Chapter 1
There was a distinct smell of acrid smoke hovering near the entrance to Borgin and Burkes. Gevin Rookwood stood across the street, trying to ascertain its cause. Most folks merely glanced at the old store front and kept on walking. Those who were interested weren't going to show it and those who were not, wanted everyone else to know they had noticed it. It was a dangerous mistake to give the air of obliviousness. You had better prove you knew what was going on around you, or it would be taken as a sign of weakness. Give something too much weight and you were considered a novice, ripe for the picking.
Gevin did not fit into any particular category. He wasn't a bad seed, but being the nephew of one Augustus Rookwood placed him in a precarious world. Those who stood against the dark arts practitioners turned their noses up at him, and trusted him about as much as they trusted a Red Cap. Those who secretly aligned themselves with the Death-Eaters, and their crowd, gave him a grudging respect. Everyone else usually ignored him the best they could.
He spent a great deal of time wandering Knockturn Alley, staying at a small inn across the street from the infamous dark arts shop. His Uncle had left him a sizeable sum of galleons shortly before disappearing from his job in the ministry of magic. Gevin, not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, accepted the money and did his best to lay low. Out of sight, out of mind he figured. His Uncle, usually one to attach strings to everything, did this one without even a minor request. Gevin wondered if his Uncle had a premonition about things to come. Maybe the dark mark at the Quidditch World Cup last year had something to do with it. He was just not sure.
He had feared that today would be just another boring day, but the sudden afternoon commotion across the way piqued his curiosity. He knew Mr. Borgin's daughter was watching the store, while her father was away. Borgin was off looking to acquire more goods to pawn off on the foolish and the ignorant, no doubt. In spite of his wariness of getting involved with anything, he strode across the narrow street and briskly walked in through the greenish-purple smoke.
As he entered a large mirror stood just inside. He briefly caught a glimpse of his unkempt self. His hair was mussed and his clothes were bedraggled, but that was no act of laziness. He spent a great deal of time simply disappearing into the shiftless crowds. If he was planning to visit the Diagon side of things, he was miraculously cleaned up and dressed well, to avoid anyone noticing him there either. Today was definitely a Knockturn day.
He allowed himself to breathe in again after passing through the unknown smoke and took a good look around. The store was much the same, a little too dark and a little too disorganized; at least to the untrained eye. Gevin knew full well that the store was laid out with strict purpose. Certain items were simply not allowed to be next to others. The chance that something quite unfortunate might occur was kept to the safest minimum; though he would never let his guard down. A silver snake orb was only an aisle away from a vulture's head idol. If the two were to ever be accidentally touched simultaneously by someone who had even a drop of muggle blood in them, they would cause a magical rift that would most likely take out a large section of the surrounding neighborhood. He knew this, because his Uncle taught him all too well.
Finally, his eyes came to rest on Elwyna Borgin. She was beautiful in her own way, but her sullen and withdrawn personality did much to hide it. Her dark black hair was long and cut in severe angles that offset her moonlight-pale skin, giving her a strangely gothic poise. Her lips, always seemingly pursed, were colored an odd shade of violet and her large eyes were dark and foreboding. Gevin liked her, in that she fit in about as well as he did. Which is to say, not at all. She was staring at a small, black chest in the middle of the floor. It still bore a label from its recent origins. Albania. It had a large warding rune on its lid and there was a continuous seep of the strange smoke emanating from it. She appeared extremely unhappy about the whole thing.
"Hi Ellie"
"What do you want," she announced sternly, as she turned to face him. "Oh, it's you. I didn't realize." She appeared briefly flustered, but almost immediately her brow became furrowed again. She turned back toward the chest.
"My father has lost his mind. Why would he send this thing here? He had better already have a customer for it, or I am going to personally hang him when he returns!"
"Always the charming one."
"Shut up, Gevin! Or I will beat you with some old dragon sinew."
"Ahhh, yes, is it any wonder that half of Knockturn lives in fear of you?"
