Lawrence was pretending to be dosing, sat waiting not far from the parole line. When he'd appeared to get his mark on the weekly register, he'd been told to take a seat. The overworked squib doing admin had shrugged and suggested a 'spot check' when he'd queried why there was a change to the usual routine, and had poked a quill more forcefully to take a seat out of the way.

He supposed that was somewhere warm and free to sit for a bit, but his mind was already taking in who was about, ears intent on the conversations around. The squib was a bit too ill informed and low to know much. She was a box ticker, no great trust placed on her by the lack of decent checks. She wasn't even sure they were who they claimed they were that morning. It was a good week to pay someone else to turn up with polyjuice on your behalf, in retrospect.

At the arrival of some red robed aurors, he cracked open both eyes, and then pretended to inspect the nails on his right, remaining, hand. He would benefit from a long hot bath, but it was often a bit hard to come by lodging that had one. Transfiguration only got you so far with washing before you found yourself sat in a teacup instead of a bath...

To think that if he'd not been thrown in Azkaban he'd have still been the one in the red robes discussing the finer points of wizarding law and the idiot criminals. Because those were the ones that got caught - the idiots - not the clever ones. Those were harder, but you caught up with them eventually if you were wily enough. He'd enjoyed those, and to see some of them from the other side in more recent weeks had been both bittersweet and a moment alone to verify what he'd always believed.

As much as being indoors on a summer's day with somewhere to sit was a rare luxury, his prolonged detention waiting to hear if he was spot checked or whether his former colleagues wanted to blame him for something was irritating. Still, when someone did at last approach him, he adopted a pleasant, if welcoming face, the one he wore when he told the Prophet[1] when he was released in February.

1.	Feb 2 Disgraced Auror Freed from Azkaban

"Lawrence Musgrave?" Andromeda asked. The wizard looked like he was trying to sleep. He had long, curly black hair which needed washing. Everything he wore looked old. The other aurors had told her that Musgrave used to be an auror. He did bad things in the war and was thrown in Azkaban prison. Andromeda remembered seeing him before when he came in for parole. She had never spoken to him until now.
"Come this way." Andromeda beckoned him with one hand. They walked across the office to an interview room. "Take a seat." She pointed at the chair on the left side of the table. Once he had entered she shut the door.
"I am Auror Gamp." She introduced herself. She took the seat opposite and swung her robes out of the way as she did. "I need to ask you a few questions. Everything we say will be recorded." Between them she put a roll of parchment and a verbatis quill. It would write down everything.
"Where were you on the night of Sunday 18th July 2010?"

"Lawrence Musgrave?" The auror before him had joined in the time he'd been inside - he didn't recognise her, and she looked to be in her twenties. He wondered if she knew anything about him.
 
Without introducing herself she beckoned him on. Lawrence made a face to himself about this. Despite being released from Azkaban, he was still at the Ministry's beck and call. It was most displeasing, and he didn't want to hang around talking to aurors he hadn't worked with, it wasn't sociable.

Eventually once they were both in an interview room, she introduced herself as Gamp. Good, solid wizarding family, no complaints there, but as why he was here, he was still at a loss.
"I need to ask you a few questions. Everything we say will be recorded." Lawrence remained steadfastly silent at this. He recognised the rather dear verbatis quill that was sued to record conversations down to each and every um and er.
"Where were you on the night of Sunday 18th July 2010?"

Lawrence sat back, his eyes busy looking around the room they were sat in. It was almost as if he hadn't heard the question. The quill hung in the air between them, at a loss of what to record.

He wasn't going to answer that, for more than a few reasons. So once he'd swept his eyes over the room, he scratched his nose with his remaining hand, and plonked the end of his other arm on the tabletop and stared at Gamp levelly before yawning.

"Mr Musgrave." Andromeda spoke. He was ignoring her on purpose. People had warned her. She had hoped he would help. "Where were you on Sunday night?" This was really frustrating. Andromeda began to wonder if he knew what she was going to ask. She wondered if she should call another auror to help.
"Mr Musgrave, you are not under arrest. But I would like you to help me." She stared hard at him.

"Mr Musgrave, you are not under arrest. But I would like you to help me."

Aha, she'd cottoned on. Lawrence looked from her to the parchment where the quill had so far only recorded her words. She'd like him to help her? What if he didn't particularly think that what he was doing on Sunday was of any use to a nosey auror? As he looked up again, he saw she was now staring at him intently. He gazed back for a few seconds, disinterested, and then got to his feet. The quill quivered, not sure what to write, waiting for someone to speak. Lawrence denied it and took three, deliberate steps towards the door, and reached out to open it.

