Monday mornings were meant for catching up on paperwork while plied with a great deal of coffee. During his ten months as Head Auror, Ed had established a routine for the start of the working week. Despite regularly being in the office at weekends (much to the chagrin of his children and new wife), Ed liked to think of a Monday as the start and therefore the day he harassed the aurors for overdue reports and updates. It was every Monday morning that Edward Pratt finally understood why Tamis Raynor had grown so irate with him when he was one of the tardy aurors with the horrendous handwriting.

If Edward had an assistant, the whole process would pass by in a breeze and he’d be able to get on with the far more interesting parts of his job which seemed to be fewer and farther between as of late.

One can imagine Edward’s irritance when he received a paper aeroplane memo demanding he meet Carstairs at 9:15 that morning. No explanation. No please. Not even written by the man himself, but by his young assistant.

At 9:15, Pratt was stood by the coffee pot pouring himself a fresh cup.

At 9:20 he was informing Auror Dean Bailey that his recent report was shocking and had been used to shove under a leg of his desk to stop it from wobbling.

At 9:30 the Head Auror strolled past Maya Elliot with a large mug of hot coffee in one hand and a half eaten croissant in the other. He knocked for a moment with his foot before pushing the door open and stepping into his boss’ office. He didn’t wear the usual crimson auror robes. Instead Pratt was simply dressed in a pair of thick black boots, black trousers and a black shirt tucked in with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. There was no tie and his top button was undone.

“Only just seen the memo, boss. My assistant would have put our mystery meeting in the diary but apparently we can’t afford to hire her.” Was Eddie bitter? He was merely irked. He pushed the door shut behind him but didn’t move to sit down, unsure of how long he’d be expected to stay or if the boss even wanted him to sit. "Or him."

Solomon looked up from the mostly filled parchment he had been working on all morning, spectacles slipping down the bridge of his nose as the Head Auror made a predictably tardy appearance. In all fairness he had expected Pratt not to arrive for another ten or fifteen minutes, so this was something of an improvement. He lowered his quill and pushed his correspondence aside, sighing heavily at the mention of an assistant.

Even if they did have the funds... no doubt Pratt would burden the poor creature with all of his paperwork.

       "...we can’t afford to hire her. Or him."

"How very progressive." Solomon remarked dryly before indicating the chair across from him and gesturing at the door; it swung shut with a muffled thud. "Now if only you could apply that enlightened mindset to all manner of beings. I've received an official complaint against you, Pratt."

The department head pushed his chair back to stand, mostly with a mind to stretch his legs. He moved to one of the cabinets and picked up the first folder off a stack of them that had been threatening to topple over. "I must say, even for a man of your social skill... rather stupid to go about tossing slurs at a crime scene consultation."

He returned to the desk but didn't resume the seat, fixing the other man with a quizzical look. "Seems to have been unprovoked, as well. Not to mention the witnesses. Any personal grudges against vampires then?" Solomon was not an unreasonable man - he could make exceptions for Aurors to be transferred to different cases if their prejudices were rooted in violence. A relative sucked dry. A lover scarred by werewolves.

The complaint had been preceded by a note from Tristan Vaillancourt pertaining to DMLE behaviour[1] last week. Somewhere between the casual note and the filing of an official statement, the Being Division Head of level four had supplied Solomon with the suggestion of diversity training for Pinn and Pratt. It was exactly the sort of nonsense issue he wished his aurors could avoid.

"I'm afraid there's no ignoring this, either way." Solomon let the folder drop on to his desk, shrugging. "It's on your Ministry record now."

1.	Drink Them Dry - 18th March

It wasn’t the news Pratt expected to hear. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure why Carstairs had called him into the office with such little notice. To be told that someone had made a complaint irked the wizard who decided that to prevent himself from making a comment he’d regret, stuffed his mouth full with the rest of the croissant.

Jaws busy with the pastry, Ed lowered himself into the suggested seat and placed his coffee cup on the desk for a moment. It wasn’t until the question about vampires was asked that Ed understood where such a complaint had come from. The insult about his social skill rolled off his back; Pratt had had far worse.

For at least 30 seconds, Ed continued to chew, mulling over his response as his bright green eyes made contact with his boss’.

“Hm.” The croissant was finally swallowed and Ed’s mouth suddenly felt somewhat dry.
“That vampire consultant…Is this complaint on par with 80-year-old Mrs Fruplesworth’s complaint that I was too flirtatious while interviewing her as a witness or are you actually taking this one seriously? I’d love to know what I apparently did,” perhaps now was the time to actually be polite to the boss, “Sir.”

