Dinner: 7pm; Time: 6:15pm; state time of arrival in post
Location: Lady Rose Hall; located directly behind the Manor

Good Godric & save the matches, was all tht Gabrielle could think as she was rushing in the black fringed dress inside the Hall, ensuring all the pieces for the dinner was sitting in its right place, cobwebs cleared, liquor stocked properly in the lounge, & even to ensure the fireplaces were lit. "IMP!" she hollered when she could not find the devilish specter that was the closest thing to a servant she had & soon, she smelled the brimstone. "Yessss, ma'm? The fireplaces have been liiiit & the meals are still warming," his slick voice cooed even as his yellow eyes sparkled mischief. "That's a good boy - now...no  messing about; we have Father & Kabir. And Gwydion." Imp's eyes lit up, knowing full well his mistress hadn't told her father but disappeared with that smile still on his face. Shaking her head with a smile, Gabrielle went to a mirror to make sure her outfit appeared feasible before going back to work.

She was surprised when Gwyn had said that he would come but she had stressed for him not to be the first...but, should he, Gabie was prepared for it. If (she had heard rumors, so she wasn't entirely sure but was happy for him) Kabir could have a love interest, Gabie should be allowed to have her old flame, right? A sigh escaped her lips as her eyes looked to the clock. Six fifteen - oy... The drama would surely begin once someone showed up & well, Gabie needed to be prepared for anything & everything. "God save me."

---

Title is a play on the song 'Sensitivity' from Once Upon A Mattress! :3

Vlad was dressed suavely but comfortably, in a burgundy-colored velvet smoking jacket, a white dress shirt (no tie...he hated ties!) and black trousers. He had made a point to arrive early, knowing that Gabie would probably be in a dither over the upcoming events.

Kabir would be arriving at six-thirty sharp. Vlad too had heard some rumors...that his Indian friend was dating sultry Claudia from the Minister's office. Vlad was not sure if he approved of this or not. He had nothing against Claudia really. She was an intelligent young woman...obviously, or she would never have risen to the position of Minister's assistant. It was just that Ministry gossips implied she had obtained the post through...shall we say...other talents.

Of course such gossip was not to be believed, if spread by jealous witches or spurned former lovers. And as most of the rumours seemed traceable to one or the other of those sources,  Vlad was inclined to take them with a grain of salt. Still he did not wish for Kabir...who despite having been married was still somewhat naive about women...to become grist for the Ministry gossip mills. Particularly since several denizens of Level 2...Kabir's closest counterparts... did not get on well with Vespucciani.  Vlad would not like to see what might happen, let us say, if Radley decided to twit Kabir about this involvement with his onetime inamorata.

"Imp!" exclaimed Vlad, when the Elf materialized at his knock.  He smiled at the mischief lurking in those yellow eyes. "You look like the cat who swallowed the cream, and a whole goldfish bowl to go with it! What have you been up to?"

The three-piece suit was a discreet lilac, its lapels just a shade darker than the rest. The shoes were soft leather, white and protected against the otherwise unavoidable creases by a special charm. The suit´s left breast pocket sported a yellow carnation; the tie Gwydion was wearing was of the same canary yellow - a colour that some might have considered entirely unfitting in combination with the suit, but which Gwydion himself thought rather fashionable.

He liked to dress well, and for such an occasion all the more. Gwydion still wasn´t sure where he stood with Gabie... truth be told, he didn´t even know where he wanted to stand with her, and even less did he know what she wanted... but that wasn´t the problem, of course. They´d figure it out, after all they had all the time in the world. No, it was more that her father would be present tonight, and it was always a good idea to make a good impression on the father of a girl you liked - especially if you had managed to leave such a disastrous impression the last time.

A little smile appeared on Gwydion´s lips as he caught a glimpse of his grey locks in the hallway mirror... no matter how many years went by, he´d probably always think of Gabie as a girl. Hopefully her father would no longer see Gwydion as the no-good boy who was trying to steal his princess away... which was, of course, precisely what he was. Gwydion just hoped his grey hair would lend him an air of respectability that he could otherwise never hope to achieve.

