Afternoon. Solomon's Office.


He wasn't entirely sure which of his assistants had cleared the office desk to set tea things at this hour but Solomon Carstairs didn't spare much attention to this as he entered the room - on his heels, some of the Aurors who had been sent the memo for this impromptu meeting. A witch had been sent up from Magical Creatures earlier in the day, bearing news about a werewolf boy having not turned up in his cell for the full moon last night. The Werewolf Wing had followed the account by implying that Zel Trumble was likely latest in what they'd initially suspected to be an inactive fighting ring for sufferers of lycantrophy.

"Shut the door." Solomon ordered as he moved behind his desk, standing restlessly as one of the wizards complied. "Nothing leaves the room. I see this in the Prophet, they didn't hear it from our department."

He picked up a crumpled folder laying between the assembly of fine china tea cups and tiny sugar bowls. There were only two sheets inside: an official notification of failure to attend a full moon, signed and verified by witnesses, and a note from the Capture Unit offering their services should Trumble fail to turn up today.

There had been no reports of Werewolf attacks in or outside of London.

Solomon handed the folder to Edward Pratt, leaning against the desk and upsetting the silver teaspoons that tinkled against glass.

"Zel Trumble. His sister launched an inquiry after it turned out that he had not made his cell appointment yesterday. Aside from his disappearance, there are no other signs that this leads back to September's Werewolf Ring. We've been informed that the boy had gone to meet a friend that afternoon but we don't know where, or who. It could be nothing. I doubt it." He wasn't throwing anything to chance. Not anymore.

It felt like the space beneath his skin was caught in fire, every time the Leaky Cauldron was mentioned. Or the contaminations. Or the Dementors. Solomon had stepped into this position as department head at what was clearly an inopportune moment to be chasing political influence.

But he didn't have an interest in that. Zephyr was hardly worth being saved. What was at stake, had been at stake since the instalment of his predecessors even, was their reliability as safeguards against injustice. Like with Wolfgang Storm: the moment they thought they had something within their grasps, it eluded them like smoke. Right in their very courts.

Perhaps he ought to stop listening to the Wireless late at night.

"What I need to know is how much effort we're going to put into finding a stray werewolf." This was directed at Pratt, of course, though he eyed the rest of those who'd been pulled into the wide office. Solomon had to keep in mind that they were still expected to have made progress in capturing those responsible for more 'popular' crimes.

Not many people would care about Trumble going missing - besides werewolves themselves, family members. Not after the poisonings and the dead children.

---

His tie hung loosely from an unbuttoned collar, black shirt sleeves roughly rolled up to elbows. One small attempt at appearing professionally dressed was that the shirt had been tucked into his black work trousers. Red auror robes had been left in the Head Auror’s office as the Head Auror only wore them when necessary. He certainly didn’t class necessary as an impromptu meeting with the Head of Department who only 6 weeks ago had been one of the aurors addressing Edward Pratt as Sir. Yes, he was older and had been an auror for longer, but Pratt had been his boss. Now it was awkward considering their history.

With the newly acquired folder in his hands, Ed didn’t stand on ceremony. He dropped down into a chair by the desk, crossed his legs and opened the folder to read its contents. It seemed as if everything that could go wrong in the country had done since Ed had become Head Auror months ago. He felt like he was playing catch up, desperately trying to prove himself do the job as well as Raynor. He stayed late into the night, fielding complaints from a new wife, young kids and an ex-wife.

"What I need to know is how much effort we're going to put into finding a stray werewolf." Carstairs addressed Pratt and bright green eyes shot up as he considered.
“You’re the boss.” the gruff response came in the thick Yorkshire accent.  Then he shrugged, eyeing the information in his lap. “He’s no longer a minor. That could have prioritised the case. I’ll put as many as ye want on it but we’re run ragged anyway.”

