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Death Chamber
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The always silent Death Chamber feels even more so as loose bits of gravel begin rolling across the bleak flooring towards the North West corner of the room. |
The veil held a great fascination for Aslan Evans. The voices whispered and she listened, waiting for a sound familiar enough to understand. it hasn’t yet come, but that was fine. She could wait. Patient. Quiet. Aslan held the battered notebook loosely in hand, her dark eyes never moving from the veil. Lost in the corridors of her mind, the alchemist did not hear the bits of gravel or feel then tension brewing in the room. connection. loss. between & betwixt. this room was a pathway. An inbetween without meaning or rhyme. Logic lived here in this place, but it died in this chamber. Eyes glazed over, Aslan quietly her lower lip. |
open post! The break away from this place had done David a lot of good. He was back now, feeling refreshed, not a bit foggy, and more determined than ever to crack some of the mysteries of this place. Mystery number one for him to solve? He glanced over his shoulder to be sure he was alone and then pulled the pair of white gloves out of his pocket. He had so many questions about them. But should he start here or move to Level Three, as he had been thinking? David hesitated, staring simply at the gloves in his hand, lost in thought... |
Jane stared out into the Death Chamber as the door opened. Thank Merlin the Entry Room had deposited her in the right place this time--she'd lost a lot of time in the Hall of Prophecy with that rock golem, or whatever it had really been. But now, finally, she was here. She placed a foot on the top step and took a breath. At last she would be able to get a look at that infamous archway in the middle of the chamber. Slowly but deliberately she began to walk down the steps. |
"Yes...Yes, of course...I promise. Same time next month...Yes. Yes. We will try the cake with the strawberry next time...Tell them I said hello. Take care." With a empty tea cup, a plate with a fork, and a blue flamed candle between himself and the archway; Nero knelt at the dais at the bottom of the stairs. Rising slowly to his feet with a sigh, the doctor dusted off his tailored pants with dragon leather gloves. "You just missed tea and cake." He spoke to the feet he heard coming down the steps behind him. |
Jane stopped her progress down the stairs at the sound of a voice--she had thought she was alone here. She paused a minute, a little taken aback by his comment, and then a slight smile came over her face. "Well, that's a pity, I could really use a cup of tea about now. She continued down the steps till she reached man who had spoken to her and then nodded politely. "Jane Howard, alchemist. I'm new here. And you are...?" |
Framed by the eerie blue candle on the dais, Nero's shadow loomed over the guest he had turned to meet, and stretched up the stairs she had descended. "Doctor Nero Nykto, mortemist. The only one left. I am very old here." Though the stubble faced man appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties, his blue (not unlike the flame on his candle) eyes, hinted at someone much older. Taking a moment to look at Jane, the doctor tried to find some hint that she might not be who she said she was, or have some sort of unknown intentions. Without warning, a hand that held babies during their first breath and men at their last, reached out for Jane. "You look like you lost your pillow fight." Nero plucked a stray feather from the woman's hair, rolling it between thumb and forefinger. |
Jane started slightly as the strange man suddenly reached over to touch her, or so it seemed. When she saw what he had in his hand, she was both amused and embarrassed--drat, she thought she had gotten all those feathers out. "More like a fight with a rock golem--or so it seemed, now I'm not so sure." Jane smoothed her hands over her hair to try to get rid of any remaining feathers that might be there. |
“I would have loved to have seen that!” He said, with a surprisingly warm laugh. “As long as nobody was hurt.” Nero added sheepishly. “Many study life and death as if they were two separate things, but a dangerous situation can show how thin the line between them can be.” The veil behind him was an enduring example of how easily one could cross the line. One little push, and that’d be it for the doctor. “But you’re not here to listen to me wax poetic. Were you looking to talk to someone? Mrs. Witherby likes to have tea and cake with me once a month. She doesn’t actually partake, but she likes to imagine.” Nero was strangely casual about his interactions with the deceased. The poor woman probably thought he was crazy. Perhaps he was. |
Jane did not really know this man or anything about him, but she found him strangely intriguing and rather likeable. And he seemed to know something about her department, which is more than she knew herself right now. "Well, I didn't love seeing it at the time, but yes, I suppose it was something out of the ordinary. I..." Jane pondered a minute his question about talking to someone. She didn't for the life of her know. If Helena was in there somewhere, Jane would love nothing better than to talk to her dear friend. But Jane had no idea if her former school chum were alive or dead, and she wasn't ready to find out for sure right now. "No, I don't want to talk to anyone...not right now, at least. I just came to see it." The archway. She didn't say it, but she knew he would understand what she meant. Jane was not a particularly suspicious person, but on the other hand, she was not one to blabber secrets to any passing stranger. But she somehow felt she could trust this odd man. "Actually, I'd like to talk to you for a bit, if you've time. Would you mind if we sat? It's been a very long day." And without waiting for a response, she seated herself wearily upon a nearby step. |
hello you two David was here, of course. Where else would he be? Certainly not in the Chamber of Codes, ahem. He was sitting on a stone step on the other side of the veil, scribbling furiously in a small moleskin notebook which fit exactly in the palm of his hand. He looked up as the voices of Nero and...Jane, was it?.... caught his ear. He considered going over to talk to them, to possibly save Jane from another one of Nero's delusions, but thought better of it. The alchemist snorted to himself and continued whatever he was writing. |
Anyone reading this thread is welcome to join and embrace the weird. "That would be splendid. I should really take more time to talk to the living." Sometimes it was hard to tell if he was joking or not. Taking his plate and tea cup with him, Nero's blue framed shadow shrunk as he left the dais to join Jane for a seat. Letting out a relaxed sigh, the doctor's shoulders drooped slightly, a rare glimpse that there was a man under all the mystery. "What is on your mind? First, know that our friends may be listening." Nero motioned a gloved hand towards the veil atop the dais. "And our fellow employees." His hand drifted to David and his notebook on the other side of the room, framing the man in his hand, as if he could squish him. A paranoid, perhaps even egotistical, part of him assumed that the man was taking notes on him, and what he did in the Death Chamber. Always someone keeping track of the "mad" doctor and his eccentricities. |
