Rosier sat on the floor of his study. It was covered with parchments, envelopes, general trash and dust. But that was hardly news. Rosier was an unorganized person most of the time, but he enjoyed this kind of mess. Sitting there, almost under his carved, wooden desk he read something from a yellowed piece of paper. The study was engulfed in a cloud of smoke, but at least he wasn't drinking gin this time. A girly-looking tea set was placed on the desk together with an assortment of éclairs, macarons and sugary marzipan roses. Puck the house elf really knew how to put a smile on his master's grumpy face sometimes.

He came back from Morocco two days ago and was already busy. He expected many things back home, but not a promotion at the Ministry. Truth be told he deserved Azkaban, but since he spent some nights in prison in Marrakesh he decided it was wise not to complain. Rosier was given a difficult task, however all he could do was to accept it gracefully and move on. It was either that or back to exile and he wasn't sure if he had strength to do the 'exile thing' once again. Also he realized how selfish some of his acts were - some people here depended on him and maybe even missed him. The house elf missed him for sure, but he hardly counted as a person...Rascal probably missed him from time to time, maybe even Dolly.

Sitting there, kind of in his own little world, Rosier was surprised he heard the doorbell. Who was it now? And why was that bloody elf not rushing to the door? "Puck! Door!" he yelled at the walls, sort of crawling through the mess on his floor. "PUCK!" He got up and limped out the corridor. "Puck, the doorbell! Where is that bloody elf...PUCK!" Sighing, he decided to do the difficult task of opening the door all by himself. This time in his best boxers (the ones with purple stars), a stained dress shirt and Moroccan-style slippers.

As he opened the door he found himself face to face with his favorite Auror. One could notice that Rosier's sunburn was so severe it was almost the same shade as Trevelyan's hair. "Trevelyan..." he said, slightly surprised, but somehow glad to see his old colleague. "Come in, come in...Would you like some tea?" Maybe it was best to offer Trevelyan as much food and beverages as possible - it might make him speak less. Actually, there was no hope, Rosier knew he will hear about twenty speeches from this ginger. 

Jonas had prepared himself for the inevitable, but it was still somehow unsettling when it happened.

He knew from his considerable experience in paying house calls, gained both from his work as a private investigator and in his dual stints as an Auror that had bookended that career, that when most people received a knock on the door, they made certain to check that they were wearing trousers before they answered it.  Cameron Rosier did not only not check, he evidently didn't even notice, and now as a consequence, Jonas was being greeted by a celestial horizon of purple stars that were far more disorienting than the heavens ever could be.

And yet, even knowing that this would be his inevitable greeting (well, knowing in general -- he certainly hadn't known about the purple stars, which Jonas now found himself decidedly wishing that he could un-know), he had come anyhow.  Cameron Rosier had been missing from the Ministry for over a month.  Before that, he had been undeniably fixated on a case that Jonas felt slightly guilty for dragging him into.  If he had simply bucked up and agreed to go have a chat with Rosier over some paperwork instead of making up excuses to scamper off on a wild goose chase that had unfortunately turned fruitful, perhaps his former boss wouldn't have fallen over the edge of sanity that he spent so much time dangerously skirting.

Former boss.  Those were the key words.  Jonas owed this man no sort of allegiance now, not even with rumors of some sort of promotion -- promotion?! -- leaking out.  And yet here he found himself anyway, resigned and slightly rueful, doing his best not to make eye contact with Rosier's lack of trousers as the older wizard opened the door.

"Tea?"  This was a good start.  Jonas flashed his former boss a grin as he entered the home.  At least Rosier had stopped shouting the slightly muffled profanities that Jonas had heard through the door prior to its opening.  He wasn't certain that he wanted to know what had triggered that.  "Yeah, I reckon that'd be nice.  Sorry for the sudden drop in," he said, casting a careful glance around the foyer as he turned towards Rosier.  "I'd heard you were back in town, so when I was in the neighborhood, I thought I'd stepped by."

That was an outright lie.  The only time that he had ever come to this neighborhood was when he had been directly summoned, which was when he had been slightly younger and considerably more innocent, in that he hadn't known to worry whether or not Rosier would be wearing pants.  That was the sort of detail that one assumed that the Head of Magical Law Enforcement would not leave up to consideration.  But despite it all -- despite the man's abusive nature, and his drinking problem, and his mysterious trysts with mysterious authors, and the fact that he regularly stole paperwork from his subordinates' desks -- Jonas couldn't help somewhat liking Rosier.  Caring about him.  Despite it all, the bloke had grown on him.

