No Rest for the Wicked PV Closed

Elliot lay in bed, his warm brown eyes staring at the ceiling as the alarm clock on the night stand chirped away in its quiet beep. Not that the older man needed it. He would naturally awake at five AM everyday, just before the alarm went off, because everyday was the same.

The Potions Master would rise and make his way towards the kitchen of his two bedroom apartment, coffee was always first. Two fried eggs and a piece of toast would follow as he read his newspaper. He would wash, get dressed and make his way towards St. Mungo’s for the days work. Whilst there he would mostly keep to himself as he attended to his brews, checking off his daily duties as he went. A chicken salad sandwich would be ordered from the cafeteria for lunch. After his shift was complete, Elliot would take a stroll back home, always passing his favorite Fish and Chips shop and always tempted to go in and order for dinner. Home by six-thirty, tele on for the evening news and perhaps a Muggle Football game or sometimes a seat by the radio to listen to a Quidditch broadcast. Lights out by 9 o’clock sharp. Rinse and repeat.

Most would just say he was a quirky old man who liked to have things just a certain way. Humans are repetitive by nature and some of us fall victim to it, rarely breaking the routine for change can be a scary thing. That was not the case for Elliot Price. He might seem a man of simple taste, but he always enjoyed the excitement a new day could bring. What interesting new restaurant had recently opened? Who was being shown at his favorite art gallery? Yes, he was a quiet man, calm by nature but by no means was he boring. However, even those that live the most exciting lives have a boring day from time to time and that’s where Elliot would stay trapped within his mind. The same boring day, over and over and over...

The only thing that would ever cause a slight bump in his daily torture would be fleeting moments of anxiety. That sudden dropping feeling you get deep within your gut when you know you’ve forgotten to do something critically important. How the hands go clammy as the heart rate quickens, a flushing of the cheeks as a droplet of sweat forms on the brow. It would strike at random moments throughout the day. Flashes of blurred images and a deep ache within his torso. An urgent need to tell someone something, but what was it he was supposed to say? Every night he would lay in bed, deep in thought as he tried to put the pieces of his mind back together. Then a dreamless sleep before his eyes opened just before the alarm clock rang.

Hmm. A strong cup and a couple fried eggs does sound nice.

Elliot would place his cap atop his head as he swung his jacket around his shoulders. A quick glance at his wrist watch would tell him that he was just on time to be leaving for work. Nicely done old chap. However, as he opened the door an envelope would drop before his feet. With a quizzical look in his eye, the old man would bend down to scoop it up, turning it over to see it addressed to Professor Elliot Price. A soft smile would make its way across his lips for it had been some time since he had been referred to that way.

Wait...his smile faded. That was some time ago wasn’t it? Thump Thump. His heart fluttered for a moment as his eyes stared at the words on the envelope. Hogwarts, you were a teacher there for about a year or so. It was...nice? Why was this so confusing? You were the Potions Professor. You did a good job. You left because you needed to...to...

“Hello, Elliot!” The voice of his neighbor would break him from his thoughts.

“Good day, Miss Thompson.” He would reply with a polite nod. His eyes would drift back down to the envelope in his hand. Oh! A letter, that’s nice.

Elliot would would carefully tear it open to retrieve the parchment within. He held it out before him as he looked down his nose through rounded spectacles. A thank you for his service both at St. Mungo’s and Hogwarts. Perhaps he would have a little extra pep in his step today as his chest filled with pride. His long index finger slid across the paper as he read the rest. Then his digit would come to stop on a name. Vladimir Athanatos.

SCREE!

Elliot would wince as a pain shot through his temple, his free hand rising to gently touch the spot. A flash of the boys face would pop through his mind. He reread the name and tried to get it to match the image his memories gave him. The boy was a student...a Ravenclaw. Why did his face stand out within the older man’s mind? Why was his heart beating so fast? Was he...afraid? No...that’s nonsense, he’s just a child...right?

It would be the next name that would bring all the puzzle pieces back together. Victor Moore. That’s right! Always hanging around with that Marion Davenport, one of his best students. The trio were always together outside of class. The recognition would come with a flash of empathy though. Bad news it seemed. Poor Victor had been omitted to St. Mungo’s for severe burn injuries. Elliot would check his watch. “Good god.” Time to hustle old timer!

