Janus Carrow[1] was looking less chipper these days. The young man carried himself with rounded shoulders that had become noticeable in the past month. Mortimer had observed but said nothing of it to Grimm. Carrow was barely a man, he would recover once the research was finished. He knew the risks on joining the Department the summer past, this would not be the worst he would experience in his short life as an unspeakable.

That February Monday morning Mortimer’s presence in the chamber with the dementor was deemed unremarkable by the unspeakables. He was known to appear without invitation and clear intent to observe and ask questions. Sometimes there appeared to be no motive other than to ask questions and satisfy a personal curiosity. This was the fourth team he had visited by ten o’clock, taking stock of the Department in a solitary tour. In silence Mortimer gazed up at the dementor beneath the suspended net, hounded by patrolling patroni at its tattered cloak edge. He could hear its rattled breaths beneath the echoed movement of the unspeakables around it.

This morning the wizard’s wrinkled brow seemed eased, as if he had shed a decade over the weekend. Had it not been for the fact the Gamps were observed as a couple outside of the Ministry, one might have hazarded a guess that Mortimer and Lyra had shared a romantic valentines weekend. Truth though, if one asked the old wizard, he would have agreed that they rather had[2]. Two days had culminated in the best research subjects of his lifetime and Mortimer had arisen that morning sleep deprived but euphoric.

“Grimm.” Gamp greeted softly, hands clasped behind his back over his longcoat, “Appraise me of your progress since mid-January. I anticipate we are no nearer to returning a soul to a body, but did you further your field research following the Hogsmeade incident[3]?"

1.	12 December 2010 Go Fish
2.	12-13 February Ten Below
3.	15 January A Denser Darkness

By contrast, Gamp tread lightly up to him, self-satisfied. Smug.  I anticipate we are no nearer to returning a soul to a body... As though it were an understood presumption that Alberic had been unsuccessful.  And yet he wanted an update all the same.

Well.  Wasn't he just the invasive species, digging in.

No, Alberic corrected himself, mentally.  He supposed that was what he was.  In due time, in due course, he might be able to push Gamp further and further out of these affairs.  As soon as he gained a firm enough foothold.  As soon as his roots ran deep enough so as to choke the man and his infuriating smugness out.

Resentment, Alberic registered as an afterthought.  If he didn't know better, he would have said that he was becoming a man of feeling.  Abhorrent.  Alberic had noticed a greater surge of them--with his own experimentations.  It had all started with Hogsmeade, really... that first-hand feeling of euphoria that came not only with successfully extracting a memory from the Dementor, but from feeling the memory itself...

Alberic had been hiding a growing fear that, in time, he--like a Dementor, or like every other human--would be servile to the base sentiment of wanting or worse still, needing to feel happiness.

But he would be damned if he opened himself up to a discussion of feelings with Gamp. At least not his.  No, those were kept in a private log, for his own use. 

"I did," he said simply.  He supposed Gamp would require more than that by way of explanation.  With a light sigh, he said, "As you know, my particular brand of Legilimency has been productive in extracting a stolen memory from a Dementor. I've put further thought and research into what has heretofore been mere conjecture: connections between memory-capture and soul-capture.  Naturally, Obliviation--or memory control, such as Pensieves--and Legilimency could become key to understanding these creatures and replicating their effects."

But that was his own area of interest.  It was necromancy, plain and simple.  Taking a soul.  That was not what he had been brought here to do.  "While progress in this area has been significant," he said, drawling out the last word with subtle emphasis, "establishing control over the Dementors continues to be elusive.  To some degree, you can control them, I suspect, as you can any base creature: through gratifying their desires--the need to feed... Of course, that is likely how they are being controlled in the first place.  The attacks are likely precipitated by an offer of nourishment..." He glanced sidelong at Gamp.  "But as to how a wizard might communicate directly to a Dementor..."

He paused.  "Perhaps if I had permission to search for the wizard controlling the creature..."

Alberic was not accustomed to asking for permission. It was uncomfortable and demeaning. 

Mortimer listened carefully to Grimm’s account, though outwardly his expression was still strangely optimistic for a Monday morning. Gamp was not ordinarily expressive of any great pleasure while demanding accounts. Appreciative on occasion, thoughtful, but almost always wearing a frown of deep consideration. The happier mood was potentially more unsettling - a reason to be pleased that their Department Head was not expressing. Mortimer knew Grimm would not find it at distraction, he was ultimately a professional and in control of his emotions. That was why he had seconded Grimm to the team for this research. His skills were perfect.

”.. could become key to understanding these creatures and replicating their effects.” Mortimer raised both eyebrows and exhaled a little audibly at the suggestion. It wasn’t a direct observation of any of the agreed hypotheses, but not discounted in suitable research by Gamp’s measure. Understanding the non beings in any sense was useful data.

