[4:32 P.M.]

As per usual, the streets of Hogsmeade were particularly quiet.  Given the occasional child or individual walking along the cobblestone path, all was peaceful.  The late afternoon sun was still quite high in the sky, though it had only recently begun to lower.  Wisps of clouds dotted the sky nonchalantly, as if welcoming an imperiling rainstorm.  This Wizarding village had already experienced its fair share of rain and thunderstorms alike for the past month, but the weather seemed to finally be letting up.

The pace at which Zavier was walking was rather slow.  He had no set destination in mind; he had the day off from Obscurus’s, so like any other middle-aged man in his forties, he was searching for something to do.  He’d already gone and shopped - and bought himself a new pair of reading spectacles, which he had tucked into the breast pocket of his robe - and had even gone to purchase himself a Butterbeer from The Leaky Cauldron earlier that day.  While he wasn’t the most sociable of wizards, he certainly wasn’t one for turning down alcohol on a day like today.

Pulling his right hand out of his pocket, he slid a handful of bright-colored beans into his mouth.  Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavor Beans.  His face twisted in disgust as he spat out a couple that looked to be discolored.  ‘Vomit’ and ‘leather’.  Disgusting.

Heading off of the main street and taking a separate one, he took another handful of the Wizarding candy into his hand and ate one bean at a time, regardless of the questionable flavors that he was bound come across...

Aberdeen walked briskly down the street, patting her work satchel absentmindedly. Right now it was full of little plastic pouches of evidence, written notes of witnesses' statements, and her camera, whose roll of film was in turn full of negatives of photos the auror had taken of the crimescene. Well, for a given definition of 'crimescene'. It was a petty theft that had taken place the day before and only just been reported today, and she knew for a fact that they already had the perpetrator in custody; the thief had been clumsy, and got herself caught in the small hours of the morning. Still, more evidence against her meant better odds of making the charges stick. And Aberdeen was going to write up a report to make these charges stick like glue. She just needed to pop into the potion shop and stock up on Fax Imliage, and then she could apparate back to the Ministry.

The man walking in front of Aberdeen was dawdling somewhat, in her opinion, and she had just about caught up to him by this point. She was just about to veer around and overtake him, when he turned down a sidestreet-- and Aberdeen saw his face. She didn't let herself react, lest she draw attention to herself. But that was almost certainly Zavier Blackstone. She'd trained herself to have a good memory for names and faces, so she wasn't likely to be mistaken. Zavier Blackstone, who everyone at the Auror Office knew wiped Roland Vulp's memory, only they couldn't prove it.

They probably never would be able to prove it. But there was something shady about Blackstone, and Aberdeen had been provided with an opportunity to gain a little more insight on him. She carried on walking a little ways down the main street, then stopped, discreetly cast a silencing charm on her feet so her footsteps wouldn't be so easy to hear, then about-turned and started down the street Blackstone was walking down, at a much more casual pace. The potion and the report could wait a little longer; the thief being held at the Ministry wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

Dungbombs.  Self-growing toad kits.  Magical whoopie cushions that sang highly lewd songs when sat upon.  Zonko's had always been Cinaed's first choice of destinations during his Hogsmeade weekends.  They always thought they were so cool - so mischievous to step inside those doors, buy some forbidden item and try to sneak it back into Hogwarts under Filch's nose.  Those had been the days - when a simple dungbomb stolen passed the Hogwarts gates was the mark of a solid, mischievous hooligan. 

How naive they'd been back then.  It was hard not to be nostalgic.  If it weren't for the throbbing discomfort of impatience. 

Cinaed stood in front of the window to Zonko's peering through the glass at the assortment of frivolous and adrenaline-stroking merchandise.  At regular intervals, his focus shifted from the window display to his own reflection in the window.  In the heat of summer, the long, black leather cloak was becoming a bit burdensome, but despite that, he kept the hood pulled up over his head.  The edges of the hood concealed most of his dark blond hair down to his brow and his eyes, but his nose and mouth were visible, as was the few strands of excess hair and beard that spilled out over the front of his robes.  The black of the cloak was unbroken, save a small, white rabbit's foot that hung from a button hole by a silver, metal clasp.