A bouquet of exotic flowers clasped in his left hand, he apparated outside of Murray Manor just two minutes after six thirty. He gave a friendly nod to the little house elf who opened him and appeared to want to take his coat.*

"No coat, thank you, my friend. Apparated directly from my place to your front door. Ah, and there is the lady of the house - Gabie, you look beautiful. As always, I might add." He presented the flowers to her with a flourish. Then, with a wide smile, he turned to the man standing next to her and stretched out his hand.

"Mr. Dragulia. Pleased, of course. How have you been the last... twenty-five years? Incredible, is it already so long? Time flies, eh?"

It was ridiculous, really, being nervous at his age; there was no reason to. Vlad was no longer a fear-inducing authority figure; he was just an elderly wizard with a red dinner jacket, and Gabie was a self-confident woman who didn´t take her orders from him anymore.

*Can edit if needed

The garrish creature looked to see men entering the hall & couldn't refrain from a razor toothed grin. "I couldn't sssay, Massster. It's a pleasssure to ssseee you again," he drawled on up until his eyes saw Mayberry. Coat or not, Imp cackled like he oft did when he knew what was going on. "Missster Mayberry, welcome...farewell." He was gone with the smell of brimstone & was replaced with the presence of Gabrielle in their midst.

Her face was void of color as she saw the two men next to one another. The instructions clearly had been lost in translation - she swallowed a lump of spit in her throat, realizing she was the hostess. God save her. "Thank you, Gwydion...they're quite lovely," she said as she took the flowers, only for Imp to grab them & disappeared again. Her eyes looked to her father & could not help but think what she had done. The original intent was to put Vlad on the spot for being an arse in the past & well...Gabrielle felt the one upon the spot. Her cheeks tinged a rouge color while she still looked stark white from seeing the two men together for the first time in twenty six years.

"Pardon the formalities, but is Kabir on his way? Dinner won't be ready until seven; shall we head to the parlor?" she mustered through, feeling completely empty on many levels. Her eyes looked to Gwydion as if she regretted this entire dinner suddenly. She wanted reassurance but if either one showed it, the other could start up the past or even the current situation by provoking questions. A sigh escaped her lips. "If you would excuse me a moment." She turned & headed to the nearest room, opened the door to enter it & then shut it, locking it as she slid down its frame. She closed her eyes as she buried her face into her hands - she was a coward in a strong willed woman's body.

((PG Warning...a mildly impolite word is included. ))

"Mr. Dragulia. Pleased, of course. How have you been the last... twenty-five years? Incredible, is it already so long? Time flies, eh?"

Vlad shook Mayberry’s hand but studied him in ominous silence, asking himself if this was polite conversation, or a disingenuous reminder that Vlad was now officially an Old Fart. He suspected the latter.

Which could not help but remind him of why he had disapproved of Mayberry in the first place, back when the toymaker was still at Hogwarts and dating Vlad’s little girl. From the looks of things, Mayberry had changed very little in the past quarter century. He still seemed to prefer clothing that would not have looked out of place on a Giant Man-Eating Orchid...

Nevertheless...had Vlad been a Leglimens as well as an Occlumens, he and Mayberry would have found one thing they agreed on. Gabie was a self-confident woman who didn´t take her orders from her father anymore. Which was just as it should be.

And it was also true that Gabie was right about at least one thing. Vlad had been an arse in the past, and he badly wanted to make amends.

“Imp!” he said, not loudly but in the sort of voice which would brook no nonsense.

The Elf materialized on the spot. “Yesss, Massster?” he responded, drawing out the hisses even more than usual.

“Please show Mr. Mayberry to the Drawing Room, and serve him brandy, cigars, or whatever else he desires.” Except the family silver, he added silently. He might have to tolerate Mayberry’s presence tonight, but this did not mean that he had to trust him.

