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Post by Seth Silver on Nov 27, 2006 16:24:07 GMT -5
Snape raised an eyebrow, but, for once, did not wear his trademark sneer. Beneath the frozen expression on his face he was curious. Something was happening between Mireault and Silver. Severus Snape was not a stupid man, nor did he stand out much in a crowd. He knew how to make himself unnoticeable. It was useful, of course, when one was gathering important information, but it also meant that Snape picked up bits of gossip here and there that would have rendered him invaluable to the bored, Pureblood trophy wives of his Death Eater companions.
'I believe you just did - however, I think I can stomach one more,' he drawled, watching Silver out of the corner of his eye. He didn't trust the boy not to try something the moment he thought he wasn't being watched.
But, Seth had no intention of trying anything that would anger Snape. Indeed, he was far more interested in what Oione had to say. She had that look on her face - the one that meant she was up to something. He had sneaked around with Oione enough in his lifetime to know when she was trying to get information from someone else. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, Snape was probably not very likely to tell her much of anything. This comforted Seth, who had begun to wonder just why Oione was looking so curious of a sudden. If she pried any deeper into winter holiday ....
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Post by Oione Mireault on Nov 27, 2006 16:45:25 GMT -5
Severus Snape's face did not differ much from the lake's surface when it froze over but it was enough for Oione to know that somewhere deep down she got him interested, which was all in all an achievement.
"I am certain it will not cause an indigestion to you, sir" she replied, looking mildly amused by his infamous sarcasm and with a small smirk on her lips. It was clear to Oione that she could not ask any questions about the time of the Knights' gathering because Snape could not answer such question for multiple reasons. More over, Oione decided that she did not need Snape confriming her suspicions any further since the girl wanted to postpone the moment she was going to be at war with Seth Silver again, they fought enough for the past few months. For now she concluded another bothersome question would be less harmful. "Do you know anything about Richard Wilkes, sir?" she asked in a tone of someone who needed this information urgently due to writing an essay. Her parents pretended the man did not exist and Oione would not even dare to write to Augustus Rookwood whereas the Lestranges' reply hadn't arrived yet. The girl was well aware of how much information Snape had. He wasn't the Dark Lord's most skillful spy for nothing and he had to be an complete idiot to belittle the value of a gossip, that after all traveled with the speed of light.
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Post by Seth Silver on Nov 27, 2006 17:03:32 GMT -5
Snape seemed to freeze for a moment, his eyes glued to the space between Oione and Seth. He knew they must be up to something. Oione Mireault rarely showed an interest in anything Severus Snape had to say unless she was fishing for information, and Silver ... Silver was an idiot no matter what he did.
Choosing his words carefully, he articulated, 'Richard Wilkes? He was the brother of Tom Wilkes, younger.'
It was now that Snape debated how far he ought to take this. He could, of course, dismiss the questions eith a scowl and a wave of his hand, but something held him back. He glanced at Mireault, and then Silver. The boy in the process of picking up a chair as slowly as humanly possible, barely hiding the fact that he was eavesdropping. Why not tell them? It was not as if the Mireault family had ever done much for Severus Snape, and if this was information they were trying to hide, as he very much suspected it was....
Snape had known Augustus Rookwood II since the man had been a boy. He had taught Rookwood, who was a few years older than Harry Potter when his father, Augustus Sr, had been killed. He knew more about Augustus's marriage than the man himself, and ithat fact alone was enough to make Augustus wary of the man who had taught him potions.
'Richard Wilkes is ... was a Death Eater. He was disowned by his family nearly sixteen years ago and has since kept a very low profile. I believe he resides in France at the moment, and has made quite a fortune in the broomstick industry. Why do you ask?'
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Post by Oione Mireault on Nov 27, 2006 17:31:01 GMT -5
It was clear that Snape was not going to be overly generous with information, much like Oione he prefered to absorb them instead of giving them away. "I already know that, sir" she answered shortly, but with the same careful suavity, seemingly relaxed as she placed a jar of fruit-bat wings beside marinated Cornish pixies. Showing just how much exactly she was hungry for anything Snape might know would spoil everything. Since Seth stubbornly refused to ask any questions about the man who in fact financially supported him over his school years out of 'good will' (in which Oione did not believe) she concluded that it was her duty to ask them for him. Besides the girl was the personification of the proverbial cat that curiousity killed....with eight lives left. Snape could to what he wanted with them, though subconsciously she suspected he would answer them even if vaguely. The man had never been warmly welcomed in the Mireault household and if they wanted to keep something hidden from their daughter Snape would probably be glad to stain their plans. His calculating gaze was enough to gave Oione hope.
