8:45 pm
Friday Night.
Full Moon.

The reckoning was taking its toll.  Every department was scrambling and wracking their brains to get a handle on the beastly arcane arithmetic that was their budget.  Expenditures played hide and seek, invoices attacked interns, accounts payables were more aptly called accounts prayable for all the pleading in vain.

Zephyr needed more talent.  She needed the raw skill of a true arithmancer, someone she could rely on, someone with a reputation.  Someone who could see through the numbers to the truth.  And someone who knew goblins.

"Mr. MacLeod!"

Persepolis's voice was a velvet alto purr, her wrinkling eyes a peal of bells.  She was dressed in purple here at Hogwarts on the eve of the final task. 

"How fine it is to see you.  Please, please, sit.  We can talk."

The Headmistress was as welcoming as one would expect, but she might not have been if she knew the Minister's true purpose.   (Well, one of them. She did have a date with a certain flame-filled cuppa later on.)  If Minerva McGonagal did know that the Minister was here to lure away one of her professors she hadn't let on.  And thus a trap was set.

Dinner was well and truly over the night before the final task. Professor Henry MacLeod stayed behind a bit after his evening meal, discussing various topics with various people – some more serious than others. Garbed in his usual earthy tones, Henry found he tended to blend in well with the surrounding stone. That, added to his short stature, and it almost seemed as if Henry had a cloak of invisibility. Surely no one would notice the lone arithmancy professor cutting through the antechamber, right?

He was only passing through, as there was quite a nice shortcut through a tapestry that landed nearly in front of the man’s office. Being the height of a first year, Henry found cantering up and down the grand staircase a pain in his rear, especially when the blasted things started moving! As soon as he stepped foot in the antechamber, however, things took a turn for the worse.

The old crone herself, Madam Headmistress Minerva McGonagall grabbed his shoulder in a tight embrace, ”Ah, Professor MacLeod, so glad to see you’ve come to volunteer to safeguard the maze during tomorrow’s task,” said she, and Henry’s face blanched. What had he gotten himself into? He should have just taken his chances with the blasted staircase! Instead he spent the next hour being instructed in all the horrors placed within the infernal labyrinth, until a clear voice rang out in the distance.

One simply did not ignore the summons of the Minister of Magic herself, so Henry quickly left the group to join Zephyr. “Madam Minister,” He said with a gruff accent, attempting a half-bow while still looking slightly composed. “What can I do fer ya t’day?” He asked, pulling his pipe from within his pocket and lighting the tobacco with the tip of his wand. He knew McGonagall despised smoking within the castle, but it was she that got Henry in this mess in the first place. He grabbed a seat across from Persepolis, as he felt it unseemingly forward to sit beside the Minister.

He was a strange-looking person and Persepolis could not ignore the stereotype that someone so short and featured could have goblin in his blood.  It was an unkind thought, but something that she was sure many had assumed about him.  But it was that prejudice that could very well serve...

"I must impose upon you a difficult choice.  Understand that I wouldn't presume to do so unless it was of grave importance.    But that is the heavy crown of my position, that nearly every errand is dire in some way or another.  And while I'm loathe to burden you with the same lot, I find that my options are limited," she purred in a lightly smiling monologue.

She turned her head slightly and smiled.  A professional smile that rarely reached her eyes.

"You've of course of the comprehensive financial audit taking place at the Ministry of Magic.  Before I reveal my purpose here, I  must ask: what insight have you on the topic?"

Perhaps the controversy had not yet reached Hogwarts castle or had troubled the mind of Henry Macleod.  But she was keen to discover if he had figured his way into its secret motivation.  A  man of numbers, she would not be surprised if he had his suspicions. 

Yes, Henry MacLeod had goblin ancestry - that much was true. It was a fact Henry didn’t bother trying to hide, as his short stature and spindly fingers were proof enough to any who bothered to look. That, however, was where the similarities between the two ended. Henry’s temperament was quite a bit more tame than his ancestors, and the hairy man had always been more interested in numbers rather than the gold they represent.

The pint-sized arithmancer knew well the dangers goblins could cause to a well-run wizarding society. Goblins were viscous creatures with an unsurpassed greedy nature and strong beliefs. Those beliefs didn’t always coincide with human thoughts or laws, causing a never-ending struggle between the two races. He had lived in equanimity with the creatures for a number of years, so his views on goblin politics didn’t always match with popular opinion; however, he knew both races very well.

One bushy eyebrow rose at the Minister’s rather cryptic speech before Henry opened his mouth, “Aye, I’ve a couple guesses. If I migh’ be so bold,” he said, wondering just how far he could press the Minister without her bringing in the obliviators. “Wit’ a’ organization ‘s big as tha Ministry, I’d guess ye don’t do Ministry-wide audits of’en. Ye’d need ta stagger ‘em, so tha information isn’t too overwhelmin’. Ye doin’ one so quickly an’ such means trouble,”

Then, a sigh, “Coupl’a nights after tha third task, Minerva asked if I could examine the cup – ta see if it were goblin-wraught or not. I’d wager my beard ye’r havin’ trouble wit’ tha goblins, though I don’t see how I can be any help,”

He paused, worried he might have been a bit too insightful, but then again… hadn’t she just asked for his opinion? It was foolish for him to be worried, after all, what could the Minister of Magic want with a lowly Hogwarts Professor?

