12:04 pm
Tawse Residence
Just Outside Montrose, Scotland


Even the fur-lined winter cloak weighing heavily around Tamis Raynor’s shoulders did little to hinder the glacial blast of Winter’s fury. The wind howled up from the sharp cliffs as the dark North Sea battered the rocky barrier below. With a massive roar the wind slammed into the petite woman already to her knees in snow. The protective flaps of the cloak flew up and rogue strains of hair stung her cheeks as they whipped mercilessly against her face. She was already not enjoying this.

It was not a social call that brought the Head of the Auror Office to Scotland’s coast. The lone cottage standing stark against the snow was a familiar sight that she could have done without. Too many memories reawakened. A time from her childhood better left forgotten. Roaming those cliffs and its surroundings with the Tawse sisters with a little girls’ sense of adventure. Warm cups of tea in the kitchen. Peering curiously at the boy babe tucked away in his cradle. As much as she might deny it, those memories with her Aunt had been the last of the good ones in the interim between becoming a Ward of the Ministry and starting Hogwarts. If she had known what that little boy would become…

Grasping her cloak closed with one heavily gloved hand, Tamis set her jaw in determination and began to trudge her way toward the Tawse Residence. She was thankful she had charmed the knee high boots, now full submerged in the snow, with a warming spell before leaving that morning. Her nose could not share the sentiment.

The evidence against Cináed Tawse was surmounting. Not all the Aurors investigating the crimes attached to his suspicion agreed with Raynor that he was their man, but there was enough of a trail now to move in for an arrest.  In recent days, she found her thoughts drifting to the hardened Anna Tawse. At six years old, Tamis had not been able to understand the worldly concerns of finances and political affiliates. She had just known that her parents were gone due to the Big War and that her Aunt Anna always seemed to have a strained perseverance about her. The thirty-five year old (how she lamented that) woman had a much better understanding and as much as she might tell herself she did not care for Anna Tawse she could not help ponder over how the pending incarceration  of her son, again, might affect the aging woman.

When she had received an owl the other night from the older woman requesting to talk Tamis’ confliction had not lasted long. It was noon, lunch by Auror Office standards. When she had left the Aurors’ Office, expressing that she had an errand to run, but had not revealed any grand details. However dire the pending conversation might be it she hoped it would not be suspiciously long.

Finally reaching the door, the Auror hesitated with a hand poised before the wooden surface. The thought had occurred to her that this might be a trap, but if Anna Tawse meant her ill will she had plenty of opportunity at Raynor’s last visit. With resolute determination, Tamis’ hand completed the motion and rapped once.

Much like before, she had the suspicion the inhabitants of the cottage were already well aware of her presence. 

It was strange how history had a way of repeating itself.  Though time had displaced itself several decades, the image that filled Tamis Raynor's head wasn't far from that of the present day.  A fire roared in the three downstairs fireplaces and the heat traveling up the chimneys warmed much of the rest of the house.  There was a single cup of tea cradled between Anna Tawse's weathered fingers as the wicked, relentless North Sea wind whistled over the house's roof.  Even the occupied crib didn't seem to have changed.  Except, it wasn't Anna's son in the crib.  It was her grandson. 

A week an a half ago, Cinaed had shown up on her doorstep, the young tyke on his hip.  He'd offered some story about some girl he hadn't known he'd knocked up passing away and leaving his son to him.  He hadn't offered much in the way of details.  Only that the boy's name was Fionn and he wasn't entirely sure what to do with a toddler.  He'd stayed a few days until business had pulled him back to his pub.  He'd returned most evenings, leaving the bartending to his two servers.  Thursday had been the exception; he simply couldn't get away from work.  But, it seemed Fionn was slowly coming to recognize his father. 

Five days ago, the article had been published.  Anna Tawse had recognized the boy in the photo immediately though she hadn't said anything to her son.  She could understand the sentiments of parenthood that would drive one to do something they shouldn't do but she was also well aware this boy's presence could mean a one way ticked back to Azkaban.  The only hope, really, was a calm, non-violent resolution to this.  If this was kept ... a family matter maybe, just maybe, it could be resolved outside of the Ministry courtrooms.  Her son would never forgive her but there were times when parents were forced to do things their children didn't agree with.  This was bound to be one of those times. 

Fionn seemed to have slept through the knock on the door.  Anna set the cup of tea down on the table and wrapped her shawl around her shoulders before shutting the kitchen door behind her as she made her way to the front entry.  She pulled open the door, trying to ignore the sense of doubt as she peered at the Head Auror.  But, she'd come this far.  Closing the door now would just raise more suspicion. 

