Silent Hedges

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Richmond Vanetta

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OOC First Name
Beth
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Bleak darkened clouds hung above the streets of waning light, filtering out the last remnants of the sun in favour of the hurtling gloom they spun upon the world below. In the murky blooms of light, he moved, a faded glint of hope sparking off the leather he donned so often. He twitched the taloned ring amongst his fingers, the surgically sharp aciculate talon stenciling a fine line into the overhang of leather on his palm. The solid souls of his touched firmly against the street as he moved stealthily. He was not out of place in his surroundings, even with his trailing leather coat tail. As the hunt began, the beast reared its head in a deadly smile, and it could not help but wonder if Knockturn Alley bore the same fruits as Bleak Street had done for so long.

Richmond cocked his head, piercing blue eyes seeking out prey. They found it. "An easy kill," he purred to himself, spying the the elder witch in fragrant blue robes. She seemed so lost, so vulnerable, so deliciously helpless. The temptation to harm another had grown too strong. He was addicted to making others suffer at his hand. It gave him the burst of power he had longed for. Richmond buried himself in the growing shadows of the alley, watching, stalking his prey. Was she even aware of his presence? Did she feel his eyes slicing through her flesh? It seemed as though she were blissfully unaware, humming to herself a tune of old, one that caused something almost human to emanate from the man awaiting the perfect moment to strike. Nothing would be enough to bring his reign of torture and pain to an end. He fed off the suffering of others. He only grew stronger.

The woman paused in her step, looking over at one of the shops lining the way. She stared long and hungrily at it, or so it appeared to the hunter. This woman was definitely no challenge. He may as well draw out the meeting. Cockily, Richmond stepped from the shadows, standing and watching the woman. She seemed to notice him, now, her eyes turning on him. She watched his approach, and he could not wait to see the burning cries of help in her eyes. He moved closer, and closer still.
 
She glanced to the sky at the first rumble of thunder. It was typical that one of the times she had been granted time off work to visit her daughter and grandson in England, that the weather would do its very best to disturb whatever hope of a nice day out she may have had. It had been her plan to take George to the muggle zoo in London, one of the days she was back, but so far, the heat had barreled them all into submission, and she had resigned to remain in her daughter's house for a good few days. However, today, Boudicca had decided to take some time out, the sale of the house she had once owned with her husband was weighing on her mind. To London she had gone, and to the shops of Diagon Alley she had been, searching for something a little special to take back for her grandson. But habit had gotten the better of her, and as she so often did with Bleak Street back in New Zealand, she found herself trailing off down Knockturn Alley. Neither place was truly safe, but currently, she wandered to keep an eye out for any objects in the shop windows that should not have been there.

It was a corrupt world in which her grandson was to grow up, and as an Auror, Boudicca felt it her responsibility, no, duty, to keep it as free of dark magic as humanly possible. It didn't take long for her eyes to find an artifact in one window, which she was certain was not meant to be there. It was only by chance that she caught sight of the shadow in the corner of her vision, only by chance that she registered she was not alone in the baron street, only by chance that she had an inkling as to who the stranger was. Her wand was stowed beneath her pastel blue cloak, and subtly, her hand reached for it. If her hunch was correct, then she would need to brace herself. If he did not realise she was aware of him, perhaps she would have the upperhand? Boudicca began to hum. It was the same tune her mother had sang to her as a child infested with nightmares. She continued pacing the street, stopping and fixing the shop window with a stare; inside sat a large, angled mirror. She could see her attacker looming in the shadows, watching her. Now he was moving, heading straight for her, preparing to pounce.

Boudicca turned slowly to face him, wondering of his intentions, though her eyes soon found the talon ring, and she almost took comfort in knowing exactly who he was. Vanetta. The Auror's eyes darkened as she watched his approach. Her cloak was drawn to shelter herself from the inevitable rain that never came, and within it, she clutched her wand, readying herself for the worst.
 