It had been a few months since Hayes had begun her auror training, but these sorts of meetings made her feel like it was her first day in the department all over again. She was always late to them, for starters. It seemed she always missed the memo as to where and when they were happening, or mistook which meeting was occurring that day. Today's meeting was no exception, though the door had been shut for only a moment when she sheepishly snuck in. She headed to the back of the Head's office, running her hand through her short hair. These meetings always made her feel embarrassingly uncomfortable.

Was she meant to contribute? Should she sit, or stand? She usually opted to stand, in case anyone needed her to fetch something. She might as well be an office dog, as it felt like the vast majority of her tasks were fetching quills, files, and other miscellaneous objects. Hayes was more than happy to pay her dues, so to speak, and appreciated that her behaviour of (occasional) tardiness, sleepiness (though she was going out less on nights before work these days), and lack of taking initiative wasn't doing her any favours. But that didn't mean that she didn't care. She just wanted to get in the field already, actually do something instead of learn about it. Training felt more like school than it did anything else, and Hayes was struggling to keep herself focused.

She struggled with this now as she half-listened as the Head of the department run through today's crisis as she drummed her fingers on her thigh. While she herself had not done much in her short time here, everyone else sure had. It seemed there was a disaster every other week at this point. Poison, dementors, explosions... it was something different every day. Apparently today's incident had to deal with werewolves. That wasn't exactly new, though. Hayes might not always be paying the closest of attention, but she wasn't oblivious to the so-called werewolf 'games'. Listening Solomon and Ed speak, Hayes was relieved that she was not in a position where she had to prioritise which situations to deal with first. How did a person decide which crisis was the most important, or which lives should be saved first? The morality dilemma made her head spin, and she tried to push it aside.

When Ed turned the problem of how many people to put on this missing werewolf case due to the force being run ragged back to Solomon, Hayes couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow. She wasn't run ragged, just tired of running errands. She could volunteer. Not that she knew the first thing about where missing werewolves went, or how to go about finding one.

Migs leaned against a wall, one leg lifted and bent at the knee with the sole of his boot against the wall.  The new trainee had only just started his training when the office changed leadership, so the new head of the department appointment had had little personal impact.  Besides, only a few would attempt to willingly participate in office politics as a new trainee.  He'd been forewarned of the inevitability but hoped to avoid that mire as long as possible. 

It had been a busy couple of months, laced with many opportunities to observe while moving about the office on various errands.  Assimilating, both to the office environment and cultural differences was an interesting challenge in itself.  Any school would be different than most work environments and dynamics between students were usually simpler, though they loved to pretend they weren't.  The British Ministry of Magic was quite different than Salem, let alone a small reservation in rural North Dakota.  Inevitably, the cultural differences had guaranteed more than a few regrettable comments and mistakes. 

This meeting was probably providing opportunities for some more. 

"Why does him being a werewolf make a difference?"  Migs shrugged his shoulders.  He remembered Trumble from his year at Hogwarts during the tournament; not only had they had classes together but Migs remembered him being the topic of some of those SAWS meetings.  At least when the lot of them weren't bickering amongst themselves.  He, personally, believed the matter should be treated as seriously as if it was any other kid, but he knew personal feelings would make a poor argument. 

"In fact, looking at it practically, isn't a missing werewolf a concern in itself?  Seems there's more potential for political or discriminatory overtones than with most disappearances.  Especially, given how touchy the subject of werewolves at Hogwarts seems to be." 

Impromptu meetings never meant anything good.  There was hardly a moment in the auror’s office where they were all summoned together to let them know something brilliant had happened. 

So, Archer braced himself – while also letting his mind wander to the many catastrophes this could be.  Would it be a recent case development or something from the past that threatened to come back and bite them at any moment?  There were almost endless possibilties.  Thankfully, he knew one thing it probably wasn’t… the catastrophe of the day went to St. Mungo’s and blessedly the hatred had not been redirected toward their office.  Granted it was only a matter of time before it became another some other imagined failure for the DMLE. 

