April 29th, 1891 — Muggle London

Are You the New Person Drawn Toward Me? | Walt Whitman

Obviously, Ford had jumped at this assignment when it had popped up. He didn't think it was likely that there was any actual spirit activity involved (in at least half his field cases, there wasn't), but the whole scenario was just so interesting. Ford went to Muggle spiritualist performances in his free time, after all (or he had, back when he'd had free time — he wasn't particularly expecting it to happen again until the social season wound down that fall), so the prospect of getting paid to attend one was one he couldn't have passed up, even if it turned out to be a waste of the Spirit Division's time. Besides, the Ministry was buying his ticket, which meant this was even better than when he went on his own time. He didn't even have to feel guilty about spending his pocket change on something that he enjoyed, rather than funneling it back into the family's general fund for new dresses and Grace's Coming Out ball and the girls' spending money and whatever else.

He'd bought his ticket and filtered into the room with a handful of Muggles forming the rest of the audience around him. There were still several minutes before the performance was set to start, and everyone around him was chatting. Some talked about the decor, some talked about their reasons for coming today and what they hoped this psychic would be able to tell them. One woman chattered loudly about her desire to talk to her daughter, who had left for America several years ago and may or may not have died since then.

Ford listened with polite interest, but then realized with a start that he wasn't the only one listening in. There was a ghost in the room — a real, actual ghost, not just a Muggle dressed up to look like one. None of the Muggles had noticed him or reacted, and Ford tried his best not to seem as though he'd noticed anything so that he didn't tip any of them off that something was underway. This case had just gotten far more interesting, however. Subtly, Ford slipped a notebook from his pocket and made a small note. He tried to keep an eye on the ghost without actually looking straight at him. He was hopeful that if he slipped out to the lobby Ford could follow him and ask what he was doing, but he didn't get the chance — when the ghost did float out, he went straight through a wall. Ford might have still tried to figure out how to follow him, but before he could work out which direction to go, the lights dimmed. The show, it seemed, was about to begin.

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Tycho Dodonus Roberto Devine

  

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Set by Lady!

Another day, another show. Tycho did not do this so much for the money as he did for the kick he got out of it. Besides, what harm did it do to have gullible muggles feeling a sense of peace when they truly believed he had relayed messages from beyond the grave? And those that did not wholly believe tended to enjoy the theatrics. Which really would be even more dramatic if Tycho could do non-verbal magic. But he was vaguely aware that doing so might bring the Ministry upon him and he would rather not be frisked by aurors. Enjoyable as that might sound in his thoughts. The reality would probably be quite different. And he was too pretty for Azkaban.

So, muggle methods of illusions it was.

Williams had stalked through the guests filing in and came to inform Tycho of the marks that he should be targeting to make for a great show as Tycho finished off his look. A light smear of castor over his eyelids and some charcoal for an eyeliner look. Not too much to look overly made up but enough to look suitably dramatic and mysterious. Clad in a dark purple velvety cloak and a veil over his features, he made his appearance after the lights had been dimmed.

"Welcome one and all. The spirits are very active tonight so please do not mind sudden noises," Tycho said in greeting to the crowd as he lifted his veil so that the crowd could look upon him. "I see we have some returning folks tonight. Mr. Jameson, I am afraid your dear wife still insists on not speaking until you have bought yourself a new hat." The man in question chuckled about how that was 'just like her'. Really, Tycho wished he would just get rid of that hat. It pained him to see it.

Williams came out and whispered into Tychos ear. Though the muggles in the room wouldn't see it. "Do we have a Mrs Mattheson among us?" He called out after dramatically rolling his eyes to the back of his head, causing a collective gasp from the crowd.

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*feel free to make up whatever 'spiritual' answer people are looking for too, I'll roll with it. xD

  

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A purple robe and a veil — well, that was very dramatic. Not that Ford could fault the man, since the Muggles reacted so well to that sort of thing. The 'mystic' pulled his veiled back and Ford thought he might have looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place him right away. He must have been a wizard, though. It couldn't have just been coincidence that a ghost had wandered through the room a moment ago, could it? Well, it could, but it seemed unlikely, especially since someone had gone through the trouble of making a report to the Spirit Division about this. If the ghost was just a passerby minding his own business, he was at least a regular passerby, which was still potentially problematic for an area that was highly trafficked by Muggles. Particularly Muggles who were actively hoping to start seeing ghosts.

