alt_regulus | (no subject)

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So, what am I to do?

I would far rather be chasing here and there with no time to think of anything beyond your deadline, than sitting here with so little to do but think.

You laugh.

So what have I done? Well, let's see. Today.

Bought The Prophet, milk, tea, biscuits, two potatoes, bread, and a cauliflower. Oh, yes, and butter. 1 galleon. Change.

Returned with parcels. Made tea.

Took tea and Prophet, sat out on steps. Read. Front page: MLE arrest Devonshire grandmother of thirty-seven as smuggling mastermind (cousin mentioned and brother). Wynne-Masters family move into lovely, refurbished New London home; more pictures, page three. St Mungo's report rise in birthrate over past six months (see feature article, Family Fortunes section, within). Within: Commerce (triumphs and trials, various articles).

Rain commenced. Retreated inside. More tea.

Moved stool by window. Watched. Nothing of note.

Continued paper. Keeping the Peace (public house curfews reaffirmed; calm in the camps continues; murder, mayhem investigated in several localities); Family Fortunes ('One Family's Gratitude for Repopulation Rewards Programme'); Social Whirl (parties, weddings, engagements, births, obituaries); Hearth and Home (recipes; housekeeping tips); My Prophet (classified adverts, astrologer's advice). Back page: weather, puzzles, Buckingham Week (a busy schedule ahead for you, I see).

More tea, moved stool to table. Found quill and ink. Worked puzzles. Failed.

Lunch: finished leftover bacon barley soup. Watched out window: umbrellas rush by. One red, remainder black.

Out to stationers, where bought ink, parchment, wax, blotter. 2 galleons. Change. Apples from stall. 2 sickles. No change. Met no one promising.

Returned. Tracked in muck. Cleaned floor, shoes.

Room dim and no candles.

Out to local chandlers. Listened to advice. Listened to weather. Listened to gossip. Tutted interestedly at second cousin's second daughter mixed up in dodgy ritual. Returned to advice. Selected beeswax. Standard weight. Alchemist's dozen. 3 galleons. Change.

Returned. Lit candle and cast brightening charm.

Letters. Mother. Mother. Mother. Cousin. School chum. Lover. You laugh.

Twisted firestarters. Laid fire. Lit it.

Letters. Mother. Mother.

Burned.

Mother.

Summoned elf. Sent it with letter to Mother. Rain continued.

Tuned wireless. Sorted clippings. Watched out window until dark.

Made tea. Cauliflower cheese. Toast. Ate. Missed elf.

It's a much better cook than I am.

How am I to accomplish what you've asked? I should chat up the neighbours, I suppose. There's a young woman who pushes a pram up and down the street in the middle of the day (when it is not spitting down rain). When I spoke with her--on Tuesday--she asked if I had children. Then she asked if I worked at nights or was it a day off for me. The conversation was brief. What was I supposed to learn from her? Whatever it was, I did not. Or not yet. Perhaps she will tell me more another time, but I suspect she's not a promising lead. Still, maybe she knows something. Maybe she doesn't even know she knows.

Was I really meant for this line of work?

You're not laughing, are you?

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Thank you, cousin. The settee is lovely and fills the space admirably. The pillows are much appreciated, too, and the napkins and tableware. I was really scraping by before you took me in hand.

This place looks almost civilised now.

Really, it sounds as if you are still just scraping by.

Surely you did better for yourself those years in Ireland?

It sounds as if you'll be at this a while at this rate. Lucius had said as much. So if you shan't be able to borrow an elf for the duration, at least let me send Fifi in once a week to prepare meals you can heat with a swish of the wand.

Well, it hardly seems practical to accumulate things, you know. That's why your things are ideal: they can go back to you when He decides that He's ready to assign someone with proper training to this project and send me haring off six places each fortnight again.

Oh, the elf offer is tempting. I have Kreacher, you know, to go back and forth, but he's quartered at Buckingham so that Mother and I are only an elf 'pop' away whenever Word needs be sent. Cooking for me is not part of his duties, in other words. I think that's Mother's wish. She seems to enjoy the thought of my domestic struggles.

I'm sure He has His reasons for wishing you to become more proficient in this line of work.

Aunt Walburga has no need to torture you further, I'm sure. I don't suggest we can spare our elves all the time, either, but I'm certain we can arrange something to everyone's satisfaction.

You're holding out on me, by the way. Don't think I didn't notice. I can understand if you've no wish to admit anything on parchment, but next visit, I expect to hear all about this lover you mention....

His reasons and Mother's are entirely their own, and are usually not mine to know. No worries. It's easier that way, really.

Any bit of elf you're willing to share would go down a treat. I'm as ill-equipped at cooking as at most things I'm attempting these days. Perhaps worse. (I think I might have had a breakthrough today on the other fronts.)

And, cousin, you should know that I never kiss and tell. Though I sometimes tell without kissing. Or some such.

Well, these reports are thorough, certainly, if they lack any other useful information.

And yes, it does look to be a busy week ahead. The Shroton and Ampfield camps have been selected for the next phase of Rookwood's project; Our Lord has elected personally to go and witness the first trials. And as it is a new quarter, there are also the petitions to hear and the monthly selection of exemplary camps to inspect.

To say nothing of following up on your latest ... intelligence. Your most recent owls arrived on Friday and He was not much impressed with the progress.

I can only offer thoroughness where intelligence fails. I acknowledge my shortcomings in the latter department. As I said, I'm hardly well trained for this role, let alone well suited. But what suits me is not a relevant consideration. I'd have thought that if results were important, it might have been better to send someone with a bit of background in this sort of thing, but that sort of thinking is also outside my brief. As it is, I'm viewing each day's experience as on-the-job training of an extremely self-directed type.

