Knockturn Alley was an even more disgusting place as Halloween approached.  The wind whipped down the narrow, cobbled street, stirring up whatever loose paper was lying on the street.  The sky was a milky sort of grey, dirtied with soot and things from the fuming chimneys of the crowded buildings, and the puddles on the ground from the fall rain echoed the color.  Archer was careful to avoid really stepping in them and ruining the bottoms of his pants and his standard issue boots – even the protective charms he put on that first pair might not have been strong enough for whatever was living in those nasty puddles. 

It was dirty and disgusting, and the people weren’t much better.  Every type of scum wandered the streets and Archer was glad to be wearing the stiff collared robes that were actually new- replacements for the ones ruined back in September.  He didn’t necessarily enjoy the constricted feeling about his neck, but it was a reminder that he represented a serious organization and that he was on duty.  Others clearly identified him as someone to avoid and as he walked, he received glares and quiet hissing of angered and distrustful hags – it was like background noise at this point.

His dark eyes scanned all of them – none seemed inherently dangerous – and he was going to see the most volatile and nasty of the criminals they had come across in a long time.  The letters he exchanged with Aleron were enough to let him know that it was going to be difficult to extract information, but there was information he could glean, especially if it did have connection to the actions of ten years ago and the leaders and followers that took part in that sorry excuse for a cause. 

Tawse was the first one he thought of when he read to look into Death Eater youth at the time, and his establishment, the Black Chimera was a known hang-out for anyone who had been in Akzaban and shared his less than warm and fuzzy sentiments about the rest of the population.  Archer was willing to venture there, as Ray did it all of the time, and see what he could gather.  His suspicions were routed in this alley, but it wasn’t supported by any strong evidence.

The street urchin had given him little to go on, but he had been able to rule out Bourgin’s merchandise as well as a few of the other shops, meaning he had the area narrowed and not supported by any legitimate establishment (as of yet).  It was a small movement, he gathered, given that the two attacks with the signature were spread apart and clearly planned – they were being careful.  That did not help Archer, of course, as he was looking for the trips in their steps, but they were careful to avoid all cracks and bumps so far. 

Pushing the door open of the Chimera, Archer sighed, looking around.  Not the most welcoming establishment, and judging from the way the few clients who were in the place looked at him, it wasn’t going to be a party for the remainder of his visit. He kept his right hand close to his hip, in case he had to draw, and looked around – no immediate signs of the strange marking he was looking for.  “Tawse around?” he asked gruffly to just about anyone who would listen – granted the answers he got were less than admirable or polite - he snorted, points for creativity to the guy with the eye-patch in the corner. 

He waited for Tawse to appear, like some kind of apparition of hairy horror - though, at the moment, the only thing that compared to the burly thing in size and amount of fuzz was the large, what appeared to be a mastiff, staring at him from a spot on the floor.  Huh... and he had always been skeptical of the idea that dogs resembled their owners... not anymore.

So far, it was shaping up to be a quiet, calm, lazy Wednesday afternoon.  While everything was, more or less, ready for the evening shift, the Black Chimaera wasn't due to open its doors for a couple hours. The pub's usual loiterers had shuffled in several hours earlier and were scattered at the various tables.  Most were working their way through decks of cards, slowly milking a drink or a combination of the two.  It was an odd and scruffy assortment of blokes - usually comprising of Azkaban's most recent releases.  Scrawny, undernourished-looking wizards (or, occasionally, witches) who were still too 'raw' from Azkaban to have any hopes of getting a job.  Or, wandering Diagon without harassment. 

In other words, the fresh, unemployable ex-Azzies who had nowhere else to go.  With most of them looking for some scapegoat to blame their current miserable existences on, and the abundance of alcohol, they were easy WBA recruits. 

Sacked out like a hundred and eighty pound bag of potatoes, Seamus was sprawled in front of the fire, his tail and toes twitching slightly in his sleep.  Luckily for Briggs, Seamus made a slow, but eventual, recovery from his exploding runespoor venom.  His height had put the poor dog's head at the just the right height to receive a hearty face-full of venom, which had cost him his eyes.  Somehow, the mutt managed to survive and, aside from the pupil-less and slightly vacant expression, still seemed to manage well enough without them. 

Cinaed was tucked into a table in the back corner of the pub room, relaxing with a brown paper cigarette as he and three fellow ex-Azzies settled into another round of cards.  While he was well-aware of the man's entrance, Cinaed left it to Seamus to be the first (and, initially, the only) one to acknowledge the stranger's arrival.  The man was an auror - Cinaed was certain of it.  He didn't know his name, but he had seen his mug enough times around Level II at the Ministry to know he was at least associated with the Aurors - if not an Auror himself. 

