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by: Trevor Williams
#697
Tuesday, 14 February 2012
6:00 p.m.
Borgin and Burkes

Legends of magical, wish-granting beings were found throughout the world. The question was: was there any truth to it?

Trevor doubted it, somehow, but he had to find out. He had to know. He could leave no stone unturned in his quest to find his daughters, and since Teague was now combing over places and people with a fine-tuned comb, Trevor had decided to see if there were any magical items which might help. A genie might seem too good to be true, but there was another item he was in search of as well. He only wished he could seek out that James fellow again because the owner at Dervish and Banges had seemed rather clueless about the other, though he claimed to have a lamp. He might have fallen through on him once, but he could have manipulated things differently this time. He didn't have a desk job to return to, and even if going treasure hunting with the bloke would have taken away from time searching for his daughters, it wouldn't have been without purpose.

Too bad there were rumors James was dead. And too bad the lamp was probably going to end up an overpriced, cursed antique. Too bad genies were unlikely to be more than the river creatures from the Ivory Coast he'd learned about in Care of Magical Creatures growing up. Too bad that even if they did exist, they were likely malevolent beings, and there would be a price to pay for each wish. Still, he had to search. He had to learn. He had to know. He couldn't let the attitude of general pessimism he'd taken to over the past month rule him. He could be cautious, skeptical, but pessimistic? No, that would only serve as a hindrance.

Trevor had had enough things hinder him. A depressed, broken seer who had been more of a drain on money and energy than she had ever been worth. His numerous plots and ploys hadn't worked, and in the end, he had tried to kill her only to have her vanish. So now, she was a wildcard, perhaps alive, perhaps dead. He didn't know, but if SAVIOR or any other group had found her, she was working for the enemy. If anyone else had, she was in the insanity ward, most likely, for her wild stories. Then, of course, there was Winslow's existence, though he hadn't proven a threat thus far. He likely wouldn't. The borders were too secured. Besides, he had his son, and Winslow likely knew he had to tread carefully to stand any chance of getting him back (though, if he were smart, he'd realize his son was as good as gone).

Speaking of, Trevor had left Julian at home tonight with a new book of runes he had bought him the night before when he had met with Teague. He just didn't need a teenager to babysit in a place such as Dervish and Banges. One false move, and the boy would have to go to St. Mungo's for treatment. If that happened, who knew what would end up happening. After all, Winslow was likely keeping an eye out for his son anywhere he could, and Mungo's was a link to the muggle world. It had been too much trouble to relocate it with the frequent bombings and/or attacks in Diagon Alley that he had just left it there. He wished he hadn't now, but that was beside the point.

Without really realizing it, Trevor opened the door to Borgin and Banges. "Old" was the only way he could think to describe the smell that pervaded his senses. Well, now to see if the owner was a pile of crap or not.


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by: Jordan
#704
"What do you mean you 'don't sell it'?!" Quintos croaked in a harsh, somewhat-loud whisper.

Quntos had finally caved. Months of living as basically a hermit, even a wizarding one, would take its toll on anyone. He had become too stressed to foresee the future naturally, a skill which he desperately needed right now. He couldn't think of any other way to resolve the situation aside from coming out of hiding or possibly being discovered (which he was not about to do). Things were going to get even worse before they got better: that much he'd been able to foresee. He knew he couldn't be overtly involved with the wizarding world just yet. However, without frequent use of his gift, he couldn't plan for and adapt to anything that was to come. Thus he had only one option: force his abilities.

His family was littered throughout the ages with many gifted seers. They had carefully crafted the art of divination into an easily usable tool. However, this tool had it's limits: namely a limited access to prophetic potential. Yes, simple results and trends were easy to predict for those with the natural talent, but truly prophetic outcomes to complex and detailed situations were rare and hard to come by. Many seers were lucky to make a handful of these prophecies in a lifetime. A solution to this was desperately craved and in time one arrived. It was a dark secret passed on through the generations of his family: a potion that induced prophecy. It was known as Prophet's Poison.

