EDIT: Well. This is mostly irrelevant, but! For reference, watch Adam Lambert's For Your Entertainment. It'll give you an idea of how I imagine the first shot of Depravia. :)


The morning was not kind to him; first, unbearably bright sunlight chose to filter through the window in such a way that it would stream across his eyes, no matter what angle he was at, so he could not open his eyes without being blinded. It chose to be colder than usual that day as well, and glory of glories, his plumbing chose to be uncooperative. After much swearing, scolding, pleading, and several spells to no avail, he got dressed without a shower, cleaned his teeth, dragged a comb through his hair, and stomped downstairs. Kreacher sensed his master's mood and didn't speak up save for to take his order, and fled to the kitchen immediately afterward.

"Morning, sunshine of my life." Two glasses shattered and Troy paused at the door, eyeing the glass Kreacher was now frantically trying to clean up.

"Well now. Someone's not having a good morning."

"Kindly cease speaking and sit down." She raised an eyebrow and did as told, fighting a smirk. He instantly noticed her hair was wet and his eyes narrowed dangerously. She held up her hands to stave off the rant.

"I showered at the Ministry this morning – I was up before you and noticed the water wasn't working."

"And you couldn't have woken me up and told me?"

"...You don't strike me as someone who likes to be woken up." More shattering glass.

"I hope you have a shitload of money, if this is your usual reaction to inconvenience."

"He does." She looked up in surprise at the newcomer, who didn't bother greeting Harry, instead smacking him upside the back of his head, resulting in some colourful words she knew for a fact were not the staple of English expletives.

"He speaks Italian?"

"He's been hanging out with Blaise a lot. Neville Weasley."

"Troy Del Toro."

"Why the hell are you in my house!"

"You gave me your key." The shorter man dropped his head against the table and groaned.

"Who the bloody hell do I thank for this morning?" Neville shrugged and cleaned up the rest of the glass, ignoring Kreacher's squeak of objection and disapproval.

"Harry needs food, Kreacher – I figured this would be faster." The house elf's ears didn't move from their flattened position, but he entered the kitchen, presumably to finish breakfast, anyway.

"Ron Floo'd me and asked me to check up on you. Something about you have a miniature version of your fits from when you began at the Ministry."

"It wasn't anything like that – I got a card, presumably regarding the case we're working on, and it affected me strangely. No curses, not even an accidental charm. Sev has an idea as to what happened but has not seen fit to inform me." Troy fiddled with her flask.

"He doesn't seem like the type of person to give you information he isn't sure of himself."

"That is usually the case, yes." He sighed and lifted his head from the table.

"How's George, Neville?"

"He's meeting a colleague in Germany about a business venture proposed to him last month."

"So you're both doing well."

"Better than last year." Harry nodded, dropping all attempts at conversation when food appeared on the table. He briefly gestured for Neville and Troy to help themselves before devouring his own portion, ignoring them completely. Kreacher popped in briefly to nod approvingly, then popped back out to get his mail. The trio briefly discussed the news (Troy made commentary on the gossip section, Neville and Harry actually discussed the news itself) and Troy gave the files she'd picked up from Mallory to Harry.

"He agrees with you on all counts and is giving you the lead on the case here in England, since you've made the most headway. Politically, I'd say you're still well off – the people I talked to don't seem to mind. I asked Ron to listen for naysayers nevertheless."

"Thank you." Neville laughed at his irritated expression.

"Don't glare at her, Harry. You would have done the same thing to secure yourself had you been there." He sighed.

"Yes, but I can't help but wish I'd spoken to them myself."

"They would have been just as likely to lie to you as to me – probably more likely actually, since most people are loathe to speak against powerful figures to their faces."

"That's never been a problem for me."

"Personally?"

"Yes – I never had a problem with speaking out against powerful people to their faces, and I've had no few curses launched in my direction by people who disagree with my various stances."

"Yes, but you're you – and out of ten encounters, how often do people not gush?"

"..."

"Exactly." He rolled his eyes and stood, picking up his plate and walking to the kitchen.

"I'll meet you at Blaise and Luna's, then?"

"Yeah – I need to go shower and pick some things up. I'll meet you in an hour or so."


"Back in the labyrinth."