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"This is my first day at the Ministry. I was on my way up to Airy Flamsteed's office to report in when the Entry Hall let me off at the Hall of Prophecy instead. When I got there, I found that a number of the prophecy orbs were broken and an Unspeakable there asked me to help her investigate. To make a long story short, it turned out that a rock golem was loose in the Hall. A number of others joined us, tried various spells, and in the end, Mr. Flamsteed himself arrived and destroyed it with a Confringo spell. But instead of exploding into rocks and boulders, the golem turned into stuffing and...feathers." Jane gestured to another stray feather she had just noticed on her lap. "I left them upstairs cataloging the lost orbs and came here. I never did get to formally introduce myself to Mr. Flamsteed, but he didn't seem in the mood to talk to anyone when he left. This is my first chance to see this chamber. And so that's been my first day at work." Jane smiled wryly. "So tell me--what do you think of that? Doesn't it seem odd that a rock golem turned out to be made of nothiing more than cotton and feathers? And does this sort of thing happen often around here?" Jane glanced down at his empty cup, wishing she had thought of getting a cup of tea herself before coming here (though she didn't really know where you got one at the Ministry). |
The scratching of David's quill paused, and then stopped entirely as he obviously began listening to Jane. He wasn't even pretending to not be listening, as he did, in fact, lock his bright blue eyes on her. Staring at her, he was. Ignoring Nero, he was. The notes he had been taking were pushed aside as he stared intently at Jane without blinking. He had thoughts about golems turning into feathers, but more important to him was the question of Prof--- er, Airey, and whatever spell he had cast to destroy him. And then there was the question of Airey's moods. David had been on the receiving end of one of those moods before.... hadn't...he? He couldn't recall. Maybe he was thinking of a time at Hogwarts. Maybe. The young Unspeakable had a question for Jane, though. He cleared his throat louder this time and nodded to her, to see if he had her attention. "Were any of the orbs destroyed, then?" The prophecies, obviously. |
Nero sat and listened intently to Jane's tale, nodding his head as she spoke, small "Mmhmm"'s escaping his lips. Resting a foot on his knee, the doctors shoes looked old and worn, a sharp contrast to his impeccably laundered clothes. "Sounds like the department sent you where you really needed to be. Would Flamsteed have stopped the golem if you were keeping him busy at his office?" The doctor didn't expect her to answer, nor gave her the chance to. "There is always a golem, a dark wizard, Ministry of Monsters, or cursed artifact." The ministry was anything but boring. "Well, stone golems are popular because they are easy to assemble: You just need rocks. Though dragging some boulders into the ministry might draw some attention, so taking taking the time and effort to transfigure a bunch of pillows would technically be possible if someone had the skill and inclination. It reminds me of the time that--" Before he could rant further, David's voice filled the room. "Care to join us, Truebridge? No need to drop eaves, we're all friends here." A bit flippant, but it was a good question, and sparked another question that left Nero's mouth before the thought finished forming. "Do they know if any orbs are missing? Big golem makes a big distraction.." |
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Then Jane's thoughts went back to the doctor's earlier remarks about golems--how it would be easy to transfigure one out of pillows. "And actually--that's what I was saying over in Prophecy--that the golem must have been created by someone, since it was so obviously artificial. And my question was, who was that someone, and why? But no one seemed to want to pursue that discussion." Maybe it was because she was new and not of their department, Jane reflected. She certainly considered it a matter of interest and hoped someone was thinking about it, and long a hard, too. |
Yes, it was Mr. Truebridge. David glanced at Nero and then reluctantly collected himself and his notebook, and loped over to the pair of them, sitting down again on a lower step and stretching his long legos out below him. "You can call me David," he informed the woman finally. He was thinking more along the lines with Nero for a change; that this was no coincidence that such a ruckus had happened in the Hall of Prophecies. "Hang on, though," David put up one finger imperiously, "who exactly repaired the orbs? The prophecies?" If he had his glasses, he would have taken them off, given them a polish, and then incredulously put them on again. "I thought that was supposed to be impossible to do." |
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Nero was uncharacteristically quiet while the other two spoke. He was rather focused for a man who had a anecdote for every occasion. Once Jane finished, Nero rose without a word, and approached the dais. Inspecting his empty teacup, he looked toward the wizard and witch, before dropping it on the stone floor. "You may know more about prophecy than you think." Nero was looking down at the teacup, examining the pieces as if they had something to say. "You were looking for Flamsteed's office, and ended up in the Hall of Prophecy while it were under attack by a golem. Flamsteed, the person who you were looking for, shows up, and takes care of the problem. It is the Hall of Prophecy, not the Hall of Chance. You were meant to be there for some reason. What do you think that reason might be, Ms. Howard?" |
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So...she'd seen a lot of strange things, possibly aggravated the golem by the light of her wand, failed to make the desired introduction to her new boss, and...and what? Witnessed the whole thing, but she hadn't been the only one. For the life of her, she couldn't think of any earth-shattering reason that she had been brought there by Fate. "I..I'm afraid I don't really know. I mean...there was a witch there alone when I arrived, so I think I gave her some support by being there. I certainly didn't succeed at defeating the golem nor in repairing any orbs. I mostly was there as a...witness, I suppose, though not the only one. The other Unspeakables seemed not to be that upset--apparently this wasn't the first rock-golem to appear there." Which in itself wasn't a very good recommendation for her new job. But Jane wasn't going to let such a think deter her. And now she was curious about it all. "I'm really wishing I had more information about the whole thing--and perhaps I'll get it." |
David didn't jump at the sound of the teacup shattering; he was very busy staring off in the distance, one of his hands slowly rubbing at the stubble on his jaw as he thought through this. Airey had seemed to repair that orb with ease, no more trouble than it would take you to repair a broken teacup. But an orb was no mere teacup, and.... "Flamsteed was never that good at Charms," he mumbled to himself. "He--- we, er, well, I burned a hole in the door that one time, back at Hogwarts...." He shook his head. "I just don't understand how he could repair the prophecies like that." Unlike Nero, he didn't believe Jane had been brought anywhere for any particular reason. There was order in the universe and then there was chaos, brought about by random events and chance encounters, some of which led to great change. Jane's ordeal frankly sounded like the latter. |
