Taking a sip of firewhisky, the new Ancient Runes professor for Hogwarts heaved a deep, thoroughly heartfelt sigh of relief. Although delighted with his new job, and though September 1st had been a Wednesday, his Thursday and Friday schedules were pretty intense. First thing after breakfast on Thursday morning had been his first class with the fifth years, then an empty period followed by a lesson with the 7th years and one with the 3rd years.  Then lunch, and, finally, the fourth years. And then Friday had the sixth years right after breakfast, but after that he only had the fifth years before lunch and the fourth years after lunch. He'd had much more difficult starts to other jobs. Regardless, on Saturday evening, Sachairi felt that he deserved to set aside the classwork he was grading and head on down to the Hog's Head for a quiet drink or two to relax. After all, it had been real work correcting the mess that one sixth year had made after a poorly-drawn exercise had begun shooting off sparks like angry fireworks. It sure woke everyone up, but still, not a desirable result.

So Sachairi had abandoned the third-years' first essays and walked down to Hogsmeade, feeling quite pleased with himself. Just a drink or two and then back to work with a clearer head, he chortled mentally, already looking forward to a spell sitting and drinking and enjoying himself for a time. The work would be there later when he was ready to tackle it, after all. He was just settling into his first firewhisky now, a plume of smoke billowing comfortably from his nostrils as he exhaled the burning heat of the enchanted alcohol, when he noticed that his coat pocket felt unaccountably light. Sachairi frowned, set down his drink, and reached into his pocket. His wallet was definitely not there, and he knew he'd had it when he left the castle. That was not a good thing.

Swallowing out of nervousness now, the smallish man turned around on his barstool and looked quickly around the room, but didn't see it on the floor. Had he been pickpocketed without noticing? If so, he knew odds were good that the thief had already left with the wallet, but blind hope drove him to check the room again anyway. It wasn't that he cared so much about losing his wallet; there hadn't been much money in it and he could always buy another. But Sachairi had been bored a week or two ago and had used the wallet as an experiment, just to see what would happen. If someone else attempted to open the wallet, it was supposed to grow very hot, so that the offender had no choice but to drop it. Sachairi had forgotten doing that until just now - and worse, he remembered with a grimace, he'd never actually tested the enchantment. If he'd misdrawn the runes even slightly, the consequences could be... unpleasant for whomever was holding the wallet at the time. Misdrawn rune magic could have bizarre consequences as the magic took unexpected paths. Thoughts of being reprimanded for inappropriate enchantments came to mind. Whoops. In hindsight, that was one experiment he should have thought through better. Nothing to do now but try to clean up his own mess, he supposed...

So Sachairi slid off his bar stool and headed for the door. "I'll be back," he told the barman. "I just need to... check on something," the Scotsman added in an uncertain, almost worried tone. He hoped that he'd just dropped it outside in the street, and that no one had picked it up. If he could just trace the wallet in time, before anyone tried to open it...

Sitcky tables. That was Dotty's excuse for not moving after a heavy mead far too early fat for a Saturday morning, for being both plastered and plastered to the table. Hair and cheek lying on her table, eyes intensely looking at fingers un-tensely playing in her emptied mug. Drink was just enough for a buzz but, for at this time, Dotty had too much or of an apprentice acquaintance with drink were it still wasn't enough.

And the more booze train was derailed of funds. Whatever, it was her stupor to stoop as she saw fit.

So little bleary eyes noted when the newcomer had entered, ordered fire whiskey, and when Dotty sees so clearly where he went to pay for his drink and where he returned his wallet that set the trigger off. She had to take.

Peeling herself off the table with something crispy (maybe she should get her hair washed) she tried to stretch and slap her numb face awake. With a fierce in-tents-city to focus it was almost like clarity for the normally fuzzy (small cute and fuzzy) witch animagus. And gosh, talk about easy pockets. Dotty had slipped right by when heading out the door, not even a distraction or wand movement to lift the dude's wallet.

