A pair of sleek black wings flapped effortlessly through the swiftly darkening sky as the magpie fluttered between the stone and metal buildings lining the streets of London.  Occasionally, the bird settled on top of a stone wall and watch the traffic or pedestrians along the sidewalk.  In this manner, the bird gradually made its way to Charing Cross road, where it settled on a window ledge opposite the newly reopened Leaky Cauldron.  There the magpie remained for some time, casually preening its feathers while surreptitiously watching the pub's comings and goings.

Once dusk had faded into night, the magpie took wing, following a small barn owl’s flight path as it swooped up and over the rooftops along Charing Cross road, down Diagon Alley and, eventually reaching its destination at the very foot of Knockturn Alley.  In the desolate shadows of the doorway of the old Black Chimaera, the magpie landed and transformed into a tall, burly wizards dressed in a long black cloak.  The wizard straightened up, rolled his shoulders back and flipped the hood of his cloak down over his head, fully hiding his face in shadows. 

Cinaed Tawse ached with longing to return to his old pub, but the building had stood cold and abandoned for two years.  He’d long wondered what had become of Seamus, the old blind mastiff that had been his companion in the pub.  His sudden flight after his standoff with the Ministry at his family home in Scotland meant there’d been no time to come and fetch the poor old hound.  Hopefully, one of the many denizens of Knockturn had taken pity on the dog and taken him in. 

Though it was his own pub that Cinaed truly wanted, he was desperate for companionship.  Something resembling the conversation and camaraderie he'd thrived on at the Black Chimaera.  Two years in hiding had taken its toll and the wizard needed more human interaction than a five year old and his imperioused caretaker could provide.  He hoped, after two years, the Ministry had found other things to worry about, other witches or wizards to chase after, and Cinaed could hazard an evening surrounded by familiar faces and old stomping grounds.

Taking care to keep his hood low, Cinaed moved along the alley to the  Demon’s Head and stepped inside.  He took a seat along the bar and tugged out several silver sickles.  “Ale,” he ordered. “Any interesting news about?” he asked to the figured seated next to him. 
Hopefully, amidst the usual hustle of the pub, his presence would be dismissed as just another of the local patrons. 

Domnall sat in the Demon's Head, lost in thought. He was sketching on a napkin, drafting another new tattoo design. This one was vaguely reminiscent of a phoenix, made up of swirls and jagged edges. He paused to take a sip of mead from the pint in front of him, looking up when the door to the pub creaked open.

The man who entered was, at first, uninteresting - a generic black cloak, no visible face. Could be anyone. But as the man sat down next to him, Domnall noticed a long, blond beard twisted into two wisps. Wait. He knew a beard like that. Watching the man out of the corner of his eye, Domnall continued sketching, trying to subtly get a look at the face hidden under the hood.

"Any interesting news about?"

Domnall had to bite his tongue to keep from smiling. He'd know that voice anywhere. But instead of clapping him on the back, hugging him, buying him a pint, Domnall answered casually, "The cabana's been antsy these days." To any passing listener, it would sound like idle chatter, or else nonsense, but hopefully Cináed would remember the time he talked about starting the KABANA - Knockturn Association of Businesses and Neighbors, or something - and make the connection.

Cinaed had, of course, recognized Domnall as soon as he’d entered the small pub.  The man’s identity was where the sense of familiarity with this particular exchange ended.  Cinaed too had to fight the urge to greet his old friend with a bark of a laugh and rouse up the small pub with a round of free drinks.  At least, that’s how it would have gone down back in the day.  Back at the old Black Chimaera when music would have been spilling out from the corner phonograph and neighbors would have gathered around tables for the weekly animated bone fights.
 
With a deep-souled pang that could only come from knowing that, for him, the old days were beyond reach, the Scottish wizard offered a flat, pained grin in greeting that was largely hidden by the hood.  Cinaed’s casual disinterest and bored detachment was so outside the norm that it was painfully uncomfortable.
 
“Antsy?  Business has been slow?”  Cinaed’s natural inclination was to trust the denizens of Knockturn without a second thought.  But, he had to constantly remind himself that there were too many self-serving Slytherin alums that wouldn’t hesitate to turn him in for a taste of the reward.
 
Despite the need for caution, Cinaed couldn’t resist projecting his voice so that more than a few of their neighbors could hear.  “Don’t tell me the solidarity of Knockturn is faltering.  Are we losing hope in our unified goal?”

