#cn: open

[yxxley-blog]

in the ministry of magic atrium, october 2nd, 11:30am

To say that the end of the evening had taken them off guard was a vast understatement. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t been expecting something. Their conversation with Potter had been in their mind in the moments leading up to midnight, and they had known whatever was coming wasn’t good. So when they opened the envelope and immediately knew the answer, even before the word had appeared, even before the body had appeared, their blood ran cold. Not even everything that had happened with Alecto before that could stop the sudden onslaught of paranoia.

And it had only been nursed when they had arrived in the Department of Mysteries in the morning and found even more troubling information about the event. It felt a little like a personal warning, although nothing at all pointed to them. It had them on edge nonetheless, enough so that Yaxley couldn’t sit at their desk much longer even after a few hours; they needed air if they were going to get anything productive done. But, of course, as soon as they stepped off the lift, they nearly knocked someone over in their bid for a break.

“Excuse you,” they practically snarled at the person unfortunate enough to get in their way.

[bagnclds-blog]

date: 7 October time: around 10am location: just outside the Minister for Magic’s office      ( open )

She had a migraine.

Frankly, that was an understatement, and the overly-strong tea she held in one hand wasn’t doing anything to help her. She’d been in Minchum’s office for the better part of three hours, hashing out his reaction to the Doge case, trying to get a feel for what he was going to say as soon as she let him speak to the press, trying to do any preemptive damage control that she could. And in the better part of three hours, she hadn’t gotten bloody anywhere, but that wasn’t too surprising. 

She stepped out of his office, taking a couple of deep breaths, pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand.

     ‘Come on, Bagnold, get it together,’ she muttered, and then opened her eyes, surprised to see someone standing in front of her as soon as she did. ‘Sorry. Hi. Can I help you with something?’

[winetovinegar]

October 6th, 1pm, outside of the Magical Menagerie 

The more he listened to all of the talk, the more he realized that he had somehow managed to pick the worst time ever to decide to try to be a functioning human being, but wasn’t that just how things went for him? It wasn’t like it was a huge surprise that the week he managed to force himself out of bed to (unsuccessfully) apply for a few jobs around Diagon Alley was also the week that traitors were apparently being carved up and killed. Kind of made him feel like being out and about was the wrong choice, but his bank account was in dire straights, and even he could only live off of coffee and stale crackers for so long.

He had stopped outside of the Magical Menagerie for a cigarette, trying to decide if it would be worth it to mention his expertise at handling rats when asking about a job, when his eyes caught the headline of an abandoned copy of the Daily Prophet fluttering around the cobbled sidewalks. More bad news, more death. Suddenly he wasn’t so worried about the rat thing anymore.

“Well, shit.”

[afterprcngs]

location: Crouch Manor time: 7 pm date: september 30th ( open )

Something about the envelope tucked into the pocket of his dress robes wasn’t sitting right with him. Once upon a time, James Potter loved secrets, loved surprises, loved mysteries, hadn’t been able to get enough of them. Now, though, well... he wasn’t quite that man anymore. He kept patting his chest, where the envelope was, like he’d be able to feel if it was about to explode, or like he was making sure it was still there and not doing anything an envelope shouldn’t do. 

It was unreasonable, maybe: this was a Ministry party, not an Agatha Christie novel, after all. The envelope was unlikely to be some kind of horrific delivery method for a deadly toxin, or a note accusing him of some terrible crime he’d committed in his past. But it was off, he thought, and maybe he was just overreacting, but his instincts had served him well for a long time. Alright, sure, maybe not always well enough. But it was enough to set him on edge, nevertheless, enough that he jumped, just a little, at the unexpected voice of another person at his shoulder.

     “Sorry, shite--”

[ofvanities]

location: diagon alley, quality quidditch supplies

date: october 2nd

time: noon

status: open to all

      “You want to be a quidditch player too? That’s amazing! I definitely see a strong chaser in the future. Come here, let me give you a hug. Good luck! Come see me when you graduate I’ll definitely have you on my team.” Emma looked up at the person standing besides her as she signed the copy of Quidditch Through the Ages that the kid she had been talking to extended to her. With a little hair ruffle, she waved the little boy goodbye and finally stood up, fixing her fancy robes.

It wasn’t strange that this happened whenever she went for a walk, especially in Diagon Alley. Most days she didn’t mind so much, but today it was particularly difficult to keep up with her followers, given everything that had happened just a few days ago. She couldn’t believe these kids were already growing up in such a fucked up world. She shrugged, shooting a glance to her new companion. “I suppose you don’t want an autograph too, right?”

[thundrstorms]

location: Thorfinn’s apartment time/date: 10:50am, october 3rd status: open

He was used to early mornings due to Quidditch practice, apparating back up to Scotland at 6am every other morning for the usual 4 hours of intensive flying and laps around the pitch. Usually, he loved it, it was only days like today that made him feel exhausted. The night before being a drunken haze and his hangover well and truly in full bloom. Back in his apartment in London, Thorfinn had found himself sprawled out on his sofa with a half-eaten piece of toast, black coffee on the side table and a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.

At the knock on the door, an audible groan of distaste huffed from the man's lungs as he’d pushed himself up and dragged his heavy feet across the lounge. Opening the door, he wasn’t a pretty sight, messy hair pointing in all directions and his Montrose Magpies uniform dirty from a few hours before. It wasn’t his usual appearance, but with the way his head was feeling he didn’t care much for presentation at the moment. Narrowing his eyes and removing the cigarette from his lips, he exhaled a smooth line of smoke, “Can I help you? It’s a little early for a home visit.”

[septimaxx-blog]

location: amanuensis quills in diagon alley date: october 6th time: 6:47 pm availability: open

It was as a young child Septima decided one could never have enough quills. Though her office desk remained neatly filled with an assortment of pristine, untouched supplies, she still found herself wandering towards the quill section of the shop, slightly distracted from her original goal. After momentarily admiring the new shipment of self-inking quills, a few of which, she briefly considered purchasing, Septima turned her attention back to her original intents- a journal.

The professor was in need of a new place to keep her endless series of potential numerology exam problems organized after her previous one had been filled up to it’s entirety. She had always been one for neatness, unlike her father who would have shreds of parchment and glass jars of ink tucked into every odd corner of the Vector Manor. As her eyes drifted to from design to pattern, she found her interest piqued by a midnight blue, leather-bound notebook, sitting on the shelf to her left.

“Would you mind passing that to me? The blue one?” she requested to the person standing next to her, hoping to take a closer look at the object of interest.

[gidecnprewctt]

date: 5th October, 1982 location: Honeydukes, Hogsmeade. status: open

“But mum said—”

It was a refrain that Gideon had heard so often that afternoon that (like most things inclined to bother him that couldn’t simply be bulldozed through) he’d taken to cheerfully ignoring it — a move that had apparently incurred the wrath of the tiny face hooked glumly over his shoulder, bestowing judgment from behind his glasses over everything Gideon chose to do. “There’s no need to get so worked up about it, Perce, you’re the only kid I’ve ever met who doesn’t want to visit Honeydukes. Want a peppermint toad?”

“Mum said we were supposed to find Uncle Fabian, get the sprouts and come straight home,” Percy continued loudly.

Noting the eyes that had been drawn to their conversation with a wry flash of a smile Gideon offered a seemingly surprised, “Would you believe that this isn’t The Magic Neep? How careless of me.”