Dreogan had over-anticipated and planned for pandemonium, having heard about arson at The Three Broomsticks only a month ago.  He’d set the meeting at Madame Puddifoot’s to try to counteract this, but it only took a brief glimpse as he had walked past to know that the Three Broomsticks was alive and well.  Mages; they were a resilient lot, though arguably Muggles had had to be much more so.  Things were not so easily repaired in that world, though it seemed just as easily shattered.

He was regretting the choice in venue now—the place all bedazzled with floating hearts and red and pink doilies in a garish display of romantic kitsch.  It was Valentine’s Week, after all. And here he was: showing up for an evening meeting with the single and undeniably striking Professor Maiko Bildeau-Yukawa.  He hoped it would not start any rumors. 

Today was a bad day for Maiko; he could tell the moment she walked in through the doorway, accompanied by the faint tinkling of bells overhead.  Maiko did not walk with any less grace than she usually did, but there was a look of concentration on her face, however slight, and a deliberateness in her movements that informed him she was calculating how best to move herself to avoid the pain in her joints.

“Maiko,” he rose and moved forward slowly to embrace her.   The hug lingered a moment.  Long enough to indicate a compassion and affection; he hoped not long enough for it to be awkward.  It would not help any rumors, he supposed, but he would not pull away affection when it seemed dearly needed.  Maiko could have no shortage of friends.  She was unwaveringly kind and agreeable, save that one duck incident.  But there was some connection they felt, and a sort of trust and protectiveness he felt towards her; she turned to him when she didn’t have anywhere else to go.

And she’d found him when no one else could.

“Have a seat,” he said, pulling the chair out for her and waiting before she was seated comfortably before settling in across from her, closing a heavy medieval tome that rested on the table as he did so.  He reached down at his feet to the hefty travelling case he’d brought in with him.  Madame Puddifoot herself had looked at him as though he were mad for bringing it in but, well, Dreogan had no way of knowing what the conversation might bring up, or what Maiko might need, and it was always best to be prepared.

This in mind, he pulled out a finely crafted crystal phial and placed it on the table between them.  “From my mother.”  He hoped she would not feel beholden, accepting it.  The Eleors liked to show the extent of their affection with their wealth at times; if the phial alone (to say nothing of the spendy ingredients list) was of any gauge of the woman’s esteem, she very highly regarded the young woman who had been so supportive of both her boys.  “It’s topical; she knows neither of us like swallowing more potions than we have to.”  His mother was an extraordinary potioneer, in his opinion—which was undoubtedly biased. Still, in the aftermath of the potions poisoning, more than a few friends and community members had personally requested Hestia Eleor act as their personal potioneer for a time.  It meant a lot that she’d already brewed the concoction for Maiko—even before he mentioned he would be meeting with her.

“How are you?” he asked before raising his eyebrows and looking at her directly. “Truly, now.”

Madam Puddifoot's had always been tacky and frilly--but today took the cake. The interior looked like the contents of Adelebert Hughes' wardrobe had a horrific love child with everything Valentine's. Mai could hardly even focus on the holiday, there had been so much going on. In many ways, she felt torn-- what was the point in having visions if you couldn't actually do anything about it? Then again, what if she could do something?

Either way, since she stopped taking the dreamless sleep potions, her visions had actually increased. She thought about approaching Ignan Storm in order to take some occlumency lessons, but he had brushed off her concerns like she had expected him to. Still, a part of Mai had hoped that he would have taken her seriously. Mai didn't know if the new Divination professor had taken her seriously... It was hard to tell. Her memories of him from Hogwarts were not the fondest-- typical Slytherin pureblood with more money than he could handle.  Clearly, Sid still had expensive taste. And he was a corporate shill for the crystal ball companies, so there was that.

