2: 04 PM



The North Sea crashed relentlessly against the jarring cliffs of Scotland’s eastern shore. Moisture clung to the brisk October air shrouding the coastline in a lolling mist and the overcast sky was a bleak hope that the sun would be making an appearance. Against the drear and gloom, a cottage stood on the green, humble yet cheerful and overall unassuming.  No one would suspect that it once housed a death eater whom had rotten away in the wizarding prison of Azkaban. Nor that the quaint residence accommodated a reputable family of purists. Nor that it currently was the safe house of a former convict, possibly a relapsed convict – which still remained to be seen.

A petite woman stood on a hill overlooking the cottage from where she had emerged out of thin air. Her appearance was not welcomed with the familiar skull-racking pressure that heralded all of her apparition attempts. Rather, the more appreciable twist and swirl of portkey travel as the world rematerialized. The ordinary galleon tucked into her boot had been easier to obtain than she had initially predicted but had still come with its fair share of paperwork. It was not regulation; apparition was remarkably simpler and required less yellow tape. Transporting from London from Montrose would be potentially fatal for the meager witch and since the Ministry could not convince her out of this display of youthful bravo it could at least supply a safe journey.

The sea breeze rustled the red cloak settled about her shoulders as the Auror rested on her haunches, brushing the ground before her with a silent inquisition. There was nothing particular about the dirt but it felt… ominous. The very air had a residue to it, almost the way a bad taste lingered in the back of one’s mouth even after the foul source was gone. She investigated a little longer, turning over a handful of rocks until she found the culprit. Delicately built fingers overturned a stone smoother and darker than the others and discovered the worn, lifeless rune drawn on the bottom. Defunct. Yet the sinister warning the active protection ward would have entailed still loitered, even after almost thirty years.

Tamis Raynor straightened brushing her hands together to remove accumulated particles of dirt, gray eyes intent on the seaside cottage. There was something… unnerving about it. Déjà Vu at its finest. She was quite certain she had never been to the town of Scurdie Ness or its surrounding area. Yet, this all felt peculiarly… memorable. The sentiment did not improve as she drew closer and details became more prevalent. She had not embarked on a jovial adventure and had arrived already grim and resolute. But as she approached the door grim turned to dread.

It was more than dangerous coming alone. She could at least be numbered four-to-one, even in Cináed Tawse was no longer in possession of a wand. It was a premeditated venture, but she had purposely kept Archer out of the loop on it. Technically, she was still under protection. Technically, he should have been. But technicality was not practical in this situation. She needed to be successful and her best chances were solo. Which was not saying much. She would deal with the repercussions later. 

Finally, her knuckles came in contact with the door, rapping assertively.

“Aurors Office!” She called through the obstruction, managing to make her tone carry while remaining courteous. “A word, if you would.”

A hunch told her the knock and announcement had been purely ceremonial. It was difficult to sneak up on a wizarding residence.

Indeed.  Not only had the Auror's approach not gone unnoticed, I also hadn't been unexpected.  All three of the house's current residents had been waiting for it.  Apparitions weren't traceable but the Tawse residence had found its way on the list of places of Ministry interest almost three decades back.  It was a given the Department of Magical Law Enforcement would come searching for Cinaed Tawse there - or information about his current whereabouts. 

It was for that very reason Cinaed had intended to leave the moment Seamus' fate seemed certain - one way of the other.  He'd been fully prepared to go into hiding until his mother and sister had convinced him, quite desperately, that to do so would be as good as admitting guilt.  His mother, Anna, had even gone as far as to try and talk Cinaed into turning himself in at the Ministry - she'd been certain the whole situation was just one big misunderstanding and, once things were clarified, the Ministry would believe Cinaed meant no ill harm. 

Cinaed had, of course, refused.  There was absolutely no way he was going to bring the battle onto the enemy's home turf when he was entirely outnumbered and unarmed.  If they decided to lock him up, there'd be little he could do to prevent it.  He was not going to roll over and submit.

They knew the Ministry would come.  The only question was when and in what capacity.  That remained a mystery until the petite Auror was standing on their front stoop, knocking, quite obviously alone.

