Any other day of the week, the Ministry would have been already bustling with activity by the time she arrived, but Mondays seemed to have a slower pace.  There had been little activity outside the Visitor's Entrance; only a few souls more when she'd been transported down to the Minister of Magic's Office on Level One, the neatly-sealed missive clutched carefully in her hands.

Normally, Raizel would never have been on time for a meeting with anyone at the Ministry.  She hated feeling as if she were at anyone's beck and call, be it at Gringotts' or in the magical governmental office; hated feeling as if her sole purpose in all of this was to play messenger back and forth.  From her first meeting with Persepolis Zephyr, she had decided that she despised the older witch, who was too well-spoken and smiled too much.  She reminded Raizel too much of Dreogan when he was trying to play the diplomat -- and any thought of Dreogan right now made her stomach twist, and so she set her jaw and tried to force the memory aside.

Normally, she would have been late.  Today, she was preternaturally early, her Visitor's Badge gleaming bright on her sweater as she marched down the hallway to Persepolis Zephyr's office.  In and out as quickly as she could, and then she could slip onto Level Two afterwards, pay an unannounced visit that might at least calm her nerves a little.

The usual Welcome Witch was waiting outside the Minister's office.  Raizel gave her a haughty nod, waiting impatiently to be beckoned forward.  Governmental officials, she'd learned, were just like predators with their insincere smiles and well-planned words; as long as one didn't show any fear or weakness, one could stare them down.

Time always seemed to pass too slowly when she was here.  Finally -- finally -- her appointment was confirmed, and she was on her way into the Minister's office.  Raizel kept her chin held high as she strolled into Persepolis Zephyr's office. 

"Minister Zephyr."  The blonde Cursebreaker gave the witch a stiff nod as she stopped in front of her desk.  Without waiting for an invitation, she grabbed for one of the fine chairs reserved for important visitors.  Holding the letter between two fingers, as if it were something foul that she dreaded touching, she tossed it on the desk in front of the Minister so that the elaborate wax seal of Gringotts was prominently visible.

She would not play the game by making polite small talk; she never did.  Besides, they both knew the purpose of this meeting.  Through careful negotiation, the Ministry of Magic had managed to push back the deadline to transfer the Goblet of Fire to the Gringotts goblins.[1]  But now, that deadline was drawing near.  If the Ministry didn't turn over the Goblet by midnight on December 21, the goblins had threatened to start freezing governmental accounts at Gringotts.  And that, Raizel was certain, would make no one happy.

1.	First mentioned in Merchants of the Earth

Minister Zephyr, in indigo robes and round violet glasses, was behind her stately desk and stood upon the entrance of her next article of business.  It was the witch who was helping them solve this mess with the Gringotts goblins, a witch called Raizel Cohen. 

They'd met already.  Zephyr narrowed her eyes as she smiled coldly as Cohen sauntered in and took a seat.  Zephyr was certainly not accustomed to being openly disliked, but it was no impediment.  There was a confidence that came with being utterly in command, a confidence that things would go through and nothing would come crashing down.  So a surly Cursebreaker was no cause for mourning or gnashing of teeth.

"Ms Cohen."

She lit her fingertips to the top of her desk and raised her chin.  "Thank you for coming." 

"I hear you've been talking to Cameron Rosier.  What about?"

The information was easily available to Zephyr.  She need only flick a wand and she'd receive a report from the heart of Level Two.  But this was where she wanted to begin, to hear it from Cohen's perspective, and establish context for what she really needed to discuss: The Goblet of Fire.

Zephyr didn't sit yet, nor did she offer refreshment.

Raizel blinked in surprise at the witch's question, startled and suddenly wary.  But the concern showed through for only a moment before she had schooled herself into a guarded expression once more, watching Zephyr with worried eyes.  These sorts of questions -- about her, not about the goblins or their motives -- were not the way that this conversation was supposed to go.  Talking about herself meant that the Minister wanted her to give something away about herself, which made it all the more likely that this exchange was some sort of trap.