“I shall go and see what is keeping Gabrielle. Colonel Kabir will be arriving momentarily. If he comes before Gabrielle is ready for us, please make him at home, and tell him we shall be along presently.”

Imp bowed portentously. “As you wisssh, Masssster.” He beckoned to Mayberry, and started up the hall. “Thiss way, Ssssir...”

That taken care of, Vlad went straight to the room where his daughter had barricaded herself, and rapped sharply upon the door. “Gabriella!” He only used the Italian version of her name when he was expecting trouble...

He rapped again. “Gabie! I know you’re in there!”

Vlad was quite right in thinking that Gwydion had not changed at all. Oh, his outward appearance had changed – he was 43 now, his hair was greying and the laughter lines around his eyes had deepened over the last few years; no, he was clearly no spring chicken anymore. But inwardly, he was the same childish muddlehead he had always been, apparating around the world as if it were a gigantic playground where he wanted to try out all the toys, looking at every new thing he encountered with the fascination of a six-year-old and soaking up experiences as people assumed only little children could.

As for Vlad, he hadn´t changed that much either, in Gwydion´s eyes. To him, Gabie´s father had always been old, and now he was even older - no big deal really. He had always been stern, too, and now – and Gwydion was not surprised – he was even sterner. Gwydion certainly hadn´t expected a hearty welcome from Gabie´s father, but that he wouldn´t even give him a proper greeting was rather more disappointing than he had feared. For Gabie´s sake, he would put up with it for now, but if the man decided to treat him so disrespectfully for the rest of the evening, he would consider standing up and leaving… after all, he wasn´t an easily intimidated school boy anymore. Of course, Gwydion had never been easily intimidated, but that was beside the point. What mattered was that there had been a time when Vlad´s word had held enough power to drive them apart, and that this time was over, at least as far as Gwydion was concerned.

His attention turned to Gabie as she excused herself, slightly pale around the nose, he thought, and disappeared into an adjacent room. The house elf popped back up and was given orders by Vlad, and Gwydion smiled brightly at the creature (whose company he enjoyed better than Vlad´s in any case).

“Brandy and cigars sounds fabulous”, Gwydion grinned. “For a start…”

He followed the elf to the Drawing Room, not bothering to keep his voice down and rather certain that Vlad could hear him very well as he asked Imp “Whatever I desire, eh? Hm, what have you got on offer?”

Though not in uniform, Colonel Kabir was conservatively dressed; in a dark green woolen tunic, black fleece-lined vest, and khaki trousers, tucked into well-worn riding boots. To ward off the cold he wore a knee-length black Astrakhan coat and matching curly lambswool cap, which caught a few snowflakes as he paused in the doorway. He had brought a bouquet of yellow roses for his hostess; and he examined them closely, hoping the preservation charm the florist had put on them would hold up.

Taking a deep breath, Ahmed raised the brass knocker, in the form of a roaring lion's head. Predictably, the lion actually roared; and though Ahmed was not surprised by this still he was startled by how loud it was, and he jumped slightly.

To his embarrassment he noticed a small figure suddenly standing there. Ahmed had seen many House Elves in his time but there was something distinctly different about this one. For one thing, the smell of brimstone. An Ifrit, perhaps? It would not surprise him a bit if the Dragulia clan, which lived on the borderlands of the old Ottoman Empire, might have somehow obtained servants from the magical East...

As if reading his thoughts, the odd little creature bowed low, touching first his heart and then his forehead, though beneath the respectful gesture there was something of mockery. Nevertheless, Ahmed returned the salaam, with all sincerity.

"I believe I am expected," he told the Elf...Djinn...whatever Imp actually was.

