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Author: Myth & Legend Story: Cursed Rating: Teens Status: WIP Reviews: 27 Words: 215,482
Author’s Notes: As always my thanks goes to Anka, who beat this chapter into grammatical submission. Also my thanks to Antonia, who dragged Marlow out of the shadows, and to Melindaleo, who talks to me on Y!Messenger and “prods buttock” when I hit a bit of writers block. Marlow and myself owe you a lot. Also I’m the writer taking part in “Interview with a Character” on the Perch here at the PhoenixSong between the 6th of March and the 12th of March. Why not check out the rules and ask your favourite character a question? ‘Thane,’ Marlow murmured, not looking up from the table. ‘Haven’t seen you for a while.’ ‘Not since Norway. You have a fine way of treating your friends, don’t you lad?’ ‘Of course.’ Marlow eased away from the jabbing wand tip and glanced at the stocky wizard. Around him the drinkers who’d looked up when his feet hit the floor returned to their conversations. The witch at the bar was watching them with interest, her fingertips resting on her wand. Her eyes were narrowed right at him and he knew that in a minute or two she’d throw a curse or, worse, arrest them. ‘Put your wand away, Thane,’ he said quietly. ‘And give you a chance to get your hand on yours? No chance. You’ll curse me in the back. It’ll be Oslo all over again,’ Thane said, his voice a confusion of annoyance and amusement. Marlow got to his feet, keeping his hands in sight. ‘There’s an Auror by the bar. We need to leave. I don’t have time for any delays.’ The traces of laughter left Thane’s expression and he nodded to show that he understood. Marlow left some coins on the table and slipped outside, aware of the patrons around him. He tried to keep a smile from his lips. Human nature was transparent. They’d be memorising every pothole and scar on his companion’s face in case they had to pick him out of a line-up later on. He didn’t have that problem. The door to the Leaky Cauldron closed behind them and Marlow moved quickly, snatching Thane’s wand from his hand. The wizard growled in frustration and crossed his arms. ‘Don’t you ever grow up, Marlow?’ Marlow shook his head and leant against the wall, watching the door to see if anyone would follow them. The portal remained firmly closed, and he felt a smile twitch on his lips. It was good to see Thane again. He had been wondering what had become of him. Thane relaxed next to him and spoke softly. ‘You know that fame is a curse in our work, right? All this “Mercenary” stuff is going to get you into trouble.’ ‘I can handle it. Half of it’s not true anyway.’ ‘I don’t know anything about it,’ Thane said and held up his hands in a placating gesture, ‘and I don’t want to know, Marlow. I’ve heard your excuses, but it doesn’t change anything. Those people that bloke was talking about, they’re still dead. Nothing you say can change that, whether you were responsible or not.’ ‘It might be the difference between execution and a jail sentence for me if I get caught.’ Marlow shifted at that unpleasant thought and flicked a derisive glance at his companion. ‘What do you know anyway? You were in Russia at the time.’ ‘Best place to be from what I hear!’ Thane said jokingly, nudging Marlow in the side experimentally. ‘Hmm, I thought I saw you wince when I jabbed you in the ribs back there. Had a close call did you, lad?’ ‘Nothing I couldn’t cope with.’ Satisfied that no one was going to follow them out of the pub, Marlow turned his attention to the man who had so rudely interrupted his drink. Thane was about the same age as the men in front of the bar, but years of hard work had given him a muscular frame. His skin was tanned from the outdoor life and his face scarred from various fights. If he were a cat he’d be a mangy tom with one ear missing and a stump of a tail. On the back of his neck was a brand that showed he was on an execution role. According to him he earned the mark in the Middle-East. They were somewhat strict on their exports and didn’t take kindly to those who ignored the regulations. He didn’t seem too bothered about the brand and treated it like most men would a tattoo. Marlow patted his pocket and sighed. He’d left his lighter behind. Wordlessly Thane produced a matchbox and handed it to him. ‘These aren’t cursed, are they?’ ‘Would I do that to you, Marlow?’ Marlow shrugged. ‘You seem pretty put out about the Oslo thing.’ ‘You left me behind! I thought there was meant to be honour among thieves.’ He snorted in disbelief and shook his head. ‘Forget I said that. You’ve got no honour.’ Marlow had partnered Thane on a job in Norway. They had been instructed to steal the sapphire exhibit for a private collector. They had succeeded, but had the misfortune to run into some Muggle police. They’d nearly been away when Thane had been hit on the head by one of Norway’s resident criminals looking for an easy bit of cash. Marlow winced at the memory. He could still recall the terrible cracking sound as the weapon connected with his partner’s skull. He’d dealt with the crook and taken the jewels out of Thane’s pocket. He hadn’t had any choice but to leave Thane unconscious on the ground. The way he saw it he could have picked him up and aggravated a serious injury, or he could have left him for the police who would have tended to him in a professional way. Besides, Thane would have worse things to worry about than being in jail. If a hired thief failed to complete a job for a powerful individual the consequences were a “dead or alive” bounty offer. Rewards for evidence of a renegade’s death were high, and people never stopped trying to claim the money. The way he looked at it he’d done Thane a favour. ‘You escaped, didn’t you?’ ‘That’s not the point,’ Thane grumbled. He struck the match and shielded the flame as he lit up. Thane tactfully moved upwind and shook his head in disgust. ‘You’ll kill yourself with those you know.’ ‘Good.’ Marlow inhaled heavily, knowing that he was being childish. ‘What are you here for, if it’s not to put me in my place over Oslo?’ Thane rubbed a hand over the nape of his neck and rolled his eyes. ‘It’s 2005, Marlow.’ ‘What about it?’ ‘You’ve got to come home for the signing. It’s only a couple of weeks away. You know what happens if you don’t show up. I thought I’d give you a friendly reminder. You might be a dishonourable git, but I’m used to having you around. I don’t want to be burying you.’ Marlow sighed and coughed as the smoke caught in his throat. ‘I’ll be there. Don’t you worry about it.’ ‘That’s it though. I do worry about it. You’ve got a memory like a sieve. Can’t you write it down somewhere?’ ‘I’ll remember it.’ Thane threw his hands up in the air and shook his head. ‘No you won’t. You’ll conveniently forget all about it.’ ‘I remember the important things!’ Marlow snapped, his temper wearing thin. ‘Well this is important. I’m not bailing you out, all right?’ ‘Okay. I got it. Is that all?’ Thane sighed and looked at the floor. ‘That’s it. Give me my wand back and I’ll get going, but by all that’s worth stealing, lad, you’d better be there in a fortnight.’ Marlow watched Thane amble away and vanish among the pedestrians on Charing Cross Road. He sighed heavily and followed the footsteps of his former partner, trying to commit his words to his treacherous memory. The signing was a high priority event. He had been trained by the Tiparnay, a veritable pirate’s nest of thieves and rebels. They were all outcast from society, but they paid their dues in the only way they knew how. They took in whoever required their help. The sick or injured and the lost or hunted. They gave the hopeless a future, and all they required in return was a ten percent cut of any fees and for all of their “students” to return every five years and give their signature. You only missed the signing if you were dead, and they checked. They couldn’t afford to have the tricks of their respective trades falling into the wrong hands, or having people they’d helped turning to the authorities. If you didn’t sign the book they would come after you and hunt you until they were sure you’d been forced from the mortal coil. He had no real wish to be hunted by his former mentors. He had to get this job done, and then get back to the Continent for the signing. He glanced at the setting sun and the rain clouds that were already building up on the horizon. He wouldn’t miss England one bit; that much was certain. ****** When darkness fell around Gringotts the braziers were lit one by one, and flames sent shadows dancing across the pearly marble. The windows were dark and every door was barred tight against the outside world. Marlow examined the building through the lens and groaned. The bank was almost throbbing with magic. A gruesome blur of green, red and brown shifted over the stone. There were not going to be any untreated hinges or flaws within the magic. Goblins prized nothing more than their wealth, and they were not going to let it fall into the wrong hands. Of course the security around the vaults would be over-powering, and the dragons that were under the goblins’ full time employment were a well-known fact. You would have to be a fool to break into the vaults, but he didn’t need to think about them, at least not this time. Slowly he made his way across Diagon Alley and climbed the steps towards the doors before following the narrow path the led around the side of the building. The wards fit to the wall like a second skin, but were not overly sensitive. He could touch the stone and not set them off. He suspected that it would take prolonged contact or a magical force to trigger the bank’s defences. The curved path led him around the back and he sighed in disappointment. He hadn’t expected much luck, but the rear of Gringotts was just as secure as the front. Fire escape stairways zigzagged down the building’s exterior. There were carved into the walls and made