Of Monsters and Men- Tom Riddle x OC

20

Sneaking through the Austrian forest, Animo rubbed her dragon-skin gloves together, hoping to generate some sort of warmth while her breath billowed in her face.

"You are an idiot to come here again."

Animo sighed, blowing against her fingers. She didn't dare to use magic casually so close to her brother's fortress. With every spell, she increased her chances of being caught. "So you've told me."

The Demiguise, who had still refused to tell her his name, observed her mannerisms with a scathing gaze. Animo could never shake the feeling that the creature could see right through her. "But your plan is a decent one."

Her heartrate quickened, "do--." Animo cut herself off with a growl of frustration. Of course, the Demiguise was already gone, nothing but frozen fronds where his feet had stood.

Pulling back a bit of the undergrowth, Animo waited patiently. According to her previous trips to Nurmengard, one of Gellert's less influential henchmen would pass along the trail in a matter of minutes. Animo need only stun and obliviate him before taking his identity. She patted the inside pocket of her slacks to be sure the canteen still pressed against her skin. Disguise enchantments were fairly easy to ward against, but Polyjuice was nearly undetectable, provided the user only need it for a limited time. She tried not to think about Barty Crouch Jr., who had posed as Alastor Moody. She couldn't afford any instant of hesitation.

The whistling preceded the sound of bootsteps as a ruddy-faced Irishman emerged from the shadows, having newly apparated from an unknown location. He shoved a pouch into his pocket, the sound of clanging coins easy to distinguish amongst the hushed and freezing canopy.

The man was down before he had time to blink, thanks to Animo's non-verbal Stunning jinx. It was one of her strongest curses and Animo tried to muffle her sense of victory while she crept down from the hillside. A levitating charm lifted the man's body into the air and off the path, making it easy for Animo to avoid signaling an alarm.

She lifted a piece of the man's greasy hair, wincing at the foul odor of stale alcohol. The smell was always too reminiscent of her father. Plucking a strand quickly, Animo watched the potion in her flask bubble a murky shade of brown, not unlike the slime at the bottom of the Black Lake. The Slytherin Common Room certainly had a good view of that.

She plugged her nose, downing the brew in one swallow and hunched over while her insides burbled unpleasantly, pulsing with heat. Her knuckles swelled twice their usual size while her hair darkened and shot back into her skull, brushing the top of her forehead. After the most crippling of the sensations had passed, Animo reached over and stole the man's cap, stuffing it over her head and hoping she wouldn't contract some sort of disease. The smeared fabric felt as though it hadn't been washed in months.

Finally, Animo settled back on her haunches, pointing her wand at the man's temple. "Legilimens," she whispered hoarsely, remembering what Albus had taught her.

It had always been easier for Animo to block her mind than to read others and the man's memories assaulted her like a raging torrent, eager to pull her under their grasp. Gasping, Animo craned her focus on the most recent memory of Gellert, trying not to flounder as her brother reared into existence.

"Ah, Pickens," Gellert smirked, his violet eyes twinkling dangerously. Her brother sat in a rather ordinary chair at the edge of a hall, although his stance conveyed his authority. Gellert never fidgeted, nor blinked as he gave the Irishman a scathing once-over. "Do tell me that you were able to glean some information from your mission."

Pickens shifted on his feet and his nervous demeanor was easy to pick up on. Gellert observed him sharply, assessing every weakness. "I didn't hear no word 'bout the rock, sir," the man stuttered, pulling the scarf tighter around his neck, "but I did hear a bit 'bout the Dumbledore, sir."