"BEWARE, AS THE MONTH TURNS TO JUNE!" proclaimed a figure in white, cowled robes. The face could not be seen. Witches and wizards had stopped in the streets at (his? presuming "him" for now, the voice sounds male) words, ringing along Diagon Alley. "MAGIC HAS BLINDED YOU! YOU BELIEVE YOURSELVES INVINCIBLE TO THE HANDS OF FATE! WOE TO THOSE THAT DO NOT HEED MY WARNING. (how melodramatic, sure seems to be big of himself. is this scripted? could' sworn i've heard this on the young and the restless) I FORSEE TRAGEDIES THAT WILL SHAPE US ALL, IF WE DO NOT DIVINE WHAT OUR FATE IS TO BE FOR OURSELVES AND NOT DECREED BY THE HANDS OF GOVERNMENT. (hands? that's an odd way of saying it. shouldn't it be from the mouth of government?)"

Some amongst the crowd looked shocked. Others were paused, halfway between grabbing for their wands or turning away. The figure raised an arm, pointing to a shop front: the Magical Menagerie. "WHAT HAS HAPPENED OCTOBER LAST WILL OCCUR AGAIN. THE DARK CONSPIRING FORCES CAN NO LONGER HIDE IN THE ALLEYWAYS OF SHADOW. (yeah yeah knockturn alley. geez, lay it on thick why don't you? mental note, check reports of major phenomena from last october) AS THE CLOCK STRIKES FOUR HISTORY WILL REPEAT IN SMALLER SCALE."

The white cowled figure strode off, unhindered by the stunned audience, until it disappeared after a turn...

Cut ahead to the same scene with lengthened shadows. No cowled figure but there was a crowd of onlookers deliberately loitering around the street by the Magical Menagerie to see if anything became of this strange prediction. It was 3:54 PM, almost 1600. (skip ahead here)

As distant bell chimes tolled out the hour, a massive fireball erupted from the upper levels of the Menagerie, raining glass unto the stunned crowd below. At once the chatter became excited, those that had seen the prophet saying that this was the event, others shrieking out defensive of healing spells because of the glass. Two wizards pounded on the door of the Menagerie until a soot covered worker answered.

"What was that?" asked one of the wizards.

The worker coughed. "A cage of salamanders was left open. They got to excited--"

"Did you not heed the words of the cowled figure?" the other door knocker broke in. "He said dark forces would conspire this explosion!"

"Cowled figure?" the ashen worker asked, having never seen nor heard of the early morn prophecy. "Dark forces? It was salamanders! Get enough of them together and anything will blow up! You should see them in breedin' season..."

/:/:/:/:/

And that was all that needed saying. Sissel Jowd capped the small, portable pensieve that currently held the memories of two eyewitnesses to this bizarre "cowled figure" and the results of his prediction as they happened yesterday, Thursday the 23rd.

So, the question posed itself: Legitimate Seer? Or a carefully crafted way of causing some malignant event and then going back to brag about it?

Sissel propped his feet on the desk, white trainers with orange stripes. He pulled up the sleeve from his wrist, glancing to four clocks and a hourglass, each showing a different time, embedded along an armband. By those averages he could kill a few more minutes before he needed to really get to work.

But then, theoretically, you had all the time you needed in the Time Travel Investigation & Regulation Bureau.

Cillian rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he downed another long gulp of his coffee. He was still getting used to the early morning hours the Ministry expected of him. While his short stint at Hogwarts had him on a regular schedule he had been teaching an elective and only had a few classes to deal with, ones that didn't require him to be up at the crack of dawn. Not to mention Penelope had a habit of keeping him up late. The wily redhead had quickly integrated herself into his life and before he knew it she had moved into his cozy little flat overtop his previous place of employment - The Inner Eye in Hogsmede. Cillian was still having a hard time believing her to be genuine in her feelings for him and was more likely to think her a freeloader just looking for a place to stay rent free.

He sighed and turned another corner. He hadn't had time to learn where everything was within the Ministry. His job didn't really require him to visit other departments and so it was much to his surprise when he had been summoned to visit a Mr. Jowd on Level Six: Department of Magical Transportation.  The little flying airplane that had zipped through the hall of prophecies so fast he was sure it was going to knock off a few of the crystal orbs hadn't said much other than his presence was needed.

Cillian stifled a yawn as he finally tracked down the right desk and was surprised at what he saw. His hazel eyes studied the sneakers for a long moment before regarding the rest of the man. At least he was happy to note that he wasn't the only one that had no need for traditional wizarding garb - having worn a pair of jeans and a t shirt to work himself.

"Mr. Jowd? Me name's Cillian Cuthber', ah was told ta com see ye." He glanced around the man's office for a moment, "I'm thee new Keepa o' Prophecies downstairs, Imma Seer as well."

Right on the tick...

Sissel was staring up and down the length of office corridor. The one odd thing about TTI was how there were too many desks in the place. Work offices with this low of staff would be considered bankrupt in the muggle world. But the bureau was surprisingly easy to maintain on such a minimal staff, what with everyone working full work days condensed into a span of a few time wrapped hours so it looked like nobody was in.