"You needn't sound so cheery, Troy..." The woman shrugged, stretching. She'd eschewed her Magus uniform for white knee high boots that miraculously didn't attract dirt (MAGIC!), black pants, another mock neck shirt, this one long sleeved and in red, and a black dragonhide vest, detailed with a bovine skull of some sort on the back. Around her neck was her badge, with the Magus eagle and basilisk crest, hanging on a gleaming chain.

"You opted not to wear the uniform, but the badge is in plain sight?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. It's just a coincidence. Keep telling yourself that and you'll see how easy it is to say it to other people." She grinned cheekily at his disbelieving expression and pushed the door to Depravia open.

"Let's go." He rolled his eyes and swept past her, letting his eyes roam the hallway for any doors or windows.

"So, this is one of those magically expanded buildings – thousands of rooms inside, tiny building on the outside. We're instructed not to split up and just see what we can find. Mallory won't say why this area in particular sparked his interest, but it did, so here we are." He ignored her melodramatic gesture to the dingy hallway and kept walking."

"Harry."

"Don't whine, Troy. It's especially unbecoming in the current situation."

"Since when do I care what is and isn't unbecoming of me? Oooh! What's this? A crest, hmm?" He stopped and looked over his shoulder at her. She was standing in front of a dark tapestry bearing an enormous crest of sorts. A peacock stood in the background, tail fully unfurled. On either side was a rearing bull and snake, the bull with a crown on its head, the snake holding an apple in its mouth, and before all of the animals was a sword through a leering human skull.

"Cute."

"I'll say." She slowly shifted the tapestry.

"Nothing behind it." Tapped the wall.

"Not hollow." Quick, barely perceptible wand motion.

"No glamours, no charms of any sort. Just decoration, as far as I can tell without taking it with us." He nodded and beckoned, holding the door at the end of hall open.

"We'll come back to it if need be. Right now, though, we should find out who sent us the card." She rolled her shoulders, looking suddenly uneasy.

"Why didn't Mallory tell us anything about who owns this place? He wouldn't even say what it...was..." They both stared at the new area, stomachs dropping as a particularly loud moan floated to their ears.

"Oh."


Depravia, according to the leaflet the slender man who had appeared to guide them to 'Templar', was a pleasure kingdom. There was no question to Harry exactly what that meant as they passed a pair of naga twined around a man who appeared to be drugged.

"This is legal?" The small man, who had introduced himself as Nis, chuckled.

"...Define legal, Sir."

"Never mind..." Troy's eyes darted around, occasionally skimming over a particularly enthusiastic group.

"Harry, why didn't we think of glamouring you?"

"It wouldn't be worth the effort. Trust me." She nodded, sending a glare at a group of women – whose ages were questionable, if you asked her – who were focusing an inordinate amount of attention on Harry. This main room was apparently just a club – granted, a club where orgies took place in various parts of the room, with various species not naturally meant to enter into such activities, but it was nevertheless just a club, like any club where illegal activities might normally take place.

"Our workers don't usually entertain out here – there's several suites prepared for such activities on the fifth floor. Below us are the dungeons; our patrons who desire pain for pleasure frequent it, as a general rule. The general entertainment takes place here, as you can see. Beyond that, most of the floors are themed."

"Themed?"

"Yes, by philia or fetish."

"Pedophilia-"

"Absolutely not. Templar would never allow it. They were quite clear about that, and once or twice, a pedophile has made their way here, but...well, their survival depended entirely on them."

"Well, there's one less thing to be disturbed about."

"I imagine it's not called Depravia for no reason, Harry."

"Right you are, miss. Pray, shall you be coming here often?"

"...For the next few weeks, probably."

"Splendid. You spoke of a card." Harry fished it out and gave it to the man, who held it up to the light and smiled.

"A personal invitation from Templar! Glorious. Well, with this you are an official member, with anyone you might wish to invite."

"I'll ponder that one." The man chuckled again and led them behind the expansive bar.

"Now, there are a few areas on this floor not specially given to sexual activity – just as any club may have. You have heard of Purloined, perhaps?" Harry nodded, smiling at Troy's eyeroll. Purloined was a gay bar opened some twenty years ago, and was still considered one of the best spots in town for extracurricular activities.

