Omni (omni_sama) wrote in lupin_snape, @ 2010-09-24 01:52:00 |
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Entry tags: | fic: pg |
Fic: As a Raven's Wing (1/?; PG)
Title:As a Raven's Wing
Chapter: 1: "The Case"
Author: Omni (rip_von_christ on lj)
Rating: PG (for this chapter...later chapters will vary)
Warnings: Can be considered crack (though not the whacky sort), blatant and not-so-blatant comic book knock-offs, unbetaed
Prompts: Batman, costumes (by zhyn and azurerosa in chat, respectively)
Summary: Munin is a mysterious figure. A brilliant mind, he assists the Aurors on occasion, especially when dealing with the odder cases. No one knows who he really is, though. They only know him as the man in black flowing robes and a raven mask.
Word Count: 902
Note: Magical AU. Pretty much take the HP world, but remove the actual HP stories and replace them with tales like you'd see in the pages of a comic book.
Head Auror Kinglsey Shacklebolt stood on the roof of the Ministry building and tilted his head back to look at the cloudy night sky. Taking a steadying breath, he withdrew his wand and swished it about in a tight, intricate pattern. No streams of light erupted from the tip, not even a spark. Up above, however, the clouds flickered with lightening the moment his arm stopped. For an instant, there seemed to be a particular shape amongst the clouds, a stark shadow cast by the erratic light.
The figure of a raven, wings outstretched.
He watched the play of light for a minute or so, waiting. Listening. The unnatural light had no accompanying thunder, so he thought surely this time he’d be able to hear—
“You called?” drawled a deep voice from the shadows beside him.
Shacklebolt clenched his muscles in an effort not to jump, and he slowly turned to face the newcomer. “How come I never hear you apparate?”
The shadowy man’s mouth was the only visible feature, and it drew tight in a smirk. “I can’t imagine you summoned me out here to discuss magical theory.”
“No.” Shacklebolt sobered and dared a step closer. “There’s been a few…incidents.”
“Aren’t there always.”
“This is different. We know it’s not the usual suspects.”
That seemed to get the shadowed man’s attention. “What’s happened, exactly?” And Shacklebolt knew that by “exactly,” the man meant exactly.
“That’s the thing—we don’t know.” Before the shadowed man could start in, Shacklebolt raised a hand. “Peter Parkinson was found dead. No discernable cause. It wasn’t a curse, not even the killing curse. All the mediwizards and witches can figure out is that his heart just…stopped.”
“Perhaps he simply had a heart attack.” His tone and the frown on his lips were clear indicators that the shadowed man was not impressed.
“Right, certainly we’ve considered that. But, the look on his face. It-well, here.” Withdrawing a photo from his robe pocket, he held it up and cast a faint lumos to make it easier to see.
When the man stepped closer, he seemed to bring the shadows with him. Every inch of his body was covered in fabric so black it seemed no light could touch it. His wizarding robes were long and flowing, with an intentional tattered quality towards the ends which made them look almost like feathers. His hood was always pulled up, casting his face in perpetual shadow. Not that it would matter, since the upper half of his face was also shrouded away beneath a black mask. The mask was like something from an old Victorian masquerade, complete with scowling eyes and a long beak nose.
He took the photo from Shacklebolt with a black-gloved hand, and squinted at the image in the low light. Due to the inactivity of the subject, it could almost pass as a muggle snap-shot. All that was depicted was Parkinson’s face, forever frozen in a look of panicked fear. The dark man had seen that expression before—that look of absolute terror.
“And you don’t think Death Mask is behind this?” he murmured in question. Such an expression was almost always brought about by Tom Riddle—Death Mask, as he’d come to be called. Mad, murderous Tom. With a sneer, he handed the photo back.
“Might have. If it wasn’t for the next victim.” Ah, that seemed to get the dark man’s attention. Shacklebolt stuffed the photo away and shook out his light. “Lucius Malfoy.”
There was a barely perceptible pause. “Dead?”
“No. He was lucky. Or unlucky. However you see it. Sedated to near oblivion on calming draughts. The man was raving and crying and clawing at his own skin when we found him. Insisted he had to get the bugs out. That they were inside of him.”
“Lovely. You think the two incidents are related. Why?”
“Their wardrobes were open.”
The shadowy man gave Shacklebolt a flat stare, and then pointedly started to turn away. With a little tch, the Auror reached out just shy of actually grabbing the other man’s arm. “Just come and examine the scenes for yourself. You’ll see. There’s something…similar to the both of them. Similar magic or something, I don’t know. It’s hard to put my finger on it, but I know they’re connected, and I know it has something to do with the open wardrobes. Think about it—what causes absolute terror and skulks in places like wardrobes?”
“Are you suggesting a boggart is behind it?” the shadowed man scoffed.
“No. I’m suggesting that someone wants us to think it’s something like a boggart.” When it still didn’t look as though the man was convinced, Shacklebolt withdrew his hand and shoved it into his robe pocket. “This one has us truly stumped, Munin. We’ve no clue. We could really use your help.”
Munin paused, considering. “Both men were found at their homes?”
Shacklebolt had to bite back his smirk, and he kept his face serious and professional as he gave a nod. “In the master bedroom. No one else was home at the time either incident took place.”
“Fine. I’ll see what your men have neglected to notice.”
“Need the addresses?” Shacklebolt asked, looking down to withdraw a small notepad from his robes. When he looked back up, Munin was gone. Cursing under his breath, he shook his head and turned to leave. “How does he do that?”
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To be continued...
Chapter 2
Chapter 3