Post by Trevor Williams on Oct 7, 2009 23:35:33 GMT -8
Saturday, 26 December 2010
10 a.m.
He didn't know what to feel. This week had contained a vast flurry of events starting almost a week ago with the murder of his wife and unborn son. The following day a small victory had been achieved with the capture of the Order of the Phoenix's leader himself, Damien Noland. The Prophet had been all over it as well as other respectable (and not so respectable) news sources. Of course, Morgana's cold shoulder treatment towards him after he had accused her of his wife's murder and had required her to take the Unbreakable Vow to prove her innocence wasn't helping matters, but he at least had Sienna. And then there was the fact that come tomorrow he was going to go see his long lost daughter, an event he had busied himself with planning all week long, planning through as many scenarios as he could think of in case something went wrong to prevent him from getting to her. All of this, of course, had evoked a myriad of emotions in Trevor over the course of the past seven days, but at the moment, he was hyped, and he had thought to himself last night that the visit to see Mr. Noland was long overdue and he ought to pay him a visit on the morrow.
So, a nanny had been arranged for Layla, and he had gone to bed early so he was rested and at the top of his game for anything Noland might throw at him. This morning had, of course, consisted of showering, dressing, eating, and situating the nanny with Layla in such a way that he was sure that she would do neither him nor Layla any sort of harm, and then apparating to Azkaban where he hadn't had to do much but show his face and walk on up to the area Noland was being kept. This area was secluded and away from other inmates for obvious reasons. Mr. Noland had done things over the past year or so that gave them reason to fear that he might incite a rebellion in others, especially those who were members of his beloved Order. He'd initiated an interim school, developed a safe house, and reinitiated the Order. He was a threat, and he and everyone else saw that reason enough to seclude him. Besides, it would only make the effects of the Dementors worse when one had nothing to keep him company, to raise his spirits even in the slightest.
Once he had reached the particular cell block, his silvery patronus following closely nearby, he called out, "Mr. Noland, so very good to see you today." He took three steps as he spoke and came into visibility before the prisoner, standing before his cell with his hands clasped comfortably in front of him. Yes, his patronus would also aid Noland's spirits, but perhaps that was what he wanted: to give the prisoner a reminder of how it felt without anything bogging him down, a sense of freedom emotionally, and then to take it away as he left, a sign of what was to come. The kiss would be what he would receive undoubtedly, but there were things to come before even that that he would find to be less than comfortable, less than desirable, but such was life when one decided to go against the law. It was his own choice, his own fault.