"Yesss, Colonel," responded Imp, taking the roses and snapping his fingers. They vanished. "You are indeed exssspected...and mossst welcome! The massster and Misss Gabrielle are...occupied at the moment, but I have orderss to show you to the Drawing Room until dinner is ssserved. They will be along directly. But in the meantime, if you will be sso good as to follow me, Sssir..."

Ahmed followed the servant into a tasteful, candle-lit room where a table sat waiting, piled with trays of hors d'oeuvres including caviar, as well as assorted bottles, glasses and a thermidor full of cigars. Knowing Vlad there would be nothing but the best...

A man Ahmed had never seen before was there examining the bottles, cigars and snacks. Then suddenly the roses, now in a silver vase,  reappeared on the table. Ahmed was somewhat surprised to observe that his gift to the hostess was color-co-ordinated with the stranger's outfit.

"Hello," Ahmed said , extending his hand a bit shyly. "I am Kabir Ahmed."

He did not introduce himself as Colonel, but he did stand straight with full military bearing, as if at attention. This was a thing he often did when he felt awkward. After all, here he was,  faced with a stranger, with no idea where his host was or how long Vlad would be detained.

Again as if reading his mind, Imp held out a glass.  Ahmed should have looked closer at what was in that glass, but it did not occur to him to even suspect that a servant would deliberately sabotage him.

But...considering that he had already guessed that this particular servant was an Ifrit...perhaps it should have.

He downed the glass ...Firewhiskey, neat... in a single gulp. And then he began coughing and wheezing....

The brandy was excellent, as was the cigar. Gwydion had also procured a copy of the Daily Prophet and one single toothpick from the little house elf. He tucked the toothpick into his suit pocket for later and settled himself in one of the comfortable chairs, the glass of brandy next to him on an ornate coffee table, cigar in hand, and started to browse through the paper.

Runespoor smuggling was all over the headlines again… Gwydion sighed and shook his head a little. They had interrogated him too, as if he would have anything to do with such things… but the ministry was always so close-minded, there were only two categories for them, ministry allies and ministry enemies, and there was little doubt in which category Gwydion Mayberry fell for them… and so he was connected to Runespoor smuggling, wonderful. He was sure that they were keeping him under surveillance even now. He had to admit, though, that he found their little cat-and-mouse-games rather enjoyable; he might even have let drop a hint or two that made them think they were on the right track by watching him. It would be all the more delightful to see them stumble over their own feet as they tried to construct circumstantial evidence that connected him to the case, based on the completely fabricated indices he had laid out for them… only to watch their house of cards collapse onto itself when they realized they had based their assumptions on hot air only.

Gwydion chuckled silently as he skimmed the Runespoor article, in which one of his favourite ministry officials was cited saying “I daresay that we know a lot more now than we´ve known only a week ago… in fact, we have circled in several suspects, which we will be arresting when we´ve collected enough evidence. Sooner rather than later, mark my words.”

Indeed… Gwydion laid the newspaper aside and stretched, suddenly in a much better mood than before. He went over to the shelves lined with various refreshments of the edible and liquid kind and looked them over, feeling a bit of a pull in his stomach. But it wouldn´t be polite to eat anything before dinner, even though the confectionary looked very tempting… before his stomach won the battle with his manners, however, the door opened and another man was led inside by the little house elf, a military man if his stance was any indication. Gwydion´s eyebrows twitched just the slightest bit. He wasn´t fond of the military, not at all; he thought it a hierarchical system that brutally suppressed any sign of individuality or gentleness, a system that crushed the human soul and did not aid to make the world a better place, but a worse one, no matter what military leaders claimed.

However, Gwydion was too individualistic himself to deny someone their individuality just because they liked to march in lockstep. It might be that they did not know better, that they had never known another life, that wherever they came from life was cruel and harsh and not comparable to the relative safeness Gwydion had grown up in. He didn´t judge people that readily.

He smiled broadly at the newcomer and took his hand, shaking it a bit more vigorously than strictly appropriate.

