Information Falling Through

Whight stood in his normal attire. He was never a fan of the robes, they slowed his motions and made him feel foolish for some odd reason. People within the constant shifting crowd around him seemed to take little notice to the man standing flatfooted who was adjusting his wrist watch to match the time the was represented on the tower high above all.

Three more minutes and she will pass through, he thought. His blood started to pulse heavily through his body. He was ready and lately he found himself seeking the thrill of these adventures. As long as his informant had supplied accurate information, everything would go smoothly; no one would be paying any attention while they went about their daily business.

He spotted her, looked at the time. A little early, but no problem. He began to advance her way; her back to his front. He reached into his coat pocket for his wand and simultaneously reached for her left shoulder saying, "Miss, I think you..." and he stopped as his eyes met her upon her about face. He hesitated with, "dropped this." He quickly shifted his hand and grabbed a blank piece of paper he had intended to write a letter on. He pulled it out before unlocking eye contact so she would not see him pull it out of his coat but think he had chased her down to give her back her possession.

He handed her the paper and turned to leave hoping to correct his mistake. He quickly searched the crowd trying to find the intended individual.

Amelia was anxious as she moved around the crowds in the busy shopping area of London, disappointed but not surprised to find herself once again surrounded. She had hoped that the commencement of the first semester would mean she would finally have some time to herself, but it seemed that all the time she now spent in the company of others had made her restless with too much time to herself, and the usually-reclusive Potions Master of Hogwarts had ventured out into downtown London, her Christmas spending money tucked safely away in her brown leather bag.

It had been a struggle, getting through this first semester as a new professor. She had come up against former classmates, whose first instinct upon seeing her at the head of the classroom had been to challenge her authority. She had seen some small successes, and had some definitive failures sprouting from the difficulty she often had interacting with others. And, of course, she had had her difficulties with the powers-that-be at Hogwarts, who had been bearing down on her to the point of sitting in on her classes and offering “advice”, which roughly translated to “things you better do or we’ll fire you”.

No doubt, this semester had changed her. She had experienced a whole host of emotions she had been unfamiliar with up to this point – helplessness, confusion, failure – and a few she was all too familiar with – frustration, annoyance, exasperation. But this outing was proof that on some fundamental level, Amelia was changing; six months ago, Amelia would have relished the opportunity to hole up in her professorial dormitory and avoid human contact altogether. But now, she found herself going out, discontent to be alone for so many consecutive days.

This particular store, however, was bringing back the side of Amelia that was more familiar, the side that got anxious among strangers and cramped spaces, and upon feeling the sense of panic rising in her chest, Amelia knew it was time to push for the doorway. Holiday shoppers were coming out it droves, both to purchase and to return, and the redhead was beginning to feel claustrophobic.

As she reached the door, Amelia pulled her black coat tighter around herself before stepping out onto the street. Her legs, wrapped only in tights, bristled at the first sign of cold, but she adjusted quickly – she was used to being cold. Her mother’s attention to wardrobe had carried with Amelia, even now that she no longer lived at home for any portion of the year, and she was dressed accordingly.

Looking left and right, Amelia decided to head toward a coffee shop to get a bit of tea to warm up, but no sooner had she taken a few steps in that direction than did she feel a tap on the shoulder. She turned as a man’s voice extended from the space behind her, and she found herself eye-to-eye with a man in a well-tailored suit with dark brown hair, a man whom she did not recognize.

Upon meeting her gaze, the man seemed to hesitate, as did Amelia under the scrutiny of a stranger. It was he who recovered first, though, and extended a sheet of parchment toward her, claiming she had dropped it. Unconsciously, Amelia’s eyes dropped to her bag, which was zipped tight, and being as anal retentive as she was, she never carried any spare scraps of paper in her pockets. This mental review of her possessions left Amelia certain the paper did not belong to her, but before she could say so, the man thrust the piece of parchment into her hand and turned to leave.

“Wait!” Amelia said, rather louder than she might have intended, though she did want the man’s attention.

“I don’t believe this is mine,” the young professor stated, taking a step toward the man in the hopes that he would once again turn to face her, perhaps giving her another look at him and see if she could recognize him. Her memory have never failed her to date, but perhaps she had merely failed to get a good look, “Perhaps you’ve got the wrong woman?”

Flushed with anger and dismay, Whight intently searched the crowd locking his eyes on passing faces only long enough to dismiss them from who he was in search. Foolishness, he thought. His heart pounded harder and harder as his chance for spotting the correct woman continued to dwindle. He had not made a mistake since his time working the first job he allowed himself to be sucked into.


