Pick a Pocket or Two

[Dodger]

• The room was dank, shabby and cold. A meagre fire burnt pathetically in the grate, barely enough energy to light the little room let alone give it any sort of heat. The floor was stripped boards, creaking and loose, and the light from the floor below could be seen through the cracks. A chilled, December cross wind blew in through a broken window pane and into the already cold space. The crumpled up Daily Prophets which had been used to plug the gaps fluttered across the floor and were deposited in the far corner, atop a pile of rags which passed for a bed, for a pathetic creature.
  
  The pathetic creature in question, stood in a shabby blue coat, a green waist coat, tattered childrens trousers, mismatched brogues and a battered black top hat. It rocked on the balls of its feat, its large ears flattened against its head as it looked up into the craggy face of an old man, with an expression of utter adoration. The man was a pauper, of that there could be little doubt, how he came to own a house elf was a matter of some question, but the elf was indeed legally his and he had owned him since the elf was a child. The old man surveyed the elf as a king surveys a loyal subject, 'So, let us review your lessons,' he said clapping his hands together, 'What is it you do?' he asked.
  
  The elf, suddenly springing to life called back 'Dodger makes a dishonest living for Master Feligor'. He beamed pleased to have given, what he thought to be the right answer. The old man nodded his approval, pulling his own tattered blue coat tighter around him.
  
  Very good my boy he cooed, beginning to pace, 'Who do we trust? he continued.
  
  'Dodger and Master Feligor dont got no friends,' he repeated autmatically, as his master expected him to, 'Friendeses is just enemies in diguises, cant trust nobody.' he intoned, like a school boy at lessons.
  
  Seemingly satisfied he continued, 'What happens if we get caught?
  
  'Dodger does not get caught, Feligors elves does not get caught.'. He said and Feligor made a motion for him to continue in his little recitation. 'Or Dodger gets caught by nasty Aurors and puts in prisons, what ever happens he does not mention the master.' he said in his hissing voice.
  
  The old man seemed pleased and with a sweep of his hand a hankerchef dangled from his pocket, 'Now! for the practical element' he said and began to move around the room, imitating a wealthy wizard strolling through the town, looking in shop windows and browsing invisible stalls.
  
  Dodger bit his lip as he snuck along behind the acting wizard, getting as close as he could before using his magic to trip the old man, nab the prize and disappear before he could be stopped. Feligor straightened himself from his place on the floor. 'Well done my boy' he crooned smiling, and showing a mouth full of crooked teeth, 'Time to start earning your keep'.