1030 hours


He had read the Prophet[1] over breakfast earlier this morning, and had come into work with the aim of putting it out of mind until the first few meetings of the day were over. One of the meetings had been with Morgenthau - the older wizard seemed rather unconcerned, and left level two with a catty remark about the aurors perhaps needing their own confidentially contracts.

Solomon was looking over the article again when Auror Roh walked in. He'd asked Abby to fetch her.

"What the hell is this?" he threw the paper down on to the desk, glancing up at the witch. "Did you knock your head before answering questions, Roh? Taking tips from the trainees, now?"

Understandably, nobody was at their best after facing down a cavalry of dementors. Even a single dementor was enough to shake your average auror out of their senses if it came out of the blue - but Roh wasn't average, she was an experienced hand and usually a sensible one these days.

He nodded at the chair, indicating she sit down for a longer talk. A gesture of the wand threw the door shut behind her; he didn't like others overhearing these chats, the gossip was neither productive nor interesting.

1.	The Curious Case of Dementors at St.Mungo's - 19th Oct

Zora was clueless for a few whole seconds in the aftermath of her boss's opening salvo. Then the headline fully processed and every stage of her realization was painted clearly on her face. She shut her eyes, rolled her head, and bit her lip to keep from swearing. She took the seat, hands on the armrests and shook her head.

She'd made full Auror in '95 just a few years before Carstairs re-appeared on Level Two bringing with him the service record of a war hero and a frivolous social reputation. She hadn't been among those surprised he made his way into the bureaucracy but also wasn't among those who were pissed about it. He was a perfectly fine Auror and a better politician. Zora had always been good at sticking to the line. Until today, apparently. She'd found it. She'd found Carstair's line.

Zora chewed on her next words. She had no excuse and he wouldn't care if she did. The night had been full-blown chaos and not helped by things said and not-said. The Trainee quip had stung more than she wanted it to.

"It needed to be said," she said finally, firmly. She was trying to come up with some kind of qualifier, something to acknowledge her temper had been ragged, but nothing was coming. Mysteries was rogue and from Zora's point of view that hadn't improved under Morgenthau.

           "It needed to be said."

The hell it did! Solomon sighed, removing his spectacles to pinch the bridge of his nose - a habit he had acquired when his children were young and precocious. Sometimes he didn't know who caused him more grief: the criminals, the politicians, or his own bloody rockstar aurors!

"That isn't your call to make. And what, precisely," he put on his spectacles again and grimaced, "did you think needed to be said?"

Reaching for the paper again, he turned it the right way up to give the contents another quick perusal. "Did we need you to release information about the fourth floor window? Of an ongoing investigation?" They hadn't, after all, discovered who exactly was behind the events that night.

"Did we need you to make us look incompetent? And antagonise Mysteries in full public view?" Solomon looked up from the print - he wasn't scowling but the angry condescension in his countenance was even worse, somehow. "Not to mention telling the public this could have been catastrophic. Merlin, Roh, there's enough fear-mongering in the papers!"

As if he didn't already have enough on his plate, with people like Genevieve biting at his heels.

Zora itched to see for herself what had gotten into the article, although it seemed like plenty. She wasn't surprised, of course - she'd known she was talking to a reporter and Thursby never held back. She sat back stiffly as Carstairs read it all out.

Her eyebrow arched high at the mention of antagonizing Mysteries. Morgenthau thought what she said was 'antagonizing'? Just he wait and see.

"Where do you want me to start?" she sniffed. Getting called to task had become an unfamiliar feeling and it was putting a salamander in her belly. She and the other Aurors were on the ground. Carstairs had to remember what it was like. And getting second guessed on public relations, it was insulting.

"Fear-mongering. Pa! I'm tired of this department shutting off from the public. They need to know what's going on," she waved her hand at the paper. "I'm sick of 'no comment'. That is what makes us look incompetent."

She should stop.

"And don't talk to me about Mysteries. What the f-" She should stop. Zora took a deep breath, settled back in the seat once more and shook her head.

Roh stopped just short of swearing - which was more than he could say of the likes of Ed Pratt. The Head Auror, however, was not prone to making reckless remarks in front of reporters, or at least remarks that didn't reflect on level two any more than they did on his character.

"This department does not comment on ongoing investigations because criminals also read newspapers." Solomon tapped his desk, finger jabbing at the Daily Prophet banner like it had personally done him wrong. "It isn't your job to disseminate information without consulting others, is it? Or do you believe that you're capable of making that call on your own?"

It grated against his nerves, these fools who had no idea what it was like to serve two wars in which secrecy was the only way to undermine your enemy. Loose tongues meant losing lives, and it still did today.

Solomon reached for his tea - forever on his desk - absently raising it to his lips before abruptly setting it down again. "If public knowledge is your concern, perhaps you're in the wrong vocation. You could always beg Miss Thursby for a job."

Merlin knew they could do with some reporters who were more invested in actual news rather than poking holes at the Ministry of Magic. It was almost as great a need as aurors who knew how to do their bloody job without losing theirs wit. Sol leaned forward against his desk, expression turning serious.

"By the by, I won't bloody talk to you about Mysteries. You're off anything to do with Mysteries," he said this with the clear enunciation of a schoolteacher. "One more word from you about them and it's desk work until the new year."

There it was! She didn't understand it. It was possible - it was wise - to be concerned with both. Some sort of transparency could be a tool as good as any spell. Zora glared at him. He was only popping off on her because he felt side-stepped, but he couldn't expect to control everything. She was a good Auror and he was an arrogant prick. At least, he --

"What!" She was on her feet, raised a hand and clamped her mouth shut again. No.

