11:28 AM

Sissel, having a bottle of pumpkin juice in hand, had promised buying snacks for teatime, or to relate it to the "current" timeframe, late brunch. He took a glance at passerby. Soon this cowled figure was going to appear and give someone their memories of the event.

"Best to stay off to the side," he told Cilian as they stood against one of the stores. "We'll want to shadow him quietly."

With a sugared pastry in his hand Cillian walked with Sissel down Diagon Alley getting closer and closer to the menagerie they were supposed to be investigating. He leaned against the side of the shop across from the Menagerie nodding simply as Sissel said to stick to the shadows. It made enough sense for him, afterall they weren't supposed to be here, in more sense than one. Then again with Sissel doing what he did he supposed there were plenty of times where people could have sworn they'd seen him at different places at the same time.

His soft hazel eyes regarded the shop across from them. He tilted his head to the side as he regarded the regal looking gold and dark blue sign above the shop - Wentworth and Sons Magical Menagerie - for all your magical creature needs. He swallowed hard trying to remember why that name seemed so familiar to him. It wasn't long before a pair of dark blue eyes and long dark brown hair came to mind. He had taught at least one of the Wentworth's back at Hogwarts and if he wasn't mistaken he had gone to school with a pair or two of them as well.

"Hmmm." He said mostly to himself. Being muggleborn he wasn't exactly adept at the inner workings of High Society Purebloods but he was pretty sure he had read somewhere about the Wentworth's being ridiculously rich. He supposed that was motive enough for ruining one of their menageries. If only they could figure out what the cowled figure had to do with all of it. He glanced at his watch once more finding himself impatient for the man to appear.

Downing the last of the juice, Sissel tossed it expertly into a rubbish bin on the other side of the street.

"Ya know, I can't say that I've ever been in that shop. Never had time for pets," Sissel said, indicating the menagerie. He read the sign. "Wentworth and Sons...so in that memory, it must be Wentworth or one of the sons that popped out after the bang. Might have to interview him."

From an interior pocket in his suit he pulled out a glass rememberall. The mist stayed white. Not that he expected it to change but it was good practice to keep current history in the forefront of your mind.

He kept his eyes up and down the street. "Any minute now..."

Cillian nodded briefly, "More'n likely jus a cuzzin." Cillian muttered. From what he knew of the wealthy bloodline (which admittedly was not a lot) the whole mess of them were involved in building the Patriarch's Menagerie empire. There was a big scandal a few years back when the Real Wentworth son disappeared from this very shop but much like anything these days the story only stayed in the papers for so long before it got over run by whatever else was new and fascinating to report on. Cillian himself had only met a few from the clan, cousins and such that he had gone to school with and more recently a mousy little Ravenclaw who had just joined his Divination class that school year.

He looked up and down the street wondering when the cowled figure was going to make his appearance. Where had the man come from? How long had he been there, in front of the shop before he started preaching to the crowd? Cillian shook his head gently, there was still something that seemed to be missing, like a piece of the puzzle they hadn't seen before.

It started slowly, a soft churning in his stomach that soon turned into a grumble. Then the hairs on the back of his neck began to stand on end. A horrible sense of forboding overwhelmed him. Something was going to happen and it was going to happen very soon. Cillian was suddenly overwhelmed by the sensation. He had been a Seer his entire life but more often than not his visions came while he was asleep while his mind was the most free to explore the gentle fabrics of fate. It was very rare for him to get such a strong sense of intuition  while still awake but then he supposed that's what he got for messing with time, "I've gotta bad feelin' bout this."

Sissel mused over Cilian's knowledge of an apparent public scandal. It hadn't shown up on his radar, so the issue if there was one did not involve the happening of repeated time.

He then noticed Cilian looking a bit peaky. "I've gotta bad feelin' bout this."

"Is that a bad feeling or a bad vision?" Sissel asked, looking for clarification. "Not that I'm saying you need glasses, but I don't think you mean primary sight--wait, let me start over, I know you're the Seer so are you getting a..."

Sissel trailed off. It wasn't in Apparation, but the cowled figure had materialized in such a way in the middle of the street that he either had a means of invisibility or an amazing hiding place. The figure began his little speech and Sissel felt a twisted form of deja vu, since he hadn't really been here the "first" time this happened but had "first" seen it in a penseive.

