Absit Omen RPG

Ignan's information was appreciated, but his order that Sid was to help him with the Slytherins was not. Landis' gaze lingered on their Deputy Headmaster, his scorn whisked away and his expression turning opaque; though happy to argue with Tapendra or Maiko, he did not outwardly question Ignan. The man did not seem to have an excess of patience at the moment.

Shona was right as well, and though also discontent with that suggestion (possibly being saddled with more incompetent specimens of the Auror department due to short-staffing) Landis did not vocalize it. Surely it would only be to their benefit to not have the Aurors sit in on interviews as he'd initially expected - the students might be more comfortable, more likely to reveal what they'd seen. All the professors seemed to be on the same page regarding Valentine's. At the least it would serve as a good distraction.

At Maiko's request he almost volunteered. He could certainly be stoic, but after the earlier tumult Landis was aware he'd hardly be accused of sensitivity. Perhaps later, if she found no one else.

So the press was handled, as were letters to parents - Ignan would likely be the one to speak with Aurors when they arrived, and Felinus was securing the perimeter. Valentine's was sorted. "If the responsibility of hosting the ball is passed off to the students, it would give them more to occupy their minds and take one more matter off our plate."

They were ready to split and move onto their respective tasks. After, Landis would speak to Blackburn, tell him to stay away from his Slytherins. He could not think of a single reason to need the man's help, unless he could foist the younger more emotional children off on him. He had interviews to conduct, letters to write, the whole castle would be bustling. Perhaps the 7th years could be persuaded to practice their wards on the dorms (under supervision, of course); that might make the whole lot feel better. A little extracurricular defense lesson never hurt.

Landis stalked closer. Indeed, any Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff would be dead. Certainly their house points would be in the negatives. But no, this was one of his wards, though he loathed to admit such a disgrace belonged to his house. He stopped a few feet away from Eli, looking down at the boy's slug impression, and wondered how unclean he'd feel for Silencio-ing that thong.

"Amherst." His voice was low but poisonous. "I can't imagine what made you think anyone wanted to see that unimpressive display." Behind them the books that had been shaken off the bookcase along with Eli began to reshelve themselves at the flick of his wand. He noted the bravery involved in this foolish prank - noted and wanted to crush it, though unfortunately Amherst often seemed inexhaustible. Normally Landis was happy to assign detention cleaning toilers, or the soul-sapping dullness of organizing the reference section by hand. But not this time. Such a creative prank deserved a creative punishment. He glanced out one of the tall, narrow windows. The sky was foreboding, an ominous overcast that promised low temperatures and wind sharp as a knife. Snow was falling in fat frigid flakes. It was still on the ground from yesterday as well but eh, the boy wouldn't die. If he froze his niffler off, well. There were spells for that sort of thing.

"Since you seem to have lost yours, why don't I escort you down to Hogsmeade to buy new robes?" It was phrased like a generous offer, but the tone, his expression, they were the opposite of comforting. He snapped his fingers and pointed to a 6th year staring at them by the tables. She hurried over at once, wise enough not to object to his method of summoning. He told her, "Watch the library. I will return momentarily," before he turned back to Eli. He gestured imperiously towards the door. "We should stop by the dorm to retrieve your savings first. Sets of students clothing can be so expensive."

Landis held up a hand to forestall him. "Not now. Tonight." He needed to check and ensure that his sample had retained its properties in stasis. It had been almost a year since he'd last brewed it (although he couldn't use it recklessly for fear of it being traced back to him, Landis had to admit to a certain retained curiosity that called for experimentation whenever he had time). If the sample was inactive, he'd have to rebrew it - though he hoped not, since the brewing process took at least 12 hours and had to simmer another 3 days before it'd be viable. "I'll have to observe to ensure you don't have an... excessively adverse reaction. It's best done overnight when neither of us are likely to be called upon for staff duties."

And he had duties to attend to in the meanwhile, anyhow - students to calm, owls to be sent. And he'd need an excuse for Juliette if he wasn't spending the night in their quarters. Not for the first time, he wondered whether he could tell her the truth (however shady it might be). Knowingly poisoning another professor might actually be a more soothing explanation than anything she might imagine him getting up to with Blackburn.

He smiled at her, though an eyebrow did quirk at the non-sequitur. Juliette could have meant any number of things. He was disappointed when it turned out that what she'd saved for him were decorations in need of placement. It was a less pleasing outcome than, oh, literally anything else.

He didn't exactly scowl, but a certain flatness of expression soured the reception of the jingling ornaments. Landis regarded them without enthusiasm as they danced towards him. "Oh, Merlin. Why did you save that?" He did take hold of the last ornament as she knocked it towards him, though he closed his fingers over it very quickly as though to hide the glittering heart. It belonged in the rubbish; Woolfolk would never know. He glanced down at Louis at his feet, but it was likely a hopeless consideration. The dog's destructive tendencies were neither convenient nor available by command.

