Written using the 'You're a wizard', 'Monster in the Mirror', 'Vampire in the attic' and 'Werewolf Detective' prompts for the Vibe server's Halloween Bingo.
"Lumos…" It was barely a whisper as Richard lit his wand and entered the house. Old, decrepit, and utterly abandoned, it was rumoured to house certain dark artefacts that would be of interest to the Ministry of Magic. Acquiring and studying such objects came under Richard's jurisdiction as an Unspeakable, but he was no fool. He'd brought help. His companion was tall and broad, muscular, and grizzled from years of living in the forest. It was the only place that was safe for his kind. Despite his condition, he was still in the employ of the ministry. An auror. A dark wizard hunter. What better way to catch a monster than with another monster?
"Stop." Richard did so instantly, though he had little choice as a massive hand struck his chest. Despite having worked with Gilbert Hewett before, Richard couldn't help the chill it sent down his spine. It was human nature, after all. Instincts honed over thousands of years; a danger sense so powerful it couldn't be overcome. It could, however, be controlled. Rather than pushing him away, yelping, or running away, Richard stilled. Wand clutched in his hand, he waited for Gilbert to speak. His grizzled head turned upwards, long tangled hair sweeping his shoulders as he sniffed the dusty air and growled low in his throat.
"What is it?" Richard kept his voice low, wary of outsiders hearing. Gilbert's dark eyes sharpened, almost becoming more animalistic. That image wasn't dispelled by his thick beard or the layer of dark hair on his visible skin. How close is it to the full moon? He was quite sure his companion would have refused the task if it coincided with such a dangerous time, though that barely seemed to matter. The man wasn't full or even half wolf right now, but it was obvious the transformation was progressing as time went by. Not much was known about werewolves as they were seldom welcome or lived in polite society, but the few studies that existed suggested that those who embraced their nature would eventually lose the ability to return to human form.
"Death." Richard swallowed at the low, rumbling growl. How ominous…It was times like these that he missed working with Hank. He'd never felt afraid in the field with Hank at his side. Gilbert was physically stronger, but that didn't account for intelligence and skill. Hank had always been one step ahead, able to read an environment almost instinctively, and there wasn't a spell Richard could think of that Hank hadn't mastered. His current companion, though he had a wand, was more the brute strength sort. "It lingers here…"
"Is it…fresh?" Richard could only assume he meant something had died, though he couldn't smell it himself. Perhaps that meant it was an animal of some sort, something too small to stink up the whole building. Not that there wasn't a smell. The whole place reeked of decay, and the walls were crumbling to the point of falling. The thought had crossed his mind that someone may have used magic to keep it standing. It was dank and dusty, with the stench of damp hanging in the air. The earthy rot inside mingled with the fresh rain outside. Unfortunately, the rain was still falling in sheets. It pattered against the remaining glass, and somewhere deeper in the house he could hear the telltale trickle of water falling from a great height. Part of the roof must have caved in on the upper floors.
"No…and yes." Richard wasn't sure what that meant, and he wasn't sure his companion did either. The shiver that ran through him had little to do with the cold, and it was cold. Autumn was well underway, bringing with it the usual charming British weather. Miserable grey days thick with cloud and near constant rain. Even when it wasn't raining, a mist of gloom seemed to hang in the air, bringing with it a bitter chill. They were both dressed for the weather. Richard wore a dark muggle suit with a long woollen coat, something to ward off the chill and blend in with muggles. Gilbert's clothes were worn and tattered, weatherbeaten and torn from living in the forest. His coat was holding together better than anything else. It was made of heavy brown leather and almost reached his large booted feet. Booted feet that were rather loud as he clunked into the hall.
"Can you hear anything?"
"Many things…but if you mean something large and coming to kill us, it's impossible to say." Gilbert looked over his shoulder and quirked his lips, showing off his sharp teeth. The growl in his voice made Richard pause. He wasn't sure if it was frustration or amusement, but he thought it might be the latter. Not much seemed to phase the larger man, and why would it? Few beasts were foolish enough to tangle with a werewolf, especially one partially transformed like Gilbert. Richard couldn't help but wonder what Gilbert had done to get himself stuck like that. It wasn't anything good. It was a sign of having mauled many people, either killing or turning them. Many of those, he comforted himself, had occurred during his role as an auror. When stopping dark wizards, there were few limitations on the methods one could employ, especially in a kill or be killed scenario. "What are you supposed to be looking for anyway?"
