Ghost Rum on the Rocks | Ares

[Deleted]

April 26, 2027

Walpurgis Night was around the corner, but the normally jolly Bludworth wasn't feeling all that festive. In life, Bludworth would shoot across the European skies on his broom eager to indulge in the bonfire-lit gaiety that was the food and dance of Walpurgis. Magic, music, hearty indulgence had been the only incentives to make him endure a wearisome flight. But with Hogwarts still gone and nearly all of his descendants having to attend wizarding school outside of the country, he could feel no excitement.

Starting three decades after he became a ghost, Bludworth had established a tradition of celebrating the beloved holiday with his living family members, but they were now scattered. Separated by the strictures that came with Hogwarts's ceasing to exist. Normally the Black Lake would've been the scenery for Bludworth's sulking, but to remain there for too long was a bittersweet reminder for him. And while he didn't want to wallow in the grave of his alma mater, he wasn't quite thirsty for company – dead or otherwise.

Thus the Three Broomsticks was not the establishment he floated into, but one more off-putting and not known to attract the more garden-variety customers...

The Hog's Head.

Bludworth's translucent form seeped through the entrance door into the pub, heedless to the one or two heads that briefly looked in his direction. He just floated up to the bar and “sat” on one of the rickety wooden stools. He withdrew the spectral duplicate of the poisoned bottle of spiced rum that ended his life over three centuries ago from his coat's inner pocket and took a hearty swig.

His cadaverous eyes glanced up briefly when they spied a familiar face behind the bar. A man whom he could only assume was the bartender stood behind the bar. As Bludworth studied him further, it was only a few seconds before he recognized him.

“Blow me down,” the ghost gasped. “Ares Lestrange.”

ares edward lestrange

[ares edward lestrange]

━ wasted on sunday, erase you on monday ━

MERLIN. ANOTHER WEEKEND AND A day had passed, meaning that Ares was right back in the place he was slowly growing to hate. He had been a bartender at Hog's Head for what felt like a while, when in reality it had only been three or four years. The pay was good, despite the fact the Lestrange didn't really...Need the job. His family's savings and even the inheritance from his parents' death was enough to cover him for life. Or at least a few years if he decided to blow it all at once like his younger self would. But that wasn't who the Slytherin alumni was anymore. He was a changed man! A family man.

As Ares gave the counter its usual wipe down, his eyes lifted as he heard a few patrons stir, sounding somewhat confused from what they were seeing. And while Ares had indeed 'changed', he was still a curious man nevertheless. But in that split second, the Lestrange wondered maybe if simply minding his business would've been better or not. A ghost like figure had entered the pub, deciding to take a seat on the wooden stools by the bar. The other patrons around already upped and moved their seats, heading closer to the booths instead. The Lestrange wasn't afraid of most things anyway, which most definitely included ghosts, but it had been a long while since he had seen one up close.

Once the figure settled, it wasn't long before the bartender realised who was simply sitting before him. Bludworth Bathory. Ares recalled reading a book or two on the man, born around the late 1600s and was the first Muggle-born Head of Slytherin. A peculiar man at heart, but still rather intriguing for the Lestrange, especially since he read the most ridiculous kinds of books in his prime. Books aside even, Ares recalled questioning the ghost whenever he found him roaming the halls of Hogwarts. Random questions of course, but they all peaked his interest regardless. As Bludworth recognised him, Ares couldn't help but grin. "Bludworth Bathory...Merlin it's been how many years?.."

| @dess |

sorry for the wait!

[Deleted]

Ares had been one of the pure-blooded Slytherins to never be one of his scaring targets during his days at Hogwarts, despite his surname. Bludworth had been schoolmates with the man's ancestors – all endorsers of blood purity. Thus, it had been a pleasant surprise that this former serpent's reproach upon first meeting was one of curiosity rather than malice. Gradually, the boy earned a fair portion of Bludworth's favor.

“Ye got me – a few years be lost in the sea o' eternity when it comes t' us ghosts,” Bludworth sighed, his cadaverous eyes surveying what was once a mischievous face sporting greedy eyes. “Look ah ye, lad...All grown up 'n servin' drinks in th' Hog's Head. Well...better here than Knockturn Alley, I suppose.”

