Small Bar

Finn came from the Patio

Finnegan Connor wrote: 12 Jul 2025, 19:09

F I N N E G A NxC O N N O R
omnes magni homines primum fuerunt pueri

gryffindor, third-year
─────────✫

That went well, Finnegan thought lamely while he lowered his wand-arm. But he felt none of the usual grim satisfaction that so often accompanied his offensive magic. Knocking a Slytherin off their pedestal was satisfying in ways that flooring an innocent house-elf just wasn't. Although it remained to be seen how innocent this creature really was. Was it a willing servant or a slave? Perhaps it feared its master's whip more than divine, moral judgement. Or perhaps, divine judgement was exactly what it feared and why it worked so diligently. Finnegan didn't remember seeing any crosses on the way to the cloister, just weathered statues and exposed rock. So who was this a place of worship to, exactly? Like the elf, he lacked for time. He had urgent work to do and a storm was brewing. This was not the moment to dwell on the true nature of this place and he had a hunch he would learn it soon enough anyway. In just a few big steps he closed the distance to the open door and entered the Augury Cloister. The room beyond the door opened into a small bar, unassuming in size yet quite charming. A place to pass through for a drink, but not one to linger in. And so Finnegan wasted no time dragging the unconscious elf behind the polished oak counter, out of immediate sight. Using the counter as support, he quickly sat the creature upright and held its head gently in place with one hand whilst the other fished out a potion from his pockets. The stopper came off the phial with a soft pop, like a bottle of the good stuff being opened for thirsty guests. But this wasn't the good stuff. This was a green, oily liquid which probably tasted less like bourbon and a whole lot more like soap. Gregory's Unctuous Unction had only one purpose: to make the drinker think that the one who administered the potion was their best friend. Finnegan put the potion to the elf's lips, pushing down slightly to open its mouth. His other arm was halfway wrapped around the elf's bony shoulders, positioning the creature just so that its head lolled back a little, to ease the drinking. Once the potion, or enough of it, was down, he rested the elf back against the counter, balancing it so it wouldn't tip over. Then he rose to his full height again and looked around in search of the mortar and pestle. If he managed to find it, he would use a stirring spoon or the pestle or even the elf's gloves to secure a small amount of the crushed substance into his now empty phial of Gregory's Unctuous Unction. He didn't take much, all too aware that if he did, it would be noticed. Once he had stoppered the phial and slipped it back into his pocket, he opened a bottle of what looked like firewhisky, poured some of it through the window, then placed the bottle in the house-elf's hands. Perhaps it would only take the creature a few minutes to wake up and no one would notice, but on the off-chance that someone found it unconscious behind the bar, well, this picture would decidedly lead them to the wrong conclusion. Finnegan hurried half-crouched towards the door. From there, he would attempt to scale the fence again and make it to the other side, the right side, the side from which normal guests approached. That was who he'd be. A normal guest, albeit a very obviously muggle one. Someone for the purebloods to snigger at, someone too poor to afford proper clothes for an occasion such as this. The only sign of his intrusion would remain on his forearm, obscured, but not wholly hidden by the sleeve of his hoodie. There would no longer be a need for him to hide in the bushes when he could have someone working for him on the inside. He would just stroll into the bar and strike up a warm conversation with his dear, small friend, whose name he'd yet to learn.

Veni, vidi, vici 05/07/2025 Augury Cloister

Status:

• Summer cloak is no longer enchanted. No more stealth bonus.
• Wand is stowed.
• Used Gregory's Unctuous Unction

Inventory:

• A sampling of crushed herbs (if actions are succesfull)
• Gregory's Unctuous Unction [Trunk]
• Drowsiness Draught [Trunk]
• Babbling Beverage [Trunk]
• Bezoar [Trunk]
• Feathers of the Mockingbird [MS Earned Item]
• Winter Cloak [Trunk, Standard Item] - There is no summer cloak item that I was able to find. For flavor purposes I will claim this winter cloak to be a summer cloak to be more seasonally appropriate.
• Muggle compact - intended as a flavor item, just brought along because it has a mirror, which may yet prove useful. Has no magical effect. Mentioned to be on his person in the Sanctum Noctis thread.

