1450 hours


It had been a long morning, full of strange meetings and even stranger reports of what many deemed 'untoward' behaviour on the other floors of the Ministry of Magic. His own Unspeakables had been exhibiting atypical affections. The team in the Love Chamber were working on an explanation, and Yavin had wisely escaped to the floor above in order to obtain a set of scrolls that promised to be useful to the researchers in the Brain Room.

"I'll, hm, I'll need to take them down," the older wizard had slipped on to the librarian's counter and was chatting in an amiable manner.
            "What on earth for?" Thackeray exclaimed, returning from the towering shelves with two cups of tea, which he set down on the surface otherwise strewn with old parchment and stamps.

"Let's just say that, aha, the beings who need them can't exactly, uhm, exactly leave my department." Yavin laughed to himself as he thought of the sentient brains in their tanks, and accepted the drink. "But they're quick readers!" he added before pouring his tea into its saucer.

Procuring favours from other floors was always something of an adventure for level nine. Unspeakables usually had to send trainees all over the place, or risk a tedious exchange of memos about why they needed twelve pints of goblin blood when, obviously, that information was secret. Sometimes he liked to do the legwork himself, particularly for his own pet projects.

Yavin was just about to take a drink from his saucer, bringing it up to his lips, when his elbow nearly glanced off the head of a witch who was approaching the counter. Whoops!

"Aha, ah, sorry," he carefully lowered the precariously presented beverage and glanced at her through his gleaming spectacles. "You've, hm, you've nearly made friends with my sharp corners there."