SOARC it
As soon as Seth and I exited Gringotts, an unseen hand abruptly pulled us to the right. I stumbled backwards, trodding on Seth's foot in the process. He hissed, opening his mouth indignantly -
"What does the note say?" Vane interjected curtly. Seth muttered something under his breath - nothing nice, I was sure - while I unfolded the slip of parchment.
Four small, dark "X"s were drawn in a straight line.
"XXXX," Vane read.
Seth frowned, leaning forward to see the note better. Vane's mouth twitched into a frown for a second before smoothing, and she stepped back six centimeters to avoid touching him.
Enough was enough. I closed my hand over the paper, slipping it back into the depths of my pocket.
"Oi!" Seth protested. I set my jaw, folding my arms over my chest.
"What is wrong with you lot?" I demanded. Seth and Vane exchanged a startled look.
"What do you mean?" my twin asked slowly. I shook my head impatiently.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about. The immature refusal to touch each other, the annoyed looks...honestly, you two are like feuding toddlers! This is a note that could hold the key to bringing Ragnuk down, and you two are jumping away from each other like you're afraid you'll catch Scrofungulus!"
Two sets of blue eyes - one a vivid sky blue, the other icy pale - widened.
Finally, Seth's shoulders slumped three millimeters.
"You're right," he said quietly. He turned stiffly thirty degrees, jutting out a hand into the forty-six centimeter space separating him from the silent Auror.
"Eve Vane, I believe we've started on the wrong foot. I am rather proud, and I fear that your, er, rejection made me treat you quite terribly. I apologize. My name is Seth Lancaster. My favourite colour is orange. I've broken my wrist twice. I have a twin sister. Oh, and my record for most brownies eaten in one sitting is twenty," he said seriously.
If at all possible, Vane's eyes widen even more. She coughed, looking nonplussed for the first time since I'd met her.
The silence dragged on, seconds passing as they stared at each other. After twenty-one agonizing seconds, Vane groaned, placing her hand in Seth's and shaking it firmly.
"Hello, Seth Lancaster. I am Eve Marian Vane. I have no siblings. I am Bulgarian and an Auror. I can and will report any illegal activities to the Ministry while on duty, so be warned," she said formally, but I spotted a flicker of amusement in her eyes.
I smiled, mentally patting myself on the back. Maybe, if I ever had free time (HAHAHAHAHAHAHA), I could start a side business as a professional Solver of All Ridiculous Conflicts, or SOARC for short.
Marital problems? Just SOARC it! Inheritance squabbles? SOARC it! Fight over the last brownie? SOARC will gladly relieve you of your burden!
I pulled the note from my pocket again, unfolding it carefully in the warmth of the setting sun.
We all peered at it, staring at the hasty black marks.
"I've got nothing," Seth said after seven minutes and fifty-three seconds. I hated to admit it, but Numberita hadn't thought of anything either. Besides, my neck was protesting from craning over this tiny slip of paper.
Eve sighed, pursing her lips. "I'll take this back to the Ministry, see if they have anything on XXXX. Perhaps it's a code word for an operation." I nodded, wordlessly surrendering the slip of paper. She muttered a duplicating spell, creating an identical copy, and handed the original back to me. My eyes drifted back to the foreboding doors guarding Gringotts.
Following my gaze, Seth said, "I'll find the goblin again. I doubt he'll say anything, but it doesn't hurt to try."
Vane inclined her head, her lips curling into a slight smile. Then she stepped back, Apparating away with a loud bang (Note to self: research a way to diminish the Apparition sound. Really, it was quite impractical for covert operations. I could see it now: planning a secret ambush? Whoops BANG oh what was that rather loud noise do you think it might be Aurors?! No, of course not, it must just be the banging of my heart. I mean, honestly. No one could think that loud pop signaled anything other than an Apparition).
"Hey," Seth said, placing a hand on my shoulder.
"What?"