From his first hearings over a decade ago, it had been in Tamis Raynor's small, refined hands that Cinaed's fate and freedom had lay.  There was no trace of affection or care for the woman - if given the chance, there was no question Cinaed would seek to destroy her in every capacity.  A sentiment for which there was, no doubt, a decent dose of reciprocity.  Their exchanges were never, exactly, pleasant but it was she he sat across from in those bare interrogation rooms on a regular basis.  Outside of family, Cinaed didn't have any other relationships that came even close to having lasted as long.  He knew what to expect from her, there was - at least - a certain degree of familiarity.  Even if purely out of necessity, Cinaed had, to some degree, come to trust the woman. 

The door to the bedroom at the top of the stairs remained open - as did the bedroom window.  He could overhear the conversation below and gauge its relatively safety before committing himself to partaking.  If it was clear the Auror was here to arrest him, Cinaed could shift and fly out the window before the woman even knew he was there. 

Maddie Tawse stood at the base of the stairs as Anna pulled the door open and stood back to allow the Auror inside.  The older woman regarded Tamis Raynor with a brief moment of curiosity before nodding her head. 

"How can we help you," she asked, casually if coolly. 

As she waited for a response, she had to keep resisting the urge of letting her eyes from wandering. The temptation to investigating this familiar but not residence was overwhelming. She kept them locked on the smooth wooden panel, the late October chill of the ocean breeze snuck past her scarlet cloak. Resisting the chill, the wind shifted the outer garment revealing her hand resting would-be casually on her left hip, ready to draw the wand holstered there should the need arise. It was not a common fact that many knew about her, unless they had dueled her, as she wrote with her right hand.

During the 2004 Azkaban Uprising, a former Death Eater had taken out her right arm. Her ambidextrous abilities had been her saving grace and whilst she regained full function of the limb she still could not get her wand to work properly with it. Residue dark magic, she supposed. At least she had not ended up like her mentor. The irony would have been unbearable. That had been the year she had been promoted to Head of the Auror Office. And that Cináed Tawse had been released from Azkaban.

 The door opened, revealing some of the interior beyond it. The miniscule Auror caught a quick glance of a figure at the foot of a staircase before the Matron filled the threshold, blocking her vantage point. The build had been far too slight to be a man, let alone Tawse.

Redundantly, Raynor held up her badge with her right hand as if there could have been any doubt about what had showed up on their doorstep. The woman, presumably Anna Tawse the widower, most certainly did not seem surprised to see her. There had been a brief flash of inquisitiveness across her visage but there had not been any sign of astonishment. One did not have to be Rowena Ravenclaw to realize the Ministry was going to come to their door.

It did, however, confirm that her parolee had, at the very least, contacted his family. There had not been an announcement in the paper about his little escapade beyond that the Chimaera had been the location of the explosion. And the two responsible already revealed as in custody. The only way this woman could have anticipated an Auror on her stoop was if her son had told her to expect one.

Surprisingly, the matron stepped back, granting her permission to enter. She had expected more resistance than that. Suddenly wary, wondering if she was walking into a trap, Tamis flipped her badge closed and stowed back from wince it came, shifting past Mrs. Tawse.

Now, she could not help her eyes from wandering. They took in everything visible, counting entry ways and noting all possible exits on instinct. But they also took in other things. That familiarity was surging.
The matron spoke to her again, drawing her back, and Tamis turned back to her, though her hand remained on her left hip, analyzing the woman much closer. Anna Finlay. That had been the maiden name Cináed had given his mother.  She searched her face; looking for distinct features she had no hope of remembering. And would not find, she reminded herself.  It was not possible.

“I need to speak with your son, Cináed Tawse. It is in his best interest that I do. Is he around?” She asked casually, as if unaware of the cool regard the woman was holding her with. As if she did not notice the younger woman hovering by the staircase, almost guarding it.

Age and four decades of living along the edge of the North Sea were etched into the hands and face of Anna Tawse, serving to amplify the woman's expression of presence and formidable confidence.  Steel grey eyes settled on the young Auror unwaveringly, the crows feet at the corners of her eyes deepening as they narrowed with curiosity and disapproval.  Her straight, greying, dark-blond hair fell around her shoulders, its full length largely concealed by the wool shawl drawn around her shoulders. 

Recognition and acceptance might not have come to the young woman in the bright red robes but Anna knew exactly who it was that entered the Tawse residence.  The woman's name alone would have been sufficient to jog Anna's memory even if Tamis Raynor's presence in their life would have ended those many years ago.  Tamis Raynor had been one of the very first decisions Anna Tawse had made without the guidance or approval of her husband.  It was probably only on account of her husbands incarceration that circumstances were allowed to play out the way they had - Anna doubted Fionn would have ever agreed.  His blood hadn't been involved; there was little reason for him to have felt sympathy.  For his sack, he'd been long dead before the full extent of the young Auror's betrayal had become apparent - Anna had long ago decided it was probably best that Cinaed not be enlightened. 

