After several security checkpoints Ligeia finally made it to Level Four from the visitor's entrance. Her shiny 'Visiting Family' visitor's badge was a ticket that paid for wand registration, thorough analysis of the contents of her picnic basket, Buzzard[1] being nearly being de-plumed and a probity probe that would have gone up the hem of her dress until Ligeia told off the guard for being coy, at which point he backed off muttering something about wife and kids and legal ages. Too bad her family that worked here had security clearance and didn't partake of this means of entry. The processing had been very exciting!

Gliding purposefully towards the end of the RCMC wing, Ligeia whisked by the secretary with "Meeting Griffon Manley, I have an appointment, and yes watch that nothing gets out." She entered the office turned forrest with Griffon's desk in the middle of it. Buzzard flew off to one of the trees that disguised office furniture.

"Dear Uncle Griffon! I've just been up from the courtrooms and Papa won't be able to join us for lunch. That big case about that man who robbed a shop and the DoM got him was scheduled today.[2] So it'll just be us and there's plenty to eat!"

It had been long ago the last time Ligeia had visited the Ministry in regards to Uncle Griffon's department. For many years he had been on the Yeti watch in Tibet.

1.	link
2.	Lone Wizard Charged In Burglary, one day previous to newspaper publication

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.

"I'm surprised they never made him an Elder on the Wizengamot, he's been at it for so long. Still on a cadre that oversees preliminary hearings like this one." Growing up doing most of Papa Argyle's 'senile' years, this was baseline normal behavior from him for Ligeia.

"Oh I've been marvelous." Ligeia set the basket on the desk. "At the end of June we went to Romania to see Shackles. You remember Papa adopting that mistreated Ukrainian Ironbelly for me when I was six? Although he's not as fine of a pet as Buzzard, being sponsored instead of a Griffon Vulture. That always makes me think of you and how you'll look with grey hair." Said vulture in question was busy eyeing the forest for squirrels and other rodents.

"I've started interning at St. Mungo's for the rest of the summer." She made a mental note to go shopping for potion ingredients so she could get familiar with a few brews. "Though I'm still keeping my options open. Professor Cosmos at school thinks I could do something with creatures, too. Maybe not Yetis like you did all those years, though I must say I would have the camouflage for the job." She laughed.

"What sorts of work are under your department?"

"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.

"It's funny, there are the times Papa reminisces about the old days and then never finishes the stories. Although as kids that was mostly because Dot would give him a look. Or Hannah, I think Dot inherited Hannah's look." Hannah being Argyle's last wife and mother of Polka Dot and Polly Esther Ligeia.

"As Buzzard ages his feathers might get sandier. You can always hope for sandblasted." She preened her white hair. "Though I can make it look youthful. So I won't be suffering from the effects of aging." Sad, in a way. Although maybe she would pick up a  jolly case of arthritis and have joints that crackle at the slightest shift of movement.

"It's an adjustment, being at St. Mungo's. But I have more classes I would ever need for the job. Just as well to be prepared. But lunch!" Ligeia stood before the open basket and performed a spell so tablecloth, place settings, and candles set on the open side of the desk, joined by a prime rib and shrimp dinner with all the side dishes.

"Was going to save this for dinner but mother snagged reservations at Calaveras."

"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.

"Maybe someday Papa will get around to finishing his memoirs," Ligeia said. "And maybe someday I'll have some of my own, but I'll need the work first."

Ligeia's laugh was nearly a cackle. "Uncle Griffon, would you report me? I've only used it once or twice at home this summer, little domestic things to help out Stumps. He tries so hard but I don't want to leave too much for him." If you were a one eyed one armed one legged house elf, it would take you a while to dust as well. "Besides, he cooked this, and it wouldn't do to make his work for not."

"But isn't that strange? While the best jobs require NEWTs, not every career does so once you pass OWL you're considered a witch or wizard, academically. It's a wonder that stipulation is still there." With everything laid out, she tucked her wand away to eat normally.

"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

"Smart about it, yes, but many in my generation and younger recognize how shoddy the Trace can be, fooled in magical hotspots like a wizards home or here in the most magical area of London. It would be much worse if I had been performing magic in front of muggles. It's like Papa says, of all the Trace related cases he's overviewed most that come to the attention of the Wizengamot are of under aged muggle raised witches and wizards." No doubts there were wizard born students that bent the parameters of the Trace far worse than her. "But I promise you, Uncle Griffon, no more magic until school, cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye." And for how Ligeia said those words you knew that she meant all of it!

Cutting into her prime rib, she continued talking. "Stumps is only insulted when we give him more than an afternoon off. But he's so focused on one task at a time, you can rinse the breakfast dishes when he's out cutting the lawn and he'll never know."

Griffon's words were met with unabashed mirth from his younger half sister. "Uncle Griffon, you are such a jokester," she laughed, taking all of his zest for humor. "Whoever said anything about me being bored with school? I do have those grades to earn to go into healing. Or any of the jobs in your department, if you haven't been mauled by a manticore by then." She reflected his suggestion. "I do like talking to Myrtle and the other castle ghosts. But what would the Spirit Division be looking for? It isn't as obvious as the potions, herbs, and creatures rounded out with spells that St. Mungo's looks for."

"Though Papa is spotty on his thoughts of me, sometimes. I could be a big game hunter in Africa and he would still be proud. I can't see myself getting the nessesary tan for such a venture."

"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?"

"Well enough that you should have no fears about it. I had Outstanding on History of Magic, Potions, Charms, Defense and Creatures. You've been an excellent resource on that last one when you answered my questions." Usually on policy but Griffon had first hand experience with several kinds of creatures. "Exceeds Expectations with Astronomy, Divination, Herbology and Transfiguration."

Buzzard was rather screechy up on his perch. "Oh, tidbits." Ligeia uncovered a dish that had the unused parts of the butcher cut. She set that aside where Buzzard came down to hook the meats with his beak.

"I'm continuing to NEWT on the Exceeds courses; continuing all of them actually except History." She felt she had her key classes towards Healing, with a few she found fun.

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!"

"Don't forget to save me those bones," Ligeia said of Griffon's meatless ribs. Ligeia usually collected the bones after meals, sometimes to use in divining and sometimes for crafts. She had a chandelier in her room she had made from four chickens and three-fourths of a pig worth of poultry and pork chop dinners.

"You've done very well for yourself, Uncle Griffon," Ligeia smiled. "Though between you and Papa I'm not sure on bureaucracy. I would like to, well..." The briefest of silences. "I want to make sure I find something worthwhile. Helpful."

It was why Ligeia hoped healing would be the path for her, that people would appreciate her for her interests. Truthfully, for knowing a staggering amount about the most horrible poisons, diseases, deaths and beasts that roamed the earth that could be applied in reverse to help someone live. Summers where usually the season for any of her melancholies. All bright sunshine and heat, rarely seeing anybody from school, perhaps too much solitude with her thoughts. She began to skim the office floor that matched the forest floor, looking for any unusual rocks that might be her personal pogrebin. That rock headed gnome like creature that spread misery.

"Of course Papa was a fine judge on the Wizengamot for the longest time. He must have helped some people. But I'm not too sure anymore how much the rulings he has been involved with have been helping."