Elwyna stopped for a moment and then broke out into a sudden laugh. It was a cold laugh, but it was about as normal of a reaction as you would ever get from her.
"I'll pay you to take that thing far away from here and bury it somewhere in Queerditch Marsh."
Gevin sighed, "Alas my fair daughter of darkness, I'm loathed to incur your father's wrath. The man is somewhat touched in the head."
"Of course he's touched in the head. He runs a store for the dark arts just down the way from Gringott's Bank! One day the ministry is going to come down here and blow this entire alley off the map. Then where will all the outcasts and misfits go?!" she snapped.
"What's in it," Gevin asked.
"I'm not exactly sure. I was just about to read the letter my father sent along with it."
Elwyna quietly poured over the letter's contents, her face becoming darker and darker as she read. Her mood was definitely going south, Gevin noted.
"Father says in his letter, that it is some sort of divining chest. Apparently you can gaze into its depths and see across vast distances. Blah, blah, blah… wait a minute. He says that if you spill some of your blood into it, you can actually cast a spell at whatever you are looking at, as if you were right there."
"Are you kidding me Elwyna," Gevin said with a degree of shock, "that has got to be one of the most dangerous thing I've ever heard of?"
"I… I agree," she whispered, "my Father says it was buried in an old tomb that has been lost for ages. He stumbled upon it quite by accident, but mentioned that he has already received a substantial offer for it. Maybe even enough to close up shop and disappear for the rest of his life."
"Ellie, if someone foolish, or worse, were to get their hands on this… I hate to think of what could happen."
"What should we do," Elwyna asked intently. "I mean if someone is willing to offer my father that much money, then I have a hard time believing they're up to anything good. Not that I mind a bit of mayhem in the world, but this would put someone in the same league as Albus Dimwit-dore or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. That's not a good thing, even in my twisted little book."
Gevin thought for a moment and suddenly his face lit up.
"I have a friend of sorts," Gevin cautiously offered. "They're a student at Hogwart's. I'll ask him to wander into the library there and see what they can find out about it. Let's just hope there's a way to destroy this thing without getting ourselves killed."
"Why are you helping me Gevin?" Elwyna asked with obvious mistrust in her voice.
"Because, I like you Ellie."
"Why on earth do you call me Ellie?! No one calls me Ellie!" she retorted waspishly.
"That's exactly why I call you that. It's my nickname for you. It sort of gives me a piece of you that no one else can have."
"Just exactly how is that you like me anyway?"
"Oh, in all sorts of unhealthy and unnatural ways. If I had my way, you'd belong to me."
Elwyna looked at him intensely for a moment. She noticed that he had an odd smirk on his face. "You're not entirely kidding are you?"
"I have no idea," he slyly replied, "why do you ask?"
"You are quite evil when you put your mind to it, dear Gevin. I may have to… take measures to protect myself. I don't think I trust you very much."
"Oh, Ellie, if I was going to spirit you away and make you my personal House-Elf, don't you think I would have done that by now?"
"I'd like to see you try, you arrogant fop!"
"Ellie," he lashed out, "I am quite fond of you and have been for sometime. Just let it go at that."
For a moment her features softened. She chewed on his words for a bit.
"I fully expect you to steal me away from all of this some day. If you don't, I'll know you are a liar. Are you a liar Gevin?"
He did not answer her. He stared at the chest for awhile and then turned and walked out of the store. As he left, her eyes followed him. She wondered what his game might be. She played the part of evil daughter well enough, but the disguise was beginning to wear around the edges. Gevin always seemed to bring out the softer side of her nature. In a way she liked it; in another it made her want to strangle him where he stood.
--- ---
Deep in thought, Gevin quickly ran across the street and ducked into his room at the inn. He picked up a piece of parchment and a quill and drew out the chest and its strange rune as best he could. He also jotted down everything he could think of about it. He needed to find out more about this thing. He began to wonder who was so interested in it. He knew little about why his Uncle disappeared, but he was starting to fear the worst.
