Private message to Lyoushka

[alt_antonin]

Disturbances reported in Diagon. I stopped for a drink (that is to say: to listen for gossip from those who still cling to the days when Diagon was our only centre for gathering, they being least likely to mourn once we can no longer suppress the news) and the teeming masses were certain something had happened, though no two stories agreed on what that something might be. The wildest of rumours have a gang of marauders rampaging up and down the Alley, wands drawn. (As to that, I found no evidence, though I did take care of several more minor incidents.)

I fear we may not be able to hold the news much past tomorrow at latest. I have not heard rumour that approaches reality yet -- but it is creeping ever closer. It may indeed be time for someone to sit down with Harry and have a frank discussion of political realities and the necessity of appearances.

I will be holding down my corner and my pint, and keeping my ears open, for at least the next half hour. If Bella arrives with her news before I return, send word; I do not know how late she meant.

Comments

[alt_antonin]

Nothing from Bella. I heard from Barty earlier; he was planning an evening of intelligence-gathering as well. Raz reports Hogwarts quiet; I stopped in just after supper to make arrangements for my classes tomorrow, and the atmosphere was indistinguishable from any day. I have not heard from Rod today; you have most likely spoken to him more recently than I. I called this afternoon upon Gus -- intended as a precursor for pressing him somewhat more firmly, though hopefully subtly enough -- about Mysteries' goings-on, as I am still suspicious of the weekend's overture, particularly considering what disaster came hard upon its heels, but either he is even more diminished than we feared, or he is playing a long and canny game.

I am concerned that Stephen's illness is so ... convenient.

(How quickly we fall into suspicion of each other. I still cannot believe something so banal could overcome)

Did think to nose about our other tender fledgelings again now that the shock has had a chance to ease. No other warning bells of alarm. They were, if possible, even less complimentary about Higgs than even Dominic was.

I suppose I ought join you -- my stamina is, thankfully, much recovered from where it was six months ago, but the me of twelve months past would turn up his nose at the me of this week. I am grown entirely too old for week-long campaigns, and potions can only take one so far.

I will not scoff at your suspicions, my dearest of brothers, any more than you have scoffed at mine throughout the years. But whatever is causing it is visible only in the spaces it leaves behind it, and I do not think we have sufficient information to identify the shape of those spaces from the shadows they cast.