[center][b]1st December, 1999 – Aldenberg Manor
Ronan Findley[/b][/center]
The sound of rustling papers and a mug being placed down on the desk with a heavy, tired hand was all that escaped the quiet parlour in Aldenberg Manor, the plush chairs all vacant except for one. Ronan's good leg was twitching uncontrollably, in equal parts due to exhaustion and frustration; from one too many all-nighters, pouring over maps of Death Eater mansions but mostly the frightening lack of information on the Dark Lord's activities.

For the past few weeks, all was silent when it came to Voldemort, and that was more worrisome than anything else. Thankfully – which was a rather morbid thing to even think of – the now-vast ranks of his followers were as prolific as ever in their killing and hunting and general [i]evil[/i]. Twelve Muggleborns attacked. Five killed. Five sent to Azkaban. The other two...

Well, they'd disappeared. They were beyond the reach of The Ashes, but certainly not the first to vanish – one there, three elsewhere... it was maddening, like a jigsaw puzzle he couldn't fit together. The thought of them itched at the back of his mind, the mystery an almost painful annoyance – not because he was worried for their lives, but the [i]why[/i] of it confused him.

After peering out the large window at the sunset, he nodded to himself. While he forced himself to his feet and limped over to the door with the help of his cane, he opened it with a wave of his wand and hollered, “Meeting's starting in five!” to whoever might have been nearby. Everyone else? He hoped they'd get there on time. Ronan slowly made his way back to his seat at the round table, rubbing at his forehead.