Outside she was nose deep in investigating her spoils. Whatever the frick? Was it embroidered? All these strange scribbles on it. All over the front and back and pockets and leathers off it. And it didn't rattle in satisfactory audibleness. To suggest coin count.

Well what the who? Guy with so stupid of a wallet had to be loaded to afford a crazy design and keep more load in it. Course after turning it over a few times Dotty had forgotten which way was up with it.

Unfortunately, there was no sign of his wallet on the ground outside the pub. Casting his gaze up toward High Street, then down the other direction of the lane, Sachairi fretted silently. He'd already paid, so at least there was that - but he wasn't keen on having to explain himself to Headmistress McGonagall if the wallet were opened and something went terribly wrong. Unbidden, an image of her stern, hawkish glare crossed the man's mind, and he winced, as if he were still a schoolboy trying to master Transfiguration under her disapproving stare. She had only been a Professor then, and much younger. If anything, age and the promotion had made her even more intimidating. Sachairi had great respect for McGonagall, and, though he wasn't wanting to catch the sharp end of her tongue, he also just genuinely didn't want to disappoint her. Not to mention, there could be other consequences. The Misuse of Magic Office came to mind...

Actively anxious now, Sachairi put his hands on his hips, thinking quickly. He spun in a broad circle, slowly turning on one heel, eyes cast upward - a tiny, mostly-controlled fit of annoyance. Come on now, it's got to be here somewhere! He supposed the fact that he hadn't heard anything explode nearby was a good sign, but then he wondered - what if it was stolen and they Disapparated to London or something?

But hey, wait a moment... who was that, and what was she up to?

Pure dumb instinct motivated the small man. With a jolt of alarm, he ran toward Dotty, meaning to snatch the wallet away before anything terrible could happen. He didn't even call out a warning, just sprinted toward her much the same way he would have done if he'd seen a small child playing near Fiendfyre.

(( Your call whether she opens it before he gets to her and if so what happens. ))

Finally there was a zipper to find. No, not a zipper, a simple fold that did look like where the money was. Jackpot, as they said back home, a land of also 'house always wins' and 'what happens here stays here' and 'married in five minutes or less.'

Dotty put two eager fingers into fishing out coins...

And that's when something happened. First there was a bright glow, nigh blinding, and then a chomp. Dotty stupidly blinked at the flash, a slight delay to realizing that the freaking wallet had just bitten her hand!!! With a yelp that arm swung wide and backwards, chompy wallet still there as her hand hit something hard.

He was too late. He had known it even as he began to run. Still, hope triumphed over experience, and Sachairi had darted forward, but he wasn't quite there when it happened.  A bright flash. Sachairi skidded to a halt, squeezing his eyes shut against the sudden brilliance and the certain knowledge that his spell had just been triggered and was -not- doing as it ought. He remembered his lesson  to the NEWT students back on the 2nd and grimaced ruefully. Why had he done this with his own wand and not a crystal? A fine object lesson they'll be getting from this if you're not careful, he scolded himself mentally.

He had just enough time to react to the bright light and to rue his poor planning. Then he heard the woman yelp, and something hit him round the head. Hard. "Yowch!" He stumbled backward, lights flashing in his vision, hands rising to the bashed spot on his temple. Rubbing the spot, he squinted at Dotty, jerking backwards a moment later to avoid another flailing blow. "Oi! Watch it, lass! What're ye bleatin' on for?" In his irritation, his childhood Scots speaking habits became more pronounced, overwhelming the learned habits of London speech. Obviously the spell did work to some degree, if holding the wallet was causing her such pain as to flail around and scream, but why wasn't she dropping it? "Oi, just leggo'f it, it should -- " And then he noticed that she was not gripping the wallet, but the reverse. The Individuality Principle had struck again. His grimace became a full-on wince, and he let off a rather colorful series of expletives. At least it hadn't caught fire or blown up, but this was not much of an improvement. That dragon core essence was becoming troublesome lately... He was certain that was the cause of this malfunction. Biting seemed very dragonish to him.

