"I have contacted a morally ambiguous member of the underworld who provides the very key service of keeping a small supply of cured Polyjuice Potions for situations like mine.  But it will be up to you, Mr. Spade, to provide the crucial reagent.

"A scapegoat."

Deep in Hogwarts castle, in a dank and abandoned section of dungeon rooms, Theodora Kingstreet's face glowed orange and red from a bed of barely stoked embers.  The hearth was tiny, and filled with ash.  The implements of the long forgotten hearth had fallen from their hooks and lay cold and be-dusted in the chilly chamber.  A teenage boy crouched low near the ex-lawyer's fiery image.

She trusted Devlin because she understood he was motivated by the life-long prospect of continuing to breath.  He would be paid fairly for his obedience, and punished just as fairly with having his lungs taken by force from his body, or the equivalent.  And so she had no reason to doubt he'd perform the task with diligence and attention.

Theodora smiled pertly up at him, her dimples dark ashy bits.

"Any bit of him shall do.  Even some part of a suitable young witch.  I am charging you with the responsibility of choosing the appropriate person.  Take care not to select someone you care about as a the remorse you would feel would render you useless to me.  Select someone disposable but likely," she instructed.

Devlin hated being a lackey. He hated not knowing what was going on and he hated not having his hand in every little pot. It was a character flaw, sure, but not one that he had plans to change any time soon. What he did have to change, however, was his lack of leadership ability. This was what Kingstreet was supposed to teach him and it was the only thing that kept him connected to her. Hence why he was waiting with baited breath, crouched in front of an abandoned fireplace in some damp dungeon, waiting to be included in her grand scheme.

"-- But it will be up to you, Mr. Spade, to provide the crucial reagent: a scapegoat."

Devlin frowned slightly at this, unsure what she meant by 'scrapegoat'. Naturally he knew what it was... just why she needed one was the question. Causing some chaos at the events was easy enough. He could do it with his eyes closed and one hand tied behind his back and still not get caught. What did she need a scrapegoat for? Wasn't the point to make their gang known? To strike fear and terror?

Thankfully for Devlin, he was smart enough to know that pushing her to answer him would likely end with him in severe pain, if not dead. He fell back into a lazy sitting position, his knees aching, and waited for her to finish.

"Any bit of him shall do.  Even some part of a suitable young witch.  I am charging you with the responsibility of choosing the appropriate person.  Take care not to select someone you care about as a the remorse you would feel would render you useless to me.  Select someone disposable but likely,"

"Likely? Likely for what?... If you don't mind me asking..." He said suddenly. He knew he was on thin ice for asking, but he couldn't choose based on the criteria she provided alone. "... I mean... who I choose really depends on what you have planned. Thievery?...Seduction?..." He paused briefly before adding quietly "... Violence...?"

Kingstreet glowered at these needless inquiries, before she realized that he was young and inexperienced.  She would need to endure these questions until he formed a suitable inclination towards her larger goals, before he could more readily anticipate her wishes.  It was a difficult talent that so many of her underlings at the Ministry had failed at time and time again.

"Of course violence, Devlin," she said with a terse restraint.  "That's the point.  At their holiest of holies, Remembering Day, such a show of violence will embarrass and harass their cozy sense of safety and confidence in their Ministry.  But it's quite important I stand blameless and shining throughout the whole ordeal."

"Thus a scapegoat, dear boy: someone young and already pre-disposed to this sort of thing.  A lock of hair, a bit of flesh, understand?"

Theodora's eyes raised indicating this prolonged discussion was wearing thinly as an enjoyable conversation.  It was one she would have preferred to confer upon an assistant or secretary.  But she did not have one yet, as any sort of administrative staff was a violation of her release.  At the moment it was not feasible.

"Of course violence, Devlin, That's the point.  At their holiest of holies, Remembering Day, such a show of violence will embarrass and harass their cozy sense of safety and confidence in their Ministry.  But it's quite important I stand blameless and shining throughout the whole ordeal."

Devlin's stomach churned at the prospect of violence, though not entirely in a bad way. It was an apprehensive churning, both from fear and excitement, as his inner twins bickered over what to feel. On one hand, Devlin was not a violent person by nature. He rarely threw the first punch or spell, preferring to use his wits and words to fight, and was cordial with everyone except his most hated nemesis. But he couldn't deny the rush of adrenaline that came with the idea of violence. That burst of excitement that came with absolute power over your enemy. It was surprisingly enjoyable and he found himself smiling at the prospect.

"Thus a scapegoat, dear boy: someone young and already pre-disposed to this sort of thing.  A lock of hair, a bit of flesh, understand?"

"Predisposed to violence eh?" Devlin murmured, mostly to himself. There was only one name that came to mind when he thought about violence and his smile grew wicked when he realized that he could kill two birds with one stone. Gain a position and discredit an enemy... perfect. "That shouldn't be too hard... I already have someone in mind..." His hazel eyes, usually filled with mirth or mischievous glee, glittered with something much more malicious. When he uttered the name, it wasn't with the tone of sharp hatred and disgust it normally held, but with the malignant edge that only came with unadulterated joy, "... Kyle Gibson."

Theodora wrinkled her nose, annoyed at being burdened by this detail.  She didn't need to know who, she needed some fingernail clippings or earwax by owl by end of May 1.  She told Devlin this much, and then said,

"You know where to send it.  It will be important that other than the owl bearing it's onus, you and I are not to make contact until after Remembering Day.  You've done very well so far, Mr. Spade.  Your re-imbursement is on it's way.  I suggest you find a secure and clandestine way to hoard your earnings.  It wouldn't do for a shoddy young man like yourself to suddenly come into a good deal of money."

Theodora smiled. She sensed that gold galleons would even further motivate her employee.  But the more she invested in him, the more painful his termination would become.