@amxcuscarrow
The halls of the Department of Mysteries were comfortingly unchanged - or at least, as unchanged as the Department ever was. It was ocasionally unrecognisable, with the ways doors shifted and experiments seemingly came alive, changing the landscape of his workspace in a way Fabian had come to rely on.Â
He still felt the real change, though, the loss that covered him like a second skin ever since he had entered St Mungo’s and identified his cousin’s body. It took away the desire he usually had to come to work, to immerse himself in the Mysteries that he’d once planned to spend his life trying to figure out. There was only one mystery he cared about the answers to now.Â
Which was why he had returned. It had not been Bellatrix. He had looked her in the eyes and asked, he believed her. Hated her, wished she was dead, but believed her. So that left one other. Amycus Carrow. Who set him on edge without even seeming to try to. Who was an anomaly amongst the anomalies of the Department, a sore thumb, secretive and unnerving amongst people whose business it was to be secretive and unnerving.Â
And who had been there. Who Fabian had seen, talked with, suspected was up to something - and had chosen to leave anyway. Even after Carrow had made that threat, about Fabian losing his family. And he’d left him. He could see the trail from there, Amycus seeking out Athena just as Fabian sought Amycus’ door now and knocked. “Carrow? It’s Prewett. Mind if I come in? I wanted to check in, see that you were alright after the business at the Quidditch game. I heard you got away, but, well, with everything ... I’m sure you understand my desire to check on people.” The words were true, they simply didn’t apply to Amycus. And so the words came out almost resentfully, as if Fabian was reluctant to even pretend he gave a damn about Amycus’ welfare. He knew he ought to play the part better but couldn’t affect grief for Athena’s killer, not when all he felt, always, was rage, boiling just underneath everything else.Â