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"I thought it...unusual, too, that Mr. Flamsteed was able to repair that orb--I had not thought such a thing was possible, though as I said, I don't have a lot of experience in that area. And none of the other people up there seemed to react to it very much--I don't know if they'd seen such things before, or were just trying to stay out of trouble." Remembering Flamsteed's scolding and curt demanor, Jane couldn't blame them--too much. "But the whole thing was odd--that the rock golem, obviously an artificial construct, was there in the first place, that Flamsteed destroyed it so easily when none of the others could, and that he also repaired a broken prophecy orb so casually. That's why I mentioned it here, because I don't believe in keeping odd occurrences a secret." Because usually that's what people who were up to no good counted on--secrecy. |
Mister Nykto and Mister Flamsteed had so far been successful at not having to deal with each other. Nero didn't care for involving himself in bureaucracy, and the authority within the ministry seemed to be more than happy to treat the doctor like a fixture, leaving him to do his job at the Death Chamber with little oversight. "We put our teacups back together one piece at a time here." Kneeling down over the broken cup, Nero scooped up three of the larger shards in his dragon leather clad hand. "We can not just go around making accusations of our department head. We could lose our jobs, or if we are right and don't have proof, we could be in much more trouble." Standing back to his full height, Nero approached his two seated coworkers. "You should take a meeting with Flamsteed. He may not be as guarded around a new employee that he can influence." Nero held a shard out to Jane in one hand. "Truebridge. Perhaps one of his former students can gain further insight." The other shard was offered to David. Symbols that they could put the pieces of this mystery together, and perhaps a form of identification in case someone was no longer who they said they were. |
Still staring off into the distance as he puzzled over something fuzzy in the back of his brain, David wordlessly accepted the shard of teacup from Nero. Accusations? He shook his head and snapped back to the present. No one was making accusations... but maybe they should have been. He looked at Jane for a pause too long. "It is our job to keep odd occurrences a secret," he reminded her tersely. But that said... if they were going to send anyone to talk to Airey, David decided it should be Jane. Not him. He was feeling anxious just at the mere idea of taking a meeting with his former professor; more anxious than normal and he wasn't entirely sure why. "Perhaps we should just watch him," he concluded with a small sigh. "For more signs of... advanced magical ability or... rock golems." Or who knew what Flamsteed would be up to next. |
Jane was roused from her thoughts by Nero's approach. She solemnly accepted the teacup shard he offered her, and was reminded of the other shard she was carrying in an inner pocket. While she was in the Hall of Prophecy, she had absently picked up one of the stray shards from an orb and put it in her pocket. Now she was reminded of it, and wondered if it would yield any information if she subjected it to some...experiments. For that matter, she had not yet asked the question she had initially wanted to ask. "I'm not sure Mr. Flamsteed will want to see me again so soon--he was in a bit of a temper when he left the Hall of Prophecy. Though his letter did instruct me to report to his office, which I've not managed yet. I'll...consider it." Jane hesitated to make more trouble for herself, though she also doubted that Flamsteed would even recognize her as having been one of those in the Hall of Prophecy, he'd been so preoccupied and dismissive. "By the way--do either of you know what one does for a workspace in this department? A desk, or a laboratory? As full of secrets as this Chamber is, it's not quite the right place to sit down and take notes, or brew. An alchemist, after all, required space and some specialized equipment. And Jane had not been off her feet all day, not counting sitting on this hard and cold marble step. |
Pardon my tardiness. First post of 2021! Briefly pausing to take account that none out of the three wanted to be the one to investigate Flamsteed. Jane gave them all an opportunity to talk about something else. "Well.." Nero cleared his throat, touching his chest with a hand. "Permanent work stations in the Death Chamber are forbidden due to concerns of being near the veil for long periods of time." Another quiet throat clearing, his voice now sounding less like Vincent Price, and more like some lawyer"We are to report to a superior if we experience any of the following: Nausea, headaches, bad dreams, experiencing someone else's dreams, depression, deja vu, or death." With a laugh, the doctor gave the pair a wink. "I'll make you a key for my work station if you promise not to tell on me. And try not to have any feelings you would not like share if you use any of my equipment. My psychometry has been rather sensitive lately." Adjusting his gloves, Nero was tempted to reach out for Truebridge’s notebook, and see what he could gleam from it. |
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She followed the doctor's eye over to Mr. Truebridge and his notebook, and smiled again--he rather reminded her of her old pupil, Violet Blackthorne, and her ever-present journals. Speaking of Violet, she was reminded that she hadn't had a response to her last letter to her. Perhaps she'd been unable to respond, though she had sent it to Hogwarts last spring on purpose, hoping the girl would be able to receive it away from the prying eyes of her family. But she'd received no response at all, not last spring nor over the entire summer. Violet must be back at school by now, surely she would be able to write back--if she wanted to, that is. Perhaps she was still angry with her former governess for taking her back to her grandfather. Jane made yet another mental note to check up on this as well. |
"The Assembly Chamber or Chamber of Codes are my favourites to work in," David offered, unprompted, to Jane's question. "There are also some offices off the Love Chamber..." If they wanted to take the risk in entering that room. He popped open his little notebook again and scribbled something down, not observing Nero's creeping hand from the corner of his eye. He needed to get to work brewing something. "Perhaps you could ask Flamsteed when you set up your meeting with him, Jane," he added, still scribbling away furiously. |
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"Yes, thank you, thank you both, that's a good idea," she replied watching with amusement the scene playing out between Truebridge with his notebook and Nero's advancing hand. She had half turned to go, but was still looking back over her shoulder to see how this would play out. |
