Good Things Come to Those Who Wait

[Dale Matthews]

((All of this has been okayed by the admins so far. I’m sorry for the long-winded and poorly flowing first post… I intended to put more work into it but a certain potential target has been bugging me to post it. By all means this thread is “open”, because I don’t think it could be plausibly done any other way, but I would very much appreciate and recommend PMing me first. There are some ties to this story that run a little deeper than even Dale realizes at this point, but which I can’t say here without spoiling his intentions just yet. ))

It was the fourth of May – the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, and Dale Matthews had murder on the mind. He had informed the Death Eaters the night before of his plans to enter the castle while the rest of the school was at the ceremonies commemorating the Battle, wait until his target returned, then kill them, and escape, probably under nightfall, before anyone noticed that anything was awry.

Getting past the front gate was easy enough. The overlarge crowds meant that entry could only mean a scan from a Probity Probe for each patron. They were the same kind as those once found on the entrance to Gringott’s, and therefore still rather effective at detecting hidden magical objects and spells of concealment. But Dale needn’t magically disguise himself – his shaved head, blonde wig, muggle makeup job and large golden glasses did the job just nicely. He had scoffed at a small collection of young female witches rounded up by the security team, who had decided to employ some ‘beauty-enhancing’ transfiguration and as such were now being held until they could be properly identified.

Moving from the crowd to the castle proved more difficult. The entrance was guarded, and the guests had been rounded up like sheep. But, like most any secure operation, despite the large force of security and a collection of Aurors, there were always holes. A large set of outdoor toilets had been established near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and Dale decided to hide in one of them, performed an adequate Disillusionment Charm, then unlocked the door and momentarily confounded the next person who entered so as to allow himself to slip past unnoticed. He crawled away until he was out of sight, and waited under a shady spot near the front entrance to the castle.

There he waited, and waited for the remainder of the morning and into the afternoon, waited for his opportunity. His biggest enemy was not those guarding the door but rather his own impatience. For awhile, he was afraid he might have to perform the Imperius Curse on one of the security officers guarding the site, which could well be disastrous as he was not very adept with it. That was until a young Auror, full of bravado and authority, told the two security officers to stand aside and allow her into the castle so as to perform a scan of the premises. The two large doors swung open for her and Dale rushed inside, the sounds of his footfalls hidden behind the Muffiliato hex, a gem he had held onto since his time in his youth with Snape.

Crouching in the entry hall behind the Slytherin house points hourglass (which Dale found was disappointingly empty), Dale took a moment to really think. Though it had been many hours, Dale’s entire day up until that point had involved him focusing his efforts on getting into the castle. Now that he was in there, the plan seemed all that more daunting. It was a crime of passion, and in his excitement he hadn’t really considered the many glaring flaws in his plan. But Dale was determined, and he was no quitter. There was no way out now, even if he sought one.

Once he was sure that the Auror was well and truly gone, and he would not be spotted or heard, Dale set off in an alternate direction, wand in hand and Disillusionment Charm in place. It seemed the whole place was ghastly empty, and it unnerved out even Dale a little. He traveled up stairs, along hallways, through rooms… It had been a long time since he had been at Hogwarts, and he was little more skilled at navigating it than a first year. It was going to take awhile.

[Oliver Torlen]

A small figure stepped into the hallway behind Dale, looking around expectantly, his boots seeming not to make a sound as gently traversed Hogwarts. He was wrapped in a dark, long coat and look particularly somber and cold for someone so young. His eyes glanced around the hallways, filled with a misty knowledge and determination. He could See things, like his grandpa. And he had Seen this.

"I know who you're after," Oliver called out softly, not wanting to alert anyone but still wanting to be heard. For all his determination, he was rather cautious. His fingers were twitching and he wriggled his toes inside his boots. He knew the man would be here. He knew what would happen next.

There were some things you couldn't avoid.

[Dale Matthews]

Dale turned on his heel, with a sharp intake of breath, his wand pointed directly at the boy. He wasn't messing about; if he had to step over more bodies to get to his target then he would not hesitate to do so. He could feel the panic rising in his chest. If one child had stayed behind in the castle, how many more could there be?