"We need to talk," Anna offered instead of a greeting as she held the door open for the younger woman.  "No one else is here-" except, of course, for the child.  But, Anna had every intentions of getting a feel for the situation before putting all of her cards on the table.  She also had no idea how to broach this topic. 

The Londoner had clearly outgrown her harden tolerance for the violent Scotland winter. When the door opened revealing Anna Tawse’s weathered features, the Head Auror looked small (null point) and frail in comparison. The tip of her nose stood out in strong contrast against the pallor of her already normally fair complexion. Her cheeks were not quite as cherry blossom but were fairly wind whipped themselves. The cool appraisal in Tamis Raynor’s gray eyes, however, matched the regard of the older woman; right down to the shade.

Hidden beneath the heavy folders of her cloak, the Auror held a hand carefully clasped around her wand. She half expected to be greeted by a clan of drawn wands and was ready to curse her own stupidity for accepting the mother of the Auror Office’s biggest nuisance at her word. But Anna was alone in the threshold and despite the smell and (regrettably inviting) crackle of the fireplace, all else was quiet. Similar weariness lurked in her Aunt’s guarded visage.

When she had received the letter the other day, she had found it very timely. Not a few days after Robin Adani’s photo had been distributed through the Daily Prophet, Jonas Trevelyan had cracked tipping the Auror Office that Cináed Tawse had hired him on to do some research into an alleged son. Guess who that son had been? Aberdeen Spencer had gone to extreme lengths to ensure Robin’s birth father remained ignorant of his existence. Tamis was, perhaps, the one of only one able-minded that knew the full story behind Spencer’s acquisition of the babe. How, if Tawse truly was the father, had he been informed?

He could not have been. Unless he had asked Spencer when he imperioused her at the muggle Doctor’s Office. Did she know that for certain? No. But her gut did. But her gut would not hold up against the Wizengamot, not after the catastrophe with Stevenson claiming her involvement in this case was for personal gain. It was the only reason she had not moved in on Tawse yet.

And now his mother wanted to speak with her.

  “I am getting that impression,” Raynor replied to the blunt substitute of a greeting. The matriarch stepped back, claiming she was as alone as she seemed. The Auror hesitated. It was so brief than an eye not looking for such a minor detail would have missed it, but she lingered before taking a step forward into the house. How strong the threadbare trust between an Aunt and her Niece went when before her mother’s maternal instinct to protect her son shattered the bond was a precarious question.

Tamis’ boots, notably, did not track snow into the small cottage. Nor did they drip on the floorboards as the welcomed warmth assaulted them.

After a quick survey of the room, Tamis turned back to face Anna Tawse, one eyebrow expectantly quirked. “What you failed to mention was the subject.”

The Head Auror stepped into the warmth of the cottage, the stiff sea wind chasing her in.  Anna Tawse put a strong, weathered hand on the door and pushed it, the pitch of the whistling wind increasing as it fell shut. 

There was no doubt the two women were approaching this meeting from very different places with very different motivations.  For Anna, this meeting was about the protection and preservation of her family.  For the safety of both her son and her grandson.  She understood her son's reasoning for taking the child; any parent would.  She could understand and sympathize with Cinaed's drive to protect and raise his own child and she had no doubts he was correct in assuming no one would ever grant him access to his child. 

But, she was also not foolish.  She knew the decision her son had made would only lead to trouble for him and the child.  Any chance Cinaed had of gaining any contact with his child was destroyed the moment he'd snatched the boy.  Anna had asked Tamis here to protect her family though not by any foolish hope of keeping her grandson in the family but rather by keeping her son alive. 

"We have a problem," Anna offered the younger woman.  There was no point in pretending this was a social call.  There wasn't likely to ever be one.  This part of the family, it seemed, had fallen too far from the roots for that.  She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders as she moved down the hall but stopped a few paces shy of the kitchen door, pivoting in the hallway to not-too-subtly block the younger woman's passage temporarily.  "I'm well aware of what you think of my son and I have no doubts he deserves most of it.  However, he's still my son.  Some still believe that family ties mean something." 

"My son made a mistake.  I do not know the details nor do I care to know.  I'm just looking for the best resolution to this."  He would, likely, never speak to her again.  But, it was too late to turn back now.  Especially after the little tyke woke and started crying.

There was an anxiety to the interior of the house that was different from the hostility of her previous visit. It was no less welcome but the strain seemed much more… desperate. It was making the Auror antsy, putting her on edge, and her Auror senses tingle in response to imminent trouble.

 The woman moved swiftly in front of her, bringing her up short, and baring her progression into what Tamis remembered as the kitchen. Raising her chin, Raynor stared at the taller woman, forcing her hand to slip away from the wand holster she had instinctively rested it on.

The matriarch was speaking cryptically through obvious ambiguities.

