The atrium was a hubbub of morning chatter of the arrival of Ministry workers. The fireplaces spluttered and roared, the green tiles of the walls gleamed with the light from the flames, and a sea of bobbing heads extended from fireplaces through to the lifts.

The morning commute was in full swing as Edwin straightened his tie and exchanged distant pleasantries with the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation. It was good to be in cahoots with that Department - both feared the questions from the Minister that went along the lines of what if the floo network failed tonight or if mass panic broke out, what is our action plan for large numbers of witches and wizards apparating in haste, resulting in splinching?

Amongst the sea of faces, rainbow of formal robes and suits, and a forest of bowler hats, a face suddenly caught his eye. Tamis Raynor.

The two of them had engaged in snarling through the floo, in person departmental feuds and even moments of beautiful co-operation when the proverbial hit the fan.

Raynor had been a most efficient leader of the aurors, and she'd knocked heads together for him grudgingly when the aurors had overstepped their marks into Catastrophe's territory. Whereas he didn't take a shine to her figure quite to the point he had Admete Brown's, he did admire her, to a point.

"Raynor." Edwin greeted smoothly, catching her up through the crowd on her way to the lifts it appeared. "How fortunate to see you this morning." He continued, his tone no different to days where he would follow up such a greeting with 'about Pratt and those Fayette trainees…

"I wanted to offer my… congratulations… for your news." He raised an eyebrow and smirked to himself, tugging gently at his suit jacket lapels.

"Don't worry." He tapped his nose.

She was one of them now.

Barely topping out at five feet, despite the impeccable nature of her posture, Tamis Raynor should have been lost among the throng bursting into the Ministry, the march of feet created a shuffling, irregular rhythm to the morning commute of Wizarding England's governmental hub. Would have been, had the crowd not created a small but notable radius of inactivity with the visually harmless witch at its epicenter.

Judging the extra rigor in the Auror’s spine and freshly nursed cup tea, the Head Auror had little qualms with the masses dividing a path for her leading to the lifts.

Not that she would hold that title for much longer.

It was not official yet. She wanted to address the Aurors herself, first. And, after her… conversation[1]… with Radley this morning, she was not particularly looking forward to it.

A pointed grey-eyed look dissuaded company as she mounted her lift to level two.

For all except one.

Just as iron gate began to snap closed, a figure slipped into the lift with more dexterity than she would have ever given him credit for. He apparently agreed, preening the lapels of his coat with the pride of a strutting, white peacock.

Edwin Glass was far from her most favorite member of the Ministry entourage. However, being able to blackmail the Aurors with threats of dealing with Glass on their own was an effective enough weapon that he was not her least favorite either.

Raynor had a distaste for politics. It was necessity that had found her agreeable to the Minister’s schemes, not a love of the game. Glass wore them as a second skin, practically wiggling his eyebrows at her and tapping his nose suggestively.

Fortunate, indeed.

“I am not the one who needs be concerned, Glass."

The petite witch spared the Department Head a sidled glance and an upward twitch of her eyebrow, expression otherwise unimpressed and impassive as the doors to the lift finally slid resolutely shut.

She was most certainly not one of them.

1.	[April 30] Somewhere Just Beyond My Reach

"I do enjoy our lovely morning talks,"

Raynor and Glass had never quite seen eye to eye. Grimly professional, they worked together with disagreement and friction, but neither was too impolite to the other, only proper. They didn't need wands or fists to level the playing field, just strategic actions, and besides, up until recently, Raynor had been second fiddle on level two. The lift's disembodied voice was announcing the floors and he paused mid-sentence so as to be heard.

"Good to have some fresh blood on the boardroom table. Often literally with your Department, true to say." His hands slipped behind him to rest in the small of his broad back. He attempted to maintain a neutral expression in the direction of the gates as the floors slid past, should anyone look in. Though his eyes twinkled in amusement of his own words, which gave it away somewhat. For all his years in the post, Edwin quite enjoyed seeing the new Department Heads come in with their fresh ideas, only to find that the gears of the system turned very slowly, and rarely in the preferred direction if the Minister of the day did not agree.