The Narrator wrote: 12 Jul 2025, 20:21

The house elf crumpled like dropped linen, limbs folding under him in an awkward sprawl. The Stupefy had done its work, concerningly clean, precise, and efficient. No screams, no warning. Just continued silence.

Finnegan moved quickly.

He crossed the short distance to the bar in purposeful strides. The mortar and pestle still sat warm on the stone counter, the plant inside pungent and half-ground, oleander. The mortar was never cleaned, so remnants of the herbs crushed before. A smear of this fresh paste was enough; the Gryffindor scooped it into a glass vial and sealed it. Evidence? Insurance? Murder weapon? Maybe just curiosity. Time would tell.

The elf. Its' tiny chest rose in slow, shallow breaths, alive but insensate. Good. The boy had not killed someone before the event had even started, it would have put a damper on the festivities.

But there was more to do than commit minor theft. Finnegan had brought with him a potion: Gregory’s Unctuous Unction. It shimmered faintly in its stoppered phial. A potion known to awaken trust, to soften suspicion in the drinker. A perfect veil if timed right.

The problem was, the elf was unconscious. Too far gone to sip or swallow. This did not stop the determined youth, he wasn’t about to waste an opportunity, not now. He made the elf drink, much of it ended up in the unfortunate creatures lungs. A reflexive, rather than conscious cough and sputter. Perhaps Finnegan had an ally on the inside, the condition of said ally was still up in the air.

With more effort than one might care to admit, Finn dragged the limp creature behind the bar. House elves were not large or sturdy creatures, but nether was Finn. Posing the creature, as if he had drunk himself into a stupor. The elf would likely suffer for this failing of character, but that was not a concern. A story was and with a fire whisky in hand, the cause would be obvious.

With his work done, Finnegan took a last glance around the bar. The room remained undisturbed, untouched, still dressed for guests with the exception of that failure of a staff member. He would leave the way he came, escaping through the south door and climbing the iron fence. The party would be starting soon. He had other rooms to see. Other secrets to steal. Just not as a shadowy interloper then, but rather as a welcome guest.

Finn left through the Patio and made his way to the Front Lawn

He exhaled slowly through his nose, more irritation than breath, and strode toward the bar with silent purpose. The elf did not stir. It wouldn’t, not until Thaddeus wanted it to. Not until the weight of his voice brought it back from whatever petty dream it had drowned itself in.

Thaddeus stepped over the creature without ceremony, retrieved a crystal tumbler from the shelf, and began to pour. Three fingers, as promised. He brought the glass to his lips but stopped cold when he noticed the half-crushed contents on the counter. That was not part of his standard bar. Toxic, he immediately recognized.

He shook his head as he let the whisky settle in the glass, watching the amber swirl catch the light like a slow flame. He studied it for a moment in silent contemplation, wondering if there was something in this glass. Then, without raising his voice, Thaddeus spoke.

“Attend me.”

There was a soft crack. Then another, then three more in quick succession. Four house elves in total appeared nearly at once, blinking into the room with lowered heads and nervous twitches. All of them wearing the same pink suit custom tailored for this affair. Their ears quivering under the sudden weight of Thaddeus' summoning.

Thaddeus didn’t turn to face them. His gaze remained fixed on the slumped figure by the bar.

“Remove that one,” he commanded, swirling the drink once more but not taking a sip as he studied the contents. How far did these sins go he wondered. “Western yard. Let it sober beneath restless vegetation or not at all.” He made a dismissive motion with his hand and waited for a pair of them to lift the flaccid drunk.

None dared speak. Thaddeus continued. “And everything has been potentially contaminated,” he added, his tone as crisp as frost. The side of his glass clinked as it tapped the stone bowl with the partially ground herbs. “Dispose of it. Entirely. Bottles. Fruit. Ice. I don’t care if it was unsealed for a moment—start over.”

A pause. One of the elves bowed so low its nose brushed the floor. “Yes, Master Athanatos. At once.”

