15 November 2011 @10am
Conference Room
Level Three, Accidents & Catastrophes

The senior staff was in the process of filtering out of the conference room following the conclusion of an IDREAD briefing. Representatives from the other Departments had been in; basic updates on coordiantion requirements and a final report on what had happened at St. Mungo's the previous month.

Quill stood at the head of the table, rifling through her notes and setting them in order. She was dressed in her usual attire, clean witch's robes (today in olive and blue), and her dark hair was pulled up.

"Someone grab Bevans for me," she asked to no one in particular.

"Who?

"Nicholas Bevans. Relatively new. Thank you."

Night shifts killed his social life, morning shifts killed his soul, Nicholas thought as he sat at his desk and tried to look busy while not falling asleep.  Quiet was good, boring was good, quiet and boring was even better on level three.  Or so they told him.  Sometimes it was exciting.  That just wasn't considered a good thing.

It left a lot of time for going over policies.  So when he was interrupted he breathed a sigh of relief before he realized he was being called into the  Department Head's office.  What the hell? The only thing worse would be getting called to level one.  He closed the book he'd been going through and started the short trek to the principal's office.

He knocked on the open conference room door as he step inside.  "Ma'am, you wanted to see me?"

By the time Bevans arrived, Quill had the room. She looked up at the knock, and regarded the young man for a moment. He looked tired. She had to be sympathetic. It was hard not to forget what it was like to be junior in busy Ministry Departments; she was, however, reminded of her early days whenever she had a moment with the new guys.

"Mr. Bevans. Nicholas, come in."

She flipped the folio cover shut and straightened up.

"I hadn't realized St. Mungo's was your first official day. You seemed to get along aright. Quite a crucible. Doing okay?"

Department Head Som had a well-earned reputation for being thorough and direct. Procedure and ego-free cooperation were high on her list and she had never hesitated to mince words with the willfully obtuse or the persistently negligent. Per Nicholas Bevans's file, he hadn't had time to prove himself as having either failing. Couldn't let that go to waste.

Nicholas nodded when she said his name.  So not a mistake.  She definitely wanted him.  He stepped into the room, standing across the table from Som. He wasn't sure if it helped or hurt that he was shorter than the woman standing across from him.  He refused to be intimidated.  Okay, maybe he was a little bit.  But it was impossible not to be.

"I hadn't realized St. Mungo's was your first official day. You seemed to get along aright. Quite a crucible. Doing alright?"

That didn't sound like he was in trouble.  "It was more excitement than I expected for my first day. But," he shrugged, "the perimeter was quiet."  Other than Fig showing up and running toward the hospital like an idiot.  Or a son who was afraid for his mother.  Nicholas wasn't sure there was much difference; it was just better not to call said son an idiot.

"I'm doing  g0—" he couldn't stifle the yawn that escaped, "—od.  Sorry, I'm not a morning person."

"It's ten a.m., Mr. Bevans," Quill said with a tilted eyebrow. "Drink more coffee."

There wasn't room for Quill to judge what young wizards got up to off shift, but she doubted they were restful activities. Why should they be? Memories needed making as much as they needed Obliviating.

"And yes, exciting it was. I'm not ashamed to admit I do enjoy a spot of adrenaline.  Especially when we don't make the news."

Good. Now they'd been properly introduced. She extended her hand. "Have a seat," she asked, as she did the same.

"I've got an idea," she said. "Operating solely in reactive capacity is challenging. I'd to act the Level Nine and do an experiment, try and initiate a bit of prevention."

Prevention so far on Level Three involved education, practice, and as much of the divinations the Department of Mysteries could (or cared to) share. But the day-to-day was, and had always been, about response.

"Could be exciting."

Quill watched him, wondering what he might be kenning onto. His supervisor, Hartsell, had mentioned he was smart. Or maybe she'd said smart-arse?

"Will do, ma'am."  If only coffee could make him want to get up before any sane wizard should be up.  He smiled when she said she liked a bit of adrenaline.  He wasn't sure she was supposed to admit that, but he supposed if anyone on level three didn't like some excitement they'd be down on level five instead.

He took the seat when she offered.  He nodded along as she didn't explain anything other than trying to prevent...statute breaches he assumed. "It would certainly make it easier to keep magic off the internet."

He wasn't sure how they could prevent everything.  The department already covered big events.  And things like dementor attacks couldn't exactly be anticipated.

"There are a lot of wixes, how do we prevent them all from doing something reckless?"  Not to mention the showier creatures.  They at least didn't know any better.

Quill tapped her pen.

"Mmhmm, well, we're only going to start with just a few: a particularly risk-prone demographic that we are very good at keep tabs on. I've spoken with Solomon Carstairs and he's agreed to my plan of having an Obliviator accompany the new Aurors - trainees - on a few of their solo operations."

She paused.

"I think you'll probably acquainted with a few of them.  You came out of training with good scores with muggles, your wand work is at the top - more than match for them.  I think you're my guy, Bevans. There are details to work out of course. What do you think?"

It might feel like a request from the Department Head wasn't actually a choice, but it was. Of course, if he turned her down in favor of routine, she'd be really disappointed in their newest Obliviator. The team needed the agile and daring. She hoped he had that sort of muster and that his fatigue was more of boredom than a characteristic overall lethargy.