'Richard Wilkes ... was a Death Eater. He was disowned by his family nearly sixteen years ago and has since kept a very low profile. I believe he resides in France at the moment, and has made quite a fortune in the broomstick industry. Why do you ask?' If Snape had been less greasy, annoying and arrogant Oione would probably be kissing the soil he walked on. It fit, everything fit so amazingly well in the story Oione constructed in her mind. Sixteen years. "Was curious" she muttered carelessly, shrugging. "I was told he died long ago. Why was he disowned, sir?"
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Post by Seth Silver on Nov 27, 2006 17:44:10 GMT -5
Seth's ears perked up at the mention of a broomstick industry, but he remained passive, for once. Silence would be better now, he decided. After all, one could not listen and speak at the same time.
And this, Snape thought, was where it got tricky. When he spoke, the words were closely guarded, clipped, even.
'I believe there was a matter over his carelessness with the family honour, or something similar.'
In truth, Snape could not be entirely certain why Wilkes had been disowned, but he had many shrewd guesses that would mostly likely prove themselves true in due time. He had listened when others gossiped, and he knew more than most others would be willing to admit to about Richard Wilkes, or any gossip at all, really.
'Richard Wilkes followed his brother into becoming a Death Eater, got himself involved with ... some questionable persons, and was cut off from his family entirely. He no longer contacts anyone he once knew. In fact ....'
Snape licked his lips, watching Silver out of the corner of his eye. He knew that he had gotten himself in far enough and would not be able to turn back, but it definitely did not make the decision to say what he was about to any less difficult.
'He has a family now. He married a French woman, to my knowledge, and has two sons. One is fourteen, I believe, and the other eight. Are you quite satisfied now?'
To the side, Seth lowered the chair he had been stacking, setting it on the ground and sitting atop it. Two sons? Since when did Wilkes have a family? Why hadn't Tom told him any of this? Not that it mattered, of course, but it was a bit queer.
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Post by Oione Mireault on Nov 27, 2006 18:01:20 GMT -5
Mentally, Oione had been making cartwheels of glee with every single word Snape carefull spoke. In fact she wished Seth would just go to the bathrooms or something so that she could be more straight forward with Snape. Truth to be told their potion master did not need to tell anything more as Oione already worked things out by herself, the way Snape watched Seth out of the corner of his black eye being the ultimate confirmation. One thing was for sure, she was going to write to Amerelia Rookwood the second she got out of this dungeon. "How come he was a dishonour to his family?" Oione asked in a voice of naive curiousity. Questionable persons, it was enough to put her imagination down to work . "He became a Death Eater just like his brother, which the Wilkes' family should value him for. Did he turn out to be a blood traitor?" Straying from the original path would be a sign for Snape to let his guards down somewhat, albeit Oione feared that such an experienced Death Eater like Snape could see right through her pretending. She was about to ask if he had family but it turned out that Snape was already going to reply on that unasked question.
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Post by Seth Silver on Nov 27, 2006 22:28:55 GMT -5
Slumped and tired, Seth stacked his last chair, which gave Snape the perfect moment to end this little Q&A. Relief washed over him, though he kept his face a stony mask of indifference, and he called Seth to his desk. When the boy shuffled forward, haughty and defiant, Snape stood, cleared his throat, and motioned for Oione to finish whatever she had left.
'Sor?' Seth rubbed his eyes, thinking to himself that he would have to find some Essence of Murtlap for the knuckles.
Snape pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, deep in thought. 'You may leave for the night, Silver. I have no further use of you.'
Gladly taking the dismissal, Seth stumbled to the door and left. He didn't even bother to think of waiting for Oione. She knew where the common room was, didn't she?
'Mireault.' Clearing his throat once more, Snape organized the papers into a single, tidy stack and set them on the corner of his desk.
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Post by Oione Mireault on Nov 28, 2006 5:45:42 GMT -5
"Sir, you haven't answered my question" Oione reminded him in the most innocent and 'no-I'm-not-up-to-anything' voice she could muster at the moment. "Surely, you are allowed to speak about ex-Death Eaters and from what you said I'm under conclusion he is not one anymore" she added with exaggerated caution and humbleness, returning to her jars and trying to ignore the fact that internally she was humming with satisfaction.
The wife and children complicated things a little but Oione was sure she could think of something. Truth to be told that something was already unfolding in her mind. Taking the enormous glass container with powdered manticore's teeth she put it carefully back on its rightful place, having to stand on her tiptoes to do so.