Catching Jane's glance, Nero used his creeping hand to wave her farewell with a wry smile on his face. "Best of luck with your meeting! I'll be sure to have some tea awaiting your return!" The older wizard called up after her, his voice filling the normally somber chamber. The doctor had seen the sunrise and the sunset of many a witch and wizard, but even the chamber of Death could not darken his spirits when he witnessed a new dawn. "May I be of any assistance to you, mister Upstead? I really should be spending more time amongst the living." The younger man's scribbling had piqued his curiosity, fighting the urge to pry further. |
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David did not immediately reply to Nero, his hand still scribbling so fast it was miraculous that he did not smear the ink on the page. Well. It was a rather charmed notebook, after all. A long silent moment passed before he realized that Nero had spoken to him, and then there was an awkward (to him) pause as he realized he'd just been called an Upstead? Was Nero unwell, or had David misheard him? "Pardon?" Davie looked up, shutting his notebook at last. "Who is Mister Upstead?" Had Nero moved on to conversing with those behind the curtain, then? |
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The bright purple airplane was embossed with the golden letterhead of the Ministry along with the silver emblem of the Department of International Cooperation and the bright red of the word confidential. It was addressed to Jane Howard around whose head it was circling. It seemed pretty insistence that the Unspeakable open it and followed it's instructions which included 'please destroy after reading.' |
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Glancing over her shoulder at the others in the room, she moved her body to shield their view from the contents of the letter. She read its contents hastily as she continued walking out of the Death Chamber and, the minute she passed the threshhold and was out of view, took out her wand and blasted it into ashes before she departed through the Entry Chamber of the Department of Mysteries. |
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"No offense, mister Truebridge." He had hoped saying his name again would help him remember. "I am rather forgetful. Especially with names. Sometimes I forget my own, and have to pick a new one. I find alliteration helps." Nero, who once struck fear in the hearts of men and wizards alike, looked almost pitiful with the disappointed look on his face as he rubbed his temples with two fingers. "Now was there something I can help you with mister Up-- Truebridge? Your frantic note taking has made me rather curious, I must confess." |
Yes, that was his name. What? David looked puzzled, still, particularly since Nero seemed... frazzled, suddenly. The man had picked his own name? Riiiight. He shook his head at the old bat and stood up, just in time to nearly be hit in the head by a fancy airplane soaring right over to Jane. David quirked an eyebrow in its direction but did not do much else, moving instead to head out the door behind Jane, but not so close that he'd see where she was going or anything like that. He didn't care, frankly. He'd been spending as little time in the Department as he could, ever since that incident that day in the Chamber of Codes... ...which reminded him that he should go have another look at those gloves, but where had he hid them in this room....? David stopped walking and stood lost in thought for another moment, his face entirely blank as his mind was elsewhere in time and space, ruminating, thinking, considering...... until Nero's speaking again made him blink his way out of it. "Hmm what?" Now who was the space cadet? "You wish to see my notes?" He hugged his notebook closer to him, suddenly looking more like the Ravenclaw boy he once was and less like the cold, polished man he currently was. "They're of a personal nature, I'm afraid." Afraid, yes, he did sometimes feel that in this room. Not that he'd ever admit it aloud, nor in writing. ...the gloves, he needed to go get the gloves. He turned and trotted down the stairs again, cutting a swift arc around the veil and then up the stairs on the other side, over by his original seat before Jane had entered this chamber. His gloves were here, they were. He needed to see them again, for research purposes. |
The tide had changed. As David lost his focus, Nero gained his. "There is nothing to fear here, mister Truebridge." The doctor knew exactly who David was, no Upstead to be found. "This is a place of peace." Nero did not turn immediately when the younger man passed by him to go look for his gloves. Instead, the older man closed his blue eyes with a sigh. Though most saw him as strange and aloof, Nero saw a little of himself in everyone that came into his chamber. There was no indication that he had followed David back up the stairs, but a shift of the shadows in the room placed Nero in a seat near where David had sat when he first noticed him while talking to Jane. "Something brought you here, David. I only wish to help." Though he put the mystery in the department of mysteries, there was something oddly sincere and warm in his voice. "Whatever happens in the coming days, I will be here." Nero wanted to reach out towards the troubled young man, but had to rely on his words to touch him. The teacup lay broken on the floor. |
...did he? Only wish to help? David was immediately on guard again, his gloves quickly in hand and then in his pocket, all in a flash before Nero could really see what he was grabbing. His face was momentarily cloudy and judgmental in Nero's direction, particulalry since the old man seemed to be really laying it on thick toward him. "Glad to hear it," he replied tonelessly. Sure. Consistent attendance did bring about consistent research results. Then he was heading up the stairs and away, exiting the room. |
*ahem* Much time had past since the events of the gala and there was a matter that the department head had to address. With a couple of scrolls in hand and a levitating crate following dutifully along side of him, Airey entered the Death Chamber and made his way around the various work stations and alcoves occupied by the Unspeakables who frequented this space. He was searching for something in particular and he acknowledged none. |
David was in his work alcove, of sorts, not nearly as close to the arch today. He was busy flipping through his journal for some... note he'd left to himself, and looked up only because he heard footsteps of a longer, smoother stride, and that was rather rare for this chamber. After all, Nero hadn't been here in how long? And Jane was not as tall as he was, so her gait came quicker; but these steps.... He craned his neck to peek at the department head moving through as though on autopilot. (That was the Muggle expression, yes?) And then there were scrolls behind him? How curious. "Hello, Professor," he called out brightly, though one would think that a former Ravenclaw as intelligent as Davie would have learned by now to not greet his department head in such a manner. One would think this, yes, but an obliviate by the Elder Wand is a rather strong obliviate. And so, he added onto his greeting, in a manner that gave him a faint, lingering feeling of déjà vu: "What do you need help with finding, sir? |
