A month after The Foulest Creatures

---

"Good of you to come, Grimm." Mortimer greeted his colleague from the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he was a familiar sight in his long tailored coat, dress trousers and cravat. He would not have been out of place in an undertaker's parlour. Despite it being mid-morning in the Department of Mysteries, all seemed quiet, and they were alone at the end of the corridor.
"I have something I thought would be of interest. Will you join me?"

Mortimer gestured to one of the doors and led them through the maze beyond it at a steady walking pace, where they didn't pass another soul for all of their travels. It was as if the whole Department was deserted that morning, though the reality was entirely the opposite. The temperature began to drop rapidly as they passed through a dark, varnished door, and through into a chamber. Strange blue light shimmered, three patroni danced about the room, commanded by the wands of Unspeakables at the foot.

Clasping his hands behind his back once more, Mortimer looked from Alberic to the dementor and gave the slightest of satisfied smiles.
"It's been here a month, captured in Nottingham, monitored around the clock. We have been studying it closely." His eyes had returned to Alberic, examining his reaction to the dementor. "Their patterns have been different to those observed before - they have attacked dark wizards, funerals. We have a way to capture them, but the Minister does not want us to reason with them, so, we have to consider the options to starve or placate them through other means. However, I would be very much more interested in a way to end what interpretation of 'life' these have. Britain is in need of a cull, Grimm, and I anticipate all you're lacking of late is a test subject."

Alberic raised his eyebrows.  This was an unexpected development.  The room was cold and silent.  Soothing--and even the Patroni had a calming effect, casting spectral shadows with their cool light.  Alberic would have very much wanted this to be where he worked, rather than being sucked into haunted homes, abandoned attics, and sundry other locations on the hunt for poltergeists, errant ghosts, and rogue spirits. 

No, he would have much gathered do this.  It was, in fact, what he had been wanting to do for some time: an earnest study of Dementors and their properties.

"I am impressed," he said--his flat tone half sounding it.  It was the most genuine thing Alberic had said all day.  Of course, Alberic had secluded himself in his office--and hadn't said much of anything.

Still, for the Department of Mysteries to have kept such a thing a secret--Well.  He supposed they collected secrets, but this particular thing was certainly something he thought he would have noticed.  That Alberic was looped in at all was a great compliment--not that Alberic would acknowledge as much.  But Ministry-approved tests came as near to a carte blanche, and Alberic needed to keep the fire from his eyes to hide his excitement.

Their patterns, Gamp had said.  Alberic knew enough about Dementors to know that while the often functioned as a pack, there could be distinct differences among groups... He did not doubt that Dementors could turn on each other, though he'd never had the opportunity to see that come to pass.  Perhaps in time.

 "I agree with you.  A cull does sound in order.  Has this Dementor displayed any abnormal behavior?" he looked over to the other Unspeakables curiously.  "Do you know the last time it has fed?"  If they could determine that, much could be done. Starving was an interesting notion.  Alberic was much less interested in the Dementor for the Dementor's sake--and much more interested in seeing if the work they accomplished--pulling out and storing souls--could be replicated, or isolated, or if, even a soul "stored" in a Dementor could be released or transferred.

How was a soul consumed? What process took place to break it down?

"It seems to me--from what I've managed to piece together--that a lot of it comes down to their feeding. It drives their behavior--or, at least, used to.  And it is likely the means of controlling them.  It also occurs to me that you--having kept this Dementor successfully for over a month might prove a good example.  Rather than allowing them to continue as a group, is isolation an option?"

He approached the Dementor, peering up at it in appreciation.  They really were magnificent, regal creatures.  In a way, he admired their forthrightness.  They didn't dally--they went straight to the core of a being and took it, if that was what they wanted. 

He had questions--so many questions--and his mind was beginning to light up with possibilities, but he turned placidly to Gamp.

"I agree with you. A cull does sound in order." Grimm confirmed, and Mortimer enjoyed the look upon the other wizard's face as he studied the dementor. His instincts told him he had made the right call to bring Grimm down here, to join the team.

"Has this Dementor displayed any abnormal behaviour? Do you know the last time it has fed?" Mortimer extended a hand to one of the unspeakables who approached, drawing beside Alberic clasping a logbook with details.

Mortimer waited patiently a few moments while the unspeakable pointed out the recent interactions with the dementor in terms of allowing it to feed without a patronus alight, observing whether it would feed, how it would react. They backed away as Mortimer took a step forward.

"It has become more resigned to it's situation, from what we can see." Mortimer confirmed and nodded to Alberic's observations of the feeding.

"Isolation on a scale to the point we have would be costly, but the thought had crossed our minds.

"Grimm," Mortimer addressed, fixing the wizard with a sharp look, "You have been formally second you to the Department." All he'd actually done from Alberic's point of view was bring him down here and show him a dementor, but Mortimer knew he wouldn't be obliviating Grimm that day, which was the only way out if he dared refuse.

"The others will brief you formally on the specifics of the experiments. I would like you to lead the team." He paused a moment, gaze flickering to the other unspeakables who turned ever so slightly to regard them both. "A position has become available." His face twitched ever so slightly, referring more to the 'feeding' element of the log, which had been, tragically, one of the unspeakables. He wasn't at St Mungo's. He was being kept down here. It would be no good if the body were kept too far away.

"Merlin rest his soul." Mortimer uttered, raising his eyes to the dementor who had consumed it.