Richmond's lips twitched in delight. Now his victim was fully aware of his presence, now another witch knew of his existence, and would suffer for it. He engulfed the distance between them in a fluid sweep, so close, now, his taloned finger lifting itself and reaching out to stroke and cut at the woman's face. But it did not get that far. Richmond's eyes widened as she drew her wand, smiling as a wave of bright light blasted him in the chest. He was thrown back by the sheer power of it. This one is going to fight back, his eyes narrowed, but still he smiled, this one is going to make for a more satisfying game. He began to clamber back to his feet, un-startled by the fact that the attack had been launched against him. He did not think for one moment that she may have actually known who he was, and exactly how much she was going to suffer at his hand.

The only thing that did surprise him, was that she did not turn and run, she did not flee the scene. She had the chance to. Then again, the moment he reached his feet, she shot him back down, again, with another blasting spell. Richmond slid a hand to his pocket, drawing out his own, slender wand. He held it aloft as he leapt to his feet, sending a spiraling red spell towards her. She dived aside, letting the spell hit the cobbled street with a resounding crack. She sent another his way, which he blocked. He sent two back, and she narrowly avoided both. He assumed, for a moment, that their exchange in spells had come to an end whence he had disarmed her of her wand, which landed upon the ground with a clatter. Richmond sent a stunning spell her way, but..

She blocked it. She blocked it without a wand. She was a better trained witch than he had guessed from her elegant robes and frail face. It was only now that he began to guess that he had targeted the wrong victim for that evening's entertainment. She sent another spell his way, and though he withdrew, somewhat, the spell still hit, sending his own wand soaring from his hand. The woman took both wands, pocketing his. Richmond still smiled on, though it faltered. "Well done," he hissed, clapping his hands in mockery, "however, if you knew me, you would know that I do not need a wand.." Richmond darted forwards, the razor-sharp talon spiking in the woman's direction. He slashed towards her, but her reactions were faster, and she stepped back, a rip appearing through the dress of her robes. She was unscathed. His luck had run out. A sudden snapping noise signaled the ropes shooting from the end of her wand, slapping against the leather he encased himself in, and fastening themselves tightly around his body. He fell to his knees, twitching. He stopped moving, feeling the talon ring pierce a small hole in his leather.
 
The world seemed to spin her quite suddenly, as her reactions got the better of her. He had gotten to close, and she had force him back. She would not be intimidated by this man. She did not owe him that pleasure. She kept him down, until time, for her, seemed to slow. He was back on his feet, and the battle commenced. Both sides shot spells at one-another, both leapt aside to avoid the pain. It were as though they had become encased in their own bubble of a world, and all inside that bubble was war. He disarmed her. She still felt she had the upper hand. Only the best were Aurors, and Boudicca was not going to lose out on this chance, not when she knew just how much was at stake.

Shielding herself from another of his spells, she threw one straight back at him. He was disarmed. It was lucky those were the two wandless spells she had mastered. Now it was her turn to restrain the beast of a man. She gained possession of both wands, using her own to shoot out ropes and tie him up. The battle was won. He would terrorise no more vulnerable, and innocent, people. "Vanetta," she breathed, "it looks like this is where your reign of terror ends." Boudicca looked down at the man, into his eyes. She could forgive most people, she could understand most crimes. This man, however, she understood only too well. And what was more, she knew something he didn't.

Boudicca raised her wand and conjured her patronus. The fennec fox did not hang around for long, and, instead, darted off down the darkened street in the gloomy light. She watched it leave, before turning back to the captured wizard. "I dare say you misjudged me, Vanetta." she nodded, "Here," she said, lifting up her foot and giving Vanetta a gentle push with it, "have a lay down while we wait for some assistance." He fell to his back, the fall cushioned only by his legs bent up behind him. If she hadn't understood who he was, Boudicca may have been more forgiving. But she could not forgive the man who could destroy her grandson's, and her daughter's lives. "You do know who I am, don't you?"
 