It was a closely guarded secret that this potion existed, but even if it weren't, it would still probably be frowned upon or even a banned or controlled substance. This was due to the side effects of the potion. It was extraordinarily addictive and in most cases impossible to quit. Abuse of the substance often led to many bizarre magical side effects that seemed to differ from person to person. If the side effects didn't get you, eventually a dose of this potion would be the last. How many doses it took before it killed you also seemed to vary between people, but what was clear was that it took exceptionally fewer doses in those with less natural talent in the art. Many times, even, just one dose was enough to kill.

Quintos, however, knew he had more than enough of a gift to stomach a dose of poison. He had convinced himself that he could just use it once, get his bearings for the near future and perhaps create a more stable situation for him to live and adapt to the future in. That was all he would do however. He knew all too well of the perils of Prophet's Poison. His family was littered with those that had succumbed to it, both seers and non-seers alike. The seers became addicted to it and started using it as a crutch until it finally killed them, while the non-seers often died in one shot, trying to pretend they had the innate ability of their relatives. No, Quintos wasn't stupid enough to let that happen. However, he wasn't about to let such a powerful tool in his arsenal go to complete waste. If there ever was a time for his trump card, it was now.

Thus here he was at Borgin and Burkes, attempting to obtain some of the less common ingredients he would need for the potion. Before he'd gone into hiding, Quin had the foresight to keep tabs on these ingredients should he ever need them. He knew for a fact that this shop had exactly what he needed, but obviously he couldn't reveal that without giving away his disguise. Now, as Chester Mason, his slightly destitute appearance and lack of money up-front seemed to be betraying him. The owner didn't want to give him the time of day and it was making an already irritable Quintos more so.

"I know damned well you have some in the back and unless you want me to get the Imperium Guard involved I suggest you...!" Just then Quintos heard someone enter the shop and for all he knew it could have been the Imperium Guard. He quickly shut up and peered around to see who it was just in case. He didn't need his bluff actually called. The last thing he needed was Imperium Guard involved in this dispute.
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by: Trevor Williams
#705
Alright, old and...tense, then.

It seemed Trevor had caught the shop worker and a patron at a bit of an inopportune moment. Honor among thieves or whatever the equivalent was here at Borgin and Burkes seemed to have gone by the wayside over the years since the regime had begun. It had been, unfortunately, one of the necessary steps to take to gain trust, but it wasn't as though he had let down the owner with his takeover. He had ascertained a way for his business to remain relatively unimpeded and ensure an increase in profits.

Of course, now that Trevor realized there was another customer, things became complicated. Borgin and Burkes was not exactly a place one simply walked into and browsed if the person was over thirty or so. Borgin and Burkes was the place you went to with a purpose and usually not one you wanted others to find you at. So, this was awkward.

Trevor gave a blank-eyed, naive, friendly sort of stare with a slight hint of a smile and rose a hand awkwardly in a wave before stiffly turning and beginning to act like he was browsing. He even made as though to touch something a few times but pulled back. It may be awkward but it was definitely the opposite of what he would do, and he didn't quite have the authority to do what he would normally do without the benefits his title had given him. Of course, if he still had his title, he wouldn't be here during operating hours.

Trevor sighed with purposeful volume and boredness after some time had passed and he had "browsed" a decent portion of the small, crowded store space. "Any idea when you folks will be done?" he inquired as he came to place himself beside the brown-haired man and leaned on his forearms against the counter as though preparing for a casual conversation.
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by: Jordan
#852
"Oh, we're done here..." The shopkeeper replied, attempting to dismiss Quintos once and for all.

"Like hell we are!" Quintos barked, completely ignoring the man who came into the shop whom had turned out to be just some nobody. This situation was not in his favor whatsoever, that much was obvious. Really there was little to nothing that Quin could do without having the money up front. If he didn't calm himself and think of a rational solution to the problem, the Imperium Guard likely would get involved which was the last thing he needed. The real kicker was that Quintos did have the money, but it wasn't as though he could go waltzing up to Gringotts and get it. He'd only been able to withdraw a small portion of his wealth before going into hiding so as not to tip anyone off to his plans. Only now did he realize how much this was hampering everything.