Ford smiled at the comment that the spirits were active tonight and they ought to expect noises, as if spirits were capable of knocking things around or doing whatever it was this fellow had planned for the audience tonight. The theatrics about the man with the hat were a bit funny, too, but Ford didn't want to be outed as a skeptic quite so soon — not when there was an actual ghost here and he therefore had to do some real work before he finished up — so he bit his knuckle to keep himself from chuckling. Then the ghost reappeared, and Ford realized what was happening. Oh — that was actually quite clever. A ghost couldn't be seen by Muggles, so he could listen in on the audience before the 'show' started and pick up all sorts of helpful tidbits. It definitely wasn't allowed, but it was clever all the same.

Mrs. Mattheson was the woman with the maybe-dead daughter in America. Ford knew that even before she sprung to her feet. From the look on her face, anyone would have thought her last name was a closely guarded secret that this gentleman had uncovered, not something she'd been loudly sharing with all of her neighbors in the audience only two minutes ago. 'I'm Mrs. Mattheson!' she declared, already sounding on the verge of hysterics. Oh, dear, it was going to be difficult to keep a straight face through this. Ford didn't want to interrupt the show, though, if he could avoid it. These people had all paid their money and deserved whatever entertainment they'd come for, and it was clear that none of them could see the spiritual helper.

'Is it my Rachel?' Mrs. Mattheson asked. Merlin, they did make it easy, didn't they? Ford made a mental note to tell Lestrange about this later; he'd get a kick out of it, too. Ford glanced back at the showman and caught his eye for a second without meaning to. Maybe it had just been a coincidence that they'd glanced each other's way at the same time, or maybe the other wizard had noticed Ford trying to keep from sniggering at the performance so far. Hopefully not the latter — if he tried to put Ford on the spot to make an example of a skeptic, things were just going to get awkward. Ford looked down at his lap almost contritely and hoped the fellow would take it as a sign to ignore him and launch on to whatever he was going to say about Rachel.

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Set by Lady!

A woman sprung to her feet and Tycho smiled charmingly at her. "It is, indeed," Tycho answered. He always did his best to keep it vague if it was not definite that the person was dead. That way if they turned up, Tycho would claim it had been her spiritual consciousness that he had been in contact with. "She went to America, did she?" Mrs. Mattheson nodded so hard that Tycho thought her head might pop off. Poor woman. Hopefully he would give her some peaceful nights rest until the day came when she finally got real news of Rachel, whoever and wherever she may be.

Say, isn't that one of those Greengrass blokes? Williams whispered into his ear causing Tycho to glance in the direction Williams had indicated. "Went on a ship, did she?" Obviously, how else did a muggle travel? It wasn't like she could swim the oceans from here to America. Even so, Mrs. Mattheson was already in a hysterical state so she reacted to this like it was not something obvious. "Rachel is quite content and happy with her new husband - but the post tends to have a hard time reaching her." If she really was dead, that would be the reason why.

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The ghost was looking at him, and Ford looked very pointedly at the 'mystic' to avoid meeting his eyes. That would give him away as a wizard, if he let on that he could see him. Maybe he'd accidentally let on already, and that was why the ghost was looking at him in the first place. If the ghost ended up trying to strike up a conversation with Ford, though, or anything of the sort, things were going to get very messy very quickly. There were far too many Muggles around for this, and while the Ministry probably could send an obliviator Ford was sure that if he told his supervisor he needed one he was going to end up in some amount of trouble. Not 'lose your job' trouble, but at the very least he'd have to file some extra paperwork about his lack of discretion in handling this. Best to avoid that if he could.

