For the tenth time that month, Abby Reid entered the Ministry via the floo network in the atrium. She stepped out of the green flames, her heeled boots clicking on the polished floor and joining the footsteps of the rest of the wixes hurrying back to work after lunch. Stopping at the welcome desk, she picked up her visitor's badge, charmed to allow her access to Level Two.

She pinned it to her black blazer, and took the lifts down. A few wixes recognized her. One moved closer, curious. The other moved away. Abby ignored it, her hands on her hips, adopting the attitude of her older sister.

Smoothing out her hair, she stood a little straighter.

Today, she was not a victim, or a survivor, or a squib, or whatever people thought of when they looked at her. She was not Abby-normal. Today, she was Just Abby, and she wanted to get a job, and help pay rent on her own, and get on with things, if the presence in her head would let her.

As the lifts opened on Level Two, more and more employees recognized her, giving her nods and glancing over her professional outfit with stoic expressions. She walked into the office of the DMLE, pausing at the desk where a flustered young man (a trainee, perhaps) shot off letters. A cluster of memos hovered in the air, bouncing off his head with impatience.

"Are you here for more questioning, Abby?" The stand-in assistant looked up.

"No," Abby smiled. "I'm here for the interview. 1:00pm." She leaned in and lowered her voice, "Is Mr. Carstairs doing his own interviews?"

The man blinked in surprise and glanced at his calendar, whacking a memo away from his face. "He's doing this one."

"I feel special," Abby grinned, ignoring the nervous flutter in her stomach.

She took a seat in one of the chairs across from the reception desk, glancing at the shut door that led to Mr. Carstairs office. Abby was about ten minutes early. She would have tried to get there earlier, but her father had distracted her with an owl, reminding her to 'be early' and 'be respectful' and 'be yourself'. It had made her smile. He understood her need to keep busy, and had agreed that Level Two was probably the safest place she could possibly work. He was a few floors away on Level Five, likely checking the time at his desk at this very moment.

Raine had also encouraged her to apply, and it was her urging that had finally helped Abby let go of her own worries and that of her mother's.
 
"He's ready to see you. If you're sure about this," the assistant raised his eyebrows as yet another memo bopped him on the head.

Abby giggled nervously. She took a breath, calmed herself, and opened the office door.

"Mr. Carstairs," she smiled one of her megawatt smiles, and extended a hand to shake.

"Abby Reid. Thank you for meeting with me."

Of course, he knew her already. At the sight of his somber face, she thought of another, earlier Wednesday, when she'd first escaped to Level Two's halls. She wondered if he'd be able to see past the nearly mute teenager sitting in a conference room chair, haunted by ragged cloaks and fog, to the hopeful applicant who stood before him now.

If any of the Aurors would.

Solomon Carstairs was recovering from his early lunch by enjoying a finger of whisky and perusing the latest reports from their law enforcement patrol, a lighter read than the much thicker folder from the Auror corps. The world continued to turn in spite of the pentral issue and dementors at large. Sitting at his desk in his navy work robes, he leisurely flicked through the pages and sipped his drink.

            "Sir?" the trainee currently manning Elliot's former post popped his head into the office. "Your one o'clock."

A weary nod. The other wizard disappeared and, after a brief pause, in walked a familiar face - except not too familiar, as Abby Reid's demeanour was certainly different from when he had last seen her. An exuberant child. Odd, to think she was a peer to Almasy, whose disposition made her seem much older.

            "Abby Reid. Thank you for meeting with me."

"I recall." Solomon stood to shake her hand, bestowing one of his bureaucratic smiles; the sort that only almost reached his eyes. "Do sit down. And would you like some tea, perhaps, or coffee? Hot chocolate?"

Even as he spoke, he observed her carefully through his spectacles. When he had first seen her application in his stack of paperwork, he hadn't taken it seriously. There was a conflict of interest in hiring someone who was so personally affected by an ongoing case. Upon consideration, however, Solomon suspected it was better to keep Reid close to them. Easier to keep an eye on anyway. He took the same approach to keeping an Almasy within sight of his Aurors.

