King Allyn the Autistic
7 October 1887Dark Witch Still At Loose On The Isle of Ireland!
'Orenda Villery has been sighted again. The leader of the Wightbourne Coven allegedly razed a small village in the Irish countryside. The Minister for Magic. Faris Spavin, has assigned a new team of Aurors to take down the dark witch and her coven once and for all. Read more about the crimes of the Wightbourne Coven on page 4.'
A rare picture graces the front page of the Daily Prophet, of a young woman smiling on her wedding day. Although grainy, the image shows an embroidered white dress, and various flowers in her hand while her other arm is locked with that of a stately looking man: her first kill. Her wedding band presumed to be her horcrux. The image shifts, her smile turns to a wicked grin, her short hair barely covers her ears. The flowers wilted, and her white dress black as the night. It's an approximation; nobody knows what she truly looks like now.
A young man, in his late twenties at most, runs his fingers over his temple as he reads the full article of her crimes. He's already familiar with all of them - and those nobody knows of yet. Beside him a cup of tea stirs itself, but the spoon falls idle as he reads further and loses himself in his train of thoughts. Grey eyes trace the words, and imagine the unfathomable wickedness of this coven. Not just crimes; sacrifices that the coven feasts on. Women addicted to the taste of evil, of death. The task asked of him is to end this madness, and it truly has to be madness if they had to ask him for it.
Realising he has gotten lost in thought, the young wizard takes a plain silver pocket watch from his waistcoat and checks the time. As he flicks it open, the words engraved on the inside changes. 'Don't be late Phil'. Without so much as a sip of his tea, he gets up. His short, black cloak lifts up from the back of the rickety wooden chair by itself, and fastens around his shoulders. Although he is in a hurry, he still takes the time to give a polite nod to the bald barman behind the counter of the Leaky Cauldron. A few knuts are quickly fished from a small satchel on his belt, and he lays the daily prophet besides it.
"In case someone else would like it." He smiles, taking his leave without heading the answer.
The halls of the Ministry of Magic are empty at the late hour, and his footsteps echo through the atrium. Yet he knows where he has to be. As the elevator gates close, he checks his pocket watch again; once more the words shift and change. 'Good luck'.
A moment later he stands at the lowest floor, the dark tiles making it difficult to get a sense of size on the hallway. It both looks endless, yet at the same time claustrophobic. It nauseates him slightly, but he pushes onward to the single, dark door at the end. A light knock with the back of his knuckle announces his presence, and the door opens. The room behind it is beautiful and light: tall, paned windows are nested between white pillars that crown into a high ceiling, like the very top of a tower. It is disorienting, knowing instinctively that he is far below the ground. Inside the room there stands nothing but a desk. A chair with a high backrest is tucked underneath it, and another simple chair already pulled back for him to take a seat upon. He walks a few paces into the room, but doesn't sit down.
"Is it not to your liking?" A female voice resounds from behind him, but his only response is to turn his head slightly.
"Not particularly." He responds flatly, and with a snap of his fingers his wand appears in his hand. "Apstergo Totalum."
With an elegant, elaborate motion of his wrist, he aims for the chair. The air trembles, like it would below heat in summer as it passes the chair. A dark, smoke like mist evaporates from it.
"Impressive." The woman's voice says again, and he swears to hear a hint of an amused chuckle.
"It shouldn't be, should it? I believe it's why you asked for me." He responds, not moving from his position. "Philantros Lofty, charm weaver and curse breaker." A short bow is meant to show his goodwill, even if it is not aimed towards the voice.
"Auror. From this moment onwards - provided you can pass the requirements."
A slight smile spreads on his face, and he gives a nod that he understands what lays ahead of him.