9:15 am
23 September 2009
The Office of Junior Wizengamot Elder Knox T. Greyfriar
Wizengamot Administrative Offices, Level Two

Knox Greyfriar's very small office here at the Ministry contained as much clutter as did his small home in Tilberthwaite, and his old office high in the Headmaster's Tower at Hogwarts.  It was just crammed in more tightly.  It had been a year now since he'd settled into his new post and for the most part, he had a knack now for the internal runnings of things.   

He was in his big chair behind his desk now, referencing back and forth between a large old scroll and a tightly written report.  This was how his time was mostly spent as a Wizengamot Elder - consulting references on Wizarding Law and then writing advisements to the Departments that required them.  He also spent a good deal of time listening to court hearings, and reading transcripts. 

And then, from time to time, he shared the duty of evaluating warrant requests and things like that straight from Level Two.  The clerk who served a half dozen Elders at Greyfriar's level had let him know that an Auror would be up to see him sometime that morning, a Jonas Trevelyan, about a warrant.  "Who's that, now?" he'd asked. 

The clerk had made a slightly amused cringe, "He's the, uh, one who... heh.  Trevelyan and Eleor were the ones who blew up the entrance last..."

"Oh...!" Knox was impressed.  That had been a royal catastrophe.  He had turned to go, but the clerk had more.

"He was the bloke was an Auror, then wasn't an Auror, was dead and then wasn't dead, and is now an Auror again..."

Knox had stopped in his turn and furrowed his brow.  "What?"

"Yes, 'what' indeed, sir.  He was tangled up in the abduction of that little boy in January.   But he's chummy with Head Auror Raynor so...was given a badge... so..." 

The Wizengamot Elder, at that point, was then looking at his clerk like he had an extra ear on his forehead.  "All that's coming to see me, eh?"  The clerk nodded.

"Well.  Send him in when he gets here."   Old Knox had blinked a few times as if to clear spots from his vision, and retreated into his office.[1]

1.	Wow.  This post needs so many footnotes.

'All that,' as it was, was running a good fifteen minutes later than he would have liked.

There were times when Jonas quite appreciated his partnership with Adon Eleor.  Working with the younger Auror, aside from him being a good and loyal friend with  a decent sense of humor, was almost like having his own perpetually grouchy office assistant.  The three things that seemed to irritate Adon the most in the world were (1) England's deficiencies when compared with Jerusalem; (2) any perceived injustices; and (3) his partner's inefficiency at properly filling out paperwork.  Jonas had learned early on that if he asked a few well-timed inane questions about what to write on this line or that, he could usually trigger Adon into giving a long-suffering huff and snatching the paperwork away to fill out himself, with the hunched shoulders and unhappy muttering of a secretarial martyr.

Consequently, he'd gotten used to his forms being perfectly filled out.  Unfortunately, now more than six months into their arrangement, Adon had also gotten too used to him.  The Israeli had never been a morning person, and unless they had a meeting scheduled, he now tended to come in at least half an hour later than Jonas on average.  Normally, this wasn't a problem, except for when Jonas had last minute questions about the warrant request paperwork that he'd 'allowed' Adon to fill out the night before.  As a result, he'd been left scrambling, which had turned into a barked exchange with his partner once he'd finally arrived before Jonas had left to hurry to the other half of Level Two.

He slowed his pace as he reached the Wizengamot Administrative Offices.  Aurors were never late; they had simply been distracted by other things that they had to do, like chasing down dark wizards and saving the world.  Attempting not to look hurried, he exchanged a brief word with the clerk -- who never seemed to be able to look him in the eye -- and then followed his directions to reach the office of Junior Wizengamot Elder Knox T. Greyfriar.

Junior Elder Greyfriar was a bit of a mystery.  Aside from requiring a contradictory form of address, Jonas knew very little about the man.  He was a werewolf, like Lexus, and that had caused quite a bit of inconvenience and consternation -- apparently no one at the Ministry had previously thought to make any rules restricting what could happen if a Wizengamot elder was inconsiderate enough to get bitten after having taken his post.  There had been a mess regarding a transformation a month or two ago, and though Jonas was mildly approving of any chaos caused by other people, he hadn't followed it closely.  There were more important things to worry about when it came to government; considering some of the injustices inflicted by the Ministry in the past, Jonas thought that a politician who admitted that he might actually want to eat you was somewhat of a refreshing change.