And Abby was only a squib. She could hardly do much damage, if they were careful.

Having dispatched the trainee to fetch hot drinks, he turned his attention back to her. "Tell me, Miss Reid. Why exactly are you interested in working on level two?"

Abby hoped the stack of reports on Solomon Carstairs' desk had not dampened his mood much. His smile and manner was professional, his gaze ever perceptive.

"Tea, thank you," she sat in the large chair across from the desk, sinking into the seat cushion. Oh no. She did not need to be shorter.

Crossing her legs, she kept her back straight and her chin tilted up ever so slightly.

She'd expected his first question to serve as an introduction to the interview.

Why did she want to work here? Because she liked the people on Level Two.

"I admire the people on Level Two," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. It was a truth among other truths. She needed a job. She wanted to feel safe in the place she worked.

"The Aurors have risked their lives to help me before."

Since he had chosen to conduct this interview, he'd likely read about her and the Reid family. During her brother Trevor's trial for runespoor smuggling, someone had unleashed a runespoor inside Aileen's house while Abby had been there alone. If not for the quick response of Trevelyan and Eleor, she could have been seriously hurt.

Of course, the Aurors had sent Trevor to Azkaban, but in Abby's mind, Trevor had condemned himself. They were not close. She had better interactions with her other brother, Simon, a former Auror, who she hadn't seen for years.

"Level Two is making every effort to help me now. I want to return the help in whatever way I can. Which is obviously not in the field," she smiled. "But behind the scenes."

Miss Reid had all the air and appearance of truth, which Solomon suspected made it easy for people to find her trustworthy. Her good feelings for level two were verified by her history with the Auror Corps. The red-robed wixes counted among both the squib's saviours and friends. At her worst, she would be distracted by the many familiar faces. At her best, comfortable in this particular social climate. Solomon took a final sip of his whisky.

            "...I want to return the help in whatever way I can. Which is obviously not in the field but behind the scenes."

The door opened, his temporary assistant bringing in a tray of tea things. He thanked the wizard and waited for him to leave before pouring a cup for either of them.

"Your intentions are noble." Sol smiled as he slid hers across the desk with a serious look. "You understand, of course, that this role is usually assumed by a magic user. It is a heavy workload. In addition to being tasked with my professional affairs you will be expected to act as an agent between myself and all other level two offices."

He attended to his own tea, stirring it more out of habit than to dissolve the sugar. "But you have experience working in the Ministry so I expect you're familiar with our memo system and late hours." His smile returned and he remembered how his previous assistant, Maya, had encountered difficulties[1] with staying past regular working times.

As far as he knew, Abigail had no such obligations that would distract her from her duties. Her application had informed him that she was currently living with one of the trainees so, if anything, she had incentive to comply.

"You're familiar with many of our staff, I believe. Have you met our Head Auror?" Solomon assumed that any person who could deal with Pratt's utter ineptitude for paperwork was qualified for this position. "Auror Pratt? Or perhaps you've heard the horror stories."

1.	A Man Inside a Room - 23rd February

She sipped at her tea, resisting the urge to add another spoonful of sugar, because she did not need to be more awake. Abby nodded, understanding that the job would be challenging all on its own without the added challenge of her lack of magic. She'd mentally prepared examples of the mundane modifications Aisling Knight had made for her during her internship on Level Three, but he already seemed aware of her previous experience. Of course he was! He was Solomon Carstairs, and he hid goji berries in his whiskey.

"Yes," Abby smiled. "Level Two never sleeps."

Neither did the other levels, but Level Two especially. Raine was only in her first year of Auror training and arrived home late several days out of the week. Normally, this would put Abby off. Though she wasn't adverse to work, she valued her free time and her social life. Since she'd returned to the real world, however, she craved busyness and an escape from her own thoughts.

      "...Auror Pratt? Or perhaps you've heard the horror stories."

Abby grinned, assuming this was partly a test.

"I've not yet had the pleasure, but I hear he's," she paused, tilting her head.