"I expect," he added, inclining sideways towards her and lowering his voice over the rattle and clunks of the lift's journey, "You will have a hard time finding a suitable replacement for yourself amongst that rabble."

Such a shame Brown had moved on, he had thought to himself at the news. At least there had been something to look at when they'd spoken. She'd not been quite so petite, particularly up top.

The lift was slowing for the fifth floor, momentum was easing. It wouldn't do for this moment to be interrupted, and he so did like to show off to a colleague. Glass reached out a hand with his wand above his head, and without a word, sent the golden cage on it's journey without a stop. A few faces waiting at the fifth floor peered through the grates, forced to wait for another lift to trundle past while memos fluttered above their heads. Edwin smiled pleasantly at them, his wand safely returned to his robes, and his hands returning to clasp behind his back.

Tamis Raynor could count on one hand the number of individuals that would attempt to intentionally bait her. Four of those nuisances were under her employment, and therefore granted amnesty as long as they kept slapping restraints on dark wizards. One of those four remained pardoned for having the handicap of sharing living space with her – even given their altercation. Edwin Glass was the outlier.

This truly was the wrong morning.

The lift creaked and groaned, swaying to-and-fro as it zipped upward, seeking the various levels of the Ministry of Magic. Many wizards opted to cling to the safety grips along the edge of the lift, securing against embarrassing or inelegant tumbles when their transportation came to abrupt stops at each Department. Tamis Raynor forwent the aides, raising her tea cup to her lips and taking another long draw of the piping contents. Never batting an eyelash.

As if her… companion was not leering down at her with the thrill of a kneazle that had cornered a garden gnome. Had not just alluded to the rumors of her current promoted position being as cursed as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professorship proceeding the First War. Literal blood, indeed. And had not very blatantly insulted the men and women that had been under her direct leadership for the past six years.

She did not comment when the lift conveniently seemed to by-pass the next floor. Though, her jaw did tighten, the muscles at her mandibular condyle flexing, before relaxing. She kept her gaze straight ahead and took another sip of tea. The cup was halfway gone now. She wondered if he could refrain from saying anything even more idiotic before she finished it. 

She waited for a natural pause, for him to decide he was done for the moment, before interjecting,

“One has to wonder, Mr. Glass, if your unrelenting disdain for my Aurors stems from their propensity for keeping you too busy, or not busy enough.”

She offered him her steady, undivided attention; eyebrows inquisitively lifted, a subtle motion that gave character to her otherwise impassive expression, and grey eyes sharp and intent. Unlike several of her colleagues, Raynor had a vivid memory. There were few still, who had served under You-Know-Who’s Ministry, that remain in service today. For good reason. Raynor had, trafficking muggleborns to safety until her efforts were uncovered. She remembered Edwin Glass during that era, when the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes was less about prevention and recovery – and more about causing. She remembered the extra pep in his step. The jovial nature of his tone. The mirth of an individual that truly enjoyed coming to work every day.

Tamis Raynor could never trust Edwin Glass. Could never not question if the reason behind his dislike of the current operation of her department was that their successes kept him too bored.

This was such sport! Raynor was doing her very utmost best to avoid his bait, but she wouldn't be able to resist eventually, and it was such fun.

"My dear," Edwin began, his tone very matter of fact, gentle, pretending to be concerned that he had to explain this to her, but really just playing yet again.

"We would be busy either way what with the dementors and the ageing population losing their marbles. It would just be a little more straightforward if your Aurors weren't causing quite so many of the messes we have to get them out of." He gave a little nod of his head.

"They are, after all, meant to be the cream of the crop - well outside of my Department and Nine I admit - for using their magic to control volatile situations with criminal intent." His hands slid before him and he raised them at waist height with palms uppermost as if weighing up his argument.

"Though they have the reputation for doing so in the most explosive, intrusive manner." Edwin shifted his heels of his shiny shoes on the lift floor and his hands returned to the small of his back where he drew himself up and swelled his chest with self-importance,
"I mean, whatever happened to a firm body bind? Why do we have to blow craters in consecrated ground?" He gave a little shrug of his shoulders. "But I am sure now you are Department Head, things will be ship shape." He gave her a forced smile, his rosy red cheeks shining above his thick lips.