Of course, I shouldn't like to change places with you. Your week sounds characteristically brutal. You do sacrifice yourself, Lucius, above and beyond compare. Really, your rivals must look on you with despair.

I trust He is more impressed with your progress than with mine.

I sometimes think He likes each of us to face challenges for which we are not necessarily suited. Carrow and teaching, for example.

In your case, I have it on good authority that assistance or suggestions are decidedly outside parametres He would deem acceptable (more's the pity). For mine, I have been extraordinarily lucky, I am sure, that my meagre talents have proven consistently to be of use in close proximity to Our Lord. As you say, that brings with it its own litany of potential complaints. When I weigh them against the benefits, however, any grievance seems illegitimate by comparison.

To your progress, let us say He is tolerant, for the time being.

What's this smuggling ring article Regulus mentions? Anyone?

If it's real and not a trumped-up charge, their network may be going into disarray. Kingsley, Frank - any chance you can find the remainder of the group to offer aid?

that's around my mum's place. I'll see what she knows of the lay of the land. if it isn't swarming with MLE, might be worth seeing if we can't get to them first.

Caradoc has some contacts in that area, too, my friend. He's going to poke around--very carefully, I assure you--to see if he can find out anything more.

43A - sleutel-vervoer, maybe? Without the hyphen, that is.

About the smuggling grandmother - her brother or yours? It's nothing to do with me, though I'm sure no one will believe either of us, least of all Bella. Pity the people shan't have access to whatever she was risking her life to provide, though.

Do you actually read horoscopes? Did not know that. All right. The one here for you says, 'Success is likely to be tied to your initiative, so don't just sit around.' (Mine says, 'Beware of making hasty bargains,' which is apropos yet ridiculously generic.)

Didn't realise you spoke Africaans. It fits, too. And actually suggests I've got several others wrong... you may have hit it, brother.

Ah. The article mentions you as an evil mastermind behind some sea smuggling attempt up the mouth of the Irish Sea and another in Cornwall. Of course, your meant to be behind nearly every unsolved crime in this country. Probably you're the one leaving bodies about without their fingers and hands, though I don't think they've suggested you yet. You have a fetish for signet rings, then?

I read every word of every daily. Cereal packets, too. And adverts in shop windows. I'm a bit of a reader. S'pose you didn't know that, either.

That's a tricky one you've got for me. P'raps it means I'm supposed to spend more time strolling in the rain and chatting up young mums and shopkeeps. Certainly, it's little good just watching out my window. I had thought I might start riding the knight bus back and forth wherever it goes and chatting up the clientele, but at the moment it seems I'm meant to stick close to this little corner of the world and dig into all its grubby, insignificant secrets.

You did always seem inclined to be hasty. Rash, some have called it.

I've picked up a phrase or two. Certainly not what I'd call fluent.

As for those ghastly murders, nope. I've not sunk to premeditated mutilations yet, thanksverymuch. In fact I've a sinking feeling I know who is behind those. Not that anyone would believe that, either. What d'you fancy would happen if I placed an anonymous tip with the MLE?

We managed reading in common, as well, then. But horoscopes? Really, I do find them entirely too convenient. Like tarot readings, they only serve to reinforce whatever you think you need to hear. Case in point, your neighbourhood watch project. What neigbourhood was that again?

Hasty? Me? Surely not. I prefer to think I know a good thing when I see it. Besides, the years have forced me to become a sight more patient. Thank Merlin.

Oi. I read and yet I still can't spell my way out of a paper sack.

I'll tell you my neighbourhood if you tell me yours. Then we could meet for tea. Yours or mine?

I'll let you read the tea leaves. If you're patient.

Me? Obviously I'm sailing the Irish Sea, with my eyepatch and parrot. Didn't you say you'd read the Prophet?

And anyway, what's all this waffle about me not brushing hair or teeth? That can't be the reason you actually hung about with old Snivelly, is it? To make yourself look good by comparison?

Mordacious Morgana, Reg ~~I dunno why I bother~~ --

Oh, bollocks. Bugger off yourself, piker.

Bugger.

What are you on about?

Teeth? Hair?

Oh, Kreacher's stories! Well. He really did tell them that way. Young Master Regulus had a handsome, heroic father and a tall, dignified mother, but they didn't figure too much in the business. He had to have a nemesis, I think, and that's where Kreacher put you in.

It's just stories, though. I always thought you were a bit of pirate, myself. Now, you'd look good with an eyepatch.

What are you doing?

What, right now?

Having a cup of tea and a biscuit. And reading what people have written here.

Oh! You mean talking to him?

No worries. It's not as dangerous as you suppose. He's my brother, after all. Maybe I can help bring him round.

My dear cousin, you yourself just pointed out that person's tendency to rashness. Do you think it's wise to emulate that very trait yourself?

What do you imagine you could possibly say? Don't waste your time, Reg.

Well, it's a black job, I'll grant you, but someone's got to do it.

Oh, I don't know. I don't suppose you can understand.

I won't pursue him, cousin, but if he pops up here, I won't run away from him, either. How's that?

I don't see why anyone's got to do anything, least of all you. He made his choice a long time ago, as did you.

And if you think I don't understand, you don't know me as well as you claim. I do understand the temptation, cousin dear, but believe me when I tell you the reward, in this case, is hardly worth the effort. Or the risk.

Nonetheless, I suppose brothers are different to sisters and you must salve your sense of pride. If that is your goal, then I understand it even less, but so be it.

And you can just keep your hook out of Harry, if you know what's good for you.

Oh, he's a good kid. So far as I've had a chance to see. He's usually very bored by big people.

Shows he has good sense.

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