He spotted her before she found him. Her eyes crinkled as she gave him a genuine but exhausted smile. He was looking better. Less gaunt. Mai was glad to see that he had put on weight. Mai returned the hug affectionately and pecked his cheek before carefully settling into her chair, joints protesting silently. Ever since the contaminated ingredients had hit St. Mungo's, Maiko had been wary of getting her medicinal potions through there[1] However, she didn't have a choice-- the potions were complex and a few ingredients difficult to find. On top of that, if she was too stressed out, the potions were less effective.

And as of late, Mai had been stressed out more often than not.

Curiously, she picked up the crystal phial and examined it. "Your mother is so thoughtful." Mai said fondly. Something inside her chest tightened with warmth. The Eleors were sweethearts, the lot of them. "Thank you,"  She was looking forward to trying it later. And she didn't even have to drink it! She glanced at the tome and then the travelling case, eyebrows raised curiously. Mai said nothing. Dree was prepared.

"I'm tired." She replied, an understatement. "But as good as can be expected when I've worked myself up." Mai shook her head, "A well meaning house elf commented on my weight loss."  She let out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. Her wardrobe included clothes for her natural, healthy weight as well as clothes for when it fluctuated due to health. People without chronic illnesses didn't have to think of that. "I'll get better soon enough, I always do." Mai had to hold on to that positivity, even when she wasn't feeling it. It made others feel better. Less concerned. The Eleors, however, didn't need that. So she continued.

"I stopped taking the dreamless sleep potions, and now the sleep that I'm getting isn't restful." Mai explained. She couldn't take the sleep replenishing potions, they messed with the effects for more important potions. "There's dementors, and puddles of blood. A clock striking thirteen.[2] No grim, but I've seen huskies and." She rubbed her temple and took a breath, "Walking through Hogsmeade made my skin crawl. How much of this is a vision? And how much of this is just... Me?"

1.	One to take to make her immune system behave, and one to help with pain and inflammation, twice a day-- with food. Both of them taste like Satan himself concocted them to torment sinners.
2.	Common death omen

Maiko's thoughts were racing; her words were rambling through more concepts and existential questions than most people covered in the space of entire conversations.  To halt the careening train of thought, Dreogan reached across, his fingers squeezing her hand reassuringly. 

"I believe every Seer has asked the same question," he said--doing his best not to sound the part of a teacher but a commiserator.  He opened his mouth to speak further before closing it with a frustrated sigh.  "Maiko, I hardly know what to say to you on this." His free hand went to his chin pensively.  "That is to say, I've put a lot of thought into it, and there are many things I can say and do, but... I'm not sure what will help. Or where to start."  He gave a sympathetic smile as he pulled his hand away.

"I've made a study of the predicament of the Sighted since you first wrote--and it's led me down an interesting path to 942 and I believe we can draw from history a lesson going forward but--" he broke off.  Having spent increased time with his brother (and his brother's impatience for tangential circumlocution), Dreogan was getting better at detecting when his speech veered down the arcane, academic roads.  Adon had said Dreogan would speak as a man possessed by cobwebbed history professors, plagued by footnotes.

"But I want to do what I can to help you in the here-and-now."  He wet his lips, anticipating her response.  "Late last year," his gaze was cautious, "we were able to make a... connection of sorts." It still felt too raw to speak so directly and publicly about his kidnapping, and in particular, those last few days and the emotions they brought.  "I suspect it was difficult for both of us, for many reasons, but I would be willing to revisit that connection, if it would help--if only for you to feel..." He shook his head. "I cannot promise that it would work, or that I would make any sense of it, but..." he trailed off.  Sometimes it was the terrible aloneness of knowing that made the Sight unbearable.  "...but if it would help," he resumed vaguely.  "I've checked with the Hog's Head, and there's a private place we could use tonight, if that were worth considering."

"I still haven't gotten a clear indication from you on whether you would like to pursue these visions or dissipate them..." He had things to help with that, too.

She squeezed his hand back, finding comfort in the personal touch. Mai was an affectionate person, particularly with friends and family. She found comfort in their gentle physical contact when everything inside of her was trembling.  He wasn't sure how to help, but he was there. And, in typical Eleor fashion, there was no way he wouldn't be here. They were professional worriers, the lot of them. Mai supposed she was giving them good reason to worry.