Richmond stared up at the woman from his new position on the ground. It was uncomfortable, to say the least, but definitely no more than he could handle. "You're an Auror," he guessed, not knowing what else she was supposed to be, or rather, who she actually was. "You obviously know me," he purred in satisfaction, having heard her address him by his name multiple times. Her face was not familiar. In fact, he had the sincere feeling that they had never met in all his life. Richmond was like lighting, not striking the exact same place twice, or, for that matter, the same victim. No, she may have seemed vulnerable, but had they met before, he surely would have been in this position, then. "No, I do not know you."
 
Boudicca shook her head in a way that suggested he ought to know who she was, or at least have some idea. In truth, she knew he would not know who she was, and she had little hope for him realising who her daughter was. "I'm sure that, amongst all this hell and bloodshed, you have likely forgotten who Lumina Sangora is." She awaited some sort of response, though her pause was only momentary, before she spoke again, "Then again, why should you?" She fixed him with a cold, hard stare. Maybe she shouldn't bring this up? No. No, she couldn't just do that, not when she wanted make sure he had been warded off, should he ever, though it was incredibly unlikely, be set free. Or maybe it was simply to test for any human life within the dark shell of a man. "She's my daughter," she pressed, ignoring any response from Vanetta, "and you met her quite some time ago, In New Zealand." Now she looked to his face, waiting for some form of recognition. Still nothing. "I don't think you realise the severity of your crimes." the words fell out, and Boudicca made no attempt to hold them back. She was a woman who hated no-one, but she loathed this man.
 
Richmond's mind was partially elsewhere, partially assessing his escape. He had slowly been turning his talon ring around, trying to touch it against the ropes. His only chance was to cut through them silently and quickly enough to avoid detection. Only then could he make a run for it. But his restraints were tough, and his best option was to humour the Auror with conversation. Everyone had a weakness, and he was sure he was about to learn of hers. "I do not know the name." he commented, though the words seemed to fall on deaf ears. He very nearly made some attempt at remembering the woman in question, but it rang no bells. He gave a cruel laugh at her words. It was like a mother scolding her son. A mother with no right to scold her son. He stared up at the elder witch's eyes, assessing his captor's weaknesses. "Please, do go on." he purred, keen to continue his escape effort.
 
Boudicca eyed Vanetta suspiciously as he insisted she go on. Still, she chose to go on. His snarling laughs egged her on. She wanted to shock him. She wanted to shake the very bones of this man. She wanted to see his reaction to something to serious. She wanted to offer him some scrap of hope, and then snatch it away just as cruelly as he had snatched away the lives of so many with his actions. She leant in close, now, very close, so as to speak only to Vanetta, to be close enough to whisper into the depths of his mind, his heart, and his soul. "I really think you'll enjoy what I have to tell you. It'll give you something to think about as you wile away those years in Azkaban. Because that's where you'll be. They'll throw you to the Dementors without a scrap of mercy. They won't even give you the relief of a Dementor kiss. They'll let you rot for the rest of your days, Vanetta, and I am grateful for it." She loathed him more than she believed she could. On paper, he had always been just a name, another criminal to be taken down. In the flesh, he was so much more than that, so much worse. He inspired her to loathe him. "And the best part?" she said, forcing a sneer onto her face, a hideous and vile one that clearly said she wanted nothing more than to put a halt to this man. Still, better he was alive and suffering until the end of his days. "This time next month, you'll be nothing. No-one will even remember your existence. You'll be forgotten, Vanetta, nothing but a grain of sand in the ocean." She shook her head with a glowering smile. Now was the time to tell him. And she did.

She spoke of the events that had occurred, she spoke of the beloved young grandson. She told him exactly who little George was and just why he was so important. She confessed to him her daughter's secret of George's paternity: Vanetta had a son. And if she got her way, he was never going to meet him.
 
Richmond did not care for what she said about Azkaban. He laughed, once more, before hissing his reply "I'm sure they will be the most comfortable years of my life." He didn't fear Azkaban. He didn't fear a life spent alone inside the un-breachable walls. He had spent an eternity on his own, already, so what more would the rest of his life be? He feared nothing and no-one. No, that wasn't strictly true. He feared being lost to history, and the words of being forgotten so soon, began to itch at the back of his head, thumping against the walls of his mind like a straight-jacket patient.