His immediate split second instinct was to stun the boy, but he stopped himself as the words registered. "What?" he spat, not wanting to speak too loudly. "I can assure you, lad, I am not playing games." He slowly began closing the gap between them threateningly.

[Oliver Torlen]

Oliver turned to face the voice and wasn't surprised to recognize the shape emerging from the background. Like an actor to a play, Oliver thought bitterly. "You're going to kill someone. I know who. They aren't where you think they are and if you go where they really are, you won't make it." He started to walk down the hallway.

"Follow me." His voice floated over and seemed devoid of emotion. Oliver was scared shitless, he felt himself shivering, but this was really the only thing that gave him confidence. Fulfilling his prophecies and visions.

[Dale Matthews]

"No - stop!" Dale, frustrated and confused, flourished his wand at the boy. Oliver flipped upwards so that he was hovering on his stomach in mid-air, facing Dale. Levicorpus. "First, explain yourself! What makes you think you know me?" he hissed. "If you're here on account of Deneuve, you'd be best to tell me now!"

[Oliver Torlen]

"My name is Oliver Torlen," Oliver replied coldly and with great dignity, considering his position. "I am a Seer and I Saw me leading you to the person you intend to kill. So I will lead you." His dark, long coat was flapping in mid-air and his brown hair was now ruffled, but his grey eyes remained with the same piercing knowledge.

He knew how this would end. This was a test of what he believed in. He had to ensure his Vision played out. He was Fate's tool. Destiny's weapon.

[Dale Matthews]

Dale's brow furrowed. "So you're fulfilling your own prophecy... by helping me commit a murder?"

It didn't make sense to Dale. It seemed like... he was taking it upon himself to enact what he Saw. He thought that the kid's rather basic explanation might have just been poorly understood, but he had a sort of grave, sagely look on his face that indicated he knew exactly what he was doing. If so, was that his sole purpose here? The kid fulfilled his own prophecy... so the only reason that the prophecy was being fulfilled was because he had seen it? Dale was no bonehead but this kid left him dazed.

After a good few moments of straining to achieve comprehension, Dale decided it was safe to let Oliver down. Safer in any case than remaining here in plain sight, discussing concepts of time and circular logic with a fifteen-year-old, when any number of adversaries could round the corner at any moment. He was still wary of what this kid might be up to, so he kept his wand aimed at his back.

"Okay." Dale said. "I... I guess you know where I want you to take me then, don't you? Can you take me there, O-" Oliver. The word froze in Dale's throat and an expression of shock swept across his face. "Pardon me, what did you say your name was again?"

[Oliver Torlen]

"Oliver," the boy answered. "Oliver Torlen." He began to walk down the hallway, quickly at first but then slower. He was filled with dread and uncertainty about what he was going to do. He was leading this complete stranger to murder someone. More than that, that someone- he couldn't even think about it.

As much as he tried to rid himself of the guilt, he couldn't help but feel what he was doing was completely wrong. It was his duty, as a Seer, to make sure his Visions came to be. It wasn't his fault. This was a sacrifice Fate demanded.

They reached a flight of stairs and Oliver began to climb, each step weighing heavily on his heart.

[Dale Matthews]

Dale was dumbstruck. He had a sense that he was getting himself into something far worse than he'd prepared for. Why Oliver Torlen, of all people? Was he walking into a trap? He should have known better than to try and assassinate a Seer. Or was fate really such a heinous bitch that she would force Oliver to deliver his own grandfather's murderer?

Not knowing what else he could possibly do at this point, Dale kept quiet and followed behind Oliver with his wand pointed to him.

"Oliver..." Dale said suddenly. "Where are you taking me?"

[Oliver Torlen]

Oliver wasn't sure how long they'd been climbing the stairs when Dale finally asked where he was taking him. "The Astronomy Tower," he informed him, stopping suddenly. "It's just another floor up. He's there, waiting for you." The full weight of everything hit Oliver then and he collapsed to his knees on the stairs, tears welling. His grief quickly turned to anger and he pounded the stairs with his fists, his hands quickly becoming bloody. A moment of silence in his mind, then Oliver stood up again, staring directly into Dale's eyes.