"Although maybe we ought to be drinking something a bit stronger'n tea?  I hear congratulations are in order," he added cheerfully, flashing Rosier a smile.  "Mister Senior Undersecretary, yeah?  Reckon I'd like to know how you pulled that one off."

As they stepped into to the lobby of Rosier's ostentatiously decorated townhouse, the Auror already excused himself with the standard 'I was in the neighborhood' lie. More like - he heard some gossip in the office and decided to snoop around. But Rosier didn't mind, he only hoped Trevelyan didn't use the same excuse when speaking to a lady, because it never worked. "How thoughtful," was all he said to the Auror, but not in his usual unkind way. Unless Trevelyan had some ulterior motives, this gesture indeed was thoughtful. It was sort of refreshing to see a familiar face though and he only just realized that. After weeks of mingling with strangers in a desert and haggling with the street vendors of Marrakesh, this guy seemed almost like a friend to him.

"You're more than welcome to peek inside my liquor cabinet, though I'm afraid you'll be slightly disappointed," he said with a usual frown as he led his colleague through a dark corridor. Rosier drank everything he owned and then threatened his house elf with murder if he even thinks of restocking it. While abroad he realized how his drinking habits became more and more ridiculous, so he decided it was time to slow down. There were still some hidden bottles of gin somewhere around the house, but for now he won't attempt to find them.

But Senior Undersecretary...He still wasn't sure if he liked the sound of that. Also, he still wasn't sure if it was a promotion or a punishment. For now, he was just glad he inherited a really beautiful office. Rosier could not function properly if his surroundings weren't aesthetically pleasing. "Can't really tell you how I pulled it off, but thank you. I think Zephyr just missed my handsome face - I think you all did." His handsome face currently resembled a lobster, but he offered a quick grin to his colleague.

As he opened the door of his study, they stepped into the usual Rosier-esque mess - a swimming pool or papers, parchments and random things. It was the only room in the house where Puck the house elf wasn't allowed to tidy without permission. The way Rosier worked usually included tossing documents over his shoulder when he was done. But before they start with business they needed tea as the flowery teapot on the desk was empty. "Puck! TEA!" he yelled unexpectedly in the direction of a wall. "I swear that elf just keeps getting more and more impossible...PUCK!" He sighed and looked at Trevelyan, offering him a chair. It was a little difficult to walk through the mess on the floor but Rosier sort of perfected this very underrated form of art.

"So, what did I miss? I have to admit it's nice to be home, too much of North Africa can't be good for an old man like me."

For a split second, Jonas's smile went slack.  Cameron Rosier, offering him a drink?  Worse yet:  Cameron Rosier, implying that his liquor cabinet wasn't fully stocked?  Horrible images flashed through his head: the former Head of Magical Law Enforcement, now trapped under some diabolic Imperius spell.  Was that why his former employer had vanished for months?

Doing his best to keep his suspicions from showing, he flashed Rosier a grin in return.  The other wizard wasn't going to be able to get away with making fun of Jonas's hair when his own face was making a go of emulating a strawberry in coloration.  But even that was slightly suspicious.  Rosier hadn't taken a dig at him yet, and they'd been in each other's company for at least twenty seconds.  Could he be under the Imperius Curse?

Jonas followed behind, fingers inching closer to his wand -- but then Rosier opened the door to the study, and the red-headed Auror relaxed.  Not even the most gifted of criminal minds could emulate the mess that was Rosier's workspace.  And now the spastic yelling -- Jonas winced, only glad that Rosier was shouting for his house elf this time.  That was how he remembered the Auror Office under the former Head's rule.

"What did you miss?"  He arched his eyebrows, pressing his mouth shut.  Rosier was the new Senior Undersecretary, but Jonas wasn't sure what that meant in terms of security clearance.  Besides, recapping everything that had happened in the past two months was not something he wanted to think about at the moment.  Instead, he gave a shrug.

"Brown took over as Department Head.  Reckon you heard that, though," he added, nodding to the man that the Senior Auror had replaced.  "She hasn't had much more of a hand in things so far, as far as I can see; I just go to Tam for clearance, like always."  That had been a bit of a battle when Rosier had come in.  The Head Auror and her immediate supervisor had never gotten along; though Jonas had clearly felt protective of Tamis at first, Cameron Rosier had grown on him, and by the end, he'd appreciated both of them for their own talents.

