14 October 2009
11:15 am

Persepolis stood behind her large desk quietly.  Outside her office fluttered memos, fingers were typing rapidly in the pool, and footsteps and voices hurried by.  She was trying for a moment of peace.  She tried to take these moments as often as she could.  Thirty seconds.  Two minutes.  Three.  Whatever moments she could grab.  Her face was blank.  Serene.  Her gaze falling to a no-where place a few meters ahead of her.

Last week, she'd sent off an official memo to Tamis Raynor.  It was marked from the Minister of Magic's office, and signed with her signature.  She hadn't composed it herself.  An assistant had taken notes when she described what she needed, prepared the memo and presented it to her to sign.  Then she'd taken it away, and enchanted it to be delivered to Chief of the Auror Corps Tamis Raynor in her office.  It details that they would have a meeting at 11:17 on the 14th of October with regards to an ceremonial formality, unspecified.

The decision she had made had been complicated.  It straddled political, personal, magical, and societal considerations.  It had a gravity.  It had an import.  And it was calculated. 

In her moment of serenity, now at 11:16, Persepolis smiled.  She'd considered the move for some time now, and she was now sure it was the right choice.

But only if Raynor would agree to it.

The hustle and bustle outside of the Minister of Magic’s ornate door was commendable, but Tamis Raynor remained the sole outlier amongst the punctuated fervor of zipping memos, clacking typewriters, and marching feet.

The immensely petite woman leaning unmoving against the wall adjacent to the threshold could have easily been forgotten amidst the commotion. If the rich crimson of her uniform had not been quite so vivid. Or, even when feigning complete and lounging ease, her posture had not been so formally rigid, as if lacking in comprehension the meaning of ‘relax’. For a witch whose presence should have been insignificant, the hustle and bustle seemed as determined not to impose upon her as much as she was not imposing on it, creating a small – but notable – bubble of inactivity. This suited the Auror just fine.

With one booted foot pressed against the wall for stability, Raynor’s grey eyes were locked on the pocket watch she held in hand, diligently noting the path of the second hand while determinedly not actually physically following its motion.

Eleven sixteen and three seconds… four… five… six.   

Her face, very typically, betrayed little. As it had all week when she had been attending to various case files and warrants, ‘not’ being bothered by the presence of the very official memo un-creased neatly in a tiny, spare section of her very overwhelmed desk. A memo that summoned her here in concise form to the Minister’s office in…

…seventeen seconds… eighteen… nineteen…

Raynor’s interaction with the new Minister had been minuscule thus far. No more than required. She knew as much as the average Ministry employee about the woman. Traditionalist. Well spoken. A bit too well spoken. Political enough to spark an annoyed pang in the head of any normal militaristic auror. The Head Auror was far from normal but ‘ceremonial formality’, unspecified, could tighten even her jaw in anxiety.

.. Fifty seconds… fifty one seconds…

It seemed she was about to find out. Snapping the pocket watch closed in a motion that suddenly matched the energy of the room, Raynor extracted herself from the wall and stood obediently on the opposite side of Minister Zephyr’s desk, hands casually clasped behind her desk and one eyebrow inquisitively raised  just as the clock struck eleven hours and seventeen minutes.

"Tamis Raynor..."

Minister of Magic Persepolis Zephyr opened her arms wide at the entrance of the summoned Head Auror, her voluminous robes like billowing wings.  She smiled a glowing smile, not showing her teeth.  Her most open and comforting facial expression.  It was calm and controlled, but friendly and welcoming.  Exactly the tone she wished to set with Tamis Raynor.

She came around from behind her desk, and clasped Raynor's right hand in both of hers.  She didn't shake it - just held it there where others might have shaken it. 

"Thank you for coming.  You're a busy witch I know, but I absolutely couldn't remain lax in meeting with you properly."

She released her and swept away behind her desk.  "You're an institution around here, Tamis!  And I know that up until now we've only met each other in passing, but you've made a distinct impression.  Please sit.  Tell me - how has this transition gone for you and your fine Aurors?  I trust it hasn't been too jarring?  Mr Annwyl was a fine man."