of stone. They led to a door on every level which, if nothing else, would be rigged to the fire alarm. Marlow counted the windows. Bill Weasley’s office was on the fourth floor and was also the sixth in from the edge of the building. He raised an eyebrow when he saw that the light was still lit. It was possible that it had been left on by a neglectful employee, but the chances were that someone was working late. He removed his wand from his pocket and tapped it thoughtfully against the palm of his left hand. He couldn’t risk being seen, and he had no wish to aggravate a dangerous situation further by attacking a witch or wizard. It was unlikely, but there was a possibility that they were more powerful than him, and he didn’t want to be the loser in any fight. Taking a deep breath he examined the back of the bank in more detail. Here the white marble was stained with the muck of dirty rainwater and the path he had followed spread out into a courtyard. A few trees tried to grow here, and a pool of suspiciously clear water glimmered in the centre of the paving. The building loomed to seven storeys before the roof peaked. At its height the building had a flat section of roof that wasn’t visible from Diagon Alley. On it stood a stationary globe, about as tall as a man. It was lit by lamps, and Marlow could see the continents of the world embossed on its bronze surface. It seemed very decorative, but what was the point of it if it was hidden away? He shook the question away. There was no time for idle curiosity. He was running out of opportunities to get in to the bank. Even the back door, probably a worker’s entrance, glowed ominously when he examined it through the lens. He rubbed a hand on his chin thoughtfully. There was one way to get in, but it was risky. If he set the alarm off, the wards would collapse as they triggered the defence mechanisms. He could then slip into the building while the source of the problem was being investigated. Of course the downside to this less than brilliant plan was that the building would then be swarming with security personnel and Aurors. He wished he had more time to think this through, but Thane’s warning about the signing was fresh in his mind and he knew that he couldn’t spend any more time debating this problem. He couldn’t be cautious, not now. Steeling himself he looked around and saw a beer bottle standing by the wall. He didn’t bother to think of its contents. It looked like beer, but the chances that it was were pretty low. He tipped them down a nearby drain before dipping it in the pool. He half expected something to emerge from the water and attack him, but nothing broke the surface. Tapping the top of the bottle with his wand he carefully melted the glass until the neck was closed and had sealed the water inside. He put it to one side before thinking about what he was likely to face within the goblin’s bank. Regretfully he took off his hat and slipped it into the branches of one of the trees. With any luck he could return for it later, but he couldn’t wear it inside. Surveillance spells would be in action, and while the spell on his skin would prevent them getting a good picture of his face, the hat would be pretty distinctive. He’d left his coat behind in his room at the Leaky Cauldron. There was enough money in the pockets to cover his bill, should things go wrong tonight. With a sigh he rolled the sleeves of his top down. It was a slate blue that clashed with his loose dark grey trousers, but fashion was not the aim of the game. The interior of the bank would probably be poorly lit, at least to begin with. Black would stand out in the gloom, but softer tones of blue, green and grey would be harder to detect. Finally he slipped on some gloves. There was no point in leaving fingerprints all over the place. He didn’t know how hot the British Aurors were on Muggle forensics, but he didn’t have time to protect himself against it fully. It would just have to do. He frowned as he considered the risk he was taking before he shrugged it off. He’d taken worse chances and won. The light in the window flicked off and Marlow stepped back into the shadows, checking his pockets for the equipment he’d need. A few minutes later he heard a woman say goodbye to someone and walk away down Diagon Alley. Perhaps the curse breaker had a secretary? He picked up the bottle and moved around to the front, checking that Diagon Alley was clear before walking to the Gringotts doors and placing the bottle in front of the beaten gold doorway. They could obviously withstand even a major explosion, but knocking them down wasn’t his intention. All he had to do was set the wards off. He retreated to the corner of the building and hoped it was a safe distance. Unless the goblins were using an unorthodox security system the wards should contract on the epicentre of the attack and weaken in other areas. He took a deep breath and muttered, ‘I hope this works.’ Before he had the chance to change his mind he pointed his wand at the bottle and concentrated on the spell. ‘Veseer!’ The magic shot towards it and the bottle exploded in a plume of steam and water. The glass broke and knifed in every direction, slicing into the outer door. The sound was deafening, and Marlow ran for it as the walls next to him rippled with magical charge. He dodged around the edge of the building and into the shadows as shouts rose from inside and the distinctive sounds of Apparation filled the air. He had five minutes at most before wizards and witches spread out to search the building. He opened the back door to the bank and slipped inside, ignoring the pain that the dimming wards sent through his palm and up his arm. He shut the door carefully behind him and looked around. The corridors were lit with a dim flashing red light that seemed to be emanating from the walls themselves. It wouldn’t be long before the override was initiated and the corridors were flooded with light. He could hear running footsteps moving away from him and took advantage of the opportunity. Getting up stairs to the right level would not be easy, but there was no other way to reach Weasley’s office. He opened the door to the stairway and peered upwards. There was a large flat disc embedded in the distant ceiling, no doubt to monitor movement in the stairwell. The radius indicated that if he stuck to the walls he would be completely undetected, but he didn’t have time for that kind of stealth. Instead he sprinted up the stairs two at a time, grateful that his heart and lungs could take the vigorous exercise. He could hear the magic crackling over the disc as it charged, ready to send a bolt of magic shooting down the stairwell. A quick calculation made him swear and dart through the door one floor below his intended destination just as the magic seared past. He stood in the passageway beyond trying to hear footsteps over the sound of his own heartbeat. Another curse escaped his lips as the red lights were shut off and normal illumination filled the corridors. He heard the distinctive whine of magical systems being powered down and knew that he was out of time. The security staff and the Aurors were starting to sweep the building. He darted back out in the stairwell and hastened up towards the correct floor. Several orbs were whizzing around the passageway, crackling with energy and he ducked as one zoomed towards his head and shot a powerful bolt towards him. The magic singed his eyebrow and made his head throb. He raised his arms, expecting another assault, but the three globes tore away down the corridor, probably looking for reinforcements. He counted doorways and turned the handle, half expecting it to be locked. He thanked Merlin when the handle turned easily and he slipped inside the dark room. A couple of seconds allowed his eyes to adjust to the dark and he hurried towards the desk. One was cluttered with maps and artefacts while the other was almost obsessively neat. Quills were neatly sharpened and arranged in a glass pot and the ink was carefully labelled by colour. He hurried around to the work side and tried the drawers, giving a groan when he saw a row of files, neatly labelled with meaningless numbers. He didn’t have time for this! Kneeling on the carpet he rifled through the folders until he found one mentioning the Mordasbal. A quick scan showed maps, sketches and several pages of information. He tucked it down the top he wore, securing it in an interior pocket designed for the purpose and wiped sweat from his forehead with his glove. He shut the drawer quietly and gave a cursory glance around the office. It was too much to hope that there was a secret exit…. He made his way to the open door and paused when he heard running footsteps. ‘There!’ he heard a male voice shout, and he swore at the sound of several people approaching the office. He should have shut the door behind him; at least then he might have been able to hide! He looked around frantically and gripped his wand tightly in his hand. He was trapped like a rat. There was no way out except to jump from the window, and he doubted he’d survive the drop. He gritted his teeth and debated hexing his way out. After all, didn’t he have a supposedly ruthless reputation to maintain? Instead he shook his head and drew in a deep breath. He would have to Apparate. There was no other choice. He’d just have to deal with the consequences when they came. Perhaps he could use it to his advantage, somehow. Shakily he tried to fix an image of his intended destination in his mind. The magic poured over him and he felt his chest become painfully constricted as the magic squeezed him and the interior of the office disappeared from sight. He distantly heard people shouting and the flash of spells, but he was already gone. Despite himself he felt a smile curve on his lips as he Apparated away from the bank and the magical district of London. He’d done it.
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