"This is for you," said the professor as he pushed an envelope towards Whight. They were sitting in the study where they had just finished one of the many lessons for the summer. "I have found the man that killed your parents." This struck Whight hard and his eyes narrowed. It was the first time the man had brought up the death of his parents since he adopted the boy. "Yes, he lives and is still close by. You left your mark but I believe it was not the mark you originally intended to leave. You wanted him dead, as would anyone, and you probably thought you had killed him with your magic.

"In this envelope is information on the man and his whereabouts and the bonus to this little adventure, should you choose to accept, is you're not the only one looking for him. He owes some very powerful people a lot of money." Whight grew more interested but still did not let the money distort the real reason he wanted the man dead. "I have met with these people and they know the man is a drunken bum who will never pay his debts; it was a careless investment on their part. They have agreed to pay a great amount to the individual that can bring them his body, dead or alive."

The professor rose from his chair, gathered his books and left Whight to ponder alone. At first he did not know what to think, he had always been so sure that the man had died. He opened the envelope and quickly read it over and memorized it. When he was through he set the paper ablaze with the candle the sat only feet from him. He watched it burn and let the fire light his eyes.

He walked the dumps of London's deep building cracks searching for the location the man was usually seen. There were many homeless still asleep on the ground; it was still early for most that morning. Whight slowly walked, staying very alert and very quiet as to not draw any unneeded attention to himself; he had even down played his attire at bit.

There were grunts and shouting around a nearby corner and Whight approached. He peered around careful to not reveal himself but to see the murder holding a gun to the chest of a teenager with his left hand; his right was tucked away within the holds of his coat. The boy held his hands in the air and claimed to not have what the man seemed to be wanting. The man grew angrier by every passing second up to the point where he shot the boy, searched his limp body, pocketed something and ran. Whight did not chase him or even check to see if the boy was alive. Instead, he made himself comfortable in the streets and waited; this would be easier than he thought.

That night Whight approached the man as he slept on the ground. I could end his life now, so easily, he thought but did not. He crouched beside the man whose body smelled of sewage and alcohol; Whight wanted to vomit. He picked up the bottle that lay in the man's hand and stood. He examined the dark liquid at eye level and then let it slip from his fingers to burst on the ground. The man rose in a half drunken confusion and began to scream at Whight. He kept his own composure until the man stopped and made claim of knowing. "You're that boy," he spat as his right arm twisted under his coat.

Whight smiled as fear crossed the man's face in his back steps. "I am. And I have come to take what you have taken from me. Life." He pulled his wand out but the man was a fighter and the killing curse missed and hit the alley wall. The man speared Whight to the ground. Fear was now jolting through them both but Whight took advantage of the man's weak body and drunkenness and over turned him.

Whight had now pinned the man down by sitting on his torso, left hand upon his neck and wand in between his eyes. He would never give anyone a chance to overturn him again, he would be better, perfect, at his work. "Know that this is no act of evil but an act of good by most standards. You live off the lives of others and kill those who may simply get in your way. You ruined my life and I shall take yours just as you did my parent's without second thought." A bright light filled the alley. Whight took the body to the step of those who wanted it but left a note saying, 'Keep the money. It was my pleasure.'

There was a thrill of taking the man's life that Whight felt uncomfortable with at first but he soon began to seek it with new work. He loved who he become when he was on the hunt and the fact that he was good at what he did only made things better.


He heard the woman he had just ran into shout for him. He knew she would but he had hoped to lose her before she had the chance to catch up with him. Her pursuit began to annoy his situation even more. He didn't know who to blame; himself or his informant. It was a good thing this was only a side job and something that could be looked over easily. He continued to ignore the woman to feverishly search the changing crowd. When his target was not spotted he turned to appease her.

"I'm sorry, I could have sworn I saw you drop it," he lied while trying to calm his thoughts. "But you are correct I suppose, I did have the wrong woman and I apologize once more." He took a good look at her. How had he mistaken her for his target? No, this was a woman who Whight grew interested in when he began to study her eyes. He looked around once more but this time to break the eye contact. Not trusting himself to speak just yet he waited for her to make the next move.

Amelia felt the impatience her mother had always hated creeping up on her as she was forced to follow the man more than a few steps, because he hadn’t yet turned around. She could see only the back of his head, covered in dark hair, and occasionally his face in profile as he scanned the crowd, attempting to see something or someone that Amelia couldn’t identify. Or perhaps he was lost? Amelia was running out of viable options quickly, but not as quickly as she was running out of patience. She was just about to abandon her task and just toss the scrap of paper in a nearby rubbish bin when the man finally turned around to face her.