It wouldn’t bother him so much if it were true, but the longer he did this job the more convinced he was that the truth mattered very little in print.   He knew they were doing their jobs.  Shame about public perception, but he’d get over it.

Aurors don’t usually have thin skin for a myriad of reasons. 

Apparently, this meeting joined the ranks as one of them.  Lost student, werewolf – sensitive subject, given recent history.  Archer had been involved on the periphery – seemed, as a senior auror, he was now moving into a supervisory role.  He was familiar with the case, had checked in on it. 

His eyes slid over to Ed and he regarded his expression.  He had a point – ragged was putting it mildly, but transitioning his eyes back to Carstairs.  Archer had worked abductions before, and the aftermath. 

When Nadge spoke up, Archer raised his eyebrows. It was important for an auror in training to be updated on what was being said in the world and its happenings.  It wasn’t a small deal in the larger wizarding world.  Being judicious in his speech, Archer let a breath out from his nose.  “Considering the happenings surrounding the Storm trial, you would be correct.”  He wasn't necessarily sure if the details would even line up, but it was a place to start. 

“I don't mind doing it,” he said slowly, nodding as if he was convincing himself with every word (he was).  “I’ll take a trainee or two,” he shifted his eyes from Nadge to Ed, “kill two birds with one stone – I’ll give ‘em a start on stealth and tracking.”  By the end he'd almost convinced himself that he was glad to do it. 

"In fact, looking at it practically, isn't a missing werewolf a concern in itself?  Seems there's more potential for political or discriminatory overtones than with most disappearances.  Especially, given how touchy the subject of werewolves at Hogwarts seems to be."

Well if Hayes was going to stand there with her mouth shut, at least Migs would represent the trainee aurors with a remark conducive to discussion. Good on him. Migs, and most of the other aurors-in-training, made her feel old. There was something inspiring about an age group that had their whole life in front of them. Of course, Hayes was only 23 - not 93. She also had time to make something of herself, even if it seemed like the 'productive and successful member of society' ship had sailed away without her years ago. But that wasn't Migs' fault. She shot him a grin and nodded her head in approval.

Hayes had graduated before the anti-discrimination of werewolves society began at Hogwarts. What was it, SAND? SAD? SAWS, perhaps. Werewolves had never had it easy, had they? Being discriminated against for something that was so clearly out of their control was tough for an on-looker to swallow. She could only imagine what it was like to actually be inflicted with the disorder, or be related to someone who was. Tricky, sensitive stuff. Selfishly, Hayes was glad she had never had to think about it all that much. She didn't like to think about how she had done little to help their plight. Maybe she'd talk to Migs about the matter after the meeting.

“I don't mind doing it... I’ll take a trainee or two, kill two birds with one stone – I’ll give ‘em a start on stealth and tracking.”

Archer's remark snapped her out of her thoughts. She turned towards him and, without giving it a second thought, responded.

"I can go, if that's alright?" Hayes said, somewhere between a statement and a question.

Of course.  This was a missing persons case, Adon thought wryly.   When his brother had gone missing nearly a year ago; when his father had gone missing 15 years ago, somewhere in Jerusalem, this very conversation had taken place: What I need to know is how much effort we're going to put into finding them.

Adon had only been back from his leave of absence for two days.  This wasn't exactly the situation he'd wanted to be coming back to (all things considered, Adon was not entirely sure he wanted to be coming back at all), but it could be helpful. Healing, even.

Still, Carstair's approach was not one that sat right with him--not because the decision was a poor one, but because it touched upon the Auror's strained relationship with this British magical society he was readjusting to.  Adon understood it: Level 2 had come under close scrutiny, and wrongfully.  The public's expectations had somehow morphed into the ludicrous expectation that Aurors, that law enforcement, were meant to, like diviners, anticipate and apprehend criminals before the crime.  That a handful of crimson cloaks could prevent all bad things from their world and that, if they did not, they were falling short of their duty.  That was not how law enforcement worked.  He looked around at his colleagues; they knew all this.  They faced derision. And yet they worked tirelessly, and worked long hours, for a public that expected to be safe, at little cost or effort of their own. 