If he wasn't under arrest, he wasn't going to entertain aurors longer than it took to prove he had appeared for his weekly sign-on. He didn't even known what they thought he might help them with, but they'd already made their mind up that he was involved.

He turned the handle.

Omari had gotten the details about the accusation against Lawrence Musgrave the previous day. The dementor attack that took place Sunday had produced witnesses, and with witnesses came statements. This one particular witness had described Musgrave to boot, which took the investigation a step further (and in a direction most people at the Office weren’t so pleased with.)

Omari had recognized the man instantly upon entering, the Azkaban mugshot still fresh in his mind - the mop of curly unwashed hair, the light, sickly coloured skin and the missing left hand. Now, Omari knew something about losing limbs, having his entire left leg blasted off by an Erumpent, but losing your wand-hand was something he could not really grasp.

Andromeda had taken the ex-convict in for questioning straight away, and Omari was keeping his eyes on them. He didn’t trust Musgrave. Anyone who would turn their back on the Aurors and the Ministry should be locked up for good. Treason was not something Omari took lightly, and if Musgrave turned out to be the one organizing the Dementor attacks, he would be glad to put him away again.

Deciding he didn’t want to let Andromeda have to do the hearing herself, Omari walked over, left foot clinking against the floor, and threw the door open. Suddenly he was standing face to face with the man.

“Mr. Musgrave,” Omari said with a deep voice. “Sit down. The lass has some questions fer ya!”

If she'd only been dragging a battle axe behind her.  Quill's march down the corridor into Auror headquarters seemed to be driven on by an urgency far greater than her usual dedication to ticking boxes.   She stopped twice to whisper quick questions at sentries at desks, and each time she was directed with a finger pointed further down.

She slowed her pace as she neared the corridor to the interview rooms, but she'd arrived just in time to see an Auror enter an interview room. But she was at the door to hear the Auror say: Mr. Musgrave!

At the name, Quill's blood froze solid.  It was true! That evil snake had been brought in.  There wasn't enough for Quill to be sure, but she had an idea why.  Whatever it was, if it was Musgrave then it was foul.  She stood stiffly halfway down the hallway, trying to decide what to do.  Her nostrils flared quietly.

A few moments more and she was rapping her knuckles against the interview room door.

The door came open in his hand and he took and abrupt step backwards, lips curling into a snarl at the irritation of his path being blocked.

"Mr Musgrave," this one boomed, "Sit down. The lass has some questions fer ya!" Musgrave stared as levelly as he could at the newly arrived auror, none too pleased at being told to sit like a dog.

He still hadn't been told what this was all about. Or been arrested, so reluctantly, after a few moments of pondering the door again he gave a shrug and a sigh and took a seat, turning it sideways so he was sat facing the door than them. He folded one leg over the other, crossed his arms and looked disinterested.

By the time he'd done that there was a knock at the door. Musgrave's eyebrows raised with incredulity that there could be another person arriving to join this little game. Perhaps one of them might tell him why he was here. Because apart from Sunday night being significant, he was at a loss.

Mr Musgrave was playing hard to get. Andromeda gritted her teeth. She would have to arrest him to stop him leaving. Even then he might not talk. She could not give him veritaserum because that would not work in court. Omari arrived and almost hit Musgrave with the door. Andromeda would have preferred he had. It was annoying when Musgrave sat down because Omari told him. Good too though. It was what Andromeda wanted.
"Come in." She told the person knocking on the door. The quill was writing everything down. Musgrave still had not spoken yet. When the door opened Andromeda looked surprised. The witch was from level 3 and looked important. Now it was even more frustrating that Lawrence would not speak. "Can we help you?"

The door opened, and for some reason that was cause for surprise.  She saw two Aurors, a witch and a wizard. And she saw Lawrence Musgrave. She hadn't at all suspected for the door to swing open so easily and to be suddenly face on with a wizard who all those years ago had met certain peril.  Whose deplorable, sickly black soul had been a cause for her to compromise her own soul out of fear for her family.  Her muggle-born, mixed-blood family.[1]

The witch Auror was asking what she needed.  Quill looked at her, then Musgrave, then again at the Auror. Gamp. She was a Gamp. 

"I need a word. With one of you." She added the last bit hastily to the Aurors, with a wary but forbidding glance at Musgrave.  The last thing she wanted was to hear a single word he said.

She then stepped to the left so that she and Musgrave no longer had line of sight through the doorway.

When an Auror obliged[2], any look of hestitation vanished and she hissed her query.  "Why is he here? What's he done? How is he involved?"  That last question might have been giving away too much, revealing an unspoken suspicion.[3]

1.	Quill Som was on Level Three during the Death Eater's Ministry and laid low.
2.	Sorry to godmod you out into the hall, but it might best for moving things along.
3.	Quill is referring to Dementor stuff.