Family ties still mean something. The petite Auror was growing tiresome of those subtle remarks and snubs. She opened her mouth to say something, but then – an infant stated crying from within the kitchen. It was not surprise that realized across Tamis Raynor’s face, but rather a grim understanding of the repercussions of being right. And of what Anna Tawse was asking of her. Asking of her niece. Asking as a mother pleading for her son. Whatever her opinion of Cináed Tawse, she did not dislike the woman standing before her.

Mistake. Mistake did not begin to cover this.

“I cannot bail him out of this, Anna.” Frustration leaked into her voice. “I cannot keep buffering him from the law.” She had done it once, when he had snatched Margaret Groust. She had done it vastly for her own purposes and agenda, but inherently she had known Cináed Tawse had not deserved to go back to Azkaban for that event. Personal hatred aside, the Auror had an overall morality complex with justice. And this, this he was most certainly guilty of.  And Anna was asking her to choose between blood and justice. “I am an officer of the law.”

Turning away from Anna, Tamis paced back and forth across the living room for a moment, beginning to run a hand through her hair before she realized it and snapped her arm back down. This was the exact thing she needed to bring Tawse down. She could leave right now, gather back up, and arrest him. His mother was taking that risk, knowing she could do that, but had practically handed over her son by bringing Raynor here. The yeti, to use an Adon Eleor phrase, was not going to be happy with his mother.

Had she hoped a peaceful resolution would be better for him? “There is a lot more going on here, Anna. Things that cannot be…” She strengthen her resolve and shoved her emotions back in their place. “I am going to have to take the boy,” she finally said, much more calm and authoritative. She just failed to mention that she meant both of them. 

"I'm not a fool," Anna assured her niece tersely.  She was many things, but a blind fool wasn't one of them. 

The lad was still crying.  Anna found herself torn between a maternal nurturing instinct that was drawing her to go and hold and comfort the child and the matriarchal need to defend her own.  The later was stubbornly urging Anna to keep the woman in front of her well away from the boy.  Reason, however, was winning out.  When it came down to it, when Tamis decided to go for the child, there'd be little Anna could do to stop the woman.  Not to mention, her stubborn doubt aside, she was well aware that having her grandson go with Tamis had been one of the integral parts of whatever resolution Anna had forced into play. 

With a sigh pregnant with solemn resignation, Anna turned and led the way into the kitchen.  She crossed the wooden floor to the child and hoisted him onto her hip, her eyes scanning the counters as she murmured, soothingly to the youngster in gaelic. 

"I'm not a fool," she repeated, turning back to Tamis once the boy had settled.  "I did not expect this to end without repercussions."  A statement which wasn't, entirely, the truth.  She had hoped for just that though, perhaps, even as she'd hoped for it, she'd subconsciously recognized the futility.  How quickly her mind had abandoned that pretense all together when its fruitlessness had become apparent.  "I'm not expecting him to be fully buffered - I'm-" 

Anna hesitated, aware that she wasn't entirely sure what she was asking or even what she had the stomach to really ask.  Ultimately, on a subconscious level, she knew she was asking her niece to do what she could to help keep her son safe.  Not without consequences, not free from those damp walls of Azkaban - no ... Anna would settle for alive.  She knew her son; he was too like his father for Anna to completely ignore what she knew.  She knew they were standing on a volatile tinderbox.  She loved her son; she was his mother but she knew what could very well come from Cinaed getting cornered by the Ministry.  In defense of his child, no less.

"The less eventful this can end, the better.  That's all I'm asking."

The view into the kitchen was still blocked by the taller woman.  The Auror could have told her to step aside, could have used the wand at her hip to force her if she had to. Yet she did not sense any hostility from Anna Tawse. Why would the woman bring her here and practically wave the missing child under her nose to now attempt to prevent her access to the boy? Unless she was second guessing her motives? Realizing the impossibility of her request? Raynor squared her shoulders, tensing in uncertainty.

Finally, the older woman relented, deflating in defeat and turned on her heel to lead the way into the Kitchen. The four word response stuck with Tamis. She did not consider her aunt to be a fool, she simply considered her to be desperate.

When she gained access to the Kitchen, she paid little heed of the details around her. She did not absorb the faint familiarity of it all or wonder how many times she had been in this very kitchen as a child. Her gaze rested only on the red faced toddler, sobbing pitifully as the seasoned grandmother picked him up to soothe him. Relief flooded Raynor briefly, the boy did not look to be unharmed, but she also hung wearily in the distance, hesitating. Tamis Raynor was not very good with children; the younger they became the worse off it seemed to be. She had met Robin Adani a handful of times before and none of those encounters had gone well.

