A little past nine in the evening, Moonstone Mews.


Yavin Morgenthau walked through Diagon Alley on his way home from dinner, sporting a dark red winter coat over his surprisingly conservative black suit. It had been a meal out with one of his visiting sisters from New York and he had seen her off at Kings Cross before returning to the mews. As far as Mondays went, an eventless evening. He knew this was going to change as soon as he turned into the quiet of his street and spotted a familiar figure in front of No.13.

Golden hair sticking out from the bottom of his wool hat, Virgil was always recognisable to him.

The young wizard turned at the sound of footsteps and Yavin stopped a few feet away. He looked tense, worried. Faint scent of gillyweed about him. Yav nodded and opened the door, letting them both in.

His house was neat and comfortable and full of knickknacks from his many travels. Virgil had visited many times before; the door shut behind them and they wordlessly headed into the living room, where a fire was barely alive. He flicked his wand, causing the flames to swell. The fireplace was at the far end of the room, away from the window and its writing desk. Here, two armchairs and a love seat were positioned for conversation.

             "Do you know what Muse is?" Virgil asked as Yavin lowered himself into an armchair.

"I am, ah, I am aware," he answered warily, and nodded at the other chairs. His protege did not sit. "You're not... you're not on it right now, are you?" his gaze fixed itself on the anxious face, the self-contained eyes.

Yavin could never read Virgil. And he never tried, either. The one time he did it had felt like a black hole.

"No."  Virgil answered, speaking haltingly, gaze moving from one thing to another - his mentor, the fire, the little monkey statuettes on the mantel. "But I did, earlier. Yavin, do you really know what it is? Really? Do you know that it's got memories in it?" he looked at Yavin more steadily now.

After wandering around Diagon for a while, he came right here with firm intentions. Virgil wasn't happy about lying to Waverly[1] and he wanted to talk about this right away, before he lost his nerve. Someone else had to know about this. Someone who actually understood how awful and insidious it was. Yav would understand. Yav always understands.

"It's like... it's like they're cut out of somebody's head," he pressed on urgently, rubbing his fingers to warm them. "And you can't even bloody pull yourself out without ripping them to shreds. Someone's doing this! Someone is making Muse out of people's memories."

It felt good to say it out loud without having to force calm into his voice. He could let the tremor show, the upset apparent in his countenance. Yavin was looking at him with a sombre expression. Quiet. Why was he so quiet? And for so long?

            "Virgil. Don't come into work tomorrow."

"What?" Confusion overtook Virgil's panic, somehow giving him stability. "I''ve not been incapacitated by it, I'm fine. I'll sleep it o--"

1.	16th Jan - That Lifting Sensation

            "I'm fine. I'll sleep it o--"

"That's not it." Yavin crossed his legs, folding himself into the armchair. They hadn't lit the lamps and so the room was still dark, firelight flickering across hiss pointed features. Angry features. "I don't want to , ah, I don't want to see your face, you understand?" he  enunciated clearly and felt a prick of guilt when Virgil flinched.

The last thing he wanted was for the young wizard to be hurt. This was at odds with what they did on Mysteries, yes, but at least he could control the variables at the Ministry of Magic. At least he was there.

"What were you thinking?" he failed to strangle down his anger, and took off his spectacles. "You can't... you can't just take things like Muse, Virgil, you know this. Gillyweed is one thing, we've, um, we've studied it. There are legal uses. Muse? Muse is Russian Roulette."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed for a moment. "Worse. It's, hm, it's worse with your brain because it's like Russian Roulette with a bullet in every fucking chamber of the gun."

The old wizard slipped his glasses back on and focused on Virgil, who had gone curiously blank - shoulders drawn in.

"Go home. We'll talk about this later in the, um, in the week.," he shook his head, suddenly feeling very old and very tired. "Of all people, Virgil, you should know better than to play it loose and easy with your head. You're more vulnerable and you--"

Yavin stopped himself to breathe out heatedly. He couldn't understand it. The instinct to experiment was natural and easy when you're young but Virgil couldn't afford to do certain things. Those were the cards he'd been dealt in life, and that he'd risk damaging a gift like that was incomprehensible to Yavin even after all these years.

            "Alright." Virgil's voice was a whisper. Yavin hesitated, guilt rising, but the kid wasn't having it. "It's okay. I understand, I do. I'll go. See you Wednesday."

He had taken off his wool hat earlier, and now pulled it back on his blond head. That was it. If there had been more Virgil wanted to say, it was never going to see the light of day. Yavin realised that with regret as soon as Virgil left. The fire was too warm and the room too dark.

This was never a home for children, Indira once said.


End