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“You broke your arm…. Edwin fixed you up, send you on your way even thought were a wanted man.”
It was unnerving to hear Harper tell him what he had done, in those missing gaps. Nobody’s memory was perfect, and though Lawrence’s had always been sharper than most for useful detail, it boggled at these details. And yet, it was as if the edges left by missing pieces could fit her account.
He had broken his arm, and it had been Almasy. That was still very much a sharp, painful memory. How he had quite gotten out of it was hazy, as he had noted a moment before. He’d been unable to cast, as she’d broken his right arm, and he couldn’t hold a wand without a left hand. He’d posed as muggle, ended up in a plaster cast.
Going to Edwin for help definitely seemed plausible. If Glass had meddled with that meeting of Almasy in Lawrence’s memories, it meant Lawrence had told him about it. Or he’d drawn it out through association when he’d taken his wand to Lawrence’s head. Bastard. You could really go off a wizard.
“And then on the night after the Bonfire explosions, you visited Edwin in his home. You were both listening to that Haunting Hour show... knew about the explosions… in on it. Does that sound right to you?”
Again? He had been pretty beat up after that, despite how well Hannah had healed him under duress. He’d have needed somewhere to recover, but this was starting to sound like…
“We sound like an effing couple.” Lawrence muttered, a mix of disgust on his face and resignation. “It fits, yeah, it fits with what I have.” He poked his head and blinked, confused. “Makes sense we were cozy if he was so determined to wipe my memories. And if I wanted to preserve them.” He shook his head, a general resentment for Edwin’s Ministerial power and the obliviation in general now added to by a cool dread pooling in his stomach.
“Shufflebottom,” he hissed, looking back to Eva. “I told him not to say anything. Idiot. Not that you can trust a word he says. If you two want to use my memories as evidence against Glass, you’ve just got the word of a serial liar and the Ministry’s number one manpower drain. Quit while you’re ahead.”
|
| 1. | 30th Sept, 2010 Handed on a Silver Platter |
| 2. | 5th Nov, 2010 A Warning |
| 3. | 25th December, 2010 Bearing Gifts I traverse Afar |
| 4. | July 27th, 2010 - The Scene of a Crime?, Lawrence sent the address of the fight and his initials LAM to Edwin after getting Hannah out. |
| 5. | 28th July, 2010 A Pound of Flesh |
| 6. | 28th July, 2010 My Old Friend |
3
Fourth Floor: Spell damage / Re: [Feb 22] You Have to Hand it to Them (Harper, Eva)
June 16, 2020, 03:39:39 PM
Shufflebottom? He blinked twice, trying to place what Willy had to do with it. Last he’d heard, Shufflebottom was still very much in Azkaban. They must have spoken to him. But nobody could believe a word Willy said, he was a habitual liar.
“… they were about how Edwin as helping you. When you were working for Ira Almasy. How he… he seemed to know things he shouldn’t have. Like the Leaky Cauldron explosions.”
It seemed a lifetime ago that he’d come to in the inferno of the Leaky Cauldron’s kitchen, impaled and worse for wear. He remembered that alright, but he didn’t recall anything to do with Edwin about it. Just what had happened after. Hannah, broken bones, Ira. The memory was as good as turning on a cold shower down his neck.
“Edwin was helping me?” Lawrence asked, as if testing how that tasted in his mouth. “He wanted me apprehended, I hardly think the … “ He stopped, his mind grasping into that blackness of obliviated memories.
Lawrence’s expression dropped quickly and he spoke quietly. “I don’t remember… I can’t remember.” He sighed in frustration, chastised himself, “State the obvious.”
The growing clarity of not knowing instilled a panic. Lawrence suddenly brought his feet up onto the front of the armchair, curling his body protectively. Behind raised knees, he bit his remaining thumb between his teeth and stared unseeing across the room, busy running through his memories of the Leaky Cauldron of anything about Edwin after.
“Why now? Why did you look at them now? Why has Shufflebottom said anything to either of you?” He broke out of his staring match with the wall and looked to Eva for this answer. She was the one who suggested he would be able to help. If she were deputy on Two, then she was the one opening any investigation on the Minister.
“… they were about how Edwin as helping you. When you were working for Ira Almasy. How he… he seemed to know things he shouldn’t have. Like the Leaky Cauldron explosions.”
It seemed a lifetime ago that he’d come to in the inferno of the Leaky Cauldron’s kitchen, impaled and worse for wear. He remembered that alright, but he didn’t recall anything to do with Edwin about it. Just what had happened after. Hannah, broken bones, Ira. The memory was as good as turning on a cold shower down his neck.
“Edwin was helping me?” Lawrence asked, as if testing how that tasted in his mouth. “He wanted me apprehended, I hardly think the … “ He stopped, his mind grasping into that blackness of obliviated memories.
Lawrence’s expression dropped quickly and he spoke quietly. “I don’t remember… I can’t remember.” He sighed in frustration, chastised himself, “State the obvious.”
