Morning after the full moon - Birmingham - closed down swimming baths (pool).


It wasn't dementors, but it had sparked a Tuesday morning multi-department operation.

A correlation of overnight magical activity at this site, the report of a werewolf attack admitted to St Mungo's, a full moon and a bloodied scene. Rather a smoking gun, though they were still working on who fired it.

Sunlight poured in through the grubby glass ceiling of the disused baths, which despite the sunshine, was a little on the chilly side with all the tiles.

"Something like muffliato on the whole building," a figure nearby was reporting to another from MLE. The building was crawling with people.

Edwin was more interested in the state of the balcony that ran around the edge of the pool. The metal was blasted out, twisted in such a way that it would take a significant, targeted blast from  the walkway. The debris were scattered below in such a wide pattern his gut instinct told him it could only have been magic to have done such a thing.

They might have followed it up later that day, had it not been for the tip off. The place could have been wiped clean by then. Edwin was keeping quite closed-lipped about the source, mostly because he didn't trust it enough at first. He'd once trusted it quite willingly, but then it had got itself caught, and Azkaban, along with Voldemort's circle, did things to you. It wasn't until the other items came to light that he risked a gamble on it - an address in Birmingham, these baths, and the initials LAM.

Whether it had anything to do with werewolves, they were yet to discover, but the whacking great cage, and a dog's squeaky toy were amongst the very strange items in the empty pool.

And Musgrave hadn't turned up for parole for the first time since his release in February.

"Muggles won't have heard anything then." Edwin grumbled aloud in response to the report nearby. "City's noisy enough. Anyone got a definitive answer on this cage?" He gestured with his head, both hands rammed into his pockets to prevent him wanting to touch. "Looks like silver plate."

The interdepartmental exploits they were all forced to take part in thanks to Zephyr’s minister were certainly what Eddie Pratt would call a ‘ball ache’. His aurors had to liaise with Glass’s obliviators before any merlin damned thing could be done. He had to deal with magical accidents and catastrophes and beasts ruining a crime scene that should have been left to the aurors, therefore creating more mess and paperwork for Pratt and his subordinates.

“This int’ a clean up op, Glass.” From a corner of the pool where he’d been speaking to an auror about the blood smeared on the tiles, Pratt made a swift approach on the Head of Catastrophes, red robes billowing behind him. “It ‘ent easy to do our jobs when I’ve got your ‘ousekeepers tramplin’ all over our evidence.”

It had only been a couple of months with Auror Pratt heading the auror office but he already knew the big players in the ministry. He’d spent years avoiding them and any type of politics. To say he’d kept his head down and done his job would have been lying, but he definitely hadn’t lifted it above his own department. And auror certainly didn’t play nicely with other non aurors when their territory was being compromised.

“I get that ye got the tip into yer own pretty little hands, but that ‘ent gonna help us now when we need to know facts and sweep this place with a toothcomb.” Ed was rather different to his predecessor.

Quill Som stood like a rock in a river.  The platforms and balconies surrounding the tiled pit were full of people but they kept a wide berth as they moved around her.  She was in a fairly good mood this morning although you'd have to know her well to see it.  She looked cross, but at a complex scene with an extra long clipboard in hand she was in the flow of doing what she did best.

"The locker rooms are locked magically, Som."

"Document by which spell they were locked[1] and how long ago then get an Auror to open it for you. And report back."  Aurors were better trained for busting down locked doors and she'd rather have one of them take the brunt of any traps or jinxes that might be waiting. 

She overheard Pratt whining to Glass and she sniffed.  That tip.  It was a catastrophe in itself.  Why Glass hadn't sent it to Level Two where it belonged, she still wasn't sure.  But she'd keep her tongue if it meant getting to the bottom of this and keeping her peace with Glass.  For now.  She wasn't overfond of cover-ups.  Nor that scraggly-haired, deceitful, cowardly disgrace.  What he had to do with this, she knew she'd only find more revulsion.

"Neither is your whinging," she snapped in defense of her boss.

"It's silver, alright!" A witch from Creatures lifted her goggles off and shouted her findings from where she had been inspecting the makings of the massive cage. "And there was a spell on this latch." 

At that, Quill Som saw a red-robed Auror trot over to have a look at what spell it might have been.  "Don't touch it. Back away, now."

