~ lunchtime

Next to the lawn out the back of the Three Broomsticks, a small selection of food stalls were set up and serving selections of goodies. From one came the scent of fresh cooked pumpkin pasties. From another, mouth watering Hog roast rolls were selling by the dozen. In the middle of the two, a small elderly lady was forcibly smiling at her first customer of the day. A small bruise was evident, just over her eye, more were hidden under her robes. She looked exhausted but also determined.

She was surrounded by high stacks of highly colourful (unlabelled) cakes and biscuits that looked very appetizing.

She handed over the plateful of cakes and collected the coins in return and was dropping them into the little cauldron at her side when her customer took her first bite. She didn't see her tip the plate into the bin.

Nora liked to experiment, something that occasionally led to disastrous consequences. She'd spent most of yesterday baking her cakes after her own most recent calamity had destroyed her attempts of the day before that. Her cakes and biscuits, like their appearance suggested, had colourful ingredients.....ingredients combined that many thought should never be bound together in writing let alone in form.

     

Nate groaned. He was starving and the lines for the "Pig Leg" stand was even longer than the one for the pumpkin pasties.   Nate had missed most of the fun of the last few days already, having just Apparated in a mile or so out of town.  (Splinchings were rampant at these kinds of things.) 

His brow furrowed in furtive need for sustinence, his gaze darted back and forth.  It was impossible to tell which line was moving faster.  They kept switching.   He just didn't want to be the boob stuck in some undending queue while the other line breezed along merrily.  Then of course, he'd switch, just to have them run out of Pig Legs!

But then, he spied it.  Between the two stands was another. Almost an afterthought.  Down down between the galley way of people, down the gap between the two lines of witches, wizards and their younglings was  a grinning little witch. Grinning at another old lady witch.

One person in line.

Nate made his move.   He zipped past the frays of the two long lines and up to the funny little stand of the funny little witch.  He furrowed his brows again and looked past the only other customer.

"Oi, what is is this? Pies?"

Nora could hardly believe it. No sooner had the one customer left, than another arrived. She'd had no idea her selection of condiments would be so popular.

"Oi, what is is this? Pies?"

"Well..." She started, chest swelling proudly as she set to describe her creations.

"I've Sphinx sponge delight cake, Neptune cookies, Special Scone surprise....that one's nearly all savoury...almost like a pie and good value at that, specially if you're peckish... curious cauldron cakes... " She continue to reel off, pointing them out a she went, never stopping to draw breathe until she had reached the end of the first row and finally her body reminded her that air was still a statutory requirement.

"And more fondants and fancies." 

"....what was it you were after? " She asked the young man, her eyes twinkling with delight.

She had named and designed the collection herself, after much deliberation and preparation. There had been a whisper that the editor of Magical cakes and condiments was going to be somewhere in the crowds today. Nora was hoping her own creations might catch her eye, maybe earn a little spot one page 5 in the Inventive non combustible cake of the week (renamed after the exploding cauldrons disaster in 1994)

The woman was dotty.  Spangled. Frothy. But it was very bad luck to juggle queues and Nate would be standing his ground here at the pie stand.  He squinted, and cast a longing look at the Pig Leg line.

"Savory," he replied feeling defeated.  He just wanted to get away from this clearly batty thing and on with the day.  He pointed flippantly at the lumpy baked good she'd described as something to do with a scone.  Couldn't go wrong with a scone, could you.

Then he had a brainwave.  "Wait, you said Scone surprise.  What's the surprise?" He wanted to get fed, not entertained or befuddled. Or transfigured or transformed.  That's what you got eating stand food.  He saw again how quickly the Pig Leg line was moving now - but that was a bad omen.  Switching now would completely ruin his chances.

His belly rumbled and he scratched at his stubbly neck.  "Make it two...."

"Wait, you said Scone surprise.  What's the surprise?"

Nora grinned, the movement was a little painful though she showed little sign of that.

"Well, it wouldn't be a surprise if I told you that now, would it! " She answered rather gleefully.

"But it's not at all unpleasant, so you've nothing to worry about." She told him, packing two scones into a paper bag for him.  It was not a lie as such, though it is amazing just how much the perception of unpleasantness can differ from person to person.

"Not going to turn you into something it shouldn't or anything like that. " She added, this time with a chuckle.

She said this with some certainty, though whether that was in anyway reassuring is another thing entirely. She was particularly proud of the scone creation. Inside each one, four different layer resided with four very, very different flavours, the equivalent of a starter, main course, dessert and beverage. The idea was rather brilliant, the execution a little flawed as the layers tended to merge together at the edges combining into a rather unusual taste and texture.