He started to get academic-- not that she minded in the least. One of the things she liked about Dree was the ability to talk theory, journals, and implications of recent research. There was nothing wrong with the way that he spoke-- and there was absolutely nothing wrong with being critically conscious and aware . However, sometimes it meant that it took a while to understand the point he was trying to make because it was drowning in the details.

With her hand free, Mai began to wring out her napkin from underneath the table-- wrinkling it up until it was a papery ball that had absolutely no hopes of ever being a napkin again. Her face was somber and focused as Dree spoke. The connection that they had made had been risky. But it had been worth it-- it helped bring him back home, to family and friends who loved him.

Mai sat in silence for a few heartbeats.. Sometimes she could respond quickly, but sometimes she needed to let the silence hang. In her job, she had to learn how to be comfortable in silence, and accept the times when silence would be the only response she would get. What did she want in this situation? What did she need? The lines between the two were overlapping more often than not. And how much was actually possible? How much was reasonable?

"I'm opening to revisiting the connection." She replied, "Though-- the Hogs Head? So close to Valentine's?" Mai jestered feebly, smiling before waving the comment away. It had broken some of the internal tension she felt, even if it had been an incredibly awkward thing to say.

"I don't want to dissipate these visions." Mai decided, "I know too much already. If I stop them, I'm... Turning away from this responsibility." It was difficult to explain, and she was not always eloquent. "Even if I can't stop it, maybe I can figure out how to... Make it less fucked up? Maybe I could figure out how to handle it?" She shook her head. "I can't help but feel like there's too many connections to... All this shit that's happened in the last year."

Mai leaned forward, pitching her voice only for Dreogan. "These aren't isolated incidents. They can't be."  She didn't care that she sounded like a conspiracy theorist. There were worse things to be.

This was not what Dreogan wanted for Maiko.  It's not how he would have wanted her to view the situation.  These dreams were not a responsibility.  Responsibility indicated a clear action to take.  Actions were unclear at best with any form of divination.  However, Maiko seemed to be jumping in headlong.

Her voice was low, private. "These aren't isolated incidents. They can't be."

Slowly, Dreogan nodded, reticent to pitch into the realms of... forensic prognostication.  It had been done before, in his own life even, to disastrous effect.  "Well," he began haltingly, instinctively nodding once more.  He cleared his throat, wet his lips.  "Even were that the case," his tone was cautious, "divination is... speculative at best in such things, isn't it?"  His fingers drummed on the table--nervously, but there was an edge of excitement in it, too.  Instinctively, he pressed forward in his seat.

 "I've--to be honest, this--that is, finding connections, meaningful links--is something I've put some thought to.  And I think, as I believe I mentioned, I have something for that looking forward.  What if it wasn't just your observations, or mine... or yours or my insight, but a network, and resources available and united..."  Once more he broke off, shaking his head.  "I want to talk about all that; I do."  He had been eager to share what he'd learned in the ancient book on the table.  "But," he said heavily, "I feel we are much better served as you have said, in making this less f--" Dree went pink at the ears.  "Less messed up. We'll start with the here and now: with these portents and--" he glanced around, and in a lower voice, "these students...  Perhaps once I have some insight? Into what you're seeing? We can go from there." 

He pushed back in his seat, reaching into his pockets for the coins.  Dree'd only ordered a pot of tea, but it hardly seemed necessary to drag things out, here. He laid several coins onto the tabletop, allowing for a more-than-generous margin to sufficiently forgive an early departure.  "Hog's Head?" he arched an eyebrow, a playful smile on his lips.  As he rose, grabbing the handle of the traveling case, he offered a crooked arm to her. "Shall we?"

Divination was speculative at best. She knew that. Every experienced seer knew that. That didn't mean that recurring, consistent prophetic episodes were to be ignored. The more persistent that a vision was, the more likely it was that whatever path they were on was leading to this. And it was impossible, impossible to know how to change it.