"In his best interest?"  Maddie Tawse repeated, the suspicion heavy in her voice.  "You do mean in the Ministry's-"  Anna Tawse glanced in Maddie's direction, bringing an immediate end to the younger woman's accusations.  There were few fans of the Ministry in the Tawse household; over the years the Ministry had given them little reason to demonstrate much loyalty. 

The older woman turned back towards Raynor and dipped her head slightly.  "Cinaed is around," Anna confirmed.  "He is willing to speak with you but we would all like some reassurance that you are not simply here to arrest him.  I've already watched the Ministry kill my husband; I don't intend to let them kill my son." 

"Would you like some tea," the older woman half-asked, half-suggested as she walked way down the hall towards a large joint kitchen and dining room.  Seamus was flopped out in a deep sleep on a large dog bed in front of the hearth, his large, heavily-bruised eyelids permanently closed over empty sockets. 

Piercing gray eyes bore into Tamis Raynor’s back as she entered the abode and the weight of that gaze did not go unnoticed.  Mother figures always made the petite witch secretly uncomfortable. There was always an air of subtle strength about them, though, admittedly, Anna Tawse’s aura lacked the subtlety. It was a presence that spoke of experience and determination, having survived child rearing and its hardships and the willingness to do whatever necessary to protect those children. She was facing all of those factors here, but amplified. Anna Tawse had survived two Wizarding wars, the first of which had claimed her husband and the second of which had claimed her son. The pain and perseverance it cost was written across the woman’s face as obviously as seaside effects were.

Dealing with a murderer was one ordeal. Dealing with the wife and mother of a murderer was all together different – possibly even more dangerous.

Having lacked a mother for the majority of her childhood, Raynor did not know how to respond to that maternal aura. In many ways she felt threatened by it. All memory of Reseda Raynor were those of a young woman, younger if fact than Tamis was now. With old pictures as aides, Tamis knew that she looked something of what Reseda would have if her mother had been given the chance to reach her thirties. She would have had lighter hair and been about four inches taller, but all of her other features were near identical; eyes, fair complexion, facial structure… the resemblance was apparent.

The most unnerving factor about the situation, was, if Reseda Raynor had lived out her life, she would also bear similarities to Anna Tawse. The evidence was all there and Tamis Raynor was defiantly ignoring it. The irony would be too great to bear… and there were more present concerns at hand. As the woman standing at the base of the stairs was kind enough to remind her.

“For once, those interests may coincide,” she replied with patience and neutrality if not understanding. The hostility was thick enough that it left little room for misconception. She had not been expecting a warm reception and they were in no hurry to disappoint her.

Gray eyes met gray eyes and Tamis shot a quick glance back at the elder woman as Anna stemmed the potential argument. Trying to convince this woman that her husband had killed himself would have been futile. Fionn Tawse had written his sentence when he joined arms with the Death Eaters and helped claim the lives of countless innocents. The Ministry had not compelled him to make those choices and the law had laid down the consequences for those choices. Explaining that her son was little better – possibly worse – would not fare well for compliance, either. Anna Tawse would not wish to her the men in her family as the ones in the wrong; it was easier for her to blame the system. And Tamis Raynor had long given up on the impossible task of altering the opinions of others. Instead she let the comment wash over her.

“If my intentions were to arrest him I would have brought more support,” the very alone and outnumbered Auror pointed out.

Hand still propped on her wand hip, she kept her back to the corner of the room so that she could keep both other women in her line of sight. At least she had confirmation that Cináed was here – and they had not lied about it. Either that or they were distracting her while he escaped or keeping her from his true location. She did not know. Yet, she kept getting a pulling urge to trust Anna Tawse – damn maternal aura. That was the last person she should be trusting.

“No. Thank you,” she firmly turned down the offer-that-was-not. Merlin knew what could potentially be slipped into it. Unperturbed, Anna continued toward the kitchen. Trying to quell a flash of impatience, the Auror tailed her, but not far enough to lose sight of the woman still at the foot of the stairs. It left her at the mouth of the hallway. “Time is somewhat of the essence.”