The man professing to talk to spirits (oh, Ford supposed he did talk to spirits, didn't he? Or at least one spirit. So that was clever, too, and not actually a lie like it usually was at these kind of shows) really did look familiar, but Ford still couldn't place him. There were only so many options, though. It wasn't as though this fellow was going to be one of Ford's Ministry coworkers from another department, if he was off doing sketchy psychic shows for Muggles during the work day. He wouldn't have been one of the people Ford knew from running errands around Hogsmeade, either, for the same reason — he was clearly otherwise occupied during normal business hours. That really left only two options: Hogwarts or the club. Most of the members of Black's probably weren't much inclined to put on performances in Muggle London — some of them had never even seen a Muggle up close, Ford was fairly certain — so Hogwarts was the more likely option. Maybe around Noble's year, or a touch younger. They certainly hadn't been in any classes together, Ford didn't think.

He'd sort of lost track of the story of Rachel and Mrs. Mattheson, except that Mrs. Mattheson had ended up in grateful tears by now and someone else had risen from the audience to assist her back to her seat. Ford was looking forward to seeing who the psychic picked on next, since Mrs. Mattheson had been the loudest and most obvious choice; she'd given out the most details directly before the show. From here, the fellow might have to do some fishing, which was always amusing. Ford was smirking a bit at the thought of it, though tried to hide it by reaching up to rub the lower half of his face as though he had an itch.

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Set by Lady!

Tycho allowed a moment for Mrs. Mattheson to be taken to her seat. His eyes lit over the people before lighting on a nervous looking young man. From Williams's light stalking of him, he knew he was planning to propose. The man had also mostly kept looking at his tarot card deck so he could guess what it was that he wanted. "Young Mister Pike, I do believe you have come for a tarot reading." Tarot card readings were a little more precise without the assistance of magic. At least, as far as Tycho was aware. It could all be wrong but Tycho wouldn't admit to that.

"Please come forward and pick three cards," he said, just as a loud thump resounded through the room. He ignored it but it was enough to have the muggles feeling a little unsettled as they remembered his earlier words. "The cards see good fortune for you. Be confident and I wish you luck on your engagement." After him, a few more folks wished for readings and he obliged as the room got more 'haunted' with the help of Tychos paid assistants flipping switches and the like.

"The spirits are so restless. One of you has disbelief in their soul and offends them," Tycho said in his 'mysterious, speaking from beyond this realm' voice. His eyes landed briefly on the maybe-Greengrass man before picking on another man who looked like he was trying not to be picked on.

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The following 1 user Likes Tycho Dodonus's post:1 user Likes Tycho Dodonus's post
   Fortitude Greengrass

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Oh, they'd moved on to tarot readings. Ford wasn't half so interested in that as he was in the more far-fetched spiritualism like talking to the dead or levitating tables or whatnot. He'd never put much stock in divination in general, though he had sat still and let Verity read tarot for him on a few occasions when she'd wanted someone to practice on. It was no more accurate than what this fellow had been doing a moment ago, in Ford's opinion; all educated guesses based on little context clues. Verity's had been accurate enough, but that was only because she knew him so well already that there wasn't much left to guesswork.

The readings were going so quickly that Ford wondered if he was even looking at all the cards. Maybe Verity's took longer because she was less skilled, or maybe this gentleman knew that he could get away without doing much work, since the Muggles were likely to believe him anyway. In any case, they had barely gotten started with the readings when the noises started, and those were much more interesting to Ford. If they were mechanical, that was interesting in and of itself, because Ford always thought those things were a little neat — and doubly so because he couldn't notice the man giving the show doing anything to cause them, which meant he probably had assistance. If it was caused magically, that was interesting, too — but more because it was another potential violation of the International Statute of Secrecy, using charmwork to swindle money from unsuspecting Muggles.

Ford had been trying to imagine exactly what sorts of contraptions were most likely behind the noises as they went, and so he was fairly distracted when the mystic launched into his dramatic, spooky tone again. As a result, it was much more difficult to keep up the facade of believing in all of this (or at least polite indifference) and he found himself stifling a laugh behind his hand. This drew a look from the people around him in the audience, as well as from the mystic, so Ford supposed his stretch of time trying to lay low in the audience had come to an end. Oh, well; it had been a good show while it lasted.