For an instant he thought he heard something odd, but the sound was indistinct and Juliette quick to distract him. Though she attempted to steer him towards the tree Landis first maneuvered the tray he held in one arm over to the bar, sweets and treats wrapped up for the working professionals. His own cooking was uninspired, as were his eating habits, and he could not decide if the unasked-for tray was simply Christmas generosity or the elves sending him a message.

"Chaotic," he replied crisply, "As usual. I'm ready for a month of adult company."

Now it was Landis' turn to look overly casual as he laced his arms across his chest. "It occupies what you might call a legal grey zone," he admitted airily, cool as one pleased - as if he hadn't just turned his head to confirm that the corridor was empty before he spoke. "Officially the Ministry funds all research done by the DoM, but if a failed project found its way onto the market the pool of suspects would be rather slim." Landis had worked with experimental spells and potions for his time in the Department of Mysteries. Frankly he missed it, and during particularly trying detentions thought wistfully of the DoM's isolated offices and ever-pervasive hush. "Hallucinations were not the intended effect. On test subjects the experience seemed to be quite... unpleasant. But I'm certain that if anyone could make use of it, it would be you, the celebrated Seer. After all, times are desperate." The icy facade cracked. It was just the barest corner of his mouth, but Landis was definitely smirking.

"Obviously. There are some things I assumed you'd prefer our colleagues not to know." Landis did not speak Italian. He ignored the term, instead eyeing Sid as though internally debating whether this discussion was worth the aggravation. He was critical of divination anyhow, certain that most of Sid's career was prettily-worded bullshit, but in his past experience with the man there had occasionally been accurate predictions. He suspected that Ira Almasy would know who might have motive for such a kidnapping; she held a long-lived reputation for both canniness and excellent contacts. But if she would not assist him, which was entirely possible, even the ramblings of an inconstant Seer became helpful.

He regarded Sid for a moment before speaking again, pale eyes cold and faintly distrustful. Flatly he offered, "I can provide you with potions to make you See."

Landis walked behind the other, his steps quiet and his gaze watchful. Though he was making no effort to hide his presence Blackburn did not notice him for the longest time. Landis took the opportunity to examine his behavior, the white knuckles, the antsy rubbing of hands. No doubt Sid was preoccupied by thoughts of his next fix. Honestly, the laxness of Hogwarts' hiring practices had become downright depressing. It didn't take an extensive network to know how Europe's favorite Seer encouraged his visions. Landis could have informed Ignan, or whomever had done the hiring; growing up with Blackburn in the periphery of his friends' circle had wholly acquainted him with the other's personal tastes.

But now that Sid was actually here, Landis didn't dare to try and get him fired: Sid had some knowledge of Landis' extracurriculars too, though his own youthful indiscretions had tended less towards mind-altering substances and more towards forays into organized crime (or, well, both). He was stuck with Blackburn in one small castle. The most he could do at this point was brace himself for Blackburn's inevitable innuendos. And make the experience for the other as hideously unpleasant as he could, of course.

Eventually Sid twigged to his presence. "What an asinine thing to say. I wish to discuss the meeting..." Landis let his eyes drift pointedly to Sid's hands, which were visibly less than steady. "That is, if I'm not keeping you from something."

The quiet was rent with an unflattering comparison - Amherst had struck again. Landis' mood soured so quickly that if he were milk he'd have curdled.

"Merlin wept," he hissed under his breath, hand twitching for his wand. Atop the shelves Eli bounded showing a truly offensive amount of skin. For about a second Landis considered siccing the gargoyle who guarded the library doors on him, only the thing was doubled over in silent laughter and at any rate at that gargoyle's speed it would take entirely too long. No. No. He knew something much quicker.

At the stern directive of his wand the top of the next bookcase in Eli's path sprouted into a wall. It was such a rapid transfiguration that the wood stretched into creation with an audible thunderclap, a sound almost as ominously reverberating as the effect when Eli slammed into said wall. The bookcase rocked below the lad, and then at Landis' continued directive proceeded to bend over and shake its parasite off.

It was only, oh, a ten or fifteen foot drop. Landis was disinclined to be sympathetic. The niffler's panicked squeaking was soothing to his soul.

A light dusting of snow covered Paris, sparkling in the lamplights and crunching underfoot as Landis made his way to Juliette's apartment. He'd flooed in to the city and the soot he'd brushed from his woolen jacket was steadily being replaced by delicate flakes of snow. It was terribly appropriate Christmas weather. Though he wasn't prone to romanticizing Paris, he had to admit that it was pretty.

What awaited him in their shared apartment was even prettier. The flat was already adorned he noted as he shrugged off his overcoat, emptying his pockets of shrunken packages. Juliette had not waited for him before dressing the tree and mantlepiece in elegant metallics. It was perhaps for the best considering that she'd discovered the previous year Landis Morgan was severely lacking in festive decorating skills; it was a blemish upon his otherwise spotless resume.