Nicholas leaned forward.  Going out with Aurors.  Sure he did that now sometimes but it was more show up while they were leaving to deal with the mess.  After ten months of 2011 sucking major balls, maybe November was when the year would finally turn around.  Being hand picked by the big boss to proactively go out into the field.  He'd get to work with Briar and Fauna, and he guessed Raine.  Which he doubted she would like.

"Yes! Sorry.  Yes, I'm your man. Whatever I need to do."

He'd never wanted to be an Auror and he still didn't but he definitely wanted to be out in the field more.

"Good."

She nodded, pleased with his enthusiasm. She needed this one to be good. The Department was lacking in recruitment, well, recruits of suitable quality. Yes, indeed. Quill Som needed Bevans to be good.

"So, the key to all this is you being able to exert some influence on the Aurors, and act quickly to deescalate a potential breach before it really gets rolling. Do you think you'd be able to, say, advise them even as things start getting hot? Predict how a situation could unfold and step in?"

Nobody liked being told how to do their job, which could be a shallow interpretation of what this was about. Obliviators muzzling Aurors. But Quill was hoping the right people would be able to take full advantage of the opportunity for a cleaner, more effective operation. All going back to a Quiet Shift Is a Good Shift, or whatever the current version of the mantra was.

"Think about it. You're serving some warrant and the subject makes a run for it into traffic. Not a few Aurors I've known are going to strongly consider chasing after with wands out, spells flying. That might be what we'll be dealing with."

The only thing Quill could be sure of - frankly the only thing she could ever be sure of - was that this was going to be complicated. Quick, clear thinking required.

Oh.  Deescalate a problem.  Nicholas wasn't sure that he'd ever done that in his life.  And, he wasn't sure how much he'd be able to influence any of the trainee Aurors he knew.  What he did know, was not to say any of that to Som.  Talk about a surefire way to end this before it began.

But he had to say something.  He couldn't just nod along.

"I'm not sure anyone could stop them.  But a reminder of the muggle location.  Prepare beforehand, muggle repelling charms on the street.  Less likely to be a breach or injuries to bystanders."  He doubted he could get them to stop and think beyond the immediate.  If he did that to Raine, he just hoped she'd aim for something other than his balls.  He didn't care to be a joke around the Ministry water-coolers.  "Disrupt recording equipment, fog up windows, anything that wouldn't tip the Aurors' hands but would cover for the worst case."

"Good," was Quill's 'enthusiastic' response.

No braggadocio, and he had a couple of very clear ideas of quick options to keep a public op on the down low. It was a good start. She hoped, however, in the field he'd find his voice. Level Three had an important job; they weren't bystanders. The Ministry of Magic's original priority and a major part of its current purpose was to keep the magical world secret from muggles. An existential imperative (although not everyone agreed). It was counterproductive to have to remind other depeartments without hurting feelings. I.D.R.E.A.D. had actually been pro-active. As did having Zephyr then Glass in the big chair.

"I think this a real opportunity, Mr. Bevans. For us both. I'll keep you updated when I have more. Do you have any questions? This will move fast."

Nicholas smiled at his department head's simple good.  He was pretty sure she would have told him if his ideas were dumb.  Good wasn't much to go on, but it was good enough for him.

"No, Ma'am, I don't have any questions."  At least not any he was going to ask her at the moment.  He'd talk to some of the senior obliviators, or at least the ones that didn't ignore him most of the time and might actually have useful suggestions for other ways of preventing muggles from seeing anything in the first place.

"I'll be ready."  It gave him something to prepare for rather than just going over manuals and policies over and over again.

The Head of the Department inclined her head to their newest Obliviator. Going into the unknown with a positive outlook and a plan, that's the game. She stood up and re-straightened the already straight stack of files and folios in front of her, the briefings on the St. Mungo's incident, what they'd learned about Pentrals.

"That's just what I hoped to hear."

A brief pause, looking him over again. She wondered what would stand out more in his mind, the St. Mungo's incident during his first full shift? Or this. Big project, hand-picked and all that. Quill suddenly thought of Lawrence Musgrave[1] and the day they met and how young he was.

"How old are you, Mr. Bevans?"

1.	12 Dec 1981 - Impressive

Nicholas couldn't stop grinning.  A month.  It had been a month of being an actual obliviator and he was getting a new special assignment.  He hadn't even been so...elated... at his first full night of sleep after the burglary and the dementors brought back all his nightmares.  And that had only been right before Halloween.  He was practically giddy now.

He tilted his head when she asked how old he was. "Eighteen—sorry—nineteen...ah two weeks ago."  He wasn't sure why she was asking.  He was also pretty sure it would be in his file.  What kind of file didn't have his birthday in it?  She wasn't about to change her mind was she?  That was a...No she mentioned that he'd know the auror trainees so she had to know he was the same age as them.  Or at least the newest ones.  "That's not a problem is it?"  He asked cautiously.

"Oh, not at all," Quill said; she hand't meant to alarm him. She was usually so personal with her colleagues, not until they'd, oh, worked together for thirty years. It wasn't hard to become a trusting sort again after the whole world had been turned upside down. And here she was, about to 'back-in-my-day' with a junior.

She owed him the tiniest explanation for worrying him. And for using him as a guinea pig.

"I was only remembering what it was like to be that age. Everything happens all once, and it can be very exciting. Very ... impactful. Please forgive me, Mr. Bevans. I won't make you suffer through more indulgent reminiscing."

She also remembered what it was like to be held hostage by a senior supervisor who'd forgotten they held the whims of comings and goings.

"You may go. Good luck."