#strikes-goyle

Date: June 26th, 1980 Time: 7:15AM Place: Crabbe townhouse, London

The sun poked its nose around the curtains of the spare bedroom in the Crabbe townhouse, letting the morning light into the dark room and heralding a new day. Once upon a time this had been Theia’s room, though there remained little evidence of this. Theia had never been a particularly materialistic person and when she’d moved away, she’d taken most of her belongings with her. Until the night before, the room had generally remained empty, except on the occasion when Ramsey needed somewhere to stay for the night.

As had been the case the night before. Slumped across the armchair by the window, Sep blinked awake slowly. Had it not been for the sunshine slanting directly into his eyes from the sky beyond the glass, he might have remained asleep for much longer. It had been a long and exhausting night. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he looked over at the figure on the bed. 

Ramsey looked wan, as if all the stress and pain of the night before had drained the colour from him. His arm was wrapped in thick white bandages and Sep didn’t want to think about what it must look like beneath the deceptively pristine cotton. When he closed his eyes he could still see the angry red blisters, the way the skin had split, revealing the tissue underneath. The phantom memory of the smell of burnt flesh resurged in his mind and he fought back a wave of nausea. 

The hours between the catastrophic Death Eater meeting and when he’d finally been able to fall asleep was an unhappy blur in Sep’s mind. He hazily remembered Apparating to his house, the barking of his dog Grim as he rushed through the door with Ramsey’s semi-conscious form slumped over his shoulders, barely pausing to dismantle the wards. He remembered giving Aurie a half-baked and panicked excuse that he doubted she’d believed, before she’d rushed for her wand to help him conjure bandages. He was fairly certain she hadn’t even questioned why he’d insisted they didn’t use magic to heal the horrible burn. He’d have to make it up to her for that. He was pretty sure he didn’t deserve her or her loyalty.

@strikes-goyle

Warmth, sunshine, grass under her bare feet, pencil to paper. Truthfully, it didn’t take much to make Charity Burbage content with an afternoon. Some days she felt true happiness was just beyond her reach -- or maybe she’d just peaked a decade ago -- but she could feel content. Peaceful. She could put all that had happened behind her for a while and simply enjoy the world as she’d done so many times before.

Since Percival Kelly’s murder, she’d made a decision. Too much of her time had already been given to the Dementors, to Azkaban, to her illness. She still needed her potions to get through every day, it was still a struggle, but she was going to make an effort. For her friend. It was nearly a surprising thought -- they hadn’t even been all that close -- but his death had had a profound effect on her. He’d been so young. . . Somehow it didn’t seem right to waste her days when he had no more. On another level, it brought into sharp relief how fleeting life was in these days of war and terror. Who was she to wallow and pine for days long past, hiding in her flat with no one but a stocked potions rack for company? Who was she to mourn all that she’d lost of herself, when she’d lost nearly nothing at all?

So she’d been making that effort. She’d dug out her art supplies again. She’d been leaving the house for more than just work. If it killed her, she would regain every shred of herself that she’d let the fighting and the Dementors take from her, and she would start by sketching again.

It was a simple pleasure, but a deep one, and it could almost singlehandedly create a nearly perfect afternoon for Charity. Her sketchbook, a cloudless sky, her shoes kicked off so she could feel the grass and dirt beneath her toes. The only thing that would make it complete was a friend to spend her time with, but she contented herself with watching everyone else in the park that day -- friends, lovers, parents and their children, happy people from all walks of life who’d been drawn to the park by the sunshine, just as she had. It was her favorite kind of loneliness, to watch others being happy.

Her thoughts rambled from one topic to the next, as per usual. Her hands moved over her sketchbook almost absentmindedly. It wasn’t until she heard a child laughing closer to her than anyone else had been all day that she looked up and --

@strikes-goyle

Marlene went over the file one last time to make sure she was not missing anything. While her beautiful face betrayed no emotion, she was grimacing on the inside at the gruesomeness of the crime. It was quite...beastly. No wonder some theories contemplated the possibility of ruling the case as an animal attack. Not only would that have been easier. It would, in a strange way, calmed everyone’s nerves. An animal attack was, after all, an accident, unintentional. Random. A murderer, however? Not so much. And as with most deaths these days, Marlene was leaning more towards the later. But she was a professional, and her own early opinion should not get in the way of her work, which was, as of right now, to interrogate Mr. Ramsay Goyle.

She had not concurred Hogwarts at the same time as Goyle. Neither had Duncan. She thought it was possible Catie might have been a couple of years below him, but if she had, Marlene’s older sister had no memory of him. Still, she kept a record of the people she was to interrogate, and it seemed like Mr. Goyle had laboured himself quite an intense reputation. It did, of course fire up her alarms, but the blonde was fully aware that just because this wizard had made a bit of a name of himself for being too close on the aggressive side, it did not make him a murderer. 