He went to his wife and kissed her, ignoring the dog's skittering claws against the hardwood as Louis made a beeline to sniff his shoes. Louis was a fanatic with very expensive tastes; spitefully when visiting Landis avoided wearing his best Italian leather oxfords. Though it was equally possible that this time the dog was after the small platter Landis held, one-armed, courtesy of Hogwarts' enterprising elves.

"Happy Christmas," he said when they'd broke apart. "You look lovely." They were still after all newlyweds. There was something very appealing about coming home to Juliette after a weeks-long stretch at the castle without her. Landis was well prepared to be pleased - already in a good mood. After all, the best part about the holidays in Paris was that there were no students anywhere.

The library at the beginning of the year was sparsely populated, almost bleak. Grey winter light filtered in through the tall windows, highlighting dust accumulated over break; the sussurus of books rustling their pages, the gentle clinking of the Restricted Section chains, had little competition in the academic hush. Progressively into the school year, the library would fill with students. Progressively their whispers would become ever more frantic as exams loomed. But for now, after the initial flurry of students procuring textbooks, things were quiet. Long papers and difficult homework had not yet been assigned.

Landis looked forward to the calm beginning of the year. He kept things so organized he hadn't yet much work to be done, and he could concentrate on other projects or even leave the library in the custody of his student helpers for long periods of time. He stood behind the check in desk, his countenance strict and eternally watchful. But looking out over the few groups of students with their heads bent quietly reading lulled him, it must be admitted, into complacency. It was - dare he say it - almost peaceful.

Blackburn's answer was characteristically unhelpful. He was as unreliable as his so-called art. And the suggestion that Landis needed support from the other - absurd! "I suggest you spend your time encouraging your inner eye instead." He met Sid's gaze, both men forming similar plans though for different reasons. As delightful as it would be to slip in a poisonous comment about Sid's habits, now was not the time. But later? Later he'd be happy to assist Sid right into a coma if that was what it took to make Sid's visions come forth. Certainly, Hogwarts was clean of the Seer's usual aids, but there were still plenty of potions that could induce hallucinations.

"Of course it's not safe, and of course we won't tell the press that!"

"It's the safest option now," Landis repeated with a short answering shake of his own head. He had not intended to spark contention over this, of all things. "All of the kidnappings - last year and now - occurred away from Hogwarts grounds. If we can control who comes into the castle, there are very few avenues of opportunity within the walls. Of course, that's assuming we're vetting those who do enter carefully. Including the Aurors."

In the wake of his wedding and Juliette returning to Hogwarts, Landis' "extracurricular" activities had dwindled. He still worked, certainly, moving in his familiar circles, keeping one ear to the ground, but it was with an uncharacteristic lack of direct involvement. It was almost impossible to slip away from the castle on business when Juliette would require an excuse, difficult to keep his macabre research hidden or explain the owls he received from contacts. Juliette had her own quarters, but she was so rarely in them. And Landis... well, he wasn't complaining. He'd humored ridiculous notions of retirement, considered consolidating his interests into more manageable aspects of crime. He'd thought about returning to the low-risk games of his youth, targeting Muggle banks and corporations for an easy pay-out. In short, he'd let the underbelly of the wizarding world slip away from him. He stopped paying attention.

This was a mistake.

It was a shock to have the children taken in an organized effort he'd heard nothing of. Slant, Morrell, his own cousin, it was quite beyond the pale. Landis had not anticipated his separate lives colliding in such a way. Could he have somehow prevented the loss of his Slytherins? It was a bitter pill to swallow; it was impossible to know. As soon as he heard he began to calculate - who could he contact? Who might know? Outwardly the man who attended Ignan's emergency meeting was as cool as ever. His glacial countenance was a counterpoint to more excitable colleagues, body language closed off and arms crossed tightly over his chest. But inwardly, his thoughts were racing to compose a delicate scheme. As soon as the meeting disbanded, he must speak to Ira. If this was her doing, he might have a chance of negotiating for the purebloods back. As far as he was concerned the others could go hang.

If it WAS her, Ira wouldn't let them all go without a little blood anyways. Some students would be sacrificed. They weren't going to get all of them back alive.

"Hogwarts is safe," he said to Tapendra. The "you blithering idiot" was implied. "It's the safest option now. If the castle remains on lockdown, there's no means of transporting more students away." It was evident that portkeys had been the cause of disappearance.

"We won't receive a ransom request." That much was obvious. They all remembered Trumble's kidnapping the year before. "An auror should be present with each of the Heads for these student interviews; they'll likely demand such anyhow. Where are they? I would have expected the castle to be crawling by now."

And lastly, Landis turned to Sid - "Blackburn, what do you know?" If his tone was sharp, well, he could be forgiven. He did not relish going to the Slytherin common room after this with no facts, no assurances with which to calm his students. They had two Seers on staff - perhaps they could actually serve some use.

((OOC: can't actually remember if portkeys work in Hogwarts or not whoops. if they do I'll edit to include Landis' volunteering to sweep for portkeys or something similar))