"Purloined is also owned by Templar – you can enter it from here, should you crave somewhat less provocative activities." They followed him upstairs and endured some of the odder fetishes – as far as Harry was concerned – and a few he didn't really want to wrap his brain around. Nis finally led them to a gleaming elevator.

"Now we will descend to the lowest level of Depravia – the restricted section, only accessible if one has a personal invitation from Templar themselves."

"You keep referring to Templar as 'they'; are they a man or a woman?"

"Templar has not chosen to impart that knowledge on you yet, and I may not breach my employer's trust. They have been seen as both genders by their exclusive patrons."

"...Thanks for clearing that up."

"Be nice, Troy..." Nis smiled at them and swiped a keycard, smile growing with every passing moment. Harry wondered if people usually reacted with terror after long periods of time with him.

"Please, enter." He sighed and walked in first, noticing that Troy followed backwards, facing Nis.

Nice to know she has my back. Nis seemed not to notice her behaviour and pressed the single button, still smiling widely. Doesn't his face hurt by now? Harry snorted at the inane quality of his thoughts and fell silent, counting how long it took to get to the lowest level.

"Welcome, Nis and guests." Three minutes. He didn't know how far they'd gone or how fast, but he had a time. They filed out after Nis and took in their new surroundings.


It was a sort of twisted mockery of a Hellenic temple. Black marble with white marble accents dominated; scattered across the floor were couches, all in black and blood red, with silver and gold accents littered across the furniture. Low, dark wooden tables sat before each couch, and fine crystal adorned these. As his eyes swept over the floor, he noted the enormous clock embedded in the stone, and apparently fully functional.

"It's beneath a sheet of crystal."

"Ah." The walls held tapestries and paintings, and here and there, busts and statues of various ages could be seen. They were each grouped together by time period and origin, and gave no sense of mismatched décor.

~A brother in voice. How charming.~ He started, looking up and paling a bit at what he saw.

The ceiling was a mass of twisted stone and metal serpents in a thousand different colours and sizes, not even all the same species, let alone all mortal. The central one was, shock of shocks, a basilisk. To further add to his discomfort, not all of the snakes seemed bound to the writhing mass – some moved down the pillars ringing the room and even moved onto the floor – always bound to the stone but nevertheless mobile. A few held glowing orbs in their mouths.

~Ah...hello.~

~Greetings, slayer. We have heard much of you from the bright one. He does not speak our tongue, but his voice is nevertheless heard.~

~The bright one?~

~Yesss...the one they call Templar.~ So this Templar was in fact a he.

"Um...Harry – I think you have fans." He blinked and looked over at the flushed faces of a group of men and women lounging nearby.

"Yes, these patrons do have a bit of a Parseltongue fetish. Forgive their stares." Well. He wouldn't be doing that in here again. Troy snickered at his blush and flung an arm around his shoulders.

"You'll be fine, snake mouth. Anyone who can whisper with serpents is well off in life." He froze, ears ringing. That term – whisper with serpents...

"Harry? You alright?" He shrugged her off, grinning weakly.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Um...we shouldn't keep Templar waiting, should we?" Nis smiled again, and Harry fought the urge to wince. His teeth were too straight, his smile too wide, and his eyes to small to pull off that expression and not be terrifying. He led them through the lounging groups, occasionally greeting one here and there, before pausing at the enormous door at the far end of the room. The door was relatively plain – again, in dark wood, like the tables. The handles – if the twisted pair of rings could be called that – were another pair of snakes, much to Harry's chagrin.

"I am not to witness this meeting. Go, go." He sighed and met Troy's eyes, and was heartened by the wink she sent him.

~I am to speak with Templar.~

~Enter.~ The doors ground open, and immediately smoke rolled out, scented with myrrh.

"...Tacky. Expensive, but tacky."

"Troy!" She smiled innocently, and he shook his head, wondering if that throbbing behind his eyes was another Troy induced headache.

He really hoped not.


A/N-

Um...I'm not apologising for that (not) cliffie. I just couldn't LEAP into Templar's identity, given how he greets them. ...Also, the name Templar is a coincidence and bears no mark on the story – it sounded cool, so it was kept. The snake ceiling is my pride and joy in this chapter. I LOVE IT. XD