Dree's talk of a network piqued her interest. A network of seers. How would they sort out the ones who were simply, good manipulators? How would they know who to trust? Every seer's abilities manifested in it's own way. Dreams were common. Some seers were proficient in scrying, others were better at tarot and palmistry. She didn't know a single seer who was proficient in all methods of divining.

Still, the idea of support that could be gained from such a group was tempting. And perhaps, together they'd be able to find validation in each other's visions.

Dree knew that Mai wouldn't want to discuss things in detail here, where it was still so public. So, she waited until they were at the Hog's Head. She took his arm and headbutted his shoulder affectionately.

It had cleaned up just a bit in the years since she had been a student. But it was still dusty. Upon stepping into the pub, she felt her stomach tighten-- she hadn't been in a pub since the Leaky Cauldron explosions. It helped, however, that the Hogs Head had a totally different atmosphere. Stomach practically turning on itself with anxiety, she allowed Dreogan to lead them to a conference room. Mai wasn't sure what Dree expected from her. What he wanted, what he needed-- or what would make it easier for him to help.

"What are you thinking?"  Mai asked, closing the door behind them. She wanted to know, clearly, where he stood in this. What were they even doing? Where did he want to go from here?

They crossed through the lamp-lit, crowded main area of the pub. People were loitering, engrossed in their conversation, and the general ambience was amiable, if not a little shotty.  By contrast, the meeting room room was quite large and rather dingy; dimly lit, at best.  A thin layer of dust covered most surfaces.  Dreogan could see a clean square upon the table, dust-free, probably where some book had rested for some time before being removed.  He wondered when this room had been used last.  He wondered what it had been used for. They said that the Shrieking Shack was the most haunted house in Hogsmeade--some said in the UK--but this place felt like it had its own sort of ghosts.

Maybe it was just his present mood.  Dreogan set the heavy book down, followed by his traveling case.  Flicking open the latches, he lifted the lid, pulling out a black candle, which he lit.  "No ritualistic purpose," he stated, noting Maiko's anxious gaze flitting about.  It was now resting heavily upon him. "I just thought this room could use a little bit more..." he glanced around again. "Help."  He wasn't even sure that in the daytime this place got enough light.

Maiko finally spoke her mind.  It was a request for him to speak his: What are you thinking?

There were so many ways to answer that. 

"You mean what is my take on this? My opinion?"  Dreogan wet his lips, shifting his weight before beginning to busy himself with unpacking various odds and ends from the case.  "To be frank, Maiko,  I'm fairly certain we disagree on this.  But I'm not concerned about it."  He pulled out the silver scrying bowl and a bottle of water.  He looked up at her as he began to pour. "I trust you to know what is best for you.  Our needs and experiences probably vary, is all."

He began unrolling several silken herb sachets, his attitude that of a priest at an altar: reverent, quiet, peaceful.  "Were it me, my take on the matter is that Sighted experiences really cannot be a tool for preventing outcomes.  They are not warnings to be worked against--they are early notifications.  Trying to prevent an outcome is much more likely to bring it about anyhow.  Look at how it all played out with Adon, after all."  He pulled out several sprigs of clary sage, pulling the dried leaves roughly from the stem and rubbing them between his palm, releasing a light fragrance.  "Were it me--I would do as I'm already doing.  Draught of Peace, coupled with some therapy and waking meditation to keep the thoughts at bay."  Though this, he did not bother to mention, was predominantly his approach to his suppressed memories from the past year as well.  He pulled out a skein of red yarn, wrapping it around his fingers in order to rip off a length.   

"It isn't perfect, but it helps me."  As he knotted the yarn at intervals--seven in all--he regarded her thoughtfully.

