Post by Deleted on Jul 20, 2014 11:47:42 GMT
....for a fellow Death Eater, no less.
He had pondered the idea that this particular job might not be as bad as the usual ones. After all, if Magnus Svehla had wanted the worst for his wife, he would have probably arranged for Greyback to handle everything personally. Although, there was still time for that - Thorfinn was only supposed to find out the location of this troublesome wife of his, or, better yet, their children, Svehla's ultimate goal. If someone else was sent in for the dirtier work concerning the wife, Thorfinn would not worry about it in the slightest. If they chose to send him just to put his loyalty and nerve to a test, though...
This train of thought ended in the same place as a previous one had. He had been idly lurking about Godric's Hollow, where, after drinking lots of firewhiskey with the shadiest of the shady folk, he had found out a woman simillar to Helena Svehla had been sighted. The worst thing about it all was the waiting. He had to be sober while doing it - well, remotely sober and most of the time - and it left lots of thinking time. Too much thinking time.
So, he had recalled what he knew about Helena Svehla. She had been a columnist of some sort - actually, he had a very vague memory of Gaby(of all the people to think of now) mentioning an article of hers onsomething. He'd seen pictures of the woman and wondered what exactly was it that people would remember her for better - her column back then or her current work against the ministry. He guessed she had been much happier back then, even if she'd be more renowned for her work now. Once she was executed for it by the Dark Lord, if nothing else.
He'd also sauntered upon the thought of what people thought of him upon sighting him(other than the inevitable 'ahhh, big, bad snatcher' part). There had been an article on him recently - someone at work had showed it to him and they had both laughed hard at it. But he had felt more like retching hard than laughing hard - and not because of one too many a drink.
That had been another time they had put his loyalty to a test . Prior to that, he had been ambushed by a couple o mudblood teenagers he had been ordered to escort to a Death Camp. Of course he'd seen them nervously and sloppily hiding that glass bottle they'd broken over his head. But he had also known his orders; if there is any sight of resistance, kill them. So, he had told himself it was nothing dangerous they had. And they had escaped.
Now, he was not certain whether or not he should have killed them. Somehow, it might have felt than much less a sin compared to what he'd had to do to that poor, muggle girl one week later.
All of his fellow snatchers had been with him that time - they were raiding the home of a witch who had married a muggle and whose children had no magical talent. He had used Avada Kedavra on both the parents - more merciful than Greyback's teeth. But as he left the house, his fellow snatchers had surrounded a muggle child; a girl of ten. She had, apparently, tried throwing knives at the Death Eaters. 'Do you need a lesson - or can you make her scream for us, Rowle?' He knew full well what the lesson would have entitled. And he knew full well, even without their directions, what was expected of him.
The article had described the state of the girl's body when found. He had no idea how anyone knew it had been him, nor did he care. He wanted to forget, but in his nightmares he vividly recalled every Crucio and worse -- yes, there was worse and he had done worse. It had taken him a month to be able to eat after that - thank Merlin he had his whiskey, at least. But, in public - of course he had laughed it all off. What else was there to do? And had sparing those two mudbloods been worth anything?
So, as he sighted the redhead fitting Mrs. Svehla's description, he wondered if she would recognize him. She surely would. He wondered if she had written that article. As if it matters.
He followed after her through the alleys of Godric's Hollow.
He had pondered the idea that this particular job might not be as bad as the usual ones. After all, if Magnus Svehla had wanted the worst for his wife, he would have probably arranged for Greyback to handle everything personally. Although, there was still time for that - Thorfinn was only supposed to find out the location of this troublesome wife of his, or, better yet, their children, Svehla's ultimate goal. If someone else was sent in for the dirtier work concerning the wife, Thorfinn would not worry about it in the slightest. If they chose to send him just to put his loyalty and nerve to a test, though...
This train of thought ended in the same place as a previous one had. He had been idly lurking about Godric's Hollow, where, after drinking lots of firewhiskey with the shadiest of the shady folk, he had found out a woman simillar to Helena Svehla had been sighted. The worst thing about it all was the waiting. He had to be sober while doing it - well, remotely sober and most of the time - and it left lots of thinking time. Too much thinking time.
So, he had recalled what he knew about Helena Svehla. She had been a columnist of some sort - actually, he had a very vague memory of Gaby(of all the people to think of now) mentioning an article of hers onsomething. He'd seen pictures of the woman and wondered what exactly was it that people would remember her for better - her column back then or her current work against the ministry. He guessed she had been much happier back then, even if she'd be more renowned for her work now. Once she was executed for it by the Dark Lord, if nothing else.
He'd also sauntered upon the thought of what people thought of him upon sighting him(other than the inevitable 'ahhh, big, bad snatcher' part). There had been an article on him recently - someone at work had showed it to him and they had both laughed hard at it. But he had felt more like retching hard than laughing hard - and not because of one too many a drink.
That had been another time they had put his loyalty to a test . Prior to that, he had been ambushed by a couple o mudblood teenagers he had been ordered to escort to a Death Camp. Of course he'd seen them nervously and sloppily hiding that glass bottle they'd broken over his head. But he had also known his orders; if there is any sight of resistance, kill them. So, he had told himself it was nothing dangerous they had. And they had escaped.
Now, he was not certain whether or not he should have killed them. Somehow, it might have felt than much less a sin compared to what he'd had to do to that poor, muggle girl one week later.
All of his fellow snatchers had been with him that time - they were raiding the home of a witch who had married a muggle and whose children had no magical talent. He had used Avada Kedavra on both the parents - more merciful than Greyback's teeth. But as he left the house, his fellow snatchers had surrounded a muggle child; a girl of ten. She had, apparently, tried throwing knives at the Death Eaters. 'Do you need a lesson - or can you make her scream for us, Rowle?' He knew full well what the lesson would have entitled. And he knew full well, even without their directions, what was expected of him.
The article had described the state of the girl's body when found. He had no idea how anyone knew it had been him, nor did he care. He wanted to forget, but in his nightmares he vividly recalled every Crucio and worse -- yes, there was worse and he had done worse. It had taken him a month to be able to eat after that - thank Merlin he had his whiskey, at least. But, in public - of course he had laughed it all off. What else was there to do? And had sparing those two mudbloods been worth anything?
So, as he sighted the redhead fitting Mrs. Svehla's description, he wondered if she would recognize him. She surely would. He wondered if she had written that article. As if it matters.
He followed after her through the alleys of Godric's Hollow.
