WHO: @lepouxinfernal / Draco Malfoy WHERE: The Tuft Family Residence, Barnton, Cheshire. WHEN: 15th October, 2008
The soft crack of apparation disturbed the peace of the night, the crunch of gravel beneath boots tipping Roger’s head lazily up from his daze to enquire, politely, of the moonlight reflecting off of silver-blonde hair, “Alright, Malfoy?”
If the glow of his cigarette in the dark hadn’t given him away, the soft creaking of the swing Roger had perched upon to wait certainly had. The slow creep towards midnight only one of the many, time-swallowing events that made up Roger’s days and nights. Unlike so many of the day to day functions of the Spirit Department, investigations could rarely be carried out by daylight.
Roger sighed, leaning back into the swing and one last inhale of his cigarette, savouring it for a long moment before tossing it aside into the grass. The lazy sway of the swing was halted as he stepped upon the glowing butt, reaching down to hoist the satchel he had filled with provisions for the night ahead up into his arm as he lazily dropped back to his feet and eyed the respectable little townhouse, all stone and wood and home to a deeply restless spirit, towering over head.
There had been no recorded deaths in the house for over fifty years, according to the Ministry’s records. Whatever this family had brought into their home, Roger doubted it would be a gentle separation. The spirits they were encountering of late seemed to be growing less and less amiable by the week.
Hence the back up — of sorts. At least it wasn’t Dennis.
“I hope you got some rest. I’ve got the feeling its going to be a long night.”