She gave a breezy shrug, her gaze never straying from the other woman's face.   There weren't many people on the lawful side of the divide that she'd ever claim to tolerate, but the employees of the British Ministry's Department of Magical Law Enforcement had been slowly growing on her.  She didn't trust Cameron Rosier, not entirely and certainly not in the same way that she might extend to some of his subordinates, but the older wizard had been slowly growing on her.  He took her seriously.  She liked the feeling that she was cooperating, and was therefore included and important.  If suspending her mistrust of the government long enough to have conversations in Rosier's parlor was the price of that, then she was willing to put her fears temporarily on hold.

But that did not apply to Persepolis Zephyr, whose strange purple glasses matched her robes in a dizzying way and who, for all her polite smiles, did not look at all pleased to see the Cursebreaker.  Raizel watched her cautiously, her jaw set.  The letter from the goblins lay decidedly unopened before them on the desk.  She did not trust this, but there was no easy escape from it.

"We talk," she said simply, with her best brazenly unconcerned tone.  "Sometimes he asks questions.  Why?" she asked bluntly, eyebrows raising in challenge.  "Did you want to talk to him too?"

Persepolis was honestly shocked at Ms Cohen's lack of respect for the office.  Not in a personal way but in a Is-This-What-Hogwarts-Turns-Out, I think not, I should say. 

"This isn't an interrogation, Ms Cohen," Zephyr said and settled into her chair.  She looked disappointed, her brow furrowed not in anger but regret.  "But it is important, isn't it.  I'm not the sort to waste my time, so perhaps you can give me the benefit of the doubt that what I'm asking you is also important.  You're here because you matter, my dear, not because you're in trouble."

She leaned forward and rested her forearms on the desk and laced her fingers together, but for her index fingers steepled as to point towards Raizel.

"Please.  What have you been discussing with Mr. Rosier? I'd like your perspective.  It may help us."

Us.  Yes, all of them.  Wasn't that what this was all about? Finding the truth, setting things right? Zephyr was not naive.  She knew that not everyone respected their Ministry of Magic and that with any governance there were mistakes.  But they could not fight among themselves or be so mistrustful, could they?  Youth these days.  Always fighting against something, tilting at windmills, is it?

Persepolis Zephyr might not call this an interrogation, but all of the trappings -- the closed door, the grave atmosphere, everything except for the ridiculous purple glasses -- screamed of it.  Adnan Musallam had not called their "chat" an interrogation either, but words didn't change the heart of what that exchange had been.  And here Raizel was, barely more than a week later and this time without any friends by her side, seated in front of another governmental official who was insisting that she only wanted to talk.

The Cursebreaker sat stiffly, her posture tense and her shoulders braced as if she expected a very strong wind to attempt to blow her away.  Some of the phrases that Zephyr was using -- you matter and your perspective -- were the sort that she normally would have liked the sound of, but sitting here in this office, they only served to strengthen her resolve.  She wasn't going to let anyone intimidate her, let alone some British witch who wanted the world to look purple.

She gave a careless shrug, though her gaze did not leave Zephyr's expression.  She had given her perspective to Rosier already, and to Adon plenty of times before and since then.  She did not need to give it one more time.

"He told me about the girl who died[1]," she said harshly, curtly.  It took effort to form the sharp edges around each word, to keep the sounds precise and in place.  Sometimes she hated English and all of its unnecessary words.  It kept one from getting to the point.  "He asked me some questions about the goblins.  I answered them."  She shrugged her shoulders again, nonchalant and dismissive, but there was a wary, sharp edge to her gaze now -- she tilted her head, eyes locked on those funny purple glasses.

"I told him everything I know," she added defensively, folding her arms tightly against her chest.  She hated bringing up Adon's name, but with the hard knot that was forming in her throat and the sinking, panicky feeling that was starting to flutter inside her, her friend was the best defense she could muster.  "Auror Eleor, too.  I have been cooperating."