"But what I am thinking for tonight is that we revisit the connection.  I'm still thinking through how to accomplish that.  We can't replicate the exact conditions," and he dearly did not want to, "but I've brought some things that we can try out.  My sense from you," he said with heavy emphasis, "is that--my opinions aside, you would like to delve more deeply into these visions in the hopes of preventing, seek more meaning, and come to a more concrete understanding.  Am I correct in gathering this?"  He pulled out another candle.  In silence, he lit a match, his mouth moving, but the words indiscernible. The candle cast a warm glow throughout the room; in time, the pleasant fragrance of sweet orange and cinnamon filled the air.  Cupping his hand, he blew the match out.  Smoke curled upwards from it, dissipating as it rose in the air.

His stomach felt uneasy just thinking about the mission Maiko was about to launch herself into.  "What I am thinking is that two interpreters are always better than one with Signs and Visions."  He next reached for a bundle of soft blue thread and, as before, ripped off a length, then another.  "What you probably don't know about me, Maiko," he said, his tone very soft, his stomach turning, "is that for over a millennia, my family has been regarded highly much less for acumen in receiving revelations, and much more in interpreting thereof." 

He pulled out one final artifact; an aged brass plate with precious stones embedded. "Because of this."  His voice was grim. "This is what Topuluk wanted.  Some call it the Seer Stone but, for now," he said, resting a light, reverent hand on its surface, "we're going to just leave it here and see if it's needed." In all honesty, he was not entirely certain it would work; it was, historically, used to divine God's will.  Dreogan had no notion of the true source of Maiko's dreams; God might not have any place in them at all.

"What I'm doing, if you are comfortable with it, is preparing the space so that we can be receptive, enlightened, and at peace."  He gave a slight smirk as he added, "Adon calls this hippie magic, but really, most of this is Kabbalistic."  He took the red yarn, the blue thread in his hands, holding it out to her.  "May I?" he asked, nodding to her wrist.  "The red is for protection, the blue for enlightenment."

Dreogan was right-- the room did need help. The room showed signs of neglect; cobwebs in the corner, dust on the surfaces. The lighting was dim and inconsistent-- the magical candles flickering precariously. Rumor had it, that Potter met here during the creation of Dumbledore's Army. It was still as dingy as it had been since she had been a student. How it stayed in business, she had no idea.

The candle that was set out didn't do much to help. She took out her wand, "Scourgify." The dust cleared off the table. There. That was better. Or, really, as good as it was going to get. There was something distinctly haunted about The Hog's Head. The people who came here had their own ghosts to deal with, and she didn't doubt that the owner was the same way.

He trusted that she knew what was best for her. She didn't trust that, though it was a comfort to know that somehow, he believed she was doing the right thing for herself. Mai ran away from her problems more often than she confronted them. Entering the Hogs Head was the first time she'd entered a bar ever since the Leaky Cauldron explosion. She didn't contact most of the family on her mother's side because of the pain attached to them. She drank on the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts because the memories associated with that time in her life ached.

Just because something happened a long time ago doesn't make them hurt less. Mai supposed the same was true for visions that had not come true yet. Seers still had to see them, and that in itself was traumatizing for many. Dree's idea of getting a group together to discuss and work together was... It was necessary.

  "Were it me--I would do as I'm already doing.  Draught of Peace, coupled with some therapy and waking meditation to keep the thoughts at bay."

Draught of Peace was effective. But it was also difficult to quit. It was an easy bandaid for problems, though it didn't actually fix anything.It was good, for a time-- she kept some in her office-- but Mai would never recommend it for regular, long term use. In the short term, or during emergencies-- it was fine. Mai tried not to let her concern for Dree show as she listened to him. He knew it wasn't perfect. Her commenting on it wouldn't do anything right now.

My sense from you,is that--my opinions aside, you would like to delve more deeply into these visions in the hopes of preventing, seek more meaning, and come to a more concrete understanding.  Am I correct in gathering this?"

She nodded in confirmation and added, "Except I am not sure that it is possible to prevent it. But... I could, maybe, help people prepare?" She had envisioned the boat capsizing during the school trip, and was able to plan an evacuation with the Donovans. The times in which she had been able to intercede in some way were minuscule compared to the visions she'd had, that she could do nothing about.

