A Bend In Time

The cold winter's night is dark, the moon covered by thick clouds promising snow. A frigid wind blows carrying the sickly scent of muggle compounds made in their workshops. An immense chimney, relic of a disused mill, reared up, in the distance, shadowy and ominous. A cloaked figure with great big trench boots makes his way through the outskirts of the muggle town called, Cokeworth which is split into two parts by a dirty brook.

Past the dirty brook with overgrown, rubbish-strewn banks, there are no sounds apart from the whispers of the black waters. There is no sign of life in the area except for a scrawny cat that had slunk down the bank to hopefully nose through some old fish-and-chip wrappings in the tall grass. Why even the trees are dead and blackened.

The road is filled with rows of dilapidated brick houses that stand side by side, while the house windows are dull and dusty from the outside. There is a sign of possible life in one or two houses that dim light can be seen from a corner of the window. The lights quickly go out as if hurriedly covered or doused by the occupant. In this part of town, the people minded their own business life was bad enough as it was, and they didn't need to add problems that were not their own.

The man finally came to a halt a worn, rickety flat. The outer windows are thick with dust, the pavement is cracked and broken. The metal railing is thick with rust, the front door's paint has faded away needing a fresh coat of paint. Climbing the cracked stairs with a flick of his hand, a wand slips out of his wrist holster and falls into his waiting hand.

The tip of his wand begins to glow as the wizard traces a rune on the door. "Algol, (meaning the star Perseus)," the gruff voice said before the door to the flat opens with a screechy sound. The wizard tries to double-check one last time, before slimming inside. The door squeals loudly shut behind him.

Two wands point firmly at him without any hesitation, before the hooded wizard raises their wand and says, "Lumos." Bright light is emitted from the end of his wand as he pushes back the cowl of his hood to reveal the lined face of Alastor Moody.

The middle-aged of medium height Auror's wavy brown hair had been roughly cut to his collar. There was a deep jagged scar on the side of his cheek that runs faintly all the way up to his eyelid and ends just above his brow. There is a faint scarred scratch across the bridge of his nose where a curse attempted to remove his face. Another thin scar started at the edge of his lip and ended just under his chin stretching towards his neck, where a criminal tried to slice open his jugular and failed. Despite his battle scars, the Scottish wizard was still rugged handsome in his own way.

The two wands remain firmly fixed on Alastor Moody as the red-haired wizard with a large nose stepped into the light, Fabian Prewett. "Who did Percius Polyjuice as?" He coolly asked Moody.

"Belby," Alastor gruffly replied

The two wands slowly are lowered as the more handsome brother, Gideon Prewett steps forward. The loss of their comrade and friend, Auror Percius Clements had hit Gideon particularly hard. And it showed by the rare shadows on his face.

Gideon and Fabian had both been saved by Auror Clements in the past a multitude of times. They owed him far more than they could ever repay. And now he was gone, and that unrepaid debt still hung over them.

Alastor glances around at the dusty muggle flat. Even if the place had it been dusted, he could tell this had been a poor home. The furniture was old, torn, and patched up including what used to be a velvet armchair and couch. The floor is rickety beneath his feet before he douses the light. "Nox," and mutters a cleaning charm over the two pieces of furniture.

Old, worn, wax candles on the mantle burst into flames offering natural dim light in the cold flat. Alastor sits down in the velvet armchair tucking his robes around him to keep the cold winter's chill at bay. His bones had begun to creak with age and ache with the cold. It was all part of life; he was getting old, and his body wasn't it once was.

The floor creaks loudly as Gideon slumps down on a couch. Fabian remains standing and leans against the dusty wall. Gideon peers at his hands, before sighing bitterly. "First, it was Sara, then Alphard, and now Percius. The three of us are the only ones left now."

"We all knew the risks," Alastor grumbled in reply his sorrowful gaze fixed upon the dark fireplace. Little by little the flames had gone out and maybe one day there would be no flames left. But there was always hope and all it takes is one spark to light the burning flames again. And he certainly was no exception as for the first time in many years a witch had at last caught his eye.

The three wizards waited in silence until Fabian said, "Capricorn is late."

"I am certain he is coming," Alastor firmly replied. "He did say though, he might run a bit late."

"So, at long last, we will learn exactly who Capricorn is," Gideon remarked with a gleam of intrigue in his eyes, before turning to glance at Moody. "You've met Capricorn haven't you, Moody?"

"No," Alastor roughly said, "I've only been in communication with him. But I have my own guesses."

"Oh, who?" Gideon expectantly asked.

"They are merely unsubstantial guesses nothing more," Alastor repeated. .

Seeing the lack of response from Moody, Gideon did not ask again. Time slowly passed by as the night grew colder and trickles of snow began to flutter down from the heavens. After waiting for a quarter of an hour, Fabian quietly voices what they are all thinking. "Is Capricorn late or could have something have occurred?"

"It is not an impossibility," Moody admitted with a dark grimace. "Nothing is impossible these days."

Before any further suggestions can be made, the creak of the front steps is heard. The three wizards all alertly reach for their wands and point them at the door. The tip of a wand can be heard scratching at the door tracing a rune. The door nosily unlocks as the three Aurors hold their breaths.

The door is pushed open as a large, hooded figure enters the chamber. The figure carefully observes the hall, before moving forward. Once inside of the doorway, a second slender figure follows insides closely after shutting the door behind them. Alarmed, the three Aurors raise their wands high ready to attack.. They would die fighting on their feet that was the Auror's unspoken creed.