"Bones..." Quill breathed and shook her head with a frown.  "Werewolves." 

1.	Maybe Delcaro Incantatum or Revoficus

" Pratt is right to speak up when evidence is getting contaminated- thus potentially letting someone get away with attacking someone" Sam snapped, aware he probably should be politer to the Deputy head of the DoMa&C, but he really had very little patience with bunglers screwing up a crime scene. heading over to where they had found a spell on the latch, he muttered "Revoficus", watching the colours. "I doubt it was werewolves acting on their own- they can't cast magic while in wolf form, so I suspect that the werewolves are at most the weapon used by someone else." Sam said, already mulling over what might have happened.

Andromeda stuck her head out of one of the changing cubicles at the side of the pool.
"Got more blood in here. Lots of fingerprints in it." She walked to the edge of the pool to see Harcroft better. "Different blood to the stuff over there." She pointed to where Harcroft was. "More than one person injured. This one came up and hid in here." She pointed again with her wand at blood spots from the ladder to the door. Andromeda checked the door for spells. "Hmm, collportus from the outside. That is strange. Why would someone lock an injured person in? If I was injured, I would lock myself in."

Truth be told, the whole thing was a bloody disaster.  Having more than one department in any given area was bound to create friction – and those that were not trained in how to act in a crime scene were making the aurors’ jobs harder than they ever had to be.  Archer nearly felt a vessel in his brain pop when he watched an oblivator walk through a cordoned off section of the scene.  “Oi!” he yelled out, “watch it!”

The young one, probably barely out of training, looked around with bug eyes and noticed the cording off and jumped out with a brisk apology, ducking his head and walking quickly away.  Archer pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and let out a deep sigh.  This was some bloody mess they were all getting into.

With the amount of blood present at the scene and the indication of magical activity something had happened that was big.  All of the magic was new, the scene was fresh, even the smell was still metallic.  Archer thought he’d get used to it across the years.  Turns out he didn’t – and probably never would.  So, he cleared his throat to try and refocus his mind on the task at hand.

The locker room looked to be the place Archer was going to go and following the cue of the Accidents investigator, Archer approached and pointed his wand.  Blue light subsided as the glow of the lock intensified.  “Spell was recently applied,” he explained to the witch who was documenting.  The reddish glow indicated a hex or jinx of some sort, should someone try to open it.  “Hex or jinx,” he added, in case the witch didn’t know. 

He used his wand to levitate the lock and turn it, to avoid physically triggering whatever was present and frowned.  The external lock was created to be opened with a wand – the keyhole fit to accommodate the tip of a specific wand.  “We might be able to break this,” he looked at the witch, “but it’s got a wand specific lock.”  He didn’t want to try with his own wand – fear of its destruction being imminent.  Whoever wanted this room locked certainly knew how to do it. 

“Got an extra wand?” he asked with a half-grin.  The witch did not seem amused, and Archer shrugged.  He hoped his idea would work and let the lock fall back on the door before he flicked his wand, red sparks erupting from the tip.  The lock jumped and shook for a second before it creaked open.  Archer levitated the lock to an evidence collection bag – it was still fit to a wand – someone’s would have to fit it (excellent evidence for a trial) and the door, no longer locked, slowly swung open. 

“Got another room open,” he called out over his shoulder.  This appeared to get the attention of people he did not want approaching and he signed, adding a little louder: “aurors only until it’s clear!”

"Aurors only until it's clear!" Auror Radley's voice stopped two of Level Three's people in their indignant tracks, but they obeyed.

Quill herself had paused, lost for the moment in thought.  Despite his gruffness, Auror Harcroft had a pristine reputation. And he had a point.  He'd said, the werewolves might have been employed as weapons.

"Direwolves," she muttered, unable to banish the events of March[1] from her mind.  The attacks which had brought to light a horrible new manifestation of the werewolf curse - this one deliberate. 

"You! Shirar!" She summoned over a witch in the rugged trappings of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. "Get your supervisors - search the scene for any indication that there were Direwolves here."  Shirar seemed skeptical.  "We must be thorough," Quill Som insisted and that seemed to satisfy. 

Quill Som and her assistant continued to stand central and collect reports and forms as they came it.  Perhaps it wasn't the specific purview of her department to act as hub of information, but it was certainly Quill's forte. Bet your wand when the day was done, everything would be in the proper hands, properly documented.

