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Post by sully on Dec 30, 2011 14:46:33 GMT -5
 It was snowing outside and Sully looked up to the sky as he stood waiting for the crowd to die down a bit. There were more Muggles out and about around this time of year and Sully had to be careful who saw him entering a "shabby" pub. Sure he could just Apparate into Diagon Alley, but last time he did that, he had caused a fight because he knocked down someone's grandmother. Sully wasn't taking any chances with that same situation again. Having a bruised eye had to be the worst. Of course, a chipped tooth or lost teeth sounded just as brutal as not being able to see out of an eye because a fist punched the daylights out of it. Shuddering at the thought, Sully wasn't sure how he would ever truly defend himself when it came down to the moment of truth of a full out war. Sully decided that nobody would really care if someone saw him enter a beat up building. If anything, they would just think he was crazy and leave it at that. Besides, Muggles were painfully obvious and could easily be shooed out of the Leaky Cauldron. Sully had never seen such an event before, but he probably find it funny if a Muggle did happen to walk into a pub with a bunch of witches and wizards.
Sully walked in without greeting anyone since he didn't see a familiar face and made his way to the door that would lead to the brick wall that opened for wizards and witches only. Tapping the correct bricks with his wand, the bricks began to assemble themselves to create a towering entrance. Storing his wand back into his sleeve, Sully couldn't help but love winter at this time of year in this moment in history. A fight could bright out at any moment and a wand up the sleeve was much easier to access than attached to his leg. He never trusted his pockets since he always feared he might break it in half one day. He was sure he could charm his pockets so on the outside they looked like normal pockets, but on the inside it was big enough for his wand to fit in. The only thing about that was if he accidentally dropped his money into that pocket, then he'd look a bit ridiculous trying to dig for his money at the bottom of his eleven inch deep pocket. His arm would be elbow deep in pocket! A sleeve would have to do since nobody would see the wand with his winter coat on and a long sleeves on.
He passed by all the familiar shoppes he once shopped in when he was a student at Hogwarts and almost went into the Ice Cream Parlor to see if the same woman ran the quaint shoppe. He decided against it and continued to walk across the brick road to Gringotts. He needed to get some money and try to keep as much of it with him since he wasn't sure if he was a target from the Ministry or not ever since "resigning". He had claimed he was out traveling the world, but if anyone stopped him, he could just say that he needed some more money while he spent time in his ancestors homeland: Australia. His father's side was from Australia, but his great-grandparents moved to England to give Sully's grandfather a better education. He wasn't considered "old blood" like the Blacks were or the Lestranges, but that meant that Sully didn't have to travel too far down into Gringotts to retrieve his money. People who wanted vaults in the depths of Gingotts were paranoids. Minister Delacroix hasn't corrupted the bank yet and he didn't see control of the bank in the Minister's plans so far. It seemed he was too focused on capturing half-breeds and people of creature blood. It all sounded rubbish to Sully.
After grabbing a few handful of galleons, Sully was back in Diagon Alley and wasn't sure where to go next. Ice cream in the middle of winter was a bit thick for someone since winter was normally paired with warm drinks. The snow fell in Sully's hair and he brushed of the snowflakes he was collecting. Standing off to the side, Sully began to just watch the people. It was always fun just seeing how people acted around other people. He was also hoping he might come across a snatcher one of these days, but at the same time, he just wanted write a letter to someone to tell them his thoughts. But that's why you joined the Order you daft monkey. Sully told himself. He would really have to talk with someone soon to see what they were doing about this so far.
Speaking of the Order and Ministry, Sully had heard that one of his colleagues at the Ministry had quit and came to Hogwarts. He had been at the Three Broomsticks one day when a student was talking about a Professor Arturius. Sully only knew of one Arturius and that was Geoffrey Arturius of the Ministry as a hit man. Sully just considered him an Auror, but apparently it wasn't exactly the same thing as Geoffrey explained to him from what seemed like many years ago. He supposed he should ask Sky about it since she worked as a Professor there as well and see if a certain Geoffrey Arturius was currently teaching there. If so, he would have to send an owl to the old chap.
