"Don't be ridiculous, they haven't got enough vote to get the motion to pass," Kastra was saying as she sat in the guest chair across from Hawthorne's desk.
"But I thought Wiffenrowl was going-" began the council member.
"Strangest thing, actually," she interrupted with a rather pleased sort of smile, not bothering to look up from the inches of parchment balanced across her lap. "Wiffenrowl's vote was supposed to be secured during a meeting his deputy somehow forgot to confirm, one thing led to another, and wouldn't you know? The strangest coincidence, we bumped into each other over lunch. By the end of our completely accidental run-in, he somehow managed to changed his mind."
Hawthorne peered over his glasses at the young woman so casually leafing though the motion due to go to a vote in the next hour, who looked for all the world like she'd been taught to read on such documents. She was sharp and efficient, and above all she operated off the books. None of her meetings were recorded in schedules, and apart from those in the loop she simply have a rather active social life that happened to include a number of politicians. He was opening his mouth to speak when an inter-office memo came zipping through the mail slot.
It was a courtesy he'd extended to her, putting her name on his personal red-flag list. Any document or inquiry pertaining Kastra Yaxley would immediately compel a notice be sent to his office, the same as any inquiry regarding himself and his family. And keeping tabs, even on one's allies, was rarely a mistake.
"Mrs. Yaxley, is there any reason an Auror from the Spanish Ministry would be requesting information regarding your new home?" he asked after his gaze trickled down the memo.
If he'd been watching her, he'd have noticed that as still as she seemed sitting it was nothing compared to how statuesque she became at the mention of an Auror. Spanish Auror? Merlin's blood, she'd never had anything to do with Spain. Had she? Certainly no one now who knew her as Kastra- the rapidly spinning catalog of names and faces came to a screeching halt. There was a woman at a party with an accent.
"It's hardly new, I've been living there for months," she replied, closing the portfolio and affected a bored sort of tone. "Perhaps the Spanish Ministry thinks its the ancestral home of some patriot. I'll look into it. Is there a name?"
"Amarissa Cross," he replied, lilting at the end to ask if it rang any bells. He held the memo out to her.
"Never heard of her," she shrugged, setting the motion down on the edge of his desk, taking the piece of paper and glancing it over before folding it up. "But who ever pays attention to the low level grunts they send on errands?" She stood, picking up her cloak. "You have a vote to see to, and I have a lunch."
"You're not going to stay for the vote?" he asked, sounding surprised.
"Why on earth would I be interested in loitering about the Ministry while some committee votes on whether or not to administer emergency magical medical aid to muggles?" she asked, heading for the door as she set her cloak about her shoulders.
The two shared a cozy set of small smiles before she closed the door behind her.
Kastra Yaxley stood near the main doors of the Ministry for Magic. It was bitter cold, but she had a hunch this was likely the best place to intercept a foreign Auror. Thin dragonhide gloves kept her slender fingers remarkably warm as they held her cigarette to her lips. Nothing about the memo had been particularly informative. It would barely be worth noticing if it weren't for her inclination to connect what was likely a coincidence. Simply leaving it be out of concern over appearing paranoid, however, was the most ridiculous, inanely self-conscious excuse she could think of. All there was to do was wait. After all, a little bit of waiting wasn't ridiculous. Though if nothing came of it soon there were certainly other avenues she could follow to see what this whole thing was about.