Triumphant: logs, entries, media.

He's subnational, she's subnational; you're probably a subnational, aren't you, you wicked thing.


[fixed into the journal with a charm; every so often Evan smiles and points an idle
finger outside of the frame as though to say Is that a subnational? Are you quite sure?]

Isn't it funny, how people sometimes just ~ poof.

My daughter may be a seditious little scorpion, but at 16 she can cast an excellent tracking spell and curse in four languages; one solid point to France, I'd say. (I am generous and claim absolutely nothing for my minimal contribution.)

Critique of the education system aside: pick a card.

Who | Bellatrix Lestrange, Evan Rosier, Rabastan Lestrange & you.
Where | Diagon Alley, just outside of Gringott's Bank
When | Approximately 5:00 PM
What | The Dark Lord requires an object, and his faithful are sent to retrieve it

Feel free to use this post to tag in, thread or otherwise explore this plot point.

****

The countercurse meant to slow the replicating charm to a dull crawl having been uttered, and Hufflepuff's cup having been retrieved, meant that the only obstacle left to overcome was a swift and unhasty exit. Bellatrix, indeed, knew that their disguises were quite done and that the goblins (because they were clever, nasty little beasts) would have alerted the Aurors. Fighting one's way out of anywhere was sure to get the blood up, and as she looked to her companions she smiled beatifically. Ready if you are, gentlemen.

The door flung open, and she crossed the threshold onto the street below.

Then, with her wand aloft, her smile became a snarl.

"Hello."

Such fuss.