“Peace, brother. Gwydion Mayberry´s the name. Pleased to meet you, I am. Ahmed, eh? I think the name rings a – oh dear…”

Kabir Ahmed had begun wheezing and coughing and was now starting to look slightly blue in the face, too. Gwydion jumped to his side and gave the man a few thumps between the shoulder blades,  all the while searching his many pockets for his wand. He ultimately found it in his left inner suit pocket (of course, being right handed it made sense that he should carry his wand somewhere on his left) and started waving it about. What was that incantation that he had learned in New Zealand again? It was helpful in case one of the giant flying spiders there bit you, which led to anxiety and breathlessness… now Gwydion knew of course that no giant spider had bit Kabir Ahmed, but the symptoms were quite similar, and there was no question that something had to be done, and quick…

“Respirate!”

Hopefully that would make the man regain his breath – that or the hits between the shoulder blades… otherwise Gwydion would have to run out for help, and that would be an unnecessarily dramatic start of the evening…

She felt like she was seven once more, dressed in a starchy crimson dress that her grandmother Carmina had bought when first meeting Vedir & the Prideaux family - she had also ran off in an act of defiance, shortly after Vedir had presented himself a 'gentleman,' complete with a kiss to her wrist. Carmina had been quite irate by the spectacle & it seemed Vlad was taking that position over.

"Dio! I am not seven - don't call me that!" she moaned, pulling herself up off the door, recomposing her wits before opening the door. She was certain a lecture would be heard sooner or later in being a poor hostess but frankly, she didn't give a damn. "Here I am, happy, padrino?" she spat back for calling her by the Italian variation of her name. "Surprise on Gwydion, however, we'll leave that for later. Excuse me, sil vous plait." She knew her father easily could take ahold of his sudden insubordinate child, but if he was wise, he'd leave it be, especially now seeing her walk on back to the parlor. "Handful, isn't sssssshe, Massster."

. . .

Gabrielle entered the parlor to see Kabir choking on liquor & Gwyn administering spells to clear throat passageways. "Many sorries, lovelies; it seems nerves have the best of me tonight. I believe we are all now here & if you wish, dinner will be served momentarily. I promise no terrifying charred meats or putrid puddings." A laugh escaped from her lips as she looked at the men, feeling as though she were giving a Dumbledore start of term feast. "Only the best for friends near & dear to my heart...and by best, don't expect roe. I don't think that would be a good start, would you?"

....

Imp was looking at Vlad as though he would feed him or be the meal himself. "Missssstress saysssss dinner ssssoon. Are you dissspleasssed? You look assss though you've swallowed hemlock, Masssster." The half-breed of a house elf & ifrit was very wise indeed.

"Dio! I am not seven - don't call me that!"

Vlad sighed. Despite his behavior, he was well-aware that his daughter was no longer that little girl in the crimson dress, starched petticoats and patent leather shoes. Not that things had gone so well on that occasion either...

As he followed Gabie down the hall to the drawing room, it occurred to him that the blood of the Borgias, mingled with that of the Dragulias plus a touch of the Highland Murrays added for spice, had created a most...explosive mixture.

"Surprise on Gwydion, indeed,” he muttered, most likely loud enough for her to hear him. However, it was certainly best to leave that discussion till later.

"Handful, isn't sssssshe, Massster."

Vlad gave Imp a baleful glance. “A case of the pot and the kettle,” he replied. “Or is it the chicken and the egg?” Whatever it was, whenever there was any sort of conspiracy pitting Quincy or Gabie against him, somehow Imp was always involved, up to his scrawny neck.

"Many sorries, lovelies; it seems nerves have the best of me tonight. I believe we are all now here & if you wish, dinner will be served momentarily. I promise no terrifying charred meats or putrid puddings.”

Vlad was reasonably sure that the food would be safe, since so far as he knew, the chef had never tried to sabotage him.

However...

“Ahmed, are you all right?” He picked up the empty shot glass and sniffed it. “Ogden’s.”

