Continuing from this thread.


Fauna walked quickly down the halls of Level Two, her mouth set in a satisfied line, her gaze forward. She made a mental list of all the things Musgrave had told her as she rounded the corner, past the DMLE squad office division and through the doors of the Auror Headquarters.

It was still somewhat early in the day, inching toward late morning. She smelled coffee wafting from the break room. Someone had left a platter of pastries in one of the open cubes, and there were even a few crumbs left. There was a chance Trevelyan was here.

She peeked into Eleor's cube as she walked past. Nope.

As she neared Trevelyan's cube, she tilted her chin up to see over the wall, her blue eyes wide and hopeful and framed by dark fringe. Those eyes narrowed ever so slightly at the sight of the man standing in Auror Trevelyan's cube.

Eddie Pratt! Head Annoyance!

By the time Fauna's face came into full view, she had schooled her features into a neutral expression.

"Auror Pratt," she nodded respectfully, hesitating in the entryway of the cubicle. "Have you seen Trevelyan? I, uh, just talked to Musgrave." She paused. "He had some interesting insights about yesterday."

She glanced at the spare chair against the cubicle wall, which she'd plopped into many a time before. Trevelyan was easy to talk to, but she often felt like a fool in front of Pratt, and found him difficult to predict.

Where was the bloody leprechaun’s chocolate?

Pratt swore the bugger had hidden it away from his previous ‘top secret’ hiding place that Eddie knew about. But he was hungry and it was impossible to keep chocolate or anything nice in his house when the kids were over. Everything vanished. Four children were way worse than having dogs, they ate everything in sight. They ate him out of house and home. All he wanted was chocolate and even Paddy had turned against him!

"Auror Pratt,"

Bent down, Ed jumped and smacked his head off the desk above him, swearing loudly. Why on earth did people have to sneak? They were in the office, no need for sneakiness. That could be saved for the field.

With a frown, the Head Auror straightened himself to his full height, rubbing his head and turned to eye Flora Blake. She wanted Paddy. Of course, she wanted Paddy, this was his grubby little cubicle that appeared to be a chocolate free environment. Blood Paddy.

Flora started to explain and Ed’s expression suddenly turned cold, displeased.
“Who told ye to do that?” Definitely not the Head Auror.

Fauna winced at the knock on Pratt's head. What was he doing on the floor of Trevelyan's cube? She wasn't going to ask, didn't want to know.

Her stomach sank at his cold look. She hated that look. It meant that his disappointed look was soon to follow.

"Bailey," she answered, her eyebrows drawing together in slight worry and confusion. She had thought the Aurors had let Pratt know.

"He had to follow up with IDREAD and the fog and several other things," Fauna explained. "So he asked me to find out if Musgrave's, um, vision of the dementors yesterday was real."

She'd handled it.

She didn't say that, but she wasn't going to apologize, either.

What was supposed to be a quiet week had quickly morphed into something else.  He had barely made it home the night before following his visit to St. Mungo's, and it felt as if he'd hardly had time to fall into bed before the alarm went off and he was up again to pull his notes together into a semblance of a briefing before meeting with Carstairs early that morning. 

Right now, the burnt coffee and the box of pastries that some anonymous savior had left in the break room felt as if they were the only thing that were going to get him through the day.  Jonas headed back to his desk, folder tucked under his arm and chocolate croissant in his mouth, looking relatively chipper considering that he'd been on his feet most of the previous twenty-four hours.

Except apparently he wasn't the only one with the bright idea of visiting his desk.  Jonas blinked, swallowing the croissant in his mouth before approaching the small crowd gathering outside his workplace.

"Pratt, we have a whole break area if you want a place to bond with the trainees," he put in nicely, as he stopped behind Trainee Blake.  He looked from one to the other, his forehead creasing.  "Everything alright?"

Of course, it was Bailey. It was always Bailey. The red headed leprechaun was incapable of doing his own job properly. Pratt wasn’t happy with anyone going to speak to Musgrave, least of all a trainee. That meant that Dean Bailey was in for having his head ripped off followed by a month of desk duty.
“I see.” Pratt muttered, no semblance of his usual humour hidden in his voice. He was irked. Severely irked.

As if by magic, the chocolate hiding Irish not Irish man arrived at his cubicle with a cheeky comment.

“No.” Everything was not alright. Ed’s bright green eyes didn’t shift off Fauna’s despite Paddy’s arrival. “How did you find out if it was real, Blake?” The usual daft comments and jokey nature was gone.

Fauna stood awkwardly by the spare chair, unwilling to sit and allow Pratt to stare down at her. His expression held no trace of mirth, his voice no trace of teasing, which meant he was pissed off in a major way. Even his green eyes looked a touch cooler.