The voice of Tawse’s mother brought her back to reality. She absorbed the words carefully, a lump building in her throat. The woman knew there had to be consequences, but she had brought Raynor here in hopes of lessening those consequences. The Head Auror held no sympathy for the former inmate. She did not doubt if he was given the chance that he would make due on his threats against her. But he had a mother that truly cared about him. If she was adept at admitting truths to herself, she might have been jealous about that.

She took a few tentative steps forward as Anna seemed to sooth the toddler, his crying easing and face lightening back into a fairer complexion. Drawing more near, Tamis glanced at Anna Tawse once – not for permission, but the gage her reaction – before leaning in so that the child could see her. Had his memory been wiped as well?

“Robin?” she asked the near-three year old, as kindly as she could manage. The boy seemed to start and turned to look at her, but whether it was in response to his name or the sudden voice, she could not be certain. There was a calculating pause. The boy’s face scrunched up again and he began wailing again, with more vigor. Tamis retreated as if there was a snake lashing at her heels. He either remembered her or was proving her theory with babies. What was it about her that made them cry?

Waiting for the crying to mellow enough to be heard, Tams took a deep breath of her own and let it out raggedly, running a hand back through her hair, quickly coming to a decision about something. Not for the sake of Cináed Tawse, the cousin Raynor would never be able to bring herself to acknowledge. But for his mother, the aunt that she was closer to admitting to having.

“He will stand trial, Anna,” Tamis said quietly, “But I will do my best to make sure it is a fair one.” That was not always the case in Wizarding Court. “If he resists arrest, I cannot make any assurances. But I will do my best to ensure safe handling.”

It was the best that she could do. Considering who the man was, it was more than a gracious offer coming from Tamis Raynor.

It hadn't surprised Cinaed that Liadan's visits to the Black Chimaera had become more numerous since the Ministry assigned Chris to Knockturn and the pub.  It seemed the two were managing to finally make some progress in the area of their personal interactions.  What was more surprising was how persistent the little lady was in sticking around even when Cinaed had made it quite clear (on at least four separate occasions) that Chris wasn't around that evening.  And wouldn't be around. 

Even more frustratingly surprising: Chris had to go and show up, just to prove him wrong.

Though, no, it hadn't been just to prove him wrong.  And, Liadan being there had proven to be advantageous.  Chris had gotten word that Raynor was headed to the Tawse home in Montrose.  It mattered little what had precipitated Raynor's visit to the family home.  Whether she'd gotten wind of Fionn's presence there or was simple making a routine inspection was irrelevant.  Cinaed needed to get home. And, they'd need to get Fionn back out of there fast.  He'd left Liadan and Chris waiting by the fireplace in his room.  Once they had the child, they'd go to the back courtyard and disapparate from there.  Chris would leave the child with Liadan, Liadan would send word of where they were and Chris would return to the Ministry to warn the other Aurors that Raynor might be in trouble. 

With luck, Raynor would be dead before the posse arrived. 

Cinaed emerged slowly from the fireplace in the upstairs library, his wand in hand.  He slipped off his boots, removed his belt and checked his robes for anything dangling that might herald his arrival before he was ready.  He padded silently across the floor and down the wooden steps, taking care to step square on the risers and skip the third step to avoid any creaking. 

"Robin.  Is that his name?"

He recognized his mothers voice and the nervous though conversational tone to it.  And, then, Raynor's voice in reply.  They ... they were negotiating his arrest and trial.  His own mother.  Had she betrayed him?

"You bitch!" he barked, his wand held out, pointed squarely at Raynor, his vicious glare directed squarely at his mother.  "How dare you!  Put him down.  Now." 

Oh, what he wouldn't give to just fire off a single curse.  That was all it would take.  A flash of green and Raynor would be dead.  Of course, he'd always dreamed of breaking her first but he would be willing to compromise.  But, Cinaed's first priority was getting the boy from his mother's clutches and then to the fireplace.  Raynor stood between him and the boy and the exit.  He couldn't risk firing off any curses with the boy in the room - especially not with his target between him and the boy.  He wouldn't risk it.  "Move to the corner.  Both of you!"

“Yes. Robin,” the Auror clarified, risking another glance up at the taller woman. “I believe it was the name his mother gave him, before his adoptive parents agreed to take care of him.” It was perhaps the most information that she would risk giving Anna Tawse. If her son was indeed the biological father, there were consequences to face for Robin’s mother; both of them.

She opened her mouth, another set of words forming, but whatever she had been about to say was lost by a deafening roar. A familiar deafening roar with an all too familiar explicative. He had never been very creative with them.

Damn. Archer was going to kill her. If he had a chance to.