"Nothing concrete…It rarely is in my line of work." The work of an unspeakable was classified at the highest level, and it was often the case that even they didn't understand what they were working on. "There was a report of dark magic in this area. Being abandoned, this house is a good place to start. It's believed there may be some sort of artefact hidden here. Obviously, such rumours can't pass unchecked. You never know when some poor muggle soul might stumble across its path. The young ones do have a terrible penchant for curiosity." Gilbert chortled his agreement. It was quite normal for wizards to speak of muggles in such infantile terms. They were often childlike when it came to meddling in things beyond their understanding.
"Might be a sight more ominous than that." Indeed…It was entirely possible, if not likely, that some dark wizard or other had taken up residence in the area. They could be there right now, lying in wait to ambush them during their search. It could even be a trap made to lure out members of the ministry. An unspeakable would hold a lot of valuable information, even more than an auror. That's why Richard rarely worked alone. The only time he might work alone was for something mundane, like a research expedition to some known safe place, such as Hogwarts. Despite its age and how many had searched its halls, there was always more to discover, as recent incidents had proven.
The floorboards were warped and rotting beneath their feet, with a thick layer of dust and grim to muffle their steps. The hall led into what appeared to be an empty living room. It seemed whoever lived there long ago had emptied it, or others had helped themselves over the years. Richard swept his wand over various surfaces and even tested the walls for secret hiding places. Not even Revelio, the revealing spell, uncovered any secrets. Certain incantations might fool this spell, of course, but Richard was fairly certain the room was empty. From the type of fireplace, faded stone with ornate etchings, he could tell this had once been a rather fine house. In fact, it seemed to have aged beyond its years. Many of the surrounding houses were still standing, their windows lit with a warm glow as the muggles within went about their business, apparently oblivious to this wasted hovel.
The kitchen, a large room with rotting counters and a rusted stove, had once been bustling with activity. The house was large and fine enough to have employed at least one cook. There was even a once fine drawing room on the ground floor. A place for the man of the house to relax and work while the women were elsewhere. There was another room on the ground floor, quite small, in which the live-in staff had lodged. There were two staircases. One large one at the front of the house, and a small one in the kitchen. The kitchen staircase had a steady stream of water trickling down it, and the steps were sagging in places.
"The main staircase, I think." Richard led the way back up the hall, sweeping his wand from side to side, still wary of being attacked. Though he had found no telltale sign of what he was looking for, he could sense something. A presence. He hesitated to say he felt like he was being watched, but the hairs on his neck were standing on end and his heart was thudding. The staircase was wide enough that they could walk side by side, but Gilbert stepped in front with a wave of his hand. He had, after all, come to offer protection. Each step seemed to creak, and Richard even felt one or two sag beneath his weight.
On the second floor, they found two bedrooms and a rather tired bathroom. As with downstairs, the rooms were empty. In the larger bedroom, the front window that overlooked the front of the house had been smashed, and rain lashed the floor. At the other end of the hall was the smaller bedroom, along with the bathroom. The tub and sink were ringed with grime, the taps faded grey where they should have been shining silver. The toilet stood empty like it hadn't been flushed in years. It seemed the muggles had turned off the water to this house, which made sense, given its dismal condition. There was no saving it. One day, possibly very soon, the whole thing would collapse.
It was on the third floor that they found the collapsed ceiling. In the biggest bedroom was a hole that went straight through to the roof, where a large section had fallen in. The whole floor was flooded, and water was escaping in the only way it could. Down the nearest staircase. This small staircase, tucked away at the end of the hall, was the one that led down to the kitchen. The feeling of being watched was even stronger on this floor, and yet there was no sign of life. There was also no sign of dark magic or mystical artifacts. Richard was beginning to think their source had been mistaken, or else the object had been moved. There was, however, one more place to check.
Richard paused underneath the hatch leading to the loft. That it was a square hatch suggested it was a place once used for storage rather than an extra room. The problem was that after so much time, the ladder to get up there had been tossed. Tossed or removed? Or…what if it's up there? The back of his neck prickled. If it was up there, then someone or something was up there with it. Instinctively gripping his wand tighter, he looked at Gilbert, who seemed to have the same thought. Richard held his wand ready, covering the hatch as Gilbert bent his knees and took aim. He was larger and heavier than Richard; more than tall enough that when he jumped, his large hand knocked the heavy hatch out of sight. The whole panel disappeared into the darkness above, and Gilbert landed in a crouch with a loud thud. His fingers had curled like claws ready to tear, teeth bared as he glared up into the darkness. Richard's heart raced as he waited, listening for anything over the sound of the rain.
