Five galleons worth of parchment, copied and printed from articles that Artemius had painstakingly written with the fervish accuracy of one whose entire livelihood was standing on penmanship. The draft was written and rewritten and rewritten and rewritten until he'd had the nerve to share with his mother for review, and then revised again twice more. Now, after several failed attempts (his perfection was simply too much when so much was on the line) he'd made a printable hardcopy, and had printed the small leaflets according the spell he'd been given by that kindest of souls -- Fletcher Parish. God bless him, and his family. Now, a promise was in his hands, and although it was just ink and magic and parchment, each leaflet was a promise.

The stand was modest -- borrowed from a shopkeep who really didn't care about its shabby, wobbly foundation; to Artemius, though, it was like an altar of hope on which he laid his final sacrifice -- his last chance to fix this. He'd even put an extra barrier of protection on each piece of paper, so that should any calloused heart discard it, it could easily be retrieved, renewed, and sold again. He would have no knut wasted of Parish's donation.

A deep breath, and then he looked out at the lightly crowded street. He swallowed, and then began to shout, "What is lycanthropy? A disease that can rack every member of this community, when let loose! Pain and suffering, not only physically, but emotionally -- an entire culture that treats you like a leper! We're trying to find the cure for this disease, and a home for those already suffer, and a place to give them back their hope and humanity! Donate to the cause, and every knut and sickle goes straight into the funding for this cure! It's just around the corner, and we only need your help to save so many who already suffer from this terrible curse!"

It was poetic, and desperate, but by God, he was going to do it. He had to.

The gig that evening wasn't for another four hours, but Eltanin was already dressed, lacking only his hat, sword, and instrument. Meggie had the hat and was fashioning a new hatband, the old one having broken the previous evening. Logan, as Weaponsmaster, kept the swords with him. Kuma had his guitar and dulcimer, since he invariariably forgot to bring one or the other and had to improvise when they were asked to play part of their repertoire they hadn't planned on. In the end, it was easier for Kuma to keep track of all their instruments. Fran had gone to replace her corset and Jackie was currently sitting in the kitchen of the house they all shared, swearing at the sewing machine as she tried to repair splits in her pants. Despite being taller than his cousins and his wife, Eltanin seemed to be underfoot wherever he went, so he had whimsically requested permission of his cousin to go to Diagon Alley for a bit.

He was attracting some attention, no doubt, as he strolled cheerfully through the cobblestone streets. His flowing pirate shirt, trousers, and boots were not the norm for the Alley, where people more frequently wore robes or work uniforms (which were usually robes, but never mind that). At least he had cut his hair--he'd worn it long until about a year ago, and with it tied back with a leather thong or loose about his shoulders, people had occasionally crossed the road to avoid him, as though he were a real pirate. Such stares were even worse when Meggie was with him, as she wore a ragged castaway dress tied at the waist with a cob of rope. Well, let them stare. Eltanin was proud of his job.

As he paused outside Flourish and Blotts, contemplating a new book, he heard a voice calling from not too far away. At first the words didn't register, but suddenly the word lycanthropy penetrated his consciousness and he whirled around, searching for the source of the voice. He headed towards a section of the street people seemed to be avoiding, listening as he did to the speech.

"...We're trying to find the cure for this disease, and a home for those already suffer, and a place to give them back their hope and humanity! Donate to the cause, and every knut and sickle goes straight into the funding for this cure! It's just around the corner, and we only need your help to save so many who already suffer from this terrible curse!"

Eltanin paused sympathetically. He thought of Sarah, a friend of his from St. Mungo's...and Aronel...and Molly...and everyone else he knew. Moving out of the flow of the foot traffic, he began digging through the leather bag attached to his belt, where he kept a few coins, and dredged up a couple of Sickles. It was the least he could do for a worthy cause.

He was starting to cross the street again to speak to the shopkeeper when something about the boy caught his eye. That face...surely he knew that fellow? The shopkeeper began his spiel again, and suddenly Eltanin knew who the guy was.

"Shrike?" he called, dodging through people to get to the stall. "Artemius Baxby, is that you?"

"Shrike? Artemius Baxby, is that you?"