He poured his present, possibly contaminated drink over the unconscious house elf and poured himself another from a fresh, unopened bottle into a clean, unused glass he inspected before he poured. He then seated himself at the bar, swirling the whisky again. Let the wedding continue in flowers and farce. Here, in the quiet shadow of his own dominion, there would be no mess he did not control.

Magical Action: Cleaning Charm

Mundane Action: Drink

He raised the glass, finally, and drank. He let it burn.

F I N N E G A NxC O N N O R
omnes magni homines primum fuerunt pueri

gryffindor, third-year
─────────✫

Finnegan strutted toward the small bar, confident that he would find a small but capable friend behind the bar. His intrusion had gone off without a hitch; no alarm had been sounded and he had left no loose ends. The only evidence of breaking and entering was hidden under his sleeve, the itching redness on his forearm for which he could rattle of a dozen plausibe explanations that had nothing to do with climbing fences and brushing oleander in the process. Say it's an allergy, say it's a muggle disease, say it's a fading injury from Quidditch practice. Say anything but the truth. What he had not accounted for was the lone and brooding figure already at the small bar. Shit. Finnegan halted outside the archway that led from the ballroom into the bar and quickly pressed up to the nearest wall instead, able to see into the room beyond without easily being seen himself from within. He knew who that was, he would recognize the brooding man while blindfolded and deaf. Thaddeus Athanatos was a man's whose presence and authority could be felt from afar, like the chill of frost in the air. Some shirked away from it, others made the mistake of coming too near it, thinking themselves clever, thinking they could elevate themselves. They had not learned as he had learned that Thaddeus Athanatos did not negotiate, the man struck no deals, owed no debts, and offered no mercy. "Every breath you draw is at my sufferance. Every step you take is because I allow it." Those words had haunted Finnegan ever since his encounter with the man. The man who could, with a mere snap of his fingers, make The Three Broomsticks disappear, the same man who could flay you alive with his predatory eyes. It was only thanks to Evelynn's Dreamless Sleep potions that the mere memory of his sole encounter with Thaddeus had not driven Finnegan mad with despair. But he remembered something else the man had said. "You are but a tool, and a broken one at that. But even broken tools can still be useful. Some even repaired." Hope of redemption, not a way out, but a way up, was all he could cling to. Dread, slow and tar-like, spread through him, yet he did not turn away because he saw that the elf he'd stunned before was not behind the counter. Unless he's still on the floor behind the- in which case... When he had placed the firewhiskey in the elf's hands, he had not expected Thaddeus fucking Athanatos to be first to the crime scene. Was that what had happened here or had the house-elf just gone to fetch something? Mundane action: Finnegan attempts to listen in on what Thaddeus is saying. It's up to mods/dice to determine how much, if anything, he hears of what Thaddeus has said. Finnegan watched the most powerful man in the wizarding world pour himself a drink and seat himself at the bar. The man had likely already noticed him, perhaps even before he had hugged the wall and attempted to listen in. To flee now was as good as an admission of guilt, and so Finnegan steeled himself and shuffled into the room armed with an excuse. “Sir?” His voice came out sounding a little lower pitched than usual. “A word?” No 'congratulations on the happy marriage', no 'please' at the end, no idle talk about the weather or the locale, no clever or veiled remarks, just the fewest possible words necessary to make this conversation as brief as possible. Finnegan drew a step closer, hands folded behind his back not out of politeness, but because he worried that even the faintest glimpse of the redness on his forearm would tip Thaddeus off. “It's about Aamon.”

Veni, vidi, vici 05/07/2025 Augury Cloister

Reducio

Magical action: none
Non-magical action: Finnegan attempts to eavesdrop on Thaddeus before he enters the small bar.

Stats:
Stamina 10 ✶ Evasion 10 ✶ Strength 2 ✶ Wisdom 5 ✶ Arcane Power 5 ✶ Accuracy 19

Abilities:

• Statistically relevant x2, already applied in stats above.
• The Muggle Condition

Inventory
Magical items

• Gregory's Unctuous Unction (Used)
• A Sampling of crushed herbs. Acquired here and contained within the phial that previously held Gregory's Unctuous Unction.
• Drowsiness Draught
• Babbling Beverage
• Bezoar
• Feathers of the Mockingbird [MS Earned Item]

Mundane items

• Winter Cloak - There is no summer cloak item that I was able to find. For flavor purposes I will claim this winter cloak to be a summer cloak to be more seasonally appropriate. Not wearing at the moment. It was probably taken at the door by a helpful house-elf.
• Muggle compact - intended as a flavor item, just brought along because it has a mirror, which may yet prove useful. Has no magical effect. Mentioned to be on his person in the Sanctum Noctis thread.