More careful this time to get a definitive look, Amelia did not allow her eyes to merely glance over the stranger, but instead forced herself to get a good look at him. He was about her height, though her heels made her just tall enough to have to look slightly lower than eye level to meet his gaze. He was built like a runner, though his clothes did not indicate if that particular type of exercise was a normal part of his daily routine. His eyes were shielded by a pair of heavy-framed glasses, but not so guarded that Amelia failed to read the impatience in them. No. Amelia was certain now, she did not know this man. His words were clipped, formal, not unlike the way she communicated, but Amelia couldn’t help but feel a bit bristled by his less-than-welcoming demeanor. It was he who had made the mistake, not her.

“It’s fine,” Amelia said brusquely, handing the paper back to him in a business-like manner, “No harm done.”

Amelia was trying to maintain the same clipped tone the man had used, but as he met her gaze fully for the first time, she found her curiosity too piqued to merely go on her way as had been her original intention. It was almost as if he were studying her, and Amelia blushed under his scrutiny until he dropped his eyes to look around at anything other than the woman standing in front of him. Awkwardly, Amelia wished her mother were here to prompt her with the right way to dismiss herself from the situation, but without such guidance, Amelia muddled through a few seconds of silence before finding her voice.

“Are you… looking for something?” Amelia asked curtly, her mind settling on annoyance rather than politeness when she finally found something to say. She had glanced up at the man a few times in her attempt to find a way to disengage, and each time she had found him looking at the crowd around them, unwilling to meet her gaze so she could properly dismiss herself.

“I do not have perhaps the best sense of direction, but I am fairly familiar with the area, if you need me to point you in the right direction…?”

This is the opposite of disengaging, Amelia’s subconscious prodded from the back of her mind, always one to point out the obvious.

Whight had finally calmed his thoughts enough to think straight and not continue to feed this woman before him more lies. His thoughts were focused on her even though his eyes were not. She was a bit younger than he but age did not matter much to him, it was the level of maturity he looked for which she seemed to possess a great deal of.

She spoke in similar manner that Whight himself spoke and as she did his gazed refocused on her eyes. Her pestering questions annoyed him in the beginning but as she continued speaking his annoyance vanished. This girl was gorgeous he thought but tried not to let it show. She was being so nice and seemingly genuine he thought. "No, but thank you though, I'm not lost at all," he said slightly shaking his had. "But you many be able to help me in some way," he looked once more at his watch. "My schedule has just opened up and I'm completely available. Could you escort me to the closed and finest restaurant? I'm suddenly starving and would like some company if you don't mind. My treat," he added with a bright smile.

Whight was shocked at the words that had just poured out of his mouth, he had never in his life been so forward in this fashion to a woman. For whatever reason he automatically wanted to know more about her and he wanted to know if she had the potential to be a great alley. He stood their feeling awkward with a blushed face trying to predict what she would say next.

Amelia was preparing herself to break her mother’s rules (as if one could actually live without breaking at least a few of them – the list was extensive), and merely dismiss herself without receiving recognition from the other party, but finally the man seemed to gather himself enough to look at her once more. He corrected her assumption that he might be lost, though Amelia hadn’t expected him to admit it if he had been. People had a tendency to want to always be on track, and admitting they didn’t know what they were doing was hardly a flattering light to be cast in.

Speaking from experience? Amelia’s subconscious teased, knowing all too well that the redhead never admitted faults if she could avoid it. It wasn’t that she didn’t have the self-awareness to acknowledge them, but rather, didn’t want to hang her dirty laundry in public. At least on that account, she and her mother were in agreement.

“Great, then I’ll just be goi-“ Amelia began, already having begun her nod of dismissal when the man interrupted her with a proposition of help. Without being checked, Amelia’s gut reaction was to sigh as she turned back to him, though she tried to hide it with a small cough so as not to seem entirely improper. She was beginning to think this impulse to be among people had been faulty from the beginning.

The man didn’t wait for her to offer the help he required, but rather launched into what Amelia considered a very confusing request. The finest restaurant? And he wanted her to… what? The young professor’s confusion was visible on her face.

Food + Man = date. D-A-T-E. He is asking you on a date. I can’t fathom why, but that seems to be the case. Amelia’s subconscious prodded her, wanting to correct for the perplexed look Amelia was currently sporting. Rather than improve her presentation, however, the realization of what had just occurred made Amelia blush profusely, and she dropped her gaze from the man across from her.