The growing clarity of not knowing instilled a panic. Lawrence suddenly brought his feet up onto the front of the armchair, curling his body protectively. Behind raised knees, he bit his remaining thumb between his teeth and stared unseeing across the room, busy running through his memories of the Leaky Cauldron of anything about Edwin after.
“Why now? Why did you look at them now? Why has Shufflebottom said anything to either of you?” He broke out of his staring match with the wall and looked to Eva for this answer. She was the one who suggested he would be able to help. If she were deputy on Two, then she was the one opening any investigation on the Minister.
4
Fourth Floor: Spell damage / Re: [Jan 9] Of Leaves and Voiceless Birds.
June 14, 2020, 03:35:13 PM
Lawrence exhaled, and let his head tilt back. He ran the tip of his tongue over his lips and then his teeth, as he studied the ceiling without really seeing it.
“I’d…” he drew out the word. “I’d tell her how I really felt.” He shrugged and looked back at Sandy, sure his old Hogwarts classmate would remember who he meant. “I’d have told Susannah. Probably when I was training, or soon after. You know, once I’d stopped being quite an arsehole and realised I was still hung up on her.”
They had remained close in their twenties, and he’d hated watching her choose rubbish boyfriend after rubbish boyfriend. They’d seen how he looked at her. He’d have done the same if she’d been his and he’d seen himself looking at her.
“Of all my regrets, that’s one because I didn’t act, rather than because I did something, or the wrong thing. If you get what I mean.” He lifted his remaining hand and let it fall onto his knee.
“Who knows, maybe if I’d said it, we’d have got together and I’d thought twice. Thought about the impact of my actions on us rather than just me. Or maybe that’s a romantic idea that a woman could ‘save’ me from the wrong path. Divination could equally argue my fate was sealed from birth. For all I know there was a prophecy on Nine waiting for me to fulfil it. Wouldn’t that be a nice excuse.”
He gave a sad little smile, as he often did with a nostalgia trip.
“Misslethorpe you’ve quite ruined my good mood you bastard. Are you trying to be a replacement for my dementors?” There was humour behind the suggestion. “Or are you fishing for content after all…?”
“I’d…” he drew out the word. “I’d tell her how I really felt.” He shrugged and looked back at Sandy, sure his old Hogwarts classmate would remember who he meant. “I’d have told Susannah. Probably when I was training, or soon after. You know, once I’d stopped being quite an arsehole and realised I was still hung up on her.”
They had remained close in their twenties, and he’d hated watching her choose rubbish boyfriend after rubbish boyfriend. They’d seen how he looked at her. He’d have done the same if she’d been his and he’d seen himself looking at her.
“Of all my regrets, that’s one because I didn’t act, rather than because I did something, or the wrong thing. If you get what I mean.” He lifted his remaining hand and let it fall onto his knee.
“Who knows, maybe if I’d said it, we’d have got together and I’d thought twice. Thought about the impact of my actions on us rather than just me. Or maybe that’s a romantic idea that a woman could ‘save’ me from the wrong path. Divination could equally argue my fate was sealed from birth. For all I know there was a prophecy on Nine waiting for me to fulfil it. Wouldn’t that be a nice excuse.”
He gave a sad little smile, as he often did with a nostalgia trip.
“Misslethorpe you’ve quite ruined my good mood you bastard. Are you trying to be a replacement for my dementors?” There was humour behind the suggestion. “Or are you fishing for content after all…?”
5
Fourth Floor: Spell damage / Re: [Feb 22] You Have to Hand it to Them (Harper, Eva)
May 29, 2020, 05:00:13 PM
Kuester clarified her new role within the Ministry of Magic, and Lawrence’s brow, creased with confusion, suddenly smoothed at hearing her lateral promotion.
“… and … we have reason to believe you may be able to help us; Miss Graves and I.” Lawrence glanced to his left to Harper sat between them and the door, checking her reaction. She seemed as sane as ever. He trusted Harper. She wouldn’t have brought Kuester unless she had something worthwhile to say, she’d have already advised Lawrence against saying anything the moment they arrived if she was here despite his legal representation’s best interests.
Eva wasted no time in asking a question about the nature of the friendship between the former auror and the now Minister for Magic. He took one further glance at Harper and wet his lips, grazing his teeth over them while he thought about his answer.
“Yeah, we were friends. Not close, but work friends,” he shrugged at his answer. “We had friends in common, like most people do. He was an obliviator, I was an auror and we’d do the odd job together.” He licked his lips properly and shuffled in his seat, taking the cue Kuester wanted a little more elaboration without her having to say another word.
“We got to know each other a bit better because we were both groomsmen at Octavius Pepper’s wedding. You know the guy who painted Minister Bagnold in the nud? He was a family friend, turned out also a friend of Edwin’s. We were both looped into helping out, or rather keeping the groom out of trouble. We got properly talking then I think. He knew everyone’s name there. On the cusp of impressive and creepy.”
Lawrence pinched his fingers and shrugged. His mind was trying to drag forward any other useful information, and there was that strange blank feeling again. Like reaching for an object in the dark and grasping short of it, fingers combing through empty air.