"Yeah, alright," Ford said with a shrug. "I'm willing to believe I've offended a spirit," he said, with a playful glance towards the ghost behind the man's shoulder that he was sure neither the ghost nor the mystic could fail to notice. If the psychic wanted to pick on Ford, he ought to at least know that he was dealing with another wizard before he started in on it.

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Set by Lady!

Definitely another wizard, given that glance at Williams. Oh, how delightful! He would be able to say some things that the audience would eat up but would be a sort of... inside joke. Between himself, the maybe-Greengrass and Williams. "And I suppose you are the sort that does not believe in magic either," he said, winking, tongue a bit in cheek. The audience would probably take it as him mocking and shunning the unbeliever. But since the man was a wizard, he would hopefully take it as the jest he meant it as. The show was soon at its end anyway so they might as well have a bit of fun. "You better be careful, my dear sir. It is not a good thing at all to be so mocking of the dead." At this, a screech sounded and the sound of 'thunder', causing quite a few muggles to scream.

Tycho used the ruckus to 'disappear' from his spot on the stage which was just a cleverly hidden trapdoor before dispatching Williams to bring the man to him, if he would come. He was curious about why he was here in the first place.

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Ford's eyes lit up at the jibe about not believing in magic, though he struggled to keep his features impassive. He was already thinking of a quip to throw back, but it turned out he didn't get the chance. A screech, a rumble of thunder, and a brief flicker of the lights, and the man on stage had disappeared. Through a trapdoor, Ford noticed (he could see the edge of the floor settling back into place as the lights flickered back on), which was interesting when he could have just disapparated. Maybe he didn't have a license, or maybe he actually was trying to make an effort to abide by the Statute, aside from the help from his ghost friend. Ford chuckled at the disappearance, even as the woman seated next to him fainted onto his shoulder. Whoops.

After doing what he needed to in order to ensure the woman was seen to, Ford turned his attention to the ghostly fellow, who thankfully hadn't drifted off yet. There were still a few Muggles around, so he couldn't say anything to him, but he caught his eye. The ghost gestured towards a door at the other end of the room, presumably towards whatever constituted the backstage area. After glancing around to ensure none of the Muggles were paying too much attention to him, Ford slipped out. He immediately opened his mouth to ask a question, but before he could manage it the ghost interrupted him with, 'You'd better just ask Dodonus about it.'

Dodonus must have been the man on stage, then. Bit of a weird name, but it wasn't as though Fortitude Greengrass had any right to throw stones in that particular area. He nodded and followed his ghostly guide back until he was face to face with the mystic. "Well," Ford greeted with a grin. "It was a good show, I'll give you that much."

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Set by Lady!

The dressing room that Williams lead the man to was somehow  a lot more dramatic than the stage itself, it was also quite spacious. And in the center of it stood Tycho, still in his stage garb minus the veil. "Why, thank you. Did we have any fainting this time?" He didn't pull the disappearing act often, just once every new batch of people. If he did it too often, it would be old news.

"Tycho Dodonus is the name and whom might you be?" He asked as he poured himself out a scotch. "Would you like a drink?" His movements were like he was part-dancing, part-walking as he moved about the room, the human form of frenetic energy. Williams uttered an expletive about insensitive living people before disappearing off to wherever he went when he wasn't with Ty. "Don't mind him, he sometimes gets a bit moody."

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Ford was a bit caught off guard by how unfazed this man (Tycho Dodonus; weird name all around) seemed to be by the fainting, but he supposed he ought to have expected it if he did this show all the time. He hadn't actually researched how often it was scheduled, but surely it couldn't happen every day? He'd have to have a fairly robust marketing campaign to pull in that many new Muggles to sustain it. This wasn't the type of show that would see many repeat customers, aside from that fellow with the unfashionable hat from the beginning of the show.

"One, on my shoulder," he answered, his tone a little amused in spite of himself. He should have found it distasteful that this fellow was regularly putting women in distress like that, but Ford was having trouble mustering up the appropriate sense of outrage when the thing that had caused the woman to faint in the first place was just so silly.

The way Tycho Dodonus was bouncing around the room was a little dizzying, and Ford was having a hard time keeping up as he jumped from topic to topic. Now they were drinking? "Oh — er, I shouldn't," Ford said hastily, holding up a hand before the man could pour him a drink. "I'm technically working. Ford Greengrass, Spirit Division."

