April 8, 2009
7pm
Figaro's House in a London Suburb

"Mum! Stoppit!"  Figaro batted at his mother's hands.  Zelda Sellaphix had her wand out and was trying to put a part in Figaro's hair even while he was trying to rub some styling wax in it to achieve the opposite effect: hipster bedhead.

"You look like a hobo, Figaro.  Just let me..." she said tapping her wand on his head again.

"You're making me look stupid! We're going to Calaveras, not Pizza Express!"  He rubbed his head vigorously and when he stopped, he huffed his way out of the bathroom.  His mother watched him go with a tolerant smile.  It was good to get Figaro out of the house - he'd been home from Hogwarts only three days and already the combination of Figaro and his brother Frank had reached some sort of critical mass. 

He'd exchanged a few owls with a friend from school, Regina Greyson, and whatever passion stirs in the hearts of teenagers bored on their spring holiday had blossomed into a, 'we should totally do something'. 

And that something was to go to Calaveras in Diagon Alley.  It had taken some convincing, but his mum had finally agreed.  The plan was for Regina to meet them here at Fig's house and then his mom would Side-Along them to Diagon. 

"Where's my jacket! Frank! Take that off, I need it! Mum!"

When Reggie mentioned to her mother that she would be "doing something" with a friend from school, the look she'd given her daughter had been quite skeptical. Obviously the woman didn't really believe that she had any kids her age she considered friends. And really, who could blame her? Reggie had never really been the sociable type. But nevertheless after being reassured that the aforementioned friend's mother would be accompanying them and thus would provide some supervision, Mrs. Grayson agreed, and Reggie departed for Figaro's by bus.

Oh, did she forget to mention that Figaro was a boy? Oops. Her bad. Except not really. There was no way she was going to tell her mother she was meeting up with a boy. That would have just led to a zillion more questions and a long list of restrictions. Hell, she may have even tried to come with her despite Fig's mother already being their chaperone! That would have been so utterly embarrassing.

The bus ride didn't take long. Before she knew it she was stepping off at the designated bus stop and following the directions that were given to her via owl. The neighborhood itself was pretty nice. People were outside doing fairly mundane things -- walking their dogs or doing some gardening. She supposed this was one of those places where the most exciting thing that ever happened was when on of the housewives won a baking contest of some sort. How invigorating!

A left at the bent tree and a few more minute's stroll eventually put her at Fig's humble abode. Going up to the front door she grasped the brass knocker and banged it against the wooden surface a few times.

Figaro finally had his suit jacket back from his ten-year-old brother Frank, and was taking a lap around the house small house.  He collected up his wallet and found his other shoe, and the little pouch of galleons that his mum had given him for the night.  And lastly, his wand.  He was putting it up his sleeve just as the doorbell rang and Zelda Sellaphix went to answer.

Zelda was a witch in her 40s with dark eyes and hair, and large glasses at the end of her nose. 

"Regina, yes? Come in.  Fig's on his way."

Figaro appeared then out the kitchen still a little hurried and smiled.  "Hey, y'alright, Reggie?  Let's go."

Not much to stand on ceremony, Figaro led the way right back out of the house.  They had to walk to the end of the block to a good, quiet place to Apparate, but from there they could go directly to Diagon.    Zelda, sensing Regina was a young witch of few words, and knowing Figaro'd fill in any silences, followed at a socially acceptable distance behind the teenagers.

Figaro, striding quickly, hands in pockets, chattered on.  "Feel crazy saying so, but holiday's been awful dull.  Least at school there's quidditch and something going on.   I just can't wait until we're of age so all this mum nonsense can stop, yeah?"  He turned over his shoulder to his mum who raised an annoyed eyebrow.  She hoped he didn't think she wouldn't hall his pale little arse back home if he couldn't mind his elders.

Mrs. Sellaphix seemed pretty nice. Reggie nodded politely and thanked the older woman, doing the best to mind her manners. Standing in the entry foyer she fidgeted a bit as she waited for Fig to show up, eyes roaming around in an attempt to keep herself preoccupied. She probably should have made some sort of polite conversation with Fig's mother but... that just wasn't her style unfortunately. Hopefully she would understand and not be offended.

Fig eventually appeared, dressed rather nicely at that. Blinking, she looked down at what she was wearing and breathed a sigh of relief. For once she had dressed appropriately -- even if doing so was a pain. "Heya Fig." She said with a small wave, not saying much else as they then departed. When it became apparent that they'd be apparating, Reggie felt a small surge of excitement. She'd always wanted to experience the sensation for herself, being unable to do so until she was of age. Stupid wizarding world rules.