It might, though. Anything was possible, after all. To find out what actually was, well, that was the whole point of the interrogation.

When she entered the interrogation room, she did so with a confident, imposing pace, because she knew she had to make a particularly strong impression in order to compensate for her shortness and well, unfortunately, the fact that she was a female. However, there was a fine line between confidence and hostility, and for the moment, Marlene did not want to appear as a threat to Goyle. It would cause him to immediately shut himself out, which she could not afford.

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He must have been drifting into a wake-like-sleeping, his eyes still trained on the front door and his wand still on his knee. He hadn’t even noticed the sun come up, nor the noises outside that spoke to a busy city street.                                                                         -- strikes-goyle, Breaking Point

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She stood and finally looked him in the face again. Sure enough, just as she predicted, her eyes filled with tears at the sight of his apologetic face. Still, she just looked at him for a moment, trying to burn his face into her memory in case she really didn’t ever see him again. This moment would have to sustain her for the rest of her life, it wouldn’t do to rush it.                                                                      -- charity-h-burbage, Old Flames

”Amazing,” Alecto murmured, finding it utterly fascinating the number of beasts that were supposed to be here, and from how far away they were supposed to be. For the first time in a long, long time, Alecto felt like a normal girl, her hand encased in Remus’ while they strolled along looking at the smaller exhibits that lined the walkway. She liked the way he looked at her and she knew that whenever her gaze did land on the man, it was filled with adoration. She glanced over to where Remus had pointed, taking in the Porlock. The last time she’d seen a Porlock, the blonde witch had been a small child and she remembered with fondness how amazed she had been at the simple creature.                                                                        -- a-fairfury, Beautiful Creatures

Date: April 2nd, 1980 Time: 6:00pm Location: Death Eater Safe House

The meeting had ended, the Dark Lord had made his leave surrounded by his usual cloud of awed silence and respect, and now Walden took the opportunity to lean his chair back and throw his boots up onto the elegantly carved table they had all been seated at.

Most of the other Death Eaters had made their leave at this point, but he was allowing himself a moment to rest. The night before was a bit of a blur, but most of it he had spent sprawled on the floor and woke up in bed with no memory of moving from his spot on the rug at the foot of his armchair. His head was aching, as was the rest of him. It was a familiar ache, however, and one that he had long since learned to live with, but that didn’t mean he immediately wanted to jump back into apparating so soon. A quick nap, and then perhaps he would return to his bed.

Or, that was his plan until he heard the familiar crooning of his favourite pair. Lifting his head from where it was resting on the back of his chair, he peeked from under a lazy eyelid to spy the hilarious couple.

It felt like his birthday all over again.

With a grin, feeling this was exactly what he needed to give him some pep, he pushed himself up from his seat and sauntered over to where Crabbe and Goyle were sitting, perching himself on the table beside them. “Hello, darlings,” he greeted with a smirk. “How are my two favourite lads doing?”

Date: April 10th, 1980 Location: Ministry of Magic, Men’s Room

Late. Figured. Evan closed his timepiece with a hard click and tucked the watch back into his waistcoat pocket. As usual, his only real complaint about the task that had been given to him was that the Dark Lord had given him another partner. Why that was necessary he honestly didn’t want to even hazard a guess at. There were so many possibilities. The Dark Lord didn’t trust him…or Goyle. Worse was the idea that someone had shared his recent company with a known blood traitor. Shaking off the thoughts as they were counterproductive he glowered at his own reflection and paced across the small space once again.

His confidence in his current ‘partner’ was even shakier than normal, and it had less to do with the fact that he didn’t really know the man and more to do with the fact that the man had called him via fire to ask for a location change, and then had offered to bring him dinner. Who thought of food when they were getting ready to infiltrate a place like the ministry? He raked a hand back through his hair, and then glanced up to make sure he hadn’t mussed it too much. His nerves had been more on edge lately thanks in large part to changes he damn well should not have allowed, a fact that his conversation with Walden only highlighted in his mind.

Normally, he would have been eager for this kind of assignment. Sure it wasn’t his normal brand of torture and mayhem, but the acquisition of knowledge could be just as thrilling. Plus, he liked the idea of exploring the off limit sections of the ministry right under Moody’s nose. His clearance only went so high of course, but he knew enough to get them where they wanted to go, so he had everything mapped out in his head. Now he just needed Goyle to get there so that things could get rolling.

So where was Goyle?

As if his thoughts had finally summoned the man, the door started to open. Not entirely certain, Evan made a show of being at the counter washing his hands (just in case) as the unknown entered the bathroom. Unfortunately, when he glanced up in the mirror to see who’d arrived, the sight of his partner was not at all calming because the man was eating.