All through her run to Minister, Persepolis had taken great care not to besmirch the legacy of War Hero Marcus Annwyl.  But instead, attack from the high road and very subtly disassemble the values he stood for. 

She smiled. 

She did not smile back.

Tamis Raynor was notoriously not a people person. Years of failed attempting to whittle away at her humanity in an effort for emotional self-preservation had only made her personally inadequate at self-expression. Raynor did not know how to connect to people. But that did not mean she did not understand them. And in that brief seconds of finally coming face-to-face with the new Minister of Magic on a one-on-one basis, the Head Auror had made the split-second analysis of the woman's character that often saved her life and the field. Except, she was not sure how she felt about it yet. 

Gleaming white teeth. Yards of shimmering purple fabric. And the way the taller woman practically floated across the room all screamed one thing; Politician. With Annwyl, Raynor had been politely formal. But he had carried the direct no-nonsense air an upbringing in the Corps had given him. She could be frank with him, if necessary. Never suspect ulterior motives. These qualities, she knew, had ultimately led to his downfall as head of their government. Immediately she could tell Madam Zephyr was not going to repeat his mistake. This was a woman who had fought her way to the singularly most powerful position in their society. During increasingly difficult times. A good part of Tamis Raynor admired and respected the woman for it. But it also meant she could not trust her.

Grey eyes glanced down at the hands clasping her own, Auror mask (as of it) still in place.  Not many would have greeted Tamis so informally. Raynor knew it was not an accident. The Minister's skin appeared even darker against the Auror's fair complexion, compliments of her mother's Scottish roots. The petite woman found some humor in the symbolic irony of just how different these two witches were from each other. It left her contemplating where their similarities might lie.

They both knew Raynor would have been a fool to ignore a direct summons by the Minister of Magic. Yet, she managed a polite pull-back of one side of her mouth and an amiable, "of course."

Institution? Distinct impression? Not for the first time, she wondered what this was all about.

"The Aurors are fairing," she allowed, hesitantly moving toward the seat. Like most types on Level Two, she preferred to stand in uncertain situations. A small, but notable, reminder that Persepolis did not come from a Law Enforcement background. "There has been a lot of change recently. But they are adaptable."

A pause and pointed no comment on the nature of Marcus Annwyl's character.

Then, "I assure you my written analysis of the state of my Office was very accurate."

It was a natural assumption that the 'ceremonial formality' in question was an official reporting to the changing of the guard as it were. Raynor could play the subtle game of polite fishing as well.

"You are and Auror, aren't you.  Through and through," Zephyr mused without judgement.  Raynor's pert responses and references to procedure and apparent disinterest in niceties - it was the hallmark of their esteemed security force.  The Ministry of Magic's elite Dark Wizard Catchers.  They had to be a particular breed.  Even their administrator Cameron Rosier shared their straight-forward way of relating to beaurocracy.  Perhaps that was the source of the tension around Level Two.

Or perhaps that was just how they liked it.

The mentioned State of Office report from Raynor's desk had been clearly presented and all had seemed to be in order.

"But you do know that I wasn't asking after your official reports.  I've read them.  I want to know about you.  Your personal opinion.  Get a read of things from your perspective.  Perhaps I'm asking for a niffler to fly?" 

There was no need to get on Tamis Raynor's bad side, though, no need to press the differences in the way they did things.  Zephyr would have preferred a warmer alliance though. 

"So let me get to the point.  Your performance as an Auror has been, and I say this without exaggeration, highly commendable.  Brave.  Illustrious.  Exceptional in every way.  And with the trials you've had to face in leadership posts both earned and thrusted upon you by necessity?  Even from the outside, your accomplishments are plain too see."

Raynor, Zephyr knew, would not care about such praise.  She might even resent it.

