Olivia- Thank you for the tea. Know that I am looking forward to your visit, and that my home is always open. -Xenophilius
The message was short, but it said many things. Xenophilius Lovegood hadn't received any tea from Olivia Hornswallow. At least not recently. The only thing she'd sent him was the location of Harry Potter, and the date of the Weasley boy's wedding. She wasn't planning on visiting, and he wasn't preparing for her to visit either. His home, though, was always open, even if that wasn't what he was referring to.
Olivia tucked the letter inside her pocket and nodded once to the hooded figure in front of her. The figure turned and left without a single word. She waited until they were out of sight before turning and entering the tavern behind her.
The Leaky Cauldron wasn't as hopping as it used to be, but it was loud enough to feel comforting to Olivia. The bartender, a squib named Percival, made eye contact with her. She nodded once, and picked up a tray from a nearby table. She put on a smile and began clearing tables. A group of old wizards, who had been consuming plenty of drinks that night, were speaking loudly of matters that had been in the Daily Prophet that morning. Olivia, being the clever and cunning witch she was, hung back to listen.
"Hear You-Know-Who's got some new recruits," said one with a beard. "Going around, calling themselves Snatchers."
"The Daily Prophet said they're helping the Ministry," said one with a hat.
Another with a pipe stuck in his mouth mumbled, "Can't trust those frauds at the paper. I heard, same as Kingsley, they're in cahoots with the Dark Lord."
"Snatchers, you say?" asked a warty man. "What do these Snatchers do?"
"I heard they take witches and wizards in for questioning," said the one with the hat. "They're looking for information, I reckon."
"What sort of information are they looking for?" asked the bearded wizard.
"Who knows," said the one with the pipe. "What sort of information do Muggle-borns and runaways have to offer?"
Olivia looked up. Muggle-borns?
"They ain't just taking Muggle-borns," said the one with the hat. "Most don't show up again after the Snatchers get 'em."
"Yeah, and ain't it a coincidence that the Dark Lord is tryin' to clean up the wizard blood?" snorted the bearded one.
"You know what I think?" the warty one said. "I think they're telling them the Ministry wants to question them, when all along they-"
"Olivia," hissed Percival.
Olivia nearly dropped the plates she was holding, and she snapped out of the conversation.
"We're done for the night," Percival said. "No more customers after this lot leaves."
Olivia nodded and hurried off. All she knew was groups of new Death Eaters were taking Muggle-borns, and it wasn't much to base any sort of conclusion on. The only thought she could possibly think was that she would need to watch her back.
***
"Boss?"
Scabior looked up. Two young men shrouded in dark coats with the hoods drawn up were looking expectantly at him. Each of them held a struggling man against the wall. Scabior walked up to the first man, being held by a Snatcher named Pontius, and he leaned in close.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Dedrick Gamerson," said the man, his voice echoing against the stone walls.
A third Snatcher named Rasmussen, standing not too far away from Scabior, opened the little book in his hand. He flipped a few pages, but to the man's dismay, he shook head.
"No, please," cried Gamerson. "I'm half-blood! My mother was a witch, and my father died when I was very young-"
"Shut up," sighed Scabior, walking over to the second man.
The Snatcher, a werewolf named Fenrir Greyback, pressed the man further against the wall. The man cried out, but Greyback did not let up.
"Name," Scabior said.
"Shimon Francheski," the man muttered.
Scabior turned back to Rasmussen, who was searching in his little book. He shook his head again, and Scabior began pacing calmly in the alley.
"Take them to the Ministry," he said. "The pink one's gonna like these two."
Gamerson began shouting, but in less than a second, the gang had disappeared.