However much he tried not to listen, and to solely focus on freeing himself, he could not ignore the words flooding into his ears. His pupils turned to pin-pricks as he lay there, the talon ring limply cutting at the rope, realising only too late just what was going on in his life, what actually mattered to him. He felt like he was melting into the path. He had never given the time of day to Helene, just simply used her to upset others enough that they would remember him through her. He was a cold-hearted, murderous manipulator. And now he was headed to where he had earned himself a place. His childhood had burned him. It had distorted his mind. Perhaps if that teenage boy had not witnessed the things he had, his life would have been different. Now he knew he had a son. A boy to carry on his legacy. An inner calm washed over the turmoil. It numbed his thoughts. Richmond fell still, eyes open, staring up at the clouded sky.
 
Boudicca eased away from the man. She stood back up, her wand still on him. Vanetta had stopped twitching. Now he simply lay there, still and silent. She couldn't be sure that he was alive, but after a moment of observation, she noticed his stomach still moved as he drew each, slow breath. She had verbally stunned him. And she stood and waited for the London Ministry Aurors to make their way over. After all, she had no real authority in this part of the world.

It was not long after than Boudicca heard the distinctive crack of a witch or wizard apparating. A series of cracking noises told her that the expected had, at last, arrived. She stood back and allowed them to do their bit. Vanetta seemed to partially reanimate at their approach, and it looked as if he was trying to wriggle away. The other Aurors hurried to his side to further restrain him. Boudicca gave Vanetta a nod, turning to walk away. She wanted no more of this. She wanted to be back with her daughter and grandson. And then, she froze. Vanetta was speaking to her, calling something out. She cocked her head to listen.
 
They came to him under the heavy grey clouds. They held him down, they stopped his every escape. The angels of dusk were out to get him, and they'd found their man. He could hardly hear over the thudding of his heart, over so many thudding hearts as adrenaline braced them for the worst. But he could see. He could see through the gaps between their legs to the woman as she walked away. She turned, and she left him there. She knew something about him that even Helene didn't know. Helene. Richmond gave a snarl as he tried to sit up, as he tried to call out. He was forced back to the ground. "My daughter!" he cried out. "Helene!" His hoarse screams and shouts went unnoticed by the Aurors. They blocked his sight, now, and he was forced to lay there, squirming and worried. His daughter had no-one. She was going to be another lost cause like him. He was never going to see her with the eyes evolving in his head. It was over.
 
His final, hoarse cries were muffled by the group of Aurors. But Boudicca had heard him. She had heard his words, and now her heart was caught. There was a child involved. She had forgotten about the child. How could she have forgotten? Her own disgust and hatred of the man had swamped her vision, and she had forgotten about the daughter, the only person they could nearly track him by upon her return home from Hogwarts. She had likely transferred. She was probably at Hogwarts in Scotland, right at that moment. Boudicca closed her eyes. It was then that she made the decision. After a minute, she walked on, disapparating.
Boudicca stood in the kitchen of her daughter's home, a cup of tea in one hand. She had told Lumina of nothing. She did not wish to cause more trouble. It was part of the reason she had dodged out once the Auror's had arrived on scene. She didn't want any more involvement with it. What she had begun talking to Lumina about, however, was adoption. Lumina had been adopted as a child, and so had her eldest son. She based her argument upon how she wanted to give something back by adopting an older child to give them a home for a few years, or so. Boudicca thought of Helene, nodding to Lumina. "That's settled, then," she said, taking a swig of tea and placing her cup on the counter. "I'm going to adopt."
A couple of weeks on, and Boudicca had taken Helene into her care. She offered her a new life, a new name, and a new family. She had no intention of ever telling the young girl of her involvement with Vanetta, or how true her blood relation was to George Sangora.
 
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