Leaky Cauldron. Once!" Nick laughed. "Sounds like a plan. You invite me to Hogwarts, and I'll bring a bottle of wine so we can celebrate." He pulled out an antique pocket-watch from his pocket, wincing a little as he did so. "As enjoyable as I've found talking with you, I have a VRA engagement to attend in a few moments that I need to floo to. I apologise for leaving so abruptly." He stood, and flashed her a pale smile. "You should stop by the London branch sometime. I can't promise anything glamorous, but we're always needing volunteers." "I usually volunteer for the Welsh branch, but I'll give London a try," Charity answered, not at all put off by him having to run. Fairly usual occurrence in a pub, after all. Nothing out of the ordinary. In the back of her head, she knew she should probably let Doc know she was all right, since he'd probably be worried. Benjy, too. Worry was sort of funny on those two faces. Charity held out her hand to shake his. "It was nice to meet you Nick. Hope to see you some time." Nick's handshake was cold-fingered but strong; he clasped her hand in both of his. "It was pleasant, despite the circumstances. Take care of yourself. I'm sure I'll see you around." Flashing another smile, he pushed in his bar stool and went in search of the floo. He was ten minutes late. Good thing he had the frivolity of his four-hundred year old youth to blame his tardiness on. |