Upon Seth's dismissal Oione heaved a sigh of relief...and there was a small pang of guilt. She felt bad whenever she had to hide something from him, especially if it so obviously involved him. However, Oione needed to be 199 per cent certain in order to mention it to him, even if vaguely. She had no idea how the boy would react and whether they weren't in for a disappointment. No living being could compare with an idealised mental image of a supposedly dead person, after all. Oione's grandmother for example had been as mad as a hatter but when she died nobody even dared to mumble 'crazy' when speaking about her. The girl liked to think that it was slightly similar with Seth. Well, maybe less than slightly, nevertheless it was also a form of escapism.
Since neither Amerelia nor Augustus refused to pay him any attention (minus the times when they needed to punish him) and thinking about his real father was a sort of consolation to Seth and most importantly it couldn't hurt him. Oione Mireault was no psychiatrist (she was much closer to psychotic, actually) but she suspected she hadn't strayed too much from the right point. The reply she received from home didn't come as a surprise, even though it was addressed to her father Oione could tell it was her mother's handwriting. Junona Mireault and and Amerelia Rookwood weren't the best of friends for nothing.
'Mireault.' "Yes, sir?"
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Post by Seth Silver on Nov 28, 2006 6:59:22 GMT -5
Snape glared, but he knew it would have little effect in trying to discourage the girl from her questions. Oione Mireault never gave up easily.
'Ms Mireault,' he began silkily, 'you've got something up your sleeve, haven't you? It is not often I have a student, a Slytherin student, coming to my classroom and asking about forgotten ex-Death Eaters. Do you quite understand, or need I point out that Mr Silver is no doubt waiting for you just beyond the door?'
Seth, of course, had gone to the common room, but even that was unusual behaviour for him, as he liked to complain after the detention to Oione, and they always waited if another was made to stay longer.
In the common room, he lounged n his favourite armchair, running his fingers along the leather armrest thoughtfully. Oione certainly was in an odd mood. What made her so curious about Wilkes? Well, it was curious that he had a family, for Seth had been told quite the opposite, in fact. Lonely bachelor - that was how Tom Wilkes referred to his brother. A lonely bachelor with more money than he knew what to do with. And, for a while, it was all right being the man's charity case. Hadn't he been helped by Richard Wilkes practically all his life without ever knowing it? But Wilkes was married, and had been for ages by the sound of it. And two sons! What was he doing sending broomsticks and nice shirts to a boy he had only met once?
'I suspect you remind him of someone,' Tom had said cryptically, before changing the subject to next year's World Cup.
Seth needed Oione for these things. He was too lazy to think very hard about things such as these, as they didn't seem to endanger him in any way, but were mere curiosities.
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Post by Oione Mireault on Nov 28, 2006 17:05:11 GMT -5
Oione stared back innocently, both of her elegant eyebrows raised in what looked like genuine surprise, holding Snape's glare firmly, even though it was enough to make clumsy or less gifted in potions student drop dead on the spot or wish they had never been born, however Oione did not belong to this group. There were a few frustrating facts about her, namely when she decided upon something there was no turning back and she never gave up and no death glares could discourage her from getting what she wanted. However, when the situation got too risky for her to handle the girl was likely to withdraw like a sophisticated hunter in order to leap on her future prey when they least expected it. That was why she had been sorted into Slytherin in the first place.
"Oh, professor I am truly wounded. How could you possibly suspect someone like me of having anything up my sleeve?" Oione answered just as silkily "I also beg to differ, sir. I wasn't the one who came to your classroom out of my own free will, I was here to serve my detention" with that she put the last jar back on its place. Oione wasn't foolish enough to pry any further tonight, she was well aware that the thin ice she was walking on cracked with each frosty look of Snape's. She already gained more information than she expected to. This actually made her look forward to another detention, even though it might have sounded highly masochistic.
"Have a good night, sir" Oione twittered like an ecstatic canary and left. Too adrenaline-driven to actually ponder why Seth hadn't waited for her especially since he had much to complain after experiencing their potions teacher's methods once again Oione practically danced into the Slytherin Common Room, burst into the girls' dormitories and burst out of it, loaded with parchment, quills, Mireault crest-stamp that she used for sealing letter and a small round jar with the remains of Essence of Murtlap (since they used almost all of it after a particularly rich in injuries duel just before the summer holidays). "Here" she said softly, placing it before him and hoping that she didn't sound too concerned with Seth's well-being. "Bandaging them for the night will help to heal it" she suggested, taking her favourite armchair beside the carved oak table and lighting the fireplace with a flick of her wand.
