QLFC Season 7- Round 3

Montrose Magpies- Chaser 1

Prompt: The Kabuki Dance of Japan; write about a character, excluding Neville, who spends most of their time behind the scenes, but eventually gets their moment to shine.

A/N: The Kabuki Dance of Japan relies heavily on performers with painted faces. I tried to incorporate that into the story in a more symbolic way.

WC: 1970

August 1992

Borgin struck a match against the tinder box with trembling hands, and after the third try managed to ignite the red tip. There was something about the bright little flame that kept him from resorting to magical means. He lent over to light the lamp on the bedside table, the room coming to shape as it was illuminated by the soft glow.

The glow streamed out in front of him as he walked out into the hallway and down the stairs into a large room lined with shelves and crammed with oddly shaped objects. He slipped his hand into his pocket, his fingers curling around the familiar grip of his wand; the wood was worn down from where he constantly clutched it.

Coming downstairs had become a nightly . over the past years. At first, it had been a paranoid obsession, but after months of finding nothing untoward in the darkness, his paranoia had waned and left him with a routine that left him tired the next morning.

After walking down the familiar aisles of shelves, he turned to head back upstairs. A small creaking sound made him stop in his tracks.

His hand gripped his wand tighter, slowly pulling it out of his pocket as he rotated toward the direction of the noise.

His heart leapt as his light shone upon a tall man leaning casually against the counter. He opened his mouth to utter a spell, but no sound escaped his lips.

"I suppose I should be glad that you're tongue-tied, Brutus, otherwise, who knows what dark curse you would have sent flying my way," the man said.

Borgin's hand relaxed, the wand slowly lowering. "Merlin's beard, Albus!" The relief and happiness were evident in his voice as Dumbledore smiled at him. "Twenty years, and you still can't seem to enter a room like a normal person."

Borgin walked forward and placed the lamp on the counter.

"It's all about the flare, Brutus." Dumbledore tapped his fingers against the counter and looked around the room. "Something you seem to be good at yourself."

"Yes, well, if you want to sell to purveyors of the Dark Arts you have to look the part."

"You've certainly accomplished that."

Borgin pursed his lips, nodding thoughtfully. "You know, Albus, this playing sides has almost left me confused as to who I am. All these years later, and I almost feel like one of them." He chuckled sadly. "I don't even really have to try anymore. Pretending to be one of them that is."

"You're not alone in this, Brutus. Severus walks the same path you do."

Borgin snorted. "Oh, yes. Your precious Severus Snape. At least he can freely converse with you without looking like a traitor. Instead, we're left here skulking in the dark."

"It won't be for too much longer."

"Yes, I've heard the whispers. The followers of the Dark Lord are beginning to move again; to act more freely. And instead of feeling free like them, I'm left in fear for my life." He raised his wand to emphasize his point. "I sleep with my wand and perform nightly rounds because I'm afraid of them finding me out and coming for me one of these days. You've been saying he'd be back, but I never quite believed you."

Dumbledore nodded silently.

"What are we going to do if he comes back? What hope is there of defeating him once more; for good this time?"

Dumbledore smiled thinly. "We'll just have to hope that Mr. Potter can do again what he did so many years ago."

"Ah, yes, young Mr. Potter." Borgin pursed his lips, staring off into the distance. "You know, he was in here today."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Borgin waved him off. "Completely by accident, I'm sure. But I may have let something slip about Lucius Malfoy before he snuck out," he said with a glint in his eyes.

Dumbledore smiled conspiratorially. "Is that so?"

"Oh, yes. I'm sure a Ministry raid is in Mr. Malfoy's very near future. They won't find anything, of course, but it will annoy the Dickens out of him." He looked up into Dumbledore's twinkling eyes. "Small pleasures, you know. It's all I've really had these twenty years."

Dumbledore sighed.

"Twenty years, Albus. That's a long time, my friend. I can't keep playing here in the dark; it's beginning to get hard to see."

Dumbledore reached out and laid his hand on Borgin's shoulder. "Yes, I know. But I don't think you'll have to wait too much longer. The Dark Lord is becoming impatient to return and his attempt at the stone last year is just one of many plans, I'm sure."

Borgin nodded. "I'd bet my life on it."

June 1997

"That's two students, Brutus! Two!" Dumbledore's voice rose in anger and maybe fear as well. "I told you to help the boy, not kill my students!"

"There's only so much I can do, Albus! The boy won't even let me look at the blasted thing! He's becoming desperate, and I'm not exactly in a position to advise him." Borgin looked pointedly at Dumbledore. "And what about Snape? He's been tasked by the boy's mother to help him, but I suppose you haven't bothered to give him a good dressing down, have you?"

The fire flared in Dumbledore's eyes, before sputtering out. He sat down heavily. "My apologies, Brutus. Of course, this is not your fault. But this has to end, one way or another."

Borgin reached out for Dumbledore's hand. "I'm in no rush to kill you, my friend."

Dumbledore squeezed his hand back but said nothing.

