Diagon_Alley:The RPG (original) (raw)

[	mood	|	cynical	]

Marcus Crossley's voice can be quietly fatherly, his faint Yorkshire accent soothing and comforting, or be as dry and pitiless as the rust on a gravedigger's shovel. Today it is verging dangerously towards the latter end of the scale.*

*He sits in Kit's consulting room, his dark eyes fixed shrewdly on the man on the other side of the desk. Placed on the table between them is a simple clay pot. A black cloth is tied over it, silver wire wrapped around and around it, securely fastening the cloth bindings. Hanging from the wire wrapping are various talismans and charms, again made of silver. The pot seems to vibrate with an angry intensity. It occasionally rocks on its base, as if whatever is trapped inside it is fighting desperately to get out.*

*Kit regards the object with a faint distate.*

"What is it?"

*Marcus' dark eyes regard him coolly.* "For want of a better word, it's a soul-keeper. More specifically, it contains the spirit of the werewolf which attacked a friend of yours. Haven't you read today's Daily Prophet? Apparently, as it fled back to its lair after transforming back to human it took a wrong turn in the Forbidden Forest and ended up caught in the web of a family of rather large and hungry spiders. Acromantulas to be precise. Very unpleasant way to go.

"It seems the boy was found by a couple of villagers from Hogsmeade and he lived long enough after they'd cut him down to tell them what had happened the previous night. He was buried in a werewolf cemetery yesterday. I spent the night out there carrying out certain...workings. The result you see before you."

*Marcus leans back in his chair, his eyes shadowed.* "Now, if a werewolf had hurt someone I cared for - my brother, for instance, or my son... or my wife, I'd want to make it pay. I'd make sure it felt what its victim had gone through. Or alternatively, if it were too late for that, I'd want its spirit to stay earthbound. To stop it moving onwards. I wouldn't want it to find any kind of peace, or resting place. I'd want it to stay lost and restless until I chose to release it."

*He notices Kit's posture stiffen slightly.*

"That is where you and I differ. The creature is dead, Marcus. That should be an end to the matter. What you have done may not be illegal, but it is immoral." *He sighs slightly* "Marcus, you know I have nothing but the deepest respect for a large proportion your work, but sometimes... you go too far. Much too far."

*A small and sardonic smile crosses Marcus' face.*

"Perhaps I should offer it to the spouse intead. But you know me; you're practically family, so I thought I'd give you first refusal. And yes, I'm as capable of performing the work of the left hand as that of the right, as they say." *He shrugs.* "Sometimes there's a need for it."

*Kit's voice is tight as he replies* "Vincent would be as insulted as I am. Probably more so."

*He reaches into a desk drawer and slides a small bag of gold towards the older man across the surface of the desk.*

"That should cover whatever expenses you may have incurred to create that... whatever it is. Now take it back to wherever you got it and set it free. "

*Marcus picks up the bag and weighs it meditatively in his hands. He sets it down, picking up the soul-keeper but leaving the money behind.*

*casually* "Just for future reference, it's worth twice that on Knockturn Alley."

*Kit glares back at him* "Your concern for my patchy knowledge of Dark Arts economics is touching, but I won't ever be needing to know how much one of those... things cost, because I won't ever be wanting one."

*Marcus nods, his expression vaguely satisfied.*

"I know you wouldn't. Don't worry, I have no intention of selling it. I just wanted to satisfy my curiosity on a point of interest. Good afternoon."

*He tucks the soul-keeper into a pocket inside his cloak and moves to the door of the office, leaving the bag of gold still sitting on the desk. He turns back.*

"And Kit - you want to watch yourself, lad. For a moment there, you almost professed to believing in an afterlife."

*He gives a not altogether pleasant smile and leaves the office, shutting the door smartly behind him.*