Domnall smiled bitterly back at his old friend. His eyes said, I miss you, we miss you, Seamus misses you but his mouth said nothing. He wished desperately that he could steal a time-turner, wind back the clock two years, spirit Cináed away into a reality where everything was the way it used to be. He had no real idea where his friend had vanished to, but he imagined it must be lonely.

"More folks come to shoot the breeze than get ink, recently," he answered - in the two years after Cináed's disappearance and the closure of the Black Chimaera, his tattoo parlor had become a bit of a centerpoint for the Alliance. As many or more people came to him for news as for tattoos, it seemed; he didn't mind being the one to keep everyone connected. It made him feel important.

"If you think Knockturn would stumble, brother, you've been away too long. Just getting restless, some folk are. Want to see some changes around." He looked into his drink thoughtfully. He could feel something brewing in the way people grumbled, rarely mentioning Cináed's name but asking such things as "when will the Chimaera be open?" or "have you heard from him?" The Alliance was stirring, but without someone to direct its energy it was stagnating.

Atticus strolled through the poorly lit alleyways of Knockturn in a casual manner, his hands in his pockets as he smoked a cigarette. It had been an uneventful day, so he decided to spice things up and grab a drink at the Demon's Head. There was usually a motley collection of people at the pub, most of which Atticus knew personally or by reputation. Knockturn Alley tended to attract the type of people that he most enjoyed meeting and working with, and the Demon's Head was no exception.

Upon reaching his destination, Atticus tossed his cigarette and went through the door. He headed straight for the bar, noting that one of his contacts and friends, Dom ó Mordha, was sitting there next to a wizard he didn't recognize. "Triple firewhiskey, neat." He said as he took a seat next to Dom.

"If you think Knockturn would stumble, brother, you've been away too long. Just getting restless, some folk are. Want to see some changes around."

"That's what the birds have been saying, anyways." Atticus said, agreeing as he clapped Dom on the back. "How are you brother, it's been a few."

Cinaed Tawse had known for two years now that a reorganization of the Ministry of Magic would not only bring the wizarding race to glory but it was also his ticket to freedom.  Once the current oppressive regime was replaced, he had a chance of clearing his name and coming back out into the open.  He might be able to return to his old pub.  It was good to hear that there was still fire burning in the residents of Knockturn Alley. 

But, there was only so much the fugitive could say in their present location.  He let out a long, slow sigh and nodded his head.  "I have been away too long," he confirmed.  That statement was true in so many ways.  Loyalty allowed him to continue feeling connected to the WBA and the Knockturn community but it was easy to feel like he was peering through the window, watching from the outside.  "They aren't the only ones who are restless.  Somehow,-" he started, but his voice trailed off as a figure took the seat next to Dom. 

It warmed Cinaed's heart to hear the young unfamiliar wizard confirm his friend's words.  Cinaed cast a stealthy sideways glance at the newcomer while carefully keeping his face concealed under the cloak's hood. 

"Perhaps, we need an opportunity to speak more openly." 

Domnall smiled, a little sadly, at his old friend. He reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, trusting the gesture to speak for him. It really had been far too long - for two years the old pub that felt like a second home had stood empty, frequented only by ghosts and memories. He raised an inquisitive eyebrow when Cináed started to speak, only to cut himself off. He looked up curiously, his face changing to one of gladness when he saw Atticus.

Clapping the young man on the shoulder, Dom greeted him, "Roark, my friend! Been too long. How are you holding up?" Turning to Cináed, he explained, "This is Atticus. He's one of us." He would have made proper introductions, but using the name 'Cináed Tawse' in public was not a good idea. Instead, he said, "Atticus, this is... an old friend of mine. From school."

"Perhaps, we need an opportunity to speak more openly."

Domnall nodded. "Well said. Hey, it's been a while, need any new ink? There's someone at the parlor I think would like to see you." See might not be the best word, given that the "someone" in question was blind, but oh well.

"Perhaps, we need an opportunity to speak more openly." 

Atticus raised his eyebrows as he heard the stranger speak. He'd heard variations of this phrase hundreds of time in his short career as an information broker. He knew that Dom associated with the WBA, and supposed this cloaked man might be someone who runs with the same group of people. It was all the same to Atticus though, while he wasn't a member of the alliance he certainly wasn't against them. It had been clear to him since he was a child that witches and wizards were the dominant species on earth and deserved their place at the top.

"Roark, my friend! Been too long. How are you holding up?" Turning to Cináed, he explained, "This is Atticus. He's one of us."