Yes...it was a muggle expression and one that Airey Flamsteed would be familiar with. Typically speaking, that is. Today may yield different results. The man cast a cursory glance towards the Veil itself, the intelligible whispers and murmurings seeming to increase in volume as the lanky blonde moved. One may have even expected for him to be lured towards it, but he hardly even flinched as he continued his patrol of sorts until he knelt down to pick up a locket that had been discarded here. Perhaps violently so. "Yes," he replied coolly to the young Truebridge, not feeling the need to correct him on the professor at this moment. It did not matter. "I am collecting the belongings and research of Nero Nykto that may be left in this Chamber. The research is property of the Department of Mysteries and needs to be moved to the Hall of Records. Personal possessions and other excess may be discarded." He casually flipped open the locket, a moving image of a woman being affectionate with the departed Unspeakable inside. His cloudy blue eyes looked it over another moment before tossing it haphazardly into one of the boxes. And then an additional curious thought was tugged in his memory, his lips twitching in resistance before the words formed. "...and tell me...what you know of Jane Howard." She had been close to this Nykto character and had gifted Airey with a very potent brew he was waiting for the opportune moment to try...and a possible loose end to the cause. |
.....hmm. David's cheerful expression definitely, slowly hardened into one of chilly calculation as he listened to the professor's robotic response. He was suddenly reminded of a conversation he, Nero, and Jane had had once, a brief conversation involving a teacup and this very room. How should he reply though? As yes, with the cheer. "What do you mean, sir, that you need to move Dr. Nero's things?" Davie had slipped out from behind his desk and silently stood next to the professor now, his hands in his trouser pockets, his fine suit (much like the department head's) with not so much as a wrinkle on it, his robes hanging lightly from his shoulders over it. "Did he... resign...?" Er? David was almost certain he had seen the old man at that strange opening gala, the one where he'd had to pretend everything was alright for Jessica's sake, all whilst parading around with a stupid name tag that read PUREBLOOD in the world's LARGEST font on his chest. He'd hated it, though he had also spotted his department head there, and had been pretty sure they'd made eye contact and all. He cleared his throat and nudged the former professor lightly with his elbow, elbow to elbow, man to man. "Are you alright, Admiral? You've been looking rather thin lately. I'm worried about you." And he felt terrible that he had waited so long to say anything, but the man was hardly available nowadays. Plus, Davie was no snitch, so he wasn't about to reveal a word about his newer colleague, Jane.... He'd thought it best to just change subjects entirely. Kill two basilisks with one sword. Etc. Etc. |
Any change in the Unspeakable's appearance and demeanor went unacknowledged, though not entirely unnoticed. And if there was a teacup somewhere in this chamber ... it had no place here and also needed discarded appropriately. No one should be having tea in the Death Chamber of all places. "He is no longer employed here," the man replied with the same monotone but with a sharpness to the enunciation that was not there previously. His shoulders were already rigid prior to the young man's approach, but it was almost as though someone had pulled the strings more taut with the influence of those bright blue naïve and innocent eyes. "You are not of the authority to be privy to more." And for David's own sake, it would be best he seek no further information either. Something that was attempted to be conveyed in the awkward twitch of Airey's pinky finger. Admiral struck a nerve, one that lead to an itch that had that pinky finger twitching a bit more, but the moment passed quickly and efficiently. "I am fine, Mr. Truebridge. Though the same may not be said for you if you do not comply and answer my query." |
Crashing! "David," Adam said as he walked into the room. He was holding a piece of parchment close to his face as he walked in. "I vas vonder if you haf a moment to look at - oh..." He felt, more then he saw that David wasn't alone and in fact it was the one person that Adam often tried to avoid while at work. Airy Flamsteed. Great...he'd been doing a fairly good job of avoding the man and here he went and walked right into a confrontation...or something. He wasn't quite sure what was going on as he rolled up the piece of parchment and quickly stuck it in a pocket. He certainly was too fair away to see what was going on since he was, you know visually impaired. He was fidgeting with his glasses. "Forgife - I did not know you vere hafing a meeting. I come back later." And normally, that was Adam's cue to turn on his heel to walk out, but something wouldn't let him. Although he desperately wished it would. |
Yes, there was definitely more than one thing off about the Admiral today. Davie noticed the professor's hands twitching and felt his own fingers twitch toward his wand in its holster. But before he could reply, or not, one of their colleagues walked in.... Adam. Hmm. This was an interesting wrench in the plan. "Oh, no, you're.... right on time," he replied to his colleague lightly, noticing his fidgeting and pulling one of his own hands out of his pocket so he could...jovially...awkwardly... pat Adam on the shoulder. Just the distraction he needed, huh. David let his hand linger on his fellow Unspeakable's shoulder for a beat too long, perhaps as an extended signal that he should stay, really stay, and join their discussion. "Adam, what did you need? I'm sorry, Admiral, I'll answer you in just a second." David was careful to keep his tone light and casual this entire time. |
Gerulf. The man's jaw set upon the other Unspeakable's arrival, yet another who needed an evaluation to their usefulness as well as potential longevity in this new world. And then when the younger Unspeakable spoke, the department head's brow creased and eyes narrowed. "Yes, what is it that you require Mr. Truebridge's assistance?" he inquired dryly and without even an ounce of genuine curiosity. Without any real indication of any emotion period, for that matter. "And after you receive your answer from Mr. Truebridge, perhaps you can answer one of my own." On that his younger co-worker resisted compliance and a strike against him. Again, Airey's finger twitched and twisted as these unsavory thoughts clouded his vision. |
Adam sorta just stood there fidgeting with his glasses and really honestly trying to turn around and walk out of the room. He was by no means a fighter. Nope if life had taught him anything, he was a survivor, which was why it was odd that he was not What did he want? "Um....," He forced himself to stop fidgeting with his glasses and stand up straight. Especially when Airey spoke up with his unusually clipped tone of voice. Not for the first time, in the past year or two, did Adam wonder if he had done something to upset the man. You know, beyond trying to eat the man's pet rock and generally trashing the man's office while under the influence of a way-ward brain. "I am hafing problem vit plant undt I know you haf background in herbology..." Yes, he could have gone up to Level 4, but this wasn't really something he wanted an employee outside of the department to look at. As for other questions - as long as they didn't involve asking him to go back into the Thought Chamber or the Space Chamber, Adam was game to help. Maybe. For some reason that sense of self-preservation was kicking in again but he still couldn't move. "Vhat questions?" He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets to keep them from fidgeting with his glasses again. Clearly they had been in the middle of something when he walked in and Adam wasn't really sure what he could help them out with. Nothing in this room was his specialty. |