"Glass! Owl here from Level One."  She whipped her hand in the air and the envelope she was holding snapped crisply.

1.	The Ides of March, March 2009

Brandelis had arrived a smidge later than his bosses would have liked and immediately threw himself into the mix to avoid a scolding from the Seniors. He busied himself with checking the large cage, careful not to touch it with his bare hands. He did, however, find a shard of the cage and removed a small vial full of a blue liquid from his coat. The young man waited until the shard had been properly documented before pouring a drop of the aqua blue solution over the shard. It sizzled, hissed, and turned an ugly mix of orange and brown. Brandelis looked up at the Heads of the Departments, specifically Pratt, with a grim look on his face.

"It's silver, sir."

He stood up to cork the vial and slip it back into his pocket. After a long look around at the busy crime scene, his expression turned to something else--puzzled. Brandelis slipped away from his superiors for a moment to follow large tracks all over the place, checking in on Gamp and other areas where blood had been spilled. Then he returned to Pratt's side, brows furrowed.

"Odd isn't it, sir? Dozens of tracks, blood spilled everywhere, obvious signs of werewolves... But no tufts of fur?" He checked the floor around the cage again in case he had missed something. "If something broke out of this cage and a fight had ensued, there should be at least some shred of fur. There's nothing, sir. Not so much as a hair."

"This int' a clean up op, Glass. It 'ent easy to do our jobs when I've got your 'ousekeepers tramplin' all over our evidence."

"Neither is your whinging."

"Well, now you know how we feel." Quill interjected from nearby, though Harcroft countered,
"Pratt is right to speak up when…" As their supporting colleagues also berated each other between Departments, Edwin's eyes narrowed.

"I get that ye got the tip into yer own pretty little hands, but that 'ent gonna help us now when we need to know facts and sweep this place with a toothcomb." Pratt continued.

Glass was unimpressed, though he knew Pratt was fundamentally right. If they had now declared this the scene of some crime, then they would have to pull back.

"You have yet to ascertain that a crime has been committed here, from what I see." He spoke in a low voice. "A muffled, abandoned venue, contained magical activity, blood yes, cage, yes, but what's the crime, Pratt?"

He stepped away, barked orders at a few of his Department who were underfoot, sending them away, back to base. The aurors around them were calling out their evidence finds, and for the moment, Glass honoured Pratt's wishes, and stayed out of it.

"Glass! Owl here from Level One." He rejoined Quill and her assistant in the middle of things, extending his hand to receive the envelope. This wasn't likely to be good news.
"Don't you love the smell of Departments working together?" He asked them both with a deadpan tone, ripping open the envelope.[1]

1.	I'll have to figure out what this is, if anyone has any bright ideas PMe on my Ignan acc!

The item from Level One was smallish and identified in a purple envelope. It had been delivered by a snowy owl who was perched on a high rafter, unhappy to be in such a chaotic smelly place.  Inside the envelope was a piece of the Minister's stationary folded in thirds.  There were no marks to indicate it classified or private. It was simply addressed to Edwin Glass.

Glass,

I'm sure you three[1] have the situation in Birmingham well in hand. But things have become substantially more complicated and I'll thank you all to endeavor to be at your most flexible. I'll be brief: the muggles have taken note of a rash of disappearances from their own community as well as two or three horrific maulings they've attributed to dogs. I gather you've already made the connection. I'll be meeting with the other Minister tonight and I require a full report before then.

Pass this along to the others.

P

1.	She's referring to the three respective heads of Levels 2, 3, and 4

Adon arrived at his appointed time. Having covered the last all-hours emergency, he was not expected to report sooner, unless absolutely needed.

It appeared he had not been absolutely needed in Birmingham, for when he arrived--the place already bustling with the industry and vigor that the Government was--almost never--known for.  Ah, the taxpayers would be so proud.

From the sounds of it, Pratt and even Harcroft were getting down to an Auror's usual line of business retorting defensively towards Catastrophes.  A finely-tuned chorus that Adon had come to know better than he would have liked chirped back their protests.  Adon took it all in a moment, eyebrows raised before cracking a long-suffering smile in the direction of Glass.  Keeping the source of his amusement ambiguous.  Though, if Adon'd been a betting man (or--if Adon could have found someone he could make the bet with, acceptably), he'd have put money on Glass and Quill's bureaucratic prowess to win the day.

