October 30, 2012
6:57 pm

Beneath the official Minister of Magic letterhead, the memo said:


It was late in the day on a Friday, and most of the Ministry staff would have already begun their journeys home for the weekend.  And that's how Zephyr had planned it.  She needed a little more privacy than normal business hours would allow, and so as late as she could, she sent off the memo.  And then dismissed her clerk.

"No, that'll be all, Miss Nolan.  I can manage one Obliviator I think.  Have a lovely weekend," she'd said.  And then she'd left her office door slightly ajar, and went inside to wait for Obliviator Mihai Zamperia.  An Obliviator with a certain reputation. 

Zephyr also had a certain reputation.  Upstanding.  Socially graceful.  Right down the middle of the road.  But things weren't always what they seemed, and she'd had to work very hard for that to be true.  Appearances took effort, and sustaining them was everything.  Even the cleanest people had to wash behind their ears. 

When Mihai received the memo, all he could do was shake his head and sigh. Special Assignment. He didn’t think he’d be reading those words anytime soon, but perhaps there were a few muggles who were somehow evading getting caught and having their memories altered. Maybe Zephyr wanted him to track down a wizard who knew too much information about a case, information that could jeapordize the safety of the people involved.

He walked to her office, and before knocking on the door, he tightened his tie and straightened out his clothes. The obliviator did not want to look anything less than professional. He knocked on the door before letting himself in, closing the door gently behind him. Mihai examined the minister, taking in everything from how she dressed to her body language.

“You wanted to see me?” Mihai lowered his voice, “I am to understand that it’s regarding a special assignment.” He had always been direct and to the point when it came to his work. It was not only easier for everybody involved, but  it also meant that he could get the job done quickly and move on with his life. Hopefully, this assignment would be an easy one. The Cigano was beginning to think that perhaps his retirement was going to be a bit more active than the average man’s. 

She stood when he entered.

"Good.  You're here." 

Normally, Minister of Magic Zephyr was a bright songbird of a witch, with a lovely speaking voice and always a pleasant, warm smile.  She attempted always to appear genuine, but already she was realizing how difficult it could be to remain 'on point' at all times with such a burdensome new post.   She was beginning to ration that public sphere cheer, even if she did not yet notice.  And so she was not the same delightful, effusive witch this evening with the Obliviator.  She was calmer somehow.

Perhaps it was the occasion.

She did not offer him a place to sit.  Part of her knew he probably would not take it.  Every time she asked someone to sit in their office, their reaction seemed to imply the offer made them uncomfortable.  So she allowed people to stand, and may the bold take a chair at their own risk.  Not that she minded.  Instead, she sat herself back down and folded her long fingers over a red folder file.

"I do, in fact, Obliviator.  I wonder, sir, what kind of wizard you are.  I hope that you understand that in my position there are things that must be done that cannot be widely known.  I should think that you, above all people, would know this."  He was an Oblivator.  His occupation was centered on the accurate and deliberate allotment of truths and knowledge.  Not everyone got to know everything and there was nothing sinister about it. 

"Please, hold out your hand."

Persepolis Zephyr was one of a dwindling number of Wizarding Folk who held very closely to Divination.  For whatever reason, this important aspect of magic was going out of fashion, but not for Persepolis.  It was as useful and real as any transfiguration, as plucking a magical herb.  She would not waste any useful resource.

She beckoned him closer, and held out her own hand.

There was something off about the woman, though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. Mihai assumed that whatever assignment she had in store for him, it was serious. As she sat back down, he took that as an invitation to sit down as well. The obliviator grabbed one of the chairs and brought it to her desk, sitting down across from her, his posture professional, yet relaxed. His dark eyes rested upon the red folder. Maybe it held the assignment, or if it was serious-- it only held part of the assignment, and he had to go find the other pieces of it elsewhere.

He was hesitant about holding his hand out for the minister-- what if she wanted to draw blood? It woudln’t have been the first time that someone had done that. There was a lot of magic one could do with another person’s blood, some of it should have been illegal. Mihai gave her an inquisitive look and finally held it out. Perhaps all she wanted to do was a little divination-- that, he had no problems with. There were many diviners in his culture, and they were highly respected.

“Who I am, depends on who I need to be. I am willing to get things done that need to be done.” He said simply. In matters regarding his daughter, he needed to be a supportive father. When it came to obliviating, he needed to be flawless. Around his parents, he needed to be the perfect son. When studying the memory, he needed to pay attention to every detail. Who he was and what he did depended on the situations he was in. Like everybody else, he had his own stubborn set of morals and opinions, but he wouldn’t express them unless asked to.

