Four men, each dressed in black, bustled with the crowds. The hum wasnt so loud today, what was left of the usual morning chatter was almost silent. The four men trudged through the less than enthusiastic crowds managing to catch up with the fifth member of their own team. 

"Nott, you look rough." One man commented, catching him on the shoulder. The man turned and nodded, gesturing their voices down low. George pulled the first man in close and frowned. 

"Snatchers."

"You can't be serious?" 

"I caught a message. Found them all hunting muggle borns near Holt." The five all sighed. People were aware, it was haunting them all but now they all knew just how quickly it was escalating. "I honestly don't think flyers and education is going to stop this." Voices were dropped low, almost to nothing. George soon continued his way towards the elevators. 

No one spoke of snatchers, giants, or the number of muggle murders that seemed unsolvable to muggle police. The Auror's were dealing with those, which continued much to George's own resentment. He were playing by rules and adhering to the slightest instruction. He'd do a good job and eventually get his place there. The lift gave a ping as the door's opened on the second floor. 

"Department for Magical Law Enforcement." A voice rang, sweet and somehow unaffected by all the paranoia and incoming terror. All but George left the lift. 

"You not coming, Nott?" George shook his head.

"They were Spanish." He commented simply. The doors were slid shut as the lift continued another floor up. The voice rang out once more and he stepped off. He was grateful for his team's silence on the matter. The last half of their staff needed was to panic over family and children; of course most of which would be shipped back to school in the next week. 

George made a hasty dash for someone within the department. He nodded and smiled. An emotion that was dropped as soon as the selected staff member had drifted off behind him. He finally reached a door and pushed it open; he'd never cared for knocking. 

"Quinn?" He asked, soon spotting her. He whistled her over and stepped outside the office. "Two things really." He pulled up his left sleeve. "What the hell is this?" During a duel in the previous evening, before either of the two nearest Auror's had apirated, George had found himself hit with what had seemed like a simple home-brewed hex. However, the long tree like mark on his arm- He wasn't entirely comfortable. 

"Second thing-" He gestured her closer. "Frenis hates me, I need this files owled to Spain, this morning." He handed over a selection of sealed parchments. Grimsur Frenis was the Head of the Department for International Magical Cooperation, and after number visits on behalf of his own team, both George and himself had grown to dislike each other. The former had guessed it to be for his severe lack of manners and polite lies.