The ghost chortled and pocketed the ghostly bottle of rum into his coat's inner pocket.

“Last time we spoke, ye were a glue-fingered thief in Slytherin robes,” he said nostalgically. “Ye been behavin' yerself since then, Lestrange?”

He asked this question whimsically doubting his answer would be yes.

ares edward lestrange
OOC: No problem!

[ares edward lestrange]

━ wasted on sunday, erase you on monday ━

WHEN ARES FIRST MET BLUDWORTH Bathory, Ares was still a young lad studying in Hogwarts. His features were less defined then, yet he was still a lanky teen. Genetics had been good to the Lestrange however as he grew into his height and his defining features somewhat resembled his father. Merlin, the amount of times he had heard about the resemblance between the two, he would've been a millionaire. As Bludworth began to speak, Ares forced a slight strained smile as he tried to understand the mans lingo and accent. It hadn't been a trouble in his younger days, especially since a lot of the Hogwarts students came from across the country but regardless, the Lestrange was willing to struggle now.

"How many decades or centuries has it been now? Are you not ready to rest at all?" The Lestrange joked, his lips working their way into a grin. "I think my parents would've definitely killed me if I ended up there..Plus here's a little more comfortable." Ares chuckled, wiping another area of the counter as he spoke to the ghost. "Same rum as usual?" He added in question, noting the rum in the ghost's hands. "Behaving nicely sounds..boring, wouldn't you agree?" Ares grinned, avoiding the males question. Ares' time as a thief had definitely declined over the years but it didn't mean he had stopped altogether.

| @dess |

sorry for the wait!

[Deleted]

The second question asked by the pureblood was a quaint one, for it had been one Bludworth had occasionally asked himself throughout the centuries he haunted the Black Lake. And the answer he would rowdily and internally bark at himself was the same he would jab verbally at Ares.

“Nah as long as thar be purist scum t' punish,” Bludworth purred, his voice tingling unashamedly with sadism. “Ye should know tha' me soul will ne'er be at rest as long as thar be snivelin' brats t' scare into madness...”

If Bludworth's eyes hadn't been transparent, Ares would have taken notice of the dark, deranged state they assumed. The connection to Slytherin House that kept him from crossing over augmented the hatred of prejudiced purebloods he had carried over from life into death; he viciously haunted any Slytherin who dared to mock his lack of magical heritage – openly or covertly.

“Ye were present fer most o' me hauntins, Lestrange,” Bludworth chuckled. “I'm certain the screams o' some o' yer fellow Slytherins still visit yer memory on occasion.”

While Ares's was usually an expression of intrigue rather than fear, Bludworth was willing to bet that he was grateful to have never been on his hit-list as a student.

“Ye know us spirits don't get t' choose wha' we hold onto aft our unexpected demise,” the ghost said matter-of-factly.

In all honestly, he would rather not have to carry around the reminder of the wench who poisoned him centuries ago, but he supposed it was better than an eternity of missing rum. Even if it was still mixed with the acrid tang of poison...

Bludworth's tone lowered to a near-whisper, and his cold form shifted closer on the bar. “Ye mean...ye still 'ave yet t' learn t' keep yer hands t' yerself, boy? I take it ye 'ave been swipin' from the more...affluent demographic instead o' ne'er-do-well classmates?”

ares edward lestrange

[ares edward lestrange]

c

━ wasted on sunday, erase you on monday ━

AS ARES CONTINUED TO STRAIN himself, from understanding the ghost, the Lestrange couldn't help but chuckle at Bludworth's words. "So you're still harassing those poor souls by the Lake I presume." Ares had technically been one of those teens at one point, but the scares from Bludworth had turned into minor research sessions with the ghosts, especially as the younger Lestrange was intrigued in the man's history.

Ares then nodded in understanding - he always liked to think that his parents haunted him for a little while after their murders death. Every now and then the eldest Lestrange held a guilty conscience for what he once did, from strangers to even what he did to his siblings and parents. But who didn't live a life without regret?

As Bludworth's tone lowered to a whisper, Ares couldn't help but chuckle. "My thieving days..aren't exactly over. But its been pretty stale for the last year or so..no reason to steal I suppose." Which was true, Ares still had enough of his inheritance left, and the monthly wages were enough to set savings aside each month, and spend as he wished to. Especially for his kids.

| @dess |

sorry for the wait!