“The memories were about Edwin then? I asked you to keep them before he had me obliviated, yes?” He looked back to Harper. “He’s definitely obliviated something from me about him. I can feel it. My memory is trying to grasp for records that just aren’t there. What’s he done now?”
“… and … we have reason to believe you may be able to help us; Miss Graves and I.” Lawrence glanced to his left to Harper sat between them and the door, checking her reaction. She seemed as sane as ever. He trusted Harper. She wouldn’t have brought Kuester unless she had something worthwhile to say, she’d have already advised Lawrence against saying anything the moment they arrived if she was here despite his legal representation’s best interests.
Eva wasted no time in asking a question about the nature of the friendship between the former auror and the now Minister for Magic. He took one further glance at Harper and wet his lips, grazing his teeth over them while he thought about his answer.
“Yeah, we were friends. Not close, but work friends,” he shrugged at his answer. “We had friends in common, like most people do. He was an obliviator, I was an auror and we’d do the odd job together.” He licked his lips properly and shuffled in his seat, taking the cue Kuester wanted a little more elaboration without her having to say another word.
“We got to know each other a bit better because we were both groomsmen at Octavius Pepper’s wedding. You know the guy who painted Minister Bagnold in the nud? He was a family friend, turned out also a friend of Edwin’s. We were both looped into helping out, or rather keeping the groom out of trouble. We got properly talking then I think. He knew everyone’s name there. On the cusp of impressive and creepy.”
Lawrence pinched his fingers and shrugged. His mind was trying to drag forward any other useful information, and there was that strange blank feeling again. Like reaching for an object in the dark and grasping short of it, fingers combing through empty air.
“The memories were about Edwin then? I asked you to keep them before he had me obliviated, yes?” He looked back to Harper. “He’s definitely obliviated something from me about him. I can feel it. My memory is trying to grasp for records that just aren’t there. What’s he done now?”
6
Fourth Floor: Spell damage / Re: [Jan 9] Of Leaves and Voiceless Birds.
May 26, 2020, 02:55:50 PM
“Your heart is in the right place.”
Lawrence’s twitch of both eyebrows was unintended and automatic in surprise at hearing someone tell him that. He was the heartless criminal who had turned dementors on people. Sandy was tugging his helium balloon of elation back down to the two armchairs. He stared at Sandy without blinking as he calmly suggested he would pass on the offer. It wouldn’t go anywhere, even if Sandy suggested it to the other two.
“How are you feeling about the future?”
Patient blinked, tilted his head just enough to be perceived. Take a wild guess, Sandy.
“It’s the next great adventure,” he replied after the silence went past uncomfortable. “I get to watch Harper Graves give the performance of her career to try and convince the Wizengamot I’m an angel worthy of one or two less life sentences. Like it’ll matter. At least in Azkaban I’ll get some fresh air. Not like I’ve not done it all before.” He twisted his remaining hand in the air, imagining the tall triangular tower on the unplottable North Sea island as his fingertips ascended.
“Lord knows how long they will sit in London before they pass sentence. So much to trawl through, and that’s just what I told Auror Pratt and company. Who knows what an audience might tempt me into saying.” Lawrence smiled with intent. “I am sure you will find plenty motivation to put across my offer in the meantime.”
Lawrence’s twitch of both eyebrows was unintended and automatic in surprise at hearing someone tell him that. He was the heartless criminal who had turned dementors on people. Sandy was tugging his helium balloon of elation back down to the two armchairs. He stared at Sandy without blinking as he calmly suggested he would pass on the offer. It wouldn’t go anywhere, even if Sandy suggested it to the other two.
“How are you feeling about the future?”
Patient blinked, tilted his head just enough to be perceived. Take a wild guess, Sandy.
“It’s the next great adventure,” he replied after the silence went past uncomfortable. “I get to watch Harper Graves give the performance of her career to try and convince the Wizengamot I’m an angel worthy of one or two less life sentences. Like it’ll matter. At least in Azkaban I’ll get some fresh air. Not like I’ve not done it all before.” He twisted his remaining hand in the air, imagining the tall triangular tower on the unplottable North Sea island as his fingertips ascended.
“Lord knows how long they will sit in London before they pass sentence. So much to trawl through, and that’s just what I told Auror Pratt and company. Who knows what an audience might tempt me into saying.” Lawrence smiled with intent. “I am sure you will find plenty motivation to put across my offer in the meantime.”
7
Fourth Floor: Spell damage / Re: [Feb 22] You Have to Hand it to Them (Harper, Eva)
April 25, 2020, 02:25:27 PM
Grim as ever, Kuester. Clad in grey, she’d brought something to take notes with. If her pointed stare and quill weren’t weapons enough, those heels would probably take an eye out. She took a seat, referring him back to Graves. Your lawyer. Very official. This had to be about the trial. There was nothing else he could think short of Ira or Layton rising from the dead.
Where Eva was icy blue, Harper brought flame. Not just in hair, but warmth of her greeting to him. He had missed her periodic company, even if it had been mostly bad news or scrolls to sign. There was no patter of paws behind her, but given their frosty company, this was not news to him.