He knew that Ahmed would not have drunk Fire Whiskey, had he known what it was. Though the Ahmadiya sect was not as strict about alcohol as most Muslims, as a practitioner Ahmed would not knowingly have touched anything stronger than a glass of wine at dinner, or perhaps a single shot of brandy.

Vlad had made sure that the servants were all aware of this; so he turned an appraising glance upon Imp. The ungrateful creature made a small noise, something like “Eep!” and backed a step away.

"Missssstress saysssss dinner ssssoon,” he quavered...or more accurately, pretended to quaver. “Are you dissspleasssed? You look assss though you've swallowed hemlock, Masssster."

There was a long silence, while Vlad’s eyes bored into Imp’s. “Displeased?” he responded glacially. “Not...yet. However...should there be any further...mishaps...during this dinner...I may just find a dose of that hemlock for...someone else.”

“I am sure that won’t be necessary,” Ahmed said hastily. “It was a misunderstanding, nothing more. At worst it was just a prank. It might even have been kindly meant. After all,” he confessed, “our hostess is not alone in, erm...feeling a bit nervous tonight. Our friend may have thought a bit of Ogden’s might...loosen me up a bit.”

“Thank you, Sir,” he added, nodding politely to Gwydion Mayberry. “I am fine now, really. I was simply not prepared for that first sip. It is...rather strong, if one isn’t expecting it.”

He glanced shyly toward the roses, hoping that Gabie would like them. He was totally oblivious to the bee crawling inside the largest and showiest blossom...

The poor, poor guy. To be reacting so badly to a single sip of fire whiskey... what a terrible fate. Gwydion tilted his head as he regarded the man with a glance that was more than a little tinted with pity.

"Good to hear you´re all right, my friend, I was afraid I might have to perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation," Gwydion replied with a grin. He caught the look Kabir gave the roses, and while he hadn´t paid them any attention when they appeared in the vase, now he made the connection... so Gwydion wasn´t the only one who had brought Gabie flowers tonight. Might he even have competition in this man who had nearly collapsed from a few drops of Ogden´s?

Gwydion´s stance was relaxed, he had his hands in his pockets and an expression of polite concern on his face, but he couldn´t prevent his thoughts from wandering in a somewhat disturbing direction... so the only two other dinner guest were Gabie´s father and a guy who was - maybe - interested in Gabie. It didn´t require a diviner to suspect that there was something very rotten indeed going on in the state of Denmark... or in Wiltshire, as it were. Inwardly, Gwydion sighed. He really was tired of such games - if he wasn´t doing Vlad wrong and it was a game indeed, the game of presenting her a respectable, formidable upper-class gentleman and a vagabond toymaker constantly on the verge of being nicked by the ministry, thus making plain exactly which one would be the better choice. Really, Vlad should know by now that Gabie´s choices weren´t so easily predictable. Gwydion surely wouldn´t play along with this game. Gabie would do exactly what she deemed right, no need to interfere either way.

"Not to worry, Gabie. You know how I love charred meats. As for putrid puddings, I thought they were my specialty... why, you´ve stolen my recipe, darling!"

The darling escaped him before he could control himself. Gwydion instantly decided not to make it worse by trying to take it back; instead, he let it hang in the air for a few seconds before turning his smile to the other two men and inquiring pleasantly: "Well, shall we follow our gracious hostess to the feast then? I don´t know about you, but I am positively starved... I could eat a putrid pudding and might even ask for a second helping."

Gabrielle fought quite earnestly the urge to roll her eyes when listening to her father & Imp drawl on (and on and on) about the same ol' story, however the alluding that could be possibly on Gwydion made her eyes narrow sternly. How. Dare. He. How dare he still treat Gwydion so poorly after all this time! True, it was no better that she had dragged him into this somewhat willingly, only for her to be put off by the whole debacle before her. Where was Quince when you needed a devil's advocate, really.