But the next question was, how to get the damn thing off her? He wasn't even angry with her for stealing it - in fact, he felt a weird sense of shame, as if he'd left it out carelessly and she were an innocent bystander who'd touched it by mistake. Well, in a way, she was - there were wallets and coin-pouches with defensive enchantments on the market, but how often did a thief come across do-it-yourself security measures?

Though the runt at the end of the litter her whole life, Dotty plus out stretched arms plus trademark lifted lifted shoes equalled, after some long division, decking a guy in the head. Twisting in follow-thru on that wide swing, realizing it was bum guy she just lifted the blasted wallet made her scream "You!" deck him again with her other fist this time, the one currently not being eaten, indigent for the basic indecency that a mark shouldn't come chasing down once his wallet had been lifted and for having a stupid scribbled flashy bite-y wallet.

And also, a low kick to the shins or lower, then Dotty fled again. Frockin' wallet was on her good hand too so it was an awkward grab for her wand. Gotta jinx off this bugger off somehow.

Sachairi's eyes went wide as the woman's anger became focused on him. The flailing hit was accidental, but that balled-up fist was quite surely deliberate. The little man tried to duck, but the punch struck him in the nose. He emitted a startled yelp as the strike was followed up by a nasty kick to the shin. Being hit was nothing new for him, not with several older brothers to compete with, but he hadn't been expecting it at all, so instead of dodging with his normal alacrity in such situations, the attack was quite successful. 

His nose was bleeding. Holding it with one hand, Sachairi took off after the woman, calling, "No, wait! Stop! Lemme get it off ya!" His voice was slightly muffled and distorted by the hand over his face.

"Possession is ten-ninths of the--OW"Dotty screeched, her own line of blood from her chewed out fingers. After all this effort and being bitten by a money pouch she was not about to let it back.

The pub had been some distance from main street but Dotty always forgot how few and far between the side streets were in this village. She dashed ahead to a gap between buildings while trying to juggle a wand to get the fennekin coin purse off her and, casting off handedly.

"Relashi-ACK!" came the bungled incantation, the misfired bolt bouncing off the damn thing, fricka-frack knicker-knacks, causing part of the wall Dotty was dodging past to spit out a brick turned into a block of cheese.

Now that he was more alert to what was happening, Sachairi's little-brother instincts were in full effect. He sprinted after the woman, putting everything he had into trying to catch up with her. For such a short person, he could move remarkably quickly, but she had a head start, and he was distracted by the continuing, if slow, dribble of blood from his nose. Irrationally, he was more concerned for the woman than angry with her - he hadn't missed the blood on her hand. Even as he ran, he could hear his eldest brother's voice in his mind, scolding him: "Really, Sach? She deserves it, she nicked the bloody thing!" But he brushed the thought away by firmly reminding himself of McGonagall's angry glare and the Improper Use of Magic Office. So when the thief darted down an alley, he was close on her heels, though not really gaining - she wasn't so slow herself and Sachairi was surprised to find himself really struggling to keep up.

Then he saw her raise her wand and he flinched. Before he had a chance to warn her not to do it, she bungled the spell, causing a nasty misfire. She darted past a wall as the failed spell caused it to spit out a block of cheese that had once been a brick. Drawing on many years of experience as a mayhem-causing little brother, Sachairi made a deft leap to avoid the obstacle, calling, "Oi, don't do that! Y'might overload the runes! Just..." Here he had to pause his words for a gasp of air. "Just STOP already before it eats yer bloody 'and!" By this point, a definite tone of annoyance was creeping into his voice. As far as he was concerned, she could keep the stupid thing; he just wanted to fix the malfunction so he didn't have to worry about his reputation - or his job. Of course, he acknowledged ruefully to himself as he turned the corner in pursuit, she couldn't know that. Being chased by people she'd stolen from was probably not unusual for her. Still, he couldn't just drop it. At least, not yet.

"Oid oint dot hat" came the reply from the muggee in this relationship to Dotty's mugger. That was still chasing her put she wasn't really paying attention to him anyways. Stupid flashy wallet lover, probably thinking about how much it would cost to sew every stupid scribble back into it.

