#managetheau2

James Potter was young, but he was a strong soldier for the Dark Lord, if he said so himself.  He was quite good and he liked when he was paired off with Sirius for missions. The two spared no victim, in the amount of blood and carnage that they left in their wake. When people begged James for mercy, he just hurt them worse and they fed off each other’s violent tendencies.  The mission was over now, and as he looked around, he spotted Sirius, and they were both covered in blood and there were bodies everywhere, and to make it better, they’d all been filth.

James didn’t like dealing with pureblood galas. He felt like he was above them. He was the only male out of the Black siblings, and he and Andromeda were twins. They both liked to be slightly judgy, but most purebloods were. After passing their mothers test of what the needed to look like tonight, he descended the stairs, unwilling to care about his other sisters or how they looked tonight, and finally found Andromeda. They were expected to look a certain way at these things and knew better than to displease their parents.

He then leaned against the wall, sipping a bottle of champagne, or whatever it was. “So, did you see how annoying one of the younger McKinnons looked when he came in tonight? His tie was a mess.”  

He swears he would break Ronan’s leg in five more places if it weren’t already plastered up.

Slamming the hatchback to the trunk, Alastor glares at the pile of things stuffed into it as he tries to riddle out how he got himself into this predicament in the first place. It’s not that he loathes the idea of taking a cross-country roadtrip. He’d fancied he’d do it one day. The trouble was he was doing it under unforeseen circumstances and ones he wasn’t wholly pleased with.

It was meant to be Ronan--his mate from pickup rugby games--and his good friend Aislinn Collins going for a trip. The other man hadn’t stopped talking about it over fish and chips for the past three months. But he’d gone and gotten himself a broken leg and a concussion from trying to do some foolish trip with a bike and a rocky hillside a week earlier and put himself out of commission. Alastor had gone to visit and as he’d walked out four hours later, he had himself an obligation to take the girl Ash on this daft trip. Ronan swears he’ll make it up to him somehow but he’s not sure anything could be enough.

Sat on a park bench, Alastor pulls out a lighter as he tucks a fresh cigarette between his lips. With a flick and a spark, the flame trembles from the top and he holds it to the end as he takes a deep inhale and watches the embers appear, smoke rising. The lighter disappears back into the inner pocket of his jacket as he exhales the first drag and rubs his free hand over his haggard face.

It’s been too long since he properly slept.

And it’s that damn thief’s fault.

The Ash Thief, they were being called. A signature trail of ashes being left behind at each scene of the crime. The forensics team had come back each time with a different type of wood: apple, cherry blossom, cyprus, oak. Never the same tree (once it was bloody cigarette ashes). The only thing they had to go off of was that every tree used could be found in this very park. So the culprit had to be close by.

At this point, Detective Moody couldn’t care less where it was coming from. They just needed to solve this case so he could take a week off to recuperate.

“Jus’ let m’sleep, you daft fool!” he finds himself calling out into the darkness surrounding him. “I ain’t even bother wit yer thefts anaemore. Give yerself up so I can get some bloody rest alreadae!”

Stepping into the small home, Emma shoves her shoes off at the front door and bends down to straighten them just so before moving further into the house. She could call out for him, but she’s nearly certain she knows where she will find him and he wouldn’t hear from there. Her fingers tap against the wrapped package in her hand as she moves to the back of the house, passed the den, into the kitchen and to the back door.

“Sev,” Emma calls as she steps out into the lush garden--the real glory of the small flat at Spinner’s End--and ducks under the sprawling branches of the lemon tree. “If you’ve gotten bitten by the Titular Spider Vines again, I’m not helping you salve it.”

marleneadairamckinnon

Well this was an unfortunate turn of events. Sean cursed himself for having not been more careful. But then, what the hell was Marlene doing there seeking him out? This was not part of the plan. There was fresh blood on his hands and no amount of words could get him out of what Marlene McKinnon had just witnessed. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, almost nonchalant, the red gleaming from the moonlight as well as off his wand which he gripped tightly.

“Sorry, love. Looks like plans ‘ave changed.” As if she was supposed to know what that meant. Without warning he threw a stunning spell her way, shocked and unprepared by the murder she’d just witnessed. She went down easy. Sean was not happy. This would certainly make his future endeavor and efforts that much more difficult. With a sigh, he got to work cleaning up the mess he’d made.

When Marlene would awaken, she’d find herself exactly where Juliette had before she really died. Strapped to a chair and made vulnerable in a dark and cold concrete structure. And as bittersweet as this would be, Sean Travers would still enjoy himself. Marlene was going to die either way. But he had a bigger plan for it. 

Alastor can’t tell if he’d been asleep for a few minutes or a few hours, sprawled out on the small sofa in Minerva’s front room. But the moment he hears the sound of wailing cries, his body moves into action even before his mind catches up with him. He’s been camping out with Minerva and her newborn for a week now while his own flat gets renovated and he doesn’t know how many times he’s gotten up so far to look after the little one but it just happens.

Bleary eyed, wearing only his checkered pants, Alastor takes a moment to lean into Minnie’s room. “I got ‘er.”