Seamus answered her with a dog-like snore. The true victim of the fourteenth of October and one the Aurors had shamelessly used in order to get their human one back. Did not make her words anyless true.  Especially not for Tamis. The Aurors Office was no doubt having itself a nice little fit right about now.

Unaware of, or perhaps just unconcerned with, the discomfort Anna's intense scrutiny was causing the younger witch, Anna's gaze neither faltered nor softened.  Even when the young Auror theorized that the Tawse family and the Ministry shared similar interests.  A foreign enough concept to warrant distrust in its own absurdity.  But, Anna Tawse was quite familiar with how negotiations with the Ministry went.  If they could be called negotiations.  The Ministry usually let the other party say a word or two before making a decision; it was those two words that apparently changed the rulings of a dictator to a negotiation. 

"We shall see."  Anna seemed to make no notice of the Auror's refusal of tea and the dark, steaming liquid into three simple, white porcelain teacups.  She nodded to the younger woman still standing at the base of the stair.  Despite having clearly seen the unspoken directive, Maddie hesitated, her gaze lingering, suspiciously, on Raynor.  It wasn't until the eldest Tawse cleared her throat that Maddie turned and disappeared up the stairs. 

Somewhere overhead, a door clicked shut and murmured voices could be heard through the ceiling overhead.  "You're looking well," Anna offered, without warning or explanation moments after the door upstairs had closed.  "And, goodness knows you've drunk enough cups of tea from this kitchen.  But, I suppose things have changed since then."  Over time, politics had, certainly, come to overshadow family ties. 

For a moment, the murmurings seeping through the wooden ceiling increased in intensity and volume before becoming nearly inaudible.

“We shall,” the Auror agreed with near the same implication. She did not have any intentions of arresting Cináed Tawse but that did not mean it was eliminated as a possibility. By the letter of the law, she had him. The moment his fingers curled around a wand she had been given all the grounds she needed to throw his arse back into Azkaban. Yet, it had been Raynor that encouraged Margaret Groust not to press charges and Raynor that had searched for “exceptional circumstances.” She had her reasons. And none of them included any affection for the man.

Arching an eyebrow, Tamis meet the gaze of the younger Tawse woman without waving, perhaps even with a subtle challenging. The suspicion was well warranted if not just. Yet, the Auror found it ironic. She did not know if she was looking at the younger or older of the two Tawse sisters, nor could she recall their respective names, but distant memory recalled little feet navigating the rocky shores with giggles lost in the seaside wind. There was no warmth associated with the recollection as she followed the woman with her eyes as she mounted the stairs, eyes drifting up to the ceiling as if she could miraculously peer through the floors.

Hand never leaving her hip, she glanced back at Anna and away again. The words were enough confirmation, both to the woman’s identity and the mutual understanding of who the other was. There was far too much irony in this situation and it was amplifying.

“Kind of you to take notice,” was the stiff reply to her Aunt’s observation. After her parents died, the guardianship of Tamis Raynor had fallen to her mother’s sister. How long had she lived in this house? A year. Maybe two. Just long enough for a six year to find some normalcy before being ripped from it again. The adult knew she had been taken from Anna Tawse’s care. That the courts had ordered the woman not to contact her. The child had not understood. To the child, she had been abandoned by the last of her surviving relative and then tossed into a boarding home. Understanding and resentment had come later.

Whatever was passing upstairs reached a heated climax and her gaze rested on the ceiling once again, even after it had grown quiet, waiting for the return of one set of feet or two.

 “Have things changed?” she challenged the older woman. Then it had been a criminal husband that had created their rift. A man that had aligned himself with a group of radicals responsible for the murder of the woman’s own sister. Now it was a criminal son. One whose allegiances were vastly unknown other than that they did not lie with the Ministry. The opposite, in fact. Raynor saw only similarities.

“He does not know,” she finally said, still ignoring the tea. It was not a question. After all, Tamis had not known until approximately ten minutes ago. She wished she could continue to share the ignorance.

Wrinkle-bordered, gray eyes remained fixed on the younger woman as the eldest Tawse lifted her teacup to her lips and took a sip.  How long ago had it been?  Over twenty-five years?  Her husband already locked away in Azkaban, Anna Tawse had made her first major executive decision as an independent woman and had opened her door to her niece.  Maddie, Anna's eldest daughter was only a year younger than Tamis and, there had been a time in the past when both had been happy playmates.  Though the topic was rarely broached, Maddie still claimed to remember those days well enough.  Athalia, Anna's middle child, had still been a baby at the time and, of course, remembered nothing of those couple years. 