Mai watched as Dree pulled out the final artifact. So that was what Topuluk wanted. All that pain to the Eleors, for a magical stone. Grief, pain, and suffering had seemed to her, not a time of waiting for the hurt and trauma to pass, but to become accustomed to it. To accept it. In a way, that was healing. No one ever healed completely. A scar is never the same as unmarked skin, but it was better than being exposed. Towards Topuluk, she felt nothing but... She didn't want to say hate, but it was close. Because of him, she had nearly lost a friend. Because of him, he came back irrevocably changed. Still Dree to the core, but trauma always leaves its marks. But, he was alive. Changed, but alive.

She put her hand to his shoulder. There was not much she could do with him, except provide solidarity. It was clear though, that he wanted to move on.

At Dree's little joke, Mai managed to crack a little smile, like ice shattering on stone. An acknowledgement of Adon's comedic genius, even if she was finding it difficult to smile genuinely. She held out her left hand and watched as he tied the strings around her wrist.

What were they going to do next? She raised an eyebrow quizzically. Mai wasn't sure what she was, religiously. She believed in some sort of higher power, in some sort of spirituality. But adhering to a specific religion? That, she wasn't sure about. Mai's relationship with religion, and in particular--Christianity-- was damaged. But that didn't mean that she thought less of the religion itself, but more like it wasn't the right fit.

Maiko cast a scourgify, sending up puffs of dust.  It would take much more than that.  With a dry smile, Dree gave her a sidelong glance.  "That's ... a start..." he teased fondly at her attempt.  "I know when I'm in a losing battle with the elements."  Was decay really an element, though? Or rather the degeneration of the elements? The effect of it?

Stop, he chided himself. 

He nodded at her own objectives.  "I think we can certainly try to work within that," he said, tone tentatively optimistic.  Dreogan felt almost positive nothing they could do could prevent it.  Emotional preparation seemed much more... pragmatic and far less doomed.

He looked about the room, wheels turning.  "Okay.  I'm proposing a choose-your-own-adventure for you, Maiko," he said, eyes crinkling a little at the reference he was not quite sure she'd catch.  "We could try to see if I can gain access to your visions--or even if they'd trigger some of my own.  I'm not a legilimens.  It's something I've meant to revisit..." He recalled the one time he'd done it inadvertently, in a rather grim moment he was not particularly happy to recall.[1] "But before, in August, you and I had a connection--we were able to see each other, and share thoughts.  You mentioned you were open to revisiting it; at the time you were using my scrying bowl, and I was at the mirror.  We could try to replicate the conditions and see if I'm able to revisit any of the visions that way..." He frowned.  His eyes flicked back to the bowl.  "Or we could simply do conventional scrying and see if any new paths open up."  He pulled an upturned chair off from a tabletop, then another--setting both on the ground for them to sit upon.  "Or, we could always go the Muggle way and just talk about it, Mai."  His smile was slow, a little sad.  "What would you like to do?"

1.	For Thine Is The Kingdom, January 2008

Well. That attempt at cleaning was pathetic. For a moment she stared at the dust pile. She looked at Dree and gave him a resigned shrug. It seemed they'd have to do their work in squalor.

His sad smile tightened her chest, and all Mai wanted to do was hug him and insist that he'd get through this. She didn't want to traumatize him further-- and visions.. Oh they could be traumatizing. That, she was aware that he knew very well. What would be the best course for her? What would be the best course for his mental health? Mai shook those thoughts away. Dree was somebody who, by helping others, would find ways to apply it to his own situation. He was empathetic in a way that she understood more than she wanted to. Empathy, while necessary, held the potential for a lot of pain.

"I don't know." Mai admitted. There were so many options. The visions she had were difficult to describe in words-- they had just as much to do with feeling, smell, and sound as they did with sight.  "The first option sounds the most promising..." She bit her bottom lip, "I don't want to hurt you." Not more than he already was.