Persepolis had to hide her alarm.  Henry MacLeod had surmised an inkling of the plot with more detail than she would have liked.  Grimly she noted that she'd had people Oblivated for far less.  And she ached to pounce on his revelation that McGonagal had had him inspect the goblet without her say so.  That was exactly the thing they didn't want to do.  If there was no proof of who made it, no one could claim it was made by goblins.  They couldn't change the goblins being right thus causing the total destruction of the entire Wizarding economy and the downfall of all that was good and magical in this land.

Her expression darkened as she nodded in appreciation for his candor.  "I thank you, Professor MacLeod, I do.  I can certainly see that I was not at all mistaken in finding in you an astute and clever fellow."

"And very curious that you should bring up the - what's it called? - Goblet of Fire.  What an odd little curio.  Tell me, did you find anything about it at all? The goblins are a never-ending thorn in our side.  You haven't been in touch with them at all have you? No one from Gringotts has been here? Because that'd be...unexpected."

She feinted and feigned around the goblet and the goblins, winding and wondering about the two subjects which took up so much of her tension and time.  There was a great deal more knowledge about their troubles floating around in the world.  This worried her.

Henry’s chest swelled with pride, and he straightened his earthy green vest as the Minister complimented him. He was astute and clever, wasn’t he? And that the compliment should come from the Minister of Magic herself, well that was better than finding a galleon in the gutters! A smile split his features, showing slightly yellowed teeth – before quickly being hidden by the stem of a pipe.

Blowing a cloud of smoke from his lungs, the part-goblin spoke, “Nay, on all counts. I told McGonagall tha same I’m tellin’ ye, Minister. I’m a’ arithmancer, I don’t study goblin magic. I do numbers. Aye, I know the goblins well – worked for ‘em long enough. I daresay ye wouldn’t keep in touch if ye worked there either,”

“I know tha goblin’s ‘ave a list, but why tha interest in tha Goblet? They ‘ave claim on artefacts that ev’ryone know are goblin-wrought. Why waste their time on a’ uncertainty?” He was telling the truth on all counts. Though his family kept in touch through family ties, Henry wasn’t particularly close with any member of his family. He wasn’t aware of any member of the Gringott’s staff having visited the castle, though he wasn’t aware of quite a few things.

And he was an arithmancer, something that was sorely underappreciated. People always assumed that because of his Goblin ancestry, he would be a complete expert on the ways of the creature. While he was fluent in gobbledegook, knew the goblin’s customs and traditions (and even religions), but in ways of magics – their metalworking abilities, their magical abilities – those they kept to themselves. It was no easy task, but he could read your past, present, and future through the numbers in your life, and could do accounts for all of Gringotts with no problem.

"No one understand arithmancers, do they?"

Persepolis was a master at intuiting the source and tickle of any witch or wizards's prides and insecurities.  Oh nothing paranatural, of course, no dark dealings or divinations.  Just a ... knack.  And this odd little man's chip was plain to see.  How fortunate for them both.  She was beginning to feel very hopeful indeed.

"But surely, Mr. MacLeod, I have a unflinching respect for your trade.  You can count on that, sir.  And that is the reason I've imposed upon you: to impose further.  I'd like you to leave Hogwarts and come work for me."

She smiled softly with supplicating brows.  She'd presented the offer on a fine point, making no mistake that she expected him not on a part-time basis or as a consultant, but that she wanted his services fully and for an indefinite engagement. 

"We have a great need for skills such as yours and I've found my office inadequately staffed."

Unflinching respect – indeed. The silver-tounged witch’s honeyed compliments were certainly not lost on the tiny arithmancer. Under the bushy beard covering Henry’s face, his cheeks started to redden… just a bit. His moustache quivered as his smile widened – showing his yellowed teeth. He tamped his pipe and stowed the tobacco within his robes. His smile, however, quickly faded as the Minister dropped all pretense and bluntly stated her clandestine visit.

Persepolis Zephyr was indeed a true politician. Any witch who could visit the castle for TetraWizard purposes and walk out with an Arithmancer was a powerful woman indeed. Henry wanted to be part of that. On the other hand – though Henry didn’t necessarily like Minerva McGonagall – it was she that gave Henry such an amazing post at the esteemed wizarding school, and it would be quite unprofessional and rude of him not to spend at least a year within the walls.

Henry had grown close to the students – at least some of them, and though most didn’t truly grasp the art of arithmancy, he still felt like he was making some progress… Wouldn’t, however, it be a better use of his time to help the world now, through immediate action, than training the next generation? If he could make it easier on them now, the children might not have such a hard time when it was their turn to take up the mantle.

And a position within the Minister’s own retinue – well that was simply unheard of. A great honor, one Henry was unsure if he could pass up. He was fairly sure the job would be manageable – he had, after all, been a rather successful arithmancer for Gringotts. “When do I start?” He asked, putting all his doubts aside for the moment. This – well this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, one not normally offered to ‘half-breeds’, for even now, years after the fall of Voldemort, prejudices still ran high. There was no way he was passing it up.

Persepolis clapped her hands once, her face bright with smile.  "Oh, Mr. MacLeod, you have no idea how relieved I am! Fantastic news, sir!"

The Minister of Magic rose from her seat so that she could reach him and clasp his hands in hers.  Now that she had his answer, the details would fall into place on their own.  (Or rather, her staff would begin the paperwork and logistics.)  He'd agreed and it was a huge coup for their purposes on Level One. 

"My druthers would be to have you immediately, but I am ever a champion of education.  You know very well that I served on the board of Governors and would sooner rend my hair manually from my own head than to deprive your students of your expertise in these last desperate weeks."

She held up her hands in a show of reluctant surrender.  "Take whatever time you need."