5 March 2010
Friday, 11:15 am

Madam Harker was sending her down one of her experts.  A wizard called Johann Storm.  A linguist.  Her own career having been far removed from study and lofty academics, she wasn't exactly sure how to utilize him, but if Gabrielle Harker recommended him, he must be of great value.

As ever, she was busy up until the moment he was to arrive.  She stood behind her desk clad in a vibrant purple.  Her pointed witches had was hung up behind her, her short black locks framing her spectacled face.  She was looking over documents.  From Gringotts. In Gobbledegook.  Over the last six months, the Ministry of Magic had been negotiating, delaying, avoiding, and attempting to deflect the claim Gringotts claimed over the Goblet of Fire.  They were clever, those goblins and had recently counter-attacked with a pile of documents in their incomprehensible native tongue.

Claiming a provision from the Department for the Regulation & Control of Magical Creatures, they were permitted to submit original documents in whatever language they chose.  To ease communication, the provision was rarely used.  Unless of course the goal was to block communication.

And so, the expert.

Gobbledegook was a language he rarely mentioned, owing to the fact he was learning it. The rough, unmelodious tongue was only a tad reminiscent of his studies of Russian which he did not find as pleasing to speak as the European languages.

It wasn't the most romantic sounding by a long shot, and it had been quite a bit of study to get anywhere with it, which had both frustrated him, and also intrigued. Gabrielle had strongly advised him picking it up.

Thankfully he realised he recognised the odd bit from childhood. Goblins spoke a language of finance and fortune, so it had been a language his own parents had been mildly proficient in, even if he insisted the goblins he met in that industry to speak the local human tongue as second class citizens.

Unfortunately it had not been one they had taught him as a child, opting for English, French and the language of Durmstrang instead. Four languages before he had been twenty had been quite enough, but his natural aptitude for learning languages made him greedy. It had all been easier to pick up as a child too.

Pattering along the plush carpets on level 1 he felt mightily important, being summoned to the Minister's office, but also a little nervous. Gabrielle was relying on him not to be an arse, and in important situations his arrogance over knowing a language someone else didn't could get rather out of hand. As family, and his boss, Murray could clip him round the ear later, but the Minister would sack him.

Holmes was there to guide him in, and he realised he was holding his breath as he entered the Minister's grand office. There she was - not that he had not seen her many times before about the Ministry, or plastered to the front page of the papers, but this was the first time he'd had an audience with her in any capacity. Despite the high difference, she was rather imposing, if only for her role and reputation.

"Madam Minister." He addressed as politely as he could, lowering his head respectfully. It was Friday, and he could almost smell the weekend overtime from what he could spy of her desk. Well, perhaps he could still make it to celebrate Layla's birthday tomorrow if he was careful.

"Madam Murray informed me you require our assistance with some goblin communications. How may I be of assistance?"

The wizard arrived and in that first moment, the Minister only glanced up.  She was mid-signature on a budget levy request from Transportation, and so looked down again to finish her flourished personal mark and add on the proper security runes to seal the signature.  Just a few moments more, not too long to be too impolite, she dropped the quill into its holder and looked up with a posture of relief.

She sighed and smiled.  "Mr. Storm.  Thank you for coming.  Come right up here, come come."  She gestured for him to approach her desk with all haste, and soon as he was close enough she held out her hand to shake his.  Her grip was firm but the grasp was brief.  She needed to get right down to business.

"Harker recommends you highly - but no cause to be worried about that dooming evaluation.  I'm sure you're just what I need.  How's your Gobbledegook?"

The pile of documents from Gringotts were on the desk between them.  They were longer than regular leafs of paper, and wider and thicker.  Apparently margins were a sign of weakness in Goblin culture and so the text ran right up to the very threshold.  The scribbling letters were tightly kerned and the line height was claustrophobic.  And it was entirely incomprehensible to anyone on Level One.  She glanced down at it again, thumbed the corner of the stack like a fan and looked up at Mr. Storm with an annoyed look.

Blast those needleteeth.

"Hopefully more than adequate for your purpose, Minister." He answered honestly, although tempted to drop hopefully. The corners of his mouth turned up with good humour over her comment about the evaluation.

His gaze dropped momentarily between the desktop and her face, cautious as to what he was permitted to see. One saw many classified documents in his role, but practised averting the eyes by default - especially with the Minister.