A pop, followed by a weird twisting feeling that was altogether disorienting, and they had arrived at their destination. Woah. That was something alright. After making sure she was intact she set off after Fig, casting a casual glance back at his mother who followed them just close enough to keep a watchful eye. Fig of course didn't wait long to let his annoyance over this arrangement be known, causing Reggie to smile sympathetically.

"You're right about the holiday. I was going stir crazy. And then my great aunt on my mum's side is supposed to come and visit before I head back to Hogwarts. She doesn't like me. At all." A groan escaped her lips afterwards, already thinking of how much restraint she'll have to show in order to not anger her mother who obviously didn't see anything wrong with the way Great Aunt Millicent shot subtle barbs in her elder daughter's direction.

"Sometimes I wish we were allowed to do magic out of school. I'd transfigure that woman into something nasty. Even if I am absolutely terrible at Transfiguration."

Diagon was hopping this time of evening, and Figaro's energy started to edge up.  He didn't so much walk as he did gambol like an excited puppy, looking in windows and staring at other people on the narrow street.  They passed a couple of classmates and he shot them a swagging rock'n'roll horns to indicate his pride at being on a proper date with the incomprehensible Regina Greyson.  Or with any human female. 

"Fig-"  His mother corrected him a few times, try and keep him moving along.  She really wanted to get them dropped off so she could meet her friends for tea.  A new episode of their favorite St. Mungo's drama was on the Wireless tonight and they all got together.  With her husband in Azkaban, and the tangle of paperwork to get through to re-open the shop, Zelda was having precious little time for normalcy.  Just relaxing and listening to the overly dramatic trevails of impossibly young and impossibly good-looking Healers solve impossibly complex St. Mungo's cases was just the escape she needed.

"Magic out of school is going to be wicked!" Figaro agreed with the enthusiasm of a young wizard who'd been thinking of nothing else.  Regina's wishes to quell her aunt only scratched the surface of Figaro's fantasies.  He clapped his hands once and said, "Hell yes.  Frankly, your lack of skill could just make it better.  What I come up with in that class is horrifying even when we're going for pincushions or coffee tables..." 

By that time they'd come upon the eerie facade of Calavaras.   Music floated out the double doors which were open to the summer night air.  Figaro stopped and turned to his mum.  "We got it, thanks.  Haveagoodnight."

Zelda, while interested in getting back, was still not going to just rush off without instilling in Figaro the proper precautions.  She put hands on either of his shoulders, and gave him a hard glare to ensure he gave her listen, and gave it proper. 

"Stay at the restaurant.  Meet me on time.  Tip your server.  Do not go to the shop."

"Yea, fine. Okay."

"Yes, ma'am."

Eyes roll.  "Yes, ma'am."

"Thank you." Then with a very pleasent smile. "Good night, Regina.  Lovely to meet you."

While Fig thought this was a proper date, Reggie... didn't. They were just two friends going to a nice restaurant to get some food into their bellies and talk about (hopefully) non-school related things. Yes, certainly nothing romantic there. And anyway, who said she had any sort of "feelings" for him? He was Figaro Sellaphix. The class clown who always mouthed off and annoyed those around him with his cheekiness. What was attractive about that? Someone on the outside looking in would probably point out that she was protesting a little too much -- and they would earn a hex right between the eyes for it, too.

Calavaras seemed to come up out of nowhere. Reggie stood beside Fig as Mrs. Sellaphix imparted some words of wisdom -- or warning more like it -- before bidding them goodbye. "Thank you. Nice meeting you too, ma'am." She said in a respectful tone, watching her walk off to leave them to their own devices. No more supervision. Watch out Diagon Alley. Two lively teenagers were now on the loose. Would things ever really be the same for this place after tonight?

"Shall we head in? I'm starving." That was an understatement. She hadn't really eaten anything all day save for a piece of toast and half an egg at breakfast. Her mum had accused her of dieting, which had kicked open about an hours worth of her trying to convince the panicky woman otherwise. Talk about jumping to the worst conclusions. "Hope this place has some really good food. I've been to fancy restaurants where the opposite was painfully true."

"Yeahyeah," Figaro agreed energetically, letting Regina lead the way through the impressive double doors into the restaurant.  Calaveras was known both as fine dining as well as great entertainment.  It has a red curtain, macabre vibe to it with lots of rich colors, covert booths, and the rumor floating around that the human skulls were real. 

Figaro's face was lit in a sly smile, thrilled to finally be out of the ho-hum suburban life, and back in Diagon Ally on his own.  The restaurant was thrumming.  Servers slinked through with trays tall on their shoulders, music was playing live, and the smells and dim lighting created an ambiance that just took him away. 

