#imarymac

VI Quote of the Week:

There were some things Lily liked to keep separate when it came to her Muggle and Magical lives. Although she was a strong advocate of supporting and mixing the two - especially under the growing scrutiny and hostility on such a combination that bubbled from the times - she often sought to abandon magical abilities to keep herself grounded. Surprised. Humbled.                -- far-from-wilted, Of Nursery Rhymes and Jumping to Conclusions

Admin Picks of the Week:

“I don’t know that confused old ladies would want to write to me for advice,” Mary shook her head, laughing. The amusement on Edgar’s face showed that he had a specific idea in mind, though that clearly made the idea more humorous than it was to her. “I’d probably have to pretend to be a wise old lady myself just to get people to listen to me.” Otherwise who would take her seriously?                                                                                -- imarymac, Researchable

“Well, I hope your business went well, then. I do hope Professor Dumbledore isn’t in trouble,” she laughed. Then regretted it. Why on Earth would Professor Dumbledore be in trouble? And who would laugh at that! She really needed to get herself under control, if Alastor Moody had business with Dumbledore that would bring him to Hogwarts often, she’d have to get over her nerves at being near him.                                                          -- charity-h-burbage, Sort-Of Acquainted

Time: 17:45 pm.

Location: Downtown London

@imarymac

Marlene’s experience with goblins up till now was reduced with dealing with the bakers at Gringotts. To her, they had always seem very severe, somewhat grim creatures. They used to scare her when she was a little girl and accompanied her father to the bank and they would look down at her from their large desks with their dark beady eyes and permanent frowns. But as she outgrew that childish fear, she decided that they were not particularly malicious. To be honest, she did not give them much thought.

Because of this, she had been quite surprised when Dumbledore sent Mary McDonald and her to meet with a group of them in some underground goblin bar in London. Even more surprising was to find out that spies might indicate that the goblins were considering an alliance with Voldemort and the Death Eaters. It did not add up. Pureblood supremacists not only looked down on muggles and muggleborn. They considered other species inferior too, including goblins. Wars had been fought over that, any student at Hogwarts knew that. Why would the goblins ally themselves with the people that despised them and that they despised? 

What she did understand was the importance of counting with the goblins’ support. No wonder Dumbledore was worried they might be considering joining the Dark side. Goblins controlled the majority of the economy and financial landscape of the magical community in England. They concentrated the entire power of Gringotts. Not to mention their silversmith capacities to produce countless of valuable objects. Their help could mean a great advantage for one side, and a hard backhand.

She did not know how to deal with goblins. She knew they were cunning folk, and while she was smart too, she was not sure of how a goblins’ mind worked. They were so hermetic with their business. Kept themselves and their dealings to their own community. Even the place the meeting had been arranged was and exclusive goblin bar. It had been hard enough to get them to agree to a meeting. They had been adamant of it taking place in their territory.

So there she was, following a goblin through some narrow hallways inside a gloomy building with Mary by her side. She found comfort in her wand tugged safely into one of the pockets of her red coat. She’d chosen an outfit that was both eye-catching but formal, unsure of what goblins would expect. Loose, high-waist black formal pants, a red sleeveless V-neck blouse, heeled red ankle boots, a crimson cloak with a fur collar, short black gloves and a black hat. She knew they liked jewels and metalwork, but she did not want to seem overly ostentatious, so she was wearing a single golden ring and stud earrings with red amethyst. She had considered a more sober outfit at first, just black, but at the last minute she had decided that might look too much like her field attire as Hit Witch, and the last thing she wanted was to give these goblins the impression that she might be bringing trouble with the law their way.

Date: February 26th, 1980 Time: 11:45pm Location: The Leaky Cauldron

Another night like most nights. Walden found himself in a pub, downing drinks like they provided him with life. It had been a little while since he’d gotten out of the house to drink, preferring to stay at home so he could combine his potions with the alcohol and spend his nights on the floor. It was a nice way to spend his days, but sometimes he craved more. He craved people and bodies, and anyone willing to give him a chance. He didn’t care who or what they were, he just wanted some good company and a mindless fuck at the end of the night, no pressure for more, no attachments.

And tonight he wanted something new, so he was on the prowl. He had some usuals, a few people he could go to for sex, but they all had a certain flavour. He wanted something new.

He’d already tried a few people. There was a tall bloke in the corner who had seemed outright appalled by his advances, then there was the older woman hanging around the bar who had seemed keen but was obviously just there to be a tease. She hadn’t been seriously looking at him. The flirting had been fun, especially the lad who hadn’t known what to do with him, but now he was getting bored of trying and failing. There had to be someone here who wouldn’t mind a back-alley romp.

