Absit Omen RPG

Griffon looked around his office. It was no longer the lush, outdoorsy environment it once was. When he had taken the post as the head of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, the first thing he had done was make his office more comfortable... by turning it into a forest. Now the room looked as it had before he'd taken his position- square, bare, and devoid of any comfort or personality. Sterile, like a freshly cleaned room at St. Mungo's. Griffon hated looking at it. Not as much, though, as he hated looking at the cardboard box on what was once his desk, filled with his various belongings.

He had tried- really tried- to make a good department head. He had been in the world of magical creatures since his graduation from Hogwarts. Even spending almost fifteen years in Tibet wrangling yettis. But things were a lot different now. It seemed that there was less concern in protecting creatures and more concern in protecting humans from them- even if that meant hurting the animals. Griffon believed all animals to be blameless and innocent. He had stopped with the yeti task force because their methods had changed. The yeti were majestic creatures who were being hunted out by the muggles, because of the legends. Instead of moving the yeti to safe places, keeping the humans away- they started killing them. It had been wrong. So, he had left.

But life as a department head wasn't glamorous. Not that Griffon had been under the impression it would be. But it didn't suit him well. He'd thought, back in January when he took up the mantle, that perhaps he just needed time to adjust. It was hard to go from adventuring all of the time to sitting behind a desk pushing papers and delegating responsibility. Griffon felt claustrophobic in the office, which was why it had ended up like a forest. He didn't like being confined to a building, having to follow such strict rules, becoming the sort of man that he'd always resented when he was younger. The upper echelons of management were always so out of touch with reality and how things were...

He was growing tired. Not the kind of tired that came with age... The kind of tired that came with boredom, that came with a soul who was ill at ease. This wasn't the life for him. He was the sort who needed to be on the front lines, be hands on. Griffon needed to be working with the animals, doing something to make a difference, protecting the dangerous and misunderstood. It was just a part of who he was. He could hardly do that from behind a desk at the Ministry of Magic.

Griffon had thought being at the helm would make the difference. He had a lot of real life experience. But things had not been good this year. There had been the influx of werewolf attacks, and the issue of werewolf rights. Griffon had never been able to take a stand on the issue one way or another. And then the problems with the goblins. A problem which instead of addressing head on- he had actively avoided. Finally had been the corruption he was beginning to uncover in his own department- one that almost got Margo Amherst fired. It was obvious many people in the office thought him a buffon. Perhaps their opinions were not wholly incorrect- perhaps he had been ill qualified for the job, and inept at performing once he had received the promotion.

This office had never really felt like home. The work had been more like work, and he lacked the excitement and vigor he once possessed. Perhaps Griffon Manley was not quite as young as he used to be- that was true, but he was far from old and far from used up and worn out.

It had been a difficult decision to make. But he had been searching for something new and different. Something that was exciting. And when Griffon was offered the chance to work with one of the largest dragon reservations the wizarding world had to offer... Well, something in him had ignited. A flame which had burnt down to nothing but coals and embers flared up again. And he knew what he had to do. Griffon knew that this was not the place for him. That he had to leave to save what little was left of his happiness. Find some fight and spirit before he lost it all.

He had chosen to make a quiet departure early on Sunday morning. Hoping to avoid most of his now ex-employees. He wasn't one for prolonged or heartfelt goodbyes. He would be gone. And tomorrow he would be learning his way around a dragon reservation. Just like that, he would be gone from the ministry and moving on to a new chapter in the exciting life of Griffon Manley.

But the last eleven months had not been all bad. He had learned a few things about himself. He had gotten the chance to be there for family when they needed to him, to show support for his god daughter when she had needed him. But he was filled with wanderlust- it had always been that way. He accpted the offer from the dragon reservation, and turned in his resignation from his position. Griffon had named a few worthy people among his department to replace him. He had expressed his appreciation for the opportunity, and had apologized for the manner it which it was all ending. Of course, Griffon had a feeling he would have been fired eventually anyway. His decisions were sometimes brash and questionable, and he had a habit of avoiding some of the more important problems instead of tackling them head on...

That didn't matter, though. Griffon picked up the cardboard box and tucked it under one arm. There was a small part of him which was sad to leave, a part which was dissastisfied with his performance- his seemingly obvious failure at being the head of the department. But that part was drowned out by opportunity and excitement for the future. Dragons were a part of those dangerous and misunderstood creatures. He liked them. And if he could handle yetis, he could handle overgrown lizards who breathed fire- right? And if not, well, he'd rather go down in a blaze of glory instead of slumped over a desk.