"Dedicated."

He did the job and stepped up when needed.

"Prefers an informal, hands-on approach."

Offensive.

"Cares about teaching the trainees how to survive in all sorts of situations."

Dueling. Childcare. Poor Raine and Fauna.

"And," she took a sip of her tea, eyes glinting with humor.

"His handwriting is quite distinct."

She'd once glanced at one of his memos and thought they'd finally found a translation for mermish.

“He’s busy, Sir.” The young trainee leapt up from behind the assistant’s desk in an attempt to stop his boss from interrupting his boss’ boss.

“And you should be busy with cases and auror work but instead he’s got ye mekkin tea.” The Head Auror pointed out, with a raised eyebrow. “When yer ready to become an auror and stop kissin’ ass, let me know, kid.”

The trainee frowned at his boss before slowly lowering himself back into his seat. Pratt would be the one to make his life hell in the long term if it came to it; playing Carstairs’ assistant was only short term.

So, the Head Auror, white shirtsleeves sleeves rolled up to the elbows and no crimson robes in sight proceeded towards the office for the Head of Department and pushed it open.

"His handwriting is quite distinct." a female voice stated, her tone clearly trying to be diplomatic. Pratt’s green eyes darted between his boss sat behind the desk with his usual ‘I can’t get the stick out of my arse so I’ll smile as if I’m enjoying it’ expression and the back of the head of the girl he was trying to convince.

Word in the cubicles of the world’s nosiest men and women was that today, Solomon Carstairs was interviewing for his personal assistant to replace Elliot who’d now begun to train as a professional pain in the ass with a quill. Perhaps it was a quill rather than a stick that caused Carstairs’ awkward smile…

Now if this girl was here for the purposes he’d been told she was, that meant she was talking about him. Who else on Level 2 had handwriting one could describe as distinct? Everyone enjoyed complaining to Eddie about his penmanship as if their complaint, after hundreds of others, would make him sit up and suddenly decide that enough was enough and he would take up calligraphy lessons along with knitting.

“I’d prefer to describe it as singular.” Without a care for whether he’d been invited to join or not, Ed Pratt closed the door behind him, strode towards the desk and dropped himself comfortably into the chair beside Abigail Reid.

In spite of himself, Solomon couldn't help but laugh as the young squib began to list what she knew of Ed Pratt. It was a very charmingly and tactfully phrased list - he did not think for one moment that any of the Auror trainees would describe their superior as such. Even as they spoke and thought of the devil, however, did he appear in the office like a conjuration.

             "His handwriting is quite distinct."
“I’d prefer to describe it as singular.”

Pratt joined Reid, sitting before Solomon desk with the usual aplomb.

"I would venture to say it defies description," Sol replied in a dry voice before gesturing between his two visitors. "Abigail, our Head Auror. Pratt, this is very likely my new personal assistant."

There seemed little reason to pretend that he was on the cusp of a great decision pertaining to the girl. It would be safer on level two than it would be anywhere else, and there were still aspects of her transformation that had yet to be studied. Something for Morgenthau's lot to have a look at, perhaps? While they were dissecting their Dementor and whatnot.

"A Chimaera's share of my paperwork comes through the Auror Corps, so you will be working closely with Auror Pratt." Solomon explained pleasantly for Abby's benefit, as the trainee outside his office entered with another cup for Ed and several folders for Sol's desk.

The tea pot lifted itself, serving the younger wizard. Sol continued to address the Reid girl. "Hopefully you will be much more efficient about keeping him from barging into my office, unannounced."

Oh good, Carstairs laughed! Heads of Ministry departments often did not.

When Eddie Pratt waltzed in, the aggrieved trainee trailing after him, Abby glanced at Carstairs, wondering if they'd planned that. The timing was odd. Her eyebrows raised in happy surprise though, when Carstairs introduced her so kindly. Did he mean that? Had everyone else bombed their interview?

It took her a moment to recover, but she stood to shake Pratt's hand.