Buying another drink, he spotted a young woman across the bar. She was very beautiful, with a pleasant smile and soft look about her. Not necessarily his usual type, but then again, his usual type had rejected him that night and really, anyone was his type.

Taking his drink, he moved to stand next to her. As he leaned against the bar, he glanced over with a smile. “So, what brings you here tonight? Work, weather, the wonderful company?” he asked with a laugh, taking another swig of his drink. It wasn’t anything in the way of a decent pick-up line, but he was a few pints past actually trying.

Sitting down on one of the stool, he turned himself so that he was looking out at the pubs and the people bustling about. If he was rejected again, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do. He could always wait around and pick up the scraps too drunk to make a good decision. It was usually the ones that stayed until the last call that were desperate enough to jump into bed with anyone that moved anyway.

“Rosier?”

Evan glanced up from the paperwork he’d been in the middle of signing off on and frowned faintly. “Yes?”

“Memo from Crouch. Need to be communicating with the public. He wants you to contact the Prophet and help them draft a column about your department.”

He straightened from his desk warily. “Does it have to be me or can it merely be a representative?”

“You’re the head of the department yes? Then that means you. Here’s the contact information we’ve been given.” The secretary glanced at his watch and then nodded officiously and marched off.

Evan scowled at the card he’d been given then cursed doftly and glanced at his pocket watch. So much for his plans. Grumbling he started clearing off his desk, filing the remaining paperwork and re-stacking what was left. When he finally abandoned his desk, it was pristine as if no one had ever even sat at it.

One Sick Secretary, A Janitor, Medusa Later

Evan’s face was one of disgust and irritation as he crumple a fresh paper towel in an effort to dry hands for the third time in the last forty-five minutes. This is why shaking hands was such a bad idea if one wasn’t wearing gloves. He certainly regretted not having remembered that before he’d come in.

Not about to waste more time trying to find the woman he’d been sent to, Evan marched up to the first desk he spied and said, “Excuse me, could you direct me to a Ms. MacDonald?”

Daisy knew she would be late, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave until right before the time she was supposed to meet Mary. Being early and just standing around outside the Leaky Cauldron for Merlin-knew-how-long was pretty well out of the question. After the threats she’d recently received she was honestly a bit wary about— well, being anywhere other than Tilden’s, really. She couldn’t even say she felt safe at home, not when the letters had been sent to that address.

But she had responsibilities to the Order and she wasn’t going to slack on those! She wasn’t being given any missions these days, and she didn’t have any real skills to contribute; there was no chance she was going to blow off one of the few tasks she was given, like patrols. Frankly, she was surprised they were even letting her do this much, after the mess she and Sirius had gotten themselves into on their last patrol. Mary probably wouldn’t talk her into breaking into any government buildings, at least.

Reminding herself not to worry and that everything would be fine, she Disapparated, reappearing on the other side of the city a moment later. The sky was beginning to grow dark, but there was still plenty enough light to spot Mary standing just outside the Leaky Cauldron, where they’d agreed to meet. She hurried over to her, giving a quick wave to get her attention.

“Hi Mary! Sorry I’m late,” she said, as she reached the other witch’s side, giving her a smile. “How are you? Where do you want to start?” It was a pointless wish, but she really hoped the older girl would just say Diagon Alley. They needed to patrol Knockturn Alley, too, she knew, but couldn’t help but be far less keen to do that. There wasn’t much chance of getting into trouble here in the more reputable part of wizarding London.

VI Quote of the Week:

She was talking to him though, and he frowned, not totally sure of where he stood in her esteem. Was her comment supposed to be gentle teasing, or was it supposed to be an insult. One hand raised reflexively to the front of his shirt, ready to tug at the chest as he had often done at school, when ill fitting clothes and scrawny frame had combined to form an awkward personage. He managed to play the movement off as an itch on his sternum.             -- notlibatiusborage, The Field Between Wrongdoing and Rightdoing

Admin Picks of the Week:

Hell, she wanted to jump inside that pen and lay down amongst a field of those furry little beast, let them climb over her with their tiny velvet paws and tickle her with those wee whiskers and cute little noses. Was it possible to take a bath in baby cats!?                                                      -- cherrybomb-witch, Human’s Best Friend

Eager to change the subject, she tried to think of some other small talk they hadn’t covered, but the silence stretched. Small talk wasn’t her forte – she had a bad habit of delving into deep topics when first meeting someone, something the muggle hippies had loved, but that private wizards usually didn’t.                                                     -- charity-h-burbage, Interview With Destiny

Probably Mary? We are more or less the same size, and she does have pretty clothes. On the other side, Sirius dresses similar to me, only in male version. His clothes are look quite comfy, maybe I’d swap with him.

Drink The Night

Marlene McKinnon and Mary McDonald at the bar.