Date: Wednesday, 20 September, 2000
Time: 11:00 p.m. and later, after Closing
Location: The Leaky Cauldron
Characters Involved: Seamus Finnigan, Lavender Brown, various NPC’s, by invitation only
Rating: R for violence
(
Folly is the cloke of knavery. - William Blake )
At the top of the stairs he opened the door carefully to keep the noise minimal, but without a thought towards encountering another. Instead of a darkened deserted hallway, there in the light stood Cecil, the squib janitor of the Leaky, who was just finishing up in the hallway. Unfortunately for poor Cecil, he was now standing there face to face with a Death Eater in full regalia, with only his broom between them. The Death Eater misinterpreted the broom as a weapon, for in his hands it would have been, aimed his wand and without pausing to consider uttered his first Unforgiveable spell of the evening.
“Avada Kevadra,” he spoke with conviction. There would be no witnesses to this crime. The man fell where he stood, with the green flash of light that signaled that this insignificant life had come to an end.
He stood for an instant, realizing he’d been mistaken about being alone in The Leaky Cauldron and noticing that all of the lights were still on in the barroom. The kitchen was dark, and he quickly doused all the lights in the hallway, resolving to act quickly against anyone else with the misfortune to be there.
He burst around the corner from the hallway into the pub room, wand at the ready and a spell on his lips.
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Sadly for Seamus, ‘twas not to be. The Death Eater came around the bar for the till, but saw the wand in his hand and laughingly removed it, using the till to bash him over the head. He’d already killed once tonight, what possible difference could another make? Dazed from the blow, Seamus fell hard to the floor, compounding the damage. His eyes blurred as he briefly lost consciousness, lying in a spreading pool of his own blood.
The Death Eater had once again acted too quickly. The till was locked and warded by Seamus, wards that would take time to unravel. Again the Death Eater was being asked to wait when waiting was the last thing he was willing to do. He kicked Seamus hard once or twice as he lay there, to see if he’d waken. Then he threw the till against the mirror, breaking it into a massive layer of shards which fell everywhere around the bar, in betwixt all the bottles and also over Seamus, cutting him here and there as he lay unmoving.
The anger the Death Eater had held in check for months burst into action as he used his wand in a fit of pique and destruction, tossing the chairs and tables of the barroom like twigs against the walls and the fireplace. Even the strongest of the oak taproom tables broke under the velocity of his wand, the largest taking chunks of the fireplace or the walls with them as they hit the floor. The inside of The Leaky Cauldron now looked like the leavings of a furious tornado, with furniture reduced to piles of rubble, stairways warped and askew and bricks falling from the fractured fireplace.
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As his eyes slowly opened and he realised his arms were free, Seamus heard a lowly guttural fright of a laugh from behind him, followed by something worse.
“Imperio!” The man commanded with something akin to glee.
“Open the till.” Seamus struggled to stand, mindless of his bleeding and the constricting pains in his chest, and reached for his wand with one hand and the till with the other. His hand closed around the till and the shards of glass on it bit into his flesh savagely, yet he gave no visible response. He could feel the pain, but it was somehow compartmentalized within him and his body was following the directions of the wand pointed at it, not the ones from his brain or his nerves.
He set the till on the bar and used his wand to release the wards, finally unlocking it with Tom’s skeleton key, which dripped with his blood as he worked at the lock. The minute it was open, the man reached with his free hand to snatch it away. He looked around at his handiwork and felt the destruction of the dining area needed a match at the bar. A broken mirror did not adequately reflect his deep seated anger and frustration. Now, when stealth and ease had been denied, Galleons were not enough payment, he chose destruction and fear as a supplement.
Seamus could not predict what the Death Eater wanted, for in the next moment he again used his wand, levitating Seamus to a height of at least two and a half meters feet above the floor with a “Windgardium leviosa” before releasing him from the spell to crash first on the bottles of the back bar and then to the floor. Seamus was knocked unconscious from the fall and bleeding profusely from either that or the shards, and lay again in a second pool of his own blood behind the bar.
The man’s guttural laugh again rang out with glee as he prepared to finalize his visit to the Leaky by finishing off the barman. Suddenly, a thud came at one of the locked doors that led to the rest of the Leaky. Realising his time was short and uncertain the locks would hold, the Death Eater chose escape over discovery and fled out the back door of the The Leaky, pausing only to use his wand to send the Dark Mark high above the pub, resting it with pride and defiance over The Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley. Then he headed with speed and conviction towards Knockturn Alley.
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And then, from behind the door, she could hear Imperio.
Oh, Gods! Gods! She ran back for her wand, trying to unlock the door. “Alo-Gods!--homora! Alo-Alo-- Alohomora!” It didn’t budge. She heard the sound of a body being dropped on glass, the crashing, the shattering, and her front two teeth made contact through her lip, blood starting to seep out of her mouth.
“Alohamora!” she tried again, tears falling down her face. She had no idea what she was going to find, but she had to get in there. Her head hit the door - the noise that the man heard.
And the door opened.
She took three quick steps onto the stairs, and saw. There was a man - she later was sure it had been a man, since the voice she hard heard had been distinctly masculine, and his shoulders had been broad-- running out of the room. His back was to her, and she could see his full Death Eater regalia. That sight alone was enough to freeze Lavender, and she fell on the steps, bumping the back of her legs hard, thudding down as she stopped in her tracks.
As the door closed behind the man, she came to her sense enough to look around. Everything was in shambles. She let out a low moan as she managed to shakily get to her feet.
“Seamus!” she tried to cried out, her voice getting lost in her throat. “Seamus…” Her legs wobbled as though she had had the jelly-legs jinx cast on her, and it was difficult to wade through the rubble, but she knew she had to find him. But would she find him alive or dead? That was the most frightening question going through her mind. With everything looking like this… And from a Death Eater…
“Seamus?” she said again, reaching the bar and looking over. There was blood on her chin from biting through her lip, but that was nothing, nothing to Seamus. He was lying in a poor of his own blood. There was glass, and gashes, and slices of him. She let out another moan that twisted and became a wail. “Seamus!” she cried, stepping quickly over the rubble, kneeling down and hovering her hands over him. She wanted to hug him, and comfort him, and try to help him, but she was so afraid that she’d touch him and he’d die - if he wasn’t dead already. He wasn’t speaking, wasn’t moving. Just…. Like….. Mum….
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No, she couldn’t think like that.
Destination. Determination. Deliberation.
It was all there, in her head. She just needed to do it, and not splinch herself or Seamus in the process. He couldn’t deal with any splinching at this point, and she had to be quick.
“Oh gods,” she moaned, taking his hand. St. Mungo’s… St. Mungo’s… He’s going to die… St. Mungo’s… St. Mungo’s…. I can’t let him die… St. Mungo’s… “Oh, gods, Seamus! Hold on!”
She could hear the noise of people dealing with the rubble. They began shouting - was it the Death Eater come back? What if he wanted to make sure Seamus was dead? She had to get him out of there.
Determination.
Would she be able to focus? She had to. She had to. Destination.
St. Mungo’s…
Deliberation… Seamus, you can’t die!
She had never been so happy to feel that familiar tug. Everything went white.
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