"Call me Abby," she smiled at the two gentlemen. She looked at Pratt, noticing the lack of red robes and the casually rolled-up sleeves. So this was the man who vexed her friends and her older sister. He had such a lovely face as he lounged in that chair!

      "Hopefully you will be much more efficient about keeping him from barging into my office, unannounced."

"You can count on me," she assured Mr. Carstairs. "I'll come up with a few worthy titles ahead of time, so when he does barge in, he certainly won't be unannounced."

Abby's glance toward Pratt held a hint of mischief. She suspected that no force in this universe could keep him out of a room he wanted to be in, and no force could expel(liarmus) him, either.

The gossip was right. Abigail Reid. Ghost spirit girl. Relative to Aileen Reid. Bad idea to be a personal assistant to their department head, surely?

Edward Pratt, from his comfortable position in the usual seat he took when in Carstairs’ overdone office, stared at Abigail Reid with little care for how the girl might feel about it. The pentrals being within her or however it worked wasn’t Ed’s main concern. His real problem? She was related to that bitch who’d gone out of her way to be nasty.

"I'll come up with a few worthy titles ahead of time, so when he does barge in, he certainly won't be unannounced."

Nope, not an evil nasty psycho witch that wanted to destroy his happiness. Just your regular run of the mill squib that wanted a place in the wizarding world. Ed could handle that.

He smiled and took a sip from the cup that had so generously been brought to him by his trainee. Ed didn’t particularly like tea. But it meant he was welcome to stay. Good. He needed a break from the griping in the Auror headquarters for at least ten minutes.

“I like her.” He offered Abby a wink before glancing to Carstairs. “She’ll make this office tolerable, boss. Might give ye a sense of humour. Or, ye know, try. There’s only so much polishin’ one can do.”

It was rather interesting, watching Pratt make up his mind about the girl. He liked her! Now... was that a good or bad thing? Solomon supposed that it at least meant he wouldn't have to worry about Abby bringing an attitude problem to the Auror Headquarters. Merlin knew they'd had enough of that from Maya Elliot making eyes at the young wizards. There was something innocent about Reid.

The problem with innocence, of course, was that it had to end some time. She was a ticking clock.

"I'll laugh in my own time, thank you." Solomon smiled at his head auror dryly. "Your approval seals the deal either way. You may have full use of your trainee as soon as Miss Reid is able to assume the role."

He turned his gaze back to the squib in question and lowered his tea cup, reaching for an open folder on his desk. "Monday the fifth, Miss Reid? Badge and identification paperwork shall be ready by the end of this week."

Solomon handed over the sheaf of papers, his schedule details, and raised his eyebrows pointedly - as he often did with his daughter whenever he wanted to make sure she was actually listening to him.

"You are to be in half an hour before I arrive at nine. Sometimes I shall be in by eight," he informed her in a crisp and pleasant voice. "And you may leave half an hour after my own departure, which shall depend on the events of the day itself. I work some weekends but you shan't have to come in unless your presence is particularly requested. I expect tea at four in the afternoon, sharp."

The winking Mr. Pratt was going to make her lose her composure. She pursed her mouth in a typical Reid expression, then ruined it by letting out a giggle. Polishing! Oh, Merlin.

Abby took a long sip of tea, and nearly choked as she caught on to what Mr. Carstairs was saying.

Solomon Carstairs was offering her the job.

She looked at him, then at Pratt. With only the slightest tremble in her fingers, she set her teacup on the end table between the two armchairs, remembering their meeting almost a month ago when she'd barely been able to hold her cup of tea. Even in those extremely different, trying circumstances, something about Mr. Carstairs had reminded her of her own father, and her family in general, and as he spoke, his genteel manners and dry humor only solidified that impression.

Quickly, Abby took the stack of papers he offered, glancing at them. "Yes, the fifth is perfect."

This was perfect!

Her smile widened as he outlined his schedule.

"I understand. Come in early, stay late, make a mean pot of tea at 4." Her gaze drifted to his glass of whiskey. Whiskey, optional? "And sound the horns for Mr. Pratt, here."

