With a rather faint pop, the air would seemingly shift open, allowing a person to walk away from the horizon, out-of-place in any way you sliced it.
Unlike most of his kind, this wizard was not dressed in some ridiculous, gaudy, poor excuse of a Muggle's clothing. This man did not pity their unintelligent, misinformed, and otherwise useless existence, quite to the contrary. He knew to mingle as one of them, however. Youhad know their traits, unless you'd like to be disturbed and draw attention to yourself.
Throwing a rather makeshift, dispensabletraveling cloak behind a bush, Theodore Nott stepped into the open, breathing in his surroundings. Cursing below his breath, he thought he was surely going to need more than one bath to get the stench of mediocrity off of him.
Despite his Muggle-friendly attire, he was still quite over-dressed. He donned a very finely cut three-piece suit of navy, which draped over a snug white dress shirt. Around his neck, there was a gray and white diagonally-striped tie, which Theodore imagined desperately needed loosening. Despite them being a typical practice inhis world, the young man would never get used to them.
Adding to the list of things that he would never get used to, was the fact that the dirty, always ignorant and generally misplaced Muggle community was letting their spawn run off into the Wizarding World. Letting half-bloods go was one thing, and that took time in and of itself. But the muggles should stay with their own kind, it was simply a fact where Theodore was concerned. And he fully intended to do something about it.
He nicked a little information sheet from a file-drawer in the middle of the night. They were useful little cards, that anyone with a mere sliver of trust within the Ministry could have access to. Theodore, being a rather trustworthy individual in spite of his dubious background, had full access to the information. And what was on these cards?
Why, just the full information of select Muggle families; Muggle families whose children have just shown magical prowess
'The Hansons; William and Melanie. Son: Patrick. This must be their castle,' Theodore would add, walking up towards a very simple, light blue house with white shingles. Painting his best 'official business' face on,Theodore lightly wrappedupon the door knocker. His left hand went quickly diving into his suit jacket, holding onto the handle of his wand. It wasn't as if he was looking to harm people, but better to be safe than sorry.
Answering the door would be a woman who looked to be in her lower-thirties, looking a bit apprehensive about towards the man opening the door. Her hair was tied up in a very lazy bun, and she wore what could only be described as exaggerated pajamas; You wouldn't go to sleep in them, but no person in their right mind would be caught dead in public like that.
"Can I help you?"
"Yes, actually," came the smooth reply from the fellow, right hand digging into his back pocket. Pulling out a very disheveled, crumpled piece of a notepad, he spoke with clear diction. "I'm with the Halsall Police, Ma'am. We've been noticing a few burglaries in the area, and I was just wondering if I could investigate." Into his shoulder, a small word beginning with a C, and ending in 'onfundus' was muttered, complete with a strong grip on his wand.
Having always been skilled in the Charms department, Theodore wasn't too surprised when the woman nodded him inside. The house, much to his expectations, was completely disgruntled. The living room was basically the size of a double bathroom, with two very mismatched couches. The coffee table in the center of the room had to be supported by a few thick books, and clearly it was the most use the assorted hardcovers would ever see in this humble abode.
"Charming place you..." Theodore's maul of a lie would never have to be delivered towards the lady, as he was interrupted by a child who appeared to be nearly seven or eight, running up towards his mother, tugging on her shirt.
"Mummy! Mummy! Can I have a.."
"Shush, Eric! Mummy has a guest here." The elder lady gave an apologetic, embarrassed grin towards Nott, and began to point her son to his room. Feeling as if this was the opportune moment to forward with his plan, Theodore raised a hand to silence the woman, gently proceeding along.
"This will concern him too, I am certain," he would continue, with a quite ominous undertone to it. His excitement would continue to be veiled for the moment, under a very non-threatening grin."Actually, this will concern your entire family. Tell me, is your husband here, as well?"
"No, he's out watching football," the lady would add, with a rather stinging bite in her throat.
In a fraction of a second, the warm smile upon Theodore's face would be replaced with a satisfying half-smirk. 'Good,' was the throaty response that Nott would let hang in the air. 'STUPEFY!''
When Theodore revealed his wand, the woman's face had a cornucopia of expressions in a mere matter of seconds. Confusion, fright, shock and finally vacancy draped over her, as her body fell rigid to the ground in a clump.
Teeth sharp and distinct as a canine's would reveal themselves, almost lusting upon the damage that had just been inflicted. Narrowing his dark eyes upon his subject, a few breaths of satisfied air were taken in, as he would crouch, and move closer towards his experiment. The sight of fallen prey, just laying and aching to be victimized made Theodore's heart bubble in anticipation, as his left hand, complete with wand, began rising up methodically to finish the job.
Forgetting his surroundings,an alarming surprise would bring Theodore's intoxication to a standstill. The child, seeing this take place, had the wherewithal to put forward a fair amount of bravery. He'd ran forward, latching himself on to Theodore's forearm, screaming bloody murder.
'DON'T YOU HURT MY MUM!'
If he didn't have a job to do, Theodore might have been impressed by the kid's fervor. Situations being what they were, however, his complacent eyes found their way towards his free hand, knuckles being flexed. Lifting it highly, a thundering momentum would result in a backhand to child above the eyebrow. A gush of blood would come forward, causing the young one to stumble back and clamp his eye, muffled cries coming from his mouth.
"Just...Just go away..."
If it were only that easy.