It was infuriating, and it was getting in the way of recovering this boy.  The quickest way to disseminate information to the public--who in turn could consider doing their civic duty to help their fellow man--would be to circulate the picture of Zel Trumble about.  An entire nation could keep an eye out, if they circulated it to Muggle circles, too. But Level 2 was now petrified--unable to move forward in a way that may be fitting--to avoid once more standing as cannon fodder.

"If I may," Adon said, looking between Castairs and Pratt for tentative permission to speak, "I could take some rudimentary measures to rule out, or identify, foul play--particularly with the werewolf concerns still in the public's mind."  Sure, the media was occupied at the time, but there was nothing stopping them from resurrecting the past demons of Level 2 to heighten readers' anxieties about present cares.  Adon had read enough, had heard enough reports on the Mungo's poisonings to realize that it did not take long--maybe a line or two--for the media to connect dots arbitrarily, to gesture back towards other fiascos: the Fawkes Day explosion, for instance.

"I could check for traces placed on any of his belongings; some way they had followed him.  Speak to people who might be able to guess at who this friend is.  If there is any correlation between being a werewolf and his abduction," he looked at Nagde with a slight nod, "and there may not be--it would still be very important to determine how these individuals are being singled out and identified as werewolves.  Access to the registry from an inside source... gathering information from close family and friends... A day or two."  He didn't know how much this idea would be appreciated by Pratt; he'd been off for the better part of 2 months at a time when the Corps were spread thin.  Still, his return left them with one more person at their disposal to look into things--like this.  "If nothing is immediately apparent from that, we can change tack from there.  But," he said gravely, "at the very least, if it does signal a larger issue, it can be said we took--" a brief pause as Adon edited himself, "--action."

Adon could not say immediate action.  Missing Persons cases were almost doomed from the start, caught in a paradox: you could not consider the person officially missing until a certain numbers of hours--in this case, 24--had passed and then, of course, the chances of recovery of an individual diminished exponentially after the first 24 hours. 

The months following the Storm trial had been a blur to Omari. He had, somehow, ended up tied to his desk for most of the time, writing reports and passing along orders. It was the worst part of being an Auror, and yet he had somehow welcomed the change. The turmoil in his and Johann’s friendship had took a bigger strain on him than he had thought it would, and his drinking had gotten worse. It had almost been a release to just sit behind his desk and push papers.

So, without realising it, it was suddenly December and his mother had started bickering him about plans for Christmas. It had even been snowing in London two days prior. Diagon Alley had started to look like a perfect Christmas card, and Omari had even taken to wearing his Re’em fur cloak who his ex-boyfriend Lucas had given him a long time ago. With that golden cloak slung over his crimson robes, he almost felt like Father Christmas himself.

The memo for the meeting at Solomon’s office had come as a blessing. Something to do to get away from the mountains of paperwork that adorned his desk. He had grabbed his wand, not going anywhere without it, and had headed to the new Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement’s office along with a few fellow Aurors.

Omari had been somewhat surprised of the choice of Solomon Carstairs as the new Head, seeing as there had been other Aurors that Omari had felt suited the role more. Archer for one. But Omari, being the team player and true Hufflepuff that he was, wasn’t one for saying so out loud. Solomon was his new Head, and Omari would act thereafter.

Entering the office Omari helped himself to the tea and biscuits without a second thought, as Solomon and Ed started discussing the case. He had heard bits and pieces of it, but never gotten the full picture, but as the mentioned of the Werewolf Games came up his interest was peaked. He had been there when Johann had brought his bleeding father into St. Mungo’s. He had also been at the trial. This was close to home. Even if it turned out to not be related.

“I’m in,” Omari said, his dark Scottish voice filling the room. “Need to stretch me legs.”