Shrike? Artemius stopped his speech -- he wasn't getting anywhere, anyway. What four sickles he'd "earned" were tossed at him to shut him up. His eyes scanned the crowd as he reluctantly lowered the pamphlet -- curse his dad for leaving him picking up the pieces, RIP.

Pulling through the crowd was someone dressed as -- no, there was no other way to describe it. A pirate of some kind. Flowing shirt, trousers, boots -- and not the heeled, shiny kind, but the kind that were greased and dusty and actually used -- the shirt something out of the seventeenth century.

Artemius found his face contorting in surprise at the sight, and then at the face that wore such a costume. Only one person called him 'Shrike', and that was --

"Eltanin?" He blinked for a moment, holding his eyes closed for a second before looking back up at him. "You're... a pirate." He was, needless to say, surprised. I mean, he was a security guard at the Ministry, doubtless and out of character act, but a pirate... well, he was very surprised. He found himself laughing. "Why the hell are you dressed as a pirate, if you forgive my rudeness and my French?" He was flabbergasted. Of all people, he didn't expect to see his old schoolmate, least of all in pirate garb.

Artemius's face shifted in surprise, and Eltanin breathed a silent sigh of relief. He'd cut his hair and lost a bit of muscle--he didn't fly much anymore--and to be perfectly honest, he'd been afraid his old friend wouldn't recognize him. The shock on his face said that he did, and also that the changes in Eltanin surprised him.

"Eltanin?" He blinked for a moment, holding his eyes closed for a second before looking back up at him. "You're... a pirate. Why the hell are you dressed as a pirate, if you forgive my rudeness and my French?"

Eltanin grinned. "You haven't seen the full effect. I've also got a sword and a hat that would put anything Gred ever wore to a school dance to shame. And don't worry about the rudeness--it's a fair question if you don't pay attention to music, which as I recall, you do. Surely you've heard of Rovers' Revenge? Well, you're looking at the lead guitarist, dulcimer...ist, and male vocalist." Purely out of mischief, he added, "I'm thinking of getting a tattoo to add to my factors of intimidation. What do you think, would a frog be suitably terrifying?"

He studied the stack of papers on the stand. He almost said something to the effect of "don't tell me you're in the newspaper business", but for once, he thought before he spoke and curbed his tongue. Artemius was clearly struggling to sell the leaflets--all the stacks were even, and unless he had developed OCD in the years since graduating, Eltanin doubted his friend had sold papers evenly off of the stack. Instead he opted for a more neutral statement. "You should come to our concert tonight, strictly wizards only. Bring a stack of your papers. We tend to attract people with strong opinions...you'll either sell 'em all or get lynched."

Rubbing the back of his neck, he squinted up at the sun and then turned back to Artemius. "Can you take a couple of minutes for a cup of coffee or a drink or something? I feel like we've got a lot to talk about and I'm not so sure we want to stand in the middle of Diagon Alley talking about it. If you wanna stand here we can, but I've got a few tips from the last show burning a hole in my pocket."

Eltanin grinned. "You haven't seen the full effect."

Artemius chuckled. "Should I be concerned?" he asked. "What's missing?"

"Well, I've also got a sword and a hat that would put anything Gred ever wore to a school dance to shame."

At that, Artemius mind was presented with the image of the flamboyant Slytherin in a particularly garish purple pimp suit that he'd worn to one Halloween ball. Immediately, he burst into laughter. "I do have to say, pirate does kind of beat pimp in the surprise factor," he replied around his laughing. "Hee hee! That's fantastic, that is." And Artemius had always thought himself the dramatic one.

"As it is, surely you've heard of Rovers' Revenge? Well, you're looking at the lead guitarist, dulcimer...ist, and male vocalist."

Artemius' jaw dropped. He only managed enough obsession with a band to know the members' names if he'd somehow met the band in person. He'd of course heard the music, but had not learned their names. If he'd noticed, he surely would've taken an effort to go to their shows and meet up with the old friend. "Well, bloody hell, El. I knew you were musically talented, but... well, hell. I didn't know you were with Rovers' Revenge! Man, now I have to go to the shows! When is the next one?"

As it was, a devilish grin overcame Artemius' friend's face. "I'm thinking of getting a tattoo to add to my factors of intimidation. What do you think, would a frog be suitably terrifying?"

