Collab between McHaggis and I
**2nd of December, 1999**
Aldenberg Manor was suspiciously quiet, for the base of operations for what would be a dangerous, possibly fatal rendezvous with an as of yet unknown Death Eater. The ‘spy’ would either be useful, or damn the entire resistance.
_It’ll be fine,_ Siobhan reckoned against her better judgement as she carefully strapped her wand holster to her leg and flung a lighter winter’s cloak over her shoulders. Being a part of the away team for a mission as crucial as this was a rare occurrence, mostly because Ronan hated the possibility of being down a mediwitch if things were to go south. That she was actually permitted to go was nothing short of a miracle, the results of months of nagging.
The plan was simple: the main strike force would Apparate in, each to a different street for maximum security-slash-paranoia. Then, they had to deal with whatever awaited them be it a repenting Death Eater willing to share secrets and information or one who just wanted to turn in the heads of a few members of the Ashes for some extra kudos from Voldemort. There was so much that could go wrong, for such a simple run, but Siobhan prided herself on being an optimist and an optimistic mindset she would force herself into even though her stomach was churning with nervous butterflies.
Eric walked into the room, and greeted Siobhan, who was geared up and ready for the possibility – the inevitability, the more wary members of the organization felt – of a battle. He put on a light cloak himself, standing next to her. “Has Kyle reported in with the results of his reconnaissance yet?” he asked her. _It’d be a shame if we find out this is a trap,_ Eric thought. A spy could truly be useful, and a nice, friendly chat wouldn’t bother Eric one bit either.
Siobhan smoothed down the front of her robes. “By Patronus, yeah. If I remember correctly – which I do, of course, because it’s important – there was no sign of any dark activity in the area. No ambush in sight; however, it would be a pretty poor ambush if they _were_ seen, right?”
Eric nodded, tempted to laugh, but preventing it due to the weight of the situation. “A poor ambush, indeed. I suppose we’ll have to be extremely careful, even if everything looks clear. We can’t be too sure, although I’d love for this to be nothing more than a chat,” Eric agreed.
“You know where you’re Apparating to? I’d hate to have to fix up a splinching,” Siobhan asked, and was answered almost immediately with a nod. “Good. I believe Kyle’s still out scouting. We can never be too careful these days, you know? I’ll be fetching him before heading down to the cafe. Could always use another strong fighter to defend our backs while we whip out the ol’ Diplomacy.”
Eric nodded again. “I just hope that Jia doesn’t get too uh– _carried away._ If this turns out to be a legitimate turncoat, it’d be a damn shame if we ruined it by being overly aggressive.”
“You mean hitting the guy with a wee avada keda-vy?” Siobhan asked, without even the barest hint of humour. This time Eric couldn’t help but laugh, unable to stay serious despite the mood the situation had blown over Aldenberg Manor. “Hey! I’m being serious here!”
Eric hastily stifled his laughter. “No, you’re right. I definitely wouldn’t put it past her, I’m afraid.” Eric paused, before continuing, with the slightest hint of a laugh sneaking its way back into his voice: “_Wee avada keda-vy? Really?_”
Siobhan sniffed, chin tilted upwards in a perfect picture of pureblood superiority – almost as if she wouldn’t lower herself to dignify the question with a response. As she walked to the door of the manor, however, she stared at Eric with the corners of her lips turned downwards. “I trust my allies, Eric,” she said carefully. “Right up until the moment they send a curse at my back.”
Eric paused, realizing something. “Speaking of our allies, where has Jia gone?” he questioned, although not expecting Siobhan to be able to answer. _Jia was likely preparing for a war, not a diplomacy mission,_ Eric suspected.
“Getting ready,” Siobhan replied with a shrug. “If things _do_ take a turn for the worse, she’s the one I want there, ready to do what needs to be done, even if it is… excessive.” The witch decided that was the best time to take her leave, marching outside to the edge of the wards through sodden grass and mud that sucked on her shoes. The moment she felt the wave of magic pass over her – the empty, unprotected feeling – she disappeared with a violent crack.
Eric followed her out, closing the door behind him. He wielded his wand – for all he knew, there might be a Death Eater staring him in the face the second he arrives in London – and as he passed the magical border separating the manor from the rest of the world, he shuddered. After being in a place of such concentrated magic for a while, walking back into the ordinary air never failed to feel incredibly odd. Deciding to exit with style – regardless of the fact that he had no audience to be fancy for – he spun on the spot, his cloak trailing behind him, and vanished with a satisfying crack, much like Siobhan had done just moments prior.