Whistling, he knocked on the door, and then strolled in to the cluttered office.  "Good morning, sir," he said cheerfully.  The trick to getting successfully signed warrants, he had discovered, was getting in and out quickly.  If he acted like there was nothing unusual about, the Wizengamot Elders usually did too.  "Hope you're well today.  You alright handling this bit of paperwork this morning?"

A cheery whistle, a knock at the door, and a tall smiling wizard in a red robe was in his office.  Knox straightened in his chair and looked over his reading glasses at who must be Jonas Trevelyan.  He glanced at the clock on the wall.  10:31.   

After all he'd heard about this man from his clerk, it was very easy to take his cheerful greeting as possibly psychotic.  At the least worrisome, but that was just his mind playing about, and for the moment, he could give this Auror some benefit of the doubt.  On an individual level.  So strained was his personal relationship with Tamis Raynor that an wizard who was even rumored to be in her favor was worthy of his suspicion. 

"Yes, good morning it is, Auror Trevelyan," he greeted kindly in turn.  Knox was a man both tall and broad, with thick black hair now streaked with grey at his temples.  (It had been an eventful year...)  He had a beard around his jawline, and thick eyebrows.  He was all over a contrast to the lean, long-faced, red-haired Auror before him. 

"Well indeed.  And happy as I can to be of assistance.  Let's have a look," he said in his baritone.

He held out his hand and was obliged with a thin file.  He set it on his desk, above the other things he'd been working on, and flipped it open.  Inside where the familiar documents that constituted a Request For a Warranted Search of Personal, Private or Political Property. 

He was silent for a moment as he looked it over, skimming to hit all the  major areas of interest so he could tell quickly if he had any questions.  It was the case concerning a burglary from last summer, looked like it had some overlap (or interference from the Dept of Mysteries, always a fun time), and it...

"This case is closed."  It was between a statement and a query.  "Or am I misled by this bit here?"  Knox turned the form back around to show the Auror what he meant.   There was an annotation of charges filed and of a conviction and a sentence. 

Why was it that people who noticed details always managed to be inconvenient?  Having spent ten years making a living in a profession that banked on public obtuseness, Jonas held nothing but ill will for those who paid too close attention.  The cabbie who asked for a second look at his quickly flashed private detective badge; the doorman who noticed that he hadn't said specifically which flat he was here to visit; the grandmother who wondered out loud if he wasn't the same young man who had driven by her house five times that morning in the broken down old brown car.  As much as he loved Adon, every time his partner noted that he was being unusually quiet or not giving direct answers to questions, Jonas had to swallow the instinctive reaction to want to throttle him.

And here -- here was the most dangerous out of all politicians.  Not only was he a man-eating monster on a bad day -- probably the magical world's closest equivalent to a Tory -- but he was paying attention.  Jonas eyed him while trying to look like he wasn't.  It must have been a predator thing.  Sensitive hearing, an attuned sense of smell, flesh-tearing teeth, and a vociferous eye for what should have been unimportant details -- they all came as part of the terrifying werewolf package.  Too bad Little Red Riding Hood had been too much of a typically obtuse citizen to notice the last bit; at least a mention in his daughter's favorite bedtime story would have given him fair warning.

"Uh.  Well, yeah," he started, not really sure where he was going with this.  "There has been an arrest."  And what?  Thanks, reckon I must have missed it?  Good on you for paying attention, sir?  Oi, is that someone's grandmother, why don't you look over there while I take a quill and fix that last bit?

"But the case isn't closed, sir," he said firmly, meeting Greyfriar's gaze.  "That thing that was lifted -- the Muhra Glass -- it's still missing.  Completely unaccounted for.  And the bloody Unspeakables are still griping about it, so it's not as if we can just file the investigation away and forget that it ever happened, can we?"

Auror was cheery but brusk, but Knox wasn't a wizard who let himself be rushed.  He'd muse, he'd prattle one, he'd take long pauses, and good fortune to whoever attempted to rush, hurry, or move him along.  So he let the Auror stand there at his desk as he turned the file back to himself.