Anna Tawse had been pregnant with Cinaed at the time.  He'd been born into the fatherless house sometime during Tamis' first year with the Tawses.  Anna had been a single mother with a newborn babe, three girls under seven and, with a husband in Azkaban, no prospects for employment.  She'd made ends meet the best she could.  By being frugal, she'd managed to make the remaining family savings last for most of that time but being overwhelmed was a simple given.  Anna had always allowed herself to assume that had been the primary reason the Ministry had pulled Tamis from their house.  Anna Tawse had never approved of Tamis' choices in life but she'd always recognized the power of family.  Who could you count on to forgive you if not family? 

Like most spouses caught in the frays of war, Anna had never been political herself.  She'd merely fallen in love with a politically motivated man.  And, this was where she found herself.

"You have," Anna answered, simply, her gaze softening a moment later as she took another sip of tea.  "But, that's to be expected.  I'm sure." 

Anna shook her head, offering a quiet, "No," in confirmation of Anna's assumption about the time a door creaked open overhead and two sets of footsteps crossed the floor overhead.  Cinaed led the way down the stairs, Maddie a few steps above him.  He wore clean though obviously worn and outdated clothing - the result of not being able to return to his home and making do with the pieces of clothing that still lingered in the house.  Suspicion was etched deeply across the man's face and dark circles shadowed his eyes - he hadn't had a good night's sleep since he'd started keeping an ear out for the sound of approaching aurors all night long. 

He lifted his hands - both - making sure Raynor had ample opportunity to see them and see they were empty.  He kept them raised and moved slowly across the hall, taking great care to make no sudden moves as he moved past Raynor into the kitchen.  Seamus lifted his heavily bruised head slowly, his large tail sweeping across the floor.  Taking care to avoid any sore spots, Cinaed reached down to run a hand over the dog's shoulder.  "I read you arrested Briggs and Sellaphix."  He straightened up, again, and leaned against the hearth, the warmth of the fire against his back.  And, the kitchen door conveniently on his right. 

"And, I didn't do anything to that girl. Nor with that wand."  Except apparate - but that was entirely out of self-defense.  That was entirely different. 

You have. Those words should not have stung, but they did. She had learned a while ago that dwelling on the ‘what ifs’ of the past were not healthy and unproductive. ‘What if I had not been separated from Aunt Anna’ had come to mind almost as often as ‘What if my father had not refused You-Know-Who’ as a teenager. One could not miss what one could not remember having. In that respect, losing her family at a young age had been a blessing. She could recall little details of her parents, select memories, but nothing major. But she had reflected on the ‘What ifs’. Now, the question came to mind with a sense of horror.

Tamis always knew that if she had grown up under the influence of her family, she might have more strongly sympathized with purist idealism. The Raynors had been tolerant but exclusive of the ‘lesser’ blood. A wizard was a wizard had deserved recognition but at the same time, the true bloodlines had to be maintained for the perseverance of magic. But the influence of the Tawse household? The simple idea of who she could have become, they type of personal she could have that easily evolved into frightened her more than she was willing to admit.

She had never considered that the hardships in her life may have saved her. That did not make the gentle disappointment hurt any less. Jaw tightening, the Auror forced her gaze back on the elder woman and held it steady, “I do not consider that a negative.”

Confirmation had, any further response Raynor might have offered died on her tongue as Tawse descended the stairs, hands held up in surrender.  A sickening lurch rocked her stomach and thickened her throat as she considered the hairy abomination of a man. All these years of suspicion and careful watching and she was related to him. She had known him as an infant, if briefly. Swallowing heavily, she forced that waver on her willpower aside, refusing to look in Anna’s direction again, gray eyes following the woman’s son – her cousin – instead.

Those eyes shifted down to the sightless dog before back up at the man. “Arresting perpetrators of the law is in our job description. A witness statement would be appreciated,” she replied to his comments about the press release – and confirmed that they did not consider him as a suspect in regards to the Runespoor Venom. “Your pub took considerable damage. I hope you had insurance.” It would be well deserved if he did not.

She might not be here to actually arrest him and he may not have any relation to the Runespoor Smuggling, but Raynor was not going to let him try and profess innocence. One of her eyebrows rose, “You held a woman forcefully against her will and then abducted her. Simple possession of a wand put you in direct violation of your parole.”