But, it wasn't his own appearance he was interested in, it was the reflection of the street behind him.  There was no sign of Manfred.  The man was late again - and he was bound to come bumbling up, going on about some excuse - he couldn't get to the floo network or something else had waylaid him.  As if Cinaed didn't face the same problem.  Manfred wasn't the only wandless wizard around - none of them had the freedom to apparate at will.  The street had remained empty of any sign of the fellow ex-Azzie but, after a few moments, someone's reflection did capture his interest.

One of Raynor's little fledgling Aurors - what was the chick's name?  Cinaed couldn't remember nor did he care.  His eyes followed her reflection in the window as she moved down the street behind some fellow Cinaed recognized but couldn't place.  She walked with that same conceited, 'I've-got-purpose-in-my-life' strut that all the Aurors seemed to use.  Probably part of their training.  Cinaed remained where he was, continuing to watch with curiosity as the pair continued down the street.  Now wasn't the time to call attention to himself. 

Zavier, oblivious to the woman’s presence continued down the alley.  It wasn’t long before he reached the end of it, and when he did, he took a right turn and started down another street.  Unlike the last, the one he was currently on seemed to be the boundary between the richer folk of Hogsmeade and those who weren’t.  To his left were two – or even three – story houses with decorated lawns, and to his opposite side were more simple-looking ones that were obviously built for a family’s efficiency.  Whilst Hogsmeade wasn’t particularly a socially-divided little village, there were those who were wealthier than others, hence why they were able to afford such nicer residences.

Having remembered only moments before that he needed to have a letter delivered, he walked in the direction of the Hogsmeade Owl Post.  Discarding his bag of Bertie Bott’s as he passed by a public trash reciprocal, he wiped his hands off on his robe and proceeded in the same direction once more.  The Owl Post was just at the end of the street, and by the looks of it, there weren’t many people coming and going from the building.

Once he was there, he opened the door and walked inside.  There were a couple of other people there, either receiving or sending their own mail, with owls that he presumed were their own.  He pulled the letter, written out to Michael Beremouth, out of his other pocket and gave it to one of the owls waiting – as if expectantly – on a wooden post near one of the many pane-less windows.

It took off, flapping its wings hard as it left its perch.  It flew through and out of the window, gaining altitude as it caught onto a strong current of wind.  He assumed that it would take a couple of days – at the very least – for his letter to actually get to Beremouth, and several more days for his book to arrive.  After a few moments of watching the brown-spotted bird, he pulled himself away from the window and went to sign his name into the ‘Expectant Customers’ list, which was merely a clipboard resting on one of the tables pushed up against the wall. 

He left the Post shortly after that and began to walk down the street once more.  This time, instead of heading in the opposite direction of the woman currently following him, he walked towards her.  Still unaware that she was in pursuit of him, he paid her no mind.  He walked on by without so much as a ‘Hello’, and instead, simply brushed past her as he continued down the all but abandoned road.

((OOC: My muse is officially dead... sorry if this post fits into the 'crap-tastic' category.))

[OOC: Not at all!]

As Blackstone reached the post office, Aberdeen reached the bin he'd tossed something into. It had looked like sweet packet. In fact it probably was. But it was worth double-checking. After glancing up ahead to make sure Blackstone wasn't looking back, Aberdeen slid her wand from its hiding place in her sleeve back into her left hand, pointed it into the bin and muttered, 'Accio.' She deftly caught the empty Bertie Bott's bag and realising that it was, after all, just an empty packet, slipped it nonchalantly into her pocket and slid her wand back up her sleeve. Was there such a thing as being too thorough? If there was, Aberdeen didn't want to know about it.

Before she reached the post office, she saw an owl fly out of it and, about a minute later, Blackstone emerged. He was walking back the way he came, right towards her. Aberdeen worried for a moment that he would recognise her, but then realised her fears were groundless. The two of them had never met; she only knew his face and history from the MLE's file on him. Sure enough, he passed by without even noticing her.