Arrived from the ballroom.

Jürgen entered the bar through the southernmost archway. The bar was open to the ballroom for the most part as well as to the corridor of rooms along the west side of the building. It was not unexpected to find his Uncle Thaddeus here, a drink in hand, even if he had no intention of truly imbibing, gave his hands purpose and gave the man the appearance of belonging in a place that he seems right at home in. Perhaps too well settled in places meant to unsettle.

"Evening Sir," Jürgen announced his presence with a greeting with a slight bow. In truth, it was simply expected to make oneself known, less you walk in on situations you cannot unsee and cannot unhear. Jürgen had a practiced smile on his face as he leaned into the counter and asked the replacement barkeep, unaware that the original had been seamlessly replaced, "wedding special please."

The special for the wedding was a strange, fruity concoction that tasted like a wagon of fruit had rolled through a foggy field. The taste was faint, a bit murky but not too sweet. A whisper of berries and melon with a fizzy sensation that lingered on the tongue. He would wait for the bartender to mix the drink. It was one of those elaborate processes that involved several pours, a couple of shakes and a flash of light from a source even Jürgen was not entirely certain of.

Jürgen did not bother watching the show, instead he turned to Finnegan unaware of the deal the boy had with the patriarch. Semi-aware of the relationship that the boy had with Gideon, but everyone makes mistakes. Kid looks mostly intact at least superficially, he shuddered at the thought of what might be missing. "You look... mostly well," he commented, the tone of surprise perhaps betraying his train of thought. There was a reason they locked Gideon in his room when he was at the estate and why none of the staff or family members were allowed to be alone with him. "A bit young or a bit short to drink?" He asked, unaware that it was both in Finn's case.

He accepted the drink provided by the bartender and lifted the glass to the light as if inspecting the contents for something. "I suggest the special, you might find that some games unmake you for a time so that you can make yourself anew." He gave Finn a smile that did not quite meet his eyes as he lifted the glass to his lips and took a small sip. "A bit of fresh air would do us good," he claimed. A subtle indicator that perhaps the boy, if he favored keeping whatever Gideon had not cut off, he might want to occupy a seperate, ideally distant space from Uncle Thaddeus.

Magical Action: Drinking the Special.

Moving to the Patio.

Orion made it a step into the bar before his posture stiffened.

What caught his eye was not Thaddeus sitting at the bar ordering house elves around like they were mere pieces on a chess board, but the sight of one of his students trying to speak to him. Finnegan Conner, the same freckled face child that had shown up in his office mere months ago with Aamon Athanatos in tow was now standing before the patriarch himself. Orion was really starting to wonder if the child had any sense of self preservation.

"Mr. Conner, don't tell me you've taken up drinking at such a young age."

Orion approached Thaddeus silently and took a seat—not beside him, but one seat away, leaving a respectful buffer seat between the two of them. It was rare for Orion to indulge at these sort of events, not for lack of interest but simply because alcohol left one vulnerable. He preferred to keep his mind clear, sharp.

"A glass." He requested when one of the house elves came to serve him. Even Orion had his limits, and seeing two teenagers wed at the mere age of sixteen had done him in. He stared as the glass was placed in front of him. He didn't reach for his wand, didn't say an incantation. Just thought of it. Scourgify. He needed something to take the edge off. His had slid into his coat pocket, producing the silver flask he had hidden there that morning. He popped the top open and poured the amber liquid into the (hopefully?) clean glass.

He let out a slow breath and raised his glass towards Thaddeus, "congratulations on your son’s union." The whiskey offered a welcoming burn as he took a small sip. Familiar, biting, welcoming.