Solomon shot their Head Auror an unimpressed look at his gruff reaction - understandable considering the pressures put upon them but neither helpful nor reassuring this afternoon. He had tried his best in the past two months to avoid the awkwardness of their circumstance, roles having shifted so suddenly in the wake of the explosions, but it was easier said than done. Being accepted by the rest of level 2 seemed like background noise to recent crimes. He was already made tired by them.

"Very generous of you Pratt," the older wizard muttered dryly but followed the cue and took his seat across the desk to consider the other Aurors from behind gleaming tea cups.

He ignored Nagde's remarks for the time being, mildly irritated. All they needed to know as a group was that a Werewolf had gone missing and there was a chance this was linked to September's issues. Politics he could handle in his own time. Their job was to find Zel Trumble in one piece if he hadn't yet been...

No. Never mind that possibility.

In spite of Pratt's blasé attitude, there were still players stepping up to plate. Solomon relaxed back into the chair and drummed his fingers impatiently as Archer spoke up. Good man.  “I don't mind doing it. I’ll take a trainee or two," the senior Auror offered - it was almost immediately followed up by Hayes eagerly chipping in.

"If you want it, it's yours." Solomon met Radley in the eye. "You may have to work Christmas day for this." That was technically the great risk here. Working through the holidays was never preferable (and in fact more common than one would realise) but almost always necessary. If there was to be no rest for the wicked, neither would there be any for the DMLE.

Adon and Omari joined the conversation, which seemed to be getting more traction than Solomon had expected from an overworked staff. He eyed the latter critically as tea was poured, biscuits munched. At least someone was getting something out of that mess of tea things. Ignoring it, he cleared his throat to catch their attentions once more.

"Two teams. Take Nagde with you, Eleor. Turn the Trumble household inside out if you have to. We need to know how and why anyone would risk taking a registered werewolf with enough family to kick up a fuss over it. If you can figure out which of the boy's friends he was supposed to meet, I'm sure Archer would be beholden for it." Solomon crossed his legs, ankle on knee, pleased by Adon's awareness of the media but not particularly inclined to be dolling out praise.

They were racing against time and some unknown spectre with either a personal or species-wide grudge against a boy wizard who was hardly old enough to merit the former. A glance at Archer as he smoothly pushed on, avoiding pauses of hesitance. He couldn't afford that.

"You can have Hayes. And Omari -" Solomon continued to ignore the tea drinking wizard. "- if his legs need stretching. I won't mince words. We need to find something before this hits the Prophet. Even if it's a corpse. Another thing...." his thin lips twisted into a grim scowl. "Muggle missing persons. Muggle victims in several of the ring fights, if that turns out to be the correlation. Adult muggles. But so were the werewolves."

The search for underaged missing persons was generally more urgent in both realms, Solomon knew. He almost wanted this to be connected with the Werewolf fights in September. If it were then they'd have another resource of sightings. A better chance than this needle in a haystack.

For the past few weeks Adrianna had been back in Wales regarding her usual station there, but now that nothing had been happening of late she'd returned to London only to find an impromptu meeting. Well, she'd been out of the loop for long enough.

The changes in leadership hadn't fazed her much. What was turning her somewhat reticent to contribute to the discussion now was the topic of werewolves. How ironic it was, especially considering she disliked them but had plenty of knowledge on dealing with them.

"What I need to know is how much effort we're going to put into finding a stray werewolf." That was not good on first go, but she listened rather than speak up. China had had very different ways of doing things. She had much to learn with the British take, which was more tolerant of them. Her ears and eyes observed Eleor and Radley, quietly agreeing with what they were doing.

"I can try to help track and see if there are any adult Muggles missing," she spoke up from her place, finally. "Muggle areas and news aren't a problem for me, and I can cover a lot of ground and talk to people. Squibs especially, I'm sure they'll . Is anyone checking up with Hogwarts in case his closest friends are involved in some way, or may have information? If not, I'll volunteer for that too, head up to Hogwarts with someone to get info."