"Wicked," was the only word he had to describe it.

"Sellaphix," he told the hostess.  He didn't notice, but his last name made her look at him twice before she turned to lead them to a table, the menus hovering after her.

They got settled at a table for two, and Figaro sat himself down, elbows on the table, immediately inspecting the live flame in the middle of their table.

"This is dead excellent, Reg," he said, "You believe what they say?  That the owner is a cannibal? That the skulls are real?" 

This place was definitely "live". Reggie had never been to many restaurants quite like this one. Stepping out of the way of one of the servers she suddenly felt out of place. It was beyond ritzy here, and she was suddenly relieved that Fig was more than likely going to take care of the bill. She had only brought along a few galleons and sickles -- not nearly enough to pay for anything expensive.

The hostess showed them to their table soon enough. Reggie seated herself across from Fig, taking one of the hovering menus with a polite muttering of thanks. Blue eyes scanned the contents, occasionally peering up over at her companion. This was why she didn't eat out much. She could never narrow down just what sounded edible and what didn't. The names for the dishes never helped, either. Why couldn't they just come out and say what it was instead of dressing it up behind some fancy name? Blah, restaurants were exhausting!

"What? The owner is a cannibal?" Reggie raised a brow, showing her disbelief. "I know nothing about this place really, but I doubt that's true..." The wizarding world had its eccentricities, yes. But allowing an actual cannibal to own an eating establishment? No freakin' way. "I suppose you shouldn't order the chef's special if you feel that way then, huh?" She smirked lightly, eyes going back down to the menu.

Fig snorted a laugh.  "Yea, safer sticking with a salad.  But serious, that's what I've heard.  That she's got only one eye and ate a delivery man."  He shrugged and tapped the menu on the table as he only half paid attention to it.  He looked over his shoulder as a cloaked figure came in the front door, and the music stopped briefly up on stage where a woman was singing in a low voice.

Cigar smoke curled out of booths in dark corners, steaming dishes and flaming drinks passed by on a trey carrying itself.  Figaro couldn't be sure, but he thought he caught a glimpse of Minister of Magic Annwyl in his flashy white suits. 

It wasn't long until a server came up to their table, a young witch with severe eye make up, all dressed in black.  She asked them what they wanted to drink, and Figaro turned the menu around and around looking for drink selections.

"Do you have um, coffee...?"  He raised his eyebrows high at the server, who gave him a very slow blink as if to say, 'Of course we have... coffee..'  "And orange juice...?"  She blinked again at him and nodded her head.  She didn't have a pad of paper or anything in her hand, apparently just memorizing his order - fancy joint.

"Sounds like someone was pulling your leg, mate."  Reggie laughed also, wondering just how rumors like this got started. Honestly, a one eyed maneater owned Calaveras? She'd certainly have to see it to believe it. Settling back she set the menu aside and just drank in the surrounding ambiance. She frowned a bit when she spotted the cigar smoke wafting through the air. There was no way her clothes wouldn't reek of it, and walking into her parent's house in such a state would be extremely stupid. Maybe she could ask Mrs. Sellaphix to magic the smell out. She seemed like a pretty handy witch.

The server's arrival was a welcome one. Letting Fig take the lead she watched him pose a query about the very obvious availability of coffee and orange juice. Oh boy, now they really stuck out like sore thumbs. Hopefully no one would be asking them to produce IDs anytime soon. Clearing her throat to get the server's attention she tapped her finger on the surface of the menu.

"I'll just have some water, garnished with a lemon, please. We should be ready to order by the time you get back." There. Straight to the point. She cast Fig a quick look to reaffirm her words, hoping that she herself would be able to find something by the proposed deadline.

As their server left them, Figaro seemed unphased at his apparent lack of sophistication, and Regina was still the very portrait of a cool cucumber, taking all this macabre fanciness in stride.  Left alone again at their table for two, Figaro's attention was still being stolen away from time to time to glance towards a peal of laughter from one of the private booths, or a flash of green flames from the bar, or a hot break in the music over on the small stage.  The whole environment was heady, lush, and darkly vibrant.  There was too much to look at. 

Sitting still was like torture.  But Regina was so smooth and nonplussed that her very posture reminded him he was supposed to be acting more mature and less like the curiosity-riddled adolescent he was. 

He undid the rolled up silverware in the black cloth napkin and fiddled with it absently as he began to talk.  "So what are your summer plans?  My mum's going to make me get a job."  He didn't seem to despondant about it, just bored.  "If I can't find one, I'll be working at the Apothecary for sure."

