Title: Highwayman
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
Rating: K
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 1,028
Prompts:
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments): Term 5, Myths & Legends: - Write about Dick Turpin having some kind of interaction with a witch or wizard around this time, or perhaps he was also of wizard heritage himself.
Author's Note: I am not a history student, nor do I know very much about Dick Turpin. I assume his writing style/language would have been considerably different from mine. I have tried to phrase things in the best way possible but in some places this might sound a little stilted - advice would be great. Also, the wizard Dick meets is Edgar Stroulger x
Summary: The night before he is to be hanged Dick Turpin writes about the strangest encounter he has ever had.

To whom it may concern,

My name is Richard Turpin, although I was known to my friends as Dick. That is not the only name I have gone by though, for several years I have called myself John Palmer.

If you have found this letter, then presumably you have found the journal in which I left it. I have left behind my journal so that the world might know of my adventures and escapades.

Tomorrow I am to die. I am not afraid of death, merely afraid that my name might fade away into oblivion. I have been advised by many to beg for forgiveness, but instead I have taken far more sensible and practical precautions. I have spent some of my fortune on a new coat and shoes and hired some mourners to ensure that my execution is as dignified an affair as I deserve. People will remember me as the great Dick Turpin, highwayman and handsome villain.

They have chosen to ignore all of my incredibly dastardly deeds and hang me instead for the paltry crime of horse theft. This seems so unfair that I feel I ought to protest, but you will read more about that in the journal.

No, the main reason for this letter is to recount an event that happened in the night of September 27th, 1736. I had forgotten it, quite completely, as if it were wiped from my mind completely until the last few days. It came to me in a dream, and at first I thought it was simply that, a vision. But now I see it even during my waking hours, and I am sure that it did in fact occur.

The night was a cold one and a thick mist made it difficult to see more than several feet in front. It was the perfect night for a highway robbery. I was alone, and so there is no one else who can testify to the strange things that happened that night.

I heard a carriage coming a couple of hours after midnight. As it drew near I readied myself, preparing to halt the carriage. If I had had a partner, he would have distracted them while I stole their valuables, but as I did not, I would have to be more direct. I am sure that there will be some who say that I was drunk that night, and so imagined the whole thing, but I had not drunk a drop that night. I believed that when I was working I needed a sharp and clear mind, one not addled by alcohol.

I peered out of a bush and saw the carriage roll into sight. I couldn't see the horses pulling it, but I assumed that the mist was denser, and they were obscured by it. The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the branch that I had cut down and dragged into the path and I saw a young man, about my own age, get out and go round the front to investigate. I drew my gun and advanced, but before I could get near there was a strange piercing whistling noise. The noise was harsh and I put a hand to my ear as the man looked around him in surprise. I couldn't see him clearly, but he seemed to mutter something to himself and then a light appeared. I assumed he had struck a match.

The man stepped towards my hiding place. Now that he was closer I saw that he had a messy mop of dark hair and an odd pair of spectacles, which rested on a long crooked nose. He did not look like he would put up much of a fight and his clothes looked expensive, so I was hopeful that there would be a handsome sum in his purse.

Smoothly, I stepped out from my hiding place, my gun pointing at him. He seemed unsurprised to see me, and I was confused by his lack of reaction. Usually, this was where my victims started to scream, or run, or bluster. He was holding a long stick which was lit, but didn't appear to be burning. I was interested, but I didn't have time for foolish tricks.

The whistling, which had stopped, had resumed, and I grimace. "Shut it up." I ordered, assuming that it was coming from him.

He nodded and reached into his pocket, drawing out a strangely shaped object which was filled with light and making the awful noise. He said something and the noise disappeared.

Still, I didn't believe that this would be different from any of the countless other jobs that I had carried out. I advanced on him slowly until I was sure that he would cause me no problems. Then I reached for his cloak and pulled it from his shoulders, reaching for any hidden pockets which might conceal treasure.

I only took my eyes off him for a moment.

That moment however, was long enough for him to somehow disarm me. I jumped backwards at the sound of my gun being thrown away from us and stared at the man. How he had managed to pull it from my grip I did not know.

He muttered something and I felt a strong wind push me backwards. I didn't hear what he said, but it was in a foreign tongue. He said something to me, words that I cannot remember, and then he pointed his glowing stick at the trees behind me. I was startled as branches began to lift me up, and found myself above the canopy of the trees, looking up at the night sky.

When I finally managed to climb down, the carriage and all traces of the man were gone.

As I say, until only a few days ago I had forgotten the incident entirely. I am not a superstitious man, but what happened to me that night cannot be explained by any logic that I know of. Instead, I leave my story behind to you, so that even in death, I may be surrounded by mystery and adventure.

Sincerely,

Dick Turpin.