"Don't worry about that," Dreogan said with a light wave of his hand. "Really.  I've mentioned it before, but I think going forward, it'll be beneficial for us Seers to not feel the need to close others out from what is right now a very solitary experience."

Talking like an essay. Yep. Adon was right; Dreogan could hear it, now.

"At any rate," he dismissed again, "if we're to go that route..." he pulled out one final item: a handheld mirror and handed it to Maiko. It was itself richly ornamented, the craftmanship was his grandfather's, a once-prominent jeweler, now quite obscure to anyone in the Western magical world.  "Let's see," he ran his mind over several thoughts at once, "Last time, you contacted me through the bowl, and I was at the mirror.  Since I'm trying to See you this time and not the other way around, I think it'd be best if you take this, and I take the water."  Having only just seated Maiko moments before, Dreogan gave an amused smile as scooted her along the rough floor, so that they were no longer side-by-side.  "Don't look at me," he joked before adding, more seriously, "...if we're trying to replicate things... Make sure that you can't catch sight of me in the mirror, either," he added before coming to a standing position before the bowl.  He cast a careful aguamenti, his legs resting against the edge of the table, anchoring him there.  Habitually, he laid out the same sequence of artifacts as Adon had done months before.[1]

"Alright, Maiko," he whispered, closing his eyes a moment and breathing in the scent of the candles and herbs.  Leaning forward, fingers curling around the edge of the table, Dreogan focused his attention on the surface of the water. 

The connection took less time than he had thought; or perhaps more time had passed than he had felt.  Certainly, he felt Maiko, a reassuring presence.  It felt invasive, what he was about to do.  Dreogan cringed as he looked further into the waters, scrying for something vague that she had given him: the scent of a flower, Hogwarts students... Dreogan imagined Hogwarts stretched out before him... Maiko had mentioned she had Seen, or smelled, or felt blood.

Blood.

Dreogan smelled it before he noticed the waters of the bowl tinged, gradually turning red as wine.  There was Hogwarts in the waters, yes, the waters before it as red as the bowl.  The image in the bowl changed.  Dreogan had to crouch down, his nose nearly to the water, to make it out.  A crowded street that Dreogan was familiar with: the Muggle market, occupied by punk-rock teens.  Slowly, as if in a dream, the crowd of Muggles parted.  Dreogan made out the figures of three--maybe four... or five--walking forward numbly, covered head to toe in wine-red blood.

With still fingers, not daring to breathe and risk breaking the vision, Dreogan skimmed the surface of the bowl.  For a moment, he could make out their faces.  Startled eyes, mops of dark and blonde hair matted with blood.  They were young. God, they were barely more than children.  His fingers trembled, and the image vanished.  Only the red hue remained in the water, even as Dreogan took several abrupt steps away.

It was the sound of the chair, clattering to the ground that ended the vision for once and for all.  Dreogan looked numbly back, figuring that at some point, he'd stumbled into it in his extreme desire to distance himself from that bowl. He shook his head, unable to bend over to set it back upright.  "Did you see that?" he asked Maiko, an audible tremble in his voice.  He took a deep breath.  He would be no good like this.  It had been too long since he'd Seen something like this, and he would need to learn to be useful, if they were to proceed.  "They were in Camden Market," he ticked off the facts.  "I've been there.  They were in Camden Market and they were covered in blood."  Dreogan's hand fluttered anxiously against his face, wiping first his brow, settling to tug at his chin, and finally, Dreogan chewed carelessly on his nails, pressing them between his teeth as he thought. 

"My God," he whispered, finally.

1.	In this post.

Don't worry about it. Easier said than done.

But she saw where Dree was coming from-- and if the positions were switched, she would have helped him without question. She accepted the mirror and curiously examined it. It was much more extravagant than anything in her own home. It was beautiful. Then, Dree had the genius idea of physically moving her chair for her-- while she was still in it. Mai let out a surprised laugh, though she quickly sobered up as they got settled. She tried, tried not to look at Dree. Being told not to do something always made somebody want to do it.

