Marley Hazelbright looks like a mother. The kind you would see on advertisements for laundry soap, quick dinners or long holidays. Her features are not striking so much as comfortable, her hair swings easily, just at her shoulders. She looks like a mother. Which, indeed, she is. Her two daughters remind her of the fact constantly. Her girls are aged two years apart but their birthdays are just one day apart. What weighs heavily on her mind at the moment is that she had missed both of those birthdays. This priority of thought is odd because she is, at the moment, in a dark forest facing a pair of Death Eaters. The mission that brought her into this conflict also caused her to miss her daughters birthdays. That thought is a great motivator in the coming altercation.
She raises her blue wand (stained her favorite color by her youngest) and parries, easily, her adversaries opening advances. The third Death Eater, closing on her back, seems, at first, to have escaped her notice. She is far too experienced an auror to be caught in such a manner. The only other explanation would be that she is, simply, not concerned about the ambush. The reason for her apathy is soon apparent.
A snowstorm of pure white fur sails in and clamps his fangs around the skulking Death Eater's wand hand. There is a crunch that could only be bone and all present wince. Marley takes advantage of the other two's shock and binds them both.
The procedure of disarming and restraining the Dark Lord’s minions has become a matter of course in the several weeks since her sometime partner had approached her with the mission they were now on. At the request of Albus Dumbledore, how could she refuse? And speaking of said partner…
The wolf trots behind a large tree and from behind said tree a voice growls, "Accio robes." A set of earth tone robes float through the air and as they pass Marley she grabs them. Almost instantly the upper part of a figure appears from behind the tree. It is Snow. In contrast to the top of his head, he is almost as shaggy as the animal he just transfigured from.
Solomon Snow has a fearsome reputation as an auror. One of the most powerful wizards alive and can track where none should be able to. The fact that he is an animagus and the form he takes, makes him first choice to hunt werewolves. All in all a wizard not to be trifled with... and yet, Marley is trifling with him and has trifled with him for years. This is evident in the weary and well-practiced tones issuing from the naked man behind the tree.
"Marley, give me my clothes."
The girlish reply is, "Why don't you come and get them, Sol?"
"You get such a giggle every time you do this, how much longer can this possibly amuse you?"
"Forever. Sorry."
A growl issues from Solomon's throat, giving one the impression that he has not fully transformed into a human being.
"Oh, Sol, why can't you just stay in your wolf form it's such a beautiful animal and his temper is certainly better."
She releases the robes and they float to their owner. Solomon emerges fully clothed from his hiding place, putting away his wand which, upon close inspection, has teeth marks.
“My temper is just fine around everyone else. You just enjoy provoking me.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” She smiles that smile that says she knows just what he means.
He returns a mock scowl which barely conceals a smile of his own. She giggles, for it is the very reaction she had hoped for. All is well… Then she does it again. “So, did your doggie nose find any trace of our quarry?"
Again, after a sigh, lips that have issued these words before speak. "Right off, I do not transfigure into a 'doggie'. As to the pertinent part of your question, yes, she camped here for about 2 days."
"Recently?"
"Left early this morning, I should think."
"Then, we're close to finding her."
"Indeed." He glances around at the stricken Death Eaters. "Let's hope we're the only ones."
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Just Like Old Times
"Hoppin' Hobgoblins, it's him!"
For all it's intensity, the exclamation is spoken in a whisper. As are all those that follow, around and about Hogwarts courtyard. "I knew from his pictures that he was bald but I didn't think he was that short." "Right then, Badely, you step right up to one of the most powerful wizards alive and tell him he's a runt." A young girls whisper is heard. "He's an animagus you know, he becomes a arctic wolf." "I heard that he's a wolf that becomes a man." "Oh, honestly, Irene." "... the auror who caught..." "...can find anyone." "...only hunts the really bad ones!" "Who do you think he's after?" "...wonder if it's safe?" "Maybe we should head back to our rooms."
And then, at last, a mans voice spoken full, "Oh young lady, could you tell me where I could find Prof. McGonagall?" Prof. McGonagall turns in her usual form to enlighten he who has posed the question, only to be, herself, educated. Her eyes widen and her legendary calm is nudged aside by a wide smile but only briefly. Her stoicism is back in a blink. "Solomon Snow! You know very well who I am. This flirtatious behavior may seem quite charming but is not an appropriate way to address a professor." He smiles at the rebuff. It is an easy smile, one could tell that it came to his face often. Even with the smile his face is no-nonsense. Strong jaw, deep, wide set eyes and the touch of white at his sideburns showed that he had been who he was for quite some time. His top robe was sleeveless, all of his attire was loose fitting and of earth tones. He had more the look of a Barbary Coast pirate than of a wizard. Snow is undaunted by the professors stern manner. "Why haven't you aged?" Almost flustered. "I should pour veritaserum down your throat... but I enjoy your lies too much." "Not lies, Minerva, just the way I see things." She calls him incorrigible but hugs him anyway.