"What do you think?" Richard was surprised by how steady his voice sounded, considering the adrenaline coursing through his veins. His heart was racing, his body was shaking, and he felt tense. Despite that, his wand remained steady, chestnut eyes fixed on the dark space above their heads. Gilbert was cautious, sniffing the air and growling low in his throat. He still couldn't hear anything, but the smell was stronger than ever. Richard wouldn't smell it, he knew that much. From what he remembered, human noses were quite weak. One of the few advantages of becoming a werewolf, under the full moon or not.
"That ungodly stench is coming from up there." Richard gave a curt nod. He well remembered the ominous warning from downstairs. Something dead. Fresh or otherwise. Despite straining his ears, there was still no sound other than the rain, and since Gilbert did say anything, he assumed it was the same for him. Well, we can't stay down here all night…"Boost me up." Gilbert didn't seem too thrilled at the suggestion, but to Richard, it made perfect sense. There was no way he could climb up by himself, but Gilbert could. If Gilbert went first and there was something in the shadows, it would jump him the moment he turned away to pull him up. By going first, Richard could sweep the room and cover Gilbert as he climbed.
"I hope you know what you're doing…" It wasn't Richard's first day on the job. He understood the risks and was well prepared for them. As he was boosted, he'd be ready to either stun or push anything that came near him. As Richard nodded, Gilbert sighed and reluctantly waved him closer. Richard approached, still looking up. It was a little uncomfortable as a large arm gripped his waist and lifted while the other got beneath his feet. "You're light as a feather!" Richard felt his skin heat at the note of genuine surprise.
"Don't sound so surprised!" It wasn't like he looked heavy. He was average!
"I've hunted women with more meat on their bones!" Some of Richard's fear gave way to indignation as he shot a glare over his shoulder. Gilbert gave him a toothy grin, unintimidated.
"Then you'll be able to boost me up!" Chortling at the snark, Gilbert lowered his body. Richard tensed, gripping his wand in anticipation as he returned his attention to the task at hand. He had to make a choice. Which would be better? Stupefy or Flippendo? Stupefy would take out the target immediately, but Flippendo would knock back anything in the area and give him some breathing space. He still hadn't entirely decided as Gilbert started grunting in his ear. "One…Two…Three!" A weightless feeling filled Richard's chest as he was tossed. The arm on his waist fell away, the hand beneath propelling him upwards. He wasn't sure how he managed not to scream like a child, but as he flew through the hatch, his wand lit the cluttered space enough for him to get his bearings. His feet touched down, knees automatically bending to absorb the impact. He paused for a moment, still wary as he swept the space. "Looks clear."
He didn't need to look to know Gilbert was following. With a single leap, his large hands gripped the edge, and he pushed himself up. It was much colder in the loft. Wind rushed in, ruffling Gilbert's thick mane as he stalked across the room. The floor was wet as rain lashed the wood and fell through the hole in the floor. Roughly a quarter of the roof had caved in, taking part of the floor beneath with it. Unlike the rest of the house, there were signs of life here. Old crates and furnishings long forgotten. The crates could wait. What drew Richard's eye most was a pile of mouldy looking blankets in a darkened corner beside which stood some sort of picture or mirror.
The frame was covered by a ragged white sheet, which is why Richard couldn't tell exactly what it was. Not even the shape. All he knew was that it had a triangular top, and the front was flat. It seemed to stand on its own, so it must have had a base of some sort, and it was taller than him. Probably something left by the muggles. And yet, it drew his eye. Frowning, Richard stepped closer. The corner of the sheet was crooked, giving him a view of a silvery surface. So, it's an old mirror. Gripping the sheet, Richard pulled it away to reveal a heavy bronze frame, so faded and ornate that it almost looked like carved stone. The top of the thick frame, which stood on heavy clawed feet, was triangular, with two pointed pillars rising on either side. Within the frame was an arched silver mirror, the surface of which was clean. Too clean…Someone had been coming to clean it regularly, but why?
"Someone's been here," Richard called over his shoulder as he stood in front of the surface. Looking at the frame, he thought he might have found a clue. Etched into the surface above the silver mirror was a message. Erised stra ehru oyt on woshi. It wasn't a language Richard recognised, but perhaps he could ask Hank on his next visit. The thought sent a feeling of warmth and anticipation through him. This was right up Hank's alley, the sort of thing that used to keep him in the office for hours. Richard balked. There was movement in the mirror! Staggering back, Richard raised his wand and turned his back, putting Gilbert on edge right away. They froze, staring at each other for a moment before Richard sighed and lowered his wand. "Nothing." It must have been Gilbert he'd seen.