“It’s about your memories,” Harper explained. A crease formed between Lawrence’s dark eyebrows. There’d been an awful lot of digging around and brushing up on his memories. As what tends to happen to anyone, his mind shot through several possibilities in a panic: that Sandy and Yavin had noted something and passed it on, that there was a discrepancy between his account and his actual memories, that there was something else they wanted to question him about… but the continuation of her sentences took him to a very different place altogether.
“We’ve had reason to look at them, Lawrence. Eva has some questions.”
The crease was deepening, and at the mention Kuester had been in those bottled memories, he glanced to her and back to Harper widening his eyes. He’d told Harper she’d know when the time was right, but he’d not accounted nor invited Kuester into whatever those memories were. It was disconcerting not to quite remember or have an idea what the memories had contained.
“… to do something about the Minister of Magic.”
Edwin? Edwin. That… that sounded plausible, but Kuester?! He looked again from Eva to Harper, as if to say but Eva?!
“Right. Right.” He replied, unsure of himself. “You both looked at the memories? Both of you?” His one remaining forefinger pointed from one to the other and back again from his lap, ending on Eva where it lingered. “But you work for him?” It was a rhetorical question. Last they’d seen each other, Kuester had advised Glass. “What are you doing looking at my memories, or even knowing they exist?!” He looked back to Harper in alarm. More that he’d no idea what was in the memories, but that it had been a scramble to do it before he’d been obliviated.
Where Eva was icy blue, Harper brought flame. Not just in hair, but warmth of her greeting to him. He had missed her periodic company, even if it had been mostly bad news or scrolls to sign. There was no patter of paws behind her, but given their frosty company, this was not news to him.
“It’s about your memories,” Harper explained. A crease formed between Lawrence’s dark eyebrows. There’d been an awful lot of digging around and brushing up on his memories. As what tends to happen to anyone, his mind shot through several possibilities in a panic: that Sandy and Yavin had noted something and passed it on, that there was a discrepancy between his account and his actual memories, that there was something else they wanted to question him about… but the continuation of her sentences took him to a very different place altogether.
“We’ve had reason to look at them, Lawrence. Eva has some questions.”
The crease was deepening, and at the mention Kuester had been in those bottled memories, he glanced to her and back to Harper widening his eyes. He’d told Harper she’d know when the time was right, but he’d not accounted nor invited Kuester into whatever those memories were. It was disconcerting not to quite remember or have an idea what the memories had contained.
“… to do something about the Minister of Magic.”
Edwin? Edwin. That… that sounded plausible, but Kuester?! He looked again from Eva to Harper, as if to say but Eva?!
“Right. Right.” He replied, unsure of himself. “You both looked at the memories? Both of you?” His one remaining forefinger pointed from one to the other and back again from his lap, ending on Eva where it lingered. “But you work for him?” It was a rhetorical question. Last they’d seen each other, Kuester had advised Glass. “What are you doing looking at my memories, or even knowing they exist?!” He looked back to Harper in alarm. More that he’d no idea what was in the memories, but that it had been a scramble to do it before he’d been obliviated.
8
Fourth Floor: Spell damage / [Feb 22] You Have to Hand it to Them (Harper, Eva)
April 13, 2020, 11:50:08 AM
Wednesday. Lawrence rubbed thoughtfully at his neck, wondering if he’d nicked the skin while shaving that morning. He pulled a face, thinking to get up and check, only part of him really didn’t give enough of a crap.
Wednesday was not ordinarily the day they let him shave (for who was going to trust him with a set of razor blades longer than a quick shave?) but this Wednesday he was due some visitors. Not just a shave today, but proper clothes. No longer stuck in temporary prisoner robes from Two, or patient robes from the hospital. He wore a white t-shirt (which had seen one too many washes, and was a little grey) and jumper (not the frightful Christmas one, but a navy blue one that rather more resembled school sports kit) and a pair of pale jeans, (they were a little long in the leg, folded up at the hem). Even though the hospital was always rather warm, he wore a pair of plain white socks as opposed to the patient slippers. They were tucked under the edge of the bed behind him.
The three armchairs clustered dead ahead of the door in out of the room, were empty apart from Lawrence. He sat in his usual middle chair, able to see the door to his left, the enchanted window to his right. The other two chairs sat at right angles, but faced each other. One normally for Sandy Misslethorpe, one for Yavin Morgenthau. But they were not his visitors today.
I wonder if she's still working with Edwin. Lawrence thought momentarily, gaze turning to the door. To his surprise, it opened. Two beats later, he got to his socked feet to receive his guests.
“Good morning,” he greeted, the brightest of his expressions to Harper, faltering when he looked to Eva Kuester. He swallowed and nodded, “Uhm, welcome to my humble abode.” He mumbled to the blonde witch, unable to meet her eyes for long.