"You should get some rest," he said quietly. I scowled instinctively, pulling back. Was he trying to imply that I couldn't handle the events?
He shook his head. "If I were you, I would be sobbing in some corner right now. I don't know how you're still functioning. As your twin brother, I'm asking you to sleep. You can fight all the goblins you want tomorrow. Just not today. Please."
I shut my mouth slowly, my emotions warring in Numberita. I hated sitting around while Ragnuk and who knows how many goblins could be planning their next attack, but Seth had a point. My hands were trembling even now, and I'd be lying if I said the thought of confronting Ragnuk again - or even seeing him - didn't make me nervous.
"Fine," I said. He grinned. "Great! I promise I'll get you an extra special present for your birthday - no more pink octopi!" he said before disappearing into the marble depths of Gringotts.
I sighed, my back slumping a bit as the doors slid shut behind him. My eyes drifted over the emptying street, nervously passing from face to face as I searched for the hulking figure that haunted my dreams.
I could Apparate home. Fix myself dinner and a hot mug of cocoa. Curl up with case files from past house elf cases. Sleep.
Or, in what would be more likely the case, I would Apparate home. Look at Rose's empty bed. Anguish over her absence. Pace the floors dozens of times. Double and triple check the wards. Sit on the floor for the remainder of the night.
I flinched at the thought of spending a dark night alone. No, I would not be returning to my flat - at least not now. Besides, I had other plans.
"I can do this," I whispered. Then, closing my eyes tightly, I spun on the spot, picturing a relatively secluded backstreet in Muggle London.
Sorry, Seth. Old Ben calls.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
After an hour and sixteen minutes of wandering Muggle London, I finally located Effie's. It was a small, elegant establishment that spilled warm golden light onto the dark cobblestone street. The French restaurant was nestled between an equally warmly lit bookstore and coffee shop in one of the smaller streets of downtown London. Throngs of cheerful, chattering university-age Muggles streamed through the doors, laughing as they swung shopping bags through the streets.
A group of the students exited the bookstore, pushing each other playfully. I eyed them enviously, watching as one of the male students made funny faces behind his mate's back.
His friend soon caught on, giving him an outraged look before cuffing him with his red hat. The joker, a man with dark blonde hair, collapsed to the ground, flinging his arm across his eyes. After three seconds he got back up, grinning as he shook the fallen leaves from his hair. Our eyes happened to meet, and I looked away quickly, focusing instead on the student with the red hat. Now that his bulky hat was off, I could see that he had brown hair. He turned slightly, revealing a stubborn profile and dark eyes.
I bit back a gasp. Xavier! I stepped backwards, pretending to examine the display of baked goods outside of the coffee shop as Numberita worked furiously. The last time I'd seen the Ravenclaw, he'd been attached at the hip with Kate. What was he doing in Muggle London? His friends were obviously students at the local Muggle university; the prankster with blonde hair was wearing a university sweatshirt.
I tried peering at them out of the corner of the eye. The blonde was saying something to his friends, glancing over at me curiously. I cursed under my breath. They were still blocking the entrance to Effie's, so I couldn't escape in there. Maybe they were wizards, and they wanted to know if Skeeter's (insulting) article was true (I mean, I had to admit - I did look a bit unhinged; no one was this interested in a pumpkin pastry. I had been staring at this particle cupcake for the past six minutes and thirty-six seconds).
"Hey," came a warm voice from behind me. I winced, turning around slowly. The blonde bloke with the sweatshirt had separated from the rest of his posse, looking at me with a friendly expression in his hazel eyes.
"Hi," I said warily, looking behind him. Xavier had left. Maybe I was being paranoid. I was a witch and I was in Muggle London. There was no reason he wouldn't be, either.
"I'm Luke," he offered, flashing a crooked grin. "Adela," I said distractedly. How did one excuse oneself from an unwanted conversation?
"Are you waiting for someone? You've been waiting outside that display for quite some time now," he observed.