Turning back to the mirror, Richard almost had a heart attack. Hank was in there! Standing right by his shoulder! But that's impossible! Turning his head, Richard saw it was indeed untrue. He was utterly alone. So how can I see him? Frowning, Richard continued to stare, taking in the warm smile on Hank's face as he wrapped an arm around his shoulders. As he saw the hand touch his shoulder, Richard almost swore he could feel it. It was his imagination, of course. Hank could no more touch him than he could touch Hank. But why is he there? Did it show the future? They both looked about the same age as they were now.
There was more movement. Richard checked over his shoulder to make sure, but Gilbert was still rummaging around the forgotten crates, sniffing the air distrustfully. A high-pitched squeaking noise told him he'd unsettled some nocturnal residents. An open, abandoned place like this was the perfect nesting ground, of course, especially with the open roof. There was an indignant fluttering and further screeches as Richard returned his attention to the mirror, where two more people had appeared. Who are they? Two boys, surely no older than six and eleven, now stood with them. They smiled as Richard looked at them, one of them waving. Richard couldn't help but wave back, still curious.
Something settled into place as the slightly shorter of the two wrapped his arms around one of his legs, gazing up at him happily. The other stood at Hank's side, accepting his hand on his shoulder and leaning in beside him. That's impossible. The boy gripping Richard's leg had soft blue eyes and fluffed brunette hair that was reminiscent of Hank in his younger years, and the second boy had the same hair, though kept slightly shorter, and deep chestnut eyes. Utterly impossible! That was one thing he knew could never come to pass.
Their lifestyle was rarely talked of in polite society, though not shunned as it was in the muggle realm. Despite that, there were certain unspoken rules. One did not speak of it, one did not show it. They would never be allowed to adopt children! A family such as this was beyond their reach, not to mention impractical with their employment. On top of that, these boys clearly shared their blood. Both their blood. Richard and Hank were both men. What he was seeing was impossible. So the mirror lies? Why? How does it even know? He and Hank had never spoken of it, of course. Why would they? It didn't do to dwell on such dreams. Dreams? Could that be it? He wouldn't know until he took the mirror back for further study.
"Gilbert! This is it! It's the mirror! We should get it ready for transport." They'd need to be careful. Mirrors were delicate, and there might be something evil lurking within it. In a way, the mirror itself was already quite cruel. How sad to be shown something so wonderful, yet so impossible. Richard's gaze remained on the surface, a sigh fleeing his lips as he smiled at the happy family staring back at him.
"No!" It was a long, drawn-out cry of insanity. Richard didn't even have time to turn his head before two cold arms had wrapped around him. One clawed hand gripped his chest while the other restrained his wand arm. A mindless roar filled his ear, stale breath touching his skin, and then a searing pain burned his neck. Chestnut eyes wide, Richard stared in the mirror, horrified as he watched the pale wretch bending over him, blood soaking its lips. Richard yelped in shock, unable to move as ice trickled through his veins. With a shuddering breath, he felt his body calm and relax. His eyes suddenly felt lazy, and the shock gave way to acceptance. Why should he fight? It actually felt quite wonderful. The ice that had first pierced his veins had melted into something painless. In fact, there were now delightful tingles running across his skin, the sensation making him gasp and squirm. The eyes that met his in the mirror had once been brown, but they'd now changed to glowing amber as they stared. His eyelids were getting heavy. That's alright. He could just go to sleep. His wand was already slipping through his fingers, and then the teeth in his throat were torn free by force.
A cry of agony fled his lips as he fell to his knees, gripping the gushing wound and looking over his shoulder to see Gilbert hauling the mad man back by his long, tangled hair. Not a man! With a look of horror, Richard realised he knew what it was. Vampire! Not much could kill a vampire, especially if they transformed. Just as he thought it, the vampire transfigured itself into a swarm of shrieking bats. Holding his arms over his head to protect his face, Richard listened to Gilbert's mindless roars of annoyance. Sharp teeth nipped at him. Anything they could reach. His arms, his back, his ears, and even his face.
