It was high time Ella and Terrence put to use their explosive creativity somewhere other than in the bedroom. Though, if her suspicions were correct, they'd be creative there later, too--or maybe somewhere other than the bedroom, as the case would probably end up being. Either way, their brains and skills were not meant to be used in servitude, they were meant to cause chaos. And right now there was just simply far too much of one side dominating. It was time to mix it up a bit.
And so here they were in Buxton, precisely where Fletcher had said they'd find the redheaded Weasley. Well, they'd found the journal, in any case, after a near nasty run-in with a well-placed bomb. It had taken a bit of effort to diffuse it, but they'd succeeded. It was then that Ella had rightly suspected that they'd find the journal but not the redhead. She'd already planted a fake journal and some miscellaneous camping supplies at the fake location she'd planted in Fletcher's head, but it would be a shame to have gone to all of the trouble for a dead end. She was rather certain, though, that the bomb had been put there purposefully and, if they just waited long enough, the culprit would surface eventually to assess the results.
So they'd waited. And when Ella sensed the movement to the front of the shed, she grinned wickedly to herself, stood from her perch and craned her neck just enough to catch sight of who was there. She could barely make out the silhouette, but the red hair from the Wanted posters stood out vividly. She didn't need to be a native to put two and two together. Stepping into the shadows, she leaned against the frame of the shed and spoke audibly. "Watch your step, there's a bomb," she grinned, gripping her wand at her side. If there was a fight, she was more than ready. But really, plotting would be exponentially more fun.