Now what to do? Double back and start following him again, risking him noticing he was being tailed? Go into the post office to find out where he'd sent the owl, and risk losing him altogether? Aberdeen decided to chance a third option.

She stopped for a moment, then turned around, trotting to catch up to Blackstone. 'Excuse me-- are you-- you don't happen to work in Obscurus Books, do you?' She feigned an expression of one vaguely recognising someone, and trying to place them.

The frivolous wares in the shop window no longer held any of Cinaed's attention.  He kept a close eye on the man's progress down the street but, for the most part, his eyes remained fixed on the woman.  Neither had yet to notice him. 

It was clear, from what Cinaed could see in the reflection in the window, the woman was like a scent hound on the trail of its quarry.  It was, undoubtedly, the mistake of a novice - she seemed so fixated on her pursuit that she hadn't bothered to check the area for other potential hazards.  It was a shame it was unlikely he'd relay any of this to his dear old Ministry Supervisor.   How he'd love to point out to Raynor what classic ... and potentially fatal ... mistakes her minions were making in the field. 

Of course, if he told Raynor, these little law rats might actually learn from their mistakes.  And, that would spoil the whole fun. 

His fists clenched in the ends of his sleeves and his upper lip curled into a sneer as he watched Blond Auror pocket the discarded candy wrapper.  So, the Ministry - or at the very least, this low-level minion - was gathering information on this man.  Cinaed glanced sideways as a teenage girl stepped tentatively out of the shop - presumably after having seen the dark sneer settle on Cinaed's features through the window.  "Afternoon," he said, in a feigned, charmed manner to the back of the girl as she moved around the side of the building.

Through the quiet of the street, he could hear the woman's voice, asking the man a question.  So, this woman had her quota to fill and was looking to fill it with this man.  Ahh - well, by principle, any enemy of the Ministry was a friend of his. 

"You're under no obligation to answer that, or any other question this ... woman ... asks you," Cinaed said, projecting his voice to carry across the street with just the slightest hint of amusement.  "The Ministry will use an unbelievably obscene tactics to deny the dutiful, hardworking British Wizards of their Merlin-given rights."

[OOC: Let me know if I'm posting out of turn here.]

As soon as Aberdeen heard that familiar voice and turned to see the ex-Azzie it belonged to, the following conversation, condensed into the space of about 2.3 seconds, took place in her head:

-- Shoddy work, Spencer! Letting yourself be caught out by a crook!
-- Hey come on, what were the odds Cinaed Tawse would be in the same area of Hogsmeade at the same time as me? I can't help that Murphy is conspiring against me!
-- Oh please, Murphy is always conspiring against you. You should be used to it by now.

Hm, good point. She'd become rusty after two years away; she had to be much more careful. But first, to salvage a bad situation. There was no point in denying she was an auror at this point, because Tawse would almost certainly delight in revealing her. So instead, not bothering to hide her expression of surprise, she called back, 'Tawse! Fancy seeing you here. Don't worry, I've no official business left here.'

((OOC: Lol, yeah, you did.  But no worries!  It gave me more to work with.  ))

Being tailed - though he wasn’t sure if said term was as appropriate to be used for Cináed Tawse - by an Auror and an ex-convict wasn’t something that had happened to Zavier in the past.  Normally, he was usually kept under the Ministry’s ‘sneak-o-scope’, but hadn’t been confronted by a single official ever since his tussle with Roland Vulp.  This woman was going to some great lengths by following him around Hogsmeade to try to dig up some dirt that would persuade the high court to throw him into Azkaban.

When the woman said her piece in response to Cináed’s warning, they would find that Zavier was simply standing idly by, waiting for his chance to defend himself. 

“While I admire your curiosity, miss,” he said, “You could have been apprehending an actual criminal who poses an actual threat to our world, instead of following a middle-aged man around who has nothing better to do with his time than sitting in his rocking chair, reading the morning edition of the Daily Prophet.