She remembered her time in China when they were hunting down the werewolf that had been murdering people. If you're going to cover the search for a werewolf, it'd better be extensive or you're going to pay for it in lives had been the warning of the Chief Auror. Though Trumble was young, she doubted he'd be able to control himself if someone decided to let him loose.

The idea of working on Christmas was inconsequential as far as Archer was concerned.  The holidays were always fun with the Radley clan, but they could be overwhelming and Tamis wouldn’t complain.  Plus, Archer would much prefer to pull in something good for the office.  They needed it.  He figured Solomon was on the same page as far as that was concerned and he nodded. 

“S’fine with me,” he shrugged and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.  The rest of the conversation was volleying around him.  He listened intently, gauging ideas and the shift of the meeting from ‘let’s bring attention to this,’ to ‘let’s make a plan.’  Archer wasn’t even ready to do that yet – he’d need to review, he’d need to consult the aurors who had played a pivotal role in the werewolf games. 

It was just natural that he started to develop a plan… or at least the outline of one.  He’d need to know who was working with him.  And Solomon seemed to read his mind, because they were assigned and they were even given a nugget of an idea. 

Archer was content with the decision.  The outcome was that he’d have Hayes and Warrington, and that was a decent team.  Omari was younger, but still experienced, and Hayes was one of the newbies.  Archer liked the green ones, they had enthusiasm, got coffee, and for the most part followed directions.  He regarded Xin with a cautious eye. 

“I’d ask,” Archer looked around the room, nodding to Adon and Xin turn, “that whatever information is found be given to me,” his gaze shifted to Ed and then Solomon, “If we could keep the information compiled in one place, it will make everyone’s job easier.”  He was interested in keeping things together, organizing, and knew where his strengths were in order to get the case wrapped quickly and without a corpse (or more) on their hands.

Migs nodded towards Radley when the senior auror confirmed his suspicions and offered to let him tag along.  He was careful to keep a cool and calm exterior that could camouflage his excitement about being able to delve into something that didn’t primarily involve fetching and filing.  Correction.  It would probably still involve a fair bit of fetching and filing but that fetching and filing would be done in the field - not the office.  An important distinction to any young auror eager to prove their mettle. 

Unsurprisingly, fellow trainee Hayes seemed eager to do the same.  Migs cast his comrade a grin before turning back towards Carstairs.  He nodded when their assignments were handed out, acknowledging Eleor and ignoring the warning about working the holiday. 

Though his path didn’t cross Tumble’s too much, he could think of a couple of Hogwarts students he’d spent time around.  Who knew if that would be useful but, it was something he might be able to contribute.

Adon was impressed.  If only the press could see them now: Carstairs and Pratt worked as a team, doled out directions, and got things going.  First things first, he had his own orders: "Two teams. Take Nagde with you, Eleor."  Adon made eye contact with the young American.  He hadn't had enough chance to connect with this new batch of trainees just yet, but from what he knew of Migs, he had a predilection for leather and sunglasses that Adon approved of.  Migs, who was sitting--conveniently--just by his side got a flash of a smile from the Israeli.    Carstairs felt the need to elaborate--somewhat unnecessarily--"Turn the Trumble household inside out if you have to."   

Restraint really wasn't a problem, Adon acknowledged.  Though, on the balance, he usually preferred a softer touch to the victims' families.  Particularly having been in a similar situation for the better part of last year.  Adon knew how nerves could be raw and exposed, with even the most innocent of questions and best of intentions.  Still, Adon would not have wanted the investigators assigned to his father's and brother's cases to have tiptoed around evidence for fear of incivility, either.

"I'm sure Archer would be beholden for it."  This kept getting better and better.  Biting his lip and raising his eyebrows significantly towards the Senior Auror from across the room, Adon echoed the words "beholden." He smirked, shaking his head, just so that the older man could appreciate the depth of his soon-to-be gratitude.  Audibly, Adon agreed to Archer's request for information readily, eyes flashing mischievously: "Happy to make your desk our central repository, Archer."  In the past, Archer--and Jonas, really--had taken delight in shuffling paperwork his way.  Archer none-too-recently with that Corpus Inversus investigation.  If Archer now wanted to compile the full report and weekly briefing docs, well, all the better.