She swallowed, glancing behind her at Trevelyan, then quickly away. Normally she'd feel relieved, but now she had to explain to two Aurors, and everything she'd heard and witnessed minutes ago seemed silly under the harsh overhead office lights.

"Um, well," Fauna managed. "I talked to him. Musgrave," she added for Trevelyan's benefit, stepping further inside to make room in the cubicle.

"If I wasn't supposed to," she started, then shook her head, deciding it was too late anyway. "He told me about his vision of the dementors yesterday. He gave specific details. Like, um," she bit her lip, thinking. "They flew south from far away, a whole mass of them, excited about someone or something. Ok, that's pretty general. But then he mentioned things like hearing the horses and the sound of glass breaking. Um, a woman by the woods, calling the name Abby. A girl yelling for Calix."

She paused, glancing between the two men. "He knew names. He knew details from the lakehouse, that he said came from his connection with the dementors."

And she hadn't even mentioned the strange word yet...

Jonas looked between the two of them, rapidly trying to catch up with the conversation.

Pratt was upset.  Check.

Because Blake had...talked to Musgrave?

The Auror frowned, his forehead creasing as he listened to the details.  He hadn't told anyone what almost-Aileen had relayed to him the night before about seeing "herself" shouting for her sister near the Lilly Lakehouse.  Musgrave had seen all of this, somehow?  Jonas hadn't really been involved in the case centered on the former Auror, but he'd heard something about Musgrave and dementors...

"You mind if we all step into your office for a moment, mate?" he asked Pratt, keeping his tone conversational.  If there was some sort of connection here -- if Musgrave had conveyed something that he shouldn't have possibly known, considering he'd been locked up in the Ministry's cells -- then they didn't need to blab it all over the Auror office.  "Bit too noisy out here to think straight sometimes."

Pratt’s now cool eyes continued to stare at Blake as she spoke. It wasn’t her that he was irked with. It was Bailey and the red headed auror would be answering to it shortly. Normally the Head Auror would have given himself time to calm down, but this incident called for an angry tirade, sending a trainee to such a criminal’s cell to discuss such a sensitive topic when she knew the victim was an absolute farce. He’d have Bailey’s head for it and Carstairs was going to be dragged down to Headquarters to watch.

Jonas spoke, the voice of reason that snapped Pratt’s mind away from visions of his hands around Bailey’s neck. “Aye.” Ed affirmed and waved for them to leave the cubicle towards his office.

Once all three were stood in the office, Ed pushed the door shut behind them and moved to sit on the edge of his desk, too much anxious energy to be seated behind the desk.

Arms were folded over his chest and Ed’s gaze once more settled on Blake.
“Go on.” He wanted every last blasted detail.

Trevelyan wisely herded them to Pratt's office, where Pratt sat on the edge of his desk and crossed his arms. Though Fauna didn't really want to sit, it was even more awkward to stand in front of the two chairs, so she picked a seat and perched on it, and fiddled with the edge of her jacket for a moment before deciding to continue on with the strangest piece of information.

"Musgrave called the mist Pentrals."

Fauna paused. "Pentrals," she repeated the word, still getting a feel for it. "He seemed to get the word from the dementors, or acted like he did. He hadn't heard it before yesterday. He said the dementors, um, chased them because they're like some kind of memory, or even - he even said soul."

She thought of them like he'd described them, as voices on the wireless, disembodied entities clamoring to be heard.

Fauna was so used to Pratt's jokes that she half-expected it even at a time like this. At the silence, she took a deep breath.

"Then he had some kind of vision, right there in front of me. Dementors attacking a dog walker. I thought he was being a jerk at first, messing with my head, and then I thought - well, I sent a memo off to IDREAD just in case it's real."

Fauna glanced at the door, hoping a reply would flutter in soon. As she looked back at Pratt and Trevelyan, she thought she'd remembered to say everything, and yet she felt as though someone else could surely say it better.

Jonas listened silently, shifting to lean back against the wall as Blake spoke to take some of the weight off his leg.  Pentrals?  Keeping his expression neutral, he exchanged a look with Pratt.

Normally, he'd be inclined to play the part of the skeptic, particularly where someone like Musgrave was involved.  But as far as Jonas knew, no one else in the Auror office had heard the detail about Aileen Reid shouting her sister's name.  Abby hadn't relayed it.  If Musgrave had seen that somehow via his creepy connection with the Dementors, then perhaps this was something to look into.

"Did he tell you anything else about these -- pentrals, Blake?"  He tried the word out, glancing at her to make sure he had it right.  "You've got notes on your meeting with him, yeah?"

Notes. Oh shite, Bailey hadn't said anything about notes. She should have taken notes. Most Aurors did, just in different ways. Trevelyan wrote everything he could remember down afterwards. Eleor had a special quill. There'd even been talk of trained parrots recording everyone's words, but she was pretty sure the RCMC department was playing a joke on them, and now she was stalling.