Griffon nodded, distracted by his own thoughts. What was going on? Why would they lie to kill a dragon? From what he could tell the injured wasn't related to anyone on the comittee, and it wasn't normal to seek the death penalty for dragons. They were endangered enough, and those who chose to work with them were fully aware of the consequences. He eyes Margo's leg for a moment as he tried to muddle through his thoughts. The "why" seemed to be the missing piece to this puzzle.

"Hopefully you being gone will help weasle them out. If nothing else it buys me time. If they think I'm ignorant, they won't be rushing to cover anything up." Griffon had a serious suspicion there was something going on that reached beyond the death of this dragon. It was too drastic of a measure.

He looked up when she asked if that meant she should leave now. Griffon nodded. "Yeah, suppose you should. Make sure you look good and devastated when you go, though. Hopefully you're a good enough actor for that." He shuffled the papers- along with Margo's offered signature- back into the folder and put it in the bottom drawer of his desk.

Griffon flicked his wand toward the door, swinging it open. "Now get the hell out of my office, Amherst!" he yelled loudly. He might as well put on a good show, too. And Griffon was a big man, his voice carried well- especially when he took care to project properly.

Griffon watched Margo carefully, looking for any obvious signs that she was telling him a lie. She snatched up a shred of paper from his desk and a quill, then signed her name. He'd seen her signature plenty of times before, and arched an eyebrow at her when she handed it to him. He would oblige her, but Griffon had already decided that Margo was guilty and that she would (metaphorically) hang for it.

He took the paper none too gently from her hand, and set it down next to the report he'd been looking at. They were... entirely different. So different that it was hard to believe that she might have done both of them. They also slanted the opposite direction. Whoever had signed off on this report used a different writing hand than Margo did. Griffon frowned, his brows knitted together, and he looked at Margo again.

"Looks like we have a serious problem. I need you to keep this hush hush," he grunted. "There's something foul going on here and I don't like the smell of it. I'll get to the bottom of this," he waved at the folder. "Someone on the committee tried to pull the wool over both of our eyes- and I'm not going to let it happen."

Griffon looked at her again, and sighed. "I'm sorry for yelling at you, Amherst. I just got worked up. There was no reason that dragon had to die. No reason at all. And I'm not going to let these guys get away with it." He snapped the file shut, and dropped it in a drawer.

"Problem is, it's going to take some time to prove something is up. And I don't need them getting antsy in the mean time. I know I'm not law enforcement, and there's not much I can do, but I gotta have enough evidence before I try to get him in trouble for doing what they've done. They could have ruined your entire career, you know," Griffon told her. "I was ready to fire you before you even walked through the door." He rubbed his templed, thinking.

"I'm going to suspend you," he finally stated. "To make them think you're in trouble. But don't worry- you'll still get your paychecks. Think of it as a free two week vacation. That should give me enough time to dig up some dirt and talk to these guys and see what they have to say about this whole situation. Then I'll talk to the DMLE and maybe to the Wizengamot and see what I can do to get them punished."

Griffon nodded, making sounds of approval between bites of rib and shrimp. "Good mixture of classes to take. Especially if you're keeping wand work with classes that don't use a wand. Not everyone is good enough to do both. Most people excell at one or the other. You're lucky." He picked up his glass and took a long drink, then leaned back, wiping his mouth. He had a rib clutched in the other hand. Griffon never was one for manners and decorum when it came to meals.

"History of Magic was always bollocks anyway," he said. "Nothing important you learn. If you aren't going into the field, it doesn't have a bit of practical use. I've never once had to tell someone the names of goblins from goblin rebellions." Though it seemed that information might soon be pertinent, if the whispers and rumors were true.

"Course, Divination is bunk, too," Griffon added. "Least, I always thought it was. Then again, I always wanted to work with animals- so I didn't care about classes I wouldn't need for that. That's the basics, really. Potions, Herbology, Charms, Defense, Transfiguration, and Creatures. Six NEWTs wasn't really bad, all things considered." Griffon finished off the meat on his rib and dropped the bone to the plate.

"So you're already way ahead of where I was, and look at how I've ended up!" Griffon motioned to his office. "In charge of an entire floor of the ministry, even after spending fifteen yars off in another country fighting yetis!"