“What kind of witch are you, Ms. Zepyhr?” Mihai inquired--his gaze never left her face. He knew very well the kind of people who often asked for his services, and the minister did not seem like one of them.

But then again, she was a politician.

Persepolis noticed Zamperia paused, but soon he obeyed her simple request.  She leaned forward across her desk to gently but firmly take his hand in both of hers.  She cupped his open palm and wiped his hand over top of his to smooth out the surface of his hand. 

She glanced up at him as he answered her question thoughtfully, and then posed on of his own.  She tilted her head.

"The same as you." 

She was who she needed to be.  And she got things done.  Either they had just come to an important understanding, or they had set themselves on opposite ends of a great open span.  She smiled very carefully.  They'd have to see.

Still holding his palm in hers, she reached to her right for a small decanter.  She thumbed away the stopper, which was tethered to the bottle neck with a bit of purple chord, and then poised it ready to pour over Mihai Zamperia's open hand.

"Hold still," she said, sounding unconcerned.  And then she poured a thin flow of clear liquid into his hand.  It was only water - a substance so incredibly mundane and thus very useful in many magical ventures.  Water never lied.  It was honest.  And it had a memory.

When it hit the valleys and hills of Zamperia's hand, the water slipped into the narrow cracks and grooves, and pooled in low areas.  Even the  smallest lines, pores, and fingerprints were made alive by the water's path through them.  Zephyr watched as patterns formed.  She tilted his hand left.  Then she tilted it right, allowing the water to touch more of his hand, slip into places it hadn't explored it. 

And then, after about three minutes of this with neither of them speaking, Zephyr smiled again, but this time it reached her eyes.  She released Zamperia, sat back and looked up.

"Good news, then.  I can see that in your hands, the task will be successful."  She handed him a yellow tea towel from a side table within reach.

If she seemed tense before, a good deal of that was gone now.

"I need you to erase a witch's memory of a certain event."

His hand twitched reflexively when he felt the cool water hit the surface, but he didn’t pull away. Mihai looked directly at Persepolis, not once allowing his gaze to shift elsewhere. It seemed that she was a diviner, and that was something he could respect. To him, divination was just as solid a branch of magic as transfiguration or charms. In his culture, divination was widely used, and it was something that he was quite comfortable with. Mihai found it unusual how many wizards were so skeptical of it, as it had certainly helped him in the past. But then again, Mihai’s experience with divination’s reliability was purely anecdotal. He had never been a skilled diviner, though his mother was.

The obliviator pulled his hand away and accepted the tea towel. He wiped his hand and absentmindedly folded the towel, placing it on her desk. Something was different in the woman’s expression, and that meant that the news must have been good. Whatever she wanted him to do, it would be successful.

Not that it would have mattered, Mihai would have taken the necessary precautions to make sure that his mission would be successful, regardless of what the minister divined.

When she revealed what his mission was, his eyes seemed to sparkle, though his expression remained serious. His retirement was certainly going to be an interesting one. “I’m going to need more information than that.” He said, “Who is the witch, what memory do you need erased?” Mihai was also curious about the why, but it wasn’t necessary information. It also wasn’t necessarily relevant. And sometimes it was better not to know the reason why she needed his help-- some reasons may make the quality of his work less than perfect.

Right, exactly.  When Mr Zamperia went right to the details, Persepolis laid her hands on the closed red file in front of her, but did not open it.  It contained the exact details of the memory in question, as specific as she could be.  She'd learned that the more exact the tale, the cleaner 'cut' the Obliviator could make.  It also contained a description of the replacement memory so that there'd be no lost time, and it would be less likely that a memory was missed.  Even a Pensieve would be hard to discern the different between an altered memory and a true one...if expertly done.

And Mr Zamperia came with the reputation of an expert.  An artist. 

"Her name is Sylvia Whitman," she said in her low voice.  She wondered if Zamperia knew the name.  The Whitmans were quite a prominent pureblooded family, and the young heir of the family Oscar Whitman even sat on the Wizengamot.  They were wealthy.  And Persepolis had made certain promises for the support of the old, Purist witch.  Promises that she'd rather not keep, and that she'd rather not anyone know about.

"She possess knowledge of a night we met together, at my home in Edinburgh on the night of the eleventh of June.  Just this summer.  We met from 6:15 pm and she stayed for dinner.  After we attended to our... business, she left around 10:30 pm.  After that moment, we had no more contact - it's only that dinner and subsequent discussion that needs to be removed.  Entirely."

"No one can know we met, or what we talked about.  Not even Mrs Whitman."

She said it in the gravest of tones.  It was important.  She couldn't be tied to this woman, not now.  She'd dirtied her hands - she'd had to.  But that was no reason not to wash up. 

