Who: Rabastan Lestrange and Peter Pettigrew What: Raiding the records When: Afternoon of Tuesday 19th March Where: Borgin & Burkes, Knockturn Alley Warnings: Somehow, none. (Rabbit barely even swears wtf)
There was a pawnbroker down Knockturn whose wares contained an awful lot of junk but, Rabbit knew from experience, also the occasional interesting bit of kit that could be acquired on the cheap and with no questions asked. More importantly for today's outing, the shop was on the upper storey and had a window--albeit it cluttered and grimy--with a view of Borgin and Burkes. Made it a good place to wait until old Borgin himself headed off for his daily trip to Gringotts (another bit of information they'd learned from Tairith, along with where best to go hunting for the records), leaving his younger and far less canny clerk to mind things for half an hour.
The pub next door would've worked just as well, of course, but Rabbit rather thought if he'd asked Peter Pettigrew to meet him at the White Wyvern, the kid might've expired. Or been eaten by someone on the way in. Rabbit still wasn't entirely sure about bringing him along on this, might've preferred someone a little steadier, or just to go it alone. But he couldn't deny Peter's particular talents made things easier, and Dol did get a bee in his bonnet about making sure of things, so fine. Here they were. Waiting.
Peter could say beyond a shadow of a doubt that sitting in a mingy old room with Rabastan Lestrange wasn’t on his list of top things he wanted to do. But he figured it could always be worse which is why he was making the best of his situation with a good fag and an occasional glance around the shop they were in.
“So what’s the plan?” he asked because according to the Inner Circle, the Lestranges were supposed to be the ones who came up with these things, being the high and mighty Death Eaters that they were. He was just along for the ride.
Yeah, Rabbit found that whole high-and-mighty(-and-responsible) bit as amusing as the next Death Eater, but here they were. He shrugged, still looking out the window, and said, "I distract the clerk, you slink in and filch the records. Well, copy if you can, but they'll probably be charmed against it." That's how he'd set it up.
Sounded easy enough to Peter. He nodded in general agreement, stubbing out his fag in the window sill they were looking out of. “Should work just fine so long as you don’t offend her with your unending charms.”
He looked down just as he saw Borgin leaving the store and cocked his head at his companion. “Let’s do it.” Looking around to make sure no one was watching, Peter transformed into Wormtail and cast a beady-eyed look up at Rabastan to lead the way.
That was still unnerving and weird every time Rabbit saw it done, but if he flinched at the odd he wouldn't be running with this crowd. Rabbit headed for the stairs down to street level, tipping a wave to the pawnbroker lurking in the dim back of his shop, and holding the door open just a moment longer, for the skitter of ratty claws to come along.
In this corner of wizarding London, no one was going to look twice at a chap with a rat at his heels, though on their way across and down the alley Rabbit did keep an eye out for cats. That'd be an amusing but unproductive complication.
The door to Borgin and Burkes opened with a truly impressive creak; the clerk behind the counter looked up. She had blonde hair pulled back in a severe knot at her nape and her robes were grey, simple and incredibly boring; all of it designed, perhaps, to make her look a little less like a slim wisp of teenage witch. "Good afternoon," she stated. "May I help you?"
Rabbit gave her a grin, which seemed to have no discernible effect, and finally closed the door again behind him (didn't creak going that way; nice charmwork there). "Hoping so," he said cheerfully. "You've got some nice looking rings in the window." Rabbit jerked a thumb over toward the display. "Just wondering what interesting history they had, as it were."
Wormtail scurried quickly through the door behind Rabastan, heading directly left along the wall away from the counter. He hugged it closely, dodging under countertops and through the legs of cabinets, listening closely for the sounds of the clerk and the Death Eater speaking to one another. He’d mapped the way through the store while they had been watching through the window of the pawnbroker’s, so he knew he had two corners to round before hitting the door for the backroom.
And Rabbit leaned against the counter, doing his absolute best to keep the clerk's attention--suspicion would do just as nicely as anything else--on him and not on any whispery skittery noises she might think she heard.
"Sir," the clerk stated, though her frown suggested she wasn't entirely sure Rabbit--who'd not bothered dressing up for the occasion--warranted the title. "If you've questions about the provenance or affinities of the merchandise, I'm afraid you'll have to wait to speak with Mr Borgin. Nor can I show you any objects currently locked away."
Rabbit considered name-dropping, just to see her jump--a gift for my brother, Rodolphus--but if he could get out of here without her positively identifying him then so much the better. So instead, he went with a sunny smile and, "Of course! In a bit of a hurry, though, so what can you show me in the way of--" He waved a hand. "Personal adornment and whatnot."