Although he was expecting her, their last encounter - and practically any encounter before that - had never been that lovely. She was a keen reminder of some of the worst times. If he didn’t trust Harper so much, he’d never have agreed to let her come. He’d certainly not agree to see her again unless Harper was there. The Ministry were forming their cases against him, and there was no chance Kuester was here to help with the defence.
“So, erm, Kuester, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Wednesday was not ordinarily the day they let him shave (for who was going to trust him with a set of razor blades longer than a quick shave?) but this Wednesday he was due some visitors. Not just a shave today, but proper clothes. No longer stuck in temporary prisoner robes from Two, or patient robes from the hospital. He wore a white t-shirt (which had seen one too many washes, and was a little grey) and jumper (not the frightful Christmas one, but a navy blue one that rather more resembled school sports kit) and a pair of pale jeans, (they were a little long in the leg, folded up at the hem). Even though the hospital was always rather warm, he wore a pair of plain white socks as opposed to the patient slippers. They were tucked under the edge of the bed behind him.
The three armchairs clustered dead ahead of the door in out of the room, were empty apart from Lawrence. He sat in his usual middle chair, able to see the door to his left, the enchanted window to his right. The other two chairs sat at right angles, but faced each other. One normally for Sandy Misslethorpe, one for Yavin Morgenthau. But they were not his visitors today.
I wonder if she's still working with Edwin. Lawrence thought momentarily, gaze turning to the door. To his surprise, it opened. Two beats later, he got to his socked feet to receive his guests.
“Good morning,” he greeted, the brightest of his expressions to Harper, faltering when he looked to Eva Kuester. He swallowed and nodded, “Uhm, welcome to my humble abode.” He mumbled to the blonde witch, unable to meet her eyes for long.
Although he was expecting her, their last encounter - and practically any encounter before that - had never been that lovely. She was a keen reminder of some of the worst times. If he didn’t trust Harper so much, he’d never have agreed to let her come. He’d certainly not agree to see her again unless Harper was there. The Ministry were forming their cases against him, and there was no chance Kuester was here to help with the defence.
“So, erm, Kuester, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
9
Correspondence / [Jan 12] Round the Porch of Roses [Hannah]
April 13, 2020, 11:15:22 AM
Thread title from Chorley & Sullivan again. The letters remain censored (and stamped to indicate such). The handwriting is uneven, owing to relearning to write with a different hand.
Dear Hannah,
I had a most excellent dream a few nights ago. Another side effect of everything-that-I-must-not-speak-about. A really vivid dream of my auror days, right down to my favourite leather jacket. I was back on Level Two in the auror cubicles as if I’d never left them back in the early 90s. One of the best parts about it was I had my left hand back.
Wish I’d looked further into what we could do to replace it. You were so good to me when I got out and took the time to see me at St Mungo’s, let alone take me in. It’s something I’ll never quite be able to repay you for, however well I restored your charred furniture those weeks.
For obvious reasons, I can’t write and tell you how, but I can tell you I’ve very much turned a corner with things here at St Mungo’s. When you saw me at Christmas I was in good spirits, mostly for seeing you, but on waking from this dream I genuinely felt like I’d taken something mind-altering. I only imagine it’s something along the lines of having a really bad memory obliviated.
I don’t know how long the healers are going to hold onto me for, but I don’t think it will be all that long now. It could be that you next see me in the newspaper on the first day of my trial, at long last, or even when you’re on duty in Azkaban. Whatever lies ahead, will you just remember the version of me you met at Christmas. Or failing that, one of our finer moments from before you went to Hogwarts? Just not the version they write about.
If it’s the time I went to primary school parents evening instead of your mum and dad, and flirted with your class teacher, then that’d be ideal, really. (I did get her number, I can’t believe you wouldn’t let me call her to set up a date! She was a bit of alright.)
Take care, give the world hell,
Love you.
Lawrence
H Bombay
…
…
Londonc/o Harper Graves
Department of Magical Law Enforcement
Ministry of Magic
London
12th January, 2012
Dear Hannah,
I had a most excellent dream a few nights ago. Another side effect of everything-that-I-must-not-speak-about. A really vivid dream of my auror days, right down to my favourite leather jacket. I was back on Level Two in the auror cubicles as if I’d never left them back in the early 90s. One of the best parts about it was I had my left hand back.
Wish I’d looked further into what we could do to replace it. You were so good to me when I got out and took the time to see me at St Mungo’s, let alone take me in. It’s something I’ll never quite be able to repay you for, however well I restored your charred furniture those weeks.
For obvious reasons, I can’t write and tell you how, but I can tell you I’ve very much turned a corner with things here at St Mungo’s. When you saw me at Christmas I was in good spirits, mostly for seeing you, but on waking from this dream I genuinely felt like I’d taken something mind-altering. I only imagine it’s something along the lines of having a really bad memory obliviated.
I don’t know how long the healers are going to hold onto me for, but I don’t think it will be all that long now. It could be that you next see me in the newspaper on the first day of my trial, at long last, or even when you’re on duty in Azkaban. Whatever lies ahead, will you just remember the version of me you met at Christmas. Or failing that, one of our finer moments from before you went to Hogwarts? Just not the version they write about.