"The Trace is not shoddy, Ligeia," he told her simply. "You are just lucky enough to be in a position to have gotten away with it. If dad ever gets kicked off the Wizengamot you might not be so lucky. Those rules are in place for a reason. Testing them isn't wise. It might be more for the protection fo the Statute of Secrecy and more of an inconvenince for muggleborns, but don't let that make you careless." But at least she promised to do no more magic- however sinister the promise might have been.

Griffon supposed it was good, though, that his sister had some compassion for the house elf. He just knew that they had a job to do and they did not like wizards getting in the way of doing it. Of course, Griffon had a suspicion that Stumps didn't like him very much. He was never mean to the elf, but Griffon wasn't particularly loving toward him either. He had a very realistic view on magical beings. His compassion for creatures who were incapable of defending themselves against magic was far more pronounced.

He continued to eat while she talked. He loved prime rib and shrimp and everything else she had brought. It certainly beat eating from the atrium or getting something from the Leaky Cauldron. "Good, stick with it," he told her. "And I doubt I'll be mauled by a manticore in the next year. My job is not nearly as hands on as it used to be." Something that Griffon sorely regretted much of the time. He missed action, adventure, and excitement. Desk life didn't suit him very well. It was why he meddled with all of his departments and often with departments outside of his own jurisdiction.

Griffon chuckled at her joke. "No, big game hunting is not something I see you excelling at. Nor is it something I'd want to see you do at all. Hunting animals for sport is cruel. They deserve more respect than that. The only creature in Africa you ever be killing is a nundu- and even then, you're going to need an army of witches and wizards to help you."

"How did you do on your OWLs, anyhow?" Griffon asked. He didn't remember ever hearing about that from his sister or hearing his father mention it. "What classes are you going to take at NEWT level?"

"I don't have to report yuo, Liegia. As a Ravenclaw aren't you supposed to be smart?" Not a very pleasant dig at her, but he didn't want his sister to get in trouble. "They put a trace on you until you're seventeen. They always know when you're doing illegal magic. Dad probably kept you out of trouble for it up until now, but that's not very fair to the other kids who get into serious trouble for it. So don't be using magic in my office- because I will nto save your ass for it."[1]

"Besides, a house elf doesn't need your help. Their magic is good enough to do their jobs, and at least he isn't mistreated like some. I'm sure that Stumps would probably be offended if he found out that you were doing his job for him. House elves are funny little creatures like that."

But at least his sister hadn't cooked the meal. Not that Griffon didn't trust her culinary prowess... Well, actually, he didn't trust it- at all. He was still getting used to the idea of having a sixteen year old albino sister, getting used to her cooking wasn't something on the agenda.

"An OWL is not at all like a NEWT," he countered. "Not for a real job, anyway. OWLs are just a test to see what you can specialize in for your education. Anybody can get an Acceptable on their OWL grades, even if they're bollocks at magic. It takes getting a good grade on a NEWT to prove that you've got real skill with something. But of course, if you wanted to just quit school after your OWLs- that would be fine, if a dead end job without any hope of promotion was something on your to-do list."

Griffon fixed himself a plate of the food, and poured a drink. "So you better work hard to get good grades on those tests whether you think you need them or not. I'm not sure dad would be pleased to see his daughter throw her life down the drain because she's bored with school."

1.	http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/Trace

"Be glad he never finishes," Griffon told her. "When I first started spending a lot of time with him- I was probably fifth year or so in Hogwarts, started staying summers- it was all I could do to get him to shut up about the old days." Of course, Griffon had been new to the Canterbury estate and the family and had a lot to learn about the wizarding world outside of Hogwarts. Growing up on a farm in Wales with a muggle family was a lot different than growing up with Argyle Canterbury... Which was probably why he managed to come out relatively normal.

He frowned when Liegia mentioned he could always hope for sandblasted. He wasn't sure he'd call Ligeia youthful looking, either. But he didn't want to be mean. He wondered what she would look like as she aged. He might have to try to find some photos of elderly people who were albino. Depending on how things went with his job, and considering his age, he might not ever get to see his little sister get to be that old.

"Better to have too many classes than too few," Griffon told her. "If you don't have the right credits it's hard to find a job you'll enjoy. Even if you don't stick with Mungo's, you'll find the internship useful."

Griffon watched as she cast a spell. "Underage magic outside of Hogwarts will get you into trouble," he told her. "You're not seventeen just yet." But he was distracted from scolding her when she pulled out a fabulous looking spread. The prime rib looked especially delicious. Mmm.

