[outskirts of Inverness] Heart of Dust [Nolan]

Sometimes, there was no place to be like home. And at others, one felt the need to find some quiet, deserted place so awkward questions wouldn't be asked. This was one such occasion, and Dermod had no desire to tell anyone where he was going, though the truth was, he wasn't entirely sure himself. It was the middle of summer now, that brief period of the year when even the usually damp and windswept region of Cork was warm and dry. The writer never could abide such weather, and that was his excuse to vanish from the estate - alone - for a day or so. Or perhaps more, he hadn't decided, though he saw no reason to explain himself, even now whilst Rhiannon was home from school. He had simply informed them that he was going to be away for a short time, and walked out of the castle.

Even years after the final battle, Dermod was still struggling with the after effects. He still didn't entirely accept that he would never regain the same level of wand skill as he had once enjoyed, but it was difficult to practise at home. He didn't feel comfortable trying out spells that had once been second nature - what if Rhiannon were to discover her father trying to successfully perform a transfiguration that any NEWT student ought to be able to manage? What if Gabriella were to find out and pity him? The latter was a horror that he wouldn't even admit to himself, so the former Death Eater headed down the familiar path from the castle, turned left past the rose garden - already a mass of multi-hued blooms - and walked to the edge of the estate. His heart was pounding as he considered his next move, something he hadn't tried for over three years.

Dermod closed his eyes, drew a deep breath, let it out, then took another. With his wand held in his entire left hand he concentrated on his destination, turned on the spot...and let out the breath in a sigh that might well have been relief.

It was the first time he'd tried mid-distance apparation in three years. And, as he was now standing in the outskirts of Inverness, a city where he had spent some time years earlier and thus remembered fairly well, he had succeeded. A quick glance down at his hands confirmed that he hadn't lost any more fingers; nothing hurt. "So far, so good" he muttered to himself, and then glanced around. There were a few houses in the distance, whether muggle or magical he couldn't tell, but either way they were too close for his comfort. So he walked, breathing in the air that was fresher here, though the temperature could well have been a degree or two warmer than back in Schull. He walked for half an hour or more, until he reached an area that was completely deserted, graced with windswept grasses, a few trees, and several large boulders, taller than twice the height of a man that cast long shadows in the mid afternoon Sun.

He pointed his wand towards the ground and summoned a few beetles wordlessly, the results bringing a small, grudging smile to his face. He was still working lefthanded, seeing how good his skills were. He cast Engorgio on the first of the crawlers, saving the rest for later in a vial he produced from within his robes. Had they known what was coming they would undoubtedly have run, for the one that was now the size of a large rat was now being manipulated in ways that no creature would ever want to endure. It was necessary, for Dermod wanted to practise his transfiguration skills, once exemplary, and he didn't like to try that at home. Oh, he could burn or destroy the twisted, tortured bodies once he was done with them, but there was always the danger of being overlooked...

Damn! The first one lasted only a few minutes, long before he had managed to become truly creative, and he cast it aside, tipped the next from the vial, enlarged it, and began again. So engrossed was he with his work that he would surely not notice if anyone approached, or indeed if the scenery around him changed.

The second one held more promise. Already the legs were of varying lengths, some still with their original exoskeleton, others equipped with human-like flesh and one he had silently transfigured to wood just to remind himself of how to do it. This had the added bonus of ensuring that his subject wasn't going to run away anytime soon; indeed, it was now crawling, or more accurately dragging itself, in pathetic circles on the boulder upon which the former Death Eater had placed it. He was just considering his next move when a tremor shook the ground. Dermod's heart leapt in shock and he automatically reached out a hand to steady himself, though simply bracing his legs against the movement was sufficient to stop him from overbalancing.