It would be strange for Elliot not to make his way towards his work station as he entered the building, instead heading the opposite direction towards the ICU. Room P-224. With a gentle knock, he made his way inside. Two nurses were attending to the form of a child, wrapped nearly head to toe in white bandages. “Oh my...” Elliot spoke quietly as his breath caught in his chest. Victor’s injuries were more than severe, he couldn’t believe the boy was even alive.

One of the nurses would touch his back as the other inquired to his relation. “No. He was a former student of mine. I received this letter requesting that I help tend to the boy. It’s initialed T.A. Anyways, how may I be of service?”

@Professor Price's life was defined primarily by meritocracy. A basic, cyclical routine. Soul draining in its own way, time harder to track because there is little deviation. This was a prison as well, although there were no bars and it was not nearly as obvious. He just walked on the same hamster wheel every day and slept in the same sawdust bed every evening. No friends. No lovers. No hobbies or deviations. A hell he hardly realized. But it worked, it kept Professor Price in his place. In reach. Too valuable to kill. Too dangerous to let live.

Professor Price had gotten dangerously close to the truth and his own psychic abilities, his ability to lock his mind away from psychic attack made him dangerous. Yet he was a potions master at Hogwarts of all schools. The combination was terrifying, but also useful. He had been exposed to it, the corruption and he had seen the hags. He had tied Vladimir to at least some of it but he had gone too deep.

Welcome to your new life Mr. Price.

Today was different from the rest, a stand out. This moment of lucidity when life has been nothing but a haze. A creature of habit on diversion.

"You're the first to visit the boy," the nurse replied with a sad smile. "He has been here for a little over a week," she added with a sigh as she looked towards the bed. She was used to seeing this sort of thing, people hurt that is. But most people had someone at their bedside and this child had nobody.

"Odd case," a physician announced interjecting into their conversation before he took a bite of his apple. "Kid's got bad blood somehow," he announced between bites. "Somehow that is the least of his injuries," the most obvious being the severe burns that the staff at St. Mungos had endeavored to heal. It appeared to be slow work. "Boy was burned from the side out, his organs are toast. Dunno how he is even alive..."

If Elliot looked into the room he would see an sleeping child in the bed. The crisp white sheets that covered him suggested that there was very little beneath. A concave stomach, a pair of twig-like legs, even when wrapped in a thick layer of gauze. A clipboard on the door reiterated the boy's identity because a visual appraisal would reveal little. Victor Moore, a 13 year old male. Orphaned this past year according to the H&P. His father found dead in the Yaxley family estate three months ago, it was believed that he defended the estate from intruders and was overwhelmed. His mother found dead a few weeks later, she had ingested a lethal dose of nightshade. His guardian, Thaddeus Atahanatos a career politician and pure-blood. Elliot would have heard of Thaddeus in the papers, he was well regarded by a majority of wizard society but he had made some enemies among the pure-bloods. A proponent of social reform, he was interested in Squib inclusion as well as Goblin and other 'half-breed' reforms. A champion of the disillusioned if he was to believe the media's claims.

Reading on, he would see several curious statements.

1 - a strange inky mark was found on his chest. They have not been able to identify the pattern due to the severity of the burns.
2 - his blood is black in color, thick and viscous. They have been incapable of drawing a blood sample with anything less than a 16G needle (this is very large).
3 - the boy insists that all blood draws be done under a bright light and becomes agitated when procedures are performed in dim lighting. He will not allow his dressings to be changed at night.
4 - His blood pressure is not measurable on a conventional sphygmomanometer. An arterial line was placed temporarily, his blood pressure was 42/26.
5 - His pulse is 12.
6 - Electrocardiography shows asystole with occasional agonal beats versus an idioventricular rhythm. External pacing has proved problematic due to the boy's magical nature.
7 - His temperature is 50 degrees Fahrenheit or 10 degrees Celsius. Endothermic in nature, he appears to draw in heat from those around him. It is possible that this is how he survived the fire but betrays known human biology.
8 - Claims he was cursed two, almost three years ago and requires thick golden potion weekly. Attempts to deny it were met with screams on the day he claimed it was due as well as prolonged seizure, possible pseudo-seizure activity.
9 - Pronounced dead on arrival, but was conscious. [The documentation here appears to be contradictory.]