"You'll never take me alive, c--" Well, maybe he wasn't a cop, or aurora bureaucratic like they called them in the United K's here, but the sentiment was the same from Dotty.

Lucky for here Hogs-alcoholic beverage many of the cottages had peaked and/or thatched roofs, the kind that came long to the ground. There was just enough height Dotty could get from jumping off a woodpile, dislodging some of the split logs, leaving her hanging off the roof with surprisingly strong grip. Both arms and the friction' wallet she was wearing like a shrunken kiddie glove. Minus the magical tooth element.

"Oh for -- " Sachairi used a very rude word. Then a few more. He was grumbling to himself at this point, having recognized the futility of trying to communicate - he wasn't the world's most eloquent person anyhow and running at top speed took enough concentration that he'd been unable to come up with anything particularly convincing to say. He was beginning to feel a sort of irritated surprise - he'd not expected to have to chase the bloody thing down! If he weren't already deeply involved he might have considered leaving the woman well alone and letting the poxy wallet eat her hand. But he was far too caught up in momentum for the thought to cross his mind as anything more than a very brief surge of annoyance. Then the crazy woman suddenly scurried up a pile of logs, nimble as a drunken yet acrobatically talented squirrel (he had no idea how accurate this thought was), knocking down a few logs in the process, and then she was dangling from the roof, trying her best to scramble up onto it.

Many wizards would have attempted to use their wands at this point.  Sachairi had never drawn his, and it didn't occur to him to. Quite forgetting that his nose was still bleeding a little, Sachairi scrambled up the woodpile in her wake. Driven by sheer momentum he moved lightly over the still-unstable surface with a sort of desperate agility, catlike but not in a good way - rather like a panicked housecat's mad dash out of a bathtub - which a larger man could never have achieved and which he himself only barely pulled off. Then, a split-second impulsive decision occurred.

Originally he had simply been following her. But now, carried upward by his own momentum, seeing her still struggling to get up and over the edge, he leaped, gambling the whole chase on that one move. If she got over the edge in time, he'd fly right past and fall on his face in the alley, probably hurt himself in some fascinating and unexpected manner, and even if he made it through intact, the thief would no doubt have time to escape before he collected himself.

If, on the other hand, she did -not- get over the edge in time, Sachairi would either grab her and pull her to the ground. Or, more probably, just crash smack into her and drag her to the ground in the process of tumbling there himself. Whatever, it'd put a stop to all this -running-. If he could just pin her down long enough to get his wand out, it'd be all over. Or so he hoped. From what he'd seen of her spellcasting so far, he was pretty confident he could disable her before she cast any unfortunate spells, but if she turned out to be unexpectedly good at dueling... well, it was too late to worry about that, wasn't it? He'd already jumped...

(( Sorry this took so long. RL's been awful lately. Your call whether she gets onto the roof first or not! ))

"Wahpp--!"

Ok, some of Dotty's normative nimbleness might have been influenced by heaving her 'breakfast of oats' be the inebriated means. Better grip and leverage that would have had her scrambling over the other side of the pitch of the roof pitch like a drunken shingleler. Not that they used fancy shingles here.

But nope, suddenly more weight than the entirety of Dotty's being even if she was wet, had her pockets loaded with ill gotten loot and she had had a large lunch, was pulling her down by the legs. Not without some struggle, as the gutter also came down and enough force of a gnawing wallet to free her fingers. Bloodily, by dint of those sharpened teeth with its tenacious security measure. Though her fingers curled instinctively.

It was almost a dazed moment that passed in the fall of tangled bodies until Dotty had enough sense to recognize both her pursuer and catcher where both. Recognizing that he had every right to his wallet back:? Zip. Much like the fraction of a zipper.

"No freshing!" she yelled as she elbowed him in the ribs/stomach, probably a splitting and merging of the syllables in the phrase 'getting fresh.' Trying to rise.