And finally, to top it all off for Adon: Muggle Missing Persons.  Canvassing with Muggles and direct contact in Muggle areas. Adon gave a vigorous nod, showing his emphatic appreciation.  Moloch, this group was good--and it was good to be back.

While he hadn't said anything so far, Mordecai had been one of the first few people to attend. A kidnapping, a werewolf, a Hogwarts student, no less - but his office generally wasn't called in to deal with such matters. Or rather, on the vague basis that every crime was a misuse of magic, which wasn't a far stretch. Besides, he had a role to play within the MLE.

Carstairs would not voice any concerns about the IUM being there, at any rate, but just in case Mordecai was not one of those who reached out for the tea and biscuits. He sat there watching the proceedings, barely moving apart from his eyes and breathing. His gaze had followed the aurors from one to the other in silence, while considering.

It would be good if he could obtain information. Initially he had his doubts about having all information centralised, but that had been a kneejerk reaction that cooled down fast. No, Radley was right. "I agree with Auror Radley," he spoke up. "We need solid records for investigations and possible trials down the line, and of late many of the records seem fragmented and a puzzle to decipher. No one's fault, just that the information from previous cases," he was letting them know he'd read the files despite not having any stake in the case, "have become spread out so thin that administration can't sort out later without taking time we don't have."

Mordecai casually shifted into a more comfortable position in his seat. Now he'd established that more than just the Aurors were involved, it was time for some actual contribution. "If you're going into Muggle areas, I'll most likely lift some restrictions on the Statute for you all, in case someone gets belligerent along the way. I'm sure you all know your restraint, but there's only so much we can do if the media is ready to pounce on us again." He glanced around the table and then to Carstairs. "Sincere request from me. Don't draw unwanted attention. That's all I want for this place to function without vultures circling overhead."

Solomon rested his elbow on the arm rest, head propped up in his hand as the group sorted through the given orders and embellished with further suggestions. They were all admirably sharp in spite of the festive being so close that one could practically smell the mulled wine and roast turkey at the very thought of Christmas dinner. If Trumble had been taken - instead of running away for Merlin knew what - his captors chose a good time of the year.

Crowds, tourists, families getting together. Who would miss another young wizard or two if he came home late? Even one as remarkable in appearance as this one.

"Muggle areas, yourself and anyone with the time." Solomon glanced up at Xin and sat up straighter to absentmindedly pick an iced biscuit off his desk. "I'll be in touch with Hogwarts." The witch, he knew, might be Gryffindor alumnus but she had also worked with the Chinese Ministry of Magic and they weren't well known for their attitude towards Werewolves. She'd been avoiding their Werewolf cases for months, ostracised in Wales.

If information got out of Level Two, which it usually did one way or another, he didn't want Xin's name strongly attached. People speculated, made ridiculous presumptions that would only confuse public portrayal in the coming months. Solomon bit into the biscuit before looking to Archer and Pratt once the IUM had spoken.

"Excellent. In agreement, then. All information to Radley and his team -" he swallowed, sugar and flour scratching dryly in his throat. "- and restrictions lifted if we need it." Solomon wasn't altogether persuaded of Hollingbury's reasons for being in the room but at the least it would preempt hesitation for doing whatever was necessary to find the missing student. The sincere request was particularly uncalled for considering how much of the media they had been taking into account whilst mapping their tactics.

He ignored it coldly and pushed back his seat to stand, brushing crumbs off irritably now that he realised he had joined Washington by giving in to the temptation of biscuits. "Naturally we all have other obligations throughout the holidays but I trust you all to be in touch when necessary. I'll take my updates from Radley or Eleor." Solomon glanced at the two Aurors in questions, the slightest of polite smiles against his disgruntled countenance. "Dismissed."