"So it is.  So I see," he responded when the Auror clarified the nature of things. 

And then, "No, we most certainly can't."

And the file went on to explain.  There was an Attestation of an Expert there as well, detailing the value and powers of the stolen artifact.  It was stamped M.U.M.M.[1] all over it, by some over-eager clerk in the Department of Mysteries, no doubt.  The information actually on the Attestation was scanty and pocked with footnotes about items being uncorroborated or theoretical, but the galleon amount was telling enough, as was what was probably agitating the crap out of Level 9: 'suspected time-altering properties'. 

"Hmm, that would get them in a twist..." he commented as his finger reached that bit. 

On to the next, the actual warrant.  At the top Elder Greyfriar would be able to find the specific place that was being searched, and what for, and the scope and methods approved for the search.  In the middle would be sections justifying the search, with references to this file and the other documents, and then near the bottom places for Greyfriar to sign, next to Tamis Raynor. 

Knox skimmed through, but he was already smiling.  When he looked up, he took off his glasses. 

"You think this Muhra Glass is on the Hogwarts Express...?"

Knox Greyfriar had a great deal to be amused about.  He, better than perhaps anyone save Albus Dumbledore, knew how important the autonomy of Hogwarts was.  Approving a search was a rather charged subject and frankly he couldn't fathom why this Auror had come to him - had it been random or had Trevalyan hoped to find some favor in the former Headmaster of Hogwarts.   But not only that - the Muhra Glass somehow found itself aboard the Hogwarts Express.

"You do know where it's at right now, don't you?"  It wasn't easy storing trains when they weren't needed, you know.  It couldn't just sit idling at Platform 9 ³/₄.

"This is highly irregular," he was sure to add.

1.	Mandatory Unspoken Ministry Memorandum wiki

At least Elder Greyfriar did not seem to think that keeping the case open was too far out of line.  He went on reading, and Jonas stood there, trying not to look as though he were twiddling his thumbs in hopes of urging the Wizengamot Elder to dispense with the reviewing and get to work on his signature.

And then Greyfriar got to what was, to him, evidently the punchline.

"You think this Muhra Glass is on the Hogwarts Express...?"

Jonas opened his mouth, closed it again, and then gave a good-natured shrug.  Yes, it likely was highly irregular.  The only time he'd ever seen the train was on the way to and from Hogsmeade station.  But what about this job wasn't irregular?  He'd been bit by a three headed snake and had had his home invaded by an Israeli in a Santa suit, and at this point, he considered those both to be blindingly average days.

"Ah, can't say we know exactly where it is, no," the Auror admitted cheerfully.  "But to be honest with you, sir," he added, as if he were confiding information that was bound to be confidential, "I was sort of reckoning that by the time we finished with the warrant request, someone'd have to write in the address, and there we'd be, yeah?  If you want to pencil it in, I won't complain."

Oh he was clever, was he?  Knox Greyfriar humphed a little, good-naturedly.  He wasn't put off so much of this Auror with the strange reputation and oddly familiar way of talking.  Knox was pontifical enough not to worry about being manipulated or influence.  Not by young men like Trevelyan.  Greyfriar was tolerant of this little dance around the warrant.  He made a frowning thinking face and then, with a strange sort of shrug, he reached for his quill.

He dipped it in ink and poised it over his signature line.  He half-smiled at the Auror and shook his head.  "Alright then, Auror.  You'll get what you want."

Knox's large hand guided the quill in the quick swoops and slashes of his signature and applied the blotter.  He shut the file and handed it back. 

"There's a facility on the edge of Crewe in Cheshire.  You'll need to see Level Six for the address and access, I believe, but your warrant will get you in alright."

The Hogwarts Express was housed in an old converted train tunnel beneath the city of Crewe, where a small team of witches and wizards maintained the locomotive's old magical engines.  The muggles had built it to run on steam, but when it was appropriated by the Ministry to improve the secret transportation of students to Hogwarts it was outfitted with more familiar and practical magical means of propulsion.  The tunnel was hidden from muggles and the long facility was mostly unknown to even the Wizarding public.  Not by design but because of it's general dullness. 

Strange Auror had brought him a strange request.  And he'd obliged.  Aw well.  That was government.

"Good day, Auror."