For a brief, incandescent moment Solomon thought that Pratt was seriously contemplating the ramifications of his actions and was indulging in a bite to stall the inevitable apology that would follow. He was wrong. Of course he was wrong. Perhaps he ought to begin setting the standard a bit lower.

The older wizard finally took his seat, flipping open the folder with a sigh. He adjusted his spectacles as calm blue eyes ran over the typed up complaint.

"Let's see..." Solomon cleared his throat and began to speak in a dry, unimpressed voice. "You started the consultation magnificently by asking it it was bring a beast to work day[1] and then you managed to improve matters by ending it with a slur commonly used against vampires."

Not wanting to repeat the repugnant word himself, he slid the sheet from the folder across the desk and turned it around. The words blood sucker[2] were underlined at the end of the testimony. Sol sat back in his chair, hands moving to its armrests as he gave his Head Auror a weary look. Surely Pratt was not so dense as to brush off the consequences of these words.

"We are taking this seriously, I'm afraid. Is there a particular reason you chose to antagonise the vampire consultant who has offered his services to this case? And Mr Gamp, whose sensibilities are similar?" he was genuinely at lost, where this aspect was concerned. "Mr Vaillaincourt is a resource we require."

1.	Ref.
2.	Ref.

There wasn’t any avoiding the situation. With a frown, Ed took the letter and sat back as he read it. The further he read through, the more irritated he became. Tristan Vallaincourt was about as sensitive as Ed’s 7-year-old daughter. Possibly the vampire was more sensitive than Ed’s ex-wife had been when heavily pregnant and severely hormonal.

Unfortunately, it didn’t matter how the vampire was overly sensitive. He’d made a formal complaint and the things he claimed Ed had said were true. How was Pratt to know he was talking to an uptight moron with a vendetta against aurors? How was he now expected to work with the pasty creep?

Fortunately, logic didn’t abandon Ed in his irritation. He knew what he needed to do to stop the situation from getting any worse. Regardless of how much he wanted to query the ridiculousness and point out he was a dark wizard catcher and not a vampire hunter, Ed knew his boss wouldn’t appreciate the sentiment.

“So when do I need to apologise?”

          “So when do I need to apologise?”

That was exactly what Solomon wanted to hear. He retrieved the letter and returned it to the folder as he spoke, pleased that there would be no additional fuss about disciplinary action. Auror Pinn's grumbling had also been described in the complaint but she was more compliant (and in some ways more sensible) than Pratt. And she didn't hold the title of Head Auror.

"As soon as possible. I expect a written apology - hand written by the way - on my desk by the end of today. It will go on your record before being delivered to Vaillancourt." Sol looked up with a smile, more at ease than he'd been at the start. "You can apologise in-person whenever convenient."

It was peculiar! To begin one's work week on a cheerful note, encouraged by the other wizard's willingness to cooperate.

He slipped out another sheet from the folder, glancing at the text only for a brief moment. "Ah, yes. I've signed up you and Nadine for level four's diversity training programme of course. Usual blather but it should satisfy all parties concerned."

The department head made a small note at the bottom of the parchment, signing his approval, before handing it over to Ed. Merely more paperwork to be filled out; small mercy compared to a serious charge against the department. They couldn't go about hunting a vampire murderer with those equal rights groups on their heels every step of the way.

"You will avoid aggravating the consultant any further," Solomon continued smoothly and removed his spectacles; it was not a request. "Otherwise, I'll hand the case off to someone with a finer tongue. Just keep it strictly business."

Carstairs visibly relaxed. Ed visibly stiffened at the expectation to both apologise in person and in writing. The fact the whole ordeal had to go on his ministry record was too irksome, the main reason he agreed to comply so quickly. Pratt knew their department’s position in the public eye. It would cause a horrendous amount of backlash if it were found out they’d brushed the complaint under the carpet. Besides, Carstairs was stunningly dry and rule following. There was a reason the two didn’t get along.

Things went from bad to worse at the mention of diversity training for himself and Pinn. Ed’s expression darkened as he reached forward, taking a sip from his coffee mug to occupy his mouth as he considered the words and the change to the situation.

It had taken Ed a couple of months to become accustomed to taking orders from the wizard that had, until November, called him ‘Sir’. It still didn’t feel comfortable and he was more than aware of Carstairs’ dislike. It was why Ed tried to curb his tongue as he listened to the demands and threats.

“The apology I get, Boss, but diversity training?” He tried not to sound as irritated as he was. “I pissed of a sensitive vampire, fine. I won’t do it again, I’ll play nice, yadda yadda. That training programme is a horrendous waste of department time.”