The Auror asked for him and, at still, no one in the pub acknowledged him.  Other than Seamus, who lifted his head and stared, eyelessly, in the man's direction and, finally, deciding the potential for attention was worth the effort involved, he lumbered to his feet to approach the man. 

"Piss off," Cinaed said, from his seat in the corner when it was clear the man wasn't getting the picture on his own.  "You've no business here."

Dilly had just finished putting away the lunch dishes after washing them; and as she had a soft spot for Seamus, she brought him a plate of scraps. She had cried all night when she thought he might die, but she might have known the mutt was like his human, too tough to be done in by...well...whatever that godawful stuff was. People whispered about it behind their hands whenever she was around. No doubt they thought it was too nasty to talk about in front of a little kid. Which in this crowd must be really nasty...

The mastiff was asleep, toes and tail twitching as he dreamed about...whatever dogs dream about. However a dog's nose never fully falls asleep and there was a large if overdone chunk of roast beef on the plate. She thought she saw his nose twitch too. But before she could deliver the plate Seamus yawned, stretched and walked over to a man who came in while she was in the kichen.

"Hey there you old beast," said Dilly, following the dog and sitting on the floor to scratch his ears. She set the plate down in front of him and he all but inhaled it, wiping it clean with his tongue afterwards. It occured to Dilly to wonder why they would ever need a dishwasher with Seamus around...

She was vaguely aware that Cin was telling someone to piss off. That was so commonplace that she thought little of it, but then it came to her that he might mean the new arrival. Just to be on the safe side she glanced up, out of the corner of her eye, to see who it was.

She stiffened, eyes widening before she could stop herself.   Holy crap, it's the copper...

The overwhelming silence of the pub upon first entry was no surprise.  Cons froze up around enforcement, it was natural they’d keep their dirty yaps shut and this place was even more closed off than it had been before, especially after the runespoor venom response . Archer had little experience with the Runespoor thing, it had never been his area of expertise, or major investigative focus, so he wasn’t here for that, but he assumed that the scumbags hanging around here had reason to clam-up, whoever was involved wasn’t going to give themselves up and none of the others would give them up either – criminals had a funny way of protecting one another. 

In fact, the only greeting he received was from the dog.  Lumbering over, the dog appeared to be leading quite heavily with his nose and when Archer looked down, he realized the brutish mastiff was probably unable to see anything, heavy burns to the eye area… no surprises, considering, and he reached down to let the dog smell his hand – not to startle him.  The jaws of such a thing could probably do a good amount of damage, if provoked. 

Very much like his owner, Archer noted as a man in the corner voiced his opinion louder than the rest of them. His greeting, however, from one Tawse, was nothing new or unexpected and Archer turned toward him and his comrades with an expression that was not amused.  He ran his head over the head of the beast and let a deep breath out of his nose – he wasn’t perturbed or upset, quite the contrary.  He might have even found it slightly funny. 

“No need to be so hospitable, Tawse.  Just following up on our dear victim.”  He figured this was as good an excuse as any and turned his eyes to look around the place, trying to find any sign of the real reason he was here. 

There was not obvious sign, though the place was dark – lots of nooks and crannies to check – there were people around, anyone could be looked at for a sign.  Getting by Tawse and all the goons in the place was the really hard part.  Of course, as his eyes passed over the pub, he stopped, immediately distracted.  There was a small child, perched on the floor – he immediately recognized her. 

His attention turned back toward Tawse in his corner seat, then the girl on the floor again.  He approached the child, crouching down – he could hear the padding of large feet and nails clicking on the solid floor.  “What are you doing in here, kid?” he asked in a low voice, glancing around, “You crazy or something?”

The Ministry rat wasn't getting the picture.  Which was strange - as annoying as those Aurors tended to be, Cinaed had always assumed they had some intelligence.  But, Cinaed was certain he'd made his intentions and meaning quite clear.  The Rat wasn't welcome here. 

Well, if this fellow was ignored long enough, eventually he'd bugger off.  At least, that was the tactic Cinaed would attempt to use next.  He picked up his hand of cards, took a deep breath off his cigarette before turning to his fellow card players.  "Twenty sickles," he offered, tossing the coins to the center of the table.  Mannie groaned and tossed his cards on the table.  "I'd just end up giving you any dough I ended up winning, anyway," the old ex-Azzie muttered as an excuse for not anteing up. 

"Poor bloke.  I could offer you a loan," Cinaed offered with a laugh, glancing up to watch the little street urchin, Dilly, followed the dog towards the Auror.  Kids and dogs - bloody useful, but a bloody waste sometimes, too.  "Aren't there sheets needing washing?" Cinaed barked at Dilly as he sensed it would probably be for the best to not have the child linger around the Auror. 

