alt_jeremy

Things are sorted at the Manor. Sandoval’s offerings are laid out, and ours are in reserve with stasis charms, except for the pasties. Need to have some honest grub set out alongside all those charm-spangled one-bite wonders.

Remember how the blokes were laughing about opening a pub called Rubbish Service? Clementine Summerby and Moe Darst are actually going to do it. Clem’s got the Gryffindor touch; she’ll make a fine door supervisor. Moe can bring the ‘Puff friendliness and play the welcoming publican. Ought to work. The advertisements practically write themselves.

Have something to ask you. Bit of a favour, actually. Maureen and I are getting married in the spring. We’d like you to be a bridesmaid. We’ll be asking Sally-Anne as well. Would you?

Sparks now visible at Dover stone. Green. Fountaining at intervals of two minutes.

Stone now making crackling noises, very faint. Sounds like a fry-up from the next room.

Ten minutes to go. Magical energy build-up nearly complete. Cecilia says circulation and linkages seem adequate.

Principle ritual phase complete; work proceeding. Finnigan alive. Rookwood dead.

Sorry, a little shook, but we’re good. Rookwood apparated screaming into the ritual area just before the tick of midnight as Siz finished observations. She took him out with Farmington’s Asphyxia. Bloody fast, she is. Remind me never to be on the receiving end of a curse from her. We levitated the body off the pitch. Ritual continuation unimpeded. Continuing with observations until next phase of blooding.

Told the parents I'll be rambling this weekend with some mates. Promised I'd be in safe areas. Well, Moddey's safe, yeah?

Yes, I'm taking from now until Monday morning. Maureen has a positively indecent look of triumph. Setting her on me was unfair. Also quite effective.

Mind you get a bit of holiday yourself, or I'll set Weasleys on you. Note the plural. I'm not above calling in favours for a bit of revenge here.

We're receiving students at the staging point. Wounded but stabilized, mostly. Some unharmed.

Lists when there's time.

Be safe, all.

Those of you outside the agricultural and food processing sector may not be aware, but the Protectorate is looking out for our well-being in a new, expensive and annoying way. Health inspections are now required for such businesses employing halfbloods. There's an inspection fee. There's also a fee for registering to be eligible for the inspection. Separate paperwork for each halfblood employee, and a fee for each, of course. Due every month.

It starts tomorrow. The parents have been going spare about it all weekend. I expect they're not the only ones. Something for the broadcasts, perhaps? What's her name, that former official -- she'd probably have something to say about it.

I'm at Settlement Five, finishing up. Had to check over security after a bit of a scare. Just shadows and imagination. No blame; everyone's

Was going to write "on edge" but truth is, everyone's more than a quaffle-throw past the edge.

What I meant to write about is I have a mate who's working with his uncle as a rubbish-hauler. Told him I had an idea for doing a good turn and making a small bit of coin at the same time. Discussed delivering goods to them as needed, under cover of the regular rounds, the goods being food on the cheap for people the Protectorate isn't protecting quite well enough. (His words, those.) Extra food -- scraps from the jam operation and similar places -- at a cheap price would go a fair way towards winning trust. Pansy, this may fit in with some of what you're doing as well, if having rubbish haulers willing to discreetly haul away not-exactly-rubbish proves useful. We could start small, but we'd be setting up more contacts for that additional distribution network we talked about, getting it ready for the day things change.

That day can't come soon enough. I didn't see anything near the worst of it today, but looking in the eyes of the people who did -- Merlin. This has to end.

Can't get away. Gemma's so terrified she's been sicking up. Parents want me to stay. Philip's holding my hand. Hasn't needed done that in years. Children crying all round us. They're not the only ones losing it.

If this doesn't make it clear where the Protectorate is headed I don't know what will.

No need to respond. Wish I could be there. Give 'em hell.

If you do evacuate all the Galleon holders, give me a shout so I can come look after Philip? If Alice doesn't have me somewhere else, I mean.

And stay safe yourself, yeah?