Rabastan Lestange, Pensieve Memory, December 1977
Name: Rabastan Lestrange
Format: Pensieve Memory
Date: December 1977
Relevance: Evidence of Rabastan Lestrange's illegal activities, including the murder of C. Dearborn, the theft of Ministry property and the involvement of L. Malfoy.
He straightened up, try not to look too closely at the body on the floor. He hadn't expected it would be such a struggle but the old man had been stronger than he'd seemed. Still, a stunning spell and then the killing curse had finished him off quite nicely.
Rabastan drew a couple of deep breaths, bending to pluck a hair from the man's head and he reached into his coat pocket, drawing out a hip flask. He unscrewed the lid and dropped the hair inside, waiting a moment or so before he drank. The transformation was almost instantaneous. He regarded his new face with a mixture of pity and scorn- the years have not been kind to Mr Dearborn but he'd hardly had much to work with anyway.
He took a few steps trying to get used to the new body armor the odd feeling of carrying so much more weight than he was used to and he apparated across the room, getting his bearing in the new strange body.
Rabastan smiled, thinking how odd the expression looked on at all wizened face. There would be no way anyone, not even Mr Dearborn's oldest friends, would be able to tell that he was dead and Rabastan was wearing his skin. He gave one last look to the body and considered all the places he might put it, all the places that it would never be found. The bogs where he could dump the body and it would slowly decompose until it looked as if it the lying there for hundreds of years or he could burn the body making it utterly un-recognizable and then bury it. He would have to do that soon, he couldn't just leave body decomposing in the flat. Someone might notice the smell or perhaps a nosy neighbour might have heard the noise of their scuffle and pop round to check. People could be so civic minded in that way.
But he had a job to do and everything else would have to wait till later. He only had enough potion to last a few hours. Taking another look around the room Rabastan drew his wand and apparated away from the small dingy flat and into the bright reception hall of the ministry. He climbed the stairs, his heart hammering as if fit to burst and any moment now he was sure someone would notice that something was not right. He made his way to Dearborn's office, and hunted under his plant pot until he found when he was looking for; a dark iron key like one that might be used on the door or filing cabinet. He slipped it into his pocket trying not to shudder at the odd sensation of a different body under his hand.
After that finding what he'd been assigned to recover proved disarming easy. The ministry might as well put a sign over their door saying spies and criminals welcome. There was no one guarding the documents. He took them from their cabinet and slipped them beneath the folds of his robes. Then, he simply strolled out of the building and towards the lift feeling rather elated. Lucius had been overreacting, fooled by Rabastan's youth and his own feelings in to inventing bogey men and unforeseeable dangers which had lurked around every corner of this mission, but Rabastan had known he was more than capable. He reached the lift and pressed one of the buttons when his reflection caught he is eye.
Instead of the fat, wizened old man he could see his own reflection. The potion was beginning to wear off. Behind him he heard the sound of people beginning to panic, shouting and running feet. The doors opened and he hurled himself inside. He covered his face with his robes, desperate that he not be seen and pressed at the door close button. He had to get out the building but by now everyone would have been alerted. There was the one place he could go. He pressed the button to floor 11 and huddled in a corner.
When the doors opened the corridor was empty. He ran along it, trying to remember which door belonged to Lucius, sure any moment now he would be discovered and worse the papers on him. He beat against one of the doors, not sure if this was the right one are beginning to not care.
Lucius opened the door and Rabastan fell against him.
"I've got them" he said, "I've got them but you've got to hide me. The potion wasn't strong enough. I don't think they saw my face, but they'll be searching. You've got to hide me."
Format: Pensieve Memory
Date: December 1977
Relevance: Evidence of Rabastan Lestrange's illegal activities, including the murder of C. Dearborn, the theft of Ministry property and the involvement of L. Malfoy.
He straightened up, try not to look too closely at the body on the floor. He hadn't expected it would be such a struggle but the old man had been stronger than he'd seemed. Still, a stunning spell and then the killing curse had finished him off quite nicely.
Rabastan drew a couple of deep breaths, bending to pluck a hair from the man's head and he reached into his coat pocket, drawing out a hip flask. He unscrewed the lid and dropped the hair inside, waiting a moment or so before he drank. The transformation was almost instantaneous. He regarded his new face with a mixture of pity and scorn- the years have not been kind to Mr Dearborn but he'd hardly had much to work with anyway.
He took a few steps trying to get used to the new body armor the odd feeling of carrying so much more weight than he was used to and he apparated across the room, getting his bearing in the new strange body.
Rabastan smiled, thinking how odd the expression looked on at all wizened face. There would be no way anyone, not even Mr Dearborn's oldest friends, would be able to tell that he was dead and Rabastan was wearing his skin. He gave one last look to the body and considered all the places he might put it, all the places that it would never be found. The bogs where he could dump the body and it would slowly decompose until it looked as if it the lying there for hundreds of years or he could burn the body making it utterly un-recognizable and then bury it. He would have to do that soon, he couldn't just leave body decomposing in the flat. Someone might notice the smell or perhaps a nosy neighbour might have heard the noise of their scuffle and pop round to check. People could be so civic minded in that way.
But he had a job to do and everything else would have to wait till later. He only had enough potion to last a few hours. Taking another look around the room Rabastan drew his wand and apparated away from the small dingy flat and into the bright reception hall of the ministry. He climbed the stairs, his heart hammering as if fit to burst and any moment now he was sure someone would notice that something was not right. He made his way to Dearborn's office, and hunted under his plant pot until he found when he was looking for; a dark iron key like one that might be used on the door or filing cabinet. He slipped it into his pocket trying not to shudder at the odd sensation of a different body under his hand.
After that finding what he'd been assigned to recover proved disarming easy. The ministry might as well put a sign over their door saying spies and criminals welcome. There was no one guarding the documents. He took them from their cabinet and slipped them beneath the folds of his robes. Then, he simply strolled out of the building and towards the lift feeling rather elated. Lucius had been overreacting, fooled by Rabastan's youth and his own feelings in to inventing bogey men and unforeseeable dangers which had lurked around every corner of this mission, but Rabastan had known he was more than capable. He reached the lift and pressed one of the buttons when his reflection caught he is eye.
Instead of the fat, wizened old man he could see his own reflection. The potion was beginning to wear off. Behind him he heard the sound of people beginning to panic, shouting and running feet. The doors opened and he hurled himself inside. He covered his face with his robes, desperate that he not be seen and pressed at the door close button. He had to get out the building but by now everyone would have been alerted. There was the one place he could go. He pressed the button to floor 11 and huddled in a corner.
When the doors opened the corridor was empty. He ran along it, trying to remember which door belonged to Lucius, sure any moment now he would be discovered and worse the papers on him. He beat against one of the doors, not sure if this was the right one are beginning to not care.
Lucius opened the door and Rabastan fell against him.
"I've got them" he said, "I've got them but you've got to hide me. The potion wasn't strong enough. I don't think they saw my face, but they'll be searching. You've got to hide me."