The Apothecary, of course, was Sellaphix Apothecary.  It was located just inside Knockturn, and despite being boarded up for the last few months, had been in his family for three generations.  Zelda planned to re-open it, even after the incarceration of her husband, once summer was around and she had Figaro back in London.

"Summer plans?" She repeated, looking at him in slight confusion. She really hadn't put much thought into anything of the sort. Other than taking a much deserved break after OWLs were over Reggie didn't know what the heck else she'd be doing. "We may go on holiday. I dunno. Mum wants us to go to some beach for a few days. I hate that sort of thing." She pulled a face, doing her best to show her distaste. But she wasn't being totally honest with herself. In truth, she really didn't mind those family getaways all that much. The rebellious teenager in her put up a fight every time though that was mostly just for show.

"I don't think I could stand having a job over the summer. I like to lay about too much." She confessed, wondering how Fig could be seriously considering becoming employed. "I guess working here in Diagon wouldn't be too bad, though. It'd be better than working at some silly ice cream shop in London proper where fussy parents come traipsing through with their snot-nosed brats."

Yeah, working in the wizarding world would be way better. Or so she told herself, anyway. With two more years of schooling left after this one the time to start turning her eyes towards a suitable career was looming ever closer. And as much as she wanted to just roll over and play dead she knew that wouldn't be a very effective, worthwhile strategy.

Regina hated the beach?  The beach was wicked.  Figaro cocked an eyebrow at the strange girl but just chalked it up to Reggie being Not Impressed Reggie. 

"My choice is which job, not whether I will have one," Figaro clarified without any real desperation.  He could never just lay about all summer; he'd get bored at just staying home in his neighborhood.  If he was honest, he preferred Hogwarts over summer holiday merely for the level of stimulation.  Although in the summer, there were concerts, Quidditch matches if he could get to them, and ever more freedom to stay out on summer nights.  I

"But yea - working in Diagon is gonna be the way to go.  Maybe get to a 3OS concert if I make some money.  Was excellent having them at the Valentine's Day thing, but I'd love to see them really do their thing at a proper - oh what the hell!"

Figaro interrupted himself with a breathy interjection.  He dropped low, his tie landing on his empty side plate, and he craned his neck around another table.

"Is that...?" He stuck his fist into his mouth and muttered something again.  He took a glance at Regina to see if she was as properly shocked as he was.

This very well could be foolish.  It was debatable whether it was more or less foolish than showing up at his pub in Knockturn.  Black Chimaera was more foolish in the respect that the Ministry was probably expecting him to show up there.  This was probably more foolish in the sense that there were fewer folks to watch his back.  So, was one really more careless than the other?  He supposed that would largely depend on whether he got out of here unscathed. 

But, a contact had needed to pass something off to him - something they preferred to avoid sending by owl.  Just in case someone had seen him around the Chimaera at Dazmond's party, he wasn't going to risk going back there any time soon.  Meredith's place was just shady enough to provide some level of ... what?  Not really protection or watching one's back.  It just wasn't the Leaky, either.  Or, the tea shop in the Ministry of Magic. 

The big, long black hooded cloak that had become a mainstay in Cinaed's current wardrobe only hid the details of his appearance.  No amount of loose, dark folds of cloth were going to conceal his size nor bulk.  Not without polyjuice.  And, he had to preserve what little he had left of his current stocks for the upcoming endeavors over the next few days. 

Hood pulled down over his head and beard tucked securely inside his cloak, Cinaed slipped in through the side door and scanned the crowd.  An older looking witch sat at a booth by an open window with three drinks on the table: a glass of milk, a glass of water and a triple shot of firewhiskey.  Three common drinks that were unlikely to be seen in each other's company. 

Cinaed slipped into the booth opposite the witch and took up the glass of whiskey. 

Figaro was still staring at the spot in the room where he'd seen the unmistakable giant figure of Cinaed Tawse - that had to have been him.  He'd only seen his face under the hood out of the corner of his eye, and just for a second, but ever since Figaro had spent a very intense evening in the company of the Ministry's Most Wanted Murderer, he knew he'd never forget his face. 

"Reg, shit, did you see...?" he hissed, still poised with his neck craned.  "I think I saw Ci-"  he choked his voice down to a barely audible tone as he sank back down into his seat.  The server had just come by to drop off a cheese and lavosh plate.  When she left a moment or to later, Figaro finished his thought.  The name of the culprit.

"Cinaed Tawse." 

He searched her face for some kind of confirmation.  Had she seen him too?