"Mm? Oh, no, I just really-" I glanced surreptitiously back at the display "-really enjoy Fluffy Marshmallow Ginger Pumpkin Delights!" my voice grew uncomfortably high at the end, making my enthusiastic sentence sound like a crazed question. I winced again.
Oh, well. It wasn't like he could tell the Wizarding World how odd I was.
"Well, gotta bounce. Fare thee well," I said hurriedly, flashing a the odd forked finger symbol I'd seen from a Muggle space movie. I didn't wait to see his reaction, instead pushing past him and running into the safety of the French restaurant.
I muttered something about meeting a friend to the hostess before scampering deeper into the restaurant, scanning the elegantly dressed waiters for an older man fitting Old Ben's description.
Spotting an elderly man with a full grey beard, I sped towards him eagerly, barely avoiding a potentially disastrous collision with a young girl in pigtails.
"OLD BEN!" I greeted. He gave me a quizzical look.
"Who?" he said flatly. He pointed to a small, polished nametag on his pressed white shirt, looking at me with a pitying expression.
"MARCUS," it read.
Oh.
"Er, I mean, oh benedictions to you! Happy Christmas!" I muttered quickly, my cheeks flaming. Then I retreated quickly, ignoring his calls of "Miss, it's only fall," and looked for another elderly waiter. This probably wasn't the best method of location, but I had to try something; I needed to obtain this deposition as quickly as possible. The longer we waited, the lower our chances of success.
I spotted another elderly man clearing a table and approached him carefully.
"Hello, are you ol-er, Ben?" I asked cautiously. He looked at me suspiciously.
"Who's asking?"
Well, I could see the similarities between Old Ben and his daughter.
"Er, Adela. Adela Lancaster. Your daughter, Violet, told me I could find you here."
He brightened at the mention of his daughter, setting a grimy glass down so he could stand.
"Ah, yes. Violet. My dear girl. How is she?"
"Oh, um, I've only spoken to her on the phone, but she sounded healthy! Um, not that voices can accurately convey one's physical state. I mean, you could be dying and still sou-" his bushy brows were slowly lowering down on his dark eyes, and I hurriedly changed the subject, "ANYWAY, I am helping a poor, wrongfully enslaved young girl try and get some justice. She was employed at the Vince Manor, but unfortunately she is up against some fierce opposition. She needs to win this case, or she will get nothing for her years of abused servitude. She told us that you might have seen Mr. Vince hit a, er, dog?"
He regarded me skeptically for a thirteen long seconds before shaking his head, bending back down to resume collecting the dishes.
"Can't help you. Sorry," he said gruffly.
The first pulls of despair tugged at me, and I rushed forward, frantic pleas spilling from my lips.
"Please, sir. She lacks convincing evidence. She is up against dozens of strong, powerful people. The Vince family is respected. No one will believe Vince hit her if there isn't any evidence to it."
He paused. "She doesn't have any bruises?"
I shook my head. "No, she was able to escape, but the bruises unfortunately disappeared during the period in which she lived on the streets."
"No scars?"
I shook my head.
"Ha." He stacked the last plate before turning to face me again.
"Well, you're in a nasty situation, then. No photographic evidence of abuse. It'll go down to her word against his...and, knowing, Vince…" his voice trailed off, and a dark expression settled on his gnarled face.
"I'll do it," he said finally. Whew. I grinned, reaching out to shake his hand.
"Thank you! I am so grateful. Here is my card," I said. "Can we call on you for initial preparations next week?"
He nodded. "Ms. Lancaster, I hope you bring that bloody bastard to justice. There were some strange occurrences at that house, stuff that can't be explained...wish I'd quit sooner."
Leaving Old Ben to resume his work, I moved towards the exit, my steps considerably lighter. I had finally - finally! - obtained the promise of Old Ben's testimony. Merlin, I couldn't wait to tell Black and Daisy. They would be thrilled.
I beamed, all prior darkness dispelled under the force of my success.
"Adela?"
