Slow Saint

by riptey

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related characters or ideas.

***

Brushing from whom the stiffened puke
i put him all into my arms
and staggered banged with terror through
a million billion trillion stars

"a man who had fallen among thieves," by ee cummings (lines 21-24)

***

Prologue: The Tribe of Benjamin

He'd never seen anyone less scared. He thought he saw a slight glimmer of curiosity for a second, but that was it. There was something very peculiar about this man, and Benjamin felt his hand begin to shake ever so slightly. The man looked into his eyes, and for a second he had this strange feeling like his mind was being unlocked and opened, and he imagined wildly that the man could see his thoughts. He shook his head to clear it and realized he was beginning to feel afraid himself, and he wasn't sure why. It was strange for a person to give a gun no more than a passing glance when it was centimetres from his nose, but it wasn't that. He just had this funny feeling that something wasn't right. He pushed aside his unease and straightened his arm.

"Give me your wallet."

"My what?" the man said disdainfully.

"Your wallet. Give me all your money."

"My money would be useless to a creature like you," the man said, and he actually sounded bored. Benjamin pulled back the hammer, hoping to get a reaction. The man looked at the gun again for a second, and then he turned to leave. Benjamin's first instinct was to let him walk, because as soon as the man had turned away, he'd gotten an intense feeling of relief. On the other hand, he hadn't seen anyone else around that night, and this man looked extremely wealthy. He shouldn't have been taking a risk like this, but he was saving up for some new tools and sick of waiting. Benjamin didn't recognize the fabric or the style of his garments, but the long, heavy coat had a platinum clasp, and the ring on his finger was encrusted with emeralds and diamonds. He was also alone, and if he was armed, he probably would have made it known by now. Benjamin couldn't let this irrational surge of emotion keep him from seizing such a fine opportunity.

"Don't walk away from me! I said give me all your money!" he yelled at the man's back, but he kept going. Benjamin aimed a few metres above the man's head and fired a warning shot, and he stopped but didn't turn around. Benjamin closed in on him and pressed the weapon against the middle of his back. Firing a shot was a really stupid thing to do, but he was so shaken up that he wasn't thinking straight. He'd just given himself a time limit before the cops might show up, depending on who was around to hear that, so he had to hurry now. "Now you know it's real and loaded, so you better empty your pockets quickly, before I lose my patience."

"I'm not sure what you're talking about," the man sniffed arrogantly, "but I already told you: you don't want my money."

"Give it to me anyway," Benjamin ground out roughly. He'd been feeling better a second ago, but now that he was standing so close, that weird feeling came back.

"I might as well. I've no use for this money anymore, either," he said bitterly. He reached inside his coat – more of a cloak, really, but either way it was much too warm to be wearing it – and Benjamin jabbed the gun hard into his back, just in case he was going to pull out something other than cash. He produced a handful of thick coins and cast them to the ground, and it was too dark for Benjamin to see them very clearly, but they were certainly not pound coins. They didn't look like any money he'd ever seen before, except maybe Doubloons from movies about pirates.

"What the fuck is that? I don't know what the fuck you're playing at, but you're going to regret it if you don't give me something better real fast. Give me your ring."

"No," he said simply. Benjamin jabbed him with the gun again, but the man really didn't seem to care. Suddenly, he felt a wave of nausea, and he lowered his arm and took a few steps back. The man turned to look at him again, and his eyes were piercing even in the darkness. Benjamin bent forward in pain, and the man looked at him curiously.

"What's wrong with you?" Benjamin demanded, clenching his teeth, but there was no answer.

"Is there a place to sleep around here?" the man asked coldly after a long moment, seemingly unaware of Benjamin's distress.

"Who are you?" he asked helplessly.

"That is none of your concern."

"I'll show you a place to sleep if you tell me your name." He wasn't sure why he wanted to know that so badly, but this man was unlike anyone he'd ever met before.

"Saint," the man said after a moment's thought. Benjamin thought that was quite a strange choice, if the man was going to lie.

"Saint what?"

"Saint Paul," he said, and he didn't need to think about it that time.

"Where did you come from?"

"That doesn't matter. You can't go there, and I can't go back," the man said. That should have been another sign to stay away.