After the lunch hour


Solomon stood before his desk, cup of tea in hand, eyeing the two folders that surrendered their portents to him. His spectacles were slipping slightly down the bridge of his nose and a oft-visible wrinkle had appeared between his dark eyebrows. As a rule, reprimanding Aurors was about as straightforward as trying to a discipline a cat. Foolhardiness was the sort of trait that had to run its course - usually until there came a situation to force its eventual maturity.

Lawrence Musgrave was such a 'situation' for Berkeley Cavanaugh.

"Maya. Will you have them in now?" the department head called over his shoulder, glancing at his open door.

The visitors in question would be the two Aurors present at the reported incident, and the Head Auror who oversaw their corps. Solomon turned around as his personal assistant began to show the witches and wizard in - he smoothed his expression down to one of expectancy.

A personal explanation of events was necessary; and Sol was curious, divorced as he often was from the day-to-day lives of every Auror in the department.  They were lucky the papers hadn't heard of any dramatics just yet, or they would run away with their imaginations.

"In your own time," he muttered dryly just as the door shut.

Habitually, having to come into the Head of Department’s office for Carstair’s to take a chunk out of one of his aurors, Pratt protested. He handled most acts of disclinplinary within the auror office and simply kept his boss in the loop. Having the other wizard get involved irked the Head Auror who wanted to be left to get on with his job.

This afternoon, however, Pratt had not protested about. This was different to one of his aurors putting a foot wrong with a criminal or a witness. It was different to someone over stepping the mark. This was about their most wanted sat in a holding cell. Nothing would be allowed to mess this up, Pratt was determined.

He’d been in the process of submitting his own report on what he, Musgrave and Harper had discussed in the cell when Cavanagh and Gamp submitted their own to him without pushing. He’d informed them it would still be passed to Carstairs. There was little choice in that matter because this, for once, undoubtedly went over his head.

But the Head Auror had insisted on being in the room. So, after a brief glance between the red robed witches, Ed followed Sol’s assistant into the office. Today there was none of his jovial expression. Ed’s face was hard, professional. He was, obviously, still dressed like the rogue official with no tie, top button undone and white shirt sleeves rolled up. His auror robes were still hanging in his office in the Auror Headquarters.

"In your own time," Carstairs told his aurors.
“In detail.” Pratt added as he moved further into the room and leant himself against a bookshelf with his arms crossed, relaxed. The two chairs at the desk were left for the witches, should the boss bid them to sit.

The past few days had passed in a sort of somber fog. Berkeley had gone home the day of the 7th after the incident had happened. Or rather she had left the office. She had lost control, something so rare she had surprised even herself with her actions. She felt overwhelmed by all of it and instead of returning to her small Diagon Apartment she had traveled to her family home where her father lived. She had made him meals and sat mostly in silence. The former Auror could tell there was something wrong with her but hadn't pressed. Berkeley never had been one to express her feelings. Nor was she one to seek help. The comfort of his presence had been enough. She knew once she returned to work she'd be facing some reprimand or another, another rare occasion. However she wasn't going to run from it, in fact the first thing she had done when she came to work the following day was consult with Andromeda to ensure the report had been filled in and filed properly.

Her porcelain features were devoid of emotion as she entered Carstairs office. Not being on active patrol that day she wasn't wearing her crimson robes and a freshly pressed dressed shirt and pencil line skirt added to her professional appearance. She held her hands over her lap and looked at Pratt for a moment. The Head Auror certainly wasn't pleased with the situation. She didn't blame him. She wasn't exactly the type to give him trouble.

"I know Lawrence Musgrave. I was just a child when I first met him. He worked with my parents, here, in the Auror Corps. I hadn't seen him since the war." She looked at Solomon directly, no attempt at hiding, "When I heard he was apprehended I went to go see him. My choices were personal, emotional and purely unprofessional. When provoked by the prisoner, I reacted. While I didn't cast any spells outright my wand reacted to the emotional outburst and set off a distress signal in close quarters to the prisoner."