Musgrave obliging to his demand made Omari a little less tense. People on the other side of the interrogation room usually did as he said. It probably had something to do with his large built, dark booming voice and hard face. But he hadn’t been sure how Musgrave would react. Not with being an ex-Auror and all that.

The knock on the door made him tense up again. He knew it wouldn’t be another Auror - they knew better than to interrupt in the beginning of an interrogation. It must be someone else. And someone with too little sense or knowledge about the case.

The door opened, and a witch peeked through the doorway. Omari recognised her. She was the Head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. But he couldn’t quite remember her name. It was something strange. Feather? Ink? He was still battling with her name as he followed her outside and shut the door. The witch (Parchment?) fired away questions almost instantly.

“I’m not sure yer have the clearance to know these things, Miss,” he answered, eyeing her suspiciously. “Musgrave is part of an ongoing case, and the details aren’t fer any witch or wizard to know.”

He glanced towards the door, then back at the witch before continuing.

“Why yer want to know? What’s yer interest in Musgrave?”

When the door opened once more, Lawrence raised an eyebrow and scratched his chin with his hand. Now that was interesting, Som, wasn't she Edwin's right hand woman these days on level three from what he'd gleaned from the paper? He hadn't seen her this close in over a decade.

Gamp was surprised and her 'can we help you' was terse, her frustration with Lawrence's silence and the second interruption very clear. Som only glanced at Lawrence, but he got the gist of how she felt about him. She demanded one of the aurors step out. Lawrence glanced between them all and refolded his arms, waiting to see who would yield.

The male auror got to his feet and stepped outside with Som. Left alone with Gamp, Lawrence yawned, pretending to be bored while seeing if he could hear any of what was going on outside. Typically these rooms were pretty warded.

As he was alone with Gamp, he leaned what was left of his left arm on the top of the table and peered down at the parchment with the quill poised over it. Looking up at Gamp purposefully, he reached out and slid the parchment to the other side of the table - nearest the door - wondering if it had better hearing than he did.

Omari went outside with the witch from level 3. Andromeda sighed. She was irritated at all these interruptions. All she wanted was to find out the truth. Musgrave was not talking. This did not help. Now there were all the interruptions. When Musgrave moved the parchment and quill, Andromeda's wand was out in a flash. He did not stop, but only moved it to the end of the table.
"Do not tamper with the quill and parchment, Mr Musgrave." She told him firmly, and noticed the quill was bobbing. It looked like it was about to write more than her words. Andromeda seized it and pushed it back to the other end.
"Not talking is not going to help us." She said, irritated. "If you are innocent then you need to prove it to us by telling us where you were." She glanced to the door, wondering how long Omari would be. She wanted to get on with this interview.

Clearance? "No, of course." 

Quill Som understood and respected procedure.  She had never been the sort to have any quarrel with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, especially since the rebuilding under Shacklebolt and Raynor.  But.

"I..."  She hesitated.  She knew Musgrave was rehabilitated.  His case had been heard before the Wizengamot, he'd been tested and heard.  The past was the past and he'd paid the penalty.  The war was over. But, she couldn't shake the dread of those old days.  Days she couldn't imagine these young Aurors remembered.

"You know who he is," she said finally.  "Just. You need to be careful.  I know how he looks now."  He was missing a hand. "But he is more than a match for you."

Not the most diplomatic thing to say to an Auror, that he should consider himself out matched by a disheveled, skinny old man with a crooked face and watery gaze.  But Quill knew better and these Aurors should take note as well.

She frowned, not at all worried about offending the Auror.  But she realized she didn't know what she hoped to accomplish by coming here, and was beginning to regret it.

Quill shook her head and set her jaw.

“You need to be careful.  I know how he looks now. But he is more than a match for you."

Omari didn’t show it, but those words had angered him slightly. More than a match? This lady must not be as involved in Auror business as she might lead on. Of course, Musgrave was an ex-Auror, but he had both lost his wand hand and not been in the Corps for almost twelve years. Tactics had changed, training evolved. If it ever came down to a Duel, it might not be as easy as with any old wizard, but Omari felt confident that it wouldn’t take long to secure Musgrave’s defeat.

“Miss…” What was it again? Quill? Quill! “Miss Quill. Musgrave is currently in the Auror Headquarters. I’m sure yer needn't worry about him.”

Omair gave Quill a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and placed a hand on the doorknob. He needed to get the interrogation started before Musgrave grew too impatient and clam up. With all the Dementor attacks going on, someone saying they saw Musgrave control them was a serious lead that needed follow through.

He gave Quill a small nod.

“Was there anything else?”