Artemius glared at him at him, but only answered with a warningly sharkish grin and a wagging finger. "I daresay you would be a mockery to pirates everywhere if you did that, and if you did it purely in my honour, I'd have to kill you, much as it pains me."

"You should come to our concert tonight, strictly wizards only. Bring a stack of your papers. We tend to attract people with strong opinions...you'll either sell 'em all or get lynched."

"Well, that's... reassuring," Artemius replied, laughing. It was true that that was El's sense of humour... but knowing how things were these days, he didn't find it hard to believe. "Tonight, you say? Where at? I'd love to see you perform in person." He didn't very often get out to do things like that anymore -- particularly in the last month or so. In fact, he couldn't remember the last fun thing he did, as going to work, shopping, and drinking two rum-and-colas every night after work were all probably far from fun, by any standards. Well, the drinking could be better, if he'd drink something that was actually tasty.

"Can you take a couple of minutes for a cup of coffee or a drink or something? I feel like we've got a lot to talk about and I'm not so sure we want to stand in the middle of Diagon Alley talking about it. If you wanna stand here we can, but I've got a few tips from the last show burning a hole in my pocket."

"Err... sure. I have the day off, so... I guess I can kind of get up and leave if I wanted to." Artemius looked to his papers with disappointment, but it was true that he was having no luck. He gave his friend a sheepish grin and gathered the priceless pamphlets and deposited them inside a coat pocket that, although it appeared on the outside to be Muggle, was decidedly Wizarding, and much bigger on the inside. The stall was wrapped under his arm after being shrunken and made featherweight for his convenience. He then turned back. "What say you to the Leaky Cauldron? I'm staying there, presently. I'll drop off my things and we can hang out at the bar, yeah?" It was out his mouth and he bit his lower lip as he realised how sad he sounded. Artemius Baxby living out of a pub? It was rather pathetic, he had to admit, and he was raised for better, but it was all he and his mum could do at the moment until they saved enough money for a decent place to live in...

((OOC: I take it we'll be moving this to Diagon Alley?))

Eltanin's grin widened when Artemius burst into laughter. "I do have to say, pirate does kind of beat pimp in the surprise factor," he replied around his laughing. "Hee hee! That's fantastic, that."

"Yeah, the pimp suit was rather impressive," Eltanin agreed. "I still say nothing will ever beat the suit he wore to the EOT banquet that year my head of house set up an 'orchestra', you remember? It surprised the hell out of everybody, because it was normal. Not something you'd associate with that boy." An affectionate smile tugged at Eltanin's mouth and he wondered where his goofy friend was today.

After a bit more banter, Artemius dithered for a bit and finally accepted Eltanin's offer of a get-together, then packed up his stall. Eltanin was mildly impressed by his friend's efficiency. "What say you to the Leaky Cauldron? I'm staying there, presently. I'll drop off my things and we can hang out at the bar, yeah?"

Eltanin tried--and failed--not to look shocked. Had he heard properly? Artemius Baxby was staying in the Leaky Cauldron? Something wasn't right about that. Even if Artemius--for some reason--couldn't stay with his mum, he'd never stay in a pub. Something truly awful must have happened to his friend, and suddenly Eltanin wanted to have a drink with him more than ever. "Sure, the Leaky's fine. I'll walk back there with you and...I guess I'll nab us a couple seats at the bar while you drop your stuff off? We can chat more when you get back."

Not knowing quite what else to do, Eltanin checked to make sure his friend had everything, and then started up the street towards the pub. The streets were getting a bit more crowded by now--not much, but enough--so Eltanin didn't say anything on the walk back to the pub. He nabbed a couple of seats at one end, ordered a mug of butterbeer, and waited for Artemius to come back down.

((OOC: No, we can continue the thread right here...we just know it's moved into the Leaky Cauldron. Hope you don't mind that I kind of rushed the actual walk over along...))

((Not at all.))

"I'll be just a tick." Artemius excused himself and hurried up the steps, ashamed of the dingy walls that were presently his home. Penance or not, he still felt rather trodden upon by the world, and the dark setting bothered him a little more than usual. Even as he found his room and unlocked the door -- giving it a good shove to open it -- he deposited his stand by the door, looking out depressingly at the room.