"I've been well, you know." Atticus said vaguely with a smile. "Status quo." He added with a wink. Dom had been a reliable person in his life ever since his expulsion from Hogwarts. Prior to that, he was been an external information contact for Atticus. It was always useful to keep certain people informed about the going-ons at the school. At times, Atticus missed the simplicity of being a student informant.

Upon being introduced to the cloaked man, Atticus turned and nodded without waiting for a name. He was under the impression that whoever this was needed a certain level of discretion - which wasn't uncommon for someone hanging around Knockturn.

[M-Rating!  A bit of naughty language ahead]

Cinaed smiled broadly under the shadow of the hood as the two men greeted each other, nodding his head when the younger lad was introduced.  Dom's seal of approval was all Cinaed needed and the Scotsman offered a polite "good to meet you."    It was a much more subdued greeting than Cinaed would normally have offered. 

It was time to move the party elsewhere.  Cinaed tugged his hood further forward and led the way out of the Demon's Head into the darkened alleyway.  As soon as they'd reached Domnall's shop, Cinaed could hear the tell tale signs of a dog sniffing at the crack along the bottom of the door followed closely by a loud, booming bark.  As soon as the door opened, 160 pounds of leggy fur threw itself at Cinaed's chest.  It was, perhaps, the most animated Cinaed had seen the normally oafishly lazy dog. 

Cinaed quickly shuffled into the shop before the dog's antics managed to tug his outer cloak off his shoulders.  Once safely inside, he tossed his robe over a nearby chair and stooped to greet the old mastiff properly.  Damn he'd missed that dumb old animal.  He'd always wondered about the animal after his initial flight from Tamis Raynor and her Aurors.  The dog's face had only just begun to heal from the runespoor venom explosion that had taken the hound's eyesight.  Now, it looked healed.  Scarred and eyeless but healed. 

After a few paw-induced bruises and a healthy dose of slobber, Cinaed straightened up and turned to properly greet the youngest of their group.  He wiped his hand on his cloak and extended it to Atticus.  "Cinaed.  Pleased to meet you, properly.  Apologies for the cloak and dagger but, as you might imagine, there's plenty about who'd be looking to make a quick galleon by summoning the Ministry.  Wouldn't want that, would we Dom!"

Cinaed barked the name in greeting and turned to wrap his friend in a big bear hug.  "Aye, so good to see you.  You have no fucking bloody idea."   

Domnall followed Cináed out of the pub, nearly bursting with the excitement of seeing his friend again, and the impending reunion between the Scottish wizard and the loyal mastiff he'd been taking care of. He opened the door to his shop, standing safely behind the door as Seamus launched himself at Cináed. He smiled fondly, laughing to himself. Hardened criminal though Cináed may have been, it would seem he was still soft as anything for that dog.

Closing the door behind them as they made their way into the shop, Domnall made sure the sign was flipped to "closed" - wouldn't want anyone barging in. Especially not now that Cináed had taken his cloak off and was greeting Atticus properly. He was happy to see Cináed's time away hadn't eroded his sociable nature. And then his friend's attention turned to him, and Dom's face split into a grin.

Burying his face in Cináed's shoulder, Dom hugged him tightly. "Cináed, you have no bloody fucking idea how much we missed you. Hasn't been the same since the Chimaera closed." Pulling back slightly to look the other man over, he asked, "But how have you been? Where have you been?"

Remembering Atticus, Dom turned and explained, "This bastard's been gone for two years without so much as saying goodbye. It's a bit of a tearful reunion, see." He kept a hand on Cináed's shoulder, as if to stop him from disappearing again. Or maybe just to confirm he was really here, not an apparition or a dream or a cruel joke.

Atticus followed the two out of the pub, interested in where they were going. He supposed Dom's shop was a good, quiet place to have a conversation without being overheard and it turned out that's where they were headed. After stumbling and almost grabbing for his wand at the surprise of the dog appearing, Atticus burst out laughing at the scene. This was apparently a long waited reunion between the hound and the stranger.

"Cináed.  Pleased to meet you, properly.  Apologies for the cloak and dagger but, as you might imagine, there's plenty about who'd be looking to make a quick galleon by summoning the Ministry.  Wouldn't want that, would we Dom!"