His gaze flickered back to Finnegan, he found his presence to be... Alarming, if not absurd. Hw had half the mind to slip into the child's mind and find out what he was thinking, but also hesitated to get involved. Orion, with all his ghosts and his old silver flask, was not here to play games; he was here to observe... But if Finnegan ended up within the jaws of a basilisk he might have not have a choice.

Action: Cleaning charm
Mundane Action: Drinking

F I N N E G A NxC O N N O R
omnes magni homines primum fuerunt pueri

gryffindor, third-year
─────────✫

"You look... mostly well." Finnegan glanced over his shoulder at the stranger who had just walked in. A mop of dark hair fell past the boy's eyes and drooped over his black-rimmed glasses from behind which dull golden eyes pinned Finn in place. Mostly well? What was that supposed to mean? Finnegan frowned. The boy seemed ordinary and pleasant and yet, it were precisely those qualities that seemed so odd in this place. He might've shrugged and dismissed those thoughts if Jurgen hadn't gone on to insult his stature. Reflexively, Finnegan straightened his posture and only just managed to keep an ugly snarl from showing on his face. The idle comment about his height only hurt because it was true, he'd grown only a little these past three years. But it was the comment about games that made Finnegan give up on trying to pretend this was a normal conversation. Jurgen's smile looked fake and painted on, not too dissimilar from Gideon's ocassional attempts to seem human. Who was this? Why was he saying these things? Finnegan considered that he was perhaps looking at another boy tied up in Thaddeus's webs, another indebted boy bound to the man's service under threat of severe punishment. In a way then, he was glad to see Professor Lecuyer enter. Finally someone normal. Although it did mean having to wait to speak to Thaddeus another time or to send a written message instead to tell the patriarch that Aamon was only still alive because of Finnegan and Evelynn, though he had no intention of crediting her, for her own sake. "Mr. Conner, don't tell me you've taken up drinking at such a young age." “Connor” Finnegan corrected gently. After all this time, some students and staff still got his name wrong, the work of the rather pathetic @Colin McCoire no doubt. Probably thinks its funny... “No Sir,” he was quick to add after he had managed a weak smile. He should have felt comforted by Orion's familiar teasing, but instead he felt a familiar stab of irritation. Professor Lecuyer never seemed to really notice how quickly he picked up new spells in Defense Against the Dark Arts, perhaps the only subject alongside Quidditch that he was any good at. Never gives me credit for anything. Honestly, he felt more kinship with Professor Fresnel despite charms usually being his worst subject. If only he'd seen that Stupefy... But then his thoughts took a sharp turn. Where was the elf? It had been the reason he'd come here, well until he'd spotted Thaddeus anyway. The odd teenager, the presence of Thaddeus, and the concern from Orion which Finn knew was just a polite way to tell him to bugger off... it made his head spin like a top. What if the elf was gone? What if Thaddeus of all people had found out what Finnegan had done? He fidgeted, unable to keep his building anxiety in check as fear and guilt clawed for attention. "A bit of fresh air would do us good," the strange boy said, heading toward the patio. Finnegan latched onto the suggestion immediately. The sooner he got out of this room that felt far too small for all the dangerous things contained within it, the better. But he couldn't leave that easily. Not without delivering the message that might buy him a few more breaths in Thaddeus's suffocating world. Finnegan followed after Jurgen without a drink, but he paused at the doorway and quietly swallowed down a gulp. “Oh and sir,” Finnegan said, his voice coming out steadier than he felt. His gaze fixed itself upon Professor Orion Lecuyer, but the words were meant for the man sitting silent and dangerous at the bar. “I meant to tell you sooner, but the other day I came across a section of the dungeons that looked like it could collapse any moment. I reckon it could kill someone if it fell on them. Thought you should know...” Only at the very end did his eyes flicker toward Thaddeus Athanatos, quick as lightning, but then he was smiling and shrugging again in his usual carefree way. He did not wait for a response and for the second time that day, he slipped away out of the small bar and onto the patio.

Veni, vidi, vici 05/07/2025 Augury Cloister

Reducio

Magical action: none
Non-magical action: Finnegan attempts to eavesdrop on Thaddeus before he enters the small bar.

