The evening grows dark as a certain Scottish Auror waits in the shadows having expertly transfigured himself with the face of a local to expertly cover his tracks. His informant had already led him to a small village on the outskirts of a small town. Auror Alastor Moody quietly waits in the dark of the night until finally, he spots several hooded figures emerge from the village and disperse.

Alastor stays put as he waits and waits as the minutes trickle slowly by until at last four hooded figure emerge and escort the fifth figure away. Alastor reaches for his wand and halts as he instantly recalls the handwritten warning on Rowan's note. "Tom Riddle may or may not be able to sense bloodlust much like that of a snake. You must take caution and not be hasty in your endeavors. But may I suggest you get one or two helping hands..."

Alastor's cursed at himself as he reluctantly withdraws his hand and watches them vanish into the dark horizon. Certain of their disappearance, Alastor reflexively reaches for his wand and apparated back to the outskirts of the Ministry of Magic.

With narrowed eyes, Alastor marches through the front doors to glance around to find the Ministry as usual at this late hour is largely empty. The main lobby floor is level eight the Atrium, as there are right and left, large gilded fireplaces connected to the Floo Network are now rather quiet. Occasionally the right-hand gilded fireplace lights up as a straggling witch or wizard departs for the night.

Alastor marches across the tile floor as the peacock blue ceiling has symbols moving across it. The glistening Fountain of Magical Brethren lies halfway down the Atrium as a group of golden statues, depicting a wizard, a witch, a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf, spout water into the surrounding pool of water. Alastor doesn't even pause to glance at the fountain as his gaze is locked on the golden gates. Next to the gates at a stand sits a tired poorly shaved man in peacock blue robes, who tiredly yawns, Eric Munch.

Alastor nods at Eric Munch as he shows him his badge. "No rest for the weary, aye?" Alastor commented.

"Aye, tis wasn't my turn for the night watch, but Simian called in sick. And blimey, now here I am," Munch grumbled. Munch waves Alastor through as Munch returns to tiredly resting his eyes for a minute or two.

Alastor moves past the open golden gate into the small second hall to the lifts. Alastor steps into the empty lift and heads down to the 2nd floor, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. As usual, at this time in the evening, there is still one or two late-night owls at the office with the two Auror's on duty.

Alastor marches into an open shared area of the Aurors. Typically, this cluttered area would be full of the buzzing of chatter, laughter, and memo's zooming in and out like miniature rockets. A lopsided sign on the nearest cubicle reads, AUROR HEADQUARTERS. The cubicle walls are covered with everything from pictures of wanted wizards and photographs of their families to posters of their favorite Quidditch teams, and articles from the Daily Prophet.

On duty for tonight are Fabian and Gideon Prewett. Crimson hair and a rather large nose, Fabian glances up from the wizarding chessboard as Alastor Moody slams the door shut behind him. Gideon on the hand, quite the handsome fellow rebelliously crossed his arms over his broad chest leaning back into his seat. "Do you need something, Auror Moody?" Fabian quietly asked.

"I need your help," Alastor grudgingly said.

Fabian and Gideon stare at each other in astonishment. "Forgive me, Auror Moody, but you never take partners," Fabian stammered.

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Much more suspicious, Gideon narrows his eyes and says, "What exactly have you gotten yourself into Alastor Moody that you need our help?"

"If I tell you, you need to swear an unbreakable vow of silence on the subject," Alastor growled.

Gideon and Fabian's eyes widen at the severity in Auror Moody's voice. "If we do, what will this condone?" Gideon cautiously asked.

"Everything," Alastor truthfully stated.

"We'll trust you, this time," Fabian replied, after a shared look and nod with Gideon. Gideon and Fabian each take turns as serving as the witness as they vow to maintain a vow of silence on the subject to be spoken about that even on the pain of death itself, they would never break their vows.

"Now, what is this about?" Gideon finally said.

"Not here," Alastor grunted and motioned them to follow them back to his highly secure safehouses.

Back at one of Moody's safehouses, Alastor motions them to take a seat as he casts a spell of concealment in case of any listeners. Seeing Auror Moody so paranoid, the Gideon and Fabian stare at each other with worry. It couldn't be that Auror Moody finally lost it, due to his great paranoia, could it?

Finally, Alastor takes a seat before them and gruffly says, "I'd offer you a meal, but I don't have any food here."

"We're fine," Fabian politely declined. Alastor grunts and furrows his brow as if choosing his words. After a long lapse of silence, Fabian and Gideon eye each other with worry as they fear their worst fears are realized. Alastor Moody had finally lost his marbles.

Clearing his throat finally, Alastor slowly says, "What if I told you, that in a few years' time, we will be facing the greatest war the wizarding world has ever seen?"

"I'd say you've gone mad," Gideon fearlessly retorted. "Unless you've spoken to a seer."

"And if I did, what if I told you that it started all with one man, who is barely on the Ministry of Magic's radar?" Alastor grumbled.

"Then I'd ask that you tell us more," Fabian quickly interjected.

Alastor takes a list of names and shows it to them. "All those on this list are individuals who have associated themselves with a man called, Tom Riddle. A former student of Hogwarts and now is a dark wizard threatening to destroy the world as we all know it," Alastor frankly said.

Gideon lets out a whistle at few of the names on the list but most especially at the ones belonging to higher ranks. "What is all of this?" Fabian gloomily said as he read the list.

"Traitors," Alastor quietly said. "A farseer requested for my aid and granted me these names. At first, I thought she was mad, but I reluctantly went and confirmed the truth with my very own eyes. They are all traitors, or should I say, Death Eaters."

"Death Eaters?" Gideon asked.

"That is what they call themselves, Death Eaters, the dark army of -," Alastor abruptly halts and says, "Someone's here!"

Instantly, Gideon and Fabian reach for their wands as Alastor. The unknown hooded figure in the shadows watches the house from the quiet shadows. "It's not safe here," Alastor whispered. "Do you both recall the contents of the list?"

Gideon and Fabian mutely nod as Alastor destroyed the list with a flicker of his wand into dust, before carefully shoving the dust into his pocket. "Go!" Alastor said as the two apparated away before Moody swiftly did the same. Eventually, the hooded figure would depart but not until morning at failing to see anyone exiting or entering the house.

Meanwhile, somewhere in the darkness of a forest, a hooded figure stared up at the sky. "Dark Lord is there something wrong?" A tall dark-haired woman asked.

A man with deathly pale skin tilts his face upward to reveal a waxy face with sharp cheekbones that have yet to turn into skull-like features of the future. The snake-like slits for nostrils have yet to appear, but his nose does appear to be less sharp than before. And thou still lacking snake-like pupils, the blood-red eyes of the future are already present. Dark long hair faintly hangs across Lord Voldemort's tall, slim shoulders as he frowns. "Something is wrong," Lord Voldemort icily remarked.

"Milord, we have already sent someone to check for tails, but there are none," the tall woman replied. The woman has long, silky midnight colored hair, thin lips, dark, heavy-lidded eyes, and a strong jaw. A strong confident beauty, Bellatrix Lestrange. Bellatrix is still as beautiful as ever and not yet the ruined gaunt woman of the future, after her stint in Azkaban.

Lord Voldemort pressed his lips together as if thought, before saying, "Push the date of our plans forward." The Death Eaters cheer in excitement as they follow Lord Voldemort into the shadows. And thusly so, once more the cogs of fate have begun to turn.