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Posted: Feb 12 2017, 06:43 PM
This wasn’t your typical jurisdiction, no siree. While most cops got to walk the beaten paths down 42nd street and Rodeo Drive, I had to get assigned to this dirty berg. Hogwarts. Pihhfft, even the name churned the day old doughnut in my stomach. This wasn’t your everyday shoot ‘em up and bang bang kind of neighbourhood. These kids were rough. They could turn your legs into jelly and your boogers into bats. That was the kind of shit that would turn a saner man crazy, and a crazier man into Gary Busey. Then again, I wasn’t a normal cop. Maybe I was being punished for the hustle, the crooked pay outs and take backs, but a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. I had a family to support. Do I regret it? No. I only regret ever being found out. God willing, someday, Theodora baby.. I swear I’ll make it back to you and the girls.
A strained, congested whistle echoed throughout the hollow corridor as Lenny strolled along, swinging an empty cardboard roll by his side. He had requested a baton, but for whatever nonsensical reason the school staff had deemed that unnecessary. He supposed he could’ve used the pathetic nine inch slip of reed he excused for a wand, but much like himself, it was hardly intimidating. Did they not know what he was up against? He was just one man, “Oi. You there,” he pointed his fake bobby’s bat at a third year boy who was, sadly, already taller than the pint-sized prefect, “Wellitsy, wellitsy, weeeelllll,” tapping the black painted roll against his left palm, he languidly sashayed over to the younger lad, swinging his hips like a regular Ginger Rogers, “Loitering in the hallways after hours? Tsk, tssssskk. That’s a class H felony, son. It pains me to see you youthlings getting yourselves all wrapped up in this kind of hubbubaloo. It ain’t worth it, kid. Trust me,” he sighed, “But you leave me no choice. ‘Fraid I’m gonna have to write you up a— HEY!”
The kid was off.
Oh, how he abhorred night duty.
The small time shyster was sure that when Hogwarts’ founders made the How to Prefect for Idiots guide, this aspect of it was designed as a joke. For the most part, Lenny had shirked off a lot of his duties in favour for other past times, such as making up fake charities and forcing people to give money to them with the power of the badge. Though sometimes he found the threat of detention, especially on the younger blood, just as fruitful of a means of emptying some pockets. He did not, however, like it when they ran from him, “.. Get..” huff, “.. back..” puff, “.. heeerreee..” strained wheeze of certain doom. After roughly about ten or so metres and one flight of stairs, the unreasonably out of shape teenager keeled over and locked his hands on his knees. He wasn’t about to puke. You were. After taking a moment to regain some control over his breathing, he shakily looked up to the now long gone form of the more than likely Gryffindor. ’Cause ain’t no Ravenclaw ever run like that, “.. You’re lucky I’m so tired from all the choice pieces I’ve been boinking!” Really, there was no need to lie at this point.
Slinking back into the shadows like a good baby gremlin, Lenny rested his back against the wall after his harrowing chase. Slowly, but not really so surely, his lungs were starting to fill up with an appropriate amount of oxygen and expelling it back out at a sensible rate. It sometimes came as a bit of a bummer when his tasty morsels of prey hopped out of his clutches, but perhaps he required bigger fish to fry. As he eased himself off the wall, partially cloaked in darkness with the other half out, he caught sight of a much meatier carp. Falling back into his shaded protection, he lurked along the stone wall, as the seventh year snuck behind a portrait of the founders.
Henri Rowan. My old nemesis.
The creepy creeper really had no idea what sort of game the older lad was up to, but knowing the kinds of tricks Ri liked to play, he could bet his bottom dollar he was going to give out at least one detention tonight! Gotta make that quota. With a new found vigour and energy, the mini mite tipped the portrait just enough to squeeze through, holding out his prefect’s badge and belting out The Supremes, “STOP! In the name of laawwwww. Before I bust your aarrrssee. Think it ohh-wohhh-vveerrr,” and if you didn’t think he had a little booty bop to accompany this, then brother, were you ever wrong, “Ohhh, RiRi. You filthy old so-and-so! You just make this too easy.” He pinned his badge back to his shirt, and whipped out his handy dandy detention slip pad, “What do you think? One? Two.. months worth? Sound amicable? Mm?” He cocked his head to the side, eyebrows raised to the heavens with the biggest shit eating grin he’d ever donned.
Was there anything more satisfying than busting someone you looked up to?
Tagged: @Henri Rowan
Posted: Mar 22 2017, 08:03 PM
Ri sat curled in the armchair beside the glowing fire in the Slytherin Common Room, a deck of cards in his hands. IT was well worn. The once plastic like material had softened and taken on an almost velvet like quality from his years of handling. Though the edges were well worn with a tear here and there, the deviant couldn’t bring himself to part from the old pack. It was the first he’d ever bought and the feel of the cards in his hands was meticulously relaxing. In times of stress, he turned the playing cards over his hands. He’d cut the deck then shuffled the two halves back together. Again and again, until each crinkle of the cards matched the rhythm of his breathing and his heart rate calmed.
Tonight the trick had certainly helped keep him from growing too anxious with excitement. But a quick glance, likely his hundredth that night, to the clock on the far wall had him pulling himself up from the seat beside the fire. Ri tugged the rubber band from his wrist and looped it quickly around the deck. Then, in one fluid motion, he tugged his canvas satchel from it’s spot resting beside his feet and slipped it on. He tucked away the deck of cards and started towards the doorway, a small smirk curling his lips when he heard the gentle tap of the cards coming to rest beside a bottle of firewhisky.