Not paying Seth any further attention, due to the fact that she would have to look him in the eye (and this would be just plainly uncomfortable in the current state of things) Oione arranged her inkwell and quills neatly and choosing the best quality piece of parchment she began her letter. From what Seth had told her in the Hospital Wing Richard Wilkes seemed to be an eccentric, lone business man who was so rich he did not know what else to do with his wealth therefore he financially supported angry teenage boys from Limerick that were mistreated by their parents.
A story with too much sugar in it, but if Tom would be convincing enough Oione might even considered buying it. However, not after what Snape had told her. Wilkes having a family made some things painfully clear to Oione, but at the same time wife and kids made the whole case dangerously delicate, it needed extra-subtlety and that was why the girl did not want to involve Seth (whose bluntness was a legend in the school) at this point. In fact she decided that she would not mention the boy in her letter at all, like a good tactic she needed to thoroughly examine the territory before actually making any bolder moves.
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Post by Seth Silver on Nov 28, 2006 17:25:54 GMT -5
Grunting his thanks, Seth bandaged his fingers in Murtlap and sighed as the cuts on his knuckles began to cool, the stinging eased to a mere nuisance. He watched Oione for a bit, content to delve into his own mind and forego a conversation. This was a time for peace and quiet, for thinking, odd as that might seem. But it was hard to think when Oione was looking so concentrated in what she was doing, rustling parchment and being stupid about which quill to use. He didn't have the luxury of choosing from fifty quills. Seth owned a grand total of two quills, both borrowed at some time from Oione with no intention of returning them, and one was snapped in half, so he supposed that really only made it a total of one quill.
'Who yeer writin' to?'
Curiosity brought Seth's voice an octive higher than usual, and, for a brief moment, he sounded very much as he had when he was an incorrigable six year-old. He had been more naturally curious about things then. Everything was a question, right until age ten. Why are Muggles bad, mam?, or Am I a big man like 'Goost'oos, yet?. And then, when everyone grew tired of his endless questions, the boy discovered his ability to ask them in French. He asked the Muggles in town whether they really had scaly skin at night, as Augustus said they did. He asked Oione questions, and her mother, and made table conversation rather awkward at his mother's dinner parties by asking the Mireaults a myriad questions ranging from childbirth to blood purity.
'Yeer writin' to yeer mam, are ye?'
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Post by Oione Mireault on Nov 29, 2006 17:02:26 GMT -5
If somebody had run nito the chamber yelling that the whole castle was on fire at the top of his lungs Oione would have hardly noticed. If one of the walls (or all of them) suddenly crumblef down she wouldn't have noticed either. Writing with her best quill and keeping her caligraphy on the highest level Oione was so lost in her letters and thoughts rushing with speed of a infuriated river destroying everything on its way that she was only distantly aware of Seth's existance. At first the girl wanted to write in French, as a promising Quidditch player that needed an advice on which broom would be the best and possibly a meeting but as she recalled Snape's words Oione decided against it. He said Richard Wilkes had made a fortune, therefore he would have other people to take care of young Quidditch stars that hadn't even graduated from school yet. Instead Oione chose to add a few years making herself a 17 year-old (as a result she was of age) and a N.E.W.T student, as a soon-to-be-alumni she needed advice upon her future career and seriously considered the broomstick industry. Brushing away the hari from her eyes Oione continued on, satisfied with each sentence. She wrote that his success was well-known over the Isles and as a French refugee she admired him even more and would like to work for him after graduation and maybe a part-time post would help her gain experience. But, the most important part was that Oione asked for an appointment to discuss the matter face to face. Obviously if they met her lying would painfully surface, but Oione would think of something when the time came.
Oione blinked, looking up from her letter and half-expecting to see a six-year-old Seth in the armchair before her instead of his teen version. When they were children Seth was a real champion in making Amerelia's dinner parties beyond awkward, Oione's mother would go scarlet while her father covered his mouth trying to turn chucking into a fit of coughing. "Huh?" she quirked one eye-brow at him, but realised there weren't many questions to ask to a person writing furiously a piece of correspondence. "I'm writing to Cecil Marzel so we can elope without you spoiling our wedding" she added sardonically.
And not really waiting for an answer returned to her sribbling ending it with a dot of triumph. She was about to put her signature but hesitated. Mireaults were very famous (though it was rather an ill sort of fame) in France, this could cause second thoughts and you could never know what Tom Wilkes told his brother. She needed a half-bloodish name.
"'Yeer writin' to yeer mam, are ye?' "No, not exactly" Oione's frown turned into a pout, not due to Seth's question however, but to her thoughts.
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Post by Seth Silver on Nov 29, 2006 17:58:34 GMT -5
'Oh.'
seth knew that to question further would cause some friction in the relatively friedly atmosphere that he had achieved, and he didn't want to spoil a potentially peaceful night with unneeded questions. Mireaults were famous for their tempers, or, Oione was.