Atticus raised his eyebrows as he made the connection. So this was the infamous Cináed Tawse. He'd heard stories about the man and his pub for years, but by the time he was expelled from Hogwarts, Cináed had vanished into this air. Rumor was he was on the run from the ministry, which was evidently correct based on attire and general mysteriousness when out in public. "Ah, a pleasure." Atticus said nodding, "I know you through reputation, of course. Atticus Roark, information broker." He added casually, secretly hoping that his name might've passed through Cináed's ears at some point.

"This bastard's been gone for two years without so much as saying goodbye. It's a bit of a tearful reunion, see."

"So I've heard," Atticus said as he turned to Dom. "Someone's gotta keep the Auror's on their feet, eh? Can't let them get too comfortable." Atticus jested as he turned back to Cináed and asked "Out of the country I expect? Or at the very least, a ways from London."

"Information broker?"  Cináed repeated, obviously intrigued.  Unfortunately, it was the lad's occupation rather than his name that had caught the wizard's attention.  This said far less about Atticus' notoriety than it did about Cináed's near complete disconnection from the wizarding world and its criminal element. 

With a slow nod of his head, Cináed grinned slyly and glanced between his friend and (for him) the newcomer.  "There's a good chance I might have some jobs for someone with your talents.  One in particular comes to mind..."  Cináed ran a hand over his forked beard as he seemed to give the idea some thought.  There was, in fact, some very important information that needed to be delivered which Cináed knew Dom could certainly handle.  But, there was a very important flaw in their dynamic: their friendship wasn't exactly secret.  And, if and old friend of Cináed's showed up for this particular errand, it would be too easy for the Ministry to connect the dots. 

And, it would be right under the Ministry's grimy noses. 

"I'm afraid I can't offer much in payment, now.  There's not a lot of wealth to be had in living on the run and without my pub, there is no income."  Which, brought them to a very important point.  Cináed tilted his head back to give Domnall a broad toothy grin. 

"Whiiiich," Cináed drew out the word in poor attempt at suspense.  "Is about ready to reopen at a new location.  Stop by the Black Widow a few doors down and ask to talk to Nicola.  She'll tell you all you need to know about the new and improved Black Chimaera[1].  You're welcome to check it out, as well," Cináed offered to Atticus.  "Then, I might even be able to pay you for your services." 

"This bastard's been gone for two years without so much as saying goodbye. It's a bit of a tearful reunion, see."

"If there'd been an opportunity for goodbyes, you know I would have taken it.  I'm afraid things went south quick.  After Robards' untimely death[2], four bloody aurors came high tailing it after me.  There were unexpected complications."  Cináed looked back towards Dom, intensely.  "Remember that witch Margo I bunked with right after getting out?[3]  Turns out she had a kid.  Son.  When Margo died, the Ministry let the lad be adopted by a muggleborn Auror and her muggle husband."

1.	The New, Secret Location for the old pub
2.	Gawain Robards - Previous head of the DoMLE, murdered by Auror Aberdeen Spencer who was imperiused by Cináed
3.	Robin Adani - aka Fionn Tawse - adopted by Aberdeen Spencer after Margo Valdaine's death and kidnapped by Cináed the night he imperiused Aberdeen and used her to murder Gawain Robards

"Aye, Atticus here was an inside contact while he was at Hogwarts. Found 'im stumbling around the Alley not long after you left," Domnall elaborated. "Good lad."

He raised an eyebrow when Cináed mentioned a job for Atticus. "Don't tell me you're already planning something? This is why we can't leave you alone," he teased. "But please, tell us more. If you're getting your hands dirty again, I want in." Truth be told, his life as a tattoo artist was nice, but Dom missed the thrill of mischief that always seemed to accompany his friend. Though their mischief might be a tad more... illegal... than it was back in their school days, the rush was the same.

Cináed's grin was infectious. "You fox, Cináed! It's high time, though - wait 'till Manfred hears about this. He's been grumbling for ages, y'know." He didn't mention that Manfred was also a ghost. All things in time.

Dom nodded as Cináed told his story. "I remember when it hit the news - went straight to the pub and brought Seamus back here. Figured I'd take care of him 'til you came back." His face changed to one of surprise, then disgust. "You're a dad? Congratulations, mate! Tell me you got him away from those -" he wrinkled his nose - "I don't even have a word for that. He's your son, for God's sakes!"

"There's a good chance I might have some jobs for someone with your talents.  One in particular comes to mind..."

Atticus stroked his chin thoughtfully as he listened to the offer. Cináed Tawse was a name he'd heard many times around Knockturn, and of course he had walked by his closed down pub hundreds of time in the short year he'd lived in the neighborhood. Atticus was always looking to expand his contacts and influence, so any opportunity was worth pursueing.