Each layer had, of course been tested by a group of, rather unwilling, volunteers to no lasting ill effects....but never the effect of the entire combination. 

The final layer contained a mild euphoria draft, an essential addition for anyone that actually made it that far.

Nate stared down his lumpy scone, ready to be on his way.  He dug in his pocket for the sickles when the breeze carried a breath or two of conversation to the pie stand.

"...Decapitated! And, can you believe it, they say he wanted to off Kingstreet right then and there.  Can't believe it. What a night...Here! At Remembering Day..."

Nate's head jerked to see who'd said it.  Not finding the source of the voice, and highly disappointed that he'd missed something good, he took a nibble on the scone (lettuce? what?) and turned back to Ms Dobbins.

"You hear that? Kingstreet's here? Insane witch, showing her face.  If I was her I would have skipped town long ago.  And now look - got her head lopped off," he shook his head and nibbled more (corned beef hash?).  "You get to see it? When did it happen?"

Nora gave a little shudder, the casual phrase "head lopped off"bringing back some rather unpleasant memories of the night before. Nevertheless, she rallied herself magnificantly. Some one, after all, had to set the record straight.

"Oh no, not her. It was a man, an auror, who got murdered." She told him with a suitably dramatic grim look.

"I should know, I was there....and Kingstreet's head was most definately on her neck when I last saw her. " She added, nodding knowingly. She didnt' add the fact that she had actually left the stadium before the chaos had been reined in.

"Though some might say not screwed on quite right of course. " She whispered conspiratorily, before launching into a rather detailed description of the events.

"It was quite dreadful.First that lady Kingstreet started it, standing up and giving a speech...at the memorial ceremony last night, of all places. The very nerve of it!

...and of course the minister and Mr Head Law Enforcement weren't too keen on that. Mind, before they could do ought about it, someone else took matters in their own hands. Only a young lad aswell, probably a bit younger than you." She told him, looking at him appraisingly.

"Nice looking lad, blonde hair. Makes you wonder what the youth are coming to nowadays and what a waste of a life, for it will be life in Askaban if the aurors catch up with him...murdered one of their own see, on the way up to the platform. " She explained, shaking her head sadly at that point.

" Mind thats more of a traversty. He was only quite young apparently...the auror that fell and had a young family aswell, or so Elspeth told me. The young lad chose to throw his life away and its quite right that he should pay for what he did." She said decidely. 

Nate leaned against the rickety wooden stand as the old witch told the tale.  He munched at the scone realizing he was taking a sort of culinary journey to its core.  It was mostly unpleasant, with the textures contradicting the taste - but the way the tastes were changing it had the effect of beckoning him further into the biscuit, his curiosity nudging him onward.

An Auror murdered at Remembering Day? By a kid?  Even ne'er-do-well Nathan Briggs had to think that was insane.  School boys murdering Aurors - this is what Theodora Kingstreet inspires? Nate shook his head.

"That's ... dark," he said finally, really unsure of how to interpret it.  "You know if they caught the bloke or ...?"  A newspaper smacked against the back of his legs and cut off his question.  The wind had blown the front cover of the Daily Prophet against him. 

Emblazoned on the cover was a swirling photograph of last night's ceremony.  But instead of people solemnly posing for the camera, the shot was an action shot.  People ran across the frame, and all faces were panicked.  He could make out Kingstreet snarling, and the frantic faced youth.  But the scene was so muddled, the photograph was blurred and frantic.  He skimmed the article quickly then handed it over to the woman.

"Nah, he's loose.  Not for long though, I bet.  How long can a kid avoid an army of vengeful Aurors?"

Finn had arranged to meet Nate at the foodstalls that were to be stationed just behind the three broomsticks for the week, all selling a selection of savoury snacks and sweet treats to the various witches and wizards that would be making their way to and from Hogsmeade, and those simply passing through for the ceremonious week.

He walked over the grass that had a slight spongy feel to it - the moisture was trapped in the soil from the rains that hit the small Scottish village the week before. The Ministry almost had kittens at the thought of the weather not being perfect for the celebrations - more to do with the fact that they themselves would look less than perfect if they didn't host a good show. Afterall, that was what remembering week was about - the Ministry upholding their image! Finn shook his head at the thought. What was the wizarding government coming to these days? It seemed as though they hadn't learned from the last time they tried to save face - a seventeen-year-old boy saved them from a mess they could have saved themselves from if they had simply accepted facts and got on with solving their own problems. Instead, they branded him a liar, and all those involved with him accomplices. At the end of the day, they made themselves look like asses. It served as a reminder that the majority of the Ministry [not least the Minister himself] was a catastrophe.

