Brinley Abbott's appearance on Level Two was always greeted politely but with some curiosity. He had been a hitwizard in his day. He had old friends here. Though they were reaching retirement. Law Enforcement was hard on a wix. Hitwix rarely had long careers. But Brinley had allies here. Old confidantes. He made an effort to perform small talk in the hallway. Asked after grown-up children, wives and husbands. Maintain an image of routine. Pleasantries and remarks on the weather until he stepped inside the office of Solomon Carstairs.

"Forgive the early call Sol." Brinley apologized. The Department Head was shedding his cloak from the morning commute. "On the Minister's business." Since the Halloween Futurist attacks Solomon Carstairs had hard proof that Brinley Abbott was the real man in charge of the Ministry's might. Not the Minister of the day. Both Abbott and Carstairs had served under Ministers of different values and beliefs. The job still got done. The hard decisions still were made. They were the men who formed the memory of the Ministry. Not to say Glass had not been one for decades too. But now he had crossed the line into pure politics. He was a wizard who had to schedule a regular conversation with his own recently painted portrait into the week.

"Delicate business." Brinley continued. Wand tapping elegantly on Sol's door. Wards. "He wants the search of one of yours." Brinley rubbed his freshly shaved chin between thumb and forefinger. "Harper Graves."

He was looking over the weekend reports when Brinley Abbott appeared at the threshold on Minister's business.

Solomon put down his work, a mild expression behind his glasses, and conjured another tea cup as Abbott set up wards. A part of him expected this. Glass was not a stupid man. They'd been trying their best to remain discreet but there was always something, wasn't there? Even if that something was simply a former Obliviator's instinct.

"What's turned him on to Graves?" he asked, gesturing for the other wizard to sit. "Mind you, he'll be hard pressed to find anything substantial on her."

When Eva and Harper[1] came to him, Solomon had promised to find a better place to hide Musgrave's memories. And he had.

This search could still prove dangerous. Graves was likely doing her own legal research on Glass - trying a Minister of Magic was not something you managed on impulse. Nothing incriminating but enough to put her and their intent at risk.

Curious, though, that Abbott came to him with warning.

1.	29th August - A Secret Spoken Finds Wings

"Does Graves have some memories?" Asked Brinley. Direct. "Specifically some memories belonging to Musgrave?"

He studied Solomon Carstairs. "It is no secret amongst us that Glass had him obliviated." He tilted his head ever so slightly. "And that you are keeping tabs on him." He let that sit a beat. "I have not said a word to him."

He didn't react right away - Solomon was good at that - but poured tea for Brinley, letting those words settle in a brief silence between them. As long as Edwin didn't yet know, he could afford to remain calm in this moment.

"It's quite the leap of logic," he spoke at least, leaning back in his seat. "From Obliviation to Harper Graves getting hold of clandestine memories. But I'm guessing you didn't deduce that."

If he did, Abbott needed to quit his post on one and join the auror's office. "Who told you about the memories?" Sol continued, studying the other man. "If Graves had them, she doesn't anymore."

"The Minister himself." There was no point sugaring the pill. This was not a game. Brinley was not a politician. He was the one that made sure the day to day got done. That the politician the population chose as Minister did not ruin the nation. He accepted the tea but recounted his encounter with Edwin Glass. The lack of source. But the detail of how Glass was spooked.

"He was calmer when we found out his office had a temporal tamper." The Minister's office had been bugged. Everything had to be removed and replaced. Not an easy thing to do.

"He is not the first Minister to have tabs kept on him outside of our team." Explained Brinley. "But I am normally appraised out of politeness if there is a threat." He sipped.

He removed his glasses, tea forgotten, and pressed the heel of his palm against one eye as if to force off a headache. Which wasn't far off from the reality. Because now he knew that Edwin Glass was aware - more than aware but likely to take active steps to protecting himself.

"Politeness," Sol repeated and lowered his hand to shoot Brinley a dry smile. "Forgive me but I didn't know what side you were playing for. Glass effectively pulled the wool over my eyes before Graves and Kuester approached, so I have had to play my cards close to the chest."

Clearly there was more to the Senior Undersecretary than met the eye. He explained, briefly, that the memories Graves brought to him incriminated Edwin in various criminal activities: not least of them the explosions at the Leaky Cauldron.

"If he knows about those memories," continued Solomon as he checked the time. "Then we must be on alert. He will try to move on Graves first."

He touched his badge to summon Pratt. "There's more evidence, of course. We have been busy..." Sol added and then, after a pause, cleared his throat awkwardly. "Thank you, Abbott. For coming to me. I underestimated you, and I'm not too proud to say it."

"As Undersecretary I have see Ministers make all kinds of tough decisions. Wrong ones too." Explained Brinley. He took it graciously. Carstairs did right. "I am to know where lines are drawn. Where they can be bent and that obliviation has never sat right with me." He sipped his tea. Remembering how prickly Kuester was over it all. But Musgrave had dragged her to Azkaban back in the day.

"I just could not put my finger on exactly what it was." Glass would share just enough. Have an excuse for anything he might have picked up on. "And then he had me go see Morwenna Hopwood. Now our conversation makes sense." He shook his head. Jigsaw puzzle pieces were falling into place. It will come out in the wash. The water was flowing.

"I bet there's a hundred pages detail of how Musgrave worked the dementors in the interviews. Obliviating him is closing the barn door after the horse." Brinley shook his head. Everything was painted from a new angle. Professional hazard as an Undersecretary. To serve a corrupt Minister.

"I need to go back to him with something. Warrant. Reassurance."

Listening to Abbott, he felt a keen sense of regret for not involving the Undersecretary any sooner. The dots would have connected with greater ease and it might have spared Pratt some difficulty in collecting the evidence they required to put Edwin Glass away. Solomon would not make that mistake again.

Men like Brinley weren't to be wasted. He'd helped rally the troops for the breach at Halloween, come to think of it, which should have warmed Sol to him.

"It's nice to see the big picture," he agreed grimly. "Even if it is a dark picture."

Solomon procured a form from one of his drawers, and inked a quill. "You'll have your warrant, make up something about Graves bringing in a wand to Musgrave."

"Not one I would hang on my wall." Agreed Brinley. He looked up to double check for artwork in Solomon's office. Did not want to insult his taste if it was actually his thing.

Solomon began to write. Brinley finished his cup of tea. Even if it was hotter than comfortable. He had to make some movements to look authentic before he reported back to Glass. He checked his pocket watch. Glass would have appointments soon enough. Young Pickler would make sure that he got there. However twitchy their boss was that morning.

"I thought we were at least a couple of years before someone else would need to hold water." He put his empty teacup down. "Waters of acclamation boil and bubble."

END