"I suspect that you don't care about all that.  I don't say it to flatter you.  I don't dare.  Rather,  I say it to inform.   You should be aware of the singular impact you have made in this last decade.  There are few Aurors as decorated as you, as resilient.  You should know that the people of this Wizarding World respect you highly.  They know your name.  They know what you've done.  I believe you should do well to know this."

An Auror, through and through. She gave no physical response. Though, Raynor was not sure how true that statement was. She knew the role. And when to play it. And she was very, very good at it.

There was an advantage to being expected to be a dutiful, hardened soldier -- and little more -- when presented with uncertain circumstances.

Yet, she knew Zephyr would pick up on that as easily as Raynor was the other woman's carefully laid facade. They did both share the same house alma mater. And Zephyr did not disappoint.

A small, but genuine, smirk broke the younger woman's composure at the small quip. "More," she picked her words calmly, "expecting a Niffler to return with gold when all she can find is brass. A smart one judges the nature of the hand before returning to it."

And there had been enough hands already. Tamis Raynor's term at the Ministry had survived many overturns in leadership. An alarming number of them in the past year alone. Belisario a-wal. Robards murdered. Annwyl effectively overthrown. How long she was expecting that hand to last factored into the equation. As long as she could effectively continue to do her job, maintain order to the Wizarding World and relative peace, she was complicit.

She appreciated the cutting to the case. But not precisely the words they brought. Accomplishments. Bravery. Commendably. That was not promising vocabulary.

"Just doing my job," she replied and abruptly paused -- not entirely brought on by Zephyr pushing through her protest before she could properly form it. She did not    expect the Minister to appreciate the somber irony in her echoing of a phrase spoken to her many years ago[1].

Inform. It was that singular emphasis that earned Persepolis a fraction more of her respect. She knew how to handle Tamis Raynor better than she thought. Give the woman options and she would take the alternative out of subconscious spite. As she had to Marcus Annwyl the first time he tried to promote her. Jason MacDonnell had informed her she was becoming Head of the Auror Office half a decade ago[2].

It also meant that whatever Zephyr wanted -- and while it was unsettling flattering to consider that the new face of the Ministry had called her up here out of the pure kindness of her heart to give her a pat on the back and a "good work" -- it was becoming painstakingly obvious that Zephyr wanted something.

And it was not a request.

While the Auror had not physically changed, the air about her came to attention. Intentionally or unintentionally, Persepolis Zephyr had just given away a critical detail of her opinion about Tamis Raynor; she saw the Auror as someone able to influence the Opinion of the Wizarding World. What the elder woman had yet to reveal was if that meant Raynor was an ace to be recruited or a threat to be eliminated.

She had an unsettling feeling that the Minister had not finished deciding yet. Grey eyes measured the newest political figure-head, still determinedly calm but with a noted awareness. Zephyr was a clever and dangerous woman, indeed. The Head Auror did not fear her, but she realized her next response would determine how difficult her continued tenure at the Ministry became.

 "And there is a way I could be better utilizing this knowledge," she replied, equal parts question and statement.

1.	Into that Good Night -- The Death of Tait Aldridge revealed.
2.	[June 2004] Changing of the Guard

Persepolis's face lit into a sudden smile that wrinkled her eyes and showed her teeth.

"There is!" she cooed and moved out.  It absolutely delighted Persepolis that despite neither of them speaking of what they were actually talking about, despite neither of them giving away the unspoken, they seemed to have wands cut from the same bough.  They were in sync.  And Persepolis Zephyr hadn't counted on that, not at all. 

Now, it didn't mean everything was in the clear, it didn't mean that Raynor would agree, or that this would go as she hoped it would.  It did mean, however, that they understood one another.

She rose from her seat and moved towards a side table that was filled with rows and rows of drawers.  She opened one, then another as she spoke.

"You have been nominated for an Order of Merlin, Auror Raynor.  For your part in clearing up the Azkaban Prison Break of 2004, among other things.  You were the one they called upon when Robards was killed... Here it is."