Despite the confidence gained in the palm reading, Persepolis was still left doubting somewhat.  Stern-faced, she meant to impose upon him the utmost of direness.  "Really, I must insist on discretion.  The topic was quite sensitive and could endanger this Ministry's reputation.  I need your full assurances."

"I'll be able to provide you with her whereabouts and schedule for the next couple of days.  I hope you'll be discreet."

He looked at the red file, and he assumed that it had all the information he needed to be accurate. Persepolis was so professional about this, he wondered if she had asked for similar services in the past.  She seemed far too comfortable with it to be a newbie, but maybe it was the politician in her that was so smooth with these sorts of interactions.

”Her name is Sylvia Whitman”

Sylvia Whitman. He recognized the last name, and that name was followed with a deep feeling of disgust. He assumed that this Sylvia Whitman was a pureblood, and probably one of those purebloods who felt like they had to keep magic in the family. Mihai had strong feeling regarding those kinds of wizards, though he felt like now was not the appropriate time to express them. Finding Sylvia Whitman did not sound like it would be very challenging, as Zephyr had her schedule.  Getting her alone may be a bit more difficult.

“I’ll do it.” He said confidently, “Is her schedule in the file as well?” Mihai hesitated, “Would you like me to alter my own memory afterwards?” He was not one who was against altering his own memories. He could even alter the minister’s own memory as well—he had done that plenty of times before.

Persepolis seemed startled at the offer, and she tried to conceal her worry.  Of course any competent witch or wizard was capable of altering memories, but the skill and training of an Obliviator went well beyond that.  The implications of his question were harrowing and it all hit her rather suddenly.

It made one think - had her memory ever been altered before? How would one even know?  Who was safe? She realized now, more than ever, why people studied the mysterious art of Occlumency.  Perhaps she should as well.  Perhaps it was an unavoidably requisite skill for someone in her place. 

She was now eyeing the Obliviator suspiciously, not sure what to say.  His would know best how to handle an issue like this...

"My own memory needn't be altered," she said firmly.  "And nor do I require that you alter yours.  I am correct in understanding that Obliviators are already sworn to secrecy under disciplinary code in your own Department?"

Although he hadn’t seemed particularly tense before, his body very visibly relaxed. Although he was very capable of altering his own memory, it didn’t mean that he wanted to. He preferred to know what he did, and would much rather live with the guilt of having done something morally questionable than live life oblivious to his own history. Mihai gave Persepolis a small but genuine smile, he would very gladly work for her in the future, knowing that she wouldn’t require this out of him.

“Thank you.” He said gratefully. Whereas just a few minutes ago, he had been very professional and almost cold, now he was warm and relaxed. It seemed that Mihai’s guard had gone down, though it was not like he expected the Minister to attack him. No, he needed to detach himself from her and keep himself detached in the event that she wanted him to erase her own memory, or even his own. “I would not erase your memory without your permission.” He clarified, surprised that she had immediately jumped to that conclusion before he had even asked about her.

“I am sworn to secrecy.” The Cigano acknowledged, nodding his head, “But I hold myself to higher standards.” It didn’t mean he always wanted to hold himself up to the standards he set for himself, but it was necessary for certain jobs he had accepted in the past.

When Zamperia showed signs of comfort and relaxation and relief, that seemed to ease the tension Minister Zephyr as feeling.  Perhaps she and the other wizard were on the same page.  Perhaps this would go as smoothly as the rolling waters had indicated. 

She took a long pause, folded her hands over the file, and thought.  As Minister, she was always given time to pause, and no one was permitted to rush her, except perhaps her secretaries and assistants who were in charge of keeping her schedule.  But not Obliviators and not in matters like this.  She thought.  She needed to feel sure.

And after a few long moments, she did.  She looked up, set her jaw and nodded resolutely.

"There.  Then it's decided.  Here you are, Obliviator."  She finally handed him the thin red file, and then stood up.

"Report back to me by memo when you've completed your assignment."  She didn't feel she needed to remind him to be discreet. 

She offered her hand to shake his.  "Your efforts are appreciated.  Good night."

Mihai stood up and took the red file. He opened it and glanced at it for jsut a moment. He placed his wand on the page and muttered a spell under his breath-- almost instantly, the pages went blank. He didn’t want anybody to know that he had this information. In the extremely unlikely case that it got in the wrong hands, he did not want others to be able to read it. “As soon as I have the information memorized, I will destroy this file.” He said, shaking her hand firmly. “Good night. I will have it completed within a week.” It wasn’t going to be challenging; he didn’t need to even leave the country to complete this job.

He gave the minister a polite nod before leaving her office, closing the door silently behind him.

End Thread