"Imperio..."
"Red." Muttered the artist. ''I need red..." ''Sir, we're out of red.'' Said male voice.
''Then what shall you do?'' He said.
''Go to the local market and buy some?" The stranger said hopefully.
"If I had no patience, I would sigh at your stupidity. But alas, I cannot, for I am a generous, brilliant man.
And you, but a wanted man, in the streets of Madrid. But I must ask of you to- did you lie?"
"Of course not sir! Of course not!"
"Then why, may I ask, is there a red pastel, and bowl of red paint, behind you?"
"Well sir I don't have eyes in the back of m-"
"That was your last chance, Wormtail!" The artist laughed coldly.
"I'll see the Dark Lord gets to handle you. You were a worthy opponent, Sirius.
"Please! Please no! Everyone thinks I'm dead and I have to keep that way. Ple-"
"SILENCE. The Dark Lord will see to that. Crucio."
And our story begins.