If it’s the time I went to primary school parents evening instead of your mum and dad, and flirted with your class teacher, then that’d be ideal, really. (I did get her number, I can’t believe you wouldn’t let me call her to set up a date! She was a bit of alright.)
Take care, give the world hell,
Love you.
Lawrence
10
Fourth Floor: Spell damage / Re: [Jan 9] Of Leaves and Voiceless Birds.
April 12, 2020, 09:37:04 AM
There was the briefest of glimpses of two old friends celebrating a victory there. Lawrence wished he could bottle this glorious feeling, remember it in the future.
“… whether this lasts…” Sandy cautioned the patient. Lawrence hoped it did. Hoped it lasted as long as he could. Despite being trapped in one room for some months, he felt like a free man. That he could go out and walk through London parks and the sun would be shining, even if it was grim early January.
“Maybe we can look at next steps.”
“I dreamt my hand was back,” Lawrence added, lifting his left arm, where there was just a stump before the wrist. Ordinarily he kept it covered by the sleeve of whatever he was wearing. It had been a keen identifier when he’d been on the run, and people stared at it given a chance. “I could feel it in my dream, like it was real. Morgenthau’s something, isn’t he?” Lawrence was still marvelling at it, and unwilling to engage with any ‘next steps’ if they involved the words ‘trial’ or ‘Azkaban’. He was quite happy here in his comfortable but simple hospital room. It was safe and he had a routine.
“Does this mean I’m ‘healed’ then, Sandy?” He relented, propping himself up on his remaining hand, elbow pushed into the arm of the chair. He drew his legs up under him, closing in all of a sudden. “That whatever you’ve done to me will work for the others out there? Have I worked as a lab rat now?” He hugged his knees. “Because I could help more, couldn’t I? I could speak to them, maybe I could learn some legilimency too and…” the high from the dream was talking.
“… whether this lasts…” Sandy cautioned the patient. Lawrence hoped it did. Hoped it lasted as long as he could. Despite being trapped in one room for some months, he felt like a free man. That he could go out and walk through London parks and the sun would be shining, even if it was grim early January.
“Maybe we can look at next steps.”
“I dreamt my hand was back,” Lawrence added, lifting his left arm, where there was just a stump before the wrist. Ordinarily he kept it covered by the sleeve of whatever he was wearing. It had been a keen identifier when he’d been on the run, and people stared at it given a chance. “I could feel it in my dream, like it was real. Morgenthau’s something, isn’t he?” Lawrence was still marvelling at it, and unwilling to engage with any ‘next steps’ if they involved the words ‘trial’ or ‘Azkaban’. He was quite happy here in his comfortable but simple hospital room. It was safe and he had a routine.
“Does this mean I’m ‘healed’ then, Sandy?” He relented, propping himself up on his remaining hand, elbow pushed into the arm of the chair. He drew his legs up under him, closing in all of a sudden. “That whatever you’ve done to me will work for the others out there? Have I worked as a lab rat now?” He hugged his knees. “Because I could help more, couldn’t I? I could speak to them, maybe I could learn some legilimency too and…” the high from the dream was talking.
11
Pensieve / Re: [1979] Are Friends Electric? [Sandy]
April 12, 2020, 04:05:33 AM
“Bugger this for a game of soldiers!” Lawrence raised his voice to give Sandy a direction to find him. Suddenly he could see his friend in the branches, and the two brooms.
“If anyone asks, we flew into each other. Yes Lawrence?”
“… Fine.”
Feeling sore and a bit sulky, given their first attempt at a proper broom race had ended in a tree, Lawrence set his jaw. He reached for Sandy’s second-best broom when offered. It had not escaped his attention that Misslethorpe had noticed some damage. In truth, Lawrence felt a little sorry for it. He never liked to muck up someone else’s stuff, unless he really disliked them.
“Up,” he spoke to the broom, firm and a little grumpy. It began to hover again, and he gingerly worked his way off the branch and onto it, wincing. “Yeah you’re right, bruises in unmentionable places.” Lawrence held his breath and let it out slowly with a hiss, rubbing his backside. “What do you reckon, get rid of these numbers and head back to The Nog?.” Had they got enough money between them for some lunch? Could he even sit down comfortably that long?
“If anyone asks, we flew into each other. Yes Lawrence?”
“… Fine.”
Feeling sore and a bit sulky, given their first attempt at a proper broom race had ended in a tree, Lawrence set his jaw. He reached for Sandy’s second-best broom when offered. It had not escaped his attention that Misslethorpe had noticed some damage. In truth, Lawrence felt a little sorry for it. He never liked to muck up someone else’s stuff, unless he really disliked them.
“Up,” he spoke to the broom, firm and a little grumpy. It began to hover again, and he gingerly worked his way off the branch and onto it, wincing. “Yeah you’re right, bruises in unmentionable places.” Lawrence held his breath and let it out slowly with a hiss, rubbing his backside. “What do you reckon, get rid of these numbers and head back to The Nog?.” Had they got enough money between them for some lunch? Could he even sit down comfortably that long?