1.	Mentioned in Chartreuse

Perhaps for another administrator such obstinance would have been a souring reagent, but for Persepolis, she honestly reveled in the game.  Could she win a heart or mind from this witch solid as stone and as immovable?  You didn't become Minister of Magic hating a bit of a debate, by avoiding negotiations, by being weepy when disliked.  Could she win over Raizel Cohen yet?  It was easier to win the game when one was trussed up in the truth, when Zehpyr didn't even have to lie.  She believed in what she was doing here. 

Sincerity was difficult to ignore.

And sincere was her expression of grief at the mention of the dead young women found in Knockturn, and sincere too was the encouraging nod of the head and slow blink of her eyes when she claimed to have cooperated fully with Rosier and his Aurors. 

"And at some personal risk, I understand.  It can't be easy being where you are.  It's the service of those like you that keep this Ministry working at its best.  Altruism," she said with a sad smile, "is not lost on me, be sure."

She sighed and in a gesture characteristic to Persepolis Zephyr, she opened her palms to the ceiling.  An inviting gesture, almost ecclesiastic.

"I dread to impose on you further, but there are forces at work that won't wait for us to become friends.  I shall have to rely on you to trust me, to accept some further imposition on your time.  Ms. Cohen, what interest does Gringotts have in the Goblet of Fire?"

Persepolis Zephyr was now saying the right words, but they didn't ease the bitter taste in Raizel's mouth.  It can't be easy -- the service -- she didn't have a choice in whether she served or not, and that fact made the Cursebreaker's expression twist sourly.  All of this -- everything that had happened in the past week -- had been presented to her as if she didn't have a choice, as if the only reasonable option was to shackle herself to the yoke and bitterly shoulder on, and the expectation that she could do nothing but be responsible made her want to do little else than abandon all of these people and their expectations and flee back into the world.

She watched the Minister sulkily, not looking at all impressed by the witch's sincerity.  Trust had nothing to do with whether or not she would answer Persepolis Zephyr's questions.  But unless she was prepared to give up on all of this -- to escape, to disappear, to give up on Adon and Dreogan and Akiva at the time when she'd promised them all that she never would -- then answer she would.

She huffed and gave a shrug, managing to make the act of having to raise and drop one shoulder look as though it were a horrible imposition.

"It's goblin made," she said sourly.   It didn't take someone who knew the goblins to figure out the answer to this question; obviously Persepolis Zephyr should have put two and two together already.  "It's listed as Subitem XVII in The Affronts."  She snorted, giving a dismissive wave of her hand. "They want it back.  Just like they want back the Sword of Gryffindor, the Cup of Helga Hufflepuff, the Battle Helm of Bodrod the Bearded, the Silver Mace of Hodrod the Horny-Handed, the Mirror of Erised, the thirty silver badges commissioned by Despostic and Authoritarian Ruling Minister Unctuous Osbert --"

The Minister cut her off with a chirrup of an interjection.  "Yes! But is it?  Is it really?" 

She rose from her seat with a glint in her eye and began to move across the floor in her voluminous robes, like a cloud in indigo.

"Our inspections have not borne out any conclusive proof.  Clearly, it's powerfully enchanted - the singular work of a master, no doubt."  The Goblet of Fire was capable of creating magically binding contracts, and it seemed to have its own inherent will.  Powerful magic indeed.  Not beyond goblin abilities, but neither is it beyond the work of wizards.

"But it's made of wood! You've seen it, surely? Rough hewn from a solid bough, intricate runework... It's unlike any goblin artefact heard of.  Now, that doesn't make it impossible, but its enough of a question to wonder...why?"

She paused in her pacing and repeated her question again.  "So, why then, would the goblins demand the Goblet when their claim on it is so tenuous?  They have a great deal many more items in contention, and aren't we reminded often of that, and many of them more valuable or powerful or of greater significance to goblinkind.  Why demand back the Goblet now when it is being employed? Why stake Gringotts Bank itself as the ultimatum?  Surely their threat to stop all Ministry funding could never just be cordially recovered, could never restore faith once revoked.  It's all very rash."