The bed was on the side -- a King. He shared with his mother, technically, but usually, either of them were working, so they actually hadn't slept together for some time. Their baggage was in a corner, empty husks gathering dust but holding a saddened promise of leaving this place one day. Clothes in the old, faded wooden chests, whilst dirty laundry gathered meekly in another corner. The fire on the other wall also had contraptions for a little cooking and a well abused teapot. In fact, they were running low on Earl Grey... He was supposed to have gotten some while in town. Oh well.

When Artemius returned, Eltanin had nabbed a table with two chairs on one end of the pub. As he passed the bar, he ordered a butterbeer as well, and joined his friend.

He tried his best to grin. "So. How've things been for you since Hogwarts?" Artemius asked. "I see you have a band, but... what about everything else? How are Kuma and all other crazies you used to live with?" Artemius grinned at the memory of the strange ones he'd once met at a birthday party for his Slytherin friend.

Eltanin raised his mug to Artemius's as the other man joined him at the table. "To youth and freedom," he proclaimed, repeating one of the pirate toasts the band often used. Under the circumstances, the other one seemed heartless. Kuma and Logan had both acquired a taste for rum, but Eltanin could never learn to like the taste of alcohol.

"So. How've things been for you since Hogwarts?" Artemius asked. "I see you have a band, but... what about everything else? How are Kuma and all other crazies you used to live with?"

Eltanin set down his mug. "They're fine. Kuma's in the band too--she plays fiddle. My cousin Jackie--I don't think you ever met my other cousins, did you? Jackie's a year younger than I am, and her brother Logan is three years younger than she is...they're my uncle Kalb's kids...and then there's Fran, Frannie DiMaggio, she's my Aunt Azzie's daughter, she's Logan's age. Anyway, Fran plays the accordion, and Logan plays the spoons...Jackie sings."

He looked down at his hands, at the thin, plain band of gold, and then looked up at his friend. "Um, I don't know how to tell you this without feeling guilty as hell because I didn't invite you, but if it makes you feel better it was just a private civil ceremony and nobody but the band came, but...er...I got married about two years ago." The last came out in a rush. "You remember when you visited me in Mungo's, when I got my leg amputated--the girl in the bed next to mine, the one who had The Grey? Megan Mills? They found a cure for The Grey a few years back, and she came to stay with me, and...we got married just after Rovers' Revenge put out our first album." A warm smile lit up Eltanin's face. "We're expecting our first child in September."

He tried to remember what else he'd been up to since he'd last seen his friend and couldn't come up with anything. "I think that's everything I've been up to...what about you? How's life been treating you? What have you been doing since graduation?"

Eltanin had a nasty feeling he didn't want to know the answer to those questions, but Artemius was his friend, and if he needed help, Eltanin would do all he could.

"To youth and freedom"

It was a nice phrase. Artemius echoed, and made a note to himself to not forget it.

The usual pleasantries. Eltanin jabbered on about the huge family of his, all the cousins and nuiances, and mentioning the band numerous times. To be honest, Artemius had never seen them perform, and so, the faceless names floated right by him, but he smiled and listened approvingly nonetheless. It was a little while until Eltanin finally got to the golden wedding band on his hand -- which Artemius had noticed on their walk back.

"Um, I don't know how to tell you this without feeling guilty as hell because I didn't invite you, but if it makes you feel better it was just a private civil ceremony and nobody but the band came, but...er..."[/i]

Artemius grinned broadly. The fellow had the sense to be ashamed. Now, that was a breath of fresh air, and proof that this was the same rascally old Slytherin he'd gone to school with. He chuckled and waved away. "You don't have to apologise to me, man," he interrupted. Let the boy get on with it. Nice as manners were (and irritating when forgotten in decent public) they were friends, and he understood. El had a big enough family, and he was a quite guy who enjoyed his privacy. "I know how it is, you're fine."

The suspected announcement came out in a rush -- two years ago. Artemius nodded approvingly. Two years and still married. They say lots of couples didn't last much longer than that. But, he was sure El could pull it through. Provided his wife was as good a person as he was.

"You remember when you visited me in Mungo's, when I got my leg amputated--the girl in the bed next to mine, the one who had The Grey? Megan Mills? They found a cure for The Grey a few years back, and she came to stay with me, and..."