Out of a long thin drawer, Zephyr pulled out a long thin scroll with gold caps on the ends.  She unrolled it and laid it on the desk. The paper was so rich that it almost fell like a thick, starched fabric.  It was embossed in silver and gold and written in a beautiful flowing hand.  And it was only the nomination. 

The biggest opposition to Zephyr's rise to Minsiter of Magic was from those who doubted her ability to protect Wizarding Britain.  Because unlike the wizard she was replacing (and the wizard before him), Zephyr was not a warrior.  Her choosing Rosier was none to popular either - an administrator to run Level Two.  She knew that she'd have to make nice with that crowd if she was going to be effective.  She had a few ideas up her sleeve, and this was the first.

Award a popular law enforcement figure with one of the highest honors in her power. 

"It would mean a great deal to me - to all of us - if you would accept."

She tilted her head softly and smiled at the diminutive warrior witch.  The award could be bestowed on Raynor whether she wanted it or not, but that would serve no purpose.  Zephyr needed Raynor to act the part.  The gracious recipient.  To stand beside her in front of the cameras, for their names to appear together in the Prophet. 

Politicians were as slippery as Lethifolds and could be as stealthily dangerous. The main difference between the two creatures was the Patronus charm worked on one and not the other. Not that Tamis Raynor was not notorious for subtly manipulating others in her personal game of chess. It had just been a long time since she had been placed on the board as a pawn rather than the queen.

 When the Minister rose to her feet, the Head Auror followed suit a trace too eagerly, keen to take the opportunity to face whatever she was presented with on her feet. The tension had not dissipated from the room. It was as if the room was holding its breath.

It was not what she would have predicted.

Not even close.

The document glistened. Raynor had never seen one before – there were few who had. But she knew immediately what it was. As anyone else would.

Surprise finally registered on her face, eyes jerking back up to the Minister. Disconcertedly, the rest of her stature remained still; years of training and practical application of not letting her body language betray her.  Zephyr managed to a rare thing – she caught Tamis Raynor unawares.

She recovered quickly but not quick enough, schooling her expression back and approaching the ornate desk with measured steps, listening with discontent in the pit of her stomach. Peresepolis Zephyr was, indeed, not a witch she would be taking lightly.

Raynor held no delusion about what this was.

Those who were honored in any way often said that, when it was happening to you, it felt lackluster. Anticlimiatic. It was others that glorified the award, not the recipient themselves. In reality everything was a façade; a show of appearances with darker truths lurking where most did not bother looking. The heroes of old had been right. 

None of what Zephyr said was dishonest. But the Head Auror did not feel worthy of what was being offered – the most distinguished honor of their society.  She had simply survived the Azkaban Uprising. Many of her colleagues had not shared her luck. And she bore the scars still – there was a reason the right-handed witch dueled with her left. Assuming charge of the Department had been a necessity. Letting Level Two dissolve into chaos would have been giving Tawse what he wanted. She had aided refugees during You-Know-Who’s administration of the Ministry. But that had been an obligation. Her heritage had saved her where, again, not as many had been lucky.

Raynor did not verbalize these thoughts, she simply tilted her chin, one hand reaching slowly as if to experimentally touch the document but just as thoughtfully curling her fingers back at the last moment.

It was not Tamis Raynor’s image the Minister was looking to enhance.

When her grey eyes met the elder woman’s again, it was with the quiet confidence of before. They had been having quite the silent conversation in the subtext of this exchange. No reason not to end it that way.

“I am a servant of the Wizarding People. If  that is their wish, it is not my right to refuse,” She said finally. Words pointy chosen. Her gaze never once wavering from the other woman’s.

At the heart of it, Raynor approved. The woman was arrogant enough to believe the influence of her reputation – she had worked hard to develop it and used it when necessary. If Zephyr believed this could improve the image of the Ministry and give it more unity in the eyes of the public, Raynor would dance the dance. But not for Zephyr. Not because she was asking. Or that it might secure her in her elected position.