Turning swiftly at the voice, Tamis whipped around, a hand already settled on the wand at her hip. But Cináed Tawse already had his drawn and leveled. She did not notice his bootless feet or his loose flapping shirt. In another situation, always coming across the man in some state of undress might have held comedic qualities. All she saw was the wand. Her face may have lost some color, but her fair complexion in the middle of winter made it hard to tell.

For nearly five years now she had dealt with this man, always knowing he was dangerous, always knowing that he could physically overpower her, but she had never considered him a Danger. Magic had always made the difference; had always given her the advantage. For the first time, Raynor was worried.

She could have taken him out. She considered it even now, her hand floating above her wand. While the petite Auror was not an exceptionally powerful witch, she was not unskilled. Her draw was one of the fastest on Level Two and Tawse did not nearly have the experience. He would not win. But she likewise would not risk it, not in a confined space with two innocents in the balance. One… one of which she had just promised that she would make sure this man would make it out alive.

For the briefest moment she wondered if this had all been a ruse, a trap all along. That Anna really was looking out for the best for her son and had decided that cooperating with the law was not the answer. And that the Auror had foolishly played right into it. But the sheer fury in Tawse’s expression. Raynor had known the man for far too long, she knew when he was acting. There was no lie in that anger.

“You do not want to do this, Tawse,” she told him, shifting her right leg back to narrow her stance. She held her right hand opened behind her, encouraging Anna to stay where she was. Keeping woman and child close made it easier to protect, and in return it offered her some protection. By shifting her stance, not only did she make herself an even smaller target, but it increased the chance of hitting the child behind her should he fire and miss or should she dodge. He had risked this much in taking Robin. Raynor was hoping it would be enough to offer some amount of control over the situation.

“Do not make it to where you cannot come back from this,” she warned, her fingers still twitching undecided above her wand on the side of her body now closest to his. It was already too late, in many respects. Azkaban was a certainty. Not exactly a fact she was keen on pointing out. “Put the wand down and we will talk. I have never lied to you.”

Which was, very true. But was she lying to herself? Could she take down her Aunt’s only son right in front of her? Right in front of his child?

"Of course I don't want to," Cinaed snarled back.  What did she think - that he wanted to get arrested?  He wasn't looking for a confrontation over this.   This had nothing to do with her!  This ... that boy had nothing to do with the Ministry.  Fionn was Cinaed's son - Margo had no had no right to deny him his son.  If she had decided she no longer wanted the boy then Fionn should have been offered to Cinaed. 

And he wasn't about to let the Ministry take his boy again.  Whether he wanted to do this or not wasn't a question.  "I have a right to my son!"

He watched his Supervisor step between him and his mother and son and and assume a position that clearly put his mother and son at risk if he tried to fire anything.  To his surprise and dismay, his mother was making no attempts to rectify the situation.   "How could you?"  He glared at his mother, shaking his head at the betrayal.  "Hand Fionn over." 

"No."  Came the simple, unwavering reply from the Anna Tawse.  Cinaed glared at his mother.  He could not believe this!  He could not believe his own mother would betray him to the Ministry.  "There are times, as parents, we have to do what we know is best for our child.  Even if-" She started to say but, had to raise her voice to be heard over Cinaed's curt "Shut up!"  "Even if its not what's best for us." 

But Cinaed wasn't hearing it - he couldn't and wouldn't hear it.  How could his mother - the wife of Fionn Tawse IV, believe handing over his son to the Ministry was in the child's best interest?  "And, what's best is to be raised by a mudblood and a muggle?" 

No.  That wouldn't happen.  Cinaed would not allow that to happen.

He reacted quickly, adopting a strategy he hoped would keep his family safe.  He flicked his wand in the direction of the fire and sent the kettle of tea water hurling in the Auror's direction.  At the same moment, he bolted forward, hoping to take advantage of the moment of distraction as Raynor turned towards the projectile.  He could hear his mother yelling at him to stop and, out of the corner of his eye, saw her turn, hunching her body around the toddler in an attempt to shield him from any stray kettle fragments or boiling water as the kettle either struck its target or was hexed into oblivion. 

Just as he reached the Auror, he transferred his wand to his left hand and drew back with his right, swinging his fist at her with his full strength.  This was, definitely, where their relative heights played to his advantage. 

“There are other ways to go about gaining custody, Tawse,” Raynor stressed as calmly as she could, feeling her meager grip on the situation already loosening. In reality, even the Auror knew that, while that was true, it was not particularly applicable. He was a former criminal, one of the Wandless (though not at current), and a shady pub owner from an equally shady part of the wizarding world, and single. He did not stand a chance in a custody hearing against an Auror with a stable, Respectable career and married to a stable man with a reliable income. And given the “suspicious” circumstances of Margo’s death… the Wizengamot would have no mercy.