It took little effort to make it through the corridors of Hogwarts to his destination. Seven years had proven more than enough time to learn the ins and outs of the castle along with the usual routes that the night rounds took. If he played his cards right, then he’d manage this little trade and be back in the common room before anyone noticed his absence. Weaving his way through the shadows, the Snake made his way to the portrait room, casting a cautious glance either direction before he ducked inside - to find an empty room. Ah, so he was the first one here then? Figures. How bloody typical.
With little worry of being discovered, Ri wove his way around the room to find a chair beside a little table. He sank back down, reclining in the chair as he propped his feet up on the table. A moment passed, then another, and Ri found himself shrugging his satchel off his shoulder and fishing out the deck of cards. He cut the deck and shuffled, easily falling back into that rhythmic pattern until an unholy screech filled the room. Ri bolted upright. The cards that he’d been curling into a bridge shooting from his hands as his heart leapt to his throat. They fluttered soundlessly around him as he blinked, wide eyed, at the young Slytherin who stood near the door.
For a long minute, Ri could only stare at the boy his brain unable to process what he’d just seen. But the gleam of a badge on the front of his shirt sent a spark of recognition to his failing brain. Prefect. Lenny Bloody Plunkett was prefect. But why was he here? There shouldn’t be anyone in this hall for at least another twenty minutes. Had something changed? Had he been set up? Ri swore internally as the boy whipped out the pad that he’d seen far too often in his time wandering the halls. He’d worry about the details later.
“Now...Now wait a minute,” he rushed, getting to his feet and holding his hands out in what he hoped would placate the boy’s pen from doing anything too hasty. “Brilliant as…” he glanced down, carefully shifting his way around the fallen cards to stand closer to his chair and his duffle. “...as that rendition of...whatever that...was two months of detention is hardly fair.” Ri turned his hands palms upwards, showing their emptiness to the young Snake. “Would you even qualify being out of bed at this hour a detention worthy offense, Lenny Darling?” What were the odds he could snatch his bag and make a break for it if Lenny moved from the doorway? Ten to one, he’d wager. He’d have to leave his cards behind but….they were a more tolerable loss than the bottle of firewhisky he had in his pack. That would surely get him into trouble.
@Lenny Plunkett - I am so so so so sorry this took an age and a half @~@ i hope it works
Posted: Apr 5 2017, 10:11 AM
There was something so intrinsically fascinating about watching a person in the midst of being caught. It wasn’t something he had ever witnessed before his time as prefect, as it was normally the small time shyster in precisely the bigger time shyster’s predicament. Now, in his role of the catcher, he took a certain delight in the quirks each individual displayed at the very moment the short arm of the law whipped out the cuffs. Some were larger reactions, while others were almost indiscernible to the naked eye. It was obvious Henri was not a pureblood by the initial shock on his face, or the way his cards erupted from his hands. A more elite type of someone would never lose their composure like that. Often, their tell was little more than a twitch of an eyebrow, or a tick pulling down at the corner of their mouths. Perhaps even these small signs portrayed some form of recognition of his position, but that didn’t stop their wands from reminding him where he stood amongst them. They were probably his least favourite culprits.
His favourite were the first years. Sometimes the little mites even cried.. and that was adorable.
Truth be told, Lenny did feel a sense of satisfaction as the older boy almost grovelled before him. Though he didn’t trust it. From what he had seen from the seventh year, and what he admired the most about him, he was undeniably sneaky. Probably even slipperier than the self-proclaimed con master himself. Or, in the very least, better at it. Lenny’s ineptitude in even the simplest of tasks was unquestionable, but even so, he wasn’t stupid. Nothing came this easily, just as Ri wasn’t the simplest of targets. Though he couldn’t imagine what the taller lad had in mind. Especially when he could’ve likely picked up the far shorter Slytherin with little to no effort, tossing him to the side like the shit nugget that he was. Still, the puny prefect stayed locked in front of the doorway, his hips swaying in a superior contentment as he clicked the top of his pen on and off.
“Mmmm, I’d say you’re doing a little more than just sneaking out after hours.” The relentless clinkity clinkity clink of the spring being pushed up and down by the pad of his thumb filled the small space of the room. The world’s most obnoxious intimidation tactic. He continued, “Colour me ignorant, but I’ve a feeling you didn’t come here to play a game of solitaire.” His head indicated toward the strewn of cards that had littered around the table in a nearly perfect circle. A submission to the poker gods, no doubt. His sewage eyes then fell on the duffle bag, “And lemme guess? You’ve got nothing more than a few cupcakes in that bag, frosted with good intentions? Puh-leeeaaazzee.” He rolled his eyes for days!
Flourishing the pen, he gave it one final and mighty click! Attempting to hold it up as high as Ri’s face. A feat in and of itself, “So! About how long do you think until the others show up, aye Gambit? It’d pain me to see your face covered in egg when they watch you getting busted by the likes of lil’ ol’ me.” Truth be told, Lenny didn’t really want to be around when whoever these others, he assumed, arrived. Especially if they should have a similar stature to his current fugitive. The snivelling snake loved working with percentages and numbers, and those were the type of odds he knew he didn’t have a shot with. He had to wrap this up quick, “Illicit poker games, possible narcotics.. Man, I’d say two months of detention is more than fair! Christ, Ri! You’re of freakin’ age! I could take this all the way to the Wizengamot! The press would have a field day!” His hand waved wildly as his eyes bugged out at the largest stretch in history.
“But… but.. ah, heck! What can I say? I like ya, ya big galumph,” he tapped his pen gently against the pad of paper, his expression slightly softened, though with a touch of malice he couldn’t seem to erase, “There might be a way to make all of this ugliness just.. disappear.”
Tagged: @Henri Rowan
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