(1939-02-12) Checking Out before Checking Out
Details for Checking Out before Checking Out
Summary: Three Dark Wizards visit the Lima Press for a book that was left behind during the last fire.
Date: 1939-02-12
Location: The Lima Press;
Related: What Men Kill For

Lima Press was small, dusty and musty. Though not as 'old' as some Wizardly places, it still had that look and feel. Tomes were piled up all over, and the scent of glue was heavy in the air. Large screw presses sat about, some used, some not used, and in one corner a dancing quill pen was merrily scribbling away on scrap paper. Chaucer himself was relaxing at a cluttered desk, sipping tea as he read a leaflet through his small eyeglasses. The shop was open, although it was a wintery, blustery night.

There are three sharp 'cracks' as the trio apparate outside. The door opens a moment later, to admit the group of wizards - Dressed in heavy, dark cloaks. Their faces obscured by a shapeless black fog beneath the hoods - One of them stops long enough to close the door, and tap it with a wand. "Colloportus." Slender. Female - At least, the curves suggest. One companion - Tall, straight backed, proud - Holds a case in one hand, wand in the other. And the other - Older, a little hunched, his steps betraying the march of time. Also armed. "Mr. Ollivander. I'm looking for a book. I don't suppose you're able to help?" The older man speaks, his voice slightly rasped.

Chaucer looks up, startled at this. He puts a bookmark in his own book to keep the page as he stood, taking up his cane. He makes his way over to the front counter - really more o a courtesy desk, as the entire thing was open air "Well, I can definitely try to help. I have many books. Which one were you wanting? " he asks, looking over each one curiously.

"Good. It is a book that I came here to check out several years ago… I had thought it wasn't here when I left, but I made sure that if it was, it would have been left in ashes." The old man rasps, his wand hand mottled a little. Flesh showing signs of burn damage, long ago. "… However not only did you have it, it seems to have survived." The heavy case is placed upon Chaucer's reading desk. "So this time, I put the owner to a choice. Find my book, or I'll ensure that you'll watch the Lima Press burn again, from the inside." The threat and the realisation come hand in hand. "Do we have an understanding?"

Chaucer stares at the man now, his eyes immediately looking from one to the other quickly. He grimaced darkly, hand tightening on his cane. He leaned off it though, other hand on the counter. "So you're the one who destroyed my life's work." he rasped. "What book is so important that its' worth a mans' life?"

"Deny him it, and find out." The smooth, sensual voice of a lady floats from the smallest of the dark wizards. "It's cost the Willis family theirs." The older man raises his wand, gesturing her to silence. "Healer Euphrates Magical Constructs Compendium; an unpublished work of some years ago. A complete failure of a book written by a miserable failure of a man. Abram Willis' wife swore with her last breath that he began his research into the Amplifier here." A pointed glance at the case. "Whatever it was that he was using, any pages, any burned fragments. I require them to be turned over immediately."

Chaucer frowns at that, and furrows his brow "What use could THAT be to you? " he states, even while thinking "Give me a moment. I didnt save EVERYTHING. Things that were lost beyond restoration were tossed. Give me a moment to think…" he noted, quickly, and honestly trying to recall.

The taller man lifts the case, and taps the desk lightly with his wand. "Incendio." The fire catches the parchment immediately, flicking as it curls, and begins to catch nearby pieces. The older man chuckles darkly, and lifts his wand at Chaucer. "Wrong answer, Mr. Ollivander. I heartily suggest you remember before the fire spreads. I would appreciate completing the life's work of Mr. Willis far more than I would ending yours. His female companion looks a little uncomfortable… But says nothing.
"Find the remains of that compendium. And find quickly. Or you'll burn with your dingy little store."

Chaucer takes a few steps back at that, looking quite nervous now "I'll look. Just give me a ew moments. I… I kept the remains of what I have in a trunk, in case there was ever a way to restore them. Not everything was saved though. Muggles helped extinguish the fire mind." he notes "put that out and I'll get the trunk out." he notes, turning to start anyways.