She might have felt the tiniest, meager amount of sympathy if she did not suspect (as Aberdeen Spencer had) that he had killed the child’s biological mother, destroyed the lives of his adoptive parents, and committed a mounting number of other crimes. It was not the best interest of the child he was considering, but saying as much was not going to placate the situation. Anna Tawse was not helping that objective.

At another point in time, she might find sentimental value in the fact that her Aunt’s intentions in luring her here had been genuine. At a time when she did not have a wand pointed squarely at her chest.

The innocents had to get out of the equation. “Anna,” she said quickly, “take Robin and –“ ‘get out of here’ never quite made it to her lips. A steaming hot kettle and its contents was came flying in her direction. The Auror reacted quickly, wand already in hand. The teapot careened into the makeshift shield she had thrown around herself and her aunt and… some sort of toddler cousin… and shattered forcefully upon impact. It had been a diversion, she knew it. Knew it as well as she knew that even as she turned to face the next threat it was too late. He was too fast.

Even as he drew his fist back, seemingly in slow motion, and she just as ‘slowly’ reoriented herself to face him. It was intriguing in moments such as these where the mind had time to rationalize. She could have thrown up a shield, blunting the blow, but the force of it would knock her into the counter and dishes behind them, not helping the situation much. She could have magically thrown him back, but without the collateral of Robin and his mother being directly behind her anymore, the risk of Unforgivables being fired was a real one. Process of elimination. Taking a reflexive step back to avoid a blow to the face, she cast a disarming spell just as his fist connected with her torso.

Time caught up with itself.

It hurt. More than she ever imagined it would. It was like being run over by a team of Abraxian, but more locally concentrated. Physical blows were not uncommon when duelers became too close, but it was not like this. The blow knocked the air from her lungs and both felt and heard something crack in response as the forward force and the punch rammed her sharply against the kitchen counter and tumbled her wand from her hand. Mind hazed, she reacted using the resistance of the counter to lift her feet and tried to ram them against the much larger man’s chest as hard as she could, instinctively trying to push him away and re-establish distance with her attacker.

Big mistake. Pain, dulled until that point by adrenalin, flamed along her ribcage and gasping made it worse. Sliding heavily to the floor, her fingers frantically searched for her fallen wand. Anna would have to forgive her. It was going to be him or her.   

He gave a cold, dangerous, derisive snort of a laugh.  "That's a bloody, fecking lie and we both know it!" he growled back at the Auror.  Really?  How idiotic did she think he was?  And, to go insisting in one breath that she'd never lie to him and in the next try to toss some rubbage at him about how there would have been other ways to gain custody.  The Ministry would never have given Cinaed the time of day if he'd try to address the matter of custody through official channels. 

He wasn't even allowed anywhere near schools or playgrounds.  The Ministry was as likely to give him any fraction of custody over his offspring as they were to place him in the Wizengemot. 

But, in the end, Cinaed had never been a man for words and discussion - he was a man of action.  The Auror's shield had protected his mother and son from the spray of boiling water but had left her vulnerably exposed on the side.  On his side.  The diversion would only last a moment but a moment was all he needed.  In a straight wand duel, he would have been no match for her.  His hexes and curses carried strength and power but he lacked the speed and experience of a dueler.  A detail he would have to work to rectify - now that he was in full possession of a wand.  But, in brute hand to hand combat, Raynor didn't stand a chance.  He'd survived six years in Knockturn Alley wandless - where she had experience dueling wand-to-wand, he had experience going up against wands with fists and knives and whatever else he could get his hands on. 

In this case, it was just his heavy fist and well-muscled arm meeting Raynor in the chest.  His other hand, still clutching the wand, had followed close behind the first to issue a solid follow up punch to the woman's kidney's.  The disarming charm caught that second hand, sending the wand flying from his grasp.  He didn't have time, though, to register whether that swing had met its mark.

Either way, the attack had been successful.  Raynor was on the floor, for the moment.  Getting the boy out of there was his first priority.  Once he was out of the picture, the risk of collateral went with him and all bets were off.  He ripped the boy from his mother's hands, ignoring the renewed protests from the woman and sobs from the child.  A handful of floo powder was tossed at the fire.  "Black Chimaera," he shouted, thrusting the child through the flames as the raged a bright green.  Again, his mother piped up with some warning about the magnitude of his mistake and some other rubbish. 

But, he didn't hear it.  He wasn't listening.  He was looking for his wand.  By the time he'd located it and turned back towards the Auror, intent upon issuing a final blow, he found his mother standing squarely between the two of them.  "What the hell are you doing?"  He growled at the woman.  Protecting Fionn - that he could understand.  But, Raynor?  "Get out of the way!"

