Dodging Prison and Stealing Witches

Chapter 49: Soul Anchors - Part Two

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text
The pub was dark and dingy. The smell of stale beer hung in the air. The reed floors were mattered with so many stains, it was impossible to tell their original colour. A dozen low-voices, scattered around the room, conversed in small groups. Another group stood near the burnt-out fire, betting knuts on snitch shooting. Over the bar, were mounted several decapitated human heads. The heads did not look pleased about this.

The door to the pub opened with a loud creak. All talk halted while the clientele inspected the new-comer.

The landlord used his wand to make a used glass less dirty before putting the glass aside. "Are you sure you don't have the wrong place, Miss?" he said, not unkindly.

The woman ignored him and looked around. The dress she wore, alone, would probably have paid for enough rounds to keep the entire room drunk for a week, although the way many of the men were staring suggested that it wasn't the dress they were interested in.

"No, I'm sure this is the place," the woman said, walking to the bar, and sitting down on one of the stools. About half the room lost interest at this point, although that still left a sizeable number eyeing her up, down, and side-to-side.

"You can sit on my lap, darlin'!" one of the patrons called.

The woman ignored him and ordered an ice-liquor, which the landlord poured from a bottle so dirty it was a wonder plants hadn't started growing off of it.

The woman took it and sipped. She shivered and put the glass back down on the bar. "Perhaps you can help me, Mister...?" She trailed off, waiting for a name.

"Call me, Harry," the landlord grunted.

The woman's eye twitched. "Very well, Mister Harry. I am here on behalf of my lord. He is looking for people who share his view of the world."

The landlord did not look impressed. "And you are?"

"I am Lady Alexandra Patricia Black."

This caused a murmur from people near enough to hear what she'd said.

"You're Lord Slytherin's bird, ain't ya?!" someone shouted. "What's that posh nob want with us?!"

"He's looking for people who believe the wizarding world can be more than it is."

A wizard with the build of an ox and skin that looked as tough as old boot-leather lumbered over. "And what does that mean exactly?" he asked.

"It means people are going to have to make choices about whether they want to be on the side of progress or whether they want to be swept away by the flood that is coming. For those who lead everything will be given — power, gold, respect — a chance of a better life."

"This isn't the first time a dolled-up Black has waltzed into this pub singing those words." The man glowered. "Following that insane bitch lost me two fingers and an ear. And in the end, even the Dark Lord wasn't able to follow through on his promises. Get out, little girl."

"You are not the master of this place, and I am nothing like Bellatrix Lestrange." Alexandra glared, facing the room. "And I am not a little girl — does this look like a little girl?!" She swept a hand down her body.

Behind the bar, the landlord rolled his eyes.

Laughs filled the room.

The wizard standing in front of Alex also chuckled. "Okay, I'll admit you are funnier than that bitch, at least." His face hardened again. "But seriously, get out."