Besides, it was early.

And shambling in was, to Sissel's knowledge, somebody still within their first month at the ministry.


Either this man had one of the greatest accents ever or he was sleep deprived. Sissel stood for a hand shake. "Call me Sissel, Mr. Jowd is my dad. You're a Seer too, that's an added bonus. I know all the Divination stuff but I can't legitimately see the future, just detect the patterns, ya know."

He sat again, uncapping the diminutive penseive. "Your consultation is greatly appreciated in this matter. There's only two memories in here so not much to look at. But basically you and I are to determine if this guy is faking."

Sissel let Cillian observe the penseive. Afterwards he guessed at the first curiosity the young Seer would have. "Kinda overblown to involve level nine but you never know. Can't really call it much of a prophecy anyways, when it comes true about five hours later."

Cillian nodded making note to use the man's given name as he returned the offered hand shake. He was still wildly curious as to why he had been called up to level six, his curiosity soon abated as he was handed the mini compact pensieve. Cillian couldn't help but marvel at the small device, an invention that had no doubt come out of Level Nine itself. He casually wondered which one of the unspeakables he had met so far had worked on this little beauty.

"Aye." He nodded again before observing the memories stored in the small container. He rubbed at the soft stubble that was starting to grow in. Had Level Nine suspected that he might be a true seer he imagined he would have been called to this matter sooner so that he could record the prophecy as it happened.

Sissell had a point though, there wasn't much foreboding to the tale when it only came to pass mere hours after it was proclaimed. Even in the last month since becoming a part of the Department of mysteries Cillian had investigated at least four new prophecies having only recorded one of them as a truth. The one know sitting amoungst the shelves in his museum of captures predictions was supposed to pass sometime in the next decade and wasn't entirely pleasant.

As the second memory faded he handed it back to Sissell and rubbed his chin again, "In me exper'ence mos' seers don' even know 'bout their gifts." He contemplated for a moment, "Is Leva Two involved at all? Seems lika scam ta me. Maybe ye shuld look at disgruntled employees perhaps thee store had sumthin o' value worth takin durin a good distraction." He looked to the older man eager to know his thoughts on the occurrence.

Cillian wouldn't exactly call himself an expert in the field. Not yet at least. After Hogwarts he had travelled around to many countries learning all he could about as many different types of divination and oracles and seers as he could. He did it as much for a career choice as he did for his own sake. He had lost a whole year of his life because of his 'gifts' and needed to find some kind of explanation as to why he was different.

Sissel shrugged. "It does look like a scam. But level two has enough on their plate." Although Sissel had a feeling there was something...off about this cowled figure and he or she may have something to do with one of level two's major cases.

"Well, this occurrence is petty enough that it didn't show up on the Ministry's radar until today. I mean, what were you doing yesterday? I know I worked a full shift with no notice of hinky business going on in Diagon Alley."

Cillian shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, "I was in thee hall all day doin a whollotta nuthin." He scratched at his chin again and narrowed his eyes taking another glimpse at the two brief memories. He had already concluded that this didn't qualify as a prophecy, at least nothing of any importance. However there was something about it all that just didn't sit right with him.

If it was all just a show, be it by a disgruntled employee or someone who wanted to swipe something of value in the confusion, why all the theatrics? If you were angry with your employer for getting sacked he understood the explosion as pay back but why warn people ahead of time that it was going to happen? Likewise if you needed to cause a distraction to swipe something valuable why go through the trouble of making sure there were witnesses?

He turned his narrowed gaze to Sissel once more, "Sumthin's jus not addin up." He placed the small device on the other man's desk, "Why go thru all thee truble? Wha does 'e hafta gain from all this?"

"The very matter of the question precisely," Sissel said. "If it's just a way of getting back at the menagerie, have the explosion without announcing it. If you're going to be a Seer, or pretend to be one, you'd want to predict something big. It almost seems as if this is..."

"...a test run." Sissel fell silent, an odd look in his eyes as he stared off past Cilian's shoulder.

In an abrupt change, Sissel stood, grinning. "How about something for early tea? A drink or snack cake? I insist, it's my treat." He led Cilian away from his desk.

Cillian was slightly taken aback by the man's sudden change of topic and mood. Then again he should know by now not to be surprised by the eccentricities of those employed by the Ministry. After all he supposed it was actually part of the job description within the Department of Mysteries, why not for other departments as well? He didn't exactly consider himself to be eccentric but he wasn't without oddities of his own.

He simply nodded and gestured for the older man to lead the way, "Sounds good ta me." He looked at the coffee he had been holding and finished what was left of it. He supposed a light snack would do him well and getting away from desks and offices would help both of them to think more on the matter at hand. He always found office spaces to be stifling. It was why he had done everything he could to avoid ending up in one after Hogwarts.

As he walked with Sissel towards the lifts to take them to wherever it was the man wished to go for said early tea and snack he thought back once more to the 'case' as it were, "Ye mentioned test run? Ye think mebbe 'e's seein' if people believe 'im firs before makin any attempt at a real prophecy?"