"North Africa, though?"  He frowned at the older wizard, giving him a quizzical look.  What was in North Africa?  As far as he knew, Rosier had never even acknowledged the continent's existence before; Jonas would have been surprised to find out that the other man had ever even left London.  The Rosiers were British, through and through.  "What brought you there, then?  Bit of a long trek to take on a whim, innit?"

Trevelyan told him what he basically already knew, but he was only half-listening. He was getting more and more annoyed with his elf. It seemed like Rosier wasn't the only one who enjoyed a month of freedom - it was evident that his mentally challenged nephew Rascal spoiled his house elf. Not only was the furniture in his house completely rearranged to form various forts, but it seemed someone raided his wardrobe as well, played darts with the silverware and attempted to magically convert the bathtub into an Olympic-sized pool.

Just when Rosier took out his wand and was about to summon the poor creature, the study door opened with a creak. "Where were you, you puny creature?" he barked at the tiny elf who entered the room. "Bring some tea and snacks for  Auror Trevelyan quickly or I'll have you thrown into the Thames, so help me god!" The elf hurried to take the gilded teapot, clumsily taking a bow in Trevelyan's direction. "Yes Master!" squeaked the elf with apparent enthusiasm. "Puck was only ironing Masters best trousers, the ones he loves so much, Sir!" With that and a couple of happy skips around the room, the elf was gone.

Rosier's face was even redder now. "Yes, North Africa!" he said loudly, trying to continue their conversation as if the elf never interrupted it. "Morocco to be more specific." He sat into his armchair and thought about how to start his tale. How would he even explain this to Trevelyan - the prison he was put in, the aggravating trek from Tangier to Marrakesh, the fall from the magic carpet...it was too much. It would be difficult to explain how his journey started because he found it hard to remember that detail himself. "It was no vacation, I can tell you that. Even though I sort of hoped it would be..." he paused for a moment, considering what would be appropriate to say. "I keep asking myself if all this was worth it and my answer is always 'yes'...I think we might be close to solving the Corpus Inversus case."

People might call Rosier insane, tell him that he isn't an Auror or an investigator, but he got personally attached to this case and he was unable to let go. He doubted they would get this far without his intervention. Maybe it cost him his position in the Ministry, but at least he did something positive...he always tried to do things this way. He put duty first - before his family, his parents and even his personal life. He liked to think he did all these crazy things because no one else in their right mind would.

There was something a bit unsettling about continuing a conversation with a man who had just been shouting "PUCK!" at the top of his lungs.  Not to mention the brightly-colored boxers -- as much as Jonas was trying to convince himself that They Weren't There and that he Didn't Need to Look, they kept creeping back into his field of vision.  The fact that poor, maligned Puck was ironing the former Department Head's trousers didn't help, either.  Was that where Rosier's bottoms had gone?  Didn't the wizard own another pair?

The house elf spent a moment enthusiastically skipping around the room like it was an overexcited chihuahua, and then Rosier dropped to sit in the armchair, unwittingly giving Jonas a full view of his boxers once again.  The Auror, doing his best not to groan, laid claim to his own chair, paying far more attention to what he wasn't looking at then the words that were actually leaving the other man's mouth.

That was, until Rosier finished.

"...I think we might be close to solving the Corpus Inversus case."

It took a second for Jonas to process what he had just said.

"Wait, what?"  He blinked at Rosier, uncertainty clear on his face.  Had the man completely lost his mind?  Maybe his involvement with the Corpus Inversus murder case -- which had resulted in a duel inside a mysterious dress shop that wasn't, and a dead body that Rosier had discovered upstairs -- had finally pushed him over the edge.  The mildly nagging guilt that Jonas had been feeling was threatening to establish more of a presence.

"What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"  He frowned at Rosier, alarmedly trying to discern if the other man needed a straightjacket or if a mere stunning spell would suffice.  "Cameron, you didn't steal the case file off me desk again, did you?  That might've been alright when you were on Level Two, but I can't reckon that the Minister abides for that sort of thing."

It seemed like he finally managed to get the Auror's attention. Rosier couldn't quite figure out what was wrong with Trevelyan today (or in general, besides his hair colour), but he seemed distracted. Now it finally looked like he was listening one hundred percent. Of course, this reaction was sort of what he expected. Trevelyan had a knack for screaming at Rosier in disbelief every time he attempted to tell him something interesting. Sighing, he rolled his eyes and looked around his messy desk for the cigarette case. After a few seconds of nervous digging through piles of parchments, he finally found it.