"I'm afraid I can't offer much in payment, now.  There's not a lot of wealth to be had in living on the run and without my pub, there is no income."

He had been expecting this and considered it a non-issue for now. Atticus valued favors as much as he did gold. The end game for him was never amassing wealth - sure, if that happened along the way there certainly wouldn't be any complaints but he was far more interested in the influence and power that comes with success. Like most things, Atticus considered his criminal pursuits as a game to be won. "I'm not opposed to it, nor do I need payment anytime soon. I'm happy to help out a new friend." He said after a moment of consideration as he shifted his weight and cracked his kunckles. "What do you have in mind?" He asked, curious what the man had to offer.

"Then, I might even be able to pay you for your services." 

"Heh, we'll see how things work out. I've heard many stories about the original pub, so I greatly anticipate the re-opening," Atticus remarked, adding "I'll expect a few whiskeys on the house, of course"  with a smile.

"Aye, Atticus here was an inside contact while he was at Hogwarts. Found 'im stumbling around the Alley not long after you left," Domnall elaborated. "Good lad."

Atticus laughed as he looked back on the old days. "My humble beginnings." He chuckled. He didn't remember the exact circumstances that led to meeting Domnhall a few years prior, but they led to him being a bit of an informant to him and by extention the WBA on the goings-on at Hogwarts. There were always opportunities to assess other sutdents for their potential as well. Belief in blood purity and wizard supremacy was an obvious must, but a certain aptitude was another important consideration. Atticus was one of the best in the dueling club during his time at the school, so he had good insight into who had the right instinct. Everyone had their uses though, like pieces on a chess board. He prided himself in determining who had the best potential and for what.

"I remember when it hit the news - went straight to the pub and brought Seamus back here. Figured I'd take care of him 'til you came back."

He nodded, almost to himself in confirmation over what led Cináed to go on the run. He'd heard stories, obviously a chase involving Aurors is going to get around but to meet him in person was certainly an experience. Atticus was used to dealing with people at least five or ten years senior to him, so he did his best to present himself as a competent and capable wizard. He was of age and exceptionally capable, despite his expulsion from Hogwarts.

Cinaed dropped into a nearby chair as he eyed the young lad with an appraising look, draping his arms over the back in a casual and comfortable manner.  “I’d hardly call those humble beginnings,” he offered with an amicable smile.  “Sounds like you started out early on the right foot.  Good on you, lad; glad to hear your mind wasn’t muddled with all that learning.”

It was good to hear that Dom had continued cultivating talent from within Hogwarts, especially now that accessing the castle was nearly impossible[1] for Cinaed. 

“I'm happy to help out a new friend.  What do you have in mind?”

“Exactly what you’re thinking: helping out a new friend,” Cinaed began to explain.  He tugged a pack of cigarettes from a cloak pocket and tapped out a smoke before offering the pack to the other two. 

“One important duty of KABANA was welcoming our most recent arrivals from Azkaban.  It’s no small feat to go from years on The Rock to the real world.  I used to pay a visit to new releases after they were dropped in a Bridge House[2].  Bring fresh wizard robes, socks and the like - help them get set up, again.  An old friend from Azkaban is releasing tomorrow after thirteen years out to sea.  I’d bring a welcome pack myself but, alas, I can’t just march into a Ministry Bridge House.  Could you get a pack and letter to him?"

After lighting a smoke, Cinaed nodded his head to confirm the pub’s reopening, albeit in a new location. “Free drinks can definitely be arranged.  Just stop by anytime.  It’s about as secure as a place can be and, if you give me forewarning, you might get to meet little Fionn.”  The Auror had named the lad, yes - his son, Robin but that was a highly unfitting name for a young Scotsman. 

“My son is exactly why I’ve been playing it safe but exactly why I can’t afford to, anymore.  One false step and I’ll be back in Azkaban-“  Probably for life.  Unless…did they still perform the dementor’s kiss?  He didn’t even want to consider that.  “And, he’ll be back with that blood traitor.  I am planning.  We need to reinvigorate our lot and force the matter, if the Ministry won’t see it.  My son shouldn’t have to hide or keep to the shadows while muggles live in the open.” 

1.	The Hallowed Hogwarts Halls
2.	Ministry Bridge Houses - Ministry run group transition homes for recent Azkaban releases