Not about to be dissuaded, Theodore would pick the young, crying--and now bloodied--child up by his collar, and stick his face in front of his mother's limp form. 'This...' Nott's breath was hard now, and the words came out in a choppy dialect. '...This is what happens when you don't go away.' Throwing the child back down, Theodore wouldmock a sensitive whimperasthe boy'sshoulder hit the ground with a hard thud.
Theodore closed his eyes and paced back and forth slowly, giving the fear that the child was most likely feeling time to multiply and spread like bacteria. 'You really want to be a part of this world, little boy?' Stopping in his tracks, Nott pivoted his head to the side, looking at the bloodied child with disgust. 'Magic was not meant for you. Look what it did to your dear Mother.'
The child's breath was fast-paced, tears openly flowing from his squinted eyes. 'You're gonna get in trouble! Someone's gonna help me.'
'Noone wants to help garbage like you.'
Taken aback by the quick response, the child look as if he'd been drained of his remaining energy. Seeing the opportunity, Theodore would continue his rant. 'You see, nobody is going to even know I was here, young man.' A disgusting, teeth-baring grin found its way towards Nott's face, his wand was pointed towards the child's heart.
'Petrificus Totalus!'
Before the child could even react towards the spell, Theodore added a quick Silencing spell towards him. Not being able to move or talk, the young man's face began to turn a deeper shade of red in frustration. Eliciting a laugh from the wizard, he would creep over towards the boy's unconscious mother, placing his wand sharply at the woman's temple. Closing his eyes in a deep level of concentration, the incantation would flow from his mouth like silk. "Obliviate."
Obliviation methods, much like those any refined science, often varied depending on the person. Theodore Nott was nothing, if not methodical. His work, his magic...his art, for lack of a better term, was highly misunderstood and under appreciated by the Wizarding World. No tears found their way on Theodore's pillow because of this. In fact, it was something he could use to his advantage.
A properly trained Obliviator knows that the Charm, when cast correctly, allows the wizard or witch in question unperturbed access towards the mind. In short, it's Legilimancy to the next level. The woman in question however, sadly required no such skill. The memories that Theodore needed to erase and modify -- the ones of him -- were the freshest thing in her memory. Combine that with the subjects lack of magical skill, not to mention lack of consciousness, Nott had begun to weave a new memory for her instead.
It all began very simply. Instead of Theodore ever ringing the doorbell,at the separation of what was real and what was implanted, the child would run up towards the mother, and beg her for an ice cream. The woman, clearly concerned with her child's nutritional welfare, opted for a no, and thus laid the tracks for a spectacular temper tantrum. The end result being the woman flying back into the wall, and, if psychology had taught him anything, the child being 'just too scarred' to continue with sorcery.
Minutes later, upon painting the final minute details of the scene in her mind, Theodore released the hold, looking as if he was overcome with ecstasy. Accomplishing exactly what he'd set out to do, he knew the hardest part of the journey was finished. Turning towards the child, the look upon his face was no longer one of mockery; stern and serious, his mouth had fallen into a rather complacent line. Using a rather breezy swish of his wand, he quickly released both enchantments on the boy, but kept it pointed straight at him, keeping him at bay.
'What did you do to her?'
It was too easy for him. He couldn't help but add a small satisfactory smile. 'It's what you've done that makes all the difference.' With the wand still cast upon him, Theodore noticed the rather small gash on his face. By admission, Theodore was no Healer. However, small scrapes and bruises were not the most difficult of things to heal for a fully-trained wizard, and Theodore proved this by calmly and casually removing the abrasion. Putting his hand towards his face, the boy would've looked grateful, if fear wasn't currently encapsulating his features.
'I didn't do anything!'
'Quite to the contrary, Patrick Hanson.' For the first time in the evening, Theodore used the little boy's name, and the reaction was exactly as he'd been expecting. 'Your mother is already stirring, and when get comes to, she's going to remember you attacking her. You attacked her with your magic, Patrick. You hurt her.' Ignoring the tears dripping from the boy's face, he would continue.
'You, Patrick, are going to tell her that you're so very sorry, and that you're giving magic up. You don't want your mother to be hurt again, do you?' The child's face had been buried behind his hands, causing Theodore's frustration to rise further. 'Look at me.' Simple commands, delivered softly. When the boy looked up, Theodore's face did not match his voice. His dark eyes were drilling a hole into the child, attempting any means he could to intimidate him.
'She'll know what happened! You can't be everywhere at once!'
It was almost as if Patrick bated Theodore into it. With a very faint pop, Theodore disappeared, and would up behind the child, arm stuck against his neck, and wand pointing directly at him.
The child tensed up a little bit, too shocked to put up much of a fight. Even if he had tried to run, he had an adult's forearm ready to block his windpipe.
'Look at your mother, Patrick. Remember her.' He leaned in to the boy's ear, calmly and softly delivering the next lines. 'If you tell anyone about this, I will know. I will find out, Patrick. Do I seem like the kind of person who lies?'
Shaking his head from side to side in a very fast motion, Theodore interpreted that as understanding and continued.
'If you tell anyone, anyone, that you didn't do this, your mother dies. I will kill her, and make you watch.'
A few cries that were unable to be muffled escaped from Patrick, who was at this point, trying like hell to not soil himself. Loudly, from the front door, the loud sounds of drunken singing, and the fumbling of keys was heard. Turning the boy around, Theodore harshly added. 'Him too. Go to him, and tell him what you've done. I'll know if you fail.'
By the time the child took off running towards the front door, placing a sudden end to the drunken bellows, Theodore Nott was nowhere near the Village of Halsall.
-fin-