"BEWARE, AS THE MONTH TURNS TO JUNE! MAGIC HAS BLINDED YOU! YOU BELIEVE YOURSELVES INVINCIBLE TO THE HANDS OF FATE! WOE TO THOSE THAT DO NOT HEED MY WARNING. 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. WHAT HAS HAPPENED OCTOBER LAST WILL OCCUR AGAIN. THE DARK CONSPIRING FORCES CAN NO LONGER HIDE IN THE ALLEYWAYS OF SHADOW. AS THE CLOCK STRIKES FOUR HISTORY WILL REPEAT IN SMALLER SCALE."

The cowled figure retreated. Sissel held up a hand for a few moments, to make sure the figure would have no way of seeing them, then started through the stunned crowd.

"Let's roll."

Cillian put a hand to his stomach, bent over ever so slightly and afraid of spewing the breakfast Sissel had just purchased for him. The sensation was incredibly intense and he definitely wasn't a fan of it. He had yet to experience a Seer vision like this before, it was all sensation and no vision, nothing discernible beyond an awkward forboding feeling that was making him physically ill.

He opened his mouth to either answer Sissel or loose his lunch but no words escaped. His hazel eyes darkened almost clouded over as they snapped quickly to a space in front of the shop just in time to see the cowled figure materialize. There was no snap or pop of apparition, there was no object visible for it to have been a portkey travel and there was something tugging at the back of his brain that told him the man hadn't been invisible just moments before. He had just appeared, simple as that.

Now that he was here and proclaiming the impending doom Cillian found the sickening sensations had faded. He straightened and shook his head, it was as if he had never felt sick to begin with. There was something not right and out of place with this mysterious figure, so much so that it seemed to be causing his Seer abilities to go haywire. Afraid to speak as much to his older colleague Cillian simply nodded and followed the man's lead into the crowd.

Sissel looked back a moment to see if Cilian was catching up. Although green and quivering at the lips, the Prophecy Curator was trailing along. Sissel noticed a flick of white robes darting an alleyway, between two buildings, and snuck in afterwards.

There's a change going from Diagon to Knockturn Allies, no matter which connection you used. What was bright, colorful, well maintained and populated storefronts became grey, dingy, derelict and sparse. As simple as two buildings next door, each fulfilling the different requirements. Even the sounds were different, the ambience of the crowded Diagon faded into a distance even though they were only a few yards off the path.

Knockturn also had more kinks, overhang, and shadowy nooks to hide in. The cowled figure could not be seen but someone could be heard moving ahead of them, just out of sight.

"Wands at the ready," Sissel suggested, a whisper hissed out of the sides of his mouth. "You're not getting any hints from your second sight, are you?"

Cillian treaded through the crowd hot on Sissel's heels not wanting to lose the man in the commotion the cowled figure had caused. It wasn't long before it was just the two of them sneaking into the darkened section of Diagon that was easily recognized as Knockturn. Cillian felt a shiver run up his spine that had nothing to do with his sixth sense. While there wasn't any immediate danger that he could tell being in Knockturn just made the small Irishman feel incredibly uncomfortable.

He slipped out his wand and kept it tight in his hand. Though the only wizard in his family Cillian was actually rather talented when it came to wand work and defensive spells. He wasn't great at attacking but he was bloody brilliant at keeping himself safe. Defense Against the Dark Arts had actually been a favoured subject during his days of Hogwarts, up until his coma. After that he had somewhat receded from everything he had enjoyed during his first three years of Hogwarts. He supposed witnessing the horrors of the second war before they actually happened would do that to any third year.

His hazel eyes clouded over again and his head suddenly snapped to the left. His looked to Sissel with a haunted and faraway look. Without opening his mouth to speak he nodded to his left, wand at his side and began walking down the darkened alleyway following a sense of direction that was more often than not untapped by the former Divinations Professor.

Sissel regarded Cilian's nod, then altered direction. He hoped the curator was up to a challenge should it arise, not knowing two bits about his magical capabilities outside of divination. Cilian had a determined look on his face. If he was being guided to where they needed to be.

Sissel was almost worried that they were heading into a dead end, but a small  archway off to the side had an open iron gate, and a few fire escapes stretched above them. He scanned up, nothing appearing out of place.

"FOOLS!" boomed a voice equally loud as to the presentation minutes earlier. Sissel pivoted. There was the cowled figure, standing on the three quarters wall above the gateway, a blast of maroon sparks heading for them. Must have been cast non verbally as the figure proclaimed "Fools."

SSShhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiii--

Sissel jumped in front of Cilian, halfway through the motions of a shielding spell. But it was too late, the cowled figure's casting too quick, catching them off guard. Sissel got hit in the face and at once blood cascaded from every available orifice like juice from a well squeezed tomato. Bleeding Hex.

"YOU HAVE MEDDLED IN MY PLANS ONCE TOO MANY." How?, Sissel thought, unless this seemingly fake prophecy had been planned way in advance, longer then a week. Yet how did he seems to hate them exactly, Cilian had only been brought in recently; the Hall of Prophecies Curator would never before be dealt with criminal interactions.

The force of the hex was making it too hard to think. As Sissel crumpled he noticed other lights from cast spells, so many fired in such a short time.

"Protego!" Cillian threw up a shield that rebounded one of the cowled figures hexes but he hadn't thrown it up in time to prevent Sissel getting hit. He was about to perform the counter curse for the Bleeding Hex that was making him dizzy but was hit by a spell before he could get it out. The spell rippled down his wand arm turning the whole thing numb. His numb fingers relaxed their grip on his wand and it clattered to the cobblestone walkway underneath them.

Cursing loudly Cillian ducked out of the way of three more curses thrown in his direction. He could feel the heat from them as they whizzed past his head. He dropped to his knees his dominant arm hanging useless at his side. He glanced over to realize one of the curses he had thought he had dodged had hit the numbed limb. His shirt was torn and his flesh looked seared. He was briefly thankful for the fact that he couldn't feel the burn - at least not yet.

Weaving constantly to make himself a harder target Cillian braced himself on the ground with his good arm and tried to spy his bendy fir within the dimness of the alley. He knew he was leaving himself open for attack but if he couldn't find his wand he wasn't going to be of any use anyways.

Sissel, in his crumpled bleeding form, saw Cillian stuck under the fire of curses. This wasn't making sense, unless it was just the loss of blood flow to his head. The cowled figure had expected them and was clearly a better duelist than rouge prophet.

He stood, trying to muster up some type of spell back at the guy. A clatter of wood made him think that a wand had been dropped but the cowled figure still fired hexes, so it must have been Cillian's. Sissel mumbled a spell, surprised that it actually managed to crumble. The cowled figure stumbled but regained his balance.

"ENOUGH!" it said in a more exasperated voice. "WHAT DOES IT TAKE TO KNOCK YOU PEOPLE OUT?!"

"Cillian, your wand," Sissel said, trying to kick it back towards the younger man. It was too late though. The hearing was starting to go from Sissel, plugged by a stream of blood. But he saw Cillian get struck down, his hiding place obliterated.

"Noooo!"

Sissel collapsed too. He rolled, aiming his wand above to the half wall but the cowled figure had gone. Sissel crawled over to Cillian to see what damage had been done.

On his hand and knees Cillian had been fumbling around to try and find his wand. His dark hazel eyes darted forward as Sissel kicked the fir wand in his direction but he still wasn't quite close enough to grasp it. He inched forward again and then howled in pain as a stray hex hit the back of his left calf. It must have been the same hex that had grazed his shoulder only this time he felt the very sharp searing pain as a blackened part of his leg was exposed under his burnt pants.

He crumpled to the ground held up on his elbow as he was unable to move much under the pain of his seared calf. Thankfully there was no blood as the hex had instantly cauterized the wound but the pain was still throbbingly present.

Cillian reached out his fingers just barely touching the edge of his wand. A rebounded hex hit the awning he hadn't realized he was under and a piece of the metal hanging landed square on his back forcing him the rest of the way to the ground. His body screamed in pain, the weight of the metal bar pinning him to the cobblestone Cillian became a sitting duck. It wasn't long before the cowled figure sent one last hex in his direction. Thankfully he didn't seem intent on actually killing the former Professor.

A spiderweb of purple electricity snaked over Cillian's prone body and he was plunged into the neverending black void of unconsciousness.

Sissel held back, purple light arcing around Cillian, then finished crawling over, checking for a pulse. Alive. Phew.

He turned again, wand at the ready, but the cowled figure was gone. And Sissel was reminded of how much crimson was pouring onto his tie. He checked Cillian's wounds. Blackened, burned skin. Well, if it was sourced from a wand burns weren't too bad in the magical world. Thus a dilemma.

