(1937-10-18) Cutting to the Quick
Details for Cutting to the Quick
Summary: Magnus drops by the radio station in Hogsmeade for an 'interview' with David.
Date: October 18, 1937
Location: WWN, Hogsmeade
Related: None

David is sitting quietly in the studio as a slow, jazz instrumental resonates throughout it. The host is busy writing something up on a piece of paper and sipping on a glass of rum. He stops every now and then as he thinks deeply on something before returning to his notes.

Outside, night has already fallen; stars hover over the tiny village of Hogsmeade. Far below, a man who has just apparated on to the cobblestone street is crossing it towards the little radio station. He's wearing a curious outfit - a white, billowing long-sleeved robe with brown boots and gloves - but there's nobody on the street at this hour. He pauses just outside the door to withdraw his wand and mutters, "Homenum revelio." When it seems certain that there's only one person within the building, he slips inside the entryway, closing and locking the door behind him, and paces quietly forward.

David is in too much of a drunken state to hear any shuffling going on within the building that sneaking around in robes might cause. He leans back in his chair and runs his hand over his face, sighing a little bit. He sits up and scoots across the room to prepare the next track.

The white-robed man makes his way down the hall and stops when he reaches a door; leaning against it softly, he listens for noises, and is quickly rewarded with the sounds of movement. His hood is pulled up, and beneath it is a mask - a smiling, cherubic face with rosy cheeks and a curly golden wig attached. He points his wand at his throat and mutters a spell to alter the shape of his vocal cords, then reaches for the door's handle and flings it open. The wand goes immediately towards the radio host, and the high, childlike voice that emanates from behind the mask radiates hostility. "Hands in the air, where I can see them."

David turns in his chair, sipping on the glass with a raised eyebrow. He looks the figure up and down and says, "Nah…I don't reckon I'm gonna do that, buddy. You can see my hands right where they are."

The figure in the doorway pauses, watching for David to make a move or reply. When he does, Magnus tsks warningly and flicks his wand marginally so that it's pointed at the bottle of liquor rather than directly at the other man. "Your choice, Mr. Smith. Incendio."

David raises his sleeve to deflect some of shards of glass that are thrown at him from the exploding bottle and looks up at the Tim Burton-proportioned cherub in front of him and chuckles, "You're some kinda asshole, huh?"

"Expelliarmus." Magnus doesn't think he'll be getting much in the way of trouble from the other man, but it doesn't hurt to be safe, so he'll disarm him anyway. "I'd say that's a fairly accurate summary, Mr. Smith. Impervius." The charm is directed at the radio equipment to prevent any of the burning liquid from destroying anything important; doing the same for the radio host is only a distant afterthought. "You're going to interview me now, Mr. Smith."

David raises and eyebrow and stands up, shaking his head, chuckling a little bit as the glass is thrown from his hand. "You gotta real funny way of askin' for favors, buddy." He walks over to his drawer and pulls out another bottle of liquor, saying, "If this is gonna happen, I'm gonna be drinkin'."

"Nobody's asking favors here," the white-robed wizard snaps, his arm starting to move around in the lazy swish of an offensive charm when David goes for more alcohol. After considering the request, however, he stops and shrugs. "Very well," Magnus says, the curt tone clear even through the altered, adolescent voice. He moves across the room slowly, grabs a spare chair with one hand, and shoves it haphazardly into the center of the room; his other hand keeps the wand pointed at the host the whole time. "Put us on air, please. You can introduce me as your special guest, Mr. Hopewell."

David walks over to the mixer and fiddles with a few switches, saying, "Test, test." Nothing's on air right now, he's just making sure that the equipment is all still intact. He looks back at the thing and says, "Mr. Hopewell? The one with all of the pro-Repealment flyers, huh?" He unscrews the top of the bottle and takes a swig of it, wincing a little bit. He flips a switch and leans in to the microphone, saying, "Ladies and Gentlewizards, it's that time once again. Time for me, David Thomas Smith Jr. to call out for help, as I'm trapped in my booth at wandpoint by a Mister Hopewell." After he's finished, he'll look over at the thing and say, "Well, clock's a tickin'."

Though David can't see it, Magnus's lips twist into a deep scowl once the host has emitted those words. Unfortunately for the radio host, he's also just removed any reason for his 'guest' to restrain himself. He raises his voice enough for it to be clearly audible through the nearby microphone. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Unfortunately, your kind host has just made an extremely unwise decision, and will henceforth be unavailable for any lively debate. CRUCIO!" The wand, still pointing at David, crackles with red bolts of magic that instantly lance towards his chest.

David knows that he's pressed some buttons, so he's expecting something bad to happen. But a torture curse!? David narrowly escapes his fate and moves to step forward and attempt to deliver a gut shot.

The pale eyes behind the cherub mask widen a bit as the Crucio goes wide. When the radio host comes closer and attempts to land a swing on him, the wizard curses and whips his wand up. "Stupefy!" Well, the listeners /are/ going to get quite a show. Unfortunately, the Stupefy is too low. It strikes the floor in between them and sends both men reeling back a step. Well, back to square one. That candy-coated, childish voice hisses out another one of the Unforgivable spells: "Crucio!"

David growls as he's thrown back and moves to step out of the way of the second curse. Must be David's lucky day or something. He moves once again to try and attack the figure, this time going for a chance to knock that mask off.

Magnus is going to have to seriously reconsider this whole 'go for the magically vulnerable ones' strategy later. Twice in a row now, he's experienced an inordinate amount of trouble because of them. As David closes in on him yet again, he whips his arm up, the distance between them closing to mere inches. "Incarcerous!" At the last moment, the magical ropes whirl around the other man, tightening around him with a strangling full-body grip. The ambassador takes the opportunity to kick him backwards on to the floor. He observes his work briefly, then paces over to the microphone and yanks it off the stand towards his face. "Well, little Witches, Wizards, and Squibs - Mr. Smith is quite a resourceful fellow. He's a bit tied up now, so allow me to introduce myself more formally. My name is Constantine Hopewell."

David lays there all tied up and such.

"I said recently in an address to the Wizarding community that I would take drastic action if you did nothing to prevent imminent disaster. This is not drastic action. This is a warning to the likes of Cassius Malfoy - a turncoat to true rationality if one ever lived and breathed. A rational man knows that sometimes, compromise with the enemy is not possible, and the lines must be drawn. Let me assure him that I fully intend to make the Wizarding world aware that the Repealment Movement welcomes neither slippery-tongued orators, nor those who are beholden to them. Those who cry 'change!', while traitorously endorsing the corrupt and ineffective trappings of the Ministry, are selling out your beliefs for the sake of their political ambitions, ladies and gentlemen." The white-robed wizard steps over to the prone form of the radio host and leans down, reaching into his robe. His hand comes back out with a short, thick knife.

"In less than five minutes, Mr. Smith will die of blood loss. Misguided imbecile that he is, I do not wish him to die - but it is necessary for Mr. Malfoy and his kind to know that for every snake-tongued word they utter, I will be willing to show the public the true face of the Movement. It is not a pleasant thing to look upon - but neither is anything built solely to do a job, and do it at all costs. Remember, witches and wizards: even if the ends do not justify the means, neither do the means justify the ends. Soothing your conscience at the cost of the greater good is unforgivable." The knife makes a quick, clean cut across the host's jugular. "I bid you adieu. Listen now to the sounds of the world you would build with your indifference." Slowly, the ambassador stands, and then disappears from the room with a loud crack.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License