Blast to Ms. Cohen's indifference.  There was something going on and it wasn't what it appeared to be.  She stopped then and looked steadily at the blonde witch from somewhere abroad.  A witch who spends every day among the goblins, among their troves, and navigating their wills and warrants.  She had to know something.  There had to be some little gem squirreled away in that brain of hers. 

Everything about the Cursebreaker's posture still suggested extreme indifference -- the slouch of her shoulders, the unhappy set to her expression -- but she was watching Persepolis Zephyr more intently now, her eyes locked on the older witch.  She shifted position uncomfortably as the Minister spoke, her eyes tracking the witch's movements beyond the grand desk.   This game of guessing the goblins' intentions made her stomach twist uneasily.  There was enough danger in her life now without letting herself be drawn in to challenge her current employers on top of it all.  And she knew from experience -- the fingers of her right hand curled almost unconsciously, pressing against her palm -- that the goblins did not lightly take any challenge to their designs.

Carved wood, intricate rune work -- it certainly did not sound as if it were of goblin make, though she itched to get her fingers on such an artifact anyhow.  Raizel shifted closer to the edge of her chair, crossing her arms tightly against her chest as if the gesture might offer some sort of protection against the designs of the woman now standing across from her.

"I haven't seen the Goblet," she corrected, the defensive note unmistakable in her voice.  Chances were that the Gringotts goblins hadn't seen it either; plausibility rarely came into play when there was something that they wanted. 

Which was really the root of this, after all.  Raizel shrugged, her eyes still warily on the Minister.  "I am sure that they demanded it because they wanted to get your attention," she said shortly.  "Why else would they?  You don't negotiate by asking for what you want."

Cohen hadn't seen it.  Of course she hadn't.  Persepolis had forgotten that her position gave her access to Hogwarts business that others did not.  Surely there were photographs of the Goblet, but that was nothing to seeing it up close...  Cohen hadn't seen it.  Did she want to?  Did the goblins want to?

A little light came on inside Persepolis's brain and it caused her expressed to go slack for a moment, for the facade to fade.  All this time she'd assumed the Goblins were as familiar with the artefact as Hogwarts was, that they were very much informed about its capabilities.  Merlin's Bones... that's why they'd agreed to participate in the Second Task...[1]  It had seemed so bizarre at the time...

The goblins were curious...

Persepolis's eyes narrowed again, her smile blooming again, her poise returning.  Raizel Cohen had said the truth that was hiding in plain sight. 

"What they want is to inspect the Goblet.  They've never seen it.  But they know what it can do.  Very useful magic for Gringotts.  They're claiming it to force an examination so they can learn its secrets."

Persepolis shared her thoughts but asked no questions, instead studying the face of Raizel Cohen.  Did she know? Did it, at the least, make sense to her? Persepolis hoped for the tiniest give-away, something to confirm her suspicions, to shed light on this new revelation. 

1.	A goblin from Gringotts hosted one of the challenge tunnels and many borrowed artefacts and prizes were included for the event.

Aside from the magic that had gone into its creation, Raizel had very little interest in this Goblet.  She had barely paid any attention to the Tournament that was occurring at Hogwarts this year; its existence mattered little to her, considering that it was not important enough for Beit Gaddol to attend. 

If the magical cup hadn't actually been crafted by goblins -- and if it was made out of wood, then that possibility seemed more and more unlikely -- then she doubted that the creatures that ran Gringotts Bank shared even her academic interest.  They did not care about magic; they cared about power and things, primarily those things crafted by their brethren.  A wizard-magic object that could not be sold or traded did not seem like it would capture their hearts and minds.

But it seemed that this Goblet mattered very much to Persepolis Zephyr.  Raizel frowned, eyeing the witch warily.  It was obvious what answer the Minister of Magic wanted to hear.  And who was she to argue with such a powerful woman, especially one who could easily cause trouble for her?