"Oh yeah, I remember that," Artemius remarked kindly. He did, very vaguely, but then, he did read the Prophet. His mother had mentioned it, probably, too. Back then, he hadn't paid much attention, now. Her Healing was still a sort of part time fancy, far off in Wales. God, it seemed so far away...

"...we got married just after Rovers' Revenge put out our first album." A warm smile lit up Eltanin's face. "We're expecting our first child in September."

At that, Artemius found himself pulled back, with a startling jolt. "Beg your pardon?" Child? First child? IE, Eltanin was going to be a father? He chuckled, still shocked. "Wow. A kid. That's... that's a big step." Nope. He was stuck in his marriage now. Hope he picked a good match. "Err... congratulations." His grin was sincere, but a big lost. Golly, El was going to be a father. And he didn't even have a girlfriend yet. Boy, was that depressing...

Eltanin just shrugged it off. "But that's everything I've been up to...what about you? How's life been treating you? What have you been doing since graduation?"

Inevitable. Artemius didn't even notice the nervous hand that made its way to the back of his neck as he started his answer. "Well... graduated. You know that part." He grinned. "Head back to the Cottage... Aronel got married that spring..." ...but her husband was lost in the fire... "...I started working full time at the Cottage, fixing stuff and in general playing nursemaid and crazy son," he answered, nodding. "Erm... Got my liscense, for construction Charms. Basically, I'm legally allowed to build a house with Magic, if you need any repairs or the like in the future. Most of the stuff I did was repairwork for the Shed, minor rebuilding, but I know how to do it, and it's of the quality that you have minimal repair after a full moon, which is saying something," he added, chuckling. Say what you will, those were strong spells. That shed lasted every full moon with only minor scratches and the like, and usually that was when a couple of the older lycans decided to scuffle to pass the time. "Not a whole lot, really... Everything was pretty much the same for the last few years..." Patients going in and out, repairs ever made... "We finally got rid of Rufus, though," he added with a smirk. Grouchy old cat. "His sentence ran out about six months ago." Actually... it was seven, now. God, so long... "Same old, same old, until that damn week came along."

Here, his eyes darkened. The screaming, the fire, the weeping, the gnashing of teeth... and then the forbidding silence. His home in ruins. A quartet arriving at the Baxby homestead in Ireland with their tails between their legs. Molly and Aronel couldn't stay. They were sent away. Pitying family, with "I-told-you-so"s in their eyes, but only the bittersweet, arsenic ridden sympathies leaving their mouths. Their hypocrisy made it worse. His father's funeral, and the scared, polite gestures. Packing up and moving to the Cauldron, when his mother could no longer stand her in-laws' disapproving eyes. The last stroke was still unknown, but then they'd come here. Tried to start again.

Artemius gave a cough as the feeling caught in his throat and he looked back up to his friend, softening the hatred and trying to dispell it completely for El's sake. He was tired and weary, and just wanted to go home. "Did you, ah... did you get an invitation to my father's funeral?" That whole two and a half week period was a blur. He didn't even quite remember who all had come and who hadn't. But he remembered Tolfus, the only wizard to survive the fire in town. And Willoughby, passing on the family business to the next of kin. Bastard. Parish so far was about the best thing to happen to him. Well, and that pretty novelist he'd met the other night...

Eltanin listened with a slight grin to Artemius's description of his family, chuckling when he said they'd finally gotten rid of Rufus. "Finally shuffled off the ol' mortal coil, did he? I swear the few times I met him I thought he'd live forever, just to spite you."

The grin faded when Artemius asked if he'd got the invitation to his father's funeral. "Yes, I did. Aunt Nash and I went together--I mean, I guess you know that your mum and Aunt Nash went to school together, they were friends of a sort. We got a chance to talk to your mum, but you were...kind of in a fog, and your mum said you weren't really in a communicative mood, so we let you be. I've been wondering how you've been doing."

Part of Eltanin wondered why he hadn't said anything right away--most people would have immediately expressed their sympathies. He remembered when his parents had died--people coming up to him at the funeral and afterwards and saying how sorry they were and how upset he must be. He had come to resent them all. Yes, it was horrible, but he was never going to get over the loss if people kept teling him how horrible it was.

Maybe that was why he hadn't mentioned it. Maybe subconsciously he had been trying to help his friend to heal.