The man standing with his back to the warmth of the hearth fire was as oblivious to the awkward exchange that had transpired between the younger and older woman as he was to the possibility that his excursion with that Groust woman might have been even slightly traumatizing to her.  His mother's expression had grown flat and impassive - an expression she'd perfected over years of playing the strong, solid wife- and mother-figure. 

True to his sister's words, it appeared Raynor was there alone unless there were reserves somewhere out on the grounds somewhere.  It was a gutsy and, if he allowed himself to admit, admirable gesture on the woman's part.  Or an exceedingly foolish one.  At least, Cinaed was relieved he'd decided against taking his sister's wand when she'd offered it to him upstairs. 

The distrust and suspicion never left his features as he watched the woman though, for a brief moment, incredulousness flickered behind his eyes.  She was wanting a witness statement from him?  Of course, that would require listening to and believing him.  In other words, this was likely to be a nice big waste of his time.  His shoulders inched up in an indifferent shrug that was, more than likely, entirely hidden by his mane of hair.  He gave no verbal response at first, perfectly content to be defiant and difficult but the news of the damage to his pub caused his resolve to falter.  It had been dark and he'd been slightly distracted when he'd apparated away that night - he assumed the building had taken damage; how much was still a mystery.

"Sure," he snorted, his voice dripping with derisive sarcasm.  "With my history, the insurance company gave me the best premiums on my policy."  Sounded like he had some work awaiting him when he got back.  "Is there anything I need to know about cleaning up?  Given the contamination?"  Chances were, it wouldn't be as simple as a sponge and bucket - dammit!  Not having a wand was going to seriously blow. 

Held a woman forcefully?  Really?  That's ... that's how she was looking at this?  Like that Groust woman had been some innocent victim?  He glared at Raynor, taking a step forward, his hand raised to point at the woman accusingly, his opinion on the matter simmering on the tip of his tongue.  He'd give her his piece of mind and a witness statement!  Along with a few other choice words.  He'd only taken a single step when his mother cleared her throat, loudly, stopping him in his tracks. 

"I was defending my pub!  I knew I couldn't count on you Aurors to do anything so I took matters into my own hands.  I'd been closing up shop, taking care of my business when I followed Seamus out into the alley.  That little rat, Briggs, and that wench were trying to set me up!  That woman's a reporter!  I bet she was going to come the next day and claim she'd found it so she could write some worthless piece of trash and smear my name.  They set the fecking venom off and I knew they were going to scram and let me take the blame.   It's not like you people would have believed me anyway.  They would have left and I'd have been locked up.  So, damn right I did what I had to to make her stick around."

There was a childish contentment that the mention of the pub had riled a response. The damages rendered by the explosion were not the Ministry Of Magic’s liability. Level Two and the Department of Mysteries would contain the crime scene and collect the necessary evidence and ‘Catastrophe’s  would see to it that contamination was cleared. Did not want anyone getting hurt after the Ministry had been through – papers would have a field day. But the actual physical damages to the establishment itself? Not their problem.

Given the potency of Runespoor Venom, the residue interference with spells could still create undesirable effects, even after the venom itself was gone.  “The use of magic would not be advisable. But that should not be a problem.” The Auror shifted her weight, reminding herself that she was not here to antagonize him. “I will have RCMC contact you with proper disposal techniques.”  That was a little better.

The bellowing was about to begin. The lion of a man was gathering himself for it, straightening and tightening his diaphragm for more clarity of volume. His face began to darken, starting at the cheekbones and increasing in radius until the entire surface, neck included, was consumed. Those eyes, so closely colored to hers, were blazing. Chin tilted upward, the Auror half-drew the wand beneath her hand, knowing she could stop him before he took a second step but unsure how she would fair if the two other women jumped to his defense. She hesitated; Cináed Tawse was usually at his most harmless when he was seething. It was when he was quiet that one had to worry.

Anna Tawse cleared her throat – and brought her son up short. Reflexively, Raynor’s eyes also darted to the woman and her wand dropped back into its holster.

“Can you prove it?” She asked Tawse as he slammed allegations and assumptions around. The fact that Groust had been unarmed and disoriented and had not posed any physical or magical threat to him appeared irrelevant to the former convict. Trying to advocate the Auror Office as impartial would have an equally pointless mission. “Armed assault, abduction, and refusing to comply with Aurors was not a effective way to profess innocence,” she pointed out politely.  For all she knew, Groust could have been there in the capacity that he said. A reporter out at that time in Knockturn had been foolish but did not make Tawse’s actions excusable. From what they had gathered from Briggs – once they had agreed to cut him a deal, he had sung like a harp – Groust’s appearance had been coincidental.