“I do work in Obscurus.  I just happened to have the day off today, hence my being out here.  Don’t take this the wrong way, but it sounds like a couple of days off would do you some good, as well.”

His face remained blank and emotionless as he spoke.  He showed no hostility towards the woman, nor did he give the impression that he was at all bothered by her presence.  He wasn’t annoyed by her being there in the least; in fact, it amused him slightly to know that even after all these years, that the Ministry still had him on record for his alleged - but quite factual, unbeknownst to them - attack on Vulp.

Cinaed walked up towards the pair, continuing on his path until he was just behind Blond Auror.  By the rules of social etiquette, he'd trespassed into the woman's physical space - a transgression that, given his overall size was bound to be even more pronounced. 

"Ahh, yes.  Whatever your name is," he said as he fished in his pocket for a thick, hand-rolled cigarette and propped it in the corner of her mouth.  "Fancy seeing you here, as well."  A sly smirk settled on his face as he patted his pockets expectantly.  "Appears I've forgotten my matches - care to loan me your wand for a quick light?"

A bark of a laugh escaped him and he looked across to the dark-haired fellow.  "Name's Tawse," he offered, extending a hand towards the fellow.  "Cinaed Tawse.  I've seen you around, but have failed to meet you.  I'd introduce you to our friendly neighborhood Auror here but, I must say, I've never bothered learning her name.  But, meet one Auror, you've met them all, right?"  He arched an eyebrow as he listened to the fellow answer the woman's questions. 

Aberdeen tensed a little at Tawse's close proximity, but she held her ground and managed to keep her demeanor void of discomfort; her attitude when it came to people like Tawse was 'Don't give them the satisfaction.' Pretending she hadn't heard his request for a light, she smiled wryly. 'I'm glad to hear I'm nothing out of the ordinary, Tawse.' Though I could stand to be a little more forgettable, evidently.

Turning back to Blackstone, Aberdeen adopted a slightly more pleasant tone. 'Unfortunately, taking time off would cut into my apprehending of actual criminals... But you know, perhaps you're right, perhaps I should take a break. It certainly did Roland Vulp a world of good.' Her small smile was polite enough, but neither it nor her conversational tone of voice reached her eyes. If he already knew she was following him, discovering anything covertly was a negligable possibility; all she could do at this point was remind him the Ministry hadn't forgotten him. At the very least, she hadn't.

“Pleasure to meet you, Cináed,” Zavier replied, extending his own hand to meet his.  Giving it a firm, meaningful shake, he released it and turned back to the Auror.  When she spoke, the edginess that had been present in her voice when she spoke to Tawse was no longer there; however, he knew that she was by no means was trying to be friendly with him.  She, like the rest of the Ministry was suspicious of what transpired between him and Vulp in 1999.  It was only natural, he supposed, that she follow him throughout Hogsmeade to try to get enough evidence to help prove their case.  Unfortunately for her, though, after today, he was going to be much more vigilante and careful about what he did and where he did it.  Now that he knew this woman was on his tail, things were going to change.  He couldn't afford more suspicion directed towards himself - in terms of attacking another Ministry worker like he had nine years ago.

“How is he, by the way?” he asked, managing to keep a look of sincere mild concern upon his face.  “Vulp?  Last I heard, he was still bedfast and demoted to desk clerk.”

Not a pang of remorse was felt for the man as he spoke of him.  Roland Vulp, Zavier knew, wasn’t the most kindest of people working for the Ministry.  A ‘glory-hog’ was one of the few secretive titles he’d earned himself over the years.  That probably explained why he was the only one tailing Zavier the day he cast the Obliviate spell on him.

Aberdeen watched warily as the two men exchanged pleasantries. A guarded smile continued to play about her lips; she wasn't the most skilled at keeping her face blank, so she liked to keep it occupied with expressions that weren't easy to identify. Right now she was noting with grim satisfaction Tawse's eagerness to acquaint himself with someone who appeared to have a somewhat tarnished record. Of course, any association with the ex-convict would likely serve to tarnish Blackstone's record further. This suited Aberdeen just fine.