"You have yet to ascertain that a crime has been committed here, from what I see. A muffled, abandoned venue, contained magical activity, blood yes, cage, yes, but what's the crime, Pratt?" Glass seethed before disappearing to read a letter.  Adon frowned, suspecting that the contents of that letter might languish along with the tip if he didn't willfully insert himself now.

Adon knew that if he was to reach any sort of success in London, he'd need to first get in good with his supervisor, Pratt.  But, the way he saw it, he was a temporary supervisor, and there were already swarms of Aurors falling over their feet to protect their leader.  He was fine.  Besides. Pratt was practically impossible to get in good with, anyhow.  Adon's job then could be downgraded from defending to merely corroborating.  It would also help him with his larger objective.  The way he saw it, he was--far as he could tell--the only Auror thus far attempting an active outreach to other offices. Which was the Minister's express wish, and therefore, could not reasonably debar him from accessing information that he wanted.

Onward and upward, then.  The dual-edged blade:  "It's a valid point, Glass, but even aside from your Whistleblower's statement..." he paused here, pleadingly, eyebrows raised expectantly, "which usually is sufficient grounds to launch an investigation, you don't need to have concern on the validity of our investigation.  Blood--at the very least, strongly indicates assault. Even if no victims have been forthcoming.  Additionally, the cages are of a size that the would reasonably lead towards a violation of the International Care of Magical Creatures Act... And the presence of magic in the room--which I can see that has already been caught by both Departments, makes that link clear."  Such as those forbidding large creatures--centaurs, dragons, hippogriffs--to be restrained and displayed without the proper documentation.  "I can do a check, see if this location has any permits for public display."  He pulled out a notepad and jotted it down.  If he'd learned from the Dementors case, if he was to adequately document everything--even as action items and notes began to mount and pile--he'd need a little external help.  This pad of paper was his brain, now.

Adon was determined: he was going to damn-well out-document and out-bureaucrat the lot of them.

Feeling confident, Adon moved slowly towards Glass and Som.  Pratt had mentioned a tip, or a whistleblower. That was interesting.  Usually those tips came through Level Two's Ombudsman. Or at least they did in Jerusalem.[1]   One thing that put him at a disservice, this bouncing back and forth between countries: Adon didn't have the opportunity to learn the finer lines of distinctions in various legislations.  "So this a qui tam?" he paused, calling over to Pratt with false innocence:  "Did we get anything on that?" He knew from Pratt's response that he was just as irked as Adon felt that they were in the dark.[2] He wondered if Glass would be obliged to share--if not by some procedure or other, than by this interdepartmental focus that seemed simultaneously to open doors and bring things to a grating halt.

1.	Let me know if you want me to tone down the government-ese, here.  I may be extending too much from my Government, too, but I am loving this procedural stuff!
2.	A qui tam suit is a whistleblower case, typically in which a whistleblower, who draws attention to a violation of law, can benefit from the results of prosecution--such as receiving a portion of monies recovered or fines incurred.

Adon's words to explain why the place was a crime-scene regrettably fell on deaf ears from the Head of Level 3 as he read, though his fellows from the same Department were probably paying far more attention.

The owl from level one was from the Minister herself rather than one of the many aides and senior advisers. To be at your most flexible did bring forward a mental image of doing strange contortions for exercise, but the thought passed quickly.

He passed the owl to Quill, top lip curling as he huffed.
"Muggleworthy better already be on this, or there will be trouble…." He was about to carry on when another owl arrived, this time from their own Department, the Squib Network had reported in a Muggle who had come to the local hospital with unexplained injuries - cuts, walking wounded, but suspicious enough for the squibs posted there.[1]

"So this is a qui tam? Did we get anything on that?" Eleor was back again.
"Not necessarily." Glass snarled, irritated at Level 2's persistent interference. He met eyes with Quill, who seemed to be no less approving of his keeping the source quiet. "You may feel snubbed that it hasn't come via Level 2, though considering the source, it's hardly likely he'd have come to you willingly. From what I heard of late, some of your team have been chasing him over tentative witness statements that claim he was at Ilkley." He shot a vicious look in the direction of Andromeda Gamp.