12
Fourth Floor: Spell damage / Re: [Jan 9] Of Leaves and Voiceless Birds.
February 16, 2020, 02:13:34 PM
“They’ve gone.”
Lawrence leaned forward in his armchair, eyes wide and bright. Clear that Misslethorpe needed elaboration, he continued.
“I can’t hear them anymore. They’ve gone. I’ve been trying to hear them since, but there’s nothing. It’s like the dream was the last connection between us.” His gaze passed the healer to stare somewhere in the vague direction of the door.
“They were there, in my dream, but I fought them off. And how I’ve always described them - like hearing a radio - there was one at my feet.” The dream as ever had tried to flee on waking, but the sense of it had remained. Like a memory dredged up, amongst the others they’d salvaged. “And I switched it off.”
Without consciously acting it out, Lawrence had extended his remaining hand to mimic the twist of the dial.
“If you read me now, you’d hear it too. The silence.”
Lawrence leaned forward in his armchair, eyes wide and bright. Clear that Misslethorpe needed elaboration, he continued.
“I can’t hear them anymore. They’ve gone. I’ve been trying to hear them since, but there’s nothing. It’s like the dream was the last connection between us.” His gaze passed the healer to stare somewhere in the vague direction of the door.
“They were there, in my dream, but I fought them off. And how I’ve always described them - like hearing a radio - there was one at my feet.” The dream as ever had tried to flee on waking, but the sense of it had remained. Like a memory dredged up, amongst the others they’d salvaged. “And I switched it off.”
Without consciously acting it out, Lawrence had extended his remaining hand to mimic the twist of the dial.
“If you read me now, you’d hear it too. The silence.”
13
Fourth Floor: Spell damage / Re: [Jan 9] Of Leaves and Voiceless Birds.
December 29, 2019, 12:38:49 PM
Unable to suppress the childish reaction, Lawrence mimicked Healer Misslethorpe’s last, making a face as he did.
“Excitement!” He rolled his eyes and leaned back in his armchair. “I’ve been in one cell or another for nine months, Sandy. I’m facing the same for whatever’s left of my time in this world. Can’t a man have a joke about someone taking interest in him? Past whatever interest you, Yavin and Andy have in me as a test subject?” Restless, he got up and circled the room, dragging his feet like a bored teenager traversed a museum.
“Does every little thing have to be analysed?” He appealed, arms out, sleeves of his patient robes falling away from what would have been two wrists. His appeal was falling on deaf ears, he very much realised. It was fun to troll Sandy once in a while. It broke the monotony. The monotony and the newfound silence of his head. He never thought he’d miss it. “You know he’s fixed me?” Lawrence asked, dropping forward to lean his forearms on the back of the armchair he’d occupied. “Morgenthau and I, took a little foray through my nightmares. That’s all it took.” He narrowed his eyes to study Sandy. “I mean, when he said he had to sleep with me, I wasn’t really sure that was appropriate. That was what Andy got kicked off this for.”
Trolling Sandy was joyous, for there were multiple ways to try and rub his old friend the wrong way. He had always been sure Sandy held a candle for Andy Carter, so prodding that particular nerve after all those years was a delight. Because as far as Lawrence knew, Sandy had never had Miranda, whereas Lawrence had. One day, he hoped she’d come back to visit with Sandy in tow so he could make them both squirm a bit.
“Excitement!” He rolled his eyes and leaned back in his armchair. “I’ve been in one cell or another for nine months, Sandy. I’m facing the same for whatever’s left of my time in this world. Can’t a man have a joke about someone taking interest in him? Past whatever interest you, Yavin and Andy have in me as a test subject?” Restless, he got up and circled the room, dragging his feet like a bored teenager traversed a museum.
“Does every little thing have to be analysed?” He appealed, arms out, sleeves of his patient robes falling away from what would have been two wrists. His appeal was falling on deaf ears, he very much realised. It was fun to troll Sandy once in a while. It broke the monotony. The monotony and the newfound silence of his head. He never thought he’d miss it. “You know he’s fixed me?” Lawrence asked, dropping forward to lean his forearms on the back of the armchair he’d occupied. “Morgenthau and I, took a little foray through my nightmares. That’s all it took.” He narrowed his eyes to study Sandy. “I mean, when he said he had to sleep with me, I wasn’t really sure that was appropriate. That was what Andy got kicked off this for.”
Trolling Sandy was joyous, for there were multiple ways to try and rub his old friend the wrong way. He had always been sure Sandy held a candle for Andy Carter, so prodding that particular nerve after all those years was a delight. Because as far as Lawrence knew, Sandy had never had Miranda, whereas Lawrence had. One day, he hoped she’d come back to visit with Sandy in tow so he could make them both squirm a bit.
14
Pensieve / Re: [1979] Are Friends Electric? [Sandy]
December 29, 2019, 11:49:58 AM
Lawrence’s mouth opened to reply to Sandy, but no words came out. He’d landed stomach-first over a branch and was now draped, arms and head one side, and legs and backside the other. Any wind he’d had in his lungs had been knocked clean out of him. He reached out an arm to clasp the branch and try to haul himself up, rather than dropping down. His feet flailed a moment to try and find some purchase with his boots against the trunk or another branch.