Patience was thin and if he wanted to he had permission, technically speaking, to clean up shop in other ways than simply disposing of those personal affects of employees who were no longer employed here. An inquiry about a plant was yet another curious one and something the man could only assume was related to something being brewed. Airey nonchalantly slipped the tips of his fingers into the pocket on his blazer where his wand was kept. A threatening gesture? Perhaps. It was difficult to know considering the man's continued vacant expression. "My inquiry is much more pressing than a lack of knowledge about a plant. Unless you are about to infer that there is a mobile fleshing eating plant on the loose on our level, you will have to wait." There was a bit of an urgent glance towards David with this association, a memory tapped into and, perhaps, exploited. "My instructions come from the Minist------" And then the department head froze, his eyes wide and fingers clenched with his arms bent at the elbow as though he were holding a large beach ball in his hands. His jaw clenched, teeth grating against one another with such intensity it was a wonder one had not chipped. It was almost as though someone had struck him both with a Crucio and a Full-Body Binding Curse at the exactly same moment. Beads of sweat dotted his brow and in the next moment his lips parted to release a blood curdling scream of pain, terror, anguish. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" The man's limbs turned to overcooked spaghetti and his eyes rolled back in his head as Airey Flamsteed crumbled to his knees, free of the strings that had been puppeting him, on the ground. At the very last second his hands sprung into action and caught himself, palms down, on the floor of the Chamber. Chest heaving and his breath coming out as shallow wheezes, as though he had been holding his breath for an excruciatingly long period of time, he felt like he could actually breathe again. And then came words that were deliciously his own. For the first time in so long. Grunting, he pushed himself back on to his heels and lifted his head. First he looked to Adam, who was unlike to be able to see the subtle changes to the department head's exterior (namely that the foggy sheen to his forget-me-not-blues), and then blinked a few times before looking to Mr. Truebridge. "Alphonsine...Elder Wand..." he breathed out, the words strained and falling out of his lips like a child discovering that they could make sounds through this face orifice, while pointing at himself. "Mirror...prision...polyjuice...Bain...Nero...dead...deathly...hallows..." |
Mobile flesh-eating plant? Ha! That would be right up Adam's alley. Hey Zita, your boyfriend died because he was eaten by a plant. Although it sounded a little better then he was eaten by a star. No...no...the star sounded braver. He was trying to decide how to answer Airey when he stopped talking. Adam glanced in (what he thought was) David's general direction wishing he were closer to his coworker so he could better judge the man's body language. But being closer would put him closer to Airey and well, that was one place Adam wasn't going to plac---- He stumbled back, hand clasping around the wand in his pocket as a scream filled the room. "David?" he called out unsure of what was happening. His foot caught on one of the steps of the amphitheatre. He waved his arms around, wand out to catch his balance because he was not going to fall. And as Adam regained his balance, Airey started talking again. And nothing his boss said made sense. Adam took a few steps forward towards David. "Do you understent him?" He asked David as he waved his wand/hand in Airey's direction. "Airey?" he asked calling the man by his first name in over a year. If someone was going to summon help here, well, it wasn’t going to be Adam. The man did not know how to produce a patronus. "Vhat do you need boss?" |
Huffing and puffing but lacking any real lung capacity to to blow anything down, Airey patted his enchanted breast pocket urgently and pulled at the seam to peek inside. His movements were jagged and his arm terribly, taking him entirely too long to manage to slip his fingers into the pocket and then his entire hand. Even more clumsily still, his hand swatted around until it felt the small phial Jane had given him last year and by some miracle (he still did not believe in those!) he had managed to fight off the influence to pour it out. If there was one thing he had done right these past years, it was in sparing this elixir and not giving in to the barbaric methods of these people while they had him trapped in that mirror prison. Sweet SOLSTICE being able to think as himself was liberating! Nearly dropping the phial in his attempt to uncork it, Airey pressed the rim to his lips and drowned its entire contents into his mouth. It was not the most pleasant of flavors, but he had hardly expected otherwise considering the potency this brew promised. The bags under his eyes lightened slightly and his skin almost seemed to liven up as well, less worn and dry, and as the department head looked at his hand...it too began to still. Limbs feeling deceptively limber, Airey was able to push himself up from the ground - though not without a bit of additional support in a hand on Adam's shoulder for balance. This was the first time since he had been taken that...he was standing by his own accord and it was truly foreign. "...I need...to get to Hogwarts..." he said decidedly, his vibrant and clear blue eyes focused on both Unspeakbles. "One of you...find Jane. Tell her her solution works and that...when all this is over...I would like to have a chat with her." There simply was NO time to go into all the details with both of them at the moment. "Alphonsine...she must be incapacitated at the moment. Struck by potent magic I imagine. Simone and her are working together. There was another but they killed him...I..." He paused to rub his forehead a bit, the memories both foggy and clear as day at the same time. It was harder to piece things together while trapped in that mirror prison and kept in that man's pocket. The man who had polyjuiced as him before Alphonsine had placed him under the Imperius Curse. "I'll explain it all later. There is no time now. What you must know is that they, the Neo Alliance, have the Elder Wand. They took it from the Chamber of Codes..." He paused again and glanced apologetically at Mr. Truebridge, at David. He...would explain all this to the boy later as well. What he could recall, at least. "They have to be stopped. Get the entire department on red alert. Lock down all research. Make sure nothing else is missing." If they got their hands on that book...they would be in even worse shape... He glanced at his sundial watch and then at the exit to the Chamber. "Live long and prosper and Heghlu'meH QaQ jajvam." And then the department head was on the move, leaving the Chamber to alert any Unspeakable that he met along the way that they were on red alert. Hogwarts...he had to get to Hogwarts... |