"I was going to write it down afterwards, and then I got," she paused. Excited about possibly knowing something useful!

"Distracted."

She glanced at Pratt, gulped, and looked at Trevelyan again, "The voices he heard - a woman calling for Abby, the other calling Calix. Musgrave said that he didn't hear them again after yesterday. I'm not sure that means anything, but it seems they were strongest at that point yesterday and then," she paused again, looking curious. "Faded."

Did Pratt tell Blake to sit? No, he certainly did not.  Eyes bore into the girl even more now.

The silly girl started to reel off what Musgrave had told her as if it were plain cold fact. Pentrals, never heard before, given to him by the dementors, a vision.

Edward Pratt was sceptical. He was always sceptical.

Paddy was the first to respond, probably for the best because Ed found his anger beginning to bubble.

"Distracted."

Pratt took a calming breath, a long calming breath to ease the temper building. Who the @!”% didn’t take notes when they were interviewing someone?!

“Right.” The Head Auror said, uncrossing his arms and pushing himself up from the desk. He walked across the room and pressed his palm on the handle of a cupboard. A lock clicking softly could be heard before the doors swung open. Inside was a large shallow stone dish. With a wave of his wand, the dish floated out of the cupboard and towards the desk where it softly landed.

“In a year, you should be a fully qualified auror.” The wizards voice was quiet, him clearly trying to maintain a calm tone. “So why the @!$# are you standing there without a @!$#ing note pad containing every damn thing that Lawrence Msugrave said to you in that room?” Green eyes stared at the girl, unrelenting.

“That there is a pensieve, Blake. Yer gonna stick yer memory in there and the three of us are gonna watch it.” Now his voice began to rise somewhat. “And ye better have done this by the @!$#ing book or ye can get the @!$# out of my office and find yerself a new @!$#ing career now!”

Her eyes widened in full horror. No no no no no. This was her worst nightmare. She'd never heard Pratt swear like that or express so much anger toward her before.

She didn't know why, she didn't have a good reason! She supposed she'd thought it would be a quick interview. He'd have nothing useful to say, she remembered Bailey saying, but just do a quick check, will you, Blake? And then they were sitting in that cell and talking for longer than a few minutes and she hadn't thought to take notes. Shite!

Her chest rose and fell quickly as she stood, crossing her arms. "I - what? I'm sorry, but..."

She stared at the stone dish on the desk.

"You want me to extract my memory of it?"

That was mortifying.

"Are you serious?" Her voice lowered to a whisper as his glare said yes, he was absolutely serious, but still, she turned a wide-eyed look at Trevelyan, her one and only hope.

The girl answered back.

She had the gall to question her superior’s orders after her epic fail of ridiculous proportions in Musgrave’s cell without his permission. And now she had the utter stupidity to ask if he was serious?

“Give me your @!$#ing badge!” The man suddenly roared, fist slamming into the desk. It was rare for Pratt to really shout, he was a fair boss, an understanding one. This, he definitely did not understand. He’d thought so much better of Blake and what a bloody let down!

“It ye can’t use yer #$@ing brain and now ye can’t @#$%ing follow a $#@%ing order, get the #$@% out of my #$@%ing office!” His face was red, a vicious contrast to the receding scruffy blond hair atop his head. It would have matched his robes had he been wearing them!

A less angry Ed would have commented on his face being as luminescent at Paddy’s hair.
But he wasn’t less angry.

He was furious.

And disappointed.

So disappointed.

Well, that had escalated quickly.

Jonas kept his mouth firmly shut as the exchange between Pratt and Blake took a turn for the worse.  The lack of notes wasn't really the worst possible scenario; as Pratt had quickly pointed out, a memory of the conversation viewed via a pensieve was a perfectly operational alternative.  But he also understood why the Head Auror had exploded.  Blake was less than a year away from becoming a full Auror, and lives would depend on her ability to follow through and pay attention to detail while on the job.

And then Blake had gone and made things worse by not immediately complying.  It was not uncommon for tempers in the Auror office to run hot.  He'd seen Ed throw down his badge himself in a particularly heated moment.  But firing back at her supervisor like that was not a good look, not when Pratt had just blown up at her for not following protocol.

Jonas got it.  He did.  But he also really didn't have time for this drama to play out fully.  Every minute that Pratt spent fuming, that Blake spent not complying or staring wide-eyed at them both, was another critical minute wasted where he didn't have the information he needed to verify Aileen Reid's story and deal with this bloody, escalating mess of an investigation.

He caught Blake's eye, and jerked his head almost imperceptibly toward the pensieve.  Just do it.  If she wanted to be an Auror, she was going to have to figure out how to weather worse than this.