As if he didn't toot his own horn enough. Abby shot the Head Auror an amused glance.

"Do either of you have any other questions for me?" She asked curiously, resting the papers on her lap. Despite her confidence in her own charm, Abby had not expected an immediate job offer.

“About bloody time.” Pratt muttered audibly at the mention of finally receiving his trainee back. The poor lad hadn’t signed up to auror training to be used as a parchment pixie by the grumpy procedure hugging git with a quill. Had it been Ed when he’d been a trainee, he’d have probably thrown a hissy fit.

Surprisingly, with the Head Auror’s approval, Carstairs offered mini Reid the job and began to lay down the contract that sounded far too close to slavery for Ed’s liking.

“You will need to kneel at his feet while you deliver the tea and he drinks. He likes to keep his assistants at arm’s length so he can give them a pat on t’head for being good.” Ed smirked, bright green eyes dancing with amusement between boss and newest victim to Auror humour. “Welcome to yer life of paid slavery, lass.”

He didn’t have any questions. Just advice. And perhaps suggestions. Best given out of ear shot of the boss, however.

             "Do either of you have any other questions for me?" asked the squib, who was turning out to be a rather astute young lady.

And then Pratt opened his mouth to add a load of utter insanity for the poor thing to process. Solomon nearly choked on his tea, setting down the cup to wipe at his mouth as the Head Auror glanced at Reid with a look that spelled trouble. "Welcome to yer life of paid slavery, lass."

"That will be quite enough, thank you." Solomon shook his head at him, not entirely able to stop himself from smirking. "Do take everything Auror Pratt says with the usual grain of salt Miss Reid. I don't believe we have any further questions for you - we will owl, of course, if anything comes up."

They already had her address down with Almasy's. Between one girl hexing precocious reporters and the other a recently recovering victim of pentrals, level two was in for interesting times. But that was Pratt's problem now.

"Will you walk the young lady out, Pratt?" Sol raised his eyebrows at the other wizard. "And Abigail - do give my best to your sister, the older Miss Reid."

Abby stood, then glanced at Mr. Carstairs, the excited gleam dimming in her eyes for a moment. Of course he knew about Aileen. Trevelyan was thorough and must be keeping the Department Head updated. Pratt likely knew, too. At least they were kind about it.

"Thank you, Mr. Carstairs, I will."

She smiled brightly, "And thank you for the opportunity."

On her way out, Abby stopped at the personal assistant's desk, beset by nervous giggles when the trainee thanked her profusely. He shot off a memo to Raine with such enthusiasm that she stepped back as it zinged past her nose. Abby couldn't help but wonder what in the world a nice man like Carstairs had put him through!

      ...evolved... since school.

Abby blinked at the girl's voice in her head, hesitating as she fell into step beside Mr. Pratt. Hmm?

Silence. Abby felt an undercurrent of emotion. Amusement? Suspicion?

Shrugging it off, she turned to Pratt with a smile, "For you, I'll get a salt shaker at my desk, and for Mr. Carstairs, what do you recommend?"

Mini Reid thought he was joking. Carstairs thought he was merely exaggerating and talking rubbish. Ed Pratt had heard things from his boss’ last assistant. Abigail Reid was about to become his parchment slave and she’d willingly applied for the position! Stupid girl.

"Will you walk the young lady out, Pratt?"  There was a look of distaste on Ed’s expression at the mention of Big Reid, the cold faced wretch that had so enjoyed reminding him of his poor status and inability to match up to Quincy. Mini Reid was at least nicer.

“I need a word after, Guv.” The Head Auror told his superior before pushing himself out of his seat. Normally he’d tell Carstairs to go stuff himself, Ed was no chauffer. But a minute alone with Mini Reid wasn’t going to hurt anyone.

They were soon walking down the corridor towards the level 2 entrance and security.
“Whiskey.” Pratt said plainly. “Bloke starts drinking at 10 in the mornin’ if he gets a chance. It ‘ent really tea he wants, if ye get me drift, lass.” This could be fun.