That was what remembering week was all about to Finn.

Embellishing that thought in his head, he made his way through the throngs of people of all ages, some eating hog roasts, others eating cakes, scones, pasties and ice creams. Finn made his way past various food stalls keeping an eye out for his friend, but also a very astute eye on the food that was available, should he get peckish. He arrived at a stall serving pig's legs. He walked the whole length of the long line, and was very surprised to find that Nate wasn't in it, rubbing his hands together and licking his lips like a small child about to naughtily stick his grubby hands in a cookie jar. Finn paused and scratched his head.

He was about to turn on his heel and walk the length of the line again, just incase he had missed Nate, but his eyes stopped somewhere over the queue at a little stall, a dotty old woman and his friend taking a paper bag from her. "Aha!" Finn breathed. He made his way through the middle of the queue with an "Excuse me." and a "Very sorry."

He was sorely mistaken to think that it was just any dotty old woman serving his friend. It was none other than Nora Dobbins, scatty local, crazy experimenter and - at the moment - bane of Finn's life. She had made many complaints about his 'Raucous and brash establishment which invited various witches and wizards of questionable background' to frequent it. She also had the audacity to add to the end of one of her letters that it was far too expensive. This gave Finn reason to believe that she had visited Signature herself, but found that she was spending too much of her money.

"Nora Dobbins." Finn exclaimed, a grin upon his face. "What a glorious surprise." He winked at Nate. "I would kiss your hand," he carried on to the elder lady, "As I believe all gentlemen should to ladies, but...well, I have no idea where your hands have been." He sighed. "And after what happened at your home last weekend, I think I would be better off for it." He turned to Nate and pulled a face. "The stench was horrific." He stuck a tongue out. "Let me guess what the hot topic of conversation is...Kingstreet's spectacular comeback?" It wasn't hard to guess, judging by the copy of the daily prophet Nate was holding in his hand, and the fact that most people were talking in hushed tones about the same insident.

Nora reached out to take the stray paper when it was offered to her, um'ing in certain spots as she scanned the words.

"Yes, they'll have him in no time at all I s'pect. There can't be many places to hide when the whole of wizarding folk is after you. " She added, still looking on the photo on the page. Her expression clouded a little as she recalled more than the story of the night before, remembering her panic as the crowds had pressed down upon her.

The arrival of another young man soon broke her reverie, an interruption that might have been appreciated, had it not come in the form of Finn Grosvenor. 

She placed her hands on her hips as he approached, all set to give him the latest piece of her mind but he got his words in first, and a rather cheeky combination at that. 

"Don't you go taking that tone with me Finnley. " She told him, one finger waggling at him, as if addressing a naughty child. She addressed him by his full first name, quite deliberately to annoy him.

"I might not look it, but I'm old enough to be your grandmother and I deserve a little respect. And personally, I'd much prefer you do keep those lips to yourself. " She exclaimed indignantly with a sniff. 

"Stench indeed - I didnt realise you were of such a delicate disposition. " She continued, presenting the perfect picture of huffiness.

"Some people just don't understand the delicate balance and wonder of magical experimentation. " She whispered loudly to Nate with a knowing nod.

She appeared quite irritated by the younger man. In truth, she quite liked a good debate every now and then. Finn always proved to be a most worthy opponent.

Rembering day, Remembering day - and yet Orlaith didn't particularly want to go back to that stuffy old castle to remember something as morbid as death. She knew she would have to eventually today, her parents were there as well as a few other family members she didn't particularly want to see. Why then was she going to see them? Obligation of course.

For now however, the young Slytherin was going to take advantage of what little freedom and choice she had in the affair and enjoy herself in Hogsmeade. This small town had always been an enjoyable place to visit and didn't hold any bad memories whatsoever for the blonde lass. Today had not spoiled that reputation, and with lunchtime approaching Orlaith was certain she would enjoy whatever food she purchased as well. The only thing that had bothered her was in her haste to get away from Hogwarts she forgot about the family members and other people she might have wanted to spend the day with. Ah well, she'd see them at dinner right? And surely Orlaith could find something else to busy herself with in the meantime.