'You heard right,' Aberdeen replied to Blackstone lightly. 'Though I suppose you haven't heard that he was asked to take early retirement a while back. He was never quite the same after what happened.' She watched for a reaction, doubting she'd actually see any. Blackstone didn't really care about what happened to Vulp, she was sure. He probably didn't know what a talented, driven man Vulp had been, how much potential he had back then. And he certainly didn't know that Aberdeen and Vulp had been on friendly terms during her auror training.

Cinaed's grin twitched slightly and he waggled his eyebrows at the shorter woman, propping the cigarette in the corner of his mouth.  Despite the insistence that he lacked a light, when the woman ignored his request for a light, Cinaed fished a finger in an inside pocket and pulled out a match.  "Nothing out of the ordinary, indeed," he grinned.  It wasn't, necessarily, a compliment.

After shaking the other man's hand, Cinaed listened closely as the Auror and her quarry launched into a conversation about some Roland Vulp.  While the name rung familiar, he couldn't place it exactly.  Though, it sounded like the man had something to do with the Law Enforcement Office.  However, Cinaed's curiosity about the dark fellow opposite had grown.  What had transpired between this man and this Vulp.  It would be a topic he'd need to pursue in more appropriate company.  "Desk clerk is a respectable position," Cinaed said, coyly.

His attention shifted back to the auror, considering her comments.  "Oh, now, no fair sparking one's interest like that and leaving blokes clueless.  What happened to this poor Vulp?" 

The fact that Vulp had to have been demoted to desk clerk was an amusing fact by itself, but Cináed's immediate comment following the Auror’s statement made Zavier bite his tongue.  He doubted that bursting out in whole-hearted laughter at the fact that the once self-thought ‘do-gooder’ became nothing more than a mere secretary with the Ministry.  Clamping down on the edge of his tongue as the ex-con and added on to his remark, Zavier, still managing to fend off his amused state spoke in place of the woman.

“From what I heard, his wand backfired on him,” he said, allowing a faint hint of concern to spread over his face.  He sounded - and looked - true to his word and the utmost sincere, but deep down, he felt absolutely no sorrow or grief for the man.  After all, it wasn’t like he’d hexed him or had cast the killing curse upon him.  “Of course, how can one even believe what they hear nowadays?  Rumors can be - and are - quite common, you know.”

The rumor flying around at the ministry about Zavier and his alleged attack on Vulp, to his knowledge and the faint suspicion of everyone else’s was in no way a rumor.  He knew that there would be no way for anybody in the Ministry or elsewhere to prove the fact that he was the man’s aggressor.  Unless there was an eye-witness - which there wasn’t - of their short-lived confrontation, he was as innocent as anybody else.

Aberdeen raised an eyebrow at Tawse as if to say, 'I see you have a match after all,' but didn't comment on it out loud. She turned to Blackstone with a discerning look; she had held off answering Tawse for a moment, curious to see if Blackstone would volunteer an answer. He didn't disappoint. Don't get cute with me, Blackstone, she thought sternly, I know it was you.

'Oh, certainly,' she replied airily, neither confirming nor denying the 'wand backfiring' remark. 'Of course, some of the most successful rumours have a grain of truth to them. It was unfortunate, wasn't it? If only Vulp had been a bit more careful, maybe it could have been avoided.' Aberdeen's tone was light, but her expression made her double meaning clear. Much as she liked Vulp, she couldn't deny he had been caught out by Blackstone, getting himself Obliviated with no witnesses around.

In fact, much as she hated to admit it, she had probably been going the right way to getting herself caught out as well; if Tawse had noticed her intentions, odds were Blackstone would have as well. She was in the irksome position of being almost indebted to Tawse for calling her out in a fairly public area of the village. She'd have to be careful to exercise a lot more discretion in future-- not let her personal feelings get in the way or her work. Though ever since the murder of her son's biological mother, it felt as though law enforcement and Aberdeen's personal life were inextricably entangled.