Edwin abruptly extended the owl from the Squib Network contact, and pressed it into Adon's upper body as he stepped closer.
"Rather than going out of your way to persuade everyone whose bollocks are bigger," he spoke to Adon, staring at the recently returned auror who seemed to have bigger boots than he should, "why don't you go and do your job and follow up this lead."

Glass let go and headed over to Pratt, barely drawing a pause between the two, aiming to cut Eleor off from retorting.
"The Minister has informed Raynor, Hollow and I that the pattern of attacks has reached the concerns of the Prime Minister. Don't give them more to theorise on before the Muggleworthies up the game on the cover stories. If this turns out to be a direwolf, mass obliviation might be too late on the witnesses."

1.	This is the muggle who did fight Hannah in werewolf form - he sustained injuries, but nothing life threatening. If anyone fancies hopping off to interview them, you can consider the attempt to obliviate them by Lawrence did not work very well.

Really, Edwin Glass was quite fortunate that in Adon's realm of Cares and Worries, this obscure case--however significant, nefarious, or far-reaching--was the least of his worries.

Which meant that he only had so much wrath allotted for it. 

In fact, there was a smug sort of satisfaction in the fact that, thus far, Adon seemed to have annoyed Glass much more than Glass had annoyed him.

Even if, he reminded himself pointedly, it had not been his intent.

A merry side-effect, then.  Surely at cross-purposes to getting information, but he'd mull that over in his time apart from the cranky desk officer.  Adon summed the man up and had absolutely no doubt who's "bollocks" were more significant--but didn't feel the need to point this out any more than he felt the need to prove it.  The teeth-curling and snarling then did not really signify much more aside from a major irritation--and slight smarting of pride.  He'd think on that later, too.

After an overly courteous bow, Adon clicked heels and turned away with a military precision.  The salute--which was reserved to those fellow-soldiers deserving of acknowledgement of service--was withheld.  But the civilities were not.  He knew a dismissal when he heard one, and though he knew he did not answer to--and was therefore not obliged to take orders from--Glass, he did know who he did answer to.  Adon was in the process of cutting across to Pratt when, to his amusement, he noted Glass charging behind.

Adon gave a placid hand-wave, allowing Glass to cut in front.

Glass' brusqueness also had the advantage of forcing Adon to listen to the following conversation.  A shame.

Once his permission was secured, he'd happily take Glass' lead.  It was practically an olive branch--though Adon would never let him know that.

Perhaps, a more fitting acknowledgement of his offering would be an in-person visit afterwards. To thank him. Properly.

"Take photos of this." Andromeda told one of the photographers from Level 2. When she looked round, Auror Eleor and Glass were having an argument. None of the aurors liked Glass. She tried to hear what they were saying. Eleor was really clever, but Glass was a Department Head. He loved to get Aurors in trouble. When he shot a vicious look at her, and she heard Ilkley, she knew immediately where the tip off had come from. As the two wizards were ranting about balls she stalked to Eleor's elbow.
"Adon, he got the information from Lawrence Musgrave. Me and Warrington questioned him about Ilkley last week." She realised what day it was. "He will be reporting for parole again today. What's the betting he will not appear?"

Adon's eavesdropping was brought to a halt the moment Andromeda Gamp managed to sneak up upon him unawares.  There was no doubt about it: she must have earned expert marks on her stealth abilities. 

The Israeli turned swiftly at her spoken words, instinctively leaning in--sensing the urgency.  Stealthy and sharp.  Handy to have around.

"But why," Adon broke in, "guard the source, then? Musgrave is known enough..."  Unless Glass suspected the Aurors would be immediately dismissive, with an ex-con as the source.  Adon was beginning to grasp the depth of the entrenched resentment between offices.  It seemed an unnecessary measure to take, withholding this information.

But at least someone on Level Two seemed privy to the information.  "Only a fool would be willing to take that bet."  Adon turned away from Pratt and Glass a moment, to guard their conversation.  "Did Musgrave give any indication about, well, knowing this when you questioned him?" Likely not--or if he had, Warrington and Gamp hadn't picked up on it.  "I would have expected him to be forthright with it--in exchange for terminating the parole sentence." He frowned. "Unless he was actually more than an observer, and more of a participant.  Than--even coming cooperatively--he would potentially face additional charges..." the dread of every parolee.

"Musgrove's a strong flight risk.  You and Warrington--you are his parole officers, I take it.  Any thoughts on where he might go?" They would know how best to find him.