"I didn't steal a damned thing, Jonas!" He attempted to mimic the Auror's tone of voice, but that was a bit unsuccessful with a cigarette in his mouth. Trevelyan always insisted that Rosier stole things from his boring desk. Yes, it maybe happened once or twice, but it wasn't something he regularly did! Besides, now his own Corpus Inversus case file was much more comprehensive than any other from the Auror office. Also, what did the Auror mean by the 'Minister not abiding for that sort of thing'? He was the Senior Undersecretary now - he could do whatever he wanted!

But he wanted to stay on topic, not argue with the stubborn ginger like he did most of the time. "Two months ago a corpse was found in Tangier, it washed up on shore. Nothing unusual, right? It is after all a dangerous city...Well wrong, the corpse was of course turned inside-out. That information of course never reached our Ministry, because even the locals kept it on a need-to-know basis. But how did I find out?" This is where he paused a bit. The reason why he woke up in Tangier one beautiful day was a bit more complex than that, but he decided to skip this part for now. "I was having a brilliant time in Tangier actually, up until the point when someone stole my wand. If I were sober at the time I would have realized that was no ordinary, petty theft, but alas..." Trevelyan knew him well enough by now, he knew what he was like when good liquor was on offer.

"So, the quest for information turned into a quest for my wand. It was a bit too late when I realized I've been set up...They knew what I was after so they lured me into a trap by stealing my wand. They intended to question me, but I escaped." He sighed for a bit and then added, "It was my fault though, I was reckless as always and I didn't know the culture...It took some time to figure out Morocco, that's for sure." It was a bit frightening that this was only the beginning of his story.

Of course Rosier hadn't stolen the file.  For all Jonas knew, the older man had his own copy of it by now -- had probably spent hours using Facsimilius Pollax on it before he'd run off, although 'file' might be too generous an assumption, considering that Rosier's idea of organization seemed to be letting paperwork run free within the whirling abyss that was his office.  But just because the other wizard swore that he hadn't didn't make Jonas feel any more secure.  Silently, he resolved to begin taking his important files home with him again, if only to ease his sense of paranoia.

Rosier's story was one for the ages.  If Jonas had been intending to mostly not pay attention, his intentions were quickly put to rest: he found himself hanging on the other man's every word, his jaw dropped incredulously.  A dead body in Tangier -- yes, that was possible, although not every turned-inside-out corpse necessarily had to do with their investigation back in London.  He'd have to talk to Cohen about that; the mage was the closest thing they had to a consultant when it came to illegal foreign magic.  But someone had stolen Rosier's wand -- lured him into a trap -- and then --

"Ah.  I see," he said, even though he didn't.  It was a bit disconcerting to realize that he was speaking more slowly, like he did with Artie when he was trying to explain something very complicated.  This wasn't even that complicated, but somehow he still found himself hoping that it would help. "And now we're much closer to solving the Corpus Inversus murder investigation, obviously.  Because...?"

He left the question hanging in the air.  Surely, Rosier could not bear to leave it unanswered.

"Are you even listening to me?" Rosier interrupted him loudly. Trevelyan and his questions! He obviously wanted to make Rosier look more insane than he probably was and it was frustrating. He dreaded sharing this story with anyone because it was too complicated and because it sounded like a crazy excuse for him leaving England. But he had to tell the Aurors otherwise all his efforts were for nothing. Taking a deep breath, he continued.

"I managed to escape only because everything has a price in Morocco. I gave all the money I had on me to one of the wizards who captured me and he then planned my escape. However, someone saw us and sent guards after us...By that time I had my wand back so we managed to save ourselves. The man who helped me couldn't go back now because he betrayed his lot so he stayed with me while we flew through the desert. He kept on asking me for more gold, insisting I would love to hear what he knew - he said he knew what I was looking for. So he stayed with me until we reached the Wizarding bank in Marrakesh." Rosier tried to think of the simplest way to tell his story. So many things happened in between of course, but now they were irrelevant. He sighed and continued.

"This is where things turned really bad though. When I reached the bank, I found out I was unable to withdraw as much gold as I anticipated. I couldn't figure out why, but later I found out it was my nephew's doing. So I was in Marrakesh with no funds. One option was to turn away and go home and accept the fact that all this was in vain. The other option was to give the little money I had to the man who followed me from Tangier and get the information I now believed he had. I chose option number two of course..." Rosier realized how insane all this sounded, but he didn't care at this point. He was always stubborn and always did things in his own way.