There was the distinct argument, that her Department was currently working overtime, shelving investigations that could not afford the distraction, in order to assist in this… Dementor Epidemic. The Ministry had become complacent in its decade of relative peace. After all, what larger threat could there be than a Wizard so feared, they had been afraid to speak his name? The Auror Corps, under the insistence of many former Order members, including Shacklebolt himself, had incorporated producing a corporeal patronus into its basic admission requirements. Not every wizard could, but every Auror should.

One of Raynor’s first acts in her new position would be to petition to the Minister that a separate task force (under another Department’s regulation, even) be created to handle the problem. Dark Wizard Hunters could not root out the cause of the problem if they were constantly being sent out to deal with the symptoms.

Instead, she blinked at him once, languid and unimpressed, before turning her gaze back to the dial indicating the decreasing level numbers. The petite witch lifted now-boarding-lukewarm tea to her lips again. It took a great amount of effort not to transfigure her ‘companion’ into something unsavory. The wizard might fancy himself a snake, but Raynor was entertaining the likeness of a big, fat, unthrifty rat.

She gave the politician credit. Her certainly knew how to hit all the right nerves. The continued insult on the men and woman who had been hit the hardest tightened her jaw further. Ackerly Fox, whose personal prejudices, and finally personal assault on his family, had led him to resignation. Edward Pratt – whom she was considering a lot lately who had suffered a similar experience. Aberdeen Spencer. Adon Eleor, who Raynor might have personally failed the most. Benjamin Timmins, who had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time during that fateful remembering day.

When was the last time this man, in his pinstripes and suspenders, suffered similar trauma? Criticizing the severity of force used by Aurors to detain those doing their best to kill them.

Raynor kept her expression schooled, drained the rest of her cup of tea, and let the porcelain vanish; smoking from existence between her hands.

 “Perhaps, if you had more experience, you would have more introspection on the matter.” She replied, again, finally, and added, on-par with his faux-pleasantry. “Level Two is always beholden to you for your janitorial assistance.”

Her hand brushed her own wand, nestled securely on her hip, as they approached the next floor, but instead of screaming past as Glass had sent to before, it came to a jarring stop before it reached it. Raynor swayed on her feet from the force, but recovered quickly.

For the first time since the lift embarked, she turned bodily to face Glass, looking up her nose at him. There was a difference between not rising to the bait and not standing her ground. He was not being subtle, by any definition of the word.

“I am not my, brief, predecessor, Glass. Nor as easily wooed.”

She let him make of that statement what he would. They were on a tight time schedule. It would not be long before the other lifts screeched to their own halt or were forced to veer off in unplanned directions to avoid crashing into their own.

“The Auror Corps has preformed amiably, despite the constant overturn in leadership and targeted, terroristic efforts. I can assure you, now that the Department is back in my governance, they will continue to exhibit their exceptional value.”

Too many potion masters brewing one cauldron will affect the potency. It was not the potion’s fault. She arched an eyebrow at him pointedly,

“Unless you have a formal complaint, I believe we are done here.”

When the lift came to an unscheduled halt, Edwin was most pleased. It was acknowledgement that she wanted more time to try and counter his goading. She wasn't just going to ignore him. This might be good fun.

"Unless you have a formal complaint, I believe we are done here."

Edwin smiled, and looked down at Raynor and her teacup. She was doing her best to pretend to be a cool cucumber, but he would put money on her being anxious about her new position, about who would fill her tiny shoes in the Auror office. This was going to be fun. Brown as fun for other reasons, but Raynor was sport, daresay a match across the table. He would enjoy her battling against the glacial speed of government at the highest level.

"Time for that later." He replied sweetly, "Wouldn't want to delay you getting to your rabble."

He twitched his wand in his podgy hand, the lift rising again with a slight bump and wheeze. It was only a few seconds from coming to a clatter into station at level three. The grill rattled open and the disembodied voice recited the details.

"You know where to find us, when you need the day saving." He told her as he stepped out of the lift, several waiting Ministry employees and a flock of memos sweeping in around them. Raynor parried well without an audience, he'd have to try it with one next time.



End