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Atwood Montague

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[24 Jul 2003|03:27am]
[[Sitting outside Pansy Parkinson's room door when she comes home from work on Thursday afternoon: a house-elf, and a rather elderly, bedraggled one at that. It looks like it's recently been in something of a scuffle, and it holds its carpet-bag of personal possessions to its thin chest as if it expects for the bag to be taken away any moment.

Pansy freezes as she sees the elf. "Maddy?" she says, staring at the elf. "Is something the matter with Attie's Aunt?"


When Atwood wakes on Thursday morning, it's a little before dawn, and he gets dressed slowly, carefully, putting on his formal robes rather than his field robes. Death Eaters can join the Lord's Army at the age of sixteen, though the Army has the tendency to keep them back out of the field until they're at least eighteen.

Thus, William Avery is eighteen and two months when the Death Eaters cross his arms over his chest. Flint shuts the boy's eyes, and Atwood closes the lid of the coffin down on him. Every man of the twelfth section comes out of their tents into the pre-dawn light to stand at attention to see Flint and Montague carry him to the wagon that will take him back to the Rabbithole and from there, to his final burial ground -- if the carts had been drawn by Thestrals, every man in the camp would have been able to see the winged horses standing between the shaft. Every man in camp knows at least one of the coffins riding out this morning.

Montague and Flint step aside from the back of the wagon to let the attendants secure Avery's coffin and make sure it doesn't bang around on the trip back. in fact, Atwood pats one of the horses on the rump before stepping away from the wagon. He remembers the days when he spent his summers making sure that Pansy showed up to her riding lessons -- the last time he saw Pansy ride a horse was when she was a few months younger than Avery was when died, and as the wagon rolls forward, he can't help but think of how that actually is rather similar to the way the sounds made by the carriages rolling up to the Parkinson Manor for one of Mrs. Parkinson's summer parties.

The Death Eaters have spent the past two months fighting their way out of the Docklands.]]
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[14 May 2003|11:19am]
[locked for C]


I heard about Adrian's father. If you see him again, give him my sympathies for the event and my apologies for not being able to make the funeral or the wake. I suppose you and the other boys in Intelligence have your own reasons, but if they're not good ones, I hope you can keep him safe.

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[21 Apr 2003|02:23am]
Attie doesn't receive Pansy's letter until the twenty-third, singed but since there's a lull in fighting on Easter Sunday, he writes her in the morning on the back of a Muggle invoice left over from when they evacuated the building. In the afternoon, he borrows Pritchard's laptop to type this for her in about fifteen minutesCollapse )
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[14 Apr 2003|03:42pm]
Dawn attack on Allied positions.Collapse )

[06 Apr 2003|03:35pm]
[filtered for Death Eaters]

Fucking Aurors. We swam over with the gillyweed this morning, saw that fucking image of Cho Chang standing in the courtyard, and turned around just in time to see the wards sealing us in on the island while they tore us to shreds up over on the north bank. I hear we made a decent stand in the Embankment, but you can't expect forty men, half disabled and the other half support staff to stand against a hundred and fifty Allied troops. It wouldn't have been half a fight if we hadn't been trapped on the fucking island.

I hear that they've claimed back almost all of the north bank except for the Docklands and the strip right around the Ministry. We're in the position that they were three weeks ago except now, they've got some kind of fucking yellow-colored ward that makes the hair on the back of my skin prickle even though I'm not anywhere near touching it. My Mark throbs whenever I get about twenty feet from the edge of it.

I can look out my window and see the edge of it, and from what we've seen, not only do they have one up over their end of things but they've got something up over us that keeps us from Apparating or Porting more than a few pounds of stuff in or out, even on old-established Port routes.

Pritchard's working like a fiend trying to crack it. It's not as easy as the one we had to claw through at the deserted Auror base to get back to shore, but having the head of Wards & Transportation in camp is the first piece of good luck that's happened to us all fucking day. Did you know they even took the furniture out of the building? They fucking knew that we were coming for them, and they even knew that it would be by water because there were dummy defensive charms set up along the waterline to give some sort of token resistance while we were coming up through the storm drains. They didn't want us finding out before we were fully committed, I guess.

C, I assume you're still acting as head. I hope you find the people responsible for this and tear them a whole new set of orifices to shit and breathe out of.
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[Filtered for Pansy] [06 Apr 2003|03:32pm]
Pansy, I hope you're feeling better, and I just wanted to tell you that I love you. I don't know whether your copy of the book's been affected, but the copy that C gave me and most all of the personal effects that I had in camp went up in flames because the Aurors sent a few roving balls of flame through the camp before they sealed us in, and one of them tore through the barracks tent for our division. I've got a few scraps of pages left from the book, but I don't know whether they're still charmed. I've got them in my pocket now, and I'll be keeping them safe.
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[25 Mar 2003|09:25am]
[[Captain Flint's birthday is on Monday, and Monday night, at dinner, Captain Flint announces the arrival of the gillyweed extract for the assault on the Auror island. There's a bit of hurried muttering among his men that makes Flint grouse a little, as he's not quite sure what's got them whining like this, but when he goes back to his cot at night, he finds an almost life-size human-shaped doll made out of rough sack-cloth, stuffed with grass, with a blue bow around its neck. Flint is puzzled as hell and about to check it for an Auror booby trap when he sees the small card pinned to the chest of the doll: in neat letters that he recognizes as being Alterabee's, the best long-distance shot in the group, Flint reads the words "Cho Chang" in script letters.