However, without much further word, he watched her actions and realised it was invitation enough that he should inspect the documents. They were clearly a cause of irritation.

"May I?" He asked, fingertips hovering above the heavier parchment which was thick with the content.

For half a minute, he stood in silence, eyes running steadily over the work. He couldn't read it as swiftly as other languages, owing to his slimmer experience, and as such he took a little more time over matters.

Once he had gleaned a little of things, he glanced to the rest of the pile, a frown on his face that somewhat mirrored Zephyr's annoyance.

"Paper clearly a premium for the goblins, ma'am." He remarked, eyes busily examining the appearance of other pieces.

"Would you like this fully transcribed in English? I can outline the contents and deliver that ahead of the full text." He lifted his eyes from the page to examine the Minister's reaction, the tip of his tongue grazing the edge of his lips with slight apprehension.

Had he under-estimated the urgency of this request? Was she to press him to read it at speed and summarise in her presence?

"Is there any particular context that I should be aware of, ma'am?" He asked tentatively, not sure if he was permitted to know.

Persepolis was usually quite skilled at hiding impatience and softening her high standards and strong demands, but even a short time in office was beginning to dull that skill.  There was just so much work to do and she was finding that it was no real help to coddle those who worked under and alongside her for the benefit of their great nation.

And so she made no hesitation in steering her consultant towards the work she needed done.  "A translation yes, obviously.  Then my staff can make heads or tails and do the rest.  I wouldn't insult you by presuming you'd do this any more slowly than your colleagues, but I don't really have time to wait."

He'd done a good thing to inquire about context because she had it at the ready.  "You've heard about Gringott's demands to have back the Goblet of Fire?"

If he worked for Harker, he might have had some involvement with the TetraWizard Tournament's international affairs.  And thus may have got wind of the goblins' latest ploy to be an absolute bother.

"Well, this is their latest, I assume.  It came via the Department of Regulation & Control of Magical Creatures, but they seemed to think it had something to do with us and passed it up.  I can only imagine Gringotts sent it through Regulation because of the Native Language Policy they have down there.  And so here we are.  Either we translate it and find out what their next move is or we return it claiming insufficient postage."

She looked at the younger wizard with a tired look.  Clearly, Minister Zephyr had very little regard for Gringotts and certainly the way these negotiations were playing out.  She needed Storm to lubricate things and make her life a bit smoother, if he could.

"I don't want to waste Harker's resources on nonsense.  If you can give us an idea now what this is, we could safe ourselves a headache."

She paused.  "Would you like a chair?"

"I wouldn't insult you by presuming you'd do this any more slowly than your colleagues, but I don't really have time to wait."

"Quite the contrary, far faster than them, Ma'am." Johann replied, unable to help himself and his recognisable grin broke out across his features. It fell away as he listened intently to the Minister explain the route the document had taken through the Departments.

"I don't want to waste Harker's resources on nonsense.  If you can give us an idea now what this is, we could safe ourselves a headache. Would you like a chair?"

Lost in thought for a moment, eyes returning to the page, he jumped very slightly at the offer.
"Yes, thank you." His backside found its way to a nearby chair at the desk, but not before he reached over and scooped up the rest of the paperwork from her desk, depositing it on his lap.

For a good minute there was silence apart from Johann flicking through pages, occasionally he would open his mouth to try and vocalise a word in the strange tongue, before he looked up and realised that reading it to himself was not at all helpful.

"There's a great deal of history and explanation of Goblin crafting in here, Ma'am, they explain how significant their work is and how they stake claim to all that they have made…" he gave a little sigh, "nothing new there."

Johann turned over a few pages at a time, irritated at the dense text not enabling him to shine before the leader of the British magical government at that moment,
"But from what I can tell, they demand a declaration of all goblin items held by the Ministry, as they do not rightly own them. Unless I am most mistaken they cite not only the creator having ownership rights as per their culture, but also that the purchasers being deceased." He scratched at his hair, the papers spilling from his lap as his hand lifted, "they do not recognise the Ministry as an individual rightful of ownership."

He leant over to collect the parchments by hand, and leafed through a few more.
"This is more than just the Goblet Ma'am, from what I can tell, the Goblins have decided if they are in for a knut, they are in for the galleon."

Zephyr sat down behind her desk and allowed herself a few moments rest as the Linguist poured over the dense, inscrutable documents.  She couldn't rest her mind, however, and she sighed with vexation.  The goblins were proving to be more of a problem than she'd ever anticipated.  How had Shacklebolt and Annwyl done it?

