It was a slow night at the Leaky Cauldron, with only a few people in the bar. Only a few single people, anyway. There were a few middle-aged couples out to get dinner and a few drinks after a long day at work, and some rowdy teenagers from Hogwarts that always came in hordes. As a direct result of these slim pickings, Remy had been sitting alone at the bar nursing the same drink she had gotten almost an hour earlier. Each time the door opened, she would casually look over her shoulder to see if any better prospects would step through the door, but so far no luck.
Having grown bored with tonight’s dismal opportunities, Remy stood up from her stool and drained the whiskey from her glass, and as she went to put the tumbler back on the bar she felt a searing sensation on her forearm, which could only mean one thing. She was wearing a long sleeved shirt, concealing her secret from those around her, and she didn’t want to check with so many potential witnesses, so instead, she grabbed her coat and slipped out the door, inching her sleeve up once she was outside to confirm that it was indeed the dark mark – back in its original form – which was glowing on her skin.
It was a brisk walk to Malfoy Manor, but she didn’t have another alternative method of transportation, so when the dark-haired woman arrived at the mansion her cheeks were flushed with cold and her hair windswept. Only a few other members had arrived earlier than she had, which was surprising considering they all, presumably, had apparition at their disposal. The one standing near the fringes of the room – Diggory – was at least passably interesting to Remy, both for his physique and his surname, which may or may not have fared him well. The women already in the room registered a much smaller response on Remy’s radar. One, a professor at Hogwarts, had some clout within the Death Eaters for her ability to influence the coming generation or whatever nonsense the Death Eaters were spewing these days. Another, a dark-haired temptress that reminded Remy a bit of herself, but in a much less polished form. This woman wasn't fooling anyone, and she didn't know how to fake a multitude of emotions. She came across perpetually as a flirt, which would win many men, Remy knew, but there were more needs a woman had than those that were physical. The final young woman Remy knew relatively little about; in fact, she had never seen her before. Whoever this girl was, and whatever the story behind the other two, from Remy’s perspective, they were all merely hindrances. These women were all good-looking in their own ways, and Remy didn’t like the desirable men in the room to have to be making a decision.
The man sitting at the end of the table, however, was someone of interest. Surname Elldir, though those close to him called him Thoar, he was a middle-aged man with significant power and influence. He had holds in Hogwarts, sat on the Wizengamot, and from what Remy had heard, his bank account assets were as numerous as his personal achievements. And now, among these others titles, he seemed to have taken on the role of the leader of the Death Eaters, which, in contrast with the last leader being a woman, was preferable to Miss Devaul.
Moving from her place in the doorway, Remy nodded respectfully toward Thoar and took up a place along the wall. Remy’s position within the Death Eaters had never been high enough to warrant her a place at the table, nor did she want one; if she were seated among the more elite, she would be more heavily scrutinized. It was much easier to deceive the other members of the Dark Lord’s army when she wasn’t overly close to them, and so Remy remained in the more shadowed outskirts of the room, waiting for the meeting to begin.
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