Sissel was risking loosing all his blood through his head, Cillian was unconscious and burned. For all his skill apparating he was not going to attempt dragging an unconscious body especially has he was getting lightheaded from blood loss. But he couldn't leave Cillian here in Knockturn Alley. They were close to Diagon, and he needed someplace on the down low to keep Cillian. Whelp, here's hoping his levitation types will still strong.

Plugging his nose with the tie, Cillian in the air like a ballon, Sissel made the methodic steps back to Diagon Alley, stumbling through the first friendly abandoned shop he could find. Dusty, with the faint remains of chocolate (that Sissel barely detected through a nose of blood and necktie.

Cillian was propped up on a stack of burlap sacks. Sissel was feeling close to fainting. Should he risk it? Well he kinda had to now, he doubted he had the strength to properly counteract the Bleeding Hex. He steeled himself then apparated to --> St. Mungo's

/:/:/:/:/

Thursday, April 23, 3:41 PM

Previously as Sissel Jowd left St. Mungo's...

One pub search for Saturday's date, then Sissel remembered he needed something for Cillian's injuries, making his way back to St. Mungo's for burn lotion. Guaranteed to remove burns after a few hours under bandages. And they had time to squander. Cillian's unconscious form was as he left him when Sissel returned to the abandoned shop. He dutifully applied the burn cream, added bandages he had also gotten, then prepped for a stakeout. No traces of their battle with the cowled figure in the secluded enclave of Knockturn. Well, they knew when the Menagerie explosion would occur.

Sissel investigated the vaguely chocolate shop for remnants of sweets. Scavenging what he could, he set to watching the Menagerie. He could see the entrance and fire escape from this angle.

After a few hours of heavy breathing, Cillian began to stir. Sissel felt slightly guilty from dragging the young prophecy curator through this but was optimistic he would get better.

"Good morning," Sissel said. On a counter between them he set up a simple recovery potion, last of his kit from St. Mungo's, and a cardboard barrel. "Drinking this will get rid of the last of that pain. And this is some Chocolate Non-Melt Ice Cream. Sealed tight here for ages! This place must have been trying to compete with Flortescue's old joint back in the day." With a spoon he scooped a large amount into his mouth. Fresh as the day it was turned.

Things came back to him in stages. First the faint sound of rustling, soft movements and the steady in and out of someone breathing, was that him or someone else? Then there was smell, sweets perhaps but so faint that he couldn't discern what he was actually smelling. Then his vision came to him causing the pounding in his own head and the pain in the rest of his body to be more realized.

Cillian gingerly sat up. The feeling in his arm had come back and he quickly noticed the bandage that was wrapped around his torn sleeve. A quick glance told him there was an identical bandage on his leg. It seemed that Healer wasn't in Sissel's large repertoire of skills, though he did a fine job with what he had. Cillian eagerly downed the potion wishing it were firewhiskey, before swinging his legs off of the burlap sack.

He rubbed at his eyes. for a fleeting moment he wondered how long he had been out? Had it been a few hours or a full day? If it had been more than a day he could just imagine the hysterics it must have put Penelope through. As soon as the thought entered his mind it was quickly brushed away by the memory of the time turner. There would be no hysteric girlfriend to deal with when he got home because this day's Cillian was just fine and dandy and had no injuries to cause anyone worry.

He took a spoonful of the ice cream then peered out the window alongside Sissel. He rolled his shoulders trying to get a kink out of his back, "Ho' lon' was I ou' fer?"

"Not to long, a couple hours," Sissel said. "We've got the final minutes of countdown before that Menagerie Explosion, I've been keeping a look out." And thus the confusing bit. Apparently the cowled figure had done more than just proclaim a future disaster, seeing Sissel and Cillian as interruptive. Somehow.

Pulling a chair back to the window, Sissel turned to Cillian. At least he was looking better with all the healing potions and lotions. "Thanks for sticking around. I realize, er..." Sissel scratched the back of his head. "I didn't ask you to come, I mean, I didn't give you a choice. I've always thought TTI could benefit from Seer, since Time and Prophecy are first cousins. But we've never had a Seer close enough to the department in a while. Heck, there hasn't even been a proper Seer in charge of the Hall of Prophecy in ages. So when you came along, I figured, why not give the guy some experience?"