January 15th, 1893 — Neighborhood in London

She recognized him right away, though she did consider that maybe that was due to the Ministry robes. If he had been dressed in street clothing, maybe she wouldn't have pieced it together right away. Maybe she would have looked at him a second longer, struck by the feeling that he was familiar but drawing a blank as to exactly when or where she might have seen him. Maybe her breath would not have caught in her throat and her heart would not have started pounding.

But she doubted it. She hadn't known so many people, when it came right down to it. She had spent so many years Inside, avoiding the world so that the world would not feel the need to avoid her. Her mental catalogue of familiar faces was more slender than most women her age. And his face was one of the important ones — one of the dangerous ones. She thought she probably would have recognized Mr. Xavier Stanwell anywhere.

He had not recognized her, of course — she did not even know if he had seen her. Even if he had, there was nothing to recognize, because she had sipped her polyjuice before she'd left the dingy flat, and she looked entirely unlike herself. Just a pregnant widow going about her shopping. People didn't like to notice her, she had found. She was used to this — Before, people had either stared or looked away too quickly, too conscious of being caught staring. It was like that now, too, but for different reasons. People didn't like to think about pregnant widows, she hypothesized. It made them uncomfortable to stand side by side with tragedy, so they preferred not to notice her. This suited her fine. It was a shame that she wouldn't look pregnant much longer, really.

Whether he had seen her or not, she considered turning around and going back home — but this would probably draw attention, moreso than continuing on with the shopping she'd been planning to do. She could have excused it, claimed she'd forgotten something at home, but it was better not to do anything that might attract suspicion. Let her go unnoticed. People didn't like to notice her, anyway. Maybe Mr. Stanwell was one of those. She could hope. Even if there was nothing that might give her away about her appearance currently, she didn't like the idea of talking to him.

Magnolia Addams forced herself to look away from the man in the Ministry robes, towards the other end of the street, and stepped off the curb towards the nearest vendor of root vegetables. She had her black hat drawn tight around her face and a basket on her arm — perfectly normal. Perfectly unnoticeable. Her heart was still pounding, her breath had still caught, but there was nothing to notice. She had to keep saying that as she walked across the street: there is nothing to notice. He will not notice you. There is nothing to notice.

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Xander Stanwell

  

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pinned my hopes to the summit of someday

Magnolia

When Miss Urquhart hadn't appeared as required, it set off alarms in Xander's mind. Werewolves were dangerous--that was why they had a system for this kind of thing, to avoid anybody being hurt by the beasts' lack of control. Now, it would be his job (and the job of his coworkers, but he felt strongly about it) to make sure that she was returned before the next one.

Of course, this was easier said than done, especially considering that he had been briefly off duty due to a rather nasty grindylow attack. But the members of the Werewolf Capture Unit rarely had anything to do in the days that were considerably before any full moons, and Xander relished the chance.

It was almost like hunting. His father had taken him many times over the years, and while Miss Urquhart took the shape of a lady most days and nights, he knew that she could not be allowed to take the beastly form of the full moon, not when it meant innocent people could get hurt. He wished werewolves would understand that.

"Excuse me. I work with the Ministry. Have you seen this woman?" Xander asked a few bystanders, holding up a photo from her file. They shook their heads. Considering how notable Miss Urquhart had been, he was almost certain that it was out that she had gone missing, but nobody had been able to give him any tips.

He walked up the street. His eyes caught on a woman he hadn't yet questioned, a face that was vaguely familiar--maybe a former Hogwarts classmate? What made him uncomfortable was the outfit, which suggested widowhood, and the belly, which suggested that she was...ahem, with child.

Quite sad. Hopefully this woman had a brother to protect her, or maybe her husband's family. He was quite protective of Eira after her husband...died. Xander shook his head, but approached regardless. Any source of clues would be a good one, and at that point he needed a lead.

"Excuse me, madam?" Xander nodded his head respectfully. "I'm sorry to interrupt your shopping, but I work with the Ministry. We're looking for a woman who could be quite dangerous."

Xander extended the photograph to her. "Have you seen her?"

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Thank you so much, Athena!

He had noticed her, and her heart started beating even faster when she realized he was talking to her. But he wasn't calling her out, and he didn't seem suspicious. There was nothing to notice, she repeated to herself internally. He was just talking to everyone, it seemed. She turned her eyes to him, then to the picture — one that she recognized, of course. It took her only a fraction of a second to realize this was an opportunity. Obviously she did not look like this picture now, but if she took a very good look then she could know exactly what everyone else was looking for; she could take some measures to not look so much like this at home, either. So she studied it, biting her lower lip.

"No," she said eventually, turning her eyes back up to Stanwell. "What's dangerous about her?" she asked, in her American accent. "She looks so young."

It was probably better if she just said no and moved on, but — she was curious what he would say.

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pinned my hopes to the summit of someday

Magnolia

Xander was briefly surprised to hear an American accent from the young woman. Perhaps her late husband had been an Englishman? Or she had friends here that were assisting in what he assumed might be a difficult period for a woman.

It was also likely why she wasn't aware of Miss Urquart's troubles. Well, it would be best to keep the poor young woman informed of the dangers, in case she did encounter the young werewolf--what if she ran into Miss Urquart first hand? Yes, best to protect her from her ignorance.

"She's a werewolf." Xander stated plainly. When it came to this, there was to be no confusion. "And while she may be young, this doesn't stop the beast inside her from being able to do considerable damage should it get loose."

Xander demonstrated his badge, showing that he was a member of the Werewolf Capture Unit. "It is the job of my department to protect others from werewolves like her. The procedure is relatively simple--but this young woman has missed a check in, and so her whereabouts are unknown."

He shook his head. He didn't think it was too hard to stay in a room for three days. He would've much preferred it, in fact, to going wild and potentially hurting someone.

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Thank you so much, Athena!

Did he really think she planned to let the beast inside run loose, as he put it? She had known Xavier Stanwell for years. Granted, she had not known him well — they had barely ever exchanged more than glances in the Ministry hallways on her way to and from the holding cells, much less held a real conversation — but she had supposed that perhaps he'd been exposed to her long enough and often enough that he might view her as an actual human being. Evidently not. His response was rote werewolf; he might as well have been reading it from a script. Had he never seen any of the people his unit worked with as real people? Maybe that was one of the requirements for working there, she reflected; it probably wouldn't be a career anyone could stay in if they considered that their work was not saving people from monsters, but increasing the comfort of some people at the expense of the liberty of others.

She pursed her lips. "I'll keep my eyes open." For him and his coworkers, not for Topaz Urquart.

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pinned my hopes to the summit of someday

Magnolia

Xander grinned at the young woman. Hopefully he hadn't frightened her too much. Women had such delicate constitutions that it was a hard balance to strike between informing her of the danger and scaring her so that she fainted. She did seem a touch frustrated, and Xander ran his hand through his hair in embarrassment. Obviously she thought he'd failed his duty, to have let such a danger run away.

"Thank you, madam. But don't confront her, even if she is in her human form. Just let us know." Xander extended a card with the address of the Werewolf Capture unit. Since she sounded American, she probably didn't even have an idea of what the Ministry was like.

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Thank you so much, Athena!