#neqstarter

Valerie was aware the curfew was in nearly half an hour but she wasn't ready to call it a night just yet. Recently, for some unknown reason, she'd found Diagon Alley an escape of sorts, at least the less popular shops. She supposed it was due to the fact that she didn't have to talk to people as much as she would have to at home and, really, Valerie had always been quieter if given the choice. So she wandered from shop to shop, not making any significant purchases, just enough to give her some purpose.

The shop had been teeming with people all day – Daisy hadn’t even had a chance to catch a lunch break, the crush of people had been so continuous and so demanding. Even Todd, her elderly manager, had remarked that, in all his years of business at the low end of Diagon Alley, the Junk Shop had never been quite so popular.

Whatever the reason for the sudden influx of people, Daisy was more than grateful to finally find herself seated outside the shop on a little bench under a tree reading her favorite book and taking a much deserved break. She had packed herself a small meal of a simple sandwich and some peppermint tea she was sipping out of the thermos her mother had bought for her when she’d left for Hogwarts.

The sun was just starting to set over the bare branches of the little tree, and Daisy was enjoying the warmth of it on her neck, and the way it dappled the pages of the little romance fantasy novel she loved so much.

It really was a thrill to be doing something as mundane and simple as reading on her break at work, when so much had happened over the past few days. It was just another reminder that things could be normal, things could be simple, even when war threatened to overwhelm Daisy and everyone she knew.

She was about to turn the page when a slight shadow fell over her and she glanced up, startled, “Oh, oh my goodness,” she murmured, apologetically, shutting the book and fumbling for her thermos before it tipped off her lap onto the ground, “I didn’t even see you I’m so sorry.”

It had been too long since she had wandered back into the common world.

Inanna was growing out of touch with the goings on – she hardly even knew what the common consensus was about the new Minister, which truly was a crime. Things with Matthias had been heating up fairly quickly, and she was confident she could expect a proposal within the month. It would be scandalous of course, especially since she was only a month in her mourning for her last husband, but when had she ever cared about scandal.

It had been too long since Inanna Zabini’s name had been front page news of the Prophet, and all her carefully laid out plans depended upon that.

She hummed to herself as dusk fell slightly over Diagon Alley. She was glad for the change in the seasons – she preferred to do her shopping when the night began to fall and less people would be clogging the arteries of Diagon and she could move quickly and unimpeded. In winter dusk fell sooner, which meant Linton’s ridiculously stringent curfew laws would not be a problem.

Inanna stepped into the apothecary, glancing to the side where the display of poisonous and painfully deadly ingredients lay. She did need to stock up on her wares – now that a new wedding was in the works – but first she had to make sure no one would see her buying them but the shop clerk she paid in tiny favors to ensure his absolute and undying loyalty and devotion to her.

She glanced to her other side and recognized the figure leaning over the other displays, and sighed inwardly – her goal would have to wait.

“Well, hello darling,” she purred, as she made her way to their side, “Stocking up, I see? Nothing too dangerous I hope.”

The room was, quite literally, a haze of smoke. Sirius had lost track of the sheer amount of cigarettes he had smoked down to the filter as he sat in the corner of the Leaky Cauldron, in his usual spot with his usual drink, waiting for someone interesting to come in.

Typically, when he smoked this much, something was eating away at him; and it wasn’t that he didn’t have plenty to be on his mind. Between his father’s impending funeral and his lack of an invitation, the last conversations he’d had with several people (Mary, Ted, and Andie coming to the forefront of his mind), and this new Minister who talked loud but hardly had the good to back it up – Sirius had plenty to be brooding on.

But, to put it plainly, he was fucking bored of brooding. He wanted company – easy company and simple smiles – and the only place he could go for something as simple as that was a bar. There was a small part of him that felt more than a little guilty for stepping into a bar so soon after his borderline alcoholic breakdown, but he found it easy to shrug that guilt aside – especially when he was three beers in and at least a pack of cigarettes down.

Just as he was about to give up on the concept of anything interesting happening that night, the door to the Leaky Cauldron swung open and Sirius felt his whole body perk up (if he’d been Padfoot at that moment, his ears would’ve been up and alert and tail half wagging in anticipation).

“Finally,” he muttered, as he swung himself out of his seat. He grinned at the figure in the doorway, “Fancy seeing you here. First drinks on me.”

He was so done with moping.

It'd been a week since the party had gone so horribly awry, a new Minister had been elected, and Peter had grown bored with holing up in the Order's library to collate reports and code new ideas. He'd promised himself and his brothers that he'd be stronger, be better than he had been, and he couldn't achieve that trapped inside. Also Molly kept eyeing him with a singular expression that he had learned meant she was on the verge of an intervention. Molly's interventions always involved more food than he was comfortable with, and he was not eager to be told that he could find a nice girl if he wanted to. 

There weren't a large number of places he could go in Wizarding London to be inconspicuous, particularly since the new Minister had closed off Knockturn Alley until further notice. He prayed that Magi Mugs was far enough off the beaten path where he could chainsmoke, read, and down more caffeine than was strictly necessary, but as he sat in his corner booth, steaming mug of coffee in front of him, he heard the bell above the door jangle and looked up to see a familiar face coming through the door. 

No rest for the wicked, he guessed.

As the approached the booth he pushed his glasses up on his nose and sighed, "Is there a particular reason you're coming over here? Or is it just my lucky day to be tormented."

She was always amused with their ability with the words - for one could be loved by the people, even being the worst, if only he knew how to charm his audience. Cissa knew that anyone expecting the next Minister, whichever of the three it was, to actually do something was simply naive and stupid. Things didn't work like that - what those mand wanted was power. Be it to actually change something or to benefit themselves - what was more likely - it was power they were here for.

An election was the perfect time for a change in the Ministry, and thus, a delightful oppurtunity of keeping ahead of the Order. If the right choice was made, and if the right words were used, they could have the new Minister, and this way the whole Ministry in their hands - and that would definitely be game changing.

There was a reason why she was expecting so eagerly for this results.

Closing her exemplar of today's Prophet, Cissa decided that, at least, it was good the paper was supporting the candidate she was betting on - the masses could so easily be manipulated by that not so trustworthy paper that it was fun. It was only then she turned her attention to the place, and acknowledged the person walking straight towards her table, until it stopped in front of her. She slowly and carefully folded the paper, before turning to face the one standing there. "What can I help you with?"

Slug & Jigger’s seemed like her best bet, as book stores were never her thing, and she wasn’t in need of robes or an owl. Her fingers traced differed herbs and objects, wondering if anything was necessary, or what might come in handy down the road. Deciding against it Mary turned, slightly jumping when someone was close enough that she almost turned right into them. “Bloody hell, how long have you been standing there?”

Up until that night, this war never actually felt all that real. Well, of course it was real. People were getting hurt, killed even. Entire families were snuffed out overnight as if they never existed; agents eavesdropped on villainous meetings and passed word of their findings in dark alleyways – the sort of shit most people only ever expect to hear about in works of fiction, or grandparent’s war stories. But this was all happening around Gideon now. He was in those stories. He was one of those agents.

It wasn’t frightening, at least not in the usual context. Sure, the fact that at any given moment your life could be ended was undoubtedly accompanied by a certain amount of healthy fear. That was good fear, though. The kind that gets your blood pumping and lets you react at lightning speed when the time called for it. Instinct had kicked in when the giants attacked, and Gideon had sprung into action, helping anyone he could find to escape, all the while searching for his brother. Truthfully, it was energizing to finally be involved in some action. No way in hell he’d be talking about that during the next debriefing, but he couldn’t deny himself the simple pleasure of actually being of use for the cause.