”… establishing control over the dementors continues to be elusive.” The positive edge to Mortimer’s mood evaporated for that moment and he became quite still, gaze fixed on the dementor held before them. "Perhaps if I had permission to search for the wizard controlling the creature…”

“If you can get any sense out of him.” Gamp remarked, seemingly unconcerned at how this comment landed with Alberic. “Do you feel you would have more luck with it than Level Two?” Mortimer asked, “They have as yet been unsuccessful at capturing the source. That is, if they are correct on who they suspect it is.” He drew his shoulders back, the hint of knowing smile returning to his features. “Musgrave isn’t clever enough to act alone.”

Almost immediately that he said it, Mortimer took a pace away from Grimm and began a slow walk across the room, hands clasped behind him, under the guise of examining the dementor and the work around it.

Gamp's expression, his posture, his tone, all belied a preternaturally good mood.   Alberic examined the man with scrutiny.[1]  Slight smile, head held high, light step.  His posturing was a simple call-and-response to some sort of stimulus.  Whatever the stimuli had been, however, it had clearly distracted the Head, who was now  ill-prepared him for the far more significant news:  the world-changing progress Alberic had made in theoretical necromancy--one that hinted at concrete mechanisms and logic to the most occult fields of knowledge regarding nature of life, souls, and being itself.  Because of this distracting sort of happiness, Gamp had only been capable of transmitting minimal output: raised eyebrows, a thoughtful sigh, and moved on.

Alberic's jaw tensed.  It was vexing.  This is why such things--happiness, joy, glee--were to be avoided in the thinking man.  Your faculties, your own mind, were suddenly wrestled into submission by an emotion so fickle that pictures of baby animals might conjure it, and sensations such as 'hanger,' might just as easily dispel it.  Alberic had not expected Gamp to fall victim to such trifles.  He could not be insensible to the significance of his findings; Alberic was certain he was not.  It was this that made the cool reception so ...

It was not that Alberic was disappointed in the response.  That was an emotion nurtured by petty, trifling humans who needed validation.  It was merely that it was unexpected.  If, Alberic told himself soothingly, Gamp did not want to know what Alberic had to offer, it was all just as well.

“Do you feel you would have more luck with it than Level Two?”   Gamp had seemed in an unnaturally good mood; by the time he had asked this, the mood seemed somewhat dissipated, but Alberic could not help but wonder at this last question: was this Gamp, showing a sense of humor?  It was a base move, if so.  If it was (and even if it wasn't) Alberic would let his displeasure be known.  Gamp was now comparing his competency to Level Two?  That was not to be borne. 

He let the silence span uncomfortably for several seconds, his eyebrow arched, his expression one of contempt.   "...Obviously."[2]

"Lawrence Musgrave," he began, idly, "You seem acquainted enough with the man." He spoke knowledgeably enough of him.  "I am not; he is not one I have known to lean towards necromancy."  The premiere necromancers in the country he'd seen--he'd come across signs of them: conjured ghosts, exorcised demons... Then again, the work with the dementors, the work on the Three Broomsticks' roof, was not the typical signature of a necromancer, who tended to prefer the cloak-and-dagger melodrama over the sort of brutal honesty of that fire, of those Dementors.

What could be his motivation for wanting to control such creatures? he mused.  Of course, the far more significant question, one he had asked himself since the beginning, followed: What would Gamp's motivation be in this research?  Surely not some altruistic desire to keep the public safe, to remain two steps ahead of  the wrong-doers...

How dull.

"We could offer what Level Two could not.  I have very little interest in apprehending; far more in better understanding.  It may be that our motives and theirs--Musgrave and his cohorts, as you say--may not be at cross-purposes."  He gave a slight shrug of his shoulders.

1.	As part of his research towards understanding emotions and memories--particularly positive ones--Alberic has been researching Affect Theory.
2.	Rickman tribute.

"You seem acquainted enough with the man. I am not; he is not one I have known to lean towards necromancy."

"Once I was." Gamp informed Grimm, "And no, he has not the refined skill you do which led you to this post." A compliment. He was definitely feeling abnormally pleased this morning in wake of the weekend. He did not doubt it might be distasteful to his colleague who did not partake in emotions. He preferred the mysterious, brooding looks and silence around those who did engage in human qualities. The lack of it was meant to unsettle others, and allowed clarity in research.  Ordinarily Mortimer appreciated it and respected it.

"We could offer what Level Two could not.  I have very little interest in apprehending; far more in better understanding.  It may be that our motives and theirs--Musgrave and his cohorts, as you say--may not be at cross-purposes."
"You may very well say that..." Mortimer spoke in a low voice, making eye contact, "but I couldn't possibly comment." He maintained it a moment before looking back up to the dementor.

"The replication of effect -" Mortimer pursued, doubling back on the conversation now his moment of merriment was passing, "localised depression, memory capture, soul capture, you say?" He frowned, "You have this documented I take it? What of reduction in magical potential?"


The line of inquiry was interrupted by an arrival.
"Ah, yes." Mortimer replied, as if suddenly absentminded. Without another look to Alberic he turned and headed towards his secretary. "We shall pick up where we left off soon, Mr Grimm. But good work, very well done." And like a forgetful school teacher, the Department Head moved on.


End