Soon enough, Storm was forthright about what he was reading.  Zephyr sat up to pay close attention, but her brows furrowed as he got into.  She waved a hand away as if to dismiss all of this as nothing new.  For certainly, the goblins made these claims often, but rarely had a leg to stand on.  Rule of law was clear no matter what they claimed.

"They have no proof the Goblet is goblin-wrought.  We've even done a cursory inspection ourselves[1] and found nothing to indicate it has anything to do with them."

Not that Storm needed to know, but Persepolis felt it relevant to shed some context to what he was reading.  "As you're aware, this isn't the first time we've heard something like this.  They're forever claiming rights to a full thousand objects.  Although the idea that the Ministry can't own something - that's a new twist."

From a goblin's perspective, she had to admit it made sense.  But from a witch's perspective it really didn't matter.

"Anything else, Mr. Storm? Anything in the way of an Or Else clause?"

1.

Jan 21

"Ah." The linguist punctuated the air as he continued to read, and then piled a good number of pages onto the Minister's desk with out thought.

"You see here?" He asked, forgetting in his surprise to read it, that the Minister wouldn't have much of a clue of what was on the page. He was on his feet, round to her side of the desk in a flash.

"Well, when they said they were staking their claim on all items, they really did mean all of them." He was underlining a numbered point with one of his long fingers.

"Ma'am, our currency is minted in one location - as are currencies for a number of magical communities around the world in other banks too, but the point is, coins are created by goblins. Which their claim extends to. That every coin held by every magical citizen of these islands, belongs to the goblins, and they want them back."

Lifting his other hand to his dark curls he ruffled them in thought,
"The goblins wish to withdraw the country's means of currency entirely by demanding it back." His finger trailed down the page on the Minister's desk.

"As each of them is numbered and labelled with the goblin that cast it, they claim they'll be able to account for each and every one and recall them - by magical means if necessary." He slid his hand into his own pocket and withdrew a sickle, inspecting it to confirm to his own mind that there was indeed a serial number of each that belonged to the goblin that cast the coin, and the coin itself.

"To do that would invalidate the country's currency, and they don't appear to outline any compensation or exchange. It would reduce us to barter until we could replace the currency and found our own banking. Merlin, they can't do that to us can they? Britain's not the only country with goblins at the core of its finances, this could impact many other countries." If Gringotts were like the Muggle's Royal Mint, it would impact other countries instantly - as it made money for several other countries in the Muggle world.

This threat had been ever in the shadowy wings of the political stage.   A move that no one dared utter lest it shatter the long-standing, peaceful coexistence of goblins and humans.  A peace that was always contentious, surely, but the age-old agreement benefited both societies.  It had always been enough. 

But those days seemed to be teetering on their end. She'd absently took the galleon from Storm's hand as he turned it over by way of demonstration.  She set its edge on the desk for a few long moments in thought.  Storm might wonder if she'd heard what he said, her eyes glazed towards the documents but not seeing them.

A thousand thoughts ran through her head.  She had thoughts of anger at the audacity of the goblins, who existed only by her people's mercy.[1]  There was also shame and fear for her reputation.  Selfish thoughts, but all the same, would she be the Minister standing on top of a toppled government?  But the most dominating thoughts were of what to do.  The document will have to be acknowledged, of course.  She'd need Gabrielle Harker immediately, the Head of Mysteries, the senior Wizengamot.  Beings Division.

But above all else, this required absolute secrecy.  And that's when she looked up at the young linguist.  Was this a task for her most trusted Obliviator?[2] No. Not as of yet. 

"Mr. Storm, I trust you know the full breadth and width of the meaning of secrecy?" She stood from her chair next to him quietly without threat, but with full dignity of her office.  She took off her small glasses and folded them up, looking up at him.

"And that you must be educated and clever enough to understand the calamity that would follow the public finding out that their economy was about to collapse? The gold go flying from their fingers?  To let leak even a breath of this would cause needless suffering."

1.	Likely a commonly held, but not entirely true, belief.  History, as they say, is written by the victors.
2.	Mihai Zamperia, of course, the wizard who Perspeolis used far too frequently for quiet obliviations...

The Minister took the coin from his fingers and shared in a moment of confirmation before setting it poised on edge upon the fine desktop beneath her hands.