"Mister... I mean Professor Price?" Victor sounded confused as he called out the old man's name. He was smiling but it was almost impossible to tell beneath the bandages. "You beat my parents here," he added with a cough. Pain racked the boy with the cough, a groan and grimace. His blue eyes moist as he tried to stifle a follow-up cough.

One of the nurses out of view of the door would mouth to Elliot -- he has no idea regarding his parents.

"You did not have to come all this way," Victor continued to talk. His voice strained and raspy. "Service here is great. The medicine here makes me dizzy." A poor attempt perhaps at a joke to tell an elder. "I was supposed to ask you something," he struggled to raise his arm to gesture the Professor into the hospital room.

If Professor Price entered the hospital room the boy's blue eyes would dart towards the door. Some things needed to be said in secret. There were eyes everywhere. Sadly there were also ears. Little did the boy know, this trespass was also calculated. "Close it please," he would ask if Price did not do so on his own. Once the door closed, Victor would ask him a single question. "Did the darkness follow you like it did me?"

OC: As we are approaching a month and the thread appears to be preemptively locked, I am finishing this up.

The hospital room had a bit of a chill, as if someone had left a window open in the middle of winter but they were all closed. The breeze was however real, the tickle of hair and the gentle flap of loose bandages. It was the silent herald to the presence of yet another, a tall thin man wearing a brimmed hat and a tailored suit would apparate at the foot of Victor's bed. He was flanked by two bookish sorts, both of them young bespectacled women wearing suits that cost as much as some might earn in a month.
"Victor Moore," the older man announced with a thin smile. His hands clasped behind his back, the pair of women on either side of him would pull something out of their over-sized purse. "I am glad to finally meet you, I am so sorry that it had to be under these unfortunate circumstances," he announced without giving his name. One of the women, the lady in a red hat, would furiously write something down in her notebook. The other would bring a camera to her face.

"Sir, a few inches to the left please," she would gesture with her right hand that he should walk closer to the bed.

His motions fluid, he never stopped moving as he extended his gloved hand to @Elliot Price. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you Professor Price, my son has never stopped talking about his favorite former Professor." If Elliot accepted the handshake, a flash of light might blind the former Professor, a picture taken by the pretty brunette. "It has been my incredible honor to be associated with your work," he continued. Elliot would not recall meeting the older man, it might even take a few moments for him to recognize the older man but it would come to him. Thaddeus Athanatos, a Greek philanthropist who was mentioned in the Daily Prophet several times in the past decade. No scandals, just the loss of his wife over a decade ago and his well-publicized work with St. Mungos in her honor. Over the past five years he has also earned a name for himself in the Ministry of Magic, a vocal advocate for the rights of squibs as well as a few other disenfranchised populations. "I am so glad that you got my letter," he added. Indeed he was T.A..

"After you are done with your work on my ward," he smiled. Deep creases on either side of his eyes gave him a friendly, almost fatherly image. "I hope you consider reaching out to me, I could use a man of your talents in the coming months." Of course he
was not there for alone time with Elliot, rather the well publicized meeting with the boy burned to a crisp as the result of dangerous bullying.

"As for you Victor," he let out a sigh. "I am so sorry you have been left to suffer in this way, especially with your other recent losses." Losses Victor knew nothing about. He took a knee at the side of his bed. Both of them were in frame, another picture was taken. "I just want you to know that I will be using my immeasurable resources to prevent this from happening again, the incident was cruel...criminal really." Another picture was taken, he turned to face the lens.

"I wish to invite you to my summer villa with my son." Rather presumptuous he never gave the boy his own name. Ultimately there would be that question -- who are you to which he would say "Thaddeus Athanatos, your friend Vladimir's father," not grandfather but father. He looked too old to be Victor's father as he proclaimed but he had a right to a late start in domestics. "But please call me Thaddeus," he added. "You have been through so much."

There would be some humble remark. It not being too bad. I can thank your son/Vladimir for being such a great friend. Besides the pain right now, being fine. It was then that Thaddeus clarified, the boy had suffered another tragedy unknowingly. "No, your parents..." He shook his head and took a breath. "Your father died in a break-in a few weeks ago, I-- thought you knew." The flash of the camera, the scene that followed was nothing but tears and wails.

Needed to disseminate this information. Will place this in the appropriate other places as well. Basically a politician is offering you Elliot a job. Offering Victor a place to stay. Telling Victor that his father had died.