Marked

The Associate

"Abelerd," a voice called from one of the corners. "Pour the boy something - he'll be drinking with me."

Theo followed the voice to the corner of the pub, startled, just as a hooded figure beckoned to him with a single, sharp hand movement. Like the bartender, this man, too, wielded a heavy accent, though Theo did not know enough about foreign languages to ascertain whether it was truly German or something more Slavic.

"Come," he commanded to Theo, waving his hand at the vacant bench across from him. Warily, Theo complied, sitting down uncomfortably as the bartender, Abelerd, slammed a foaming tankard down in front of him.

"Ah, you upset him," the man said with amusement, watching as Abelerd promptly pivoted away. "It appears you've been given a beverage of mostly foam."

Up close, Theo could see the man was much older than the other bar patrons, and had long since surrendered to the effects of age. His thick, bushy beard was almost entirely white, and though he had the air of someone who formerly had exceptionally dark features, he was quite pale, as though he spent most of his time indoors. His dark eyes seemed observant but non-threatening, and Theo relaxed - slightly.

"I'm good, I think," Theo commented skeptically, eyeing the drink in front of him.

The man's eyes sparkled for a moment, like he'd laughed internally. "Best to just drink it," he said pointedly. "No need to insult Abelerd further."

Theo frowned but lifted the tankard to his lips, choking down a gulp of lukewarm, bitter witbier. "Delicious," he sputtered, coughing.

The man smiled hazily. "You know Gregorovitch is retired, yes?" he asked, taking a sip of his own, much more pleasingly poured beverage.

"Yes," Theo rasped, still recovering from the rancid taste in his mouth. "I don't need a wand. I need to speak to him."

The man shrugged. "He hasn't been around for many years."

His tone of finality suggested that if Theo had hoped to glean any information from him, that answer was meant to set him straight.

"Well," Theo said with a grimace. "That's shit news."

The man let out a bark of laughter. "What do you want with an old man and his wands?" he asked jovially. "Surely, a handsome young man like you - you could find better ways to occupy your time."

"I'm here for business, not pleasure," Theo said smoothly, raising his polished brow. "Otherwise, you'd be correct."

The man took another sip of his beer. "Are you an associate of some kind?"

"You could say that," Theo quipped, nodding. It seemed as accurate a misnomer as any other he could think of; somehow, he sensed that "member of villainous homicide tribe" wouldn't be met with much enthusiasm. "But believe me when I tell you that my employer will not be happy with my performance."

"You might get a bit further if you made even the slightest effort to blend in," the man pointed out, gesturing to Theo's attire. "You give away too much."

Theo smirked. "Oh yeah? Tell me, then," he prompted casually, leaning back as though he didn't particularly care to hear the answer. "What am I giving away?"

The man squinted slightly, considering him. "English, obviously, and wealthy. Using an Ollivander wand" - he gestured to the item Theo had stowed in his left pocket - "so probably Hogwarts educated." He paused, taking another sip of his beer. "Considering the state of things over there, there are only a couple of people you could be working for - and by the looks of you, you are not of the camp that is busy mourning Albus Dumbledore."