"The man directed me to a local antique shop which was located in the muggle tourist area. Also, when he took my gold, he was gone. And I thought I finally managed to make a friend!" He was of course joking.

"What I discovered in the shop is the key, Trevelyan! Our mask, remember? They sell the same ones, I swear...they have the same ones..." He couldn't prove it of course because he never managed to acquire one. "For the first time in my life I was penniless - what a horrid feeling! - and what else could I do than attempt to steal a mask..." In hindsight, it was a really stupid idea, but after weeks of drinking and trekking though the desert, Rosier couldn't have known any better.

"Of course, this resulted with me ending up in a muggle prison..."

The longer this story went on, the more bewildered Jonas felt.  Cameron Rosier had apparently decided to take his gap year abroad far later in life than most tended to, and trying to follow his story as it wandered in and out of adventures was like watching an Indiana Jones movie that had gone wrong.  The Auror found himself suddenly wishing that poor, maligned Puck would return with the tea, if only to give him an excuse to do something other than have a conversation.

"Well, glad it was only a Muggle one that time around," he said, his forehead creasing.  What the hell was Rosier talking about?  The mask being referenced was presumably the one that had disappeared from Lazarus Rippringham-Gomfrey's collection shortly before he'd been murdered.  But that mask had clearly been goblin-made -- that had been why the creatures had sent two Cursebreakers after it.  The idea that there could be more sitting in a souvenir shop somewhere in Marrakesh seemed almost anathema.

"You're sure it's the same mask?" he pressed with a frown.  Rosier knew the case file as well as any of them -- largely because he'd spent the most time with it, due to his habit of regularly "borrowing" it from Jonas's desk -- but that still didn't mean that his identification was certain.  The goblins didn't mass produce things, and they certainly had no part in manufacturing souvenirs to sell to Muggles, at least not unless they could get away with charging even more enormously exorbitant prices than usual.

"I mean, you reckon you're certain?  It's not just one that looks similar?"  Inwardly, he groaned.  Explaining to Brown -- or worse, to Tamis -- why he had to requisition an Auror to send to Morocco on a wild goose chase was not how he wanted to begin his day tomorrow.  "You reckon you can find this shop again, even without your mate the guide?"

"You're not understanding me, it was our mask. There is no way I'm wrong, why do you think I attempted to steal it." He was tired of this, but he knew Trevelyan will be skeptical and ask questions. Rosier decided to try and be patient with his colleague. "It was located in the muggle area, but this was no muggle shop, Trevelyan. Marrakesh is a labyrinth - it's not exactly like a walk through Diagon Alley. The city is a clash of the wizarding and muggle worlds, people are everywhere and even I felt somewhat insignificant there."

Rosier was secretly grateful when Puck the house elf interrupted them for the second time today. The creature carried a gigantic golden tray with a teapot and a new assortment of delicious tiny cakes. "What took you so long?" Rosier snapped at his servant, as per usual. The elf still seemed very cheerful though and left the tray on the desk between them, grinning for some reason. "Puck was arranging the cakes, Master. Puck knows Master likes them to be arranged in a heart shape Sir, even if Master's guest is the ginger and not Dolly." And with that, the elf was gone.

Rolling his eyes, Rosier poured the tea for his colleague and himself. "That bloody elf," he mumbled incoherently before deciding to get back on topic. "Yes, I can find the shop," he said. At least he thought he could find it, he was convinced he got to know the city pretty well, but still he felt like a tourist. "I hope you do believe me though, I know it all sounds a bit insane, but..." he shrugged, not knowing what to say again. It seemed like things like this only happened to him. "I'll need to talk to Raynor tomorrow as well."

Forever and ever, he was doomed to be known by his hair color.  Jonas sighed, but he accepted the cup of tea nevertheless. 

It was a bit bewildering to have to take Rosier at his word.  Jonas had never been to Marrakesh -- but come to think of it, he wasn't certain that there was anyone in the Auror Corps who had.  They were a decidedly British lot, and while France, America, and Israel might be represented within their ranks, there wasn't really anyone who possessed much experience outside of that.  If they were going to travel to Morocco to trace Rosier's steps through his adventure, then the former Department Head was likely going to have to come with them.