tag; geoffrey arturius
words; 926
muse; rumor has it by adele
notes; it's a random place i know,
but i really didn't want to be in
the three broomsticks anymore lol
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Post by jeff on Jan 3, 2012 0:15:15 GMT -5
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[/div][/td] [td] [/style] [/td] [td][style=width: 407px; height: 30px; background-color: #1f3445; margin-right: -2px; padding: 20px][style=font-family: Yanone Kaffeesatz; color: fff; letter-spacing: -2px; line-height:100%; font-size: 35px;]KEEP ON MOVING AND HIT SNOOZE[/div][/style] [style=width:400; height:300; background-image:url(http://i44.tinypic.com/fvenau.png); border: solid 2px #1f3445;] "My hair is turning gray..." he squinted into the mirror, hand pulling at random collections of his hair. A rare moment indeed, for a man of such determination to be taking an interest in trivial matters. In this case, his hair was the subject of his attention. It was true that he was getting older. And as was his age, his stress was rising, the political tension mounting with the increased aggression against half-breeds. It seems the brunt of his stress was showing in his hair, instead of other places. Of that, he was thankful for he knew a many few students whose grades were taking the largest beating as they played the angles of their survival. He thought to his past, his hair less gray, though beginning to initiate the process of losing its pigmentation. His mind wandered to the times where he wandered dark passes in search of wizards equally as dark. Now, a professor of Hogwarts, life was different, though it was becoming more and more impossible to say it was any different than that of his previous employment, where with dark wizards infiltrating even the most secure of bastions.
He took in a deep breath before he shrugged at the image in the mirror, images of dark forests and palaces in lands abroad cast from his mind with the motion. His mind quickly found its way back upon his work, as it often did, and he thought to the grading of papers and the consideration of his teachings come the students' return from the winter break. Funny how it was still called a break, being as a fair bit of the students were forced to imprisonment in the castle, a return to their estates out of the question as they were in the eye of the minister, Delacroix. Quite the man, that one. Seeing his rise from the start, Geoffrey took quick note and cautioned himself near the man, his caution climaxing in his retreat to the castle within the very hour of hearing news of his consummated assumption of the mantle of the highest wizarding office in the land. To the castle, he repaired himself, within the walls of such a place which always seemed to be the last place infiltrated by corruption and malice. He was silent as to his cause, and to the day, remains so. No man knows why Arturius left his life as a hit wizard, a job he gained considerable note within. Why he chose such a drastically different career path, from fighting the dark arts and enemies of the state to the instruction of those not yet deemed fit by the law to practice their gifts absent the Trace. He remained, no less, sitting down in a padded chair behind his desk, his hand reaching to a scrap of parchment, the ink formed on it to the name of a number of books. With his second term coming, he had to create his new curriculum, the curriculum for those students who had elected to take his class at the NEWT level of considerable interest.
He recalled the days of his youth, when he was first taking root into his path that he'd followed up to the last year passes. When he was a seventh year, in his final year of study, acting as brother to Skyanna, and trusted friend to Sullivan. It was in his character to carry so few as friend. And even more in his character to treat those he did with high regard. Even after his graduation, he continued communications with the two, his most trusted allies to still reside in the castle, Skyanna, as a friend, confidant, and brother in the assumed absence of one linked by blood, and Sullivan, trusted friend, a man who's opinion Geoffrey valued perhaps higher than most others and enjoyed conversing with. These were the very books he was tasked with reading and memorizing; their words, his comfort in knowing, of use in the many battles and duels in years to come following his ascent to status within the ministry. The students, albeit lazy, would be better off to learn from them, as he did in his time in their place. He collected himself, placing the scrap in the pocket of his robe and went over to the fire place. He placed his hand within a small cauldron beside the fire place, before stepped into the over-sized space, dropping the dust down as he proclaimed loudly: "Leaky Cauldron." A bright green tongue of flame emerged up from the ash on the floor of the fireplace, consuming the tall blond professor in its glamour. No heat was exuded from the burst of energy, only the powerful pull downward, pulling Geoffrey through the Floo Network, his vision obscured by the speed by which he was pulled from his fireplace at Hogwarts and spat up in the same flare into the fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron.
Queasy, he emerged from the place, into the back alley and drew his wand, tapping the required bricks quickly so that the stone wall would fold back and allow him admission into the central shopping space of the British Wizarding community. He walked with considerable intention toward Flourish and Blotts, ready to search the wares for his required readings. He walked along the bustling street, careful in his treading as to not bump into anyone, and as he reached the store of his desires, he cut through the crowd as to meet the door. His eyes drifted to the site instinctively, a glimmer of interest appearing in the periphery. A familiar face. A very familiar one at that. He stopped in his tracks, his pull on the door ceasing. "Sully? Sullivan Wade?" he remarked, a smile on his face as he approached the man. "How've you been mate? Enjoying a casual stroll down the alley?" He wrapped his arm around the man, a rare gesture of friendship from the man. "Come, come, old friend, let's have a seat or something, and discuss the years passed." [/style] [style=font-family: Yanone Kaffeesatz; color: fff; line-height:100%; font-size: 19px;]TAG | SULLY , WORDS | 1008 , NOTES | SORRY IT TOOK A WHILE [/style][/style][/td][/tr][/table][/center] |
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