"Maybe..." she said slowly.  "That is possible, I think."  Even to her own ears, that did not sound as if she were buying in to the party line, so she quickly gave a shrug.  "They like secrets," she agreed, cocking her head to give the other witch a curious look.  "What can it do?  It's just used for that school contest, yeh?"

"Now that you ask me," Persepolis said slowly, "I find I must not fully know..."

Quickly, Persepolis Zephyr was losing interest in what Raizel Cohen had to say and sinking into her own thoughts.  She knew the function the Goblet served in the Tournament and that it's powers created a suitably dangerous risk for the competitors.  It was much of the reason the Tournament was so important.  The Goblet was a very strict referee and unforgiving in its rules.  The goblin's keen interest, or so much as Zephyr now suspected, only enhanced her own.  Did she really know all there was to know about it?  Was Hogwarts using the goblet to its full abilty?

She came up again from a moment of private thought. 

"Can you keep a secret, Raizel Cohen?"  Every question she'd asked Ms Cohen had been answered with a less than confidence-making response.  And surely this question would produce no different.  Everything Raizel Cohen said seemed guarded, disinterested, and insincere.  But could she keep a secret voluntarily? 

Elsewise, she may have to bring in an Obliviator to assist.  If she really had come to the reason the goblins wanted the Goblet, then it wouldn't do to have that information gadding about.

The Cursebreaker gave a half-hearted shrug in reply, but she was clearly perched on the edge of her seat, eyes fixed on the Minister and her head cocked curiously to the side.  There was nothing more intriguing than something she did not know about.  The Goblet of Fire had seemed some dusty, unimportant object mere moments before, but the mere suggestion that it might harbor untold secrets -- secrets that not even the British Minister for Magic had suspected -- had increased its appeal tenfold. 

Most magical objects were not very interesting.  Even the supposedly legendary ones were really just metal, wood, and enchantments, when one got right down to it.  But the thrill of not knowing -- the rush of deciphering an enchantment, of discovering some aspect of a spell that no one else knew -- that was what fascinated her.

"I won't tell the goblins anything," she said, very quickly.  She gave another quick shrug, but there was no hiding the eager glint in her eyes.  "Do you think that we could find out what the Goblet does?"

"Oh dear me."

Persepolis Zephyr muttered darkly at the cursebreaker's sudden interest.  It was barely there, but it was a different feeling from the guarded witch.  It had to be interest when before it had been resentment.  And she now had a decision to make.  Use Raizel Cohen, or lose her. 

To use her would be to bring her on board, to swear her in and truss her up and make use of her connections and skill.  She was a cursebreaker afterall.  This was what they did. 

But could she be trusted?  Would Cohen trust Zephyr?  Would it not be better to scrub this up with help from her favorite scrubber-upper Obliviator Zamperia who helped her keep things tidy? 

"But you still work for Gringotts," Zephyr explained her earlier hesitation.   "There may be a conflict of interest.  So rarely do Gringotts' and this Ministry's interests not conflict.  You'd be pulled in two directions, Ms Cohen.  I think this may not be what you want."

Go on then, Cohen.  Tell me I'm wrong.  Zephyr smiled very kindly.

But she still worked at Gringotts.  The mage visibly hesitated for a split second.  She certainly did still work at the magical bank; right now, her connections there were proving to be useful in analyzing the records of the Eleor family vault, and they'd surely continue to be helpful in the search for Dreogan. 

That didn't mean that she'd continue to work there.  Every day spent under the suspicious watch of the goblins was harder and harder to force her way through, and her desire to quit was quietly being stoked from a smolder into a full-fledged flame.  But explaining that -- the continuing unease and discomfort, the way her fingers curled every time one of them looked at her funny -- it felt too personal.  She certainly wasn't going to give that information to this witch, with her smooth words and her funny purple glasses.

Raizel shook her head emphatically.  "I don't mind it," she said with determination.  "Why would I tell the goblins if we found out what the goblet did?  I am here talking to you."