"That looks great." The others in the office would be jealous of such a spread. "You can keep Calaveras," he commented. Griffon never was the sort to go out to places that were even remotely fancy. He preferred the greasy food of the Leaky Cauldron to a five star restaurant. Mostly because he didn't really have the manners to fit in at places like Calaveras or Signature. "Who cooked?" he asked.

"If you knew the kind of trouble that dad liked to stir up, you'd understand why they haven't made him an elder. If he kept himself out of trouble and didn't meddle in everybody else's business it might help." Griffon might have inherited a bit of that trait. He had a habit of sticking his foot where it didn't belong if he felt like things weren't going the way they were supposed to. But as a department head, he was allowed. Mostly.

He frowned when she mentioned how he'd look with gray hair. A hand went to his head, and he hoped that wasn't going to happen soon. Sure, salt and peppered was fine, but going totally gray would be an admission that he was getting too old for the game. "I'll dye it," Griffon told her. "At least some of it. I don't fancy getting to look like our dad when I get old. You can keep the white hair for yourself."

"Mungo's is a good place to intern," he said. "I think you'd be good as a mediwtich of some sort." Though she might be a bit intimidating. Griffon had a feeling she'd never be able to work with children given her looks, but it would be mean to say it. Even so, if Ligeia liked the job that was what mattered most.

Griffon wasn't sure, though, how he'd feel about his little sister coming to work for him in the RCMC. "Only one I think you'd like is the Spirit Division. They keep tabs on the ghosts, keep wrangled to the right places and help find 'em homes and stuff if they're haunting somewhere they don't need to be haunting." That sounded right up her alley. "Other than that it's werewolves, beings, and beasts. I'll tell you now you don't want a part of the being division. Creatures that can actually talk to you aren't any fun to mess with."

"What's in the basket?" Griffon asked, opening it up. He was ready for lunch, and thought it would be easier to dodge any awkward conversation if he had a mouth full of food.

"Let's get one thing straight- and we're going to get it straight now, Amherst. I am your superior. I decide whether you stay here or whether you get fried- so if I were you, I would watch your language and your tone. This is no laughing matter, and I wouldn't drag you into my office and accuse you of something without any proof." Once again, Griffon motioned to the papers.

He watched as she leaned back, and crossed her arms. "It's dated for Friday," he told her. "They executed the animal yesterday. Just because you're ready to go out and have a bit fun is no excuse for you to get lax and to let stuff like this happen!" Griffon still believed that the testimony with Margo's name attached was real- she had very little to convince him otherwise.

"If you say it isn't you, there better be something better you can offer me than word of mouth. Because I highly doubt that half of a committee would sign off on something you said if you didn't say it, and think that they would get away with it. As it stands right now I've got a handful of men who said you met with their committee about the dragon killing those people, and that you said it warranted death."

"So either you said it, you said something that could be easily misconstrued as you saying it, or they're lying. If you said something that got that dragon killed- I'm going to toss you out on your ass and make sure you never come near another magical creature as long as you live."

Dear Sophie,

I'll give you that much. If a wolf complies with Ministry regulations, and works hard to make sure that the public is safe, they do have the right to an education and to jobs. But the second they decide or make poor decisions which leads to the possibility of harming another person, I'd lock them up in one of our holding cells without batting an eye. It's not something to be toyed with. And people who've been werewolves for a long time, or who are new at it- they get careless. It's the facts.

But I don't want our letters to be all about werewolves. Because there's more to both of our lives than just that.

I'm glad to hear your first meeting went well, and definitely keep an eye on that Durmstrang kid. I met a few in my travels and everyone I've met had a mean strike a mile wide. He gives you any trouble you don't handle it yourself- you get one of your professors to take care of it, or one of his. Cause you don't need that kind of trouble when you're so close to graduating.

You may have had your first boyfriend, but that doesn't mean you should have anymore! Everyone gets one mistake, and he was it. You keep your nose clean. Boys aren't worth the trouble they cause at that age. They aren't really worth a damn until they're almost thirty- but I wouldn't try to make you wait that long. But I guess if the kid reminds you of me, he can't be too bad.

Liegia's heart is in the right place, I think. If you knew my dad any better you'd understand. He was sixty-eight when she was born, you know, and that's way too old to be having kids. Never really was a firm father figure (at least not from what I've gathered, I know he wasn't with me). The old man has a whole nest of bats roosting in his belfry, and I'm afraid she'd taken after him a bit too much. But as long as she has friends and stays out of trouble, I'll consider your job well done.