Underneath, it's written: "At your imminent and ready service, Captain Flint. Battle-tested and every man of the Lord's Army, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff house can vouch for my abilities. Happy Birthday, sir!"

On the floor next to Flint's bed is a bottle of fifty year wizarding whisky from Montague. It's also tied at the neck with a little blue bow, and the card Spellotaped to the front reads

Dear Captain Flint,

Thank you very much for taking me on this year. It has been an honour and a pleasure, and there is nothing I can ever do that could possibly ever repay you.

Sincerely yours,
Lt Montague.

PS:The whisky is to help you enjoy your special night with your favorite Auror. Happy Birthday, and here's to hoping that we'll have even more reason to celebrate and less to execute overly-elaborate practical jokes out of sheer boredom very, very soon.

[14 Mar 2003|08:47pm]
Other miscellaneous correspondance. Mm! Spam! Mm! Sap!Collapse )

[14 Mar 2003|08:40pm]
[[Thank you note. Part two. Filtered for C.]]

Thank you note.Collapse )
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[14 Mar 2003|08:37pm]
[[Because Auntie raised Attie properly. Filtered for Adrian.]]

Thank you note to Adrian. Collapse )
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[02 Mar 2003|03:07pm]
[[In Attie's bags: a sprig of rosemary from a cluster growing wild down by the riverside, dried with charms and pressed flat by pages of the little book that Pansy gave him for Christmas. It shares the page with the fragment of page that Attie found in the house a few days ago.

Wrapped around the book is the front page of the newspaper from the twenty-fourth. The headline talks about the Death Eaters pushing the Aurors out of the Docklands and back onto the islands, but just underneath is a picture of Pansy from earlier in the year and an article about the attempted assasination attempt against her. It's the only news that Attie's been able to get, and it's terribly vague. Bodyguards, Allied hitwizards, and he hasn't had a chance to look at the journalling system since, so he hasn't seen C's message.

On February twenty-seventh, he ends up writing a one-page letter to Pansy, and when he's done writing it, Attie burns it since there's no way he can get it to her.

The last section to go up in flame .Collapse )

Late that night, the Death Eater encampment catch an Auror on a mission of sabotage and surveillance. There seem to have been almost nightly run with an Aurors are swimming over to the shore in order to not set off the magic-use wards. While the captains on site discuss what ought to be done to tighten security some more, Attie is the officer assigned to watch over the prisoner. The captains have to decide whether to bring an interrogator to the site or ship him back to the Rabbithole for questioning, and whiel there are two other men guarding the prisoner, Attie doesn't say a word the whole time he's guarding the Auror.]]

[22 Feb 2003|01:44am]
Filtered for Pansy.Collapse )
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[14 Feb 2003|08:41am]
[filtered for Pansy]

Happy Valentine's Day, Pansy. I'm sorry that I can't send you more than this electronic message, but here's to hoping that we'll have other ones to spend together and waste in the Galleon bathtubs.

And tell Jurgen hello for me.

I'll be thinking of you.
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[05 Feb 2003|11:07pm]
[filtered for Pansy and C]

We've been spending the past few days hipdeep in freezing river water and keeping watch over the R&D boys who like to go paddling around in their charm-insulated swimsuits for four or five hours at a time. I've never been turned water-colored for so long, and the little shits keep hinting that I ought to be reminded to forget that I was ever in the river -- not that I have the faintest fucking idea what they're doing besides getting into chicken fights with water that's about a skip away from freezing. I hope Strategy knows what it's doing because I suddenly feel like R&D hasn't got the faintest fucking clue.

Hope the two of you are keeping warm and dry and not Thames-colored.
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[08 Jan 2003|01:03am]
Posted the third of January. Under normal circumstances, it would arrive in London on the fifth, but it doesn't get to the Rabbithole until the seventh. When it does get there, it spends a few days floating around the mailroom until somebody realizes that Montague is one of Flint's men, not a worker at the Rabbithole, and forwards it to the Tower.Collapse )

[27 Dec 2002|04:01am]
Posted to Atwood's guardian aunt on the twenty-second of December. She's been ill recently, and on the advice of the mediwitch, her house-elf doesn't inform her that it's arrived until the twenty-seventh, when she's well enough to sit up in bed.Collapse )

[26 Dec 2002|03:17am]
[filtered for C and -- surprisingly -- Adrian]]

I've got a week on furlough and my first lieutenant bars. Flint put in a word for me, it seems. Are you guys in the mood for another dinner on town? You know. One that will go better than the last time the four of us met in a restaurant?
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[24 Dec 2002|03:10pm]
Christmas presents.Collapse )

[12 Dec 2002|02:12pm]
[filtered for Adrian]

Word is that some old housemates of ours paid you a visit last night. Are you all right?
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Utopian. [09 Dec 2002|02:24am]
[filtered for Pansy]

Let's run away to Spain. My arm's not in a sling now, so I'm not a cripple anymore. I also hear that the weather is nice this time of year, and the exchange rate looks favorable.
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