As they part from each other, they look to see a small knot of first years looking intently at them. McGonagall responds. “You will not absorb knowledge by growing roots and drawing it up from the ground. The best way is by study. So I suggest you find some place more suitable to that end.” All but two of the young students hurry along. The two boys left are riveted on Snow. He smiles a little smile that one of his position should not smile, for it can only be called… mischievous. He lowers his eyelids, slowly and then raises them in the same fashion. But in place of his, brown, all too human eyes are a pair of black rimmed wolf eyes. One of the boys gasps and bolts to catch up with his classmates. The other just stares and whispers “Wicked!”. Snow then smiles a broad smile displaying two rows of bright white, long, canine teeth. The last boy gulps and runs fast enough to pass his friend. Snow brings his lips together and closes his eyelids. When he opens them his brown eyes fall upon McGonagall, who is scowling. “If I haven’t aged then you have not matured. You would use that trick to scare your classmates when you were a student here.” That smile again, then Snow speaks. “Wasn’t it you who said ’When you find a method that suits you and is effective, adhere to it’?” “That was in regard to practical application, not pranks.” “Well, the students are headed to their classrooms.”
It is McGonagall who smiles this time but only for a moment until concern washes over her face and she draws a deep breath to ask a serious question. "Did Albus send for you?" "Yes" “I suppose it’s too much to hope that he just wanted to reminisce about old times.” “Just the reverse. He seems to have an eye toward the future and a grim one at that.” There is a brief silence, their eye contact providing all the communication necessary. Snow tries to shift the mood. “And speaking of grim, your students seem a bit concerned. Let them know that I‘m not tracking any dangerous wizard at present. Assure them that they are quite safe.” She looks at him for a moment. “Well I shall try but given the rumors of the Dark Lord’s return coupled with Albus Dumbledore requesting a conference with a wizard of your caliber and abilities, I believe that most of my students are bright enough to question such an assurance.” Snow opens his mouth to speak but can say nothing. He is as stumped by her logic as when he was a student. She is, of course, quite right.
For all it's intensity, the exclamation is spoken in a whisper. As are all those that follow, around and about Hogwarts courtyard. "I knew from his pictures that he was bald but I didn't think he was that short." "Right then, Badely, you step right up to one of the most powerful wizards alive and tell him he's a runt." A young girls whisper is heard. "He's an animagus you know, he becomes a arctic wolf." "I heard that he's a wolf that becomes a man." "Oh, honestly, Irene." "... the auror who caught..." "...can find anyone." "...only hunts the really bad ones!" "Who do you think he's after?" "...wonder if it's safe?" "Maybe we should head back to our rooms."
And then, at last, a mans voice spoken full, "Oh young lady, could you tell me where I could find Prof. McGonagall?" Prof. McGonagall turns in her usual form to enlighten he who has posed the question, only to be, herself, educated. Her eyes widen and her legendary calm is nudged aside by a wide smile but only briefly. Her stoicism is back in a blink. "Solomon Snow! You know very well who I am. This flirtatious behavior may seem quite charming but is not an appropriate way to address a professor." He smiles at the rebuff. It is an easy smile, one could tell that it came to his face often. Even with the smile his face is no-nonsense. Strong jaw, deep, wide set eyes and the touch of white at his sideburns showed that he had been who he was for quite some time. His top robe was sleeveless, all of his attire was loose fitting and of earth tones. He had more the look of a Barbary Coast pirate than of a wizard. Snow is undaunted by the professors stern manner. "Why haven't you aged?" Almost flustered. "I should pour veritaserum down your throat... but I enjoy your lies too much." "Not lies, Minerva, just the way I see things." She calls him incorrigible but hugs him anyway.
As they part from each other, they look to see a small knot of first years looking intently at them. McGonagall responds. “You will not absorb knowledge by growing roots and drawing it up from the ground. The best way is by study. So I suggest you find some place more suitable to that end.” All but two of the young students hurry along. The two boys left are riveted on Snow. He smiles a little smile that one of his position should not smile, for it can only be called… mischievous. He lowers his eyelids, slowly and then raises them in the same fashion. But in place of his, brown, all too human eyes are a pair of black rimmed wolf eyes. One of the boys gasps and bolts to catch up with his classmates. The other just stares and whispers “Wicked!”. Snow then smiles a broad smile displaying two rows of bright white, long, canine teeth. The last boy gulps and runs fast enough to pass his friend. Snow brings his lips together and closes his eyelids. When he opens them his brown eyes fall upon McGonagall, who is scowling. “If I haven’t aged then you have not matured. You would use that trick to scare your classmates when you were a student here.” That smile again, then Snow speaks. “Wasn’t it you who said ’When you find a method that suits you and is effective, adhere to it’?” “That was in regard to practical application, not pranks.” “Well, the students are headed to their classrooms.”
It is McGonagall who smiles this time but only for a moment until concern washes over her face and she draws a deep breath to ask a serious question. "Did Albus send for you?" "Yes" “I suppose it’s too much to hope that he just wanted to reminisce about old times.” “Just the reverse. He seems to have an eye toward the future and a grim one at that.” There is a brief silence, their eye contact providing all the communication necessary. Snow tries to shift the mood. “And speaking of grim, your students seem a bit concerned. Let them know that I‘m not tracking any dangerous wizard at present. Assure them that they are quite safe.” She looks at him for a moment. “Well I shall try but given the rumors of the Dark Lord’s return coupled with Albus Dumbledore requesting a conference with a wizard of your caliber and abilities, I believe that most of my students are bright enough to question such an assurance.” Snow opens his mouth to speak but can say nothing. He is as stumped by her logic as when he was a student. She is, of course, quite right.
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