The smirk Raynor offered in return to Tawse’s threatening laugh was pleasantly frigid.  “I said there were other channels available.” She shrugged her shoulders in a nonchalant fashion. “I never said you would be successful.” Bandying words with a man twice her size and murder in his eyes was not an effective diffuser. But frankly, there was not going to be a way to smooth this over. They had both already made up their minds. She might as well defend her integrity.

There were a number of unfair ratios to this situation, not excluding muscle mass, bone structure, and the not-easily-forgotten detail that there was more than eighteen inches between the top of her head and his. It was the equivalent of a dragon picking a fight with a gecko, except Tamis Raynor did not have the benefit of being able to regenerate her body parts.

Hopefully it would not be an evolutionary necessity she would have to develop in the next ten minutes.

At least there would not be any flashes of green light to dodge in the near future. Her disarming spell hit its mark, sending his wand flying somewhere into the abyss beyond her immediate attention. The satisfaction of one-upping her yeti-sized assailant was short lived once she remembered that her own wand had been sacrificed as a result of ridding him of his. Which brought them back to those unfair rations.

The next major blow caught her sharply below her already inflamed ribs; the residual pain along her chest at a second impact became arbitrary to the spiking fear of not being able to breathe. Her lungs stubbornly refused to cooperate, caught somewhere between the instinctive gasp she had taken on impact and trying to expel that breath.  She doubled over, but some magic did not require a wand, or breath. Some of it was innate. She threw a defensive charge at him to try and preoccupy him for going for another blow as her fingers curled around the familiar circumference of her wand. But he was not interested in continuing the fight now that he had her down.

Robin.

Her grip tightened around her wand, but the thing about concentrating on breathing was that it made it difficult to think about anything else. Holding her right hand to her chest, by the time she could concentrate on forming the nonverbal stunner, the fireplace roared green and the boy was gone. Where was that boy going to go? What life did Cináed Tawse believe he could offer the child that he would go to such drastic measures, risking exposure on all of his more lofty adventures? With the Adanis he would have had a stable home, stable income, and a Hogwarts Education if he proved magical. She tried not to visualize a future for the child on his current path. She did not have to. They were going to get him back.

Finally drawing a much needed breath, the expanse of her lungs constricted uncomfortably but it helped clear her head. She could have immobilized him quickly magically, but this was personal now.  She remained passive on the kitchen floor, only semi-feinting the incapacitation, as he searched for his wand. The petite Auror maintained the limp façade as he drew near, and then once he was close enough aimed a kick with a heavily clad, steal toed boot -- directly for his groin. She did not need to be a martial artist to know that one.

Revenge potentially fulfilled, she raised her wand to beat him to the spell… Just as Anna Tawse stepped between them.

Tamis was as equally shocked as the elder woman’s son was. Though, she did not believe, as Tawse seemed to, that it had been purely for the Auror’s protection that she had stepped in. Bracing a hand on the counter, Raynor managed to heave herself up into something that better resembled a standing position. Her chest tightened painfully again, but she was not going to let him see her struggle to take in a breath

“What she was trying to do from the beginning, Tawse,” she managed, coughing, but giving the younger man a steady gaze from behind Anna. She tightened her grip on her wand and drew another careful breath. “Prevent your trip to Azkaban from being a life sentence." She coughed again, but still held his gaze evenly.  "Too bad it was a lost cause. ”

It was a shame the boy had been there - for reasons beyond the simple risk of the boy becoming a collateral damage.  Had getting the boy out not been a priority, Cinaed would have seized the advantage those first two blows had bought him.  That upper cut would have been followed with another to the gut, and another, until the woman was an unrecognizable lump of mincemeat. 

But, for the moment, there'd been higher priorities than unleashing over a decade's worth of hatred on this woman.  In the end, the need to protect his get had won out over the instant gratification of extracting full revenge on the woman.  Shame. 

At least there'd been one fortunate turn of events: Raynor had dropped any pretenses of strained civility or politicking.  The attempts to convince Cinaed of any sort of Ministry consideration had passed.  With Fionn out of the picture, Cinaed turned back, watching the Auror struggling to gain control of her breathing with unconcealed enjoyment. 

The fight was far from over, though.  He needed to get his wand again before the woman recovered enough to retaliate.  He couldn't let her get the advantage; once she obtained it, Cinaed was smart enough to know she'd get the better of him.  His wand in hand, he turned towards the woman, only for his vision to blacken with a burst of pain.  He doubled over, his eyes flying shut, momentarily forgetting about the other two women in the room.  Or his pending lifetime sentence.  Or his name.  Or anything but intense, excruciating pain. 