Johann fell silent a moment, realising that he might have spoken beyond his station - he was, as Gabrielle would have to remind him at irregular intervals just a linguist and although it was appreciated he was a good one, with a sharp eye, he had to leave matters to other professionals in the Ministry.

He lifted his hand from the page, and retreated half a pace back with his long feet on her plush carpet. Had she seen this coming? Was it new or had she foreseen it? Had she consulted seers? Johann didn't trust those in society who had second sight, as who could be absolutely sure they were telling the truth and not manipulating others?

As she stood and addressed him, he took two more paces back away from her desk so they were not so close. All the better to observe her wider body language for more clues.

"Ma'am." He addressed, nodding that he understood the secrecy. He kept fantastic secrecy for his private clients, and respected Ministry secrecy too (though the private clients paid particularly well to keep his mouth shut).

"Of course Ma'am. Panic, market value of the galleon crashing, statewide loss of confidence in you as Minister…" He had spoken too far but didn't realise it. His mind was already two steps ahead considering how they would manage if the monetary system collapsed. Bartering, physical objects, solid gold, even Muggle money could be considered, but it would be those with objects who came out better - those with vaults full of coins would be penniless. The Ministry had better to move their coffers or invest the monies quickly.

"With luck we can appease them before anything like that were to even be possible, Minister." Johann hastily assured her. "I will set upon the document immediately." He reached for the parchment page on her desk.

"A full translation, and it won't even have to leave your room if you do not wish it." His mind was going ten to the dozen - this was perhaps his most significant assignment at the Ministry since his employment, and through the thrill of things, he did not want to make a mistake. This was a matter of national importance!

"Ma'am, might I float one theory that has come to mind this moment?" He asked tentatively, though ploughed ahead. "What if the move by the goblins is not just purely their motivation? Would they be in cahoots with someone wishing to pose at threat to the country?"

Persepolis's eyes narrowed.  Had Harker sent an undercover Treasury officer now? The linguist was stepping too far.  His continued speaking did not inspire much confidence in his ability to keep quiet.  Her pursed lips showed an annoyance she rarely displayed. 

He moved to take the documents, but she laid her hand upon them to stop his progress.  Her nostrils flared as she drew breath, considering carefully how to deal with him.  Perhaps Mr. Storm had made his family very happy at achieving such a secure and valuable station in the Ministry, and perhaps today was very special for him indeed to have had a personal meeting with the Minister of Magic.  But whatever the source of his eagerness and bubbling over of his opinion, it really wasn't what was required at this time. 

"No."

No to most of it. No to continuing to speak. No to floating any more theories.  No to taking any more action upon himself until directly asked to do so.  Cahoots? Honestly.

"You've been most helpful," she began, fluttering that old silver smile.  She extended an arm to lead him out from behind her desk and towards a door that he might not have noticed before.  She opened it to reveal a small, cozy sitting room. 

"Please. Wait here.  I'll send Maurice for some luncheon."

Despite his promises to do nothing and say nothing, she felt nervous letting him loose upon the weekend.  Nothing was as yet secure.  Here was a linguist with this delicate information just swimming about in his head ripe for the picking, whether he wanted to or not.  The documents were just sitting on her desk like a crossword puzzle.  There was a little more yet to do.

She'd need Harker first.  Beings Division had no dealing with the Bank or any clearance at this level of catastrophe.  And she wouldn't need Mysteries until later.  But International Cooperation she had imminent need of, and a witch she trusted more than any other.

"Mr. Holmes," she called.  "Get this lad some lunch and send for Madam Harker?"

The Minister fluttered another smile to the young man.

Ushered into a side room Johann turned his back a moment on the Minister and made a face to himself for being an idiot - he was always doing this. He couldn't help showing off. Even in front of the bloody Minister.

"Thank you Ma'am," he acknowledged quietly.

Physically kicking himself was going to look rather strange so he turned back, eyes flitting around the cozy sitting room as he obliged.

His fingers itched to retrieve the document, to get to work on translating straight away, but he'd been sidelined. He didn't much feel like eating lunch, either. Hopefully this just meant that he needed to shut up and be quiet while the 'grown-ups' got up to speed. Especially her use of lad. He was thirty-four!

An unsure pit was forming in his stomach. Where did this lead him? The Minister had already impressed how important the secrecy was. Had she already made the snap decision he could not be trusted?