"Sounds good ta me," Cillian answered as Sissel led the way to the lifts.

"Excellent," Sissel replied. Finding no queue he boarded a lift and held the gate of Cilian.

"Ye mentioned test run?" Cilian asked before boarding "Ye think mebbe 'e's seein' if people believe 'im firs before makin any attempt at a real prophecy?"

"Could be, could be," Sissel mused as the lift started. He glanced his armband, looking at one of the watches.

1:45 PM

The lift stopped and Sissel got out but they were not on the Atrium yet. Instead they were on Level 7, and Sissel was hightailing it for the water closet.

"Have to get something taken care of," Sissel explained. "Care to join me Cilian? Wash your hands before we eat?"

Cillian stood in quiet contemplation as he rode the lift. While his thoughts should have been on the 'case' he found them wandering back to Penelope and what she might be up to this time of day. He glanced at his own watch. She was probably at work at Ms Puddlefoot's right now. She usually worked afternoons at the small tea shop anyways. Then she'd go home and wait for him to return home. It still made him wonder how all of this had managed to happen so fast. It had only been months since they first started dating . . .

Cillian was ripped from his troubling thoughts as the lift shuttered to a halt. He stepped out and looked around a little surprised to find himself not at the Atrium as he was expecting but on yet another floor. He glanced around trying to determine where he was when Sissel asked him a question, one he wasn't quite paying attention to, "Yeah sure mate." He followed the other man into what he soon realized was the washroom.

Instead of alerting the other man to the fact that he had been so disoriented - he'd swear he'd never get a hang of navigating this building - that he had no idea what he was agreeing to he went to the sink and started washing his hands as was suggested of him.

"In regards to the case at hand," Sissel said, changing tact again as Cilian went about washing his hands. "There is one way of finding out what that cowled figure was really up to."

He paused, letting Cilian dry off. Sissel went about checking stall doors, making sure no one else was using the washroom. "But I promise before that we'll fit in that snack, I'm still buying."

Sissel worked up one of his sleeves, revealing all the watches along his armband. There was also a small hourglass set in a ring of metal. With a touch it popped upwards, the axle supported by spring loaded arms.

He moved beside Cilian, gripping his right arm around him tightly as if to give him a noogie, Sissel's wrist at about Cilian's chest. "If this is your first time," Sissel whispered, "I suggest keeping your eyes closed if you feel nauseous."

Sissel flipped the tiny hourglass, letting it spin for a great number of times before setting it back in place.

And turning back time...

/:/:/:/:/

Thursday, April 23, 10:46 AM

Sissel broke off from Cilian, checking the stalls again for any other bathroom users. "Well, we lucked out on finding a secluded place."

Cillian had just enough time to think again on the eccentricities of the man beside him before he was put in a shoulder lock and held tightly. Amoungst feeling incredibly uncomfortable he was beyond confused. He looked at the man once again trying to figure out what he was saying. Before he knew it the world was spinning around him in blurs of colour and motion. The door to the bathroom rapidly opened and closed as did the stall doors. Blurs of former occupants danced before his eyes. The light faded through the windows and brightened up the room again.

When Sissel let go of him Cillian doubled over and began to cough trying to bring his head back together. He had never travelled through time before though he wasn't unaware of the device used to do so. He straightened up and rubbed his temples trying to rid himself of the blurred visions of the past days events.

When he was told to come to the Department of Magical Transportation he wasn't aware that also included trips through time. He turned his attention back to Sissel, "Time turna? Merlin tha' was intense." He shook his head again and sighed,

"So off ta Diagon then?"

Sissel cocked an eyebrow. "You're made of sterner stuff then I thought, Cilian. If you ever get bored in the Hall of Prophecies send me a memo, I could arrange for transfer papers."

Sissel opened the door to the hall tentatively, poking his head out. "Once we hit the Atrium we'll need to dash out fast. But yes, next stop Diagon Alley. We have 46 minutes until our "cowled figure" makes his presentation. I'm assuming you got to work early on the 23rd?" Although it was "today" that was beside the point.

Cillian allowed himself a chuckle. He supposed it was a mark of his character or willpower than he didn't actually faint or worse yet throw up after experiencing the events of the last few days whipping around him in the matter of seconds. He had to admit time turner travel was definitely not his favourite, and he thought portkey travel was bad.

"Aye." He said simply about stopping off quickly at the Atrium to get the snack Sissel had promised before they made their way out to Diagon. He pondered for a moment how they were going to get to Diagon. They wouldn't have time to walk there and he hoped they were just going to apparate. He wasn't exactly looking forward to experiencing another unexpected magical trip of Sissel's choosing any time soon.

"Aye, firs thin'." He said in regards to his arrival at the Ministry. He had actually arrived earlier than normal having gotten into a row with Penelope the night before and not wanting to try and make it up to her that morning. He followed the other man out of the bathroom and towards the lifts to make it down to the Atrium.

~*~ Continued here ~*~