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[May. 31st, 2009|04:49 pm] |
Who: Malcolm Baddock and... When: Sunday evening (May 31) Where: You know that hole-in-the-wall Asian noodle shop run by that nice Wizarding couple? ...Merlin, what's the name of that place? What: A dinner conversation Rating: TBD STATUS: Open; Incomplete
Malcolm drummed his fingers on the table as he waited for his soba. It was in restaurants and bars where he noticed the most changes in Britain. Three years ago, it would have been impossible for him to get a table. Not anymore, he thought, raising the glass of water as his eyes scanned the room. A loud noise sent his gaze over to the kitchen, where he saw Mrs. Liao surveying the dining room. Their eyes met, and she offered him a sad smile before turning to the kitchen to deal with some minor problem or other.
Perhaps he had made a mistake by coming back so soon--thought it had been two years since he left, and he thought that things would have healed more significantly by now (he thanked Mrs. Liao as she set the plate of noodles in front of him, picking up his fork eagerly). It wasn't just the wizards who were tense; Muggles seemed more on edge themselves. The whole situation had left the country feeling darker and (at least in his mind) more panicked than they had been in the years of He Who Must Not Be Named.
He placed his fork down again, staring at the untouched plate for a second. He looked up, startled to hear the door open. |
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Wit beyond measure is a man's greatest treasure. |
[May. 31st, 2009|06:45 pm] |
Who: Ravenclaws (OPEN) When: 31 May, Sunday evening Where: The Marsh Harrier, Oxford What: Ravenclaws are in the house...
Michael arrived early, wanting to make certain that the pub would work tonight. If there were too many people here, or if it looked like something was amiss, he'd have time to get a hold of the others, or at least wait in the car park.
But it was alright. Not empty, but perhaps that was for the best. They'd be able to blend in with the light crowd that was trickling inside in pairs and trios. Muggles,, he thought ungenerously. You'd never know from watching them that some of their kind were hell-bent on destroying us. They were suspiciously dark thoughts for a half-blood, he knew, but...
He ordered an ale and tossed darts to relieve himself of that weird anxiety. There was no need to be nervous. Yeah, if he kept telling himself that, perhaps that feeling in his stomach would go away. |
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