Her task now was finding a decent restuarant to eat in, for she wanted a proper meal. Large and filling. There was always the three broomsticks but somehow, with it being remembering day and all, Orlaith imagined it was pretty full in there. Full to the point where she would want to strangle someone due to her dislike of most stupid people. Perhaps she could sustain herself with a snack during her search. Something cheap and cheerful and quick to buy which meant avoiding all stalls with ridiculously long queue's.

How fortunate was it then that a certain tall, dark and handsome type was at that moment choosing to aggravate an old lady selling some seemingly harmless cakes and pies... and other things which looked greatly interesting. Unfortunately the mans' good looks did nothing to win Orlaith's favour in that moment because the fourteen year old wasn't greatly interested in boys just yet. "How unkind of you, if you're going to continue then obviously you don't plan to buy anything here." Orlaith said, and to most it would have seemed that the blonde spoke without thinking. In her mind though she believed she was being very smart, she hadn't said anything to offend the older Wizard, but it still got her point across didn't it?

"Perhaps you should go block the line of some other ... more useless stall, like that one selling second-hand books. I'm hungry." Orlaith said, trying her best not to scowl or look to 'uppity'. It was the truth, the young man was rude and she was hungry - the easiest solution was for him to go out the way so she could buy a snack and go back to her restuarant hunting. Though she had to admit, the old lady mentioning something along the lines of magical experimentation did worry her slightly. Had she said that in relation to the smell of something else or did something smell rather suspect on her stall? Orlaith's nose would have to investigate in a moment.

Finn Grosvenor, Nate's fanciest friend, arrived.  Mouth full of the remains of his meal, he greeted him with a clap on the shoulder.  He almost choked when Finn immediately started harassing Mrs. Dobbins, and she returned the favor.

"Oi!" Nate said, remembering, "This is the woman who -" but Nate was cut off quickly by a white-blond little witch who'd just mouthed off with the fervor of a teenager of twice her size.  He snorted.

"Shove off, the grown-ups are talking," he said, before again regarding Mrs. Dobbins and Mr. Grosvenor.

"You're the one who complained about Signature? Ma'am, you've just got to give it a chance," Nate told her.  "Just pop in one evening - you've have a good time.  I'll even buy you a drink." 

He was being a cheeky bastard, and if it had been his grandmother, she'd have smacked him in the face.

Michael had been walking around the town most of the morning thinking on the events of the previous nite.  He found it hard to believe that a fellow Gryffindor would do such a thing, but how well did he really know Kyle, Kyle didn't really socialize much with Michael afterall.  Michael had been sitting outside the Shrieking Shack for awhile, as it was quiet there now, the charm had finally worn off when the truth about the shack had come out, all the noises were those of a young werewolf who had been a student at Hogwarts.... awhile ago, Michael wasn't really sure.  He was pondering what he hreally knew about Kyle and thinking that he should get a notebook perhaps and record some of his thoughts when he realized that he had left the castle without eating that morning, he had just waited for his copy of the Daily Prophet and left to walk around.  Now he was feeling particularly famished as it was time for lunch.  Michael didn't particularly want to go back to the castle right now as everyone there would be with their families and Michael's wouldn't be there.  He had gotten a note the previous Saturday telling him that they wouldn't be attending any fake holiday's.  Michael had wrote back that he had understood why they woudln't be attending but he didn't really, they had been distant with him all this year and he wasn't sure why, he would have to find out during the holiday's that were coming up.

Michael stood up and started walking towards Hogsmead, there would be snack vendors there and that would tide him over until dinner that nite, he would have to endure that though, maybe he could strike up a good conversation about quidditch with his fellow team mate George Carter. 

Michael was checking out the lines for the stalls when he managed to step into a hole of somesort and stumbled, dropping his copy of the Daily prophet which immediatly started scattering in the wind.  He had collected most of it when he saw what had to be the front cover fly into the foot of a young wizard who proceeded to pick it up and glance at it, since the man was reading it he decided that he would collect the other two sheets that were flopping around and than collect that piece. 

Having Collected the rest of his paper he proceeded over to where now a tall man who kind of looked like Ava Grosvenor, a slytheryin in his year, and a blond girl who he thought was a Fourth year, though he didn't know which house were talking to one another.

"Shove off, the grown-ups are talking,"

"Execuse me gentlemen, but if you've made your purchases, perhaps you should move to the side at least, and let the lady make her own, also that's my copy of the prophet your holding ma'am, I dropped it and it blew away before I could catch it" he said while holding up his now coverless and very mussed Daily Prophet