Go....find....Jane. Ha! He was joking right? Adam's head swiveled blindly between Airey and David for a moment as if trying to decide if Airey had lost his mind. He still wasn't sure if Airey had all his faculties, especially considering the gibberish he was spouting as he yanked on Adam's shoulder. But before Adam could decided, Airey was hurrying out of the door like he hadn't just lost his mind and collapsed. Blue eyes stared unseeingly after Airey before they turned towards David. "I zink," he said having decided that whatever was going on, it was likely important. He didn't need to fully understand all of what had been said it all to sense it's importance. "You schould go find Chane." Because of the two of them, David was more likely to find the woman. Adam was more likely to kill himself trying by walking into a wall or falling down a lift. Beside, as the senior Unspeakable here, Adam knew the Department of Mysteries pretty well. He might have faced death here more than once, but at least he knew his way around. He started out of the Death Chamber, planning on heading to the Time Chamber next. Best to make sure all the time turners were in their places. His last stop would be the entry chamber, hopefully with a few more unspeakables in tow to help make sure no one came in or out. |
New timeline, post-War... Jane had gone to Hogwarts, arriving at the end of the battle, found her former pupil and made sure of her safety, and, surprisingly, had a fairly civil conversation with her erstwhile employer, Ignatius Blackthorne. She did what little she could there, and then had returned to the Ministry. Now she was here in the Death Chamber, because she had one last thing to do. She had been here a year, but never yet ventured onto the platform and stood next to the notorious curtain. She'd been afraid of what, or who, she might hear. Now she sat there right next to it, just close enough. From her small bag, she took a thermos of tea, which she poured into a small, collapsible teacup. She raised it toward the curtain in a salute, took a sip, then leaned in toward the curtain, listening intently to the soft noises, like whisperings, that came from beyond. If you listened very closely, you might hear her murmur, "Doctor?...Are you there somewhere?...you wouldn't believe what's been going on....." |
Tap. Tap tap. Tap tap tap. "Wow! I've heard the stories, but...Wow!" Stepping into the dim light was a younger wizard with a simple wooden cane that he kept close to his right. Adjusting his glasses, Damian noticed someone down near the veil. The card in his pocket was Death reveresed. Tap "Hi!" Tap "I'm.." Tap "Damian.." Tap "Nice to...meet you.." Damian teetered at a step nearly halfway down, balancing on his good foot, while his cane hovered above the next step down. Tap. "The acoustics in here are amazing!" Finding purchase on the next step, he gestured with his arms open wide. So stricken with this legendary place, Damian was unaware that Jane may have been trying to speak with someone. |
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Jane had been lost in the sea of whispers and impressions coming from the Veil, when suddenly she was interrupted by the unexpected arrival of a young man--well, not terribly young, but after Dr. Nykto, anyone would seem young; why, Nero had made Jane herself feel almost girlish at times! Peering through the dim light, she noticed the man--Damian, had he said his name was?--walked with a cane. "Be careful," she called out, "the steps are narrower as you reach the bottom." She straightened up to watch his downward progress, ready to spring up should he take a tumble, because he seemed to be so caught up in the acoustics of the room, as he called them, that he might not be paying enough attention to where he was going. |
"Ha!" Tap "Imagine me breaking my neck when I finally made it here." Tap tap Irony almost caught him when Damian staggered down the last couple steps, leaving the thirty five year old to gather himself in front of the older woman. With a grin, he momentarily tipped his glasses a little further down his nose, so he could take a look at Jane with his blue eyes before pushing them back, wondering if she would have really tried to catch him if he fell. "I charmed and bought my way into every haunted house, every cursed, forbidden place on Earth. But the chamber of Death at the Ministry of Magic? I had to work hard, very hard, to get here." After smoothing out the expensive looking robes that he obviously looked uncomfortable in, Damian extended his left hand, palm turned slightly upwards. "I'm sorry, Ms. Howard. I'm Damian Pendragon. The new, uh, mortemist." His family name was one of legend, but he much preferred to be known for his own successes. |
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She briskly reached out a hand to take the one he proferred to her and gave it one firm (but not too firm) shake, and then his words penetrated her brain. The new mortemist...so he was Dr. Nykto's replacement. Of course there would be one. But having just been thinking about Nero, she could not help but be struck by the contrast between her former colleague and this new, slightly younger man. "I suppose everyone in the Department of Mysteries has worked hard to get here. I felt it was rather a dream job when I got my letter of offer." Only two years ago it was, too--somehow it seemed much longer, but then, a lot had happened. |
"Dream job?" Damian said, a brow slightly arched. "I never dreamed of work. I was a musician." He added, his eyes looking past Jane to the room around them. She looked professional through and through, and the former rock star knew he had a lot to learn about the life of a bureaucrat. "I get it though.." Taking a couple steps closer to the veil, his left hand giving a small wave, brushing away any thoughts of his past. "This is a very cool gig, eh? MLE? Bunch of cops. But, Mysteries? We're like the secret agents of the ministry. Death, love, space, time. All the big, abstract stuff, beyond the scope of the average witch or wizard." Taking another step forward, Damian pivoted on his cane, turning to face Jane once more. "And you! Order of the Phoenix, huh?" He punctuated this by pointing a finger at her, thumb up. "You're like Jane Bond. Coolest of the cool. That has to be pretty awesome, right?" |
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She decided to turn the topic of conversation back onto her new colleague. She wanted to ask what sort of musical instrument he had played and why he gave that up, but her instinct, which she had learned to listen to, warned her away from that subject, at least just yet. So she focused on work, and a question that she had always wanted to ask Dr. Nykto--"And now you're a mortemist? What exactly does that involve, anyway? I've always wanted to know." |