If he was going to think of something, he'd better do it now he told himself. Calming himself, he decided to use the one last trick he had up his sleeve. "Look... I can assure you I have the money. Until I can get it however, I ask that you accept this as a temporary payment and promise that the money is coming." He reached into his cloak and pulled out a gold pendant which he sat on the table before the shopkeeper. It was one of many family heirlooms Quintos had come to acquire. His family crest gleamed up at them while the letters PRYNNE spelling out the family name glinted in the light. "It's worth at least twice as much as the ingredients and should more than cover me for now." Quintos could stand to part with the trinket until then. He'd have to figure out some way to wire money out of his account until then.
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by: Trevor Williams
#891
Well, wasn't this lovely? Trevor was over this argument already, and he had no idea how long it could or would take. Whatever it was, the man wanted badly with such fervor it was almost as though he believed he needed whatever this was. In fact, he was willing to donate a fairly heirloom from the looks of it. "Prynne," it read. Prynne, Prynne... The name sounded familiar for one reason or another. It was sometimes hard to distinguish where he had first heard a name these days, even if he knew why the family name was familiar. They were known for being seers from what he recalled, though if he had learned that from Voldemort's lust for one such gifted member back in the nineties or if it was because of intel he had received, Trevor couldn't remember.

Perhaps his luck was about to change. A man from a family known for having the gift of the third eye was much more useful than any creature that may or may not exist. Didn't mean he wouldn't still buy the lamp. After all, the man could be some common pickpocket junkie, even if he didn't look it.

"Keep the heirloom," Trevor said before digging out some money and putting it on the table. "That should more than cover whatever this man is buying," he said, looking from Prynne to the shopkeeper.

((Ending it here for sake of allowing a reaction, but Trevor will intercept the goods before Quintos can get it.))
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by: Quintos Prynne
#1963
((Ok then, couple of things: I know I'm digging up a thread that is over a year old, so if you want to retcon it out of existence because of that, I'd obviously understand. It was literally about the only place I had to post and technically not archived yet lol. Also, I know Quintos hasn't been accepted yet (though technically his old sheet is in the accepted sheets; I updated/finished everything in his new one), but I figured since I didn't change anything, there wouldn't be an issue. And FINALLY (sorry for the long comment lol) I hope it's ok that I remade him at all since it pushes over the Seer limit. Hopefully he can just be grandfathered in as one, but if not I will delete him then))


Quintos, or rather "Chester Mason", stared incredulously at the man who just laid down the remaining money to pay for the supplies. "Excuse me," he croaked, "I don't know what you think you are doing but I am certainly more than capable of... Hey!" The shopkeeper, obviously wanting the argumentative old codger out of his shop, had quickly scooped up the money and gone into the back of the shop to get the ingredients. Quintos called after him, "Now wait just a moment now!" but it was obviously too late. He then turned his attention back to the man and began eyeing him up. If he wasn't so flustered about the situation and stressed in general, maybe he could have used some of his usual divination techniques to try and discern who this person was.

As it was, however, he couldn't think to do anything. There was almost a buzzing sort of sound in his head, distracting him from thinking. Hell, his mind was so flustered he didn't even think to use simple observation to gain insight into the man. He just stood there staring, his mind churning but ultimately producing nothing. Finally he spoke out. "Listen, I don't know what you want from me, but I can assure you that I have nothing to give." He pocketed the heirloom now that it was no longer necessary. "Obviously you've witnessed that I don't have much money on me at the present, so what exactly do you want?"

Obviously he wanted something. He had to. The thing Quintos couldn't quite place his finger on was what that could possibly be? What did this man see in him, disguised as Chester Mason, that could possibly be of any value to him? "And don't play me for a fool. Nobody does anything for anybody without wanting something in return. Especially in these parts." Knockturn Alley patrons weren't exactly known for their altruism after all. Just then the shopkeep returned with the potion ingredients in toe. Quintos' initial thoughts were to simply reach out and take them, perhaps then even just leave the man high and dry. The man, no doubt realizing this, reacted much faster and beat him to the supplies.