"Reckon she'll be thrilled to hear from you," he informed the other wizard with a straight face.  "She's been having a solid run of visitors lately; I reckon she loves it."  That might have been a slight exaggeration on the truth, but to the best of his knowledge, Rosier and Raynor had ended on alright terms with each other.  At the very least, Tamis had stopped not-making a face whenever department meetings came up, and Rosier had stopped accusing every Auror of coming into his office of spying for the Head Auror.

He sighed, dragged a hand over his face, and then tiredly looked to Rosier.  "Well, talk to her, and we'll see what resources she can give us," he said resignedly.  "Things are a bit busy in the office, but I reckon we can scrounge up some sort of team.  We've hit enough of a wall otherwise with this case; I'd hate to think we're leaving any stone unturned."  Even if it was extremely sunburned and of an occasionally questionable mental state.  At least it appeared that Rosier had escaped from his adventure with a new pair of slippers.

He couldn't even imagine talking to Raynor about all this and explaining why they need to assemble a team for Marrakesh. Also he had new duties in the Ministry now, so he couldn't just wander off on a mission as he pleased. He somehow doubted Zephyr would approve...But he said nothing about it, they will deal with it when the time comes. Maybe a weekend abroad will be enough for this, even though he somehow dreaded to return back there. "She'll be glad to see me, yes," he said with a smirk. He was obviously sarcastic, even though his relationship with Raynor wasn't as bad as in the past. At least now they tolerated each other - and Rosier wanted to keep it that way. Their rivalry benefited no one, especially the Ministry.

Rosier was glad Trevelyan didn't seem so skeptical about the whole thing anymore. He expected the Auror to fight and resist more, but it seemed like he was too shocked to be bothered right now. It was clear that they haven't made any progress on the case while he was away and he was secretly glad about it. "You reckon Brown will be a problem? What is she like? I bet she loathes me...the way I left my office..." Trevelyan probably knew how he treated his office; it was a horrendous mess, simple as that. He started feeling guilty again - his office wasn't the only thing he left behind and now after talking to Trevelyan he realized he will have some explaining to do to many people in his life.

Jonas shrugged, flashing the other man a lopsided grin.  "We got good enough at finding creative solutions when you were in the office," he pointed out nicely.  "There are always ways, if we need to find 'em.

"Besides," he added, after taking a sip of tea, "you remember Brown, don't you?  She was a Senior Auror -- reckon she'd been one for years."  Although she probably hadn't made the same impactful impression that some of the other Aurors had during Rosier's time in the office.  She certainly hadn't dramatically quit her job on Rosier's first day, or conspired to take down a murderous werewolf behind the Ministry's back, or any other of a half dozen things that made him, Pratt, and Radley sound like they were much more of a thorn in his side than they really had a right to be.  Perhaps it wasn't unreasonable to think that Brown had managed to blend into the background after all.

"Anyway, I reckon if a trip there is really necessary, we can find a way to make it work."  Despite how insane this all sounded, Jonas had to admit he was slightly curious.  He hadn't seen anything to suggest a link to Morocco so far, but there was always a chance -- and as unstable as Rosier sometimes seemed, his hunches had played off well so far.  He'd been right about O Morain; right about the dress shop in Knockturn, which was still frustratingly unresolved.  He smiled crookedly. "Maybe you could offer to clean up the office for Brown, if she'll get you authorization."

Trevelyan was right - the Aurors were a stubborn lot and always difficult to control - one of the things Rosier was glad he won't have to deal with any longer. However, he had a sneaking suspicion his new duty involved a spectrum of new, surprising and unpleasant responsibilities. He wasn't personally acquainted with Brown, but he had some ideas about what sort of witch she was. "Brown is Zephyr's minion, she'll do what we say as long as it comes in a purple envelope with the seal from Level One." It was strange to think he no longer belonged to Level Two, after so many years. He thought leading the Law Enforcement will be the final step in his career, but he was wrong. Still, he was unsure if he thought of this 'promotion' to be a positive or a negative thing.

He wanted this to work out though, otherwise he would feel like everything he went through in the past month was in vain. He'll start thinking about this tomorrow though, after he sees Raynor and a couple of other people, preferably Cohen as well. Trevelyan's joke was as bad as always - Rosier, clean up something and for someone else? Ha! He was a wizard who didn't know how to make his own bed. "Don't make me laugh, Trevelyan," he said, taking one of the girliest-looking tiny cakes on the tray. "I'd rather walk around in my underwear than offer to clean up the office...oh wait..." he laughed out loud, as if just realizing he was wearing one of his most colorful pairs of boxers.