"I'm really sorry, mate," he said softly. "I know how horrible it feels. At least you still have your mum, right? Trust me, that's something."

"Finally shuffled off the ol' mortal coil, did he? I swear the few times I met him I thought he'd live forever, just to spite you."

"Yep. It was strange to not have to endure his sarcasm and cynicism anymore..."

"Yes, I did. Aunt Nash and I went together--I mean, I guess you know that your mum and Aunt Nash went to school together, they were friends of a sort. We got a chance to talk to your mum, but you were...kind of in a fog, and your mum said you weren't really in a communicative mood, so we let you be. I've been wondering how you've been doing."

Artemius sighed. "Horrible, truth be told. I took a lousy job as a security guard for the Ministry of Magic," he growled. "And it looks like I'm going to have to play Blake Baxby to get the money for a new Cottage. Which explains my silly money mongering stunt earlier." He decided it would be best not to mention the drinking.

"I'm really sorry, mate," he said softly. "I know how horrible it feels. At least you still have your mum, right? Trust me, that's something."

"Yeah... But she's working at Mungo's, now, so she still gets to do her work, and although the hours are murder on her, she's happy. I'm the one who's miserable." Why is that, exactly? Is it purely because my purpose in life is gone? Or is it some need for accomplishment that I finally realised was entirely dependent on my family's business? Either way, I didn't like it.

Eltanin nodded when Artemius mentioned that he had taken a job as a security guard for the Ministry to pay the--wait. The Ministry? As in the Ministry of Magic? Artemius Baxby, former Ravenclaw, mediocre Chaser, the man with the weird sense of humour--the anti-Ministry man--was working for the Ministry? Dear God, the world really had gone crazy.

"I don't think your hawking papers was a silly money-mongering stunt at all," Eltanin finally said when he trusted himself to speak again. "I wouldn't have suggested you sell the papers at the Rovers' Revenge concert if I didn't think it would be a good idea. But...ah...did you say you're working for the Ministry? Was there really nowhere else that would hire you?"

He meant it as a joke and hoped it had come out that way. Artemius was not without qualifications, and Eltanin would have thought that any company would have jumped at the chance to have him, especially if he had his contractor's license.

"Yeah... But she's working at Mungo's, now, so she still gets to do her work, and although the hours are murder on her, she's happy. I'm the one who's miserable."

Eltanin shrugged. "That's because she's doing what she's always loved to do--helping and healing people--whereas you're stuck in a job you hate because you're desperate to make ends meet and you don't know what else to do. Nobody likes doing something because they have to--it's like doing all those essays we did in school. And I'm willing to bet that your boss makes your life hell because he knows as well as you do that you need the job. If you had other options, you'd have that famous Artemius Baxby attitude that everyone at Hogwarts remembers--the one that says you're doing this because you want to and we'd better be nice to you or you'll take your marbles and go home." He gave his friend a crooked grin and inserted a teasing tone into his voice. "Besides, when's the last time you saw Summer?"

"I don't think your hawking papers was a silly money-mongering stunt at all," Eltanin finally said when he trusted himself to speak again. "I wouldn't have suggested you sell the papers at the Rovers' Revenge concert if I didn't think it would be a good idea. But...ah...did you say you're working for the Ministry? Was there really nowhere else that would hire you?"

"Well... I don't really have much working experience, besides my own family businesses. As it is, I kind of needed a job right away, and I know Security is always needed. Maybe when we save up enough in a few months, we'll look at getting a house or something nice to live in. I might look into getting a company after that."

"That's because she's doing what she's always loved to do--helping and healing people--whereas you're stuck in a job you hate; because you're desperate to make ends meet and you don't know what else to do."

That makes it sound so simple...

"If you had other options, you'd have that famous Artemius Baxby attitude that everyone at Hogwarts remembers--the one that says you're doing this because you want to and we'd better be nice to you or you'll take your marbles and go home."

Artemius echoed Eltanin's crooked grin. It was true. He wasn't his usual, cheerful self. He was just so... lost. He was hoping a new Cottage would help make life better.

"Besides," he teased. "When's the last time you saw Summer?"

Artemius chuckled at that. "You do realise that she was three years my juniour, right? She was still in school for while." He laughed. "I haven't seen her in years."