The silence between them was broken by a faint fluttering sound, followed by a small chirp. Borgin and Dumbledore looked over at a large cabinet that loomed out of the darkness. There was another chirp. They turned to look at each other and both nodded solemnly.

May 1998

Borgin drew his wand. This was his moment; thirty years later and he finally got to step out of the darkness. He hoped that the light wouldn't blind him.

"Mr. Longbottom!" he called out.

The young man, who had been rushing past the corridor Borgin was standing in, stopped suddenly at the sound of his name. He turned to look for a familiar face, his wand raised in case it was a trapt. When he saw Borgin, his eyes screwed up in confusion.

"Mr. Borgin?" He raised his wand in defense.

"I don't have time to explain, my boy," he said by way of explanation. "Has Potter told you about the snake?"

"The snake?" Neville asked, confusion leaving his mind clouded.

Borgin grabbed his shoulder. "Nagini! The snake!"

"Yes, yes," stuttered Neville. "I have to kill her."

Borgin nodded, licking his lips. "You have the sword then?"

Neville shook his head. "What sword?"

Borgin looked Neville up and down, looking for the forged piece of steel. "A Basilisk fang then?"

Neville just shook his head. "Um, I'm not really sure what you're on about, but I have to go. Harry told me what I have to do and I don't know how much time I have to do it. The Death Eaters could be entering the grounds again at any moment."

Borgin gripped Neville's shoulder, turning him in the direction of the front entrance. "Of course, you're absolutely right. I'll explain on the way." He shook his head, muttering under his breath. "Leave it to Potter to leave out the most important blasted part. Dumbledore put too much trust in that boy."

They hurried down the corridor, people casting glances at the strange pair—a determined, oily old man, and a determined, slightly confused, Neville.

"Nagini is a Horcrux."

"Yes, I know that part."

"Well, then you must know that only two things have been powerful enough to destroy one—the sword of Gryffindor and Basilisk venom. So, you need one of the two."

"But how am I supposed to get either of those?"

Borgin stopped in his tracks, stopping Neville with him. He turned the young man so he could look him in the eye. "Leave that to me young Longbottom. Go and make your parents proud and leave that to me." He pushed Neville forward. "Go!"

Neville ran down the corridor.

Borgin turned and headed to the last place he wanted to be.

He'd never been in Dumbledore's office before; not while it had been his anyhow. And as he looked around, he searched for some sign of the wizard but saw none.

"Brutus."

Borgin jumped at the unexpected voice.

"It's good to see you old friend."

Borgin looked up into the familiar face of his oldest, and probably only, friend, sitting comfortably in his large portrait.

"Albus." He barely spoke above a whisper.

"This is the end, my friend. Your mission is finally complete." Albus smiled softly down at him.

Borgin raised his hand to gesture around him. "Yes, but at what cost?"

Dumbledore tilted his head. "The cost that was necessary."

Borgin looked down at his hands "And if I don't want to live with that cost? Live without… you?" Borgin raised his head to find the portrait of the old wizard smiling down at him.

"You have always been a dear friend, Brutus, And what is a friend? A single soul dwelling in two bodies. As long as you are alive, I am alive in you."

Borgin shook his head, the corner of his mouth twisting up in a grin. "You were always such a sap."

Dumbledore shrugged. "Be that as it may, we'll have plenty of time to talk later, but right now I believe you came up here for a reason."

Borgin was hesitant to leave; afraid that he'd never see Albus Dumbledore again. He cast one last glance at the portrait, sighing, and then hurried to fetch the dingy old hat that he had come for.

Borgin didn't get to see the death of the most powerful dark wizard. But he did see the aftermath. It was sad and glorious all at once.

The joy and the relief were all mixed with the tears and the cries of sorrow. So much had been lost to gain… well, no one knew exactly what yet. All they knew is that the gain was small compared to what they currently felt.

"Mr. Borgin?"

Borgin had been so busy looking around, he hadn't noticed Neville come walking up to him. He was surprised the boy had found him, nestled in the shadows as he was.

"You did it, Longbottom. I didn't know if you had it in you, but you did it."

Neville shrugged bashfully. "I couldn't have done it without you. And you're right–Harry was always horrible with remembering the important details. Could you imagine me trying to kill her with a curse and it rebounding and hitting me in the face?" Neville laughed half-heartedly.

Borgin smiled at the thought.

"You should really come out here with us. You were just as much a part of this as any of us. Besides, no one will believe that you weren't just a figment of my imagination unless they actually see you."

Borgin shook his head. "No, dear boy. I got a taste of the sunlight after too long in the dark, and I'm not quite sure I'm ready to stand in it permanently. Baby steps you know."

Neville scrunched his brow. "But… if you go now and someone else finds you, they'll try you with the other Death Eaters. You'll… you'll go to Azkaban."

Borgin folded his arms across his chest. "Mayhaps, but that's nothing for you to worry about. It might do me some good not to remember the good times for a while."

Borgin smiled, clapped Neville on the shoulder and walked away, not even bothering to look back.

(genre) tragedy

(emotion) happiness

(quote) "What is a friend? A single soul dwelling in two bodies."- Aristotle