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Set by Lady!

"Oh, the poor dear. Some are such delicate hearts," Tycho said with a chuckle. He put the second glass away when the man said he was technically working. A bit more alert as he wondered what he might be here for.

"Spririt division? Oh my, what has Williams done now?" He couldn't imagine that they would have much business with him. Though he supposed he was technically Williams's 'guardian' since he provided him a home and occupation. He plopped down on his chaise with his drink. And Williams had been right, he was indeed a Greengrass bloke.

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This man had a way about him that couldn't help but make Ford smile just a bit, even when there wasn't anything particularly funny that he'd said or did. It was his mannerisms, maybe — it was like every gesture was a performance, just a tiny bit over the top.

"Well, unless this whole show was his idea, it's more what you've done," Ford said, though his tone was light. He didn't seriously anticipate any conflict with this; it felt less like Dodonus was deliberately making trouble and more as though this was just an avenue that hadn't occurred to him previously, so when Ford pointed it out it was bound to be resolved without much trouble. Dodonus had used a trap door instead of apparating, after all, and there had been countless other opportunities when he could have used magic around the Muggles to make things easier and had gone with the more mundane route instead.

"Using your friend to scout out the audience before the show," Ford explained. "It's clever, but unfortunately it's too much of a risk. One Muggleborn child or a minor hedgewitch wanders in and suddenly you'd have a whole scene on your hands, and a room full of Muggles the Ministry would have to obliviate."

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Set by Lady!

"Little, ol' innocent me?" Tycho asked in genuine surprise though there was nothing little nor innocent about him. Though in this case, he had genuinely thought it would be fine. Williams wasn't harming anyone and none of the muggles could see him. And when no one had said anything in the past couple of years, he had continued to think that it was fine.

"So, you here to throw the book* at me?" Tycho asked teasingly, never mind that the phrase didn't technically exist yet. Phrases just seemed to come to him sometimes and he tended to just roll with it. "Come to drag me to the clank?" Tycho didn't think he was. The mans attitude and tone had more of a 'I've come to give you a slap on the wrist' sort of vibe.

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*this phrase will not come into use until 1932 but Bree said this when I was whining about it in the cbox so it's now also a Tycho Thing: "character idea: a seer who knows what phrases and slang will be popular in the future"

  

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Ford raised an eyebrow at the first question. He assumed from the tone that the man had to be making fun of him, but he really didn't understand what about. What did books have to do with anything? Ford had an impulse to look around and see if there was a stack of books somewhere in the room that he was missing, but stopped himself. He'd spent too many years in Hogwarts being bullied to walk so easily into a situation where someone could laugh at him for not being in on the joke.

The phrase drag me to the clank at least made sense, although it was no less ridiculous. Ford knew he didn't look like he was capable of dragging anyone anywhere, much less to jail. The worst that would happen might be that he'd get a fine levied against him by the Ministry, but even that was unlikely if he agreed to just stop parading his ghost friend around in front of Muggles (speaking of which — Ford really ought to be talking to the ghost friend in question, but hopefully he wouldn't mind, since it had been his idea in the first place for Ford to direct his inquiries to Dodonus).

"Only if you resist," he teased back, with a chuckle. "But seriously, you'll need to stop. Why not just send a living person out to listen in?" he asked, with genuine curiosity. Dodonus clearly had at least one other person involved in this, controlling all the noises during the performance. There was no reason why the same person couldn't go listen in on the beginning of the show.

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Set by Lady!

"But it isn't like he's harming anyone. No one can see him and I had a backup plan for those instances that I will never get to use," Tycho said with a mild pout and more than a bit of a melodramatic whine, as if Greengrass had destroyed his whole reason for living. Which he had not done, of course. "I send Williams in because he likes to feel useful and it comes in handy if I forget what intel I got during the show that he can just come out and whisper it in my ear without anyone knowing."

They could not do that apparently. He would find a way around it, he usually did. "You may consider me to be in easy compliance with the man." 'The Man' being the law. "Shall we have a drink to celebrate your job well done?"

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