I paused with my hand on the door, glancing back. Xavier looked at me with surprise. He was sitting at a corner both with the rest of the students from before. The blonde one offered me a cheerful wave.
"Hi, Ginger!" he said cheekily. Ginger? Oh. The Ginger Pumpkin pastry. Right.
I looked longingly at the street outside for two seconds before groaning. I approached their table wearily, keeping a pleasant smile on my face.
"Hello, Xavier. What brings you here?" I asked, putting a slight stress on the 'here.' Perhaps this wasn't such a nuisance; Numberita was rather curious.
He frowned slightly. "Effie's has the best food in town, of course!" he said finally. His friends all cheered loudly, looking like boisterous university students out for a night in town. Which, of course, they were.
"Right…" I said slowly. It was odd, really. Muggle London was much larger than Wizarding London, yet wizards tended to stay in the Wizarding parts. It was rare to see a wizard in the Muggle section. In fact, I had no idea what a "TV" or "escalator" was until Hogwarts, and it really wasn't until I became friends with Rose that I'd actually seen one in real life.
"How do you know Ginger?" Luke asked.
"We went to the same school," Xavier said.
"Oh, Cardiff, right?" a gangly redhead asked.
I stared. "Adela, why don't we catch up without these goons staring at us?" Xavier said, standing abruptly.
He practically dragged me away, ignoring the whistles from the table he'd just abandoned. Once we were situated a safe distance away, I tilted my head ten degrees to my right, surveying him silently.
He had grown five centimeters from the time I'd last seen him (which had been four years ago - Merlin, that was odd to think), and the hair he had worn closely shorn at Hogwarts was now long and unruly.
He still had that grumpy scowl, though. At least some things didn't change.
"Well?" he finally demanded. "Aren't you going to interrogate me?"
"What are you doing with Muggle uni students, Xavier? And why are you claiming to have gone to Cardiff?" I asked finally.
He rolled his eyes. "Look, maybe I just got tired of the Wizarding World."
I laughed, thinking he was joking (he wasn't). I quieted at the grave look in his eyes.
"I know it sounds crazy, but, Adela, all that stuff in sixth year - why are we wasting our time in the Wizarding World? Why was I living in a world that blatantly endangered its children when it placed certain people above others? That was just asking for trouble...especially when you consider the people they were subjugating had potent and dangerous magic. At least here if something goes wrong, I have one advantage."
"Xavier! It's against the law-"
"-to use magic against a Muggle, yeah, I know. I'm not an idiot. I haven't used any magic, so don't get your self righteous panties in a twist. I'm just saying that it's nice that I have the option if I need it. Besides, you ignored the entire first part of what I was saying. The Wizarding World is to blame for the goblins' uprising. Hell, if I were a goblin I would revolt too."
"But to run away from it all? Running away won't save the others."
"Why do I need to save them? They are equally capable of doing what I did," he said defensively.
I frowned. "And Kate?"
He looked away. "We separated," he said curtly. "She couldn't...see the benefits of my plan."
"Oh," I said. I couldn't imagine Xavier without Kate or Kate without Xavier. They'd been together since second year.
"Yeah. Oh," he repeated. "Anyway, I only called your name because I was surprised to see you here. I wasn't asking for some sentimental rehashing. Speaking of which, why are you in Muggle London?"
"I'm a lawyer. I'm here for a case," I explained. His eyebrows rose.
"A Wizarding case that needs a Muggle witness? You really must be desperate."
My lips thinned. "Well, it was wonderful catching up. Nice sentiment. Now, I really must get going. My owl has not been fed in eight hours and forty-nine minutes, and I'm sure she'll be more than a little touchy if I don't return soon."
I moved away from the bloke, making my way once more towards the door. I was beginning to see why they'd split up; Kate was better off without him.
Hopefully Lady Bacon wouldn't murder me when I entered my flat.
Author Note: Thank you all so much for sticking with this fic! I love reading all of your reviews :)