Everything was as Hermione had said. Rose Lane, Salcott, a big blue house at the end of the street. There, Abigail found her target hard at work in his study, bent over his papers.
She had entered the home with no trouble, and stood now at the entrance of the study. „Master Irion," she whispered the name more than said it.
„Just a moment, please..." Irion continued to write unperturbed by the fact that there was a stranger in his home. Then he actually looked at her and set aside his fountain pen, eyes wide. „I beg your pardon?" he said, uncertain.
Abigail took a step forward. „Sit, please," she raised a hand as the wizard began to stand.
„Who are you? What are you doing in my house?"
„My name is Abigail LaFey, but I speak for the Dark Lord, Malachi Greymist. I've been sent here by my Lord to secure your cooperation."
Irion's dementia was of a kind where his short–term memory was abysmal, but he could remember events from the past with ease, things that happened months, years, decades ago. And he sure remembered the name and the stories of the tyrant of Seattle. There was something rewarding in his eyes then. Recognition. „The Excruciator," he hissed, and went for his wand.
But Abigail was faster. In the blink of an eye the wand was in her hand and she broke it. The wand was pulsing with a fading flicker of pale light as it died. Trace veins of energy, like cobwebs made of miniature lightning, played across Abigail's fingers, the fingers she had used to snap the wand in two and throw it into the corner. „You won't be needing that. You need only take your papers with you. Come along, now!" she said cheerfully, flashing a smile she had learned to adopt four years ago, on her first job.
For a moment she was worried that dementia would remain a factor, especially since there were many papers scattered about on the master's writing desk. But apparently not. Irion stared at her for a moment, then at the broken and tossed away wand with a grimace of pain. The little flickering traceries of light died away, and vanished as he stared at them. Finally he relented, for what else could he do without his wand? He picked up the papers, as ordered, and went out of the study with Abigail close behind.