The pain began to slowly and reluctantly subside.  But, the lessened pain was accompanied by a steadily increasing understanding of reality.  Raynor had him.  Those few moments had been all she needed to gain the upper hand.  He'd expected ropes to bind him as he lifted his head to peer across at her.  But, the debilitating nature of the pain had been mutual - neither of them were in any condition to move around the woman that stood between them.  And, Cinaed was still as baffled as ever. 

"Shut up, bitch," he spat to Raynor.  Her explanation was as useless as it was probably intended to be.  He'd asked for an explanation as to why his mother was intervening.  He hadn't been asking for her to spew rubbish about what she hoped would happen.  She might be right; it might be inevitable the Ministry was wanting to slap him with a life sentence.  She, however, was wrong in thinking she'd actually see him serve it.  "Before I see the inside of that place, I'll see you dead and -"

"Cinaed!"  His mother turned to him, but all she saw was anger and confusion.  What was going on?  Why was his mother not only helping Raynor but ... defending her? 

But, there wasn't time to worry about his mother's weird behavior.  He needed to make a break for it - before Raynor recovered enough to get around his mother.  He needed a diversion - something to distract Raynor just enough to get outside.  Again, a straight out duel was unlikely to work in his favor; a situation he was going to have to rectify.  But Raynor, like all Aurors, seemed to have a weakness: their undying need to protect and help others.  That had allowed him to get away after the Runespoor explosion.  That would help him now. 

He was counting on the fact that the Auror was going to try to protect his mother, again.  That would buy him a few moments to get outside and shift.  Or, shift and get outside.  At this point, what did it matter if Raynor discovered he was an illegal animagus?  What's the worst she could do?  Tag on three years to his life sentence?  And, if his mother got hurt ... at this point, Cinaed was angry enough at his mother for betraying him, he didn't much care.  He lifted his wand and lobbed a blast at the wall just over the head's of Raynor and his mother.  The blast struck the corner of the wall where it met the ceiling, sending down a cascade of thick white bricks and floorboards from the floor overhead. 

There was an immense sort of revengeful satisfaction watching the large beast of a man dropped as well, the floorboards flexed with his fallen weight. With his eyes clamped tightly shut and his world narrowed around one intelligently aimed kicked, she knew as well as he did that she had him. Or she should have had him. All she had to do was secure him and bring him in. With the charges surmounting back at Headquarters, all they needed were a few testimonies and the bias of the Wizengamot would take it from there. They could even raid the Chimera, where the Aurors would do doubt find Kingstreet hoarded away.

And her promise would be kept to Anna Tawse.

Instead, she half stood/half slumped, chest rising and falling irregularly trying not to cough again while he likewise crouched on the floor, dealing with his own physical woes. It might have been entertaining, the two combatants practically on the floor, breathing heavily and glaring at each other from either side of the seasoned woman parked determinedly between them.

For a panicked moment, Raynor thought Anna was about to tell Tawse the truth. The reason she had contacted Tamis Raynor if she was trying to facilitate a deal and not someone who might be more naturally inclined to believe the best in Cináed Tawse. Somehow, the Auror did not believe learning of a blood relation was going to make him less murderous.

It seemed not even being his mother was an advantage anymore. With a rather horrendous BOOM the ceiling and section of wall overtop the two women’s heads exploded. The Head Auror had enough time to curse. She was getting too old for this. 

She was playing right how he wanted her too, the Auror knew that. But she could not risk an innocent. Lunging forward (or falling with forward momentum, depending on how you looked at it), Raynor tackled Anna Tawse and attempted to cover her, throwing up another shield charm. This one was not entirely effective. Most of the debris hit the shield and scattered around them, bricks breaking to dust as they rebounded and took out the kitchen counter. A few of them hit their desired targets. One slammed solidly into Raynor’s back and she gasped as it pressed her down against her broken ribs.

The debris settled in a white cloud of dust and the Auror rolled off of Anna and onto her back, fighting darkening vision. Now was not an advisable time to lose consciousness. Consciousness. The word provoked the spell.

“Concusso,” she wheezed, not able to pointing her wand in any particular direction. She did not need to, hopefully Anna was close enough to be all right. A powerful magical shockwave erupted in a circle, lashing out from around. It disturbed the fallen debris and did further damage to the house but at this point, she was far from worried about that. She might have bought herself a handful of seconds. Shifting, she tried to get back up, but found her limps incompliant to her wishes.



Cuncusso/Shockwave Curse (according to AO Lexicon):  An [invisible] spell that causes a powerful magical shockwave, which can be either directed or 360 degrees. This may destroy some weaker objects, and can injure or stun living targets. It is cast with a flick of the wand. Instantaneous.