Any idea when your first Hogsmeade weekend is? Let me know and I'll send both of you some extra pocket money. If I have time in my schedule I'd love to catch lunch or something to see how things are going. But I know you'll also be busy with friends and I wouldn't want to embarrass you. Just thought it might be nice!

Love,
Uncle Griffon

Griffon watched as Ligeia's buzzard flew onto one of his trees, curious as to how she managed to get through the ministry at all with that thing following her about. He could never understand why his dad let her have such a creature as a pet- but then again, Griffon didn't understand a damn thing about his father in general. The only thing he understood was that your late sixties was far too old to be having children, and Ligeia was living proof of that. The man was eighty-four with a daughter who hadn't even graduated Hogwarts. Hell, Griffon was old enough to be his sister's father- which was probably how he'd become "Uncle Griffon" to her instead of "brother" or just plain old Griff.

Since he'd come back from Tibet and had been living in the Canterbury home, he'd been trying to get to know both of his sisters better. But with one a strange little albino bird, and the other a model always having her far too good looking firneds over prancing around in all states of undress- well, it hadn't been an easy task. Why the hell couldn't he just have normal siblings like everyone else?

At least his muggle family was relatively normal.

He shut his office door behind her to make sure nothing got out, and peered at the picnic basket that she carried. "Not surprised. Old coot always his nose in something." He loved his dad as much as he could (considering the man hadn't really taken any time to raise him until after he'd started Hogwarts), but his step-father was still the man he thought of as his real dad. Either way, the insult was said more with love than with hate.

It still didn't make Griffon feel any better about having to share an awkward lunch with his sixteen year old sister who called him uncle.

"Guess  he has to enjoy the big cases while he can. Only a matter of time before they realize he's a senile old bat and make him retire. So how're you then?" Griffon asked, settling into his chair.

"You get right down to business, don't you?" Griffon asked. "Whatever happened to pleasantries?" he continued, as he fetched her a cup of coffee- with no sugar- and made a cup for himself. If he remembered correctly, everyone on level two was addicted to the stuff. "Why hello Griffon, how are you? I'm fine, thanks for asking Auror Raynor. Yourself? Oh, you know, the usual, kicking ass and taking names. Sounds splendid!" He placed the cup in front of the head auror, and then went behind his desk, shooing a squirrel from his seat before plopping down. "There, I took care of it for you! You're so considerate to ask how I've been."

Jokes might not the best way to get this meeting off to a good start, but Griffon didn't like having to ask for help and a bit levity- hell, a bit of effort even- from the petite woman across his desk would make all the difference in the world. Leave it to Level Two to purposefully make any type of meeting a pain in his ass.

"But if you'd prefer we skip the small talk and get right down to the root of things, I think I might have stumbled across a situation which warrants a bit of aid from level two. Then again, I'm not law enforcement so I might be jumping the gun a bit here." Griffon sipped his coffee, and leaned forward across his desk.

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you this, but I need this confidential- between me and you- until I decide on the best course of action to take here. And I need to make sure that if I get help from your department you're not going to boot me out of any kind of investigatory work. I might need your help, but Level Four is still my level to run and it's still my job to make sure that I'm in the know for everything that goes on around here. That includes any suspected nefarious activities which may- or may not- be afoot."

Griffon leaned back in his chair again, giving her a level stare. "You promise me that we can work together like adults, and that you'll let me stay in the loop and help as much as I can, then I'll tell you why I dragged you down from your cozy little corner with Radley to sit in my forest."

Dear Sophie,

I'm glad that your meeting with the new headmaster went well. He's a smart man, to try to keep bias out of it. I can't say I agree with his decision- I know Ollie is your friend, and that you love her- but I still think it's too dangerous. But he worked well with my department to come up with a satisfactory compromise on keeping the werewolves at Hogwarts away from the school while they were dangerous, and in our custody to make sure they don't hurt anybody else. He seems like a smart man who knows how to keep himself out of trouble.

I was glad that you asked me to come see you off. I was surprised how Ruby was, but she's your sister and she loves you. And you know how I feel about the situation with your dad. I don't care if he's on tour- his kids should always come first. He could have made time to see you off if he had wanted to. But your mum always told me I wasn't allowed to say things like that to you, so I don't want to start doing it all the time now. But if you need me, I'm here for you- because that's what she would have wanted, and what I want for you.

Nice and gentlemanly? You're too young to worry about romance, Sophie. Don't let his American accent and nice manners fool you. All boys your age are dogs and they only want one thing. I was sixteen and seventeen once. It might have been a long time ago but I remember what I was concerned with. You just focus on classes and SAWS and leave the boys to the other girls. You're not allowed to have a boyfriend. I said so. I'll scare him into dumping you if you do get one. You have to at least be graduated before you even entertain the idea of having a serious boyfriend, okay? Promise me?