"This is where I leave you," he went to push past Dale, so he could hide in the Common Room, cry and mourn for his best friend who wasn't dead yet. This was all too real.

[Dale Matthews]

Dale watched in stunned silence as Oliver collapsed to his knees. When the boy made to pass him on the narrow staircase, Dale instinctively pinned himself against the wall so that Oliver wouldn't have to touch him and get blood on his robes. Then he remembered what he was here to do, and almost laughed at his own prudishness. Dale felt pity for the boy, but not guilt. He had moved beyond guilt a long time ago.

Dale made his way to the platform at the top of the stairs, wand at the ready.

[Nickarlen "Goldeye" Torlen]

Goldeye had furnished the platform appropriately as he waited for his would-be killer. He had started by summoning his favourite armchair from his office, a giant red cushy thing, that he faced to the open side of the Tower. Through it, he could see the mountains on the horizon. He'd never really seen that many mountains, actually, outside of Europe. He'd never found them that interesting until precisely this moment. Another regret to add to the list.

There was a richly decorated rug underneath the chair, Persian, and he had even placed a a small table next to the couch, where he had a place to put his cup he had obtained from the drinks cabinet at the back of the room. Next to the door where Dale would enter, a grandfather clock stood, steadily ticking. There was a lot of symbolism in that, Goldeye believed, but he felt there would be more if he replaced the clock with, say, an hour glass. But he didn't want to be too blatant with the poetry of the moment, so he decided to just leave the clock as it was.

Deciding what clothes to wear on your Deathday was a difficult decision that few people had the opportunity to make. All too often people would die in hospital gowns, or military uniforms, or grey prison clothing or in their evening wear. In any case, this was a luxury he had and had not intended to waste. He was wearing a rich black robe with silver lining (he always had a silver lining), formal black shoes and his wedding ring. And that was it. He enjoyed the simplicity but also the formality of the garb. He was just considering adding curtains to his new accommodations when he heard footsteps approaching. He grimaced, then recovered himself into a poise of calm and patience.

"Come in," he called. He felt a shiver run down his spine. Cold, fear, excitement? He really couldn't tell.

[Dale Matthews]

Dale had been hoping to surprise Goldeye and disarm him. He wasn't planning on being welcomed in, let alone led to his door, and didn't quite know how to react. Each step towards his victim that he took was slow and deliberate. The floorboards creaked underneath him, the clock ticked, the wind whistled, Dale's heart pounded, noone spoke a word. He felt as though he was more open to his senses, that this would be one of those moments in his life he'd be able to recall forever with total clarity.

He held his wand at the ready, with two hands. The eccentricities of the room and the spectacular view of the grounds failed to draw Dale away from Goldeye's gaze.

"Expelliarmus!" He cried, finally, apparently deciding it was a good idea after all. Goldeye's wand flew from it's holder and rolled dangerously close to the edge of the balcony. Dale summoned the wand with the Accio charm and then put both of them away inside his robes.

"Hi, Nick." He began. "My name is Dale Matthews. You might remember me."

[Nickarlen "Goldeye" Torlen]

Goldeye watched his wand fly to the edge of the ledge, boredom clouding his features. "There was no need for that," Goldeye scolded. "Now you've gone and put it on the floor. Elm, 9"1 inches, you know, Dragon Heartstring. I've had it for, oh, sixty-nine years now. A reliable companion. Never failed me." He looked up to face his assailant, grey eyes mistily examining him.

"Well, you're obviously not my first kiss. She would have reason to kill me though, it was terrible. Tongues went everywhere. I can't really think of anyone else who'd want to murder me, however," Goldeye mused. He knew what he was doing, he was riling this man up. Making him angry. Hopefully the murder would be less satisfactory then. And it was satisfaction he was looking for, otherwise Goldeye would be dead already.

[Dale Matthews]

Dale cringed. He balled his fists up by his sides. Already he didn't like how this was going.

"Professor Torlen," Dale's voice was polite, his body language anything but, as he moved across the room towards Goldeye. "You ARE going to die today. I get the impression you already know this, you've probably already resigned to the fact. But you and I both know there's still more that I can take from you, isn't there? If you want to be the only one to die, and with dignity, then you might want to cut your trademark... wit."