His neck felt clammy as his quick mind had begun to calculate all sorts of paths that Zephyr might take to keep things permanently confidential. Was this a special kind of lunch… laced with poison….? The stray thought set a flurry of panic through him and he hastily pushed all thoughts aside regarding that he could be 'sent away' and just vanish if the Minister wanted him to.

Still, the information - if the Goblins were utterly serious about it, if the wizarding world really did have no control (this seemed preposterous to Johann, to let goblins have so much control) then what he knew was very important to everyone he worked with in a private capacity. They would have to invest their goblin money quickly, but it would be equally doubtful they'd believe him.

He wondered if the Goblins were just doing this to Britain but whether their overseas cousins were united in this stand. It seemed unlikely, the original gripe from what he could understand was the Triwizard Tournament cup, which the British Ministry had.

So Johann perched in the side chamber, looking a little stiff as he sat so upright, not wanting to disturb the cushions. He'd undoubtedly find out his fate once Gabrielle arrived. She'd probably be rather displeased… yet again.

Maurice, who had been hearing the discussion with a curious ear and steel tied lips, pushed out from his desk, the wood creaking briefly against the floor as it did. His fingers removed the spectacles on his face, placing them on top of the various letters that had been coming into their department. "Lunch, yes. I'll attend to it. For four, I take it?" he assumed on knowledge base whilst raising his wand, aiming it to his desk once again. A mauve piece of paper rose and with it, a gold quill that awaited his command.

"Miss Murray, you are hereby requested immediately to our department. A matter most urgent requires your attention, madame. Punctuality is encouraged and lunch is to be provided. Please do not be late. Sincerely, Maurice Holmes, Aide to the Minister"

The paper folded itself up post signing his name with a flourish, zooming away to International Cooperation. Looking at Johann as his own feet passed by the room, he smiled knowingly as though Maurice knew how this was going to go down.

---

Vermillion, teal, auburn, emerald, hazelnut, and violet were only five of many coloured notes circulating through the IMC, but it was that mauve one that caught Gabrielle's attention after grinning at the navy one that had come from Mysteries, inquiring about a weekend holiday excursion away from London. The grin faded upon reading the content; a sigh escaped. Folding the navy letter and pushing it into her pocket, Gabrielle headed off to the lift, mumbling to an aide to 'hold the fort down' until she returned.

What had happened this time? Her mind traced over possibilities, landing to Johann's departure there earlier. Surely...her cousin hadn't caused offence, had he? The lift dinged and she stepped out, walking down the gilded hallway before arriving in the Minister's Office. "Glad to see you, Miss Murray. Please, follow me. The Minister will see you both again shortly," Maurice chippered away, putting her with Johann, then left.

"...what happened."

Holmes brought forth Gabrielle in quick time, which Johann was thankful for. The longer he was alone or in the vicinity of the Minister for Magic without the supervision it was implied he so needed, the more his mind had become preoccupied with the 'what ifs' of the situation.

"Wh - what - why should anything have happened?" Johann protested without pause at Gabrielle's question. His arms raised with his terse response, which was quiet enough because he didn't want to push matters any further before the Minister or Holmes.

His brow furrowed beneath his black curls and he returned to his rather stiff seated position as he met Gabrielle's expression.

"I'm only up here to translate." He informed his superior and extended family member pointedly, shooting a glance in the direction of the Minister, about the height of her knees. Lateral thinking was outside of his purview according to Her Majesty.

A hundred witty, scorned retorts were on the tip of his tongue, and as a result he almost bit it in preventing them from leaking out. 

"Don't bite at me; I was only inquiring and besides, that 'what happened' was a concerned one..." Gabrielle began, confusion and hurt splayed over her features. She realised she had yet to sit down, so Gabrielle looked at the two higher ranked indviduals briefly, gave a "just a moment" and shut the door on them.

Walking to Johann, she sat next to him, hesitant to take his hands and hold them for reassurance. After all, he looked like a Storm now - that brow, the tense posture, the words waiting to become bullet points to the heart. "I know you're a translator; you're one of the very best that the department's ever had. What I had meant in my choice of words was this: What happened that it went so downward that she brought me here with you? You....didn't offend her, did you?"

Godric forbid.

---

Maurice eyed Persepolis with a raised eyebrow. "Well, then. That was expected yet not. Shall I go and check on the status of the meal or is there anything you need me to do?"