The Devil went Down to Azkaban (Which isn't in Georgia)

Heavy black boots crashed like deafening thunder, echoing down the silent, bleak corridor. Red and black mottled robes dusted the floor lightly at the wizard’s heels. The leisurely gait was not one of familiarity with the place but rather the pace he took while reading and walking at the same time. That and as far as he was concerned, Vinzent Zolnerowich had all the time in the world. If the candidates he sought weren’t willing to make a deal with him, then it wasn’t that great a loss. He would just have to erase their memories to evade legal discomforts.

The wizard kept a stern and pompous demeanor about him. One could contest that this was Vinzent’s general personality, but within the prison the arrogance had heightened. After all: he had escaped a fate similar to these poor fools that had gotten themselves caught. Occasionally he glanced at the cell numbers or the prisoner within. Upon being snarled at by another wizard that seemed rather wolfish, Vinzent replied in kind. He wasn’t going to stand for their outbursts. If anything Vinzent wanted to take that attitude and shove it right back down their filthy throats, more than capable of being just as brutal as any one of the inmates if pushed just the right way.

The only drawback to that idea was that Vinzent was looking for a few good throats, as well as other connected body parts, to aide him in his cause from behind the scenes. That meant he would need to be ‘gentle’ with them... “Twelve-twenty-one!” the wizard barked. “JACKSON RIPLEY!” he shouted again when no response came.

“Yeah? Whaddya want? Make it quick. I ain’t got all day.” the prisoner in cell 1219 returned. A few of the other prisoners on the cell block laughed.

“Why aren’t you in your designated cell?” Vinzent sneered and stormed up the corridor to the prisoner.

“Call it promotion by assassination,” retorted the wizard. “You come all this way just to ask me that?”

“Hardly.” Vinzent stepped closer to the bars. “How would you like to get out of here in about a year instead of glaring out from these bars for the rest of your miserable life?” he asked, voice quiet so as not to stir up the other inmates and prevent being overheard by any other such eavesdroppers.

“Depends what you’re selling.”

“I’m selling you a chance at freedom, and a secure occupation, in exchange for working for me. I notice you’ve been trying to do some good work and society locked you up for it. Your work and mine are very similar, friend.”

“Is that so?”

“Indeed. And as a possible candidate for the Minister’s seat... I’m going to need a few good wizards and witches I can trust to get a job done, and do it well.”

“Just how are you going to get me out of here? And what’s the pay?”

“Excellent questions. I’ve already begun assembling some material for you. All I need is to confirm your cooperation before the appeal goes through. If it is denied, you’ll be let out anyway upon my ascension to Minister. As for the pay... I assure you I’ll make it worth your while.”

“And if you fail?”

“Always the pessimists, you jailbirds...” Vinzent smirked, maintaining an air of confidence. Appearing uncertain, and therefore weak, would be a fatal flaw. “I have plans – don’t you worry your little greasy-haired head about that. All I need from you is a simple yes or no.” In an instant the cocky smirk turned into a hardened scowl, his voice following suit: “Now which is it?"

“Fine. Yes. You’ve got me.”

With the return of a satisfied smirk Vinzent strolled off to the next cell of interest on his list. “Twelve-thirty-four... I understand you have always wanted to be a Healer. I could help you with that, and make this little black mark on your record disappear... for a price. Interested?”

And the hushed negotiations began anew...