"No. This is not a negotiation, Mr. Ollivander - Treat it like one again, and I'll burn your life again just for spite." The old man mutters darkly. "I'll show the sympathy of putting it out when you have found my documents. Assuming it is still small enough to be brought under control." Under the control of the taller dark wizard though, it's only creepy slowly across it's second piece of parchment.

Chaucer grumbles "I'm an old Wizard who can't move that fast, and its a big bloody trunk " he notes at that, even while he struggled to pull the trunk out as fast as he could, having stashed it under a pile of other things for now. He grunted and strained, shaking things off quickly beore opening it, a cloud of ashy dust emerging. A cough, and he waved dust away "Let's see now… What was the name again?"

"Healer Euphrates Magical Constructs Compendium." The older man repeats each word slowly. Drawing them out, while the fire begins to spread. Covering perhaps half of the desk right now, consuming the papers atop of it rapidly. Hopefully nothing irreplacable was up there. "Specifically, pages relating to the Amplifier. It's getting /awfully/ warm in here, Mr. Ollivander." The man half -taunts, half warns. The three dark wizards are all busy watching him, wands out.

Chaucer grumbles "Would YOU like to try then? " he mutters under his breath. He stared at the fire, despariing almost, before looking again. "I dont know if I… How would you know if I still had it ANYways." he notes to that "I havent even catalogued this. ACHOO! "He coughs, and sneezes, and pulls out a blackened hunk of a book, a good part of it missing, but about 40% there.

"Because /that/," The old man points his wand at the case. "Has no right to exist without the work of Healer Euphrates. And when your name comes up in coversation twice within a century, Mr Ollivander… I am quite convinced it's here, somewhere." A chuckle. "Have you found my book? Bring it to me. And I would hurry." Hurry indeed. The entire surface of his desk is wrapped in flame, flickering and illuminating the entire shop.

Chaucer wipes at the cover quickly "One moment. I want to make SURE this thing is what you want " he notes and quickly confirms it, and stands, with difficulty, pushing himself to his feet as he slows, the desk somewhat… between them now and on fire, and he wasnt keen on getting singed JUST yet. "… I will give it to you on my honor, but put that OUT or I may drop it halfway through from the heat. " he notes.

The old man takes the stand here - Raising his wand, and muttering. "Aguamenti." His wandtip erupts with a jet of water like a fire extinguisher, drenching the burning desk with water and putting it out in seconds. It dies away when he's finished, and his other mottled hand is held out for the book. "It seems that the Lima Press will be open tomorrow. Did Mr Willis discuss his invention with you at any point, Mr. Ollivander?" He inquires, his fellows strangely quiet.
It's a loaded question.

Chaucer scwls at the mess, glowering embers himself at the man as he hands the book over, not at all offering to wrap it like he usually would. He stopped, thinking deeply for a moment " I dont think I even got that far in the book, much less spoke to him beyond the usual submission forms, so no, He did not."

"That is for the best." The old man takes the book in one hand, the crumbling, burned parchment making him chuckle. His face unreadable, due to the obfuscation that covers it. "Good. It goes without saying that if this ends up reported… I'll revisit." The book is held close, and orders are given to the two fellow dark wizards. "We depart. Narelle, the door." Narelle taps the wand with her lock, just once, and it unlocks easily. "Mr. Ollivander. Good day." He offers his farewell, before the trio begin to depart. No payment, even. Leaving the burned desk, and parchment in their wake.

Chaucer glowers after them, and mutters "Been waiting over fifty years. Like hell I'm letting you go." he notes.

A scrap of paper is left behind at the scene. The following are it's contents. Burned, fragile, and mostly illegible.
"… Shows greater capacity for thought, speech and motor skills than…
"… Seem to have distant recognition…"
"… bloodlust. Contrary to expectations, the heart provokes…."
"… monstrous. The sheer act of killing…"
"… necessary evil. The Amplifier is…"
"… abandoned due to inconclusive…"
"… a literal army…"
"… tide of the dead."
"… prototype destroyed."

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