Post by Deleted on Nov 18, 2012 3:01:10 GMT -5
Anil observed the woman dispassionately as her gaze darted around the clearing for Roan. She wouldn’t find her. He’d made sure to banish the former Hufflepuff far past the boundaries of the woods. The spell may not have been the gentlest means of transporting her away, and she’d no doubt have a less than graceful landing. It would certainly hurt, considering all the injuries she’d sustained in the time she’d gone missing from his flat. He could have Apparated with her, escaped together. If it had been anyone else but Margaret Rosier, he could have done it. But not her.
”It’s Mags.”
He’d really underestimated Ilmar this time. Not only had he given him the rune compass that led him to Roan, he had actually managed to pull off getting him a message. ”It’s Mags. She’s coming. Better hurry.” The magpie patronus that had found him at the edge of the Woods was unmistakable. And that little piece of information, short as it was, made all the difference when one was dealing with a woman like Margaret Rosier. However, it came at a cost. His brother had now put himself into play, and even if Anil and Roan managed to elude the Huntress, she could easily grasp Ilmar in her claws in retaliation.
”Anil Hawkins,” she berated him. ”What have you done?!”
Margaret’s voice, biting and curt, was familiar. Anil had heard it often in passing, back in the Auror Corps. Commander Wyatt hadn’t gotten on with her, he remembered, but he himself never needed to deal much with Rosier outside dueling practice. Nonetheless, the dueling itself was plenty to prove every bit of her formidable reputation true. Her strict self-discipline and ruthlessness in battle was legendary among Aurors and Hit Wizards alike, and Anil had never once heard of a failed mission when she had command. Not only was she a fierce duelist, her talent for tactics had brought many wizards and witches to their knees. When plan A failed, there was always a plan B; failing that, a plan C. In a rare instance, Anil’s sudden appearance had caught her off-guard, but he knew it wouldn’t last. He had to make it last, or neither Roan nor Ilmar would have a chance.
”You helped a murdering monster escape. I knew you were unethical Mr. Hawkins, but this is too far.”
Anil almost flinched, but not quite. The first statement was true, more or less. Roan’s tearful confession at the bottom of the stairs just a few nights before was seared into his memory . Yet, he was unable to associate the act of murder with what he knew of his former student. Part of him refused to believe Roan was capable of such an act. The remaining part demanded that he look at the facts of the situation, but its voice was drowned by a roar of a thousand easier, more convenient explanations, and Anil strangled it to silence in his mind.
On the other hand, Anil could not ignore Margaret’s jab at his ethics. He knew exactly what she was referring to, and the last time someone it had been brought up, the ensuing brawl had trashed the Joker’s Bar. He was just so damn sick of hearing about it, of no one having the right of it, of the misplaced blame and scandalized whispers. It was useless to explain. He was sick of explaining. So he did the next best thing.
“Listen,” he said. “The fact that you’ve never had a good shag doesn’t give you the right to criticize those of us who have.” A scathing smirk slid over his face like an old mask, worn and familiar. “You still a virgin? I could show you how it’s done, just this once.” He mimicked her tone of voice. “You get one chance.”
Anil had plenty more to say, but cut himself off when he heard the clumsy stumbling from the undergrowth nearby. Tensing, but careful to remain aware of his initial enemy, he readied himself for whatever might emerge from the brush. It wasn’t long before a dark-haired young man burst into the clearing, wand up and asking after some girl. Anil’s eyes narrowed. The new wizard was familiar. He’d only seen him once, but the giant, green, flashing billboard at the Town Hall meeting some time ago had made a solid impression. Too solid an impression. The memory of the neon snake emblazoned on the banner obliterated anything he could remember about what the Slytherin had asked, or how he had reacted when Willow made an unexpected appearance.
Still, though Anil was unable to gauge the newcomer’s intentions, it was clear that he wasn’t affiliated with the Huntress before him. He could use this to his advantage. Every second he could keep Margaret occupied was one second more for Roan to escape.
“So,” he drawled nonchalantly. “He one of yours, Rosier?”
”It’s Mags.”
He’d really underestimated Ilmar this time. Not only had he given him the rune compass that led him to Roan, he had actually managed to pull off getting him a message. ”It’s Mags. She’s coming. Better hurry.” The magpie patronus that had found him at the edge of the Woods was unmistakable. And that little piece of information, short as it was, made all the difference when one was dealing with a woman like Margaret Rosier. However, it came at a cost. His brother had now put himself into play, and even if Anil and Roan managed to elude the Huntress, she could easily grasp Ilmar in her claws in retaliation.
”Anil Hawkins,” she berated him. ”What have you done?!”
Margaret’s voice, biting and curt, was familiar. Anil had heard it often in passing, back in the Auror Corps. Commander Wyatt hadn’t gotten on with her, he remembered, but he himself never needed to deal much with Rosier outside dueling practice. Nonetheless, the dueling itself was plenty to prove every bit of her formidable reputation true. Her strict self-discipline and ruthlessness in battle was legendary among Aurors and Hit Wizards alike, and Anil had never once heard of a failed mission when she had command. Not only was she a fierce duelist, her talent for tactics had brought many wizards and witches to their knees. When plan A failed, there was always a plan B; failing that, a plan C. In a rare instance, Anil’s sudden appearance had caught her off-guard, but he knew it wouldn’t last. He had to make it last, or neither Roan nor Ilmar would have a chance.
”You helped a murdering monster escape. I knew you were unethical Mr. Hawkins, but this is too far.”
Anil almost flinched, but not quite. The first statement was true, more or less. Roan’s tearful confession at the bottom of the stairs just a few nights before was seared into his memory . Yet, he was unable to associate the act of murder with what he knew of his former student. Part of him refused to believe Roan was capable of such an act. The remaining part demanded that he look at the facts of the situation, but its voice was drowned by a roar of a thousand easier, more convenient explanations, and Anil strangled it to silence in his mind.
On the other hand, Anil could not ignore Margaret’s jab at his ethics. He knew exactly what she was referring to, and the last time someone it had been brought up, the ensuing brawl had trashed the Joker’s Bar. He was just so damn sick of hearing about it, of no one having the right of it, of the misplaced blame and scandalized whispers. It was useless to explain. He was sick of explaining. So he did the next best thing.
“Listen,” he said. “The fact that you’ve never had a good shag doesn’t give you the right to criticize those of us who have.” A scathing smirk slid over his face like an old mask, worn and familiar. “You still a virgin? I could show you how it’s done, just this once.” He mimicked her tone of voice. “You get one chance.”
Anil had plenty more to say, but cut himself off when he heard the clumsy stumbling from the undergrowth nearby. Tensing, but careful to remain aware of his initial enemy, he readied himself for whatever might emerge from the brush. It wasn’t long before a dark-haired young man burst into the clearing, wand up and asking after some girl. Anil’s eyes narrowed. The new wizard was familiar. He’d only seen him once, but the giant, green, flashing billboard at the Town Hall meeting some time ago had made a solid impression. Too solid an impression. The memory of the neon snake emblazoned on the banner obliterated anything he could remember about what the Slytherin had asked, or how he had reacted when Willow made an unexpected appearance.
Still, though Anil was unable to gauge the newcomer’s intentions, it was clear that he wasn’t affiliated with the Huntress before him. He could use this to his advantage. Every second he could keep Margaret occupied was one second more for Roan to escape.
“So,” he drawled nonchalantly. “He one of yours, Rosier?”