Outside of the Great Hall, standing guard is a tall, dark wizard with broad shoulders. The wizard was handsome with a sleek bald head and a glittering single golden hoop earring. Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt pulled out a pocket watch from the pocket of his crimson and golden uniform. It was past two, and the emergency session of the International Confederation of Wizardry showed no sign of ending any time soon.
Yawning loudly at his side is fledgling Auror Frank Longbottom. Frank Longbottom sheepishly glances at Kinglsey, who tucks the pocket watch out of sight. "Kinglsey, I always thought being an Auror would be filled with action. Instead, we spend most of our days filling out paperwork and surveilling criminals more than anything else. By Rowana's tuft, it's boring, who would have ever thought? To be honest, if I knew what I know now, I'd have accepted the offer of the Quidditch recruiters in a heartbeat."
"Yes, well, personally, I don't mind dull days," Kinglsey drily retorted. "Because when everything goes to pot, we will have no choice but to be thrown into the fray. And our department has the lowest rate of retirement, and frankly, I'd like to retire from old age rather than in a grave."
It was a well-known fact that most Aurors did not reach the age of retirement; only a lucky few ever did. However, with the addition of the A.P.D., fatalities and injuries had dramatically dropped in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It seemed more and more probable that more than half of the Aurors would live to see retirement, a most fortunate fact for them.
"I know," Frank wearily sighed, "but this," he gestured to the empty stone hall filled with shining metal suits, "is just dreary. At least in the office, we can turn on the wire to listen to."
"Fair enough," Kingsley ruefully admitted, "but remember, what we're doing is important. We're guarding some of the most important wizards and witches of the world."
"Don't remind me," Frank shivered upon recalling that his great-uncle Harfang Longbottom was one of the delegates. If he ever let anything happen to him, that side of the family would never forgive him.
Glancing out at the darkening gray sky, Frank murmurs at least "Meadows, Proudfoot, Podmore, and Savage get to be outside. There are at least birds to watch."
"Not if it pours kneazles and crups," Kingsley gestured to the rather dark sky. The sky was almost pitch black; it would be dark as night at this rate.
Kingsley slowly stretched his neck from side to side, then his shoulders. He wasn't about to admit to Frank that he was just as bored. He was just better at not showing it. It was all part of the job.
Outside on the grounds of Hogwarts, the group of four Aurors was split into pairs of two: Proudfoot and Savage, and Meadows and Podmore. Patrolling at the edge of the Forbidden Forest are Meadows and Podmore. Stifling a yawn, Auror Sturgis Podmore rubs the top of his thick, strawberry colored thatched hair. It had been a tranquil morning; the only sounds heard were the rustling of birds and fauna that crept through the edge of the Forbidden Forest, mostly deer and the like.
The Forbidden Forest is eerily silent. The animals had sensed the approaching storm and had retreated to the safety of their nests. The only sound heard was the rustling of leaves and the sound of waves crashing onto the banks of the lake.
Rubbing his square jaw with one hand, Sturgis Podmore turned to gaze at his partner, a pretty, petite witch standing further away, who gazed with a frown at the dark clouds hanging overhead that grew darker by the minute. "Well, if it storms, Dorcas, at least, we have cover unlike Proudfoot and Savage."
Irked, Auror Dorcas Meadows ignores the comment made by her partner. She pursed her pink lips impatiently and irritably scanned the skies. The storm was taking its sweet time to arrive. She refrained from glancing at the time as she knew there was only a small window of time for the plan to succeed.
A flash of lightning violently flashed overhead and was followed by an immediate loud rumble. Gusts of wind begin to blow, whipping their crimson and golden robes about them. The leaves rustle loudly behind them as tree branches begin to moan and creak at the fierce gusts.
Tendrils of curly hair sway against the tan cheek of Dorcas Meadows, who appeared gaunt and sickly in the dim darkness. Forcefully, she shoves the curl out of her face. She eagerly waits for the bats to arrive as Sturgis Podmore calls out to her to retreat under the canopy of trees. She ignores his calls and remains standing out in the open.
The storm, with a fierce rumble and flash of blinding lightning, begins to pour cats and dogs. Sheets of rain pour down from the heavens absolutely drenching Dorcas Meadows within seconds. The storm raged for what seemed like hours, but was only a quarter of an hour before it passed. The dark clouds broke and were dispersed by bright, warm sun rays, ultimately revealing a brilliant blue sky.
Trotting across the wet, muddy lawn, Sturgis Podmore frowned as he shoved his damp hair back. He was mostly dry, but his hair was a bit damp as was his face and neck. He hadn't missed the impatience on his partner's face. He didn't want to speculate, but Dorcas' actions were far from normal.
Dorcas Meadows shook with rage rather than cold despite being wet from head to toe. Her fingers were clenched so tightly around her wand that they were white. Her nails had dug into her palm, leaving bright, red, glistening carved crescents behind. The bloody leeches had betrayed them! The Dark Lord ought to have known better!
The sound of footsteps snapped Dorcas Meadows out of her rant. Shoving her rage aside, she casts a warming spell and a quick drying spell, leaving her clothes and hair stiff. "I do enjoy standing in a storm every now and again," she feigned with good cheer.
"Yes, it looked quite enjoyable from where I was standing at," Sturgis Podmore deadpanned. "Sure, it wasn't to calm your head?" He carefully asked as he intently observed her reaction.
"Surely, you jest," Dorcas Meadows prettily smiled with a smile that did not reach her blazing eyes. "We best go and help out, Savage and Proudfoot," she gestured across the green, glistening lawn where poor Proudfoot and Savage are shivering from the cold as they desperately dry themselves. The poor bastards had been assigned to patrol an open area without any cover.
Sturgis Podmore agreed and accompanied Dorcas Meadows across the muddy, green lawn. The gentle, cool breeze rustled their robes as they walked. Yet Sturgis Podmore hadn't missed the barely hidden discontent in Dorcas Meadows' gaze. There was something afoot, and Dorcas Meadows was a part of it.
A part of Sturgis Podmore absolutely refused to believe that a friend, a fellow Auror, and member of the Order of the Phoenix could possibly be a traitor. Yet the Auror side of him sensed something was amiss. He just couldn't shake the feeling, but neither did he have proof beyond just a feeling. He didn't think he was wrong, but he didn't want to falsely accuse a fellow Auror based on just a feeling.
The law required proof of a crime, and Sturgis Podmore knew he would also need proof to prove his speculations. If there was something wrong with Dorcas Meadows, then he would find out what it was. He wouldn't be able to do it alone, he would need the help of his friends, Benjy Fetwick and Caradoc Dearborn.