Stats:
Stamina 10 ✶ Evasion 10 ✶ Strength 2 ✶ Wisdom 5 ✶ Arcane Power 5 ✶ Accuracy 19

Abilities:

• Statistically relevant x2, already applied in stats above.
• The Muggle Condition

Inventory
Magical items

• Gregory's Unctuous Unction (Used)
• A Sampling of crushed herbs. Acquired here and contained within the phial that previously held Gregory's Unctuous Unction.
• Drowsiness Draught
• Babbling Beverage
• Bezoar
• Feathers of the Mockingbird [MS Earned Item]

Mundane items

• Winter Cloak - There is no summer cloak item that I was able to find. For flavor purposes I will claim this winter cloak to be a summer cloak to be more seasonally appropriate. Not wearing at the moment. It was probably taken at the door by a helpful house-elf.
• Muggle compact - intended as a flavor item, just brought along because it has a mirror, which may yet prove useful. Has no magical effect. Mentioned to be on his person in the Sanctum Noctis thread.

The bar at the Augury Cloister was small, but its flaws loomed large in the eyes of Thaddeus Athanatos. There was poison on the counter. Oleander crushed in a shallow bowl alongside the accountrmonts intended for beverages. The intention was obvious, the reason less so but of little concern admittedly. Oleander was indeed a poison, but it would prove to be more a nuisance than a lethal introduction.

In the absence of the house elf who was admittedly dangerous to an undefined extent, the bar was by design a place of refinement. Velvet seats, imported tile, crystal sconces. A space that curated illusions of civility, loosened tongues and set people at ease. But the illusion no longer held up under scrutiny. Thaddeus had ordered the house elves to start again. Everything had to be cleansed, purged, redone. The bar would be made proper or razed down to its shelves.

And so Thaddeus took his place at the counter, not as a patron but as a sentinel. From there, the world of the wedding unfurled before him in clear, damning view. From his vantage point he could see through the archway @Opeila Winters break into the private lounge with the grace of a thief and the discretion of a peacock. The room was filled with witnesses and the girl had her wand out of all things. The boy, @Cassius Eden, a pureblood so leagues more recognizable even if they had never crossed paths, pulled in after. Mathias snuck skewers from the kitchen like a child left unsupervised at a feast and returned victorious. The boy could be brilliant, but he fixated on what was simple. And that was merely the ballroom.

To the north, the archways aligned. He could see the choppy waters and darkened skies through the far window from his seat. He could see who went to the far back, who left the observation room to view the cliff's edge. Who sat, who took from the shelves, even if he could not discern specifically what was taken from so far. Vladimir was leading @Howard White, like a ghost meeting the architect of its unfinished ruin. The bloodline curses of Morgantha sitting at the table together. Predictable.

And he saw Aamon. Always watching the boy. Always. The youngest school-aged Athanatos fled toward the cliff with purpose, something heavy behind his steps. But Thaddeus never saw him return.

That was… concerning.

How much did Finnegan overhear?
Roll: 54 — Partial

Finnegan Connor wandered into the bar like a stray cat with too many lives and not enough caution. He hadn’t heard all of it, but he'd caught just enough to raise the hairs on his arms. Enough to know Thaddeus was not pleased and that something had happened with the bar. However, the source of the trespass was unlikely what he expected.

He arrived just as Thaddeus leaned over the bar, fingers gliding across the wood of the bar, his gaze fixed coldly on the slumped form of a guest who had overindulged in something they ought not to have touched.

“...And everything has been potentially contaminated,” he added, his tone as crisp as frost. The side of his glass clinked as it tapped the stone bowl with the partially ground herbs. “Dispose of it. Entirely. Bottles. Fruit. Ice. I don’t care if it was unsealed for a moment—start over.”

Thaddeus poured a drink over the unconscious elf’s robes—one final insult before its removal—then selected a fresh bottle, untouched and unopened, and poured into a clean glass he inspected with the rigor of a poisoner.

Only then did he take a sip. It was not the special, he did not allow anyone to touch his drink or his glass. Not after what he had seen. Caution defined him for a reason.