Jane was cool to him. Ice cold even. Not a smile or laugh at his charming humor. Dropping his finger gun, Damian relented. And now she was asking about his job? Was she just testing him to see if he knew the duties his job entailed? "Mortemist? Yeah? Kind of like your job, but the opposite. Killing curses, ghosts, dementors. If it involves death, it's under my purview." Cracks were beginning to show in his demeanor. Leaning his back against the dais, Damian rubbed one of his eyes with a knuckle. "Ugh..There is supposed to be a balance between life and death, but the war really tipped things in my direction." Letting his cane stand on it's own as he rested against the dais, Damian adjusted his glasses before speaking again. "By day, I've been drowning in paper work. And, at night, I'm chasing ghosts throughout the United Kingdom. Ghosts, poltergeists, phantasms...They're at their highest point in over a hundred years. So many spirits crossing over, let some slip back the other way." Allowing himself to let a small sigh slip out, the man took back hold of his cane, standing fully upright once again. |
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Jane nodded sympathetically. Many had been stressed by recent events, herself included. And though he seemed to be trying to hide it, this man was obviously hurt by them in some way. "Yes, the war and the events leading up to it disturbed the balance of a great many things. Even the elements themselves showed signs of disorder." She thought again of the sinking feeling of horror she'd felt the first time she saw that manifesting in her experiments. "Well, this is pretty much our domain," she went on, sweeping her arm around the room and ending by gesturing toward the dias with its Veil. The...atmosphere here can be rather disturbing if you spend too much time in it, but, though it can seem mysterious at first, there is a great deal you can learn about life and death once you learn to quiet yourself and...listen, as it were." Not really listening, though, more like perceiving, with all your senses at once. |
Damian had something witty to say at his disposal, but when he opened his mouth, no sound came out. Instead, he took Jane's advice, and listened for once. "Ah." His blue eyes fell closed, letting a hush fall over the chamber. Not hearing any particular voice, but a chorus of the dead, the indistinct whispers of those who passed beyond. Could Jane hear this? Was he actually hearing this? With a small gasp, Damian's eyes shot back open, looking to the woman in front of him. "That!...That was a little intense.." Taking a step away from the dais, Damian gathered himself, finding his smile again. "I'm used to dealing with unruly spirits, and deadly curses and creatures. There's a peace, a balance, here. It's a new era, and maybe we should stop treating life and death like opposite ends of a coin. Even the other chambers on this level. We could all learn a thing or two from each other." Metaphorically, he could see the strings connecting everything. A mysterious symphony waiting to be composed. |
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"Yes, the Chamber can get a bit intense--most people limit the amount of time they spend here for just that reason. But there really is no better place to get a sense of what's really real, what's important." Jane stopped a moment to get a final sense of the Chamber. She had wondered, and was still wondering, if trying to work here in a more regular fashion would be a mistake. "And it's true, the different areas of the Department tend to keep to themselves. Some of them discourage visitors, though one can usually arrange to visit. The Love Chamber, for example, has areas for brewing which I've been using up until now. Now that's a very interesting atmosphere." |
"The Love Chamber, Ms. Howard? But we just met." Even his weak jokes, Damian delivered with a similar gusto. "Love is the one magic more powerful than death. I've experienced it a few times myself, but they say you can't tame a wild thestral." With a hand over his heart, the other was out stretched at his side. And with her attention on his heart, a card appeared in the hand out to his side with a snap. "Death Reversed. The war might be over, but there is something stopping us from really moving forward." Damian said, holding the card out to Jane between two fingers. "I, uh, started messing with the cards as a fun party trick back in my more care free days. Now they seem a bit more serious." Cartomancy wasn't a very precise or reliable magic, but it sure could send a message. Letting the cards slip down his sleeve, Damian paused, giving Jane a moment to speak her mind. |
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So, then, she would be straight with him. "I don't believe the war is really over, Mr. Pendragon." |
"Right.." Straightening up a bit, the card disappeared from his hand before speaking again. "Right. I never took much stock in soothsaying or prognostication, but reactions to the cards can be telling.." Damian said, sort of trailing off at the end. He was feeling a little embarrassed now. "It was never going to be that easy, was it?" He said in a softer voice, while also gripping his cane a little tighter. "They infiltrated the ministry at every level. I guess we don't know how many more of them are out there still." Damian wasn't one for subtlety or subterfuge. "Are there any leads? We've already lost so much already." Meeting Jane's gaze, he was now trying to show that he wasn't some goofy young punk like he used to be. As much as he liked to have fun, he wanted to be taken seriously for once in his life. |
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"Hm.." There was a brief pause as Damian considered his future climb back up the stairs. "Go where you feel you can do the most good." He said warmly, devoid of his usual bombast. "The Neo Alliance has a home wherever hate can be found in someone's heart." Tap The unspeakable began his slow ascent. "I'm sure InCo (International Cooperation), and Transportation will give you whatever clearances, and portkeys, you might need." Tap tap Looking back at Jane, he didn't really know what he was getting himself into. "Unless you are trying to do something a little more clandestine.." |
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And...Clandestine? Jane was not sure yet if she was ready for something like that, and it had occurred to her that perhaps Gerda's absence might be a clandestine move on the part of her old mentor, one which Jane would not want to draw attention to. She would gather information first, and then decide. Still...she was rather pleased that Damian thought her capable of clandestine activities; she'd been getting the impression that he thought her rigid and conventional. Which she liked to think she was not, however conservative her outward appearance might be. "Thanks. And good luck with your work here," she called after him, feeling she ought to put in an encouraging word, now that she was the 'old hand' and not the novice. Though she'd only been here two years and didn't feel much like a senior colleague. Jane was still not sure of how the pecking order in the Dept. worked. Except for the fact that Airey Flamsteed was the head of it and therefore their boss, everyone seemed to be working on their own as they pleased. Certainly no one had ever supervised Jane. Which was how she liked it. Jane made sure she had all her things and prepared to follow Damian up. In a little bit--she didn't want to pass him by and make him feel self-conscious about his cane. No, she would take a few more moments to take in the Chamber's atmosphere and think, and then she would check on her potion in the Love Chamber. |
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