“You, um… you’re rather…. That’s, I mean…” Amelia stuttered, her eloquence failing, as it always did, in any situation that was foreign to her. And random men asking her to dinner after a conversation lasting less than two minutes definitely fell into the category of ‘unfamiliar situations’ where Amelia was concerned.

“That’s rather forward, don’t you think?” Amelia blurted before she could stop herself, and all the little Antoinette figurines in her head that were usually there to tell her what to do sighed, or slapped their foreheads in frustration. Even after so much training in socialization, Amelia still managed to consistently say exactly the wrong thing.

“I mean, not that I’m not flattered, just that… well, I don’t even know your name,” Amelia finished bluntly, her attempt at smoothing over the situation falling flat as soon as her practicality came through. No one had dinner with a complete stranger. And complete strangers did not ask her on dates. This entire situation was too bizarre for Amelia to know how she ought to behave, and without a script, Amelia tended to be a bit more off-putting than charming.

Mixed emotion filled the words that came from her. She was clearly confused about the proposal almost as much as Whight was; he did not let it show. Instead, he spoke clearly and confidently as to try and look like less of a fool that he had already portrayed. He worked to make the situation look as if it were less of an accident he was trying to fix and more of an event that he anticipated to happen.

His offer was not a date and he knew anyone in their right mind would think it was. Whight was quickly recalculating the situation and turning the mistake into a possible recruiting opportunity. It was in fact part of his job, he felt, to recruit new members to their cause. He knew his boss would be even more pleased with him if he showed some greater charismatic abilities as well; this was a bit of a step for Whight.

He remembered giving his lecture to the last recruit he stumbled upon. 'Good and evil are all in perception,' he almost smiled when he thought of it. It was a persuasive speech and Whight was already bringing up key point of it in his head.

Whight studied her body more this time instead solely focusing on her eyes while she spoke. He half listened as he wondered what he could say to persuade her. Her face reddened, her words were stuttered and she shifted almost uncomfortably. Her close did not seem to fit her age but she pulled the look off. Whight knew all too well that the look you carried was all about the attitude you carried with it.

By this time Whight was back in complete control of himself again after having pushed off the annoyance of his missed hit. "I've seem to have lost my manners as well," he said as a man in the crowd bumped into his shoulder and continued walking. He quickly looked at the man and then back to her, "My name is Whight. I know I seem a bit forward but know I rarely offer an opportunity like this to anyone." She was a bit young but that could mean nothing, it could even mean future potential. "I know it may seem as such, but I am not asking you on a date as I too do not know your name; that wouldn't be very gentlemen-like of me . Simple company is all I'm asking for and if you can somehow intrigue me I may have quite an offer for you."

He let his words settle. His words were crisp and his facial expressions were unmoved. He did not want to give of the impression that he was trying to set her up with falsehoods and lies so he worked to maintain himself.

Amelia smiled self-consciously as the man apologized for his lack of manners, because she had been forced to do that very same thing so many times over the years. Although she tried to live up to her mother’s impossible standards, Antoinette was rarely satisfied with Amelia’s attempts at socialization. It seemed Whight had been raised in a similar situation, because his apology sounded almost as practiced as the one Amelia’s mother had always pandered to her.

Antoinette would approve, Amelia’s subconscious chimed in, her mind creating a tone that suggested the same prodding the woman in question would have given Amelia if she really had been over her shoulder rather than just in Amelia’s head.

“Amelia Lyons,” the redhead replied, nodding respectfully toward Whight’s introduction because he hadn’t extended his hand. Amelia actually preferred this form of greeting, because it kept her personal space fully intact, and she tended to get a bit squirmy when she got to close to others, whether physically or emotionally.

“And I didn’t- I mean, it would have been silly of me to think you were suggesting a date,” Amelia said, forcing laughter to give credit to her statement. Of course, she had been thinking exactly that, thanks to her traitorous subconscious, but she should not have given in to that belief. No one asked Amelia out on dates, and this was no exception, as she should have known from her gut reaction.

So if it isn’t a proposition for a date… what is it, exactly? Amelia’s rationale asked from the back of her mind, probing Amelia’s curiosity in much the same way Whight’s statement about intrigue had. He probably hadn’t meant it as a challenge, but Amelia had instinctively taken it as such. The redhead had developed a pattern of small rebellions, because she was incapable of the same, large-scale insurgence her brother had enacted… four years ago, now. Amelia found herself feeling a bit defensive at the idea that this man thought she might fail to intrigue him – she was very intriguing.