Cinaed didn't buy the man's excuse for a moment.  Since when did the Ministry care about dogs - let alone dogs owned by him?  "They couldn't save his eyes, but he's alive," Cinaed muttered.  Those had been tense moments - it had been touch and go for days and finding a magizoologist willing to take his business hadn't been easy.  All, of course, which was ultimately the Ministry's fault. 

"What do you need?"  Cinaed asked, impatiently, tossing his cards on the table and pushing himself to his feet as the Auror addressed the girl.  Intent on shooing the child and the dog away, he approached the trio.

Dilly noticed that the dog seemed to like Archer which was not much of a surprise. Seamus liked anyone who would give him pets and an ear scratch or belly rub.

On the other hand she liked Archer herself, though it would certainly not do for anyone here to realize that...

He was looking around the pub as if hoping to see somebody in particular. Or...maybe something. Dilly remembered he’d asked her about a symbol. She knew she’d seen it somewhere in the Alley, but Merlin knows where. Dilly assumed it was some sort of rune.  A number of shops both here and in the supposedly more respectable Diagon Alley used runes either in their signs or on their doors, for good luck. But of course a rune that attracted the attention of an Auror was probably not a good-luck charm.

”Aren't there sheets needing washing?" 

“Already done ‘em,” said Dilly without looking up from the dog, who yes, was sprawled on his back for a belly rub. “Towels too,” she added. “And mopped and waxed. I even cleaned up that spill on the carpet in the conference room.” No one ever told her not to mention there was a conference room, so she thought nothing of it. A conference room was just a conference room...

Dilly’s heart sank as she heard the Auror and Cin approaching her from opposite directions.

“What are you doing in here, kid? You crazy or something?”

If Dilly had one preponderant ability, it was brazening things out. Looking up at Archer she said in her flat Cockney drawl, “Ain’t it me, should be asking you that question?”

Archer had clearly heard enough of what this kid was doing here.  Child labor, no matter what part of society it was in – muggle or magic – didn’t have a place, and from the sounds of it, Dilly Morris was doing quite a lot of labor in this forsaken hole.  He had come here in search of the insignia, the odd mark that was located at several crime scenes and seemed to have some symbolic meaning, even if only touted by idiots and criminals in a sleazy bar, but he was not seeing any sign of it here. 

Well, he did not see any visible signs anyway.  The secretiveness was not unexpected, but very oppressive.  The people in the pub, at least any other pub he passed through on Knockturn rounds, ignored him, but did not openly express hatred toward him.  Cinead was a special case, of course, and was expected to make the odd comment or two, but the others?  Archer had always come to the understanding that he wasn’t to bother them if they weren’t bothering him – or anyone else.  The practical advice he received from the analyst friend of Dreogan’s led him here, so he had to deal with it. 

Dilly did not, however.  The kid was a spitfire and could, he was sure, manage herself, but being taken advantage of by a creep was not on his list of things to let happen to a kid.  Not only that, but he could find a hundred better places to put her than this dump.  Depending on how long she had been there, she might have some valuable information too – doubly important to get her out from under the scumbag’s hairy nose and somewhere he could get the information he needed.
 
It appeared that he had all he needed to remove the child anyway.  No guardian and being forced to labor, probably for no wages.  She did a lot – from washing dishes to cleaning out conference rooms?  What the hell was a conference room doing in a pub?  He frowned, that seemed fairly suspicious.  He looked at Cinead then to Dilly, who boldly questioned him.

His eyebrows shot up and he shook his head at her, the girl had some spark to her, but that wasn’t going to fix the problem here.  It was with the owner of the establishment and Archer stood between the girl and dog and the sasquatch, just to make sure things didn’t get dirty.  He would remember that conference room comment, and he was fairly sure Tawse would as well. “I was just about to leave, actually, but now we have a slight problem.  Children aren’t allowed in bars, Tawse, much less to work in them.  I'm removing the child from the premises and writing you up for a terms of employment violation."

The dog liked everybody - always had.  Which, was probably why the little pup had bothered following Cinaed home that one night a couple years ago.  Had the dog had any discerning tastes, he would have chosen someone else.  Cinaed had secretly hoped the runespoor venom incident might have made him at least slightly weary of strangers, but it hadn't.  He still sought attention from strangers just as often.  He just walked into them more, now. 

The girl quipped back, declaring her work complete and, perhaps, consciously avoiding the real point Cinaed was trying to make.  No loitering with strangers - it seemed simple enough.  Likely, the girl was purposefully ignoring it. 

"Then, perhaps, now would be the time to go find something to do," Cinaed added, quietly, in a manner that might resemble 'calm.'  But, the auror was already taking objections to the kid's presence. 