Pratt's objection, petulant as it was, seemed a fair one. If they could all simply be reasonable adults, then the diversity training would be unnecessary: Ed would apologise to Vaillancourt, Vaillancourt would accept, and then life might carry on in a merry way. But they wouldn't be in this entire situation if everyone had acted like reasonable adults in the first place!

Solomon trusted vampires about as far as he could throw one and yet he'd rather die than admit it out loud.

"You pissed off a Ministry employee whose services you needed," he corrected his Head Auror with a sigh before sitting forward in the chair to give him a pointed look. "And he'll know you're only apologising because you're being made to. The training provides peace of mind - to both him and level four."

It certainly absolved Sol of any blame, should Pratt decide to put his foot in his mouth again. He'll be seen as having tried his best to correct the other man's small-minded ways and a decision to demote him of his title would be supported by both Ministry as well as the media. An elegant solution solution if it ever came to that.

"Now run along," Solomon made a gesture to dismiss Pratt. "Arguing this point is rather a waste of department time, if you ask me."

Throughout the past few years, Pratt had worked hard on minimising his temper. He’d always been quick to snap, emotional and angry. The personal attacks on his family and parents a couple of years ago had made matters worse. But now he sat in Carstairs’ office with the quill pushing stuck up bastard trying to cover his arse and dismiss the Head Auror like a naughty school boy.
"Arguing this point is rather a waste of department time, if you ask me."
“I didn’t.”

“This gets the protestors off your back.” Ed didn’t move from his seat. Instead he leaned forward, resting elbows on his knees. “You look like you’re doing your job by sending the mouthy Head Auror to the Vampire Cuddle Group when all I did was say what most living ministry employees would be thinking. How are we supposed to trust this Vallaincourt?”

Aurors, by nature were distrusting. Ed had a hard enough time believing his 12-year-old son let alone a blood sucking vampire that was probably eyeing him up for breakfast.
“First I hear about this vampire is when we’ve had the first notable vampire murders in a couple of decades. Gamp brings him on the scene and suddenly we’re supposed to trust him because he’s been given a title of consultant? What’s to say his advice doesn’t lead us on a wild hippogriff chase around Alaska?”

Vampire Cuddle Group! Merlin, he liked that. Would have to remember it to share with Sandy the next time they played at billiards - surely a miscreant at Witch Weekly could use that in an article. Just their sort of flippant language.

"You have not been assigned to investigate Mr Vaillancourt." Solomon replied mildly, shrugging at the childish outburst taking place in his office. "And they are not, from what I understand, all in collusion with one another. Wizarding society has spent hundreds of years hunting down their species - perhaps with as much vitriol as we were hunted in the sixteenth century."

The older wizard paused, hands meeting over the desk as they had many times since he had assumed his position on this floor: a demeanour of rationality and logic. " I understand if you can't sympathise with their victimisation but you are not an exception to the fact that we must all mind our manner around them."

"The consultant has been vetted by level four. Trust them if you can't trust Vaillancourt," he cleared his throat. "If you have any actual evidence to support your claims of suspicion, your thoughts on the matter will be entertained. Otherwise... I have other business to attend, Pratt."

Solomon Cartsairs was asking for a good old fashioned punch in the face. Edward was wishing so much that that could be the new version of a handshake between the pair. It would make their meetings so much more bearable.
Unfortunately, they didn’t even shake hands and Carstairs spoke to his Head Auror as if the wizard was there to do his bidding. Ed only hoped that the quill pusher would get bored soon and move on to annoy another group of hardworking people.

Other business to attend to…As if Ed didn’t. He’d been going about that other business when he’d received the memo demanding he drop everything and attend a meeting with the sour faced boss.

“And I’ve got criminals to catch rather than ridiculous courses to attend.” The wizard stood, irritated. He grabbed his coffee of the desk and headed to the door. “Apparently your desk job has given you memory loss about that part of the job.”

Solomon glanced up as his Head Auror left, door shutting behind him. Pratt had no rejoinder to the fact that he'd insulted a marginalised group - it made one wonder if perhaps he knew that he had done something wrong, and did not seek to defend himself against it. There was no denying irrefutable evidence. Mistrust was understandable after all. Careless speech was not.

Especially after the two Vampire hate crimes[1] that had happened over the weekend.

Not that Pratt had been working on those days. The man was about as self-aware as a brick. Solomon closed the folder on his desk, setting it aside to receive Ed's formal apology later. He pulled out another file from a drawer in his desk. The work day would go on. Perhaps he might have some tea.

1.	Malice May Attack It - 19th March And it's Coming Closer - 20th March