He wanted to hit something. Walking along the sidewalk listening to a few drunken muggles fire off obscenities and stumbling to and fro, he wanted to curse them. Though the act would violate several dozen Ministry laws, his emotions demanded release. Suddenly the thought of killing Finius didn't seem so bad. He should have went later. If he did though, he wouldn't have ended up here. Preoccupied with the paperwork and field investigations, there was barely any time to figure out that Phoebe lived within the vicinity. He was too careless. The Circle couldn't know about her.

As the weather took a turn for the gloomy, he took up the shelter of a small alcove. It was time to apparate. The sensations always made him feel like a kid, as if he had spun in a million circles before trying to walk. It made him feel so light. As the mental image of the Ministry came to mind and before he could apparate, a strong grip clutched his arm and pulled. 

Instantly alert, he reached for his wand until he realized who it was. Soaked in the rain, clothes clinging to her skin, Phoebe had ran after him. He frowned.

“Who the hell do you think you are, Ackerman? Ten years—ten fucking years and now you decide to show your face? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Reaching down and grabbing her hand, he gently pried them loose. Force would've made the ordeal easier, but he'd show no violence towards his former best friend. Wanting to say he had no choice, it'd only look like a dumb excuse versus genuine. "You misunderstand the situation," he said hating the steel in his voice. "It was by simple coincidence that we happened to run into each other. It was my mistake. You're married. You're friends keep in you good company. Go back. I'm sure they miss you dearly."

In his peripherals, a cloaked figure appeared out of nowhere. His blood chilled as he gripped Phoebe's shoulder and ushered her towards the store that they stood in front of. He didn't care if she hated him, cursed him, loathed him. This was for her own good. The Circle was perceptive, they would be able to tell what she was. A half-blood. "Stay there. Do [i]not[/i] come out. I can't tell you why, but I'm trying to help you. Forget about this encounter."

When he turned around, Bently stood before him looking at Phoebe then to him. "Am I interrupting?" he asked. The Circle member scrutinized Phoebe before he turned his attention back to Justin. "Oh my dear boy, I do hope this isn't what it looks like."

"It's not," he said as he gave Phoebe a push towards the door. "An extension of courtesy surely isn't problematic. Why are you here Bently?"

"I've come to congratulate you though present circumstances makes me wonder," he said. "You smell like alcohol. You don't drink. From my astute observations anyhow. A round is better with two."

"So what happens now?"

Bently chuckled as he gave Justin a sealed envelop. A seal of an opulent light grey circle with a black dragon traversed right down the middle. He took it. "Marissa was satisfied with the deed, and she has spoke very highly of you to the others. Within contains information concerning induction. It'll give you all that you need to know. Welcome brother. I mean it. Very few receive the honor."

Casting one last glance loathing glance in the direction of Phoebe, Bently walked back into the ran and apparated away.

Pocketing the letter, Justin leaned against the wall. His heart hammered against his feeble bones as they threatened to burst from his chest. He wondered what the Circle's leader would be like. Would he be as vile and cruel as Voldemort or simply the opposite? A series of thoughts ran through his mind as he closed his eyes and simply listened to the rain. It was time to go, he knew that. But he was simply too tired. Today had been taxing on his health - from capturing a wanted wizard to killing an Auror and now this. The situation was anything but ideal, but he was glad. Seeing Phoebe exhumed relief in him. A feeling he hadn't felt in a very long time.