This was some serious shit, so she focused-- looking at first, at her reflection. She looked exhausted-- and it wasn't just because she had neglected to wear makeup today. She focused then, not on her face but on the surface of the mirror. She felt a tugging at the edge of her vision and then--

The smell of blood, so thick she could taste it. Five young people-- students, covered in blood. Some of the same students she had been worried about before. Was this symbolic? Was it literal? The vision was not clear enough for her to tell exactly who each of them were, but she knew that she knew them. Mai felt a wave of vertigo and pryed her eyes from the mirror, only to hear a chair topple to the ground.

Mai nodded solemnly in response. Yes, she had seen it. Camden market. Now, if there were a bunch of teenagers being covered in blood, that would be one of the places they belonged. Once again, her weak, somewhat twisted sense of humor helped to defuse some of her internal tension, though not all of it. Mai had a feeling that she wouldn't be sleeping much tonight.

"I should write to the head auror." Mai finally said, struggling to recall his name. "Skepticism be damned."

"Skepticism...?" Dreogan echoed, trying to keep up with her thought process.  He held a hand out firmly.  "Maiko, wait."

To his surprise, she did.  "I'm not saying it's... not a good idea. Writing to Edward Pratt..." But... was he even the Head Auror anymore? If not him, who?  "We have to consider carefully about how to come across."  Seers were not, historically, seen as the most reputable sorts.  More... sensationalist, solitary, crazed messengers of the Gods. At best.  Maiko knew this.  He frowned.  "Sorry, I'm just... spinning my wheels..." he said, finally reaching down to pick up the upturned chair.  He settled heavily in it, across from Maiko.

"I think we should just give them the specifics...  They'll want to know what's concrete...5 children, Hogwarts children, bloodied, in Camden Market..." Again, his fingers roamed his face, finally settling upon rubbing his chin.  He cringed the more he thought about it.  He could see anyone--anyone like Adon--resisting a cautionary letter.  They wouldn't appreciate it until it was real.  He gave a frustrated shake of his head.  "I don't know, Maiko." His tone was torn. He sighed heavily. "If we bring this up now, before they care about it, I almost feel as though it's going to be cast aside...  People have a heavy sense of denial.  Especially this Ministry's leadership."  It was sad, but true.  Dreogan was fighting against a hearty case of denial every day.  Were it up to most of the Wizengamot, his little office wouldn't even exist.  They failed to see it was relevant. "Odds aren't good it can be prevented, but prepared..." Another sigh.  "If there were some way for them to set up a watch on Camden Market--if they could be in a position to see how it happens, I'd feel a lot better about it."

That was what had made the difference in his abduction.  The events had all played out the same, but the Jerusalem Auror's office had made it a point to be present, and that had most certainly saved his life, if not Remi Hamza's. 

Dreogan didn't think she was going to like this.  "Maybe we keep this until they're in a position to care about it."

 

She listened to Dree, even if she didn't like what he was saying. He was right, they wouldn't care until something happened. "Okay, we'll give them the specifics." Mai agreed that was best. "And it probably will be cast aside.  But I can't sit still and do nothing. I can't wait. It could happen today. It could happen in two weeks. I don't know. But I think Camden does need to have security." She hesitated, and continued.

"Hogsmeade, too. Both places are.... They're linked somehow, to whatever's going on." Mai met Dree's gaze,  "The blood lake though-- I don't know where that ties in." She'd mentioned it to Ignan, he'd brushed it off. Perhaps it was symbolic. "I'll leave it out. The smells, too." Unless they actually seemed interested in what she had to say.

"I could tell them now, and then they'll probably see something familiar." She paused, "Or I'll write an angry letter chatising them for not listening to me." The latter was more likely, and Mai was more than willing to do that. "I don't want to wait, Dree." Mai set her jaw stubbornly, "I don't think I should wait. I see your point, and it's valid. But I don't see why I can't send a letter now, and then later if something happens."

She offered him a weak, but genuine smile. "Thank you."