“If Groust was so intent to frame you, it seems contradictive to not want to press charges against an actual admissible crime.” She met his gaze steadily, allowing the words to sink in. Cináed Tawse did not have to know that the young woman had been very willing to aide in putting him back behind bars. That she had convinced the woman otherwise. She would not give him that.

There it was - a bloody jab at his inability to use magic.  As if his personal lack of a wand meant that he was entirely cut off from the use of magical power.  There were plenty amongst his regular customers who wouldn't hesitate to lift their wands for him if he asked.  There were plenty who'd allow him to borrow a wand if he so asked.  Even if there was smug satisfaction in pointing out the errors in the Auror's thinking, this was definitely a time when there was more to be gained from staying quiet. 

He didn't want to think about the amount of work that lay ahead of him.  Of course, he'd do it - there was no question about that.  That pub represented the full extent of his personal accomplishments - from the successful business to the ever growing ranks of the WBA.  In fact, if he were smart, "this could be an excellent opportunity to expand.  If I'm already doing repairs to the exterior."  One corner of his mouth twitched in a half grin as he considered the idea.  The building next door, indeed, was vacant.  Did he have enough saved to buy it out?  Merlin knew he could use the space.  Every room at the inn had been booked for months now and bone fights were getting more and more cramped every week.  "I might stop by next week to check on the status of #7 - like those precious little muggles say, when life gives you lemons..."  One of the stupidest sayings he'd ever heard Chris say.  But, he was sure his audience would appreciate his cultural sensitivity. 

"Would you have even bothered to listen?" he asked, though his tone made it clear he was already aware of the answer.  His voice was already starting to work its way back up the register.  "Briggs had already scampered off with his tail between his legs like a beat cowardly dog.  If I'd let that stupid wench go, I would have been standing there in that alley alone with runespoor everywhere.  You think I'm stupid enough to believe you'd have listened to me before tossing me back in Azkaban?  Hell no!  I made sure that wench was there to tell the truth and everything would have been fine if your ruddy posse hadn't shown up with a fecking muggle arsenal.  If you really think I was going to face that madman of an Auror with no wand and no cover you've got a ruddy screw loose, Raynor.  He would have blown my fecking head off before listening." 

For as quickly as Cinaed was to write off anything and anyone muggle, he was admittedly grateful that, through Chris, he'd been able to learn something about the creatures.  It sure came in handy when rogue Aurors were trying to recreate the OK Corral. 

"She's not pressing charges because she doesn't want her involvement in it made public," Cinaed insisted, without any clue as to whether or not that assumption was true.  "If she doesn't press charges, she doesn't have to explain what she was doing with a bloody crate of venom outside my pub.  I fully intend to press charges against Briggs and Sellaphix for damages.  And, you know I have connections with good legal advice."  A smirk settled on his face.  While it would pain him to do so, approaching Kingstreet for help on this matter might be oddly satisfying. 

“Azkaban has some open real estate,” she retorted. “Far more becoming of you.”

The Auror was aware of Anna Tawse tensing, caught in her peripheral vision, but she mostly ignored her.  At this juncture, the woman was irrelevant but that did not mean Tamis Raynor was a fool. Even with the knowledge of their relation, she would not put it past the woman to defend her son. The Elder Tawse might be more hesitant about delivering a blow to her niece but her priority would be her son. Thus, she did not ignore her entirely.

The image of Cináed Tawse, stuck on a forsaken, barren tower in the middle of the North Sea shivering in the doom and gloom of the frightening winter wind brought Raynor an immeasurable sense of satisfaction. Tamis had far too strong of a sense of justice to wish to kill the man, though she would find no despair in doing so through self defense. But she wanted him to waste away in the pit of a prison he should have never been allowed to leave. He prattled on about something with lemons. Highly uneducated in the realm of muggle euphemisms, she just continued to stare blankly at him.

The volume picked up again and Tamis straightened her back defiantly before it, but otherwise did not move. She remained calm, unaffected, and trying to keep track of how long it had been since she arrived here. And she wondered how long it would be until Archer paced a trench in the floor before he sent the troops after her. That would be unbeneficial to what she was trying to accomplish here.