"You cannot take the mirror! You can't take it from me!" The vampire had reformed, Richard's blood still dripping from his lips. Though not much larger than Richard, the vampire was far stronger. "I won't let you take her!" Her? Richard could only guess that meant whatever he saw in the mirror. It seemed to have driven him mad. Red lips snarled, sharp teeth almost cutting his own lip. Gilbert tackled him, but was easily thrown over the vampire's smaller shoulder. He seemed most intent on Richard, likely because he was the one who'd suggested moving the mirror.
"Alright!" Richard yelled, holding up his arms and keeping his wand loose. The vampire's eyes followed the glowing tip of his wand. By the fact he could transform, Richard knew this vampire had once been a wizard. That meant he had his own wand somewhere, or should have. "We won't take her." The vampire's lips curled, amber eyes glowing.
"Liar!" He was, of course, lying. Such a dangerous artefact couldn't be left in the open where any unwitting muggle could find it. Worse, any muggle that entered this house was likely to become the vampire's lunch. Both things would have to go. Usually, wizards and vampires lived amicably, keeping out of each other's way. In this instance, the vampire was clearly insane. How long had it been here? How long had it stared into the surface of that cursed mirror? That was the only word for it. Cursed.
"Flippendo!" The vampire flew backwards with the spell, giving Richard enough time to get to his feet, and Gilbert time to charge him. Cursing inwardly, Richard watched the vampire dodge around Gilbert almost faster than he could see. Few things could stop a vampire. Silver was one of them, but he had no silver with him. He might also use garlic, though that would only slow him down. What he did have access to was fire. Seeing Richard readying his wand, the vampire charged, screaming wildly and knocking them both to the rotting floor. An icy hand gripped Richard's throat as the vampire gritted his teeth. His eyes were glowing, the gentle light filling Richard with a sudden calm. Why should he fight? There was nothing to fear, no danger here. Feeling Richard's struggles lessen, the vampire grinned, tightening the hand on his bleeding neck.
"Richard!" Something heavy struck the vampire's shoulder, distracting him enough to break eye contact. Panicking, unable to draw breath through the frigid grip on his throat, Richard did the first thing that came to mind. Raising his head, he bit the arm above his face, not letting go until copper touched his tongue. The vampire cursed and drew back, soon distracted again as Gilbert jumped on his back. As they toppled away, Richard lunged for his wand and aimed in their direction.
"Gilbert! Incendio!" He didn't dare give more of a warning than that. It seemed his name was all the werewolf needed to hear. Leaping clear, the flames barely touched the leather of his coat. Richard held his wand steady, keeping up the stream of flames until his knees gave out again. Gasping for breath, Richard stared at the place he'd last seen the vampire. Did I get him? He wasn't sure. His whole body was starting to quake from the cold and over exertion, clothes soaked through from rolling on the floor. Sodden footsteps approached, and he looked up to see Gilbert.
"Richard, the blood!" Seeing Gilbert, Richard almost collapsed in relief. It was like all the strength went out of him. He wasn't sure if it was the bite or the choking, but he felt weak. His eyes fluttered, his body falling until a large hand gripped his shoulder to keep him on his knees. Gilbert knelt in front of him and cupped his cheeks, tapping the clammy skin to make him open his eyes. Richard wasn't sure he could manage it for long. I really don't feel well…It was like before, like when he was first bitten. Ice was coiling through his veins, leaving an odd burn in its wake. "Did you swallow it? Richard, did you swallow it?" Rough hands shook his shoulders, rousing him just enough to shrug. He wasn't sure. Copper touched his tongue, but did he swallow any? He couldn't remember.
"H-Hank." If there was one person he needed right now, it was Hank.
"Hank?" Of course. Gilbert wouldn't know. They were in different departments, and he had come later.
"Anderson…Hank Anderon. N-need-" He stopped with a pained grunt and clutched his chest. Something wasn't right. There was a sharp pain in his chest. He couldn't draw breath. It was excruciating! Opening his mouth, he tried to scream, but barely got out a whimper. Panic surged through him, making his body shake. His heart should be pounding with adrenaline, but he couldn't feel it. He was numb.
"Hank Anderson? At the school?" Richard could barely nod, but it seemed Gilbert understood. He didn't even have time to think about it. Knowing how important their work was, he couldn't simply leave the mirror unattended. There was little choice but to take it with them to the school. Throwing Richard over his shoulder, Gilbert stalked to the mirror and gripped the gilded frame. With the protections around Hogwarts, he couldn't disapparate within the grounds, but he could get them to the gates. With a loud crack, the loft was left empty. For a moment, all was still. Then, with an almighty creaking crack, the entire house sank. Floor by floor, it caved in on itself until only rubble and ruin remained.