"No! We should have known about Musgrave," she blurted out, pointing into the distance. "And we should have known about Pentrals! Mysteries knew and did nothing. Told us nothing. We need to know what we're getting our arses into, Carstairs."

She hadn't been dressed down like this since training, hadn't been threatened with the bench. And for what? She crossed her arms, working to check her temper. But check her temper for what?

What in Merlin's name had her bouncing about like a trainee? Solomon sighed heavily as she jumped to her feet.

He couldn't deny that it hadn't been the best idea, keeping this pentral business in a tight circle, but he had good reason not to widen the sphere of knowledge on level two. Not everyone was to be trusted; their experience with Ira Almasy had certainly evidenced the existence of a leak somewhere on the floor. Perhaps even more than one leak.

"Sit down," he muttered curtly, "you're embarrassing yourself."

His hands met over the desk, fingers interlacing. "If you have a problem with Mysteries, you come to me. Not the Prophet. You're not a trainee." Solomon didn't have a problem with underlings questioning his decisions - they did it all the bloody time. He had a problem with them taking it to the public.

"We've learned from the St.Mungo's incident," he continued in the same patronising tone, though it was softened. "Aurors will be briefed with what they need to know. Everything else is above your pay-grade, Roh. Work on some other cases. Leave Mysteries alone, we need them for now."

Or however long it took Morgenthau to figure out how to fix the victims. Solomon hoped that Order of Merlin meant something.

Zora regretted nothing, not a word this whole live-long day, and Carstairs's condescension wouldn't change that. (Although his threat of a desk might, a bit.)

'Trainee' it was again. Zora shook her head and took a seat, leaning forward elbows on knees.  Carstairs was saying all the right things, all the clean and measured policy things wizards in his position were meant to say.  The tricky bit was, Zora didn't give a sparkling shit about Mysteries right up until they interfered or impeded the work she and the Aurors were trying to do. She expected people with a position like Carstairs to push back a bit. She had no apologies about what she said to the Daily Prophet, but she could be reasonable.

"Fine. But why does Mysteries have Musgrave? And what is going on with Pentrals? I don't want to be surprised like that again."

He could just tell her to stuff it. She expected that, but she had to ask. She'd confirmed more was being held back than she'd previously been comfortable with. She knew the necessity for layers of secrecy, but for Zora Roh and every other Auror who ever drew a wand, being told to stay away from something is as good as decking it out in fairy lights and having it dispense whiskey and cake.

She'd follow orders and stay off Mysteries, she knew her place that much. She'd go back to 'no comment', do as told, but it would all be indigestion.

Some aurors were easier to dispatch than others - easier to mollify with a simple plea to trust the powers that be; which was to say, to trust the likes of Solomon and Edwin. Roh was not of that breed. She had a mind of her own and that mind often led her down unwise paths, useful as it was in a duel.

"Mysteries is studying Musgrave," he answered without aplomb, "and studying the pentrals. That's all you need to know. If you were a senior auror or if I could trust you to control your tongue around Thursby, perhaps I'd be inclined to share more."

The last thing they needed was a loose canon. Level two had enough of those. Solomon drank his tea, this time actually taking the time to taste it before he sat back and continued speaking. He didn't want to entirely crush Zora: she was one of the good ones, she just needed incentive to behave better. Women always do.

"No more talking to the prophet or any other publications," Solomon drove the point home with pointedly raised eyebrows, "and that is a direct order. I don't want a reporter so much as looking in your direction or at Mysteries."

Studying Musgrave? 'Why?' she thought with disgust that she didn't hide. She did refrain from asking out loud, taking Carstairs at his word that pushing the subject would be fruitless. She had half a mind of finding out on her own but 'stay away from Mysteries' didn't seem like an empty threat either. She sat back and sighed, calming down in resignation that the matter was settled with her on the arse-end.

Senior Auror. Wonderful. Now he was going to think that was his idea. God, he was condescending. He was treating her like she didn't have twenty-years experience.

Direct order. Nice ring to that. It wasn't entirely unreasonable. Really, it was getting called on existing policy. She'd crossed the line, she'd done it on purpose and probably would have again if Carstairs hadn't found out.

"Yes, sir." She rubbed the space above her eyebrow then lifted her head trying to show she wasn't flapped, at least not anymore. She still had major misgivings with the policy of layers of secrecy, but that wasn't going anywhere. Not soon, at least.

"Is that all?"

At the very least, Roh knew when not to put up a fight. That set her apart from many of the witches who had found themselves in his office, defensively making irrational demands. Solomon was glad - he was just trying to do his job without stumbling over the Daily Prophet every ten bloody minutes!

            "Is that all?"

"Yes," he made a dismissive gesture: she could leave now. "The next time you feel an urge to be chatty with Thursby, see me first." A flick of the wand, the door swung open behind Zora. "Thank you for your time Auror Roh."

If they were very lucky, the newspaper article wouldn't come back to bite them in the arse. But on the off chance that they weren't... Sol had it on record that he had called her in on a reprimand, and he was damn well ready to shove the blame in Roh's direction.

Zora didn't tarry.

"Thank you," she said and got up from her chair. Chatty with Thursby. Chatty wasn't something she'd ever been accused of. She made her exit and intended to go find a copy of the paper for herself. Make a clipping for the icebox. But she nearly collided with Ed Pratt who was lurking.

"Heard enough, Pratt?" she said, not slowing.  She and the so-badged "top" Auror had been partners (mercifully) briefly. He was tolerable on the job, but a twit in the office.