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Did you know?

The Language of the Flowers was a popular method to express feelings where words might be improper, but did you know other means of doing so? Some ladies used their parasols, as well as their fans, gloves, and hankies to flirt with a gentleman (or alternatively, tell them to shove it!). — Bree


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Iola Hitchens for Elladora Black. The Blacks' black sheep.
This boy, then. He wasn't new. Wasn't one of the worst people in the common room, those rotten rich boys - like Mr. Jailkeeper - who could not fathom a world beyond their own farts. Was a good working class lad, so he'd heard. Had a bit of a weird looking face, and a bit of a weird thing for preaching. Still.

Aubrey Davis in The Under-Sofa


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Total Madness
#1
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January 8th, 1889 — General Break Room, Ministry of Magic Offices

"Something must be done about this," he said to no one in particular as he sat, one leg crossed over his knee as he read the the latest edition of the Prophet. It had been almost a year since Albert moved from the lawyer offices to the Research Committee, but he had yet to shake the impulse desire to start piecing together an imaginary case the moment something outrageous was revealed in the papers.

While the pureblood had few personal experiences with vampires, he was not all too fond of beings overall. An altercation with a veela last spring had left him a household name for a short time, but even after that, little had been done about the growing problem in their society. He had accepted halfbloods as acquaintances, and was tolerable towards muggleborns for society sake, but beings? His thin facade of indifference towards them had all but faded over the past year.

"Men marrying veelas, vampires running funeral homes - this is madness." And probably illegal on some level, if anyone had thought to go digging through centuries-old laws and regulations.

(But, of course, nobody had, because the Ministry was being run by a self-righteous liberal. That was not, however, an opinion he was willing to voice aloud in his place of work.)




fabulous set by the fabulous Lady
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#2
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He'd read the article this morning, though he'd heard word of the incident int he auror's office the past few days, though he hadn't been directly involved in the case. His work tended to specialize in humans though he supposed he could be called on to work on a non-human case if he was needed. Regardless, he glanced up from his paperwork, confused at the sudden outburst. The man who had spoken sat a few seats over from where Jules had camped.

"Mhhmm I have larger concerns than the two you just listed," he drew out, head crocked on an angle. "Like the fact we just found a what? Ten-year-old girl? Dead and drained on what should be our turf. She was a part of the carnival according to the article. She was likely an orphan then or at least no longer under the care of her family. There would have been no one then, to agree to use her blood to pay for a funeral. That funeral home has been open far longer than your parents were alive and possibly even your grandparents. They wouldn't be open this long without gaining a lick of business sense - regardless of if they are human or not."

"What I'm saying is they'd likely know better than draining a girl and dumping her body in the woods. Not so close to the death of Mr. Powers. It would be traced back to them and then the ministry would no longer be able to turn a blind eye. They'd be closed. As far the veelas, frankly, that's up to the man. When does the ministry get involved in marriages? But we have at least one rogue vampire on the loose who has no fear killing so close to town. And likely will strike again. If it is only one."

"But yes, something need to be done."


[Image: mSMnBX.jpg]
bree does things!
#3
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The corner of Albert's lip turned up into a little sneer. Preach, preach, preach - that was all the man could do. Not that he would take Scrimgeour's advice for anything, even if he was an investigator; with a felon father and sister who was no better than a common whore, there was obviously bad blood running through their veins.

"I don't think the identity of the victim matters," he said coldly. "Nor the particular identity of the vampire. They're a danger to society, and I doubt anyone with a grain of sense would think otherwise." Vampires were designed to drink blood - the blood of a human - and there were only two things that happened to wizards and witches who suffered under the bite of a vampire: death or the loss of their magic, the loss of their livelihood, and eternal damnation in the form of a cold-blooded killer.

"And I don't think their 'business sense' is relevant either; the clever means of making a living -" Not to mention the nature of their occupation, and how shady it could quickly become without proper regulation. "- should cause more concern than comfort."

He let the subject of veela wives die on the tip of his tongue; it was bound to get nasty.




fabulous set by the fabulous Lady
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#4
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Once upon a time, her brother had run this building, but unfortunately Lyra had never really had a good sense of its layout, even then. She'd only ever come to visit Darcy, which involved a trip through the Atrium and a short lift ride directly to his office. She wasn't even sure she could have managed that, though, after her several years away; construction had changed the floorplan in ways even she could recognize. Her trips to and from the Ministry since she'd arrived last year had been limited to visiting the blood bank, which was her errand today.

She would have been out of the building already had the lift doors on the floor she required not been under repair. As a result, she hadn't been able to go straight to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but had had to pick a nearby floor and exit there, then wander in search of the stairs, which she hadn't found yet.

What she did find was a room full of men apparently taking time off of work to talk about her — or those like her, at any rate. She approached the doorway in time to hear rouge vampire, and kept her expression carefully neutral for the rest of their conversation until she could find a changce to interrupt.

"Excuse me," she said politely, keeping her mouth as small as possible so as not to seem as though she were intentionally barring her fangs. "I'm looking for the stairs?"


because I could not stop for Death
He kindly stopped for me — the Carriage held but just Ourselves — and Immortality.


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