"Expelliarmus.  Accio Wand."

Before the lad's mind had even caught up with his sudden change of location, Robards wand flew free from his pocket and into Cinaed Tawse's outstretched hand[1].  A sharp snap and a sudden flash of flames later and the remnants of the cherry wand were quickly becoming bright, glowing embers - indistinguishable from the bed of embers cradling it. 

Cinaed was settled back, rather comfortably, in a faded, tattered large-cushioned chair in front of the fire.  It was still only shortly after lunch, but grey clouds enveloping the windows of the small farmhouse[2] made it seem later than it was.  The fire was the only source of light in the room, aside from what little trickled through the clouds outside the window. 

Getting the boy had been easy.  For several weeks now, a small black and white magpie had been watching the lad as he went about his daily routine.  Taking note of when he went into work and when he left the Ministry.  Of the routes he took to work and where he went for lunch.  Once the pattern had been identified, the magpie had taken to stalking the employees and other regulars at Robards' usual eateries.  It only took a few days to identify the employees that lived alone and, one imperious curse later and the employee was placing a port key in Robards' lunch order. 

In a few moments time, the employee - still under the imperious - would be taking a turn too sharply and drive his tiny car into a wall.  His blood alcohol levels would give the muggle officials little reason to investigate further.  It was only preferable when things cleaned up, nicely.

"Afternoon," Cinaed offered, finally smiling jovially at the lad.  "Charlie, I believe?"  Best to make sure - it wasn't beyond possibility that someone else might have gotten the portkey. 

1.	Gmoding approved by Michael
2.	Copinsay, Scotland

Charlie Robards, for those that knew him, was an extremely jovial fellow. A smile was always plastered upon his face and a song was never far from his lips. He always managed to find a lining of purest silver in any cloud and always saw the sun shining bright in the sky – even when it was gloomy and grey. He valued friendship and teamwork, loyalty and companionship. Little did he know that his smiles and laughter was coming quickly to an end.


Every morning, the Hufflepuff graduate would awaken promptly at six, shower, grab a quick breakfast, and head into work by eight. He spent precisely four hours doing grueling paperwork and pushing through werewolf registry reports. Then he would head to the same diner, buy a spot of lunch, and head back for another few hours before heading home for the evening. It was at lunch, on a day like any other - when Charlie’s life changed for goodever.

 Stepping into the diner, Charlie gave his favorite waitress a new (and corny) joke, and didn’t even notice that her smile didn’t reach her eyes. Fish and chips, a personal favorite, was ordered along with a cup of warm cider to take the chill off the air. All was well in the world. The cider was delicious, as always, and the registry clerk stared out the window as he waited for his meal to arrive.

“Thank you!” He said gratefully, taking the warm plate from the waitress and feeling an uncomfortable feeling deep within his being. The world started spinning around him as he grabbed a fork and was ready to dig in, and a feeling of dread filled his heart. He landed, most unceremoniously, upon the floor of Tawse’s hideout and the plate clattered to the ground, spilling its contents upon the ground.

A small gasp escaped the boy’s mouth as his wand – his extra hand – his birthright – was taken and viciously destroyed. Charlie’s mind was working overtime: this was obviously not a happy visit. Somewhere, deep within the recesses of his mind, Charlie knew that his father’s murderer was still out there, biding his time. He just didn’t think that the man would have any need to come after him. After all, he was just a clerk. All he did was update the werewolf registry. It wasn’t like he was the head of a department like his father; there was no need to kill him… right?

A gruff nod was all that was offered to the creepy guy lounging in the chair. Charlie didn’t trust his voice – he wouldn’t let his father down by crying in front of this man, and showing weakness would only fuel the villain’s fire. No – he’d take his dues, and he’d survive this mess. He had to.

Cinaed met the lad's confirmation of his identity with a broad and all-too-friendly grin, given the circumstances.  The day would not end well for the Robards kid, that much was for certain but, on the bright side, this day would end better than some of the days to come. 

A gust of wind clapped against the windows of the dark sitting room.  Cinaed moved away from the fire, crossing the room towards the lad, taking a close look at the fellow as he circled around him. 

"You're Robards' lad," he said, simply, a clear touch of disappointment in his tone.  Given Gawain Robard's position and station in life, one would have thought his son would be a bit more impressive.  Either in stature or presence or abilities.  But, after having trailed the kid for several weeks, it had seemed he'd been none of those things. 

He stopped when he was standing in front of the boy, again.  "You work in the Ministry.  What department?"  Cinaed had been able to follow the lad to and from the Ministry but a magpie flying through the building's hallways would have been just as conspicuous as Cinaed walking around in his normal attire.  Where the kid went and what he did once he was inside the building had remained a mystery.  "What do you do?  Tea shop?"