ORDER ONLY: Frank, Sirius, Kingsley

[alt_alice]

Check in, my lovelies!

At the very least, you three ought to have gotten over your hangovers from last night by now. What's the latest? Any luck tracking down Poppy's mysterious man?

Whatever you've found, I certainly hope that you keep safe.

And what's this "Yes and no" Sirius? You didn't try to infiltrate Harry's birthday party, did you? Because I shall have to be very cross with you if you did.

Comments

[alt_sirius]

Morning, Allie.

Er. Afternoon, I guess.

I'm not hungover but Frank is. Kingsley already went out and did a reconnoitre of the Knole (at least the southward end) and didn't see anything particular.

Last night we spoke to a few of the locals, who were all too quick to tell tall tales of an unauthorised centaur clan taking up residence in Knole Park, the ghost who regularly haunts the inn at Godden Green and most importantly the apothecary's son who made a cake of his life by carrying on a torrid liaison with the Chipstead camp administrator's wife.

Everyone agrees they've seen a gaunt, snag-toothed man, but no one seems to have the same theory as to who he is or why he's here. The most entertaining story was that he might be the fugitive Remus Lupin, come to take refuge in the leafy expanse of Knole Park - and the going reply to that is that the centaurs will make short work of him if he dares hunt in their backyard.

At any rate, Poppy's right that they all suspect he's an enemy of the Lord Protector ... but for some odd reason, they have not called on the MLE - yet. Frank thinks it may be a sign they don't want to chance it, if it's someone who stands opposed to the Protectorate. Kingsley's opinion is simply that there are enough violations of Protectorate mandates that they don't want anyone coming in to inspect them.

I'm inclined to think they've simply a clannish attitude and would rather capture this bloke themselves, if possible, and collect the reward.

And no, you don't need to be cross with me. I've been behaving! Well, apart from transfiguring Frank's trousers into kilts. Man has damn attractive legs, Allie, he should show them off more.

[alt_frank]

I'm not hungover.

much.

it's just taking me ages to work out this damn reverse transfiguration. I've got one turned back to trousers again, but they're still tartan pattern. damn you. thought I'd got you drunk enough last night so you wouldn't pull anything.

any road, they made damn sure there wasn't a whiff of MLE about us before they'd open up. one of them, that really old pubman -- Pope -- he even tested the waters by telling me about his semi-legal brewery business, and when I didn't jump down his throat for it breaking the rules, that's when he really started talking.

[alt_sirius]

Leave them tartan - you'll fit in when we walk the old golf course.

Anyway, if you don't hurry up soon they'll stop serving lunch.

[alt_frank]

fine, fine, I'm coming out.

but if you laugh too hard, I'm going to have to punch you.

[alt_sirius]

Again?

[alt_frank]

I only punch someone who deserves it.

not my fault that you're just really, really deserving.

[alt_sirius]

Wot? It's all about distraction. People here have their attention drawn to your knees, they're not going to look at that polyjuiced face.

Besides, an Auror I know once told me that if he lets himself get too incapacitated on his mission, he deserves a ribbing.

[alt_frank]

I'm sure as hell not wearing any kilts in public.

the tartan pants are bad enough.

...and point taken. it was worth it, though. they had stella on tap.

[alt_sirius]

Stella on tap - the import fees alone on that convince me that this town's got summat underhanded about it. It's no wonder they don't want MLE nosing in. Kingsley may have it right, after all.

[alt_alice]

Do us a favour, my dove, don't turn them all back.

And don't punch him too hard.

[alt_frank]

fine. I'll keep one around for laughs.

you do realise that the Longbottoms fought against the Scots, don't you?

[alt_alice]

I do.

I'm sure we'll get some use out of it one way or another.

[alt_frank]

minx.

[alt_frank]

and I am not dancing any reel.

ever.

so don't even try.

[alt_sirius]

Caradoc would be happy to get you a pair of ghillies.

[alt_alice]

He does, doesn't he?

Hm. That sort of thing is hard to suss out, especially if there are so many other stories and things floating around. And for all we know, if it even was him, he might be long gone by now. But it's still worth checking up on, I think.

And you still haven't answered my question about the party, love.

[alt_sirius]

You might tell him that, he's no sense of humour at all this morning.

It's true that we can't pass up the lead. Luckily we've brought along a champion tracker. Snuffles is always happy to follow the scent of trouble, no matter how ripe it might be.

What was your question again?

[alt_alice]

The question of what exactly you were doing at Buckingham, my love.

I'm not likely to forget it, either, even you are trying your best to make me think of Frank dancing a reel instead.

[alt_sirius]

Same thing I've been doing at Buckingham, Allie. Keeping an eye out.

Gotta go - Frank's wand hand is twitching.

[alt_alice]

...Fine. But don't think I'm anywhere near satisfied.

If it's the other way round, and someone had his eye on you instead, we'd be better of knowing about it than not.

[alt_sirius]

Oh, but Allie, I'm used to every bloke having his eye on me!

Though right now, I think it's more accurate to say they're all on Frank. Or at least his trousers.

Wow. He really wasn't able to get the tartan to change. And the back still has some pleats....

[alt_alice]

You would have made an excellent Quidditch player, love. Or a boxer. You're so very good at dodging.

Go off Snape hunting, but don't think you've heard the last of this.