She blushed more than slightly at being called 'darling' - it seemed both intentional & yet a sense of sarcasm could not go undetected. Her eyes looked to both floral arrangments, taking soon steps to inhale both of their scents. It was a very kind gesture, even if the bee buzzed away angrily when she swatted it away before smelling the roses & now, she was ready to take them for the meal.

Hopefully, Kabir's meal would be less dramatic than what it had been for his liquor. The same could not be said for Gwyn. "Oh do shut up, Gwyn," Gabrielle finally remarked, smirking mischievously all the way as she took the initiative to stand between both men, as if to clue in that they both could escort her. "Keep up your cheek & I'll make you eat in damp cellars. With Imp." She looked to Kabir with a warm & inviting smile, placing a kiss on his cheek. "Kabir, it is a pleasure to see you outside from work, love."

Her eyes looked soon to her father who always had that sourpussed expression when his only child seemed to make a fool of him (or anything similar in fashion) - it was a surprise to Gabie that to this day it had yet to freeze for eternity like that. "Oh, do lighten up, Vlad," she remarked, laughing sightly within (he'd no doubt furrow his brow about that), trying to encourage a new mannerism out of him, "it's not like we're in the Carpathians & we're hunting for horrid beasts. Don't be so droll."

Vlad had no suspicion what Gabie was thinking about his hemlock comment.  But while it was Imp, not Mayberry, that he was trying to intimidate into good behavior... in all fairness had he known his daughter believed he was threatening Gwydion, he would not have minded at all. Two birds with a single stone  was always good...

He looked on approvingly when his daughter gave Kabir a kiss on the cheek. Vlad knew that back in Mumbai, the young women working in the Ministry considered the Colonel to be quite a catch. Whenever he came in, they fluttered about him like Gopis around Krishna. The talk among the ladies was that he was brave, kind and handsome. And...most irresistable to young women with romantic hearts...he had a tragic past. So it might have been expected that when Kabir came to England, he would have a similar effect on the women here.

Of course women in England had different tastes. Especially Gabie, he thought...

"Oh, do lighten up, Vlad. It's not like we're in the Carpathians & we're hunting for horrid beasts. Don't be so droll."

Vlad tried. He really did. But...when she said that about horrid beasts...he could not forbear from glancing at Mayberry and raising an eyebrow.

Ahmed noticed Vlad's glance at  Mayberry and sighed inwardly. So...it was going to be one of those nights.

He gave Mayberry a sympathetic grin. After all his own father-in-law, a devout Hindu, had been most disapproving in the beginning. The man almost had apoplexy when he was told that his only daughter was marrying not just a Muslim, but a barbarian tribesman from the mountains...

"Thank you," he said to Gabie, and bent to kiss her hand. This was half good manners, half to hide that he was blushing after her kiss.

But he recovered quickly; and then he saw the Daily Prophet on the table. He recalled that Mayberry had been examining it when he arrived. Looking closer, he saw the word Runespoor in the headline, and winced involuntarily. Anyone who has ever experienced Runespoor poisoning does not soon forget it.

Ahmed...who had contacts with MLE on several continents...was suddenly reminded where he had previously heard the name Gwydion Mayberry. Since the man resisted being pigeonholed, certain overzealous young Aurors...the ones who liked everything to be in neat little boxes...were  certain that Mayberry could not be a simple toymaker. Mayberry had an international clientele, so according to the Young Lions on Level 2, he must certainly be involved in smuggling. And yes...Runespoor had been bandied about.

Smuggling was as old as the Silk Road. Only the cargo changed; and in the magical world even that had changed very little over the centuries. Ahmed's chief purpose in being here...a mission which was now most personal...was to find the British members of the smuggling ring he had detected before leaving India.

So...while he took the suspicions of the young Aurors with a grain of salt...Ahmed was wary as he eyed Mayberry with this thought in mind.

And unlike many from the Far East, Ahmed was not blessed with an inscrutable face...