“I would love nothing more than to toss you back in Azkaban, Tawse,” she said with restrained tension. “But I have a respect for a law – perhaps you should learn some.”  Eyeing him critically, she shook her head. “If it were as simple as catching you at the scene of a crime to arrest you, I would have already done so for crimes you have actually committed.” She knew he had. They both knew she had. The muggles at King Cross Station. Her chin rose as she very pointedly did not address her renegade Auror. “You would not have risked causing damage to that pub,” she gestured to the sightless excuse of a dog at his feet, “or any of your property. I was not the one that jumped to conclusions.” No. That had been him.

Her lips pursed, “it is within your right to press charges,” she replied, indifferently. But then, she felt as if he had dumped a bucket of ice cold water over her head, such was the effect of his words. She took a bold step closer to him, one eyebrow arched in challenge. “You would not, of course, be admitting to consorting with a highly wanted fugitive, now would you?” Even with a warrant out for her arrest, Kingstreet continued to be a thorn in the legal system’s side. She had been a damn good layer.

"Bitch!"  Cinaed spat back at Raynor.  How dare she go tossing Azkaban around like some casual joke.  He didn't care about the warning grumble in the depths of his mother's throat.  He'd start showing that Auror wench respect when she started offering it first.  That was unlikely to happen anytime soon. 

Perhaps it was easy, from where she stood, tossing around the name of that place so casually.  She didn't have a clue what it meant.  She couldn't have any concept of what a year behind those damp walls was like.  And, it had taken almost a year for the new Ministry to rid the prison of those dementors.  Cinaed could still vividly remember that year - his first year as a legal adult.  Raynor simply couldn't fathom what she was saying. 

Anger flared behind Cinaed's eyes and his fists clenched at his sides.  He'd decided, years ago, there was no way the Ministry was going to toss him back in that place.   If that time came, there was no way he'd be going quietly.  If that time came, he'd be making his last stand.  Like, what was that muggle movie Chris had insisted he watch?  About those two cowboy outlaws.  Butch somebody and some kid.  He'd take out as many aurors as he could before they cut him down.  And, he so hoped Raynor would be amongst the Aurors there to apprehend him.  She'd be the first he'd take out.  But, such wasn't a conversation he intended to have with Raynor. 

"Of course not," he lied blatantly, a small smirk twitching the sides of his beard.  Of course, he had no intentions of admitting to such.  "Business is good; I have no need to go consorting with fugitives for legal aid.  There are several along the ally who are more than happy to do business with me."  Chances were, just as they both knew his name wasn't exactly clean, they were both fully aware he was lying.  Such was the nature of the dance they usually danced together. 

"Are we done here or are there anymore false accusations you feel you need to send my way?"  The sooner they were done with this little cherade, the less likely Cinaed was to get himself in trouble.

The explicative did not faze the petite Auror, that was said with enough force that she had to briefly consider whether or not she was in a splash zone. She thankfully was not assaulted by the man’s saliva.

“Of course not,” she agreed with him, not a single muscle in her face twitching as she consented to his lie. Raynor simply stared at him, filing away this information in the silent arsenal that she was building. Not concerns she was planning on voicing and when he impatiently goaded her to cut to the chase, she obliged. If this drew out any longer, she was going to be in trouble herself.

“Possession of a wand is a direct violation of your parole,” she repeated. “The use of said wand is incriminating to a life sentence in Azkaban. But,” she stressed quickly before he decided to be too rash, “The Ministry has agreed to take the circumstances surrounding the violation into consideration.” By the Ministry she meant Level Two, and as the current prime authority in the Magical Law Enforcement, by Level Two, she meant herself.

“As your parole supervisor, I am here to tell you that in exchange for dismissing the violation, you agree that your place of business and residence, the pub known as the Black Chimaera, will be subjected to twenty four hour surveillance and that from this point on all Parole Inspections will be unannounced.” She shifted, fingers tightening around the wand that had rested beneath them since she entered the property. “If you decline this offer, I will have to arrest you.”

She did not say it, would not say it, but something about the way she said it suggested that, for once, arresting him was not her preferred course of action. Attempting to do so here and now would undoubtedly be met with resistance from the other two women present. Between fending off their advances and Cináed Tawse’s physical abilities, she would be overpowered and he would become a fugitive. His family would have to either run with him or face charges in assisting his escape if not assaulting an Officer.

There was great risk in coming here alone to her physical well being, but there was also a great advantage.

In silence, she awaited his decision.