Quintos was fuming about this now, and the shopkeeper had already demonstrated he wasn't about to be any help in the matter. He needed those ingredients though. Biting his tongue and trying to remain cool, all Quintos could come up with was "Well?", obviously indicating that he was somewhat annoyed and angry for seeing this whole thing coming but unable to stop it.
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by: Trevor Williams
#1987
Trevor smirked as he snatched the potion ingredients. He didn't know what they were or what they were for, but if they were so bloody important, it was the one way to gain an advantage over the Prynne man. He pocketed the ingredients after taking a moment to glance at them. At Prynne's prompting, Trevor quirked a brow. "All in good time," he said to Prynne. To the shopkeeper, he turned and handed over another pile of money. "The lamp. Now."

With a noticeably brighter, wider eyes and a bounce to his step, the shopkeeper swept up the money and took it to the back with him as he went to retrieve the lamp. He was back in a flash. While at first he seemed to want to set it in front of Trevor, he thought better of it when Trevor extended his hand and snatched it from him. Trevor pocketed that as well. Magically expanded pockets were a nice touch he'd taken time to add so he didn't have to wander about with an old brass lamp while leaving Diagon Alley. If anything would attract attention, that would, and his whole persona was created to avoid attracting anyone's attention.

"Come with me," Trevor told the Prynne then and turned to leave.
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by: Quintos Prynne
#1990
This was bad. Extraordinarily bad. Quintos glared furiously at the man who knew full too well that he had him at his mercy. Those ingredients were rare and this was the only shop that sold them (illegally for one or two of them, Quin was sure) in the country. He hadn't left the country to hide, why the hell would he leave it just for ingredients? So he was in a predicament: get the ingredients and make a potion he only wanted as a last resort or continue to suffer in poverty. He needed visions, desperately. Gah, this was awful.

He stared at the man as he obtained some sort of lamp (Merlin knows what that was), and beckoned him to follow. As he turned around to leave, Quintos attempted to inconspicuously put his hand into his pocket and slowly began drawing his wand. He knew what had to be done. He just hoped Chester Mason's reflexes were still good, but he internally knew they weren't. He would just have to get the man by surprise, stun him, and take back the goods. Right in the back, the second they were out the door.

Hopefully there would be nobody in the street to witness what he planned. He didn't need to try and assume a new identity as unprepared as he was if he got into trouble. If it weren't for the shopkeep he'd have just done it in here and gotten it over with. He may have been too busy counting his gold to notice Quintos drawing his wand, but he certainly would notice something as obvious as a blatant assault. Quintos gripped his wand tightly, now fully drawn, as he followed the man out the door. One good stunning curse is all it would take. He prepared himself as he stepped into the crisp February air. He had this, right?
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by: Trevor Williams
#2069
((Sorry for the delay! Between Trevor muse's brief violent obsessions and practice, it's been hard to get him to do what I need him to.))

Trevor stopped to hold the door open, not moving until the man moved in front of him. He may have spent years away from the life Voldemort had prepared him for, but he knew one thing: never turn your back longer than you had to. He also knew this man wanted whatever it was he had taken badly enough he was agitated and unpredictable. His interaction with the shopkeeper had told Trevor that much. So, no, there was no way he would let the man follow him. That took away any control and dominance he had established over the situation, and Trevor would not give that up so easily.

"When you get to the archway, we're going to make a right onto Diagon Alley," Trevor stated. His voice was calm yet held an edge that he hoped communicated to the man that funny business would not be wise. "We're just two acquaintances on a walk, and no one will believe otherwise," he said as he clapped a hand on the man's back. "We have much to discuss, Prynne, and you would be wise in more ways than the obvious not to do anything to force my hand." And indeed he was. Trevor was more than willing to compensate the man for his services should he be a willing participant, but he was certainly not against forcing his participation if it came to it. At present, there was nothing to hold him back.

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