RP: No matter what you do...
Characters: Rabastan Lestrange
Location: Fieran Hall (home, sweet home)
Date: 25th August
Status: Private
Summary: His pockets are emptying quickly and he wants his sodding Gringotts vault key.
Completion: Complete
There was an area in Oxford -- now in the centre of the Oxford Green Belt -- that drew Rabastan like a moth to the flame. After Apparating to eleven different locations, he finally decided it was safe enough to call in. As far as he knew, no one had come after him despite his brazen appearances in Diagon Alley. This was vaguely disappointing, but he couldn't deny the convenience.
Now he stood on the threshold of where he knew the family's magical barricades started. If a Muggle tried to move any closer they would suddenly turn back, running in fear from a foe they would remain forever adamant was chasing then home. It was certainly interesting to watch, at any rate. At the moment, everything in front of him looked like fields although apparently no one had ever thought to question the minor detail of an utter lack of crops and livestock. In fact, the grass was almost too green. Still, it looked a little different on the other side. Rabastan let his feet follow the familiar trail home, although now it looked quite different. The plants were climbing over themselves and everything else. The place hadn't seen a gardener for years.
The gates seemed to mourn this arrival, and he sneered internally, patting the engraved name like it was a long lost friend. Fieran Hall. As if that name held any meaning to the Lestranges any more, with both parents dead. Even his father could only remember how they were connected when prompted by brandy.
The path was covered with... things. Some of them were alive, some long deceased. At least three of them looked like mutated gnomes.
Inside the house was dusty and cold and felt like something the Slytherin girls used to tell horror stories about in first year. He was more than a little annoyed to discover the door had been left unlocked, but nothing of interest had been taken, if anything. Desks and bookshelves were overturned, furniture was upside down, pans and cooking utensils were now in the parlour.
And there was a fire burning in what used to be the library.
Stepping cautiously through the door, Rabastan drew his wand. The room appeared to be completely empty but for the fire and the table placed in front of it. Upon which was his vault key.
"Don't you be going no where with that, mister," said small voice from behind him as he summoned the key from the table. A glance around revealed a small house elf brandishing a wooden spoon. She was old, even for a house elf, and she clutched the spoon as if it were her only friend. The eyes that stared up at him were pleading rather than demanding because it was obvious she could no longer do anything to stop intruders from doing as they pleased.
"Put that down, Till. It's me -- Rabastan," he clarified as her eyes widened in confusion. She dropped the spoon after spending a moment examining his face and toddled up to him, smiling.
"Till has been waiting for the masters to come home," she said softly, if not a little hopefully.
"And now I'm going again," he waved the vault key, "Thank you for looking after it." The house elf stood in the middle of the hall, watching him head for the doorway. There was a faint glimmer of excitement when he turned back. "Till, don't tell anyone I was hear. You didn't see me. You've not seen me since before I was arrested. You don't know where my vault key disappeared to." Turning back to the door, Rabastan left Till going over his instructions in her head, repeating them over and over again. The creature may have been quite stupid, but she was loyal.
Location: Fieran Hall (home, sweet home)
Date: 25th August
Status: Private
Summary: His pockets are emptying quickly and he wants his sodding Gringotts vault key.
Completion: Complete
There was an area in Oxford -- now in the centre of the Oxford Green Belt -- that drew Rabastan like a moth to the flame. After Apparating to eleven different locations, he finally decided it was safe enough to call in. As far as he knew, no one had come after him despite his brazen appearances in Diagon Alley. This was vaguely disappointing, but he couldn't deny the convenience.
Now he stood on the threshold of where he knew the family's magical barricades started. If a Muggle tried to move any closer they would suddenly turn back, running in fear from a foe they would remain forever adamant was chasing then home. It was certainly interesting to watch, at any rate. At the moment, everything in front of him looked like fields although apparently no one had ever thought to question the minor detail of an utter lack of crops and livestock. In fact, the grass was almost too green. Still, it looked a little different on the other side. Rabastan let his feet follow the familiar trail home, although now it looked quite different. The plants were climbing over themselves and everything else. The place hadn't seen a gardener for years.
The gates seemed to mourn this arrival, and he sneered internally, patting the engraved name like it was a long lost friend. Fieran Hall. As if that name held any meaning to the Lestranges any more, with both parents dead. Even his father could only remember how they were connected when prompted by brandy.
The path was covered with... things. Some of them were alive, some long deceased. At least three of them looked like mutated gnomes.
Inside the house was dusty and cold and felt like something the Slytherin girls used to tell horror stories about in first year. He was more than a little annoyed to discover the door had been left unlocked, but nothing of interest had been taken, if anything. Desks and bookshelves were overturned, furniture was upside down, pans and cooking utensils were now in the parlour.
And there was a fire burning in what used to be the library.
Stepping cautiously through the door, Rabastan drew his wand. The room appeared to be completely empty but for the fire and the table placed in front of it. Upon which was his vault key.
"Don't you be going no where with that, mister," said small voice from behind him as he summoned the key from the table. A glance around revealed a small house elf brandishing a wooden spoon. She was old, even for a house elf, and she clutched the spoon as if it were her only friend. The eyes that stared up at him were pleading rather than demanding because it was obvious she could no longer do anything to stop intruders from doing as they pleased.
"Put that down, Till. It's me -- Rabastan," he clarified as her eyes widened in confusion. She dropped the spoon after spending a moment examining his face and toddled up to him, smiling.
"Till has been waiting for the masters to come home," she said softly, if not a little hopefully.
"And now I'm going again," he waved the vault key, "Thank you for looking after it." The house elf stood in the middle of the hall, watching him head for the doorway. There was a faint glimmer of excitement when he turned back. "Till, don't tell anyone I was hear. You didn't see me. You've not seen me since before I was arrested. You don't know where my vault key disappeared to." Turning back to the door, Rabastan left Till going over his instructions in her head, repeating them over and over again. The creature may have been quite stupid, but she was loyal.