You do everything in your power to be a wallflower. How is that intriguing? Amelia’s subconscious questioned sarcastically.

Shut up. Amelia’s consciousness retorted bitterly.

“Alright, you’ve tapped into my curiosity. I suppose I don’t have any concrete plans for dinner, and since you seem to need the direction, I will agree to join you. Murphy’s is the best within walking distance, so we’ll just head this way,” Amelia said after a few seconds deliberation, though when she spoke, it was with conviction. She didn’t want this man to believe that she in any way was going to do whatever he suggested; she had made a conscious decision to take him up on his challenge, and she intended to convey that through her actions. She began to weave her way deliberately through the few people standing outside the shop until they stepped onto a clearer part of the street.

“So what brings you to London?” Amelia inquired a few minutes later, once Whight had caught up to her stride, “I tend to recognize most people by sight around here, but you haven’t yet spiked my radar, which means you must be new to the area.”

This wasn’t untrue; Amelia spent so much time alone that most of it was spent people-watching. Though she had met very few people on these excursions, she had taken in her surroundings to the point of being somewhat of an anomaly detector in this area. And Whight… was an anomaly she hadn’t quite figured out yet.

Whight almost felt guilty. He was not in his true face but that was something she could see later if she showed potential. In any case he liked his look that day, he was always sure to change himself on hit jobs and at this point in his life there were only three people who knew his true features now that he was grown. They were deserving individuals, they had shown their worth and proved themselves as they had promised.

He was excited that she had taken him up on his offer, if anything it would just be nice to have dinner with company for once. The only company Whight normally had at his house was that of books. He did not mind the loneliness at all but at times he did become bored with himself when business was slow.

"I actually live just north of here," he started. "I spend most of my time studying, I don't get out much if you can imagine, so that may explain why you haven't seen me around. I have lived here in this area all my life," pausing with a confirming tone. Though it wasn't the entire truth as to why she didn't recognize him, he wasn't trying to lie her.

"So what about you?" he asked. "Clearly you're from around here since you're shocked you don't recognize me, but do you only participate in muggle activity?" He used the word 'muggle' to help confirm his thoughts on the woman. Her aura was that of a strengthened witch and Whight wanted to know if that was exactly what she was; her reaction to the word would give him all the information he needed.

They were outside of the wizarding world but it was not uncommon for Whight to run into a fellow witch or wizard every now and then in the crowds of London. He put his hands in his pockets as he walked attempting to look as casual and comfortable as possible while still thinking of everything he would propose to her if his instincts had not led him astray.

Interesting… Amelia thought to herself when Whight explained that he wasn’t from the immediate area, but close enough that Amelia should have seen him around. His explanation that he spent most of his time studying reminded Amelia of her own life, which strengthened his explanation, but did not completely corroborate it. Although many of her peers at Hogwarts would be hard-pressed to give her real name, many of them would at least be able to say they had seen her in the library or running on the grounds. She had never managed to be fully invisible, despite her best efforts.

“I see. What is it that you study?” Amelia inquired, not trying to pry, but admittedly trying to figure out something more about the man who was now striding next to her as the crowds started to dissipate. They were getting to a rather more expensive area of town, which automatically made it less crowded. The man hadn’t specified what his price range was, but he had asked for the best, and Murphy’s was decidedly the best in the area.

It seemed Amelia was not the only one capable of asking questions to maintain the smalltalk, however, as Whight asked a question of his own that made Amelia raise an eyebrow at him skeptically. Surely that was not the most subtle way of asking her if she belonged to the wizarding community; after all, if she had been a muggle, the word itself would have thrown her off, and likely would have lost Whight his dinner conversation. Then again, a man who invites a total stranger to dinner didn’t exactly ring true with subtlety in the first place.

“I’m a witch, if that’s what you’re asking,” Amelia said, pulling her wand just far enough out of the pocket of her jacket that Whight could see it, “And you’re magical too, if that strip of hornbeam is any indication,” the young woman added, inclining her head toward the pocket that she could just barely see the wand sticking out of. Amelia had made the assumption whens he first saw Whight and what looked like the outline of a wand, but the use of the word ‘muggle’ had confirmed her suspicion to the point of saying it aloud.

“I’m originally from Birmingham, but since graduation I’ve been teaching and living at Hogwarts. Potions, to be precise,” Amelia added, checking her watch as they came upon the block Murphy’s was situated on. The restaurant was already partially filled, Amelia noticed, as they walked past the windows and up to the door.

“Well, here we are,” Amelia said, stopping just beneath the wooden placard enscribed with Murphy’s in bold script.