If you want, I can talk to your headmaster, too, about me coming to speak. I'm not sure what you want me to do- but you give me the details, and I'll take care of it. Your friends might not like everything I have to say, though. I know you're trying to do something good, but you also know that our opinions on werewolves differ quite a bit. But I do promise I won't insult your friends (if I can help it).

Keep an eye on my sister for me. She's too much like my dad. Keep her out of trouble if you can at all. And be nice to her. She's weird. She needs friends.

Love,
Uncle Griffon

Alert was not a word that Griffon would use to describe Margo at the moment. He frowned at her greeting, and motioned to one of the chairs. "Sit down and shut the door!" he barked, going back to his seat behind the desk. Normally he would offer Margo some of his finer scotch or whiskey. He liked the woman. She was nice, attractive, and didn't mind his occasional flirting. She was a good employee for the most part. But had Griffon known she was capable of... this... he wouldn't have been quite so nice to her since coming back to the Ministry.

He waited on her to shut the door and sit down before he slid the file across the desk. "Would you like to tell me, Amherst, why you thought that an innocent dragon needed beheading?" he asked. "I don't know how much you know about dragons, but given your occupation I'd been led to believe it was a lot. I've been living with yetis for more than ten years and even I know a load of shite when I see it- and what you said here," he said, tapping the parchment with his finger, "that's shite."

"You want to tell me in what universe a pregnant dragon is a threat when she's trying to protect herself?" Griffon asked, voice still much louder than it needed to be in a confined space. People outside of the office could probably hear his disgruntled words clear as day. "Dragons aren't common enough to go about lopping off their heads left and right! Sure, she killed some people- but they probably deserved it! Disturbing a pregnant dragon is asking for your head to be ripped right off! Medical attention needed or not. You want to tell me in what way you'd think otherwise?"

He paused then- the silence hanging over the two of them like the calm before a storm. Griffon didn't get this angry very often. His face was red and he was puffed up like a rooster ready to fight. He wasn't going to let Amherst off easy on this one- and if her answer wasn't satisfactory, he'd put her out on her ass. Griffon wasn't above firing someone who would be so careless and indifferent to the life of such a majestic creature. It went against everything the entire department stood for.

After finding the file on Monday about the executed dragon, Griffon had pulled all of the recent files from the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. He felt like an idiot for not noticing- but with them all laid out in front of him, the numbers didn't lie. In the last few months the number of executions had more than doubled. And most of those executions were questionable at best, and downright wrong at the worst. How he had missed it, Griffon wasn't sure, but he definitely needed to start paying closer attention to paperwork that came through...

Then again, many of the ones files he hadn't even signed off on, which made him wonder how they had found their way into his filing cabinets to begin with. Something fishy was going on, and it didn't sit right with him.

Griffon had wanted to handle this himself, he was in charge and he could do it- but facts were facts, laws were being broken and if he went into this like a rampaging bull, nothing was going to be accomplished or fixed. Whoever was behind whatever was going on would get smarter and lay low, and his concerns would never be addressed or resolved.

... Which meant that Griffon Manley had to ask for help. Not only did he have to ask for help, but he was going to have to ask for help from Level Two. The RCMC and the DMLE had never really gotten along. Their paths crossed quite often, and both seemed to think they had total jurisdiction. In this matter, Griffon would most definitely stay involved and not let Level Two take over. This was something that mattered to him. Innocent creatures were being harmed, and it was his job to see to it that didn't happen and that it stopped. He just didn't know how. Or if there was really anything he could do about it.

Griffon had sent a note up to Tamis Raynor- head of the aurors- to ask her to drop by his office. He would like to see her insight on the matter, and see what steps she thought he should take next. Tamis was probably better at handling this gingerly- doing things gingerly was not Griffon's usual mode of operation.

He'd left his door open so that he could swoop her inside and close it quickly- hopefully without the entirety of Level Four seeing her come around. He didn't want to answer too many questions too soon. Jumping the gun would be bad, after all.

When he saw the petite woman arrive, he quickly stepped outside, offering her an uncharacteristically bright smile and ushered her into his office. "Good afternoon, Auror Raynor!" he greeted- far too jovially considering their usual interactions. "So glad you could find time to come by. Please, sit down! Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea, water? Something stronger?"