"Hello!" Tam's head popped down from the top part of the window. His hat was somehow still fixed on his head. "How do you do?"
The man clutched at his heart and dropped his glass. He wore a very well-tailored official robe.
Niiiice suit, Tam thought.
"What - what are you doing there?" the man asked.
"Being polite," Tam said. "Can I come in?"
"I...What?"
"Can I come in?" Tam repeated.
"A... And if I refuse?"
"Then I stop being polite."
The man didn't respond, staring at Tam, obviously shocked. Tam hurled himself inside.
The sight of the stranger in his own office must have shaken the official enough for him to recover his wits, as he pulled out his wand at Tam.
"Who the hell are you? And what do you want from me?" he sneered.
"Oh, nothing much." Tam said stalking over to a bowl of peanuts, "Just wanted to ask you a couple of things. Some very interesting business. The important kind of stuff." He popped some peanuts in his mouth.
"Course," Tam continued, gesturing. "There's also a play I wanted to see tonight. Figured I'd go catch the tail end if you're not interested."
The official stared.
"No? All right then. Bye." Tam moved toward the window.
"Wait! Oh, wait! What is wrong with you, you bloody fool?"
Tam held back a smile, tucking it into his pocket for later use.
--------------
Tam found Miranda sitting across the street from a huddle of bruised and obviously angry witches and wizards. Miranda was eating a sandwich.
"Miranda?" he said, looking from the hostile, wounded people back to her.
"Not my fault." She said. "They were being unaccommodating." She took a bite out of her sandwich.
"You all right?" Tam asked.
"Yeah," Miranda said.
"You look tired."
"Yeah, you've been saying that a lot."
"Because you've been looking more and more tired."
"I'll be fine once I get moving."
"You-"
"We are not going to argue about this again. I'm fine."
-------------
Tara secretly dreaded the private lessons with Dumbledore, of which the first was inching very close. She wondered how she'd do it all. Trying to hide what they knew - leaving Snape, the dog, the stone, Nicholas Flamel out of the conversation - would her feel as guilty as sin. Maybe they should tell him, but that was their decision. Tara though, she was just tagging along, and she didn't have the right to tell.
She shivered nonetheless. Chisel, who had fluttered down from the owlery, chirped from her shoulder.
"Yeah, I know he's wise, Chisel." She sighed. "That's probably the most infuriating part. Merlin, it he makes me feel like a child! It's like a part of me wants to let him take care of everythin' by himself, and the other part is cringing with guilt."
Chirp?
"Don't know if there's a solution, Chisel."
Chirp... chirp? "Maybe act like an adult?" it seemed to say.
