AN: I'm back!Sorry about that, readers, hopefully I can get back on track now. And yes this is a late/early update, the schedule of every Thursday should continue this coming Thursday. And a full 300 words this chapter, on the dot, when you exclude this over-long AN.
Sandwich is from imgur dot com /gallery/eZCua. The shop it came from (George's) does not exist. And, surprise, there's going to be a cameo in a few chapters. Perhaps you can guess who it will be, and here's a hint: They aren't from HP-verse or the Saint's 'verse.
Feather Fifty Three
The reports weren't very helpful, at first. Britain was quiet – too quiet, for what should have been going on, but . . . Perhaps since the fall of Hogwarts, there had been little resistance. Little clear resistance, anyway.
Siobhan rubbed along one of the deep lacerations on her torso, frowning in thought. (The wound itself followed her ribs from apex down towards her hip; It was starting to heal, scabbed and scarring well, for a curse wound, according to Alannah. It also itched almost constantly.)
Dealing with the rot in Britain – with the Dark Lord and his followers – completely would be difficult. Nearly impossible, in fact, as ideas had an annoying tendency to remain in someone's head – morally reprehensible or not. But they shouldn't be allowed to repress an entire sect of people based on blood or race or magic.
A knock on her door made Siobhan snap the files' folder shut, a small smile already in place as she turned to the door. Ana stood there, holding a large paper bag. "Brought one of those sandwiches you like from George's, and some oblatne and smokva from home," the red-haired woman explained, proffering the bag.
Siobhan's smile widened. Ana's – maternal – grandmother and grandfather were both Russian, and liked to cook. Siobhan certainly loved the desserts they offered when she visited, as Ana rarely offered them otherwise.
Her smile faded after a moment, studying Ana. "Is somethin' wrong?" she asked hesitantly.
The fact that it took Ana a long moment to answer further worried Siobhan.
"My father is going to be released from prison soon," Ana finally admitted. Green eyes met blue, worry clear.
"What did he do?" the witch cautiously asked. Ana grimaced, placing the paper bag on Siobhan's desk, next to the folder.
"He's a murderer."