"What if," he spoke to himself, "…what if?"
His thoughts immediately went to Elwyna. He wished he didn't think she was so pretty. She was a difficult distraction for him. Not to mention, he feared that if he ever gave in to that distraction it would be the best day of his life, and knowing Elwyna, possibly the last day of his life. He shut her out of his mind for the moment. He checked his calendar and sure enough, tomorrow was the day the Hogwart's students went to Hogsmeade. He had already planned to be there for other reasons. There always seemed to be kids from the school who seemed to know what was going on in the world. He often would just blend in and listen to whatever scraps he could get.
He would need to get there and find his 'friend'. The boy had been helpful to him in the past and hoped he would prove to be useful again. He worried if he had enough information for him to track down anything useful. Evil things have a peculiar way of protecting themselves. It can be very dangerous to try and destroy or disarm them. He thought about dropping the thing off at the ministry of magic, but feared that one of his Uncle's cronies would get their hands on it, before it could be dealt with. He had a new fear gnawing at him now as well, what if Voldemort really was back and knew about the chest. Things would already be in motion. Time was terrifyingly short. Unfortunately, it had to wait until tomorrow.
Gevin laid himself in the small bed in the corner of the room. He sat staring at the ceiling and let his mind wander. There were old cobwebs, long since abandoned hanging from the wooden ceiling. He felt the cool evening air blowing in through the small shutter window. He pondered his strange, new life living on the fringe of everything. In some ways he liked it, but he missed his old life. It was far from perfect, but at least he wasn't in perpetual hiding. Thanks to his Uncle, he had come under a dark cloud of suspicion. His own parents long since dead, there really was not anywhere for him to be right now. So, here was as good as any he figured. If things started to get really bad, he had planned on disappearing out of the country altogether.
He thought again about Elwyna and it started to tug at his mind a bit. He blinked his eyes hard to get her image out of his head. He couldn't let himself become too attached. He might have to disappear completely and knew he couldn't take her with him. She was very pretty though, he fancied running away from it all with her. That would be nice, he thought. He rolled over in exasperation with himself and tried hard to sleep, but it wasn't working out very well. He sighed quietly and lay there until he finally closed his eyes until morning would arrive.
--- ---
Gevin never saw the dark figure steal into his room. The man crept in through the window in a most unnatural way. He surveyed the room and saw what he had expected. The boy had enough money to pay for various wards around the room. If he had apparated in they would have alerted him immediately. He chuckled softly to himself and for a brief moment considered ending everything here and now, but he kept his hand still. This worthless nephew of Augustus could become a useful pawn.
The boy was virtually unknown to the ministry. His Uncle did well by hiding the fact that he had been living with him all this time. Now, nothing more than a Knockturn riff-raff, he could come and go pretty much as he pleased. This made him an invaluable tool. A tool to be manipulated and used as the Circle saw fit. He scribbled something on a small scrap of paper and laid it on the rickety nightstand beside the bed.
"What will you do," the ominous presence whispered. "Who will you choose to serve in the end, and will your choice even matter. I think not, too many things have already been set in motion. Remember, we are watching you… always."
Gevin stirred in his sleep, but did not wake. His hand instinctually wrapped around his wand, hidden under his pillow, but then he slowly drifted back into slumber. The shadowy form slipped out the window where he had come in and disappeared into the night. Gevin never knew how lucky he was that his hastily written notes about the dark artifact had gone unnoticed.
--- ---
The morning had finally come and Gevin slowly felt himself waking up. He noticed he had left the window open. A stupid mistake he thought. Apparently it had not mattered. All of his wards were still in place. He pulled himself up and took in the cool air. Across the room on a small end-table were his notes. He began to stand up when he turned and looked to his left. A piece of paper caught his eye and he paused.
"I don't remember leaving anything there," he whispered to himself.
He reached down and picked it up. There was some writing on it…