"Strange..." the Irishman muttered as the movement continued, some of the smaller rocks and boulders shaking and rolling across the uneven ground with the force of the quake. There was a slight uneasiness in his eyes, and instinctively the words of a couple of strong defensive spells were forming in his mind should they be needed. He was oblivious to the enlarged bug which had managed to take advantage of his paused attentions and, having falled from where it had been placed, was attempting to burrow into the earth - or maybe just repeatedly hitting what was left of its head against the hard ground. Instead, he began to glance around, wondering if it had been the right choice to come here.

And then he noticed something strange. Rocks in the distance didn't appear to be moving. It was almost as if this was a very localised phenomenon. Something to do with the underlying bedrock of the area, perhaps? Dermod frowned, glanced around and then turned to see whether the ground behind him was shaking as well...and started in shock.

There was someone else there. Another man, somewhat younger than him, but seemingly completely unconcerned by the quake - so unconcerned in fact that he was looking in the Irishman's direction with a challenging stare.  Instinctively Dermod raised his wand, but something in the other man's gaze stopped him from immediately firing off any spells as he might have done in the past. Then his heart lurched uncomfortably as he realised what was so strange. The other man wasn't holding a wand!

A muggle? Here? Dermod would have sworn, but for the fact that he didn't want to say anything at all thay might give away even the smallest cluse as to his identity, his place of origin, or anything that could be traced to him. For a brief moment he considered simply apparating away...but there was the small matter of the enlarged beetle. While he didn't care about the legalities of animal experimentation in the muggle world, he did care about the possibility of revealing anything magical to unfriendly eyes. He returned the man's gaze, wondering whether he should simply obliviate the man and be done with. Well, if he did that, there was absolutely no harm in speaking. At the very least, it would put the man off guard before performing the spell.

"Good day to you, Sir" he said quietly, determined not to be the first to break what seemed to be turning into a staring contest.

This had suddenly become very interesting indeed. Perhaps a normal man would have felt discomfort at being discovered, embarrassment or even shame at something he had intended to remain private and indeed had taken steps to ensure his family didn't know about, or annoyance at being disturbed. Aside from a momentary irritation that his experimentation was probably at an end, Dermod felt none of these emotions. Instead they were overtaken by curiosity and a rare breed of excitement that he had not experienced since...well, since he had fought for his life some years earlier. It was obvious that this man - whoever he was - as no muggle, and also could well be almost as well-versed in the finer arts of psychology as the Irishman. After the initial delayed response, Dermod could almost hear the other counting in his head before he spoke again. Far from making him feel at a disadvantage, it simply served to let him relish the prospect of the encounter a little more.

The idea of obliviation or anything else left his mind for the moment, though Dermod didn't lower his wand. While he felt in no danger, he wasn't about to do anything foolish like appear weak - or trusting. It hadn't escaped his attention that, while this man was clearly familiar with magic, he wasn't holding a wand, which suggested that he could be a rare student of wandless magic. If so, then this could be someone worth cultivating. Something that might be mistaken for a smile slightly warmed the ex Death Eater's face as he, too, allowed a comfortable pause before replying.

"Indeed. Not a pleasure you indulge in?" he asked, though his tone of voice clearly suggested that he didn't much care about the response one way or the other. Unless... no, that was ridiculous. The writer had never heard of any spell; advanced, dark or otherwise that could cause or simulate a localised earthquake. The quasi-smile broadened almost imperceptibly as he considered the other statement, glancing down as he did so. The beetle was still attempting to escape underground. There was something pathetic about it now. With a small shrug that communicated both apology for his brief departure from what looked set to be a fascinating acquaintance and yet a need to clear up unfinished business, he casually pointed his wand at the tortured creature.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Dermod was surprised at the intensity of the pleasure he felt casting the killing curse. It had been years, of course and at the back of his mind was the fear that he would no longer be able to cast it successfully. To rediscover his magical potency left him feeling exhilarated and for a moment nothing else mattered. Finally he recalled that he was not alone and commented quietly "I confess to being a little surprised at meeting anyone here today."