The clerk gave him another chilly look, but did obligingly step along the counter to bring out a plush display tray of rings and pins, decidedly less eldritch than the ones on display in the window.
After the second corner, he reached the door. It wasn’t closed all the way - the latch hadn’t actually connected - but it was still going to need a bit of a push. It was going to be a difficult thing for Wormtail to get it open. He could crouch and transform, but there was no guarantee of the clerk’s eyeline not catching him.
He just had to hope that the Death Eater could be loud enough to cover up the noises he was making or could manage to magic the door open a bit more for him. Wormtail scooted back from the door and then ran forward, hitting his head against the door before skittering claws against the bottom to try and force it open.
"Hmm," Rabbit said loudly, holding up one ring ostensibly to see the light glint in the enormous blue stone, but really to have an excuse to shoot a sidelong glance towards the faint scrabbling noises. Well shit, no wonder. "I just don't know," he said, turning back to the counter and the clerk. "Do you have anything--" Less hideously flashy was what he didn't say, as he fumbled handing the ring back, and sent it clattering to the floor. "Shit," he yelped, lifting a horrified hand to his face, "so sorry."
The clerk's sigh was tight and frustrated, and she flipped the cover back over the display tray--not entirely stupid, this girl--before she ducked down quickly to find and retrieve the ring. Very efficient, but not so quick that Rabbit didn't have time to slip his wand out, and shoot a carefully tempered and aimed Knockback at the door to the back room.
"Sorry," he said again, covering the faint noise of the spell hitting the door, as he tucked his wand away again. The clerk gave him a look as she straightened, and Rabbit held both hands up, level with his shoulders. "No touching, just looking."
The door opened just enough for a small, furry animal to slip through which worked just fine for Wormtail. He snuck past, rounding the corner behind the door before transforming back to Peter. He made a few quick glances around the room for anything that looked like the records and was pleased to find that there was a small safe tucked beneath a desk across the room.
He glanced furtively at the small opening of the doorway before rushing past it on his hands and knees (just to be safe). Using his wand to unlock the safe, he pulled out what looked to be a few books, but upon perusal was a record of all the items that had been sold in the store - or at least those of more importance, he assumed. Peter did try an attempt at copying them, but they had been spelled against it, so he glanced around for some sort of sack to put them in.
He pulled a burlap bag off a shelf nearby and stuffed the books inside, shutting the safe back and then cast a shrinking charm on the bag so it would be just small enough for a rodent to carry in his mouth. All that done, Peter was back in the shape of Wormtail and ready to leave. He grabbed the bag with his teeth and headed to the doorway again, glancing around the corner to make sure the man and the clerk were still engaged before taking his long way back around beneath all the display cases.
"If you could be more specific," the clerk was saying as Wormtail scuttled back in, the set of her teeth obvious in the tone of her words, "then perhaps I could be of more assistance."
"I know," Rabbit said, with a grand show of being morose, "I'm completely useless. Maybe something a little more like that third one you--" His fingers drifted toward one of the rings on the tray, and the clerk slapped the back of his hand. Rabbit whisked his hand away, and grinned at her. "Tell you what, how about I buy you a drink after work, to make up for all this messing about. When do you get off?"
Her eyes widened, though not--unsurprisingly--with sudden girlish shock. "Has this all been--" She glared at him. "Is this some sort of dare?" And didn't even give any space to Rabbit's sputtering of what, no before she was leaning over the counter, a finger in his face. "Did my brother put you up to this?"
Wormtail could hear the conversation and that it was going south rather quickly. He shouldn’t be terribly surprised that Rabastan had managed to offend the woman; he was rather offensive in general. What was more annoying was that he didn’t know how long it was going to be before curses started to fly, which would make their so-called inconspicuous record retrieval rather more memorable for the clerk than it was supposed to be. He could only wait idly under a tall cabinet near the door for the Death Eater to allow him an exit.
Rabbit took a step back from the counter, hands up in the traditional display of innocence (for all the good it did). "What? No. I don't even know who your brother is." And he took another step back as her eyes narrowed. "Look, how about I just come back another day when Mr Borgin is back."
"How about you do that," the clerk said through her teeth.
He couldn't even dart a surreptitious glance around to see if Wormtail was back, not without looking even shiftier. Rabbit just had to hope that this had been enough time because clearly, he was out of rope.
So he gave the clerk a little wave, and turned to pull the door--with its ridiculous creak--open again.