[Deleted]

The term “poor souls” should only have applied to plaster saints who didn't so proudly voice prejudice. “Ha! A ghost without a knut t' his name – tha' be a poor soul, Lestrange. Me victims couldn't be poor souls unless ye swiped from thar pockets prior t' me scarin' 'em.”

While Ares was still a student, Bludworth always took notice of how much the boy had reminded him of himself in his youth; stealing from purists and getting away with it had been his clandestine pastime. He may have freed of his brutal life as a sea bandit, but his thieving nature had remained potent.

“Well, ye know wha' I always say: no coin hold more value than tha' swiped from yer enemy. I be certain business will pick up fer ye.

“So, how be the family? I believe Morgana 'n Rabastan met thar maker four years ago. They were enemies o' mine while still students ah Hogwarts, but me sympathy fer yer loss, nonetheless...”

ares edward lestrange

[ares edward lestrange]

━ wasted on sunday, erase you on monday ━

CHUCKLING ONCE MORE AS BLUDWORTH spoke, Ares shook his head. "They're poor souls regardless, whether I've swiped their pockets or you're scaring them." He laughed, knowing that even just a minor conversation between the two of them felt like his younger days. It honestly felt like yesterday when the Lestrange was pestering Bludworth with all sorts of questions, asking for facts and whatnot. Aside from the ones he had read in the library anyway.

At the mention of his parents, the Lestrange's eyes widened for just a moment. It felt like forever since he had heard those names, simply because whenever someone thought of Lestrange nowadays, the only names that were mentioned were his own. As well as his sisters of course. Smiling small while Ares went on to wipe the counter - i.e. pretending to appear busy - the Lestrange went on to speak. "Thank you but..no sympathy is needed here. Surely you know the weight the Lestrange name holds..my parents were just as bad as my ancestors supposedly were." Ares shrugged then.

| @dess |

sorry for the wait!

[Deleted]

Bludworth blinked in response to Ares's candid reply. Even if the Lestranges were notorious for their insidious actions, one would've thought this wouldn't damper the bond between parent and child.

“Jus' thought it would be the respectful thing t' do, lad,” Bludworth smoothly replied. “Lost me parents when I was but a boy...but I guess it still slips me mind tha' some scallywags should ne'er sire thar own children.”

Bludworth had only been four years old when he witnessed his parents having the life sliced from them by pirates. He took his revenge on Ivan Daggerhorn the night his being a wizard was revealed, but the scar remained fresh. And that was because his love for his late Muggle parents traveled with him into death.

“Ye don't 'ave t' tell me about yer ancestors, boy – I went t' school wit' 'em! Deplorable lot, they all were...”

ares edward lestrange

[ares edward lestrange]

━ wasted on sunday, erase you on monday ━

SMILING SMALL TO SHOW HIS appreciation, Ares began to wonder if the topic would change. He enjoyed the company of an old pal - of course but the topic of his parents and seemingly his past was one depressing thing he hated discussing. Sure, the Lestranges' as a whole had done more scandalous or horrible things to one another but the bond he held with his sisters was far greater than any legacy.

And the final details he could even remember about his parents was the fact that they continuously tried to tarnish whatever bond the siblings had. Laughing as Bludworth went on, mentioning his ancestors, Ares paused for a moment, deep in thought over a random thing. "What were they like? My ancestors?"

| @dess |

sorry for the wait!

[Deleted]

Oh, the countless insults and foul language that could've composed his answer to Ares's question. Such a rant would surely have kept them there until dusk, so he chose a more concise response.

“Spoiled, prejudiced, flamboyantly wretched biscuit eaters,” he traduced. “Got into plenty o' duels wit' 'em in between me classes – bested each o' 'em in battle, I did. I'll tell ye this: nothin' be more humiliatin' than losin' t' a wizard ye consider o' lesser blood.

“Me gang 'n I made a pastime out o' torturin' anyone who dared t' call me a Mudblood. Tha' pretty much be why the purists brats learned t' hold thar tongues around me. As a Muggle-born, I ne'er earned thar respect, but thar fear sufficed.”

ares edward lestrange