Finnegan crept closer. Perhaps foolishly. Bid for Thaddeus' attention, before he was intercepted by Jurgen Hess. A cousin of the bride or the groom. Hess did not share in the Athanatos name, but his mother was one of Thaddeus' older sisters. While Jurgen shared the same house as Finn, it was unlikely that they crossed paths. Jurgen had been sent away to Beauxbatons for two years, his uncle demanding that all Athanatos men be withdrawn from Hogwarts for their safety until the 'hag-threat' as he called it was eliminated. However, Jurgen had been back in Hogwarts for the last two years, but he had kept to himself for the most part. He went to class, ate his meals alone and rarely in the great hall, spent most of his leisure time alone in his dorm or someplace on Hogwarts grounds with a book in hand under the shade of a tree. Jurgen had the look of someone used to long dinners and longer silences. But in that moment, he became Finnegan’s coincidental savior.

"A bit of fresh air would do us good," Jurgen suggested after basic pleasantries, a subtle nudge keeping the boy from stepping too close to a man who rarely tolerated breathing in his radius.

Did they notice?
(DC: 25)
Jurgen: 3
Finnegan: 16 (with +5 Wisdom)
Thaddeus: 14
All Failed.

They should have noticed.

A ripple, a moment, something small that might later prove to have been immense. But none of them saw it. The world turned, unremarked. A real shame.

Jurgen, perhaps attempting to ground himself in something simpler, ordered the special. He watched with keen interest as the elf in a pink suit began anew. Fresh bottles cracked open, herbs muddled by hand. The glass presented to him was opaque, hiding whatever mysteries brewed inside.

"I hope you enjoy, Mr. Hess," the elf offered with the air of a servant eager to please, or desperate to be gone.

Rolls: Constitution 3, Wisdom 5

Jurgen would eventually drink from the glass. He would depart and the bar resumed its quiet performance, the illusion of elegance, meticulously upheld by fear, tradition, and more than a little unspoken history.

Finnegan would leave soon after, leaving Thaddeus and Orion as alone as one could in a public venue.

Thaddeus did not look up when Orion entered. He registered the man by sound alone: the measured stride, the careful pause before selecting a seat not next to him but respectfully one seat away. Sensible. For all his rustic methods, Orion Lecuyer still knew the rules of court.

The house-elf delivered Orion’s drink without incident, and Thaddeus allowed the silence to stretch just long enough to remind everyone whose silence it was.

“Hit wizards and half-bloods,” he murmured finally, voice rich and slow as the whisky in his glass. “What a delightful little bar I’ve built for myself today.” One could have thought the tone wistful, perhaps even conversational if it was not for the eyes that seemed too old for even the already ancient vessel.

He turned his head at last, pale eyes landing on Orion with glacial precision.

“Your congratulations are noted,” he said. “Though premature. The union may be signed, but the marriage will not be real until it is useful. I imagine you understand that distinction.” A faint smile ghosted across his mouth. Conversations in the public eye needed to be careful. “You always did know how to separate sentiment from function.” Did Orion's intended know about Orion's past and how present his past still was?

His gaze drifted purposefully to the door where Finnegan Conner had just exited, trailing after the stranger like a tethered kite. “And as for Mr. Conner...” The pause lingered, a beat too long as he nodded in the direction of the door. “There is something to be said for obedience in the lower-born. When properly cultivated, it resembles loyalty. Passable enough, in a dim room.” The boy reeked of ambition, but ambition can be used more reliably than love, which he felt the teen was devoid of. He did not care.

Thaddeus turned his glass thoughtfully in his hand.

“He’s harmless, for now. And useful in the way a well-fed dog is useful—eager to please, easily trained, and perhaps more clever than expected. Still…” He exhaled slowly. “You’d be wise to remind him what happens to disobedient pets, Orion. They do not receive leashes. They receive gates.”

He sipped and relished the burn.

Then, as if Finnegan’s odd little message had only just registered, Thaddeus added:

“The dungeons shift all the time. Old foundations crack, new paths emerge. Tell the boy to mind his footing.” Oblivious to the message the lion had tried to pass on about his accident prone youngest. About how he nearly died. About how he should have died. About how appreciation was expected, Finnegan saved his spare.

"What sort of work are you looking for these days?"