Andromeda stood to attention in the office. She prided herself on doing her job properly. Andromeda waited for Berkeley to talk first. Andie swallowed. She had to be fair.
"As far as I witnessed Auror Cavanaugh did not go into the prisoner's cell." She told her boss. "The hit wizards were not there. Auror Cavanaugh said they were not there when she arrived. They should never leave their guard. They came back after Cavanaugh left Sir." Andromeda looked at Berkeley. She looked back at Solomon. "Although Auror Cavanaugh had her wand I do not believe she cast a spell on the prisoner. She had to stay because the prisoner was not guarded. She did her duty. As soon as I relieved her she removed herself. The prisoner was distressed. But he asked me to tell the auror he was sorry. I used my patronus to protect the prisoner from dementor influences. I administered hot chocolate. Sir. If Auror Cavanaugh had not visited the prisoner would have been unguarded for even longer. Sir."

He paced, for a short while, as Cavanaugh spoke. Solomon did not look directly at the two young witches but glanced at them every so often to note that he was listening. A quick nod to affirm her testimony. Gamp began hers shortly after, at which point Sol decided to finally sit at his desk and face the pair of them.

They were good girls. And better Aurors; dependable and not the sort who lost their tempers easily.

"Thank you," he smiled briefly at Andromeda's final Sir and drummed his fingers against the surface of his table. "That was... mercifully concise. Your actions, while unfortunate, seem to be very reasonable to me. Don't they, Head Auror?"

Solomon looked over to Pratt, gesturing conversationally though not requiring a real response. "But formalities are formalities. Auror Cavanaugh, you may consider this meeting to be a formal reprimand. It goes on the record. You will also, of course, not be allowed in the vicinity of the prisoner for as long as we have him."

Or he'd get hell from Miss Graves - Musgrave's attorney. Hardly surprising.

"Can I expect there to be no further infractions, or muddling of the personal and professional?" Solomon sat back, considering the two of them thoughtfully. He was done speaking for now and glanced at Ed to see if he had anything to ad to the query.

"Yes Sir." Andromeda said. She felt sorry for Berkeley. She was a good auror. It was not their fault all their adult role models from childhood were bad. Andromeda hoped she never turned out like that. "We have plenty to do without Musgrave. Right?" Andromeda asked Berkeley. They should go and do that now.

Cavanagh seemed to be getting off lightly as far as her direct superior was concerned. Lawrence Musgrave had been one of their most wanted for many months and to blow it when he was in their hands would be unforgivable. Lawyers already did everything within their remit to get prisoners off or make their sentencing lighter, he did not need accusations against one of his own to help make Graves’ job any easier for her.

Ed said nothing in response to the suggestion that her actions had been reasonable. He was otherwise inclined. Instead he remained silent, watching the scene before him with crossed arms.

Cavanagh would be permitted nowhere near the prisoner; it was a given. Only a select group of people could see him and the security was tight. They were not letting this one go before he could pay for his crimes. They needed a bloody win.

“…or muddling of the personal and professional?” Carstairs finished.

Pratt decided now it was his turn to speak.

“If there is,” his voice was low with none of his usual warmth, “I will personally stand you in front of the minister and the wizengamot to explain why you jeopardised our biggest operation this year. You are not fucking this up because of personal grudges or you are not fit to be an auror.”

No matter which way you sliced it this was a giant black mark on her record. It didn't matter that Carstairs had been gentle and understanding. The reprimand was still official and it would be going in her permanent record. For the first time in her near decade of being an Auror, Berkeley had done something wrong. This wasn't just a minor slip up either. She had jeopardized one of their biggest cases. If Musgrave got off because of her unprofessionalism, she'd never forgive herself.

She opened her mouth to agree with Andromeda when Eddie finally spoke up. His words cut deep but truth be told it was the sort of reaction she had been expecting all along. Carstairs could be diplomatic and understanding, it was his job as head of the department. Pratt, on the other hand, was allowed to make things more personal, to let her know just how bad she could have made things.

She turned to face the Senior Auror. Her porcelain features still emotionless, "Understood." She spoke simply, "if we may be excused Gamp and I do have work we need to catch up on." As she began to leave she turned back to Pratt, "and I promise you Mister Pratt, if this ever happens again, I'll hand you my badge personally."

Andromeda kept her face straight. Musgrave was going to Azkaban. The only way he would not make it would be if he was dead first. Berkeley would not fuck this up.

When they got outside Andromeda touched Berkeley's elbow. "Do not ever hand in your badge." She softly said. "You are better than they know. Family is the hardest." Andromeda was still second guessing her judgement. Her father's actions would always eat at her. "And it may well be the plan to keep us distracted with our guest." She gave Berkeley a sharp nod.