frankily (frankily) wrote in spoilersrpg, @ 2016-07-07 10:18:00 |
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~ The Diagon Alley patrol wasn't exactly what Frank had expected. So far it had involved a lot of interrogating street sellers about their wares, tracking down anyone peddling fake protective amulets, and then having to find everyone they'd sold to and get the things back off them, which was often harder than dealing with the peddlers themselves. At least it was something to distract from McManara, who Frank was realising was actually the dullest man he'd ever met. And Frank wasn't exactly the most extroverted person in the Department. By the end of the first week he missed Alice like he would have missed an arm. By the time each shift was over in the second week, he wanted nothing more than to get home. He gave McManara the bag of dodgy amulets to process - since he seemed to enjoy that sort of thing more than anything else - and as the sun started going down over London, made his own way back from Knockturn to Diagon Alley. Knockturn Alley was a generally dingy place, but just as he was passing through the dodgiest part, where the walls were pitted with goblin signs, and gutters tinged slightly pink with drained potions, he heard a commotion coming from a side alley. Immediately snapping into Auror mode, he pulled his wand and headed to the source. There were five or six wizards gathered around something on the ground, laughing and shoving at each other for kicking room. "Good evening, gentlemen," Frank said, stepping into the entrance to the alley, pulling aside a fold in his robe to reveal his badge. "Having a bit of a party are we?" Most of the gang turned to look at him, though a couple stayed to get a few extra kicks in to what Frank could now see was another young man, curled up on the ground. "Yeah, that's right," one of the attackers grunted. "None of your business, mister." "I'm afraid I beg to differ." Frank raised his wand. "Go home, the lot of you." The first man grinned nastily, as the others formed a wall behind him. "Or what, copper?" Frank raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid I'm rather ignorant when it comes to Muggle slang," he said calmly. "Would you enlighten me?" The man spat. "Yeah I bet. Purebloods. Don't give a shit about people with any Muggle blood. We're the ones dying. You could be one of them Death Eaters." "I asked you politely to go home, and leave this man alone," Frank said, an edge of danger in his voice now. "Or would you prefer to stay and be arrested?" "Death Eater!" one of the others yelled, absurdly. "Get him!" Frank sighed. As the first one launched himself toward him, Frank stepped aside and dealt a Stunner that would have the man's head aching for weeks. And then it was pandemonium, all of them on him at once. He was doing rather well, he thought, against five armed opponents, and he managed to take three more down. Then one of them stepped on the edge of his cloak, and he went down with a painful crash onto the cobbles, his head bouncing off one of them. He rolled to one side but he couldn't quite manage to get up; his legs didn't want to hold his weight and when he tried to aim his wand he saw double. "Get back," he warned, as they advanced on him. "Get... back..." |