“Fuck!” Lawrence exclaimed, genuinely annoyed. He had wiggled himself up and over to sit astride the branch, though he lay forwards, hugging it, eyes screwed shut while his sense came back to him. “Utter-!” The next few chosen expletives would make a grandmother shriek. He was somewhere below Sandy judging by the direction his voice had come in. Lawrence sat up and gingerly rubbed his stomach with his right hand. The branch was covered in bird poo. His head swam and he was probably going to have an egg on his forehead by the time they got down.
“Think so,” he called up to Misslethorpe, not specifying which of the questions he was answering. “Some idiot flew into us both. Might as well take the disillusionment off and figure out how to get down.” He didn’t fancy his chances of apparating out of a tree given his lack of experience doing it from tree branches at height. Sandy’s second-best broom had to be here somewhere too.
“Fuck!” Lawrence exclaimed, genuinely annoyed. He had wiggled himself up and over to sit astride the branch, though he lay forwards, hugging it, eyes screwed shut while his sense came back to him. “Utter-!” The next few chosen expletives would make a grandmother shriek. He was somewhere below Sandy judging by the direction his voice had come in. Lawrence sat up and gingerly rubbed his stomach with his right hand. The branch was covered in bird poo. His head swam and he was probably going to have an egg on his forehead by the time they got down.
“Think so,” he called up to Misslethorpe, not specifying which of the questions he was answering. “Some idiot flew into us both. Might as well take the disillusionment off and figure out how to get down.” He didn’t fancy his chances of apparating out of a tree given his lack of experience doing it from tree branches at height. Sandy’s second-best broom had to be here somewhere too.
15
Fourth Floor: Spell damage / Re: [Jan 9] Of Leaves and Voiceless Birds.
December 27, 2019, 12:45:57 PM
Ah, Sandy, don’t play games.
It wasn’t fair to bring something up and retreat on it. It wasn’t a good game. A dog who was teased with the possibility of food would eventually bite.
Was this one of Misslethorpe’s little ways of getting some information to rise to Lawrence’s memory? Had they already started the session without him realising? Lawrence didn’t like not knowing. They were intellectual equals or Lawrence was better. He never let Sandy have one over, unless it was to Lawrence’s longer-term benefit. It put him on edge, such was the fragility of his ego. Sandy knew it had only just been spellotaped back together!
“But you’ve implied,” Lawrence persisted, inching forward in his chair, both feet on the floor. “And this girl is insane enough to write it, not just read it.”
Lawrence narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. He was doing his best to read Sandy without any legilmens talent. Any release of information from this room, this case, would have bad consequences for several people he had grown to trust. Harper, Yavin… even Sandy and Andy.
Was this Sandy’s way to warn him Josie was trying to get in contact through other means? Why wasn’t Sandy just reaching into his mind like Yavin did? Say what you meant.
The pointed look at the mirror had not gone unnoticed. Lawrence narrowed his eyes and sat back, folding his arms. This would come back to bite Sandy later.
“Maybe I should ask Harper how I get an injunction against anyone writing it, just to be safe,” he suggested, folding one leg over the other, foot bouncing again.
Harper was paid for by the Ministry, not by him, so she had no obligation to do something like that unless it benefitted the Ministry. He glanced back up to meet Sandy’s gaze. “I suppose you’ve told the girl it’s out of the question?”
It wasn’t fair to bring something up and retreat on it. It wasn’t a good game. A dog who was teased with the possibility of food would eventually bite.
Was this one of Misslethorpe’s little ways of getting some information to rise to Lawrence’s memory? Had they already started the session without him realising? Lawrence didn’t like not knowing. They were intellectual equals or Lawrence was better. He never let Sandy have one over, unless it was to Lawrence’s longer-term benefit. It put him on edge, such was the fragility of his ego. Sandy knew it had only just been spellotaped back together!
“But you’ve implied,” Lawrence persisted, inching forward in his chair, both feet on the floor. “And this girl is insane enough to write it, not just read it.”
Lawrence narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. He was doing his best to read Sandy without any legilmens talent. Any release of information from this room, this case, would have bad consequences for several people he had grown to trust. Harper, Yavin… even Sandy and Andy.
Was this Sandy’s way to warn him Josie was trying to get in contact through other means? Why wasn’t Sandy just reaching into his mind like Yavin did? Say what you meant.
The pointed look at the mirror had not gone unnoticed. Lawrence narrowed his eyes and sat back, folding his arms. This would come back to bite Sandy later.
“Maybe I should ask Harper how I get an injunction against anyone writing it, just to be safe,” he suggested, folding one leg over the other, foot bouncing again.
Harper was paid for by the Ministry, not by him, so she had no obligation to do something like that unless it benefitted the Ministry. He glanced back up to meet Sandy’s gaze. “I suppose you’ve told the girl it’s out of the question?”