Cinaed narrowed his eyes at Dilly before looking at the Auror.  "We have no problem," he insisted.  "I caught this kid stealing from me and my clients.  Rather than let the customer extract payment from her-"  How the fellow planned to do so were details this bloke didn't need.  After all, the point was Cinaed had prevented any bloodletting.  "- I let her work off her debts.  Yeah, she's got to do a few choirs," Which, didn't every kid have to?  "But, she's fed, has someplace to sleep and there's few foolish enough to touch a hair on her head in this alley. But, yes, this is the sort of thing the Ministry would take objection to.  You'd rather I just kicked her back out on the streets in the hopes that some hag didn't take an interest in her?" 

He was offended by the fellow's inability to see any philanthropy in these arrangements.  And, so, after all of that, the Ministry was taking the street urchin.  Cinaed looked down at Dilly, his nose wrinkled in annoyance before waving his hand dismissively in the kid's general direction.  "Whatever.  Fine, take her and piss off.  Good riddance.  Enjoy being on your own out there, again, kid."  He turned and started back towards the table, his annoyance quite prominent in his face.

Dilly watched Cin stalk away, gnawing her lip. Yes...she’d been twitting him as was normal in their interactions, but she didn’t mean anything by it. Hell, she hadn’t even known there was such a thing as child labor laws. And now she worried that she'd hurt Cin’s feelings, though if she had of course he’d never admit it. And yes, in his way he’d been kind to her.

She looked from him to Archer and then back to the dog, wondering what she was supposed to do now. If Archer pulled her out of here like it seemed he was going to, where would she end up? Back in Saint Ursula’s? She could just imagine what would happen if she got her Hogwarts letter there. The nuns would lock her in the attic and say she was possessed, like that kid in The Exorcist. She’d be lucky if they let her out before she was thirty...

 Standing, with her hand on her hips and her feet planted apart, she glared at both Cin and Archer. “Who says I’m going anywhere?”

Archer did not enjoy distractions from what he was supposed to be doing.  He was supposed to be making headway in the case he was assigned to, not taking care of kids in a seedy bar.  But, one could not control what one was going to have to deal with, and Archer Radley wasn’t going to let the girl be treated like slave labor – despite what Tawse was saying. 

He explained himself well enough – the intention, from someone else, might have been even considered a blessing.  The girl, in this case, was being taken advantage of with the sheer amount of things she was doing – cleaning carpets, waxing, whatever – they were not the picking up and dusting that a normal child had to do for chores.  “You’re such a saint, Tawse.  When are you being canonized?”  he replied with a caustic edge to his voice.
 
For once, he was glad his mother had an archaic interest in religious affairs.  He, himself, was not particularly religious, though would go with her if she asked.  Sometimes, when he saw certain things, he didn’t know how it was possible to believe in anything after that. Then, there were times he practically got down on his knees himself.  This was one of those ambivalent moments where he knew he had to do something but desperately wished he was doing something else. 

In the recent past, nothing good had come out of this place, and he was just not in the mood for a fight – especially with a munchkin.  Raising his eyebrows at the squirt, he sighed.  “I say you’re going,” he replied flatly.  “C’mon, this place isn’t suitable for a kid.”  He'd try the talking thing first... if that didn't work - well, he had two younger brothers and a slew of cousins... most of whom had children... this wouldn't be much harder than any family reunion...

After slumping into his seat, Cinaed picked up his hand of cards and leafed through them.  He had no desire for any fanfare or even a brief farewell.  If the kid wanted to go, Cinaed couldn't care less.  Really, he couldn't.  He'd hire new help and they wouldn't have some stinky, meddling kid sleeping in the kitchen, anymore.  A win-win all around. 

"It's your turn," Cinaed growled at Mannie who seemed to be watching the kid and the Auror with a strange look of confusion.  Despite the reminder, Mannie continued to watch the two, his cards forgotten on the table. 

"She's leaving?" Mannie asked, glancing at Cinaed.  Why this news seemed to be baffling the older fellow so much, Cinaed didn't have a clue.  Perhaps, despite the man's grumpy and detached demeanor he'd grown accustomed to the girl's presence.  Whatever.  It was no big loss.  "What if she don't want to go?" Mannie pushed himself to his feet as the girl defiantly rooted herself in place.  Cinaed followed suit, his protectiveness of the girl growing, slightly.  Sure, he might not be the best parental material, but that didn't mean he was indifferent.

Then, the Auror chose to mock Cinaed's intentions.  "You fecking bastard!" Cinaed growled as he took several menacing steps towards the Auror.  But, almost as quickly, he caught himself, stopping before he was able to do anything drastic.  Who the hell did he think he was?  He had no choice but to deal with the Ministry's forced visits; he shouldn't have to deal with them treating him with so little respect.  Not in his own bar.

"Do whatever you need to then get the hell out," Cinaed demanded, gesturing towards the girl and then the door.  "You're not welcome here." There was a quiet scraping sound as several chairs were shoved back from tables and a handful of figures rose to their feet.