He grabbed some paper towels and turned with a scowl. “Seriously?” He asked, not sure he could adequately express his growing frustration as he took in the man’s somewhat rumpled appearance. What really caught his attention though, was the half eaten burger clutched in one hand. Toppings, condiments, and cheese oozed out the sides, dripping along the half-wrap of paper, but the man seemed oblivious to the impending mess, and no surprise considering his face. Had the man never heard of a fucking napkin?

Date: June 30th, 1970 Time: 7:15pm Location: The Leaky Cauldron, London @strikes-goyle

A free man! That was what Septimus Crabbe felt like as he walked with a spring in his step towards the unimpressive sight of the Leaky Cauldron pub. No more homework or exams or teachers breathing down his neck! No more sleeping in a crowded dormitory or wearing school robes or trying to scrub ink off of his hands! Because Septimus Crabbe was officially and finally done with school!

And what better way to celebrate than with drinks with his best mate? He and Ramsey Goyle would finally be able to spend more time together now that Sep wasn’t going to be stuck at Hogwarts for nine months of the year. It had been a hard thing to get used to, when Ramsey had graduated a few years earlier, leaving Sep on his own. He’d only had Lucius Malfoy as a friend and though there was nothing wrong with Lucius, he and Sep had never had the same easy dynamic that the latter shared with Ramsey. Nor was it the same, only getting to spend time with his best friend in the summer months. Well no more! They were both free now and as adults they could do whatever they pleased.

In the spirit of that belief, he would have picked a better place than the Leaky Cauldron to meet up, except that the relatively tame pub was convenient in its location. It was a fairly short walk from the Crabbe townhouse, where Sep had been living with his sister Theia since the summer before. Though he’d managed to (barely) pass his Apparation test back in Sixth Year, Sep still wasn’t as comfortable with that particular mode of magical travel just yet as he liked and tended to avoid it when he could. So the Leaky Cauldron would have to do.

And hey, they could always go and explore Knockturn Alley after a couple drinks. No one was going to stop them, were they? He was eighteen now and Ramsey was twenty-one as of a couple months past, so it wasn’t like they were kids anymore! They could do as they liked! Sep bet that there were plenty of cool pubs in Knockturn Alley that would be way more fun than the Cauldron.

Stepping through the door of the pub, unnoticed by the daft Muggles passing by on the street, Sep looked around for Ramsey’s familiar face. The bar room was crowded with regulars and strangers alike, all gathering as the evening progressed. Sep tugged on one of the earrings in his left ear absently as he searched the crowd. It was an idle tic, though he sometimes noticed that it left his ear sore later. He’d been thinking of ditching the earrings lately. Which certainly had nothing to do with Theia pointing out that they weren’t doing him any favours with the witches.

Date: May 14th, 1980 Time: 9:15PM Location: Hogsmeade village, Scotland @strikes-goyle

The 14th of May had been a warm, pleasant spring day. A clear blue sky had warmed the air, a promise of the summer to come. Now, however, evening was setting in and the warmth of the sun was fading into a gentle, cool darkness. Yet the buzz of spring was still strong in the air and the high street of Hogsmeade was far from deserted. Witches and wizards flocked to the pubs or simply strolled along the cobbles, enjoying every last bit of the day that they could.

In the shadows one street over, Septimus Crabbe was impatient. He was leaning against a garden wall, ensconced in enough darkness to avoid the eyes of anyone who might peer out from their windows, and smoking his way through a cigarette in a rather disgruntled manner.

It wasn’t that he was in a particularly bad mood. Being himself, he was usually in some state of annoyance, but his impatience now stemmed not from his seemingly bottomless well of inner rage, but from excitement. Eagerness. His mind had been simmering with ideas ever since the Dark Lord had called upon him and Ramsey for their latest mission and when a good one had struck, it had been like a boiling point. Now he couldn’t wait to see it done.

His watch glinted slightly as he turned his wrist to look at it, the gold and glass catching what little light it could in the shadows. It was a pretty little piece, with a glass front from which the hands emerged, showing off all the little pieces that moved inside it to make it tick. The stars and planets arranged around its face glowed faintly. Sep felt no appreciation for it at the moment however. Where was Ramsey?

He knew that his best mate could get weird on missions. Especially recently, when it seemed like the littlest thing could set off his paranoia. But this mission was hardly a tough one! One target, that was it. Better yet, it was Percival bloody Kelly, who was a self-righteous, nonsense-spouting blood traitor. Sep and Ramsey had crossed paths with him on a few occasions before and it had never ended peacefully. Tonight wouldn’t be a simple fight, though. The Dark Lord had ordered them to show what happened to fools who went against their kind to defend Muggles and Mudbloods. Percival Kelly will die, he’d told them, in that voice that brooked no argument. Creatively.