Currently, Raynor believed the Minister did have the wants and needs of the Wizarding Community driving her agenda. And the woman was enough of slippery lethifold to perhaps survive doing so.

But the Auror’s opinion could change. 

Persepolis watched with great anticipation and hesitation as Tamis Raynor visibly took in what was happening.  She was not expecting to see surprise on her usually very controlled facade.  Well, she could chalk that one up as a victory - actually having taken the stalwart figure by surprise.  By their meeting, Persepolis had thought she might have suspected...  But then, perhaps no one would be prepared for an honor such as an Order of Merlin - so few ever received them.

Nervous, the Minister could only wait in those silent moments to see if what she'd planned for would work.  It wasn't enough that Raynor complied; would she catch on to the why? Would she understand? And would she go along?  She kneaded her hands nervously.

Raynor looked up and Zephyr gazed back, trying to keep her face warm, neutral, still beaming with optimism, but some of that had faltered and chillied her smile. 

Then she spoke.

And Zephyr's anxiety could not yet leave her.  The answer was perfectly clear on the surface, but everything about it was another question.  A servant she was, yes, but a willing one? Or did she intend to take the great gift and use it for her own endeavors?  Or what...?

But the truth was this: they'd come too far to turn back now.  Whatever lurked in Raynor's mind, Zephyr would have to deal with it as it came because this was happening.  Like Lumos, Zephyr lit up her face in a giant smile and swept her arms open wide, immediately cooing and embracing the small woman briefly.

"My dear Tamis, this is wonderful!  Humble as ever! That's why we adore you."

She let her go and swept the scroll away, eagerly bubbling forward.

"The process of confirming the nomination could take some time.  You may be called for an interview before a committee, there will be some research done, but with my support, you'll be a shoo-in.  It's as good as done."

From behind her desk, Zephyr folded her hands in front of her and beamed. 

The wheels were turning in the Minister’s mind. Raynor could see it. The brief, sharp calculation that weighed in the other woman’s dark eyes.  She watched the transformation as Zephyr retreated back behind her own façade. That patronizing cheer slowly lighting from the depth until it ended in a beaming superficial smile.

At least, that is where Tamis Raynor would have willed it to end, if she had a time turner.

Much to her misfortune, most of those were destroyed in the Second War.

The Auror cringed, her shoulders drawing up around her neck rigid and tight as voluminous yards of fabric engulfed her. Trying to escape the embrace without actually pulling away from it. When the Ministry Official pulled away, Raynor gave her a brief, sharp look in distinct likeness to a disgruntled bird. If she had feathers they would have ruffled.  Instead, she silently smoothed her Auror Reds back into pristine form.

Perespolis Zephyr won that round.

Raynor pinned the Minister with one careful eye as if expecting the other witch to leap across the fancy desk and try to hug her again.

Research. The Head Auror hesitated at that. There were aspects of her history she would prefer not to be dug up. But she likewise refused to back out now. Instead, she inclined her head once in silent acknowledgement of all the terms.

“Are there any other ambiguous formalities we need to attend to?” She questioned, prying for dismissal.

Zephyr was grinning quite genuinely now, again having not calculated Raynor's exact reaction.  Her simple, sisterly hug had been apparently an affront Raynor rarely suffered - she'd have to stow away that knowledge for a later date, although such an opportunity couldn't be abused if it was to ever be as potently effective as an unnerving gesture. 

She twiddled her fingers in their hair by her ear as if to dismiss all that had just happened, a sign of clearing the air of thoughts, of moving onto the next challenge for the day.

Smiling at Raynor, the Minister of Magic shook her head.  "No, Auror Raynor, you are quite free to get on your duties."

She inclined her head.  "I thank you for entertaining my bureaucratic frivolities."

An understatement that almost mocked the sentiment.  The doors to the office opened on their own, and her clerk swept in with what came next for the Minister.  He had memos for her, and explanations and briefings and reminders as to who she was meeting with next, and why, and where.