He sat back in his chair, biting his lips and playing games with bits of parchment. This was far from boring, he assured himself. In fact, this was the most fun he had had in ages. The most. Definitely. Seth glanced up through a curtain of curly hair, eyebrows raised, lips poised to ask another question. He stopped himself just in time. Oione was busy. Oione did not need to be bothered by the likes of him. He could see the tension in her fist as she furiously scribbled, quill flying across the parchment with the speed of light. A person could make enough money to supply a small country if broomsticks could be designed to go the speed at which Oione was writing. He scratched his nose. Once. Twice. Again. He picked at the table and tried to carve his initials into the polished wood with a quill sharpener, but gave up when the curves in the "s" became too difficult. Usually, Seth had a bit more control. Salazar only knew how many times his mother had slapped him for failing to stay still.
Tonight was different. Seth wanted answers. He wanted to know what Oione was writing, who she was writing to, why the hell she was asking Severus Snape about Richard Wilkes.
And then it struck him.
She must be writing to Snape! A secret letter, so Seth could never find out what sort of maginificent secrets Snape had to tell. Of course, it was the simplest thing. He felt betrayed by her lack of trust, for such was the way Seth viewed the matter. She obviously didn't think he could keep a secret. What sort of a friend thought like that? He could keep a secret. And what right did Oione have to know anything about Richard Wilkes? She hadn't even known he existed until Seth had told her about him in the hospital wing. How could she keep something like this from him? It was betrayal at the highest level.
He cleared his throat.
'Jude Milton thinks he's in love with you,' announced Seth, pursing his lips in obvious disapproval. 'You know - that annoying little Mudblood fourth year?'
He didn't know quite how Milton came into the conversation, but it was a way that Seth was certain to distract Oione from her letter-writing. She wasn't going to get any bloody letters finished with him around.
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Post by Oione Mireault on Nov 30, 2006 7:05:40 GMT -5
Dropping her quill for a brienf moment Oione gave a groan of frustration, she closed her eyes for a second and massaged her temples. Thinking really could hurt on occassion like this one, her thoughts taking a few different tours and threatening to collide, not to mention she could actually hear her heart beating, the air from her lungs seemed to have gone away but them she realised she forgot to breathe. How come Wilkes was allowed to leave his Death Eater past? There was no such thing like an ex-Death Eater as far as Oione reckoned, unless of course it had been a very early stadium and he had no valuable information yet and therefore was let go. That would make sense, Oione concluded. However, this wasn't the most bothersome matter...Did his wife know about her husband's past? And finally was Richard Wilkes really the person Oione wanted to believe he was? She couldn't just appear there, dragging Seth along. That was why the girl decided to leave him out of this for the time being, she couldn't just give him hope of any sort and then tear it to pieces.
"Oh, sweet. I always thought he was rather adorable" Oione replied with an air of someone who was mildly flummoxed by a tap-dancing Mimbulus Mimbledonia. In fact at the moment she couldn't even recall how Jude Milton looked like, much less his house, year or blood status. Pulling her disobedient hair, that kept coming back ot her eyes, into a beyond messy bun Oione, without further ado added a few more sentences looking quite pleased with herself. "How did you work that one out, anyway? I thought he was afraid of me" Not that she really remembered or cared, but she asked for the sake of holding up a conversation.
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Post by Seth Silver on Nov 30, 2006 7:19:29 GMT -5
'Well,' Seth drawled, eyes trained to the tabletop, 'He's in all of yeer classes, and sees ye in the common room, and sits at the same table as ye at all the meals, and I'm in all of yeer classes, and see ye in the common room, and sit next to ye at meals, and he can't keep his fecking eyes of ye. Filthy little Mudblood - actually came up and asked me "if ye'd moind halpin' 'em wi' his homewark!" I told him ice lollies'll be tapdancin' in hell the day ye help his filthy little self with his homewark. I mean, d'ye hear his feckin' name? Jude Milton. 'Tis obvious his fadder's a Moogle, to have name sooch as that. Sounds loik a bloody feckin' garl. Jude Milton...'
Seth kept up his rant for as long as the conversation allowed, but they soon lulled back into silence. He fumed silently over Oione's mistrust in him - her best mate - and attempted once more to scratch his name into the table, but with little avail. Of course, Mater had to give a name with fecking two "s"s, and how was he supposed carve an "s" into anything? There wasn't a straight line there!
'So,' he said quickly, 'who is it yeer writin' to, really? 'Tisn't Marzel or that shite.'
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