"Did you receive the message I sent on Wednesday?"

Aileen crossed her arms in front of Abby's desk, looking down at the trainee occupying her sister's chair. The flustered young man was rifling through a stack of letters next to another stack of papers next to a stack of file folders on the desk, and shooting nervous glances at her. It was amazing, really. All she had to do was stand there, quirk an eyebrow, and ask a simple question and somehow, this proved to be too much for the kid. All that magic, and no organization skills. She almost smiled, looking forward to telling Abby about it. Her sister should be glad to know the office missed her.

As she stood there, waiting oh so patiently, the trainee nudged one of the piles, and that pile nudged another pile, which nudged the third pile and made the stack of folders fall over. Aileen took a small step to the side, letting them tumble off the edge of the desk. Something thudded as the folders hit the floor. Not paper. Shooting the trainee an annoyed look, Aileen waved her wand, floated the papers up, and bent to pick up the paperweight. The glass paperweight she'd given to her sister as a gift. She turned it over in her hands. It was intact. Slowly, with care, Aileen set the object back on the desk, narrowing her eyes at the young man.

She flicked her wand and the papers fell to the floor again. This time, the trainee gave her a look, one torn between annoyance and wariness, as he went around his desk to collect the stack.

Aileen moved out of his way and perched on one of the waiting room chairs. The trainee paused. He glanced up, brow furrowed.

"I'll wait," Aileen informed him coolly.

"You will?"

"Mhmm. Don't let me disturb you while you," she paused, "work," Aileen smiled a slight smile that did not reach her eyes. "If my presence is a bother, you might want to send a memo to your boss letting him know I'm here and would like to speak to him. It's important."

And it was! Or she wouldn't have sent a message to Carstairs' office on Wednesday requesting a meeting at his earliest convenience. She wouldn't have shown up on Friday, looking vexed, to torment this trainee. She had better things to do with her time. She'd known something was wrong since Wednesday, when she'd stopped by Abby's flat, only to find her hiding in some kind of blanket fort in the living room, reading Witch Weekly and listening to wireless shows, and saying she was doing exactly what Yavin had advised her to do. Well then. Aileen had asked her, nicely, how the meeting[1] had gone, in many various polite ways, and had received the vaguest and most minimal of answers.

Which meant something important must have happened. Therefore, she was here for an important reason. And if she didn't see Carstairs in five minutes, she was going to march on over to Yavin's floor and demand-

The door opened. Pratt walked in.

"Auror Pratt," the trainee smiled in relief, gathering his papers and putting them back on the desk.

"Mr. Pratt," Aileen didn't bother to mask her disappointment as she stood from her chair. When had anyone ever smiled in relief at the sight of Pratt? She glanced over his shoulder, but no luck. No Carstairs.

"Ma'am," the trainee foolishly uttered. "If it's so important, you can speak to Mr. Pratt."

She turned her head and looked at the trainee as if he'd suggested sticking a quill in her eye.

1.	We know not the fire in which we burn

"Auror Pratt,"

Ed stopped and looked up from his book. Yes, Ed Pratt had a book in his hand. Yes, Ed Pratt could actually read.

Dark blond eyebrows furrowed marginally into a frown at seeing one of his trainees once more acting as secretary to his boss. Carstairs could steal his trainees for that purpose when it suited, but Ed still wasn’t allowed an assistant of his own? Double standards and ridiculous hypocrisy! The ministry was run by hypocritical monkeys in expensive suits!

"Mr. Pratt,"

Ailment Reid.

Green eyes shot to the witch (witch used in the insulting term, eg. nasty unpleasant wart covered hag; not the usual way of describing a female wix) stood from her seat, looking decidedly disappointed.

Well, Ed, too, was decidedly disappointed.

Horrified even. Perhaps it wasn’t public knowledge, but Eddie didn’t like Ailment Reid.

Shitty little Hector Landragon dropped Eddie in it then, and the Head Auror made a mental note to lock him up first in his little trainee experiment. Shitty little Hector Pendragon would soon understand.

“Can you?” Pratt asked, lowering his book. He didn’t look happy with that idea. Not happy at all.

Aileen glanced around the waiting area as if someone competent would appear. There was only the trainee who was peeking over his stack of papers at her hoping she would go away, and there was only the grown man, the Head of the Aurors excuse for a man, asking 'can you' with that reluctance on his face and that book in his hand and that careless speck of coffee on his shirt and his brain definitely elsewhere. In his book.

Pratt made no move to address things or direct things or ask about the problem. He hid behind his book.

Aileen's eyes narrowed, first at Pratt, then at the book. She stood a little taller, looking down at him.

"Can I," her voice dropped ten degrees. "Will you, Pratt? I don't see your boss here at present, and I'd like someone to explain what exactly happened during the meeting on Tuesday with Mr. Carstairs, Mr. Morgenthau, and my sister."

She turned her head to shoot a look at the trainee hovering behind the desk, knowing full well that whatever she said now would be repeated and embellished and spread around the entirety of Level Two in seconds, but she gave him an icy stare anyway, and glanced at the quill in his hand. Put it down.

Aileen turned back to Pratt.

"I trust you've made progress on the lakehouse case since August," she paused to glance again at his book, her expression anything but trusting. "I'd like to discuss that with someone as well."

Someone, preferably anyone but Pratt. Perhaps he'd put those delegation skills to good use. Perhaps he'd call in Auror Trevelyan, or find Mr. Carstairs, or Silencio the trainee, who was piping up with the news that he'd found her letter. He waved it in the air and asked if he should put the letter on Mr. Carstairs desk, while she was here and the boss was away.

“He’s not in?” Huffalump poo! Ed’s lips pressed together, displeased. This was the wrong moment to walk towards Carstairs’ office. The wrongest of wrong moments. The crappiest of timings. Goodness, Eddie Pratt couldn’t stand Aileen Reid. She was an obnoxious and stuck up princess and he certainly was in no mood to bow down to her. Shitty little Hector Pendragon.

Ed hadn’t been in the office at the time and he wasn’t personally involved in Abby Reid’s case. That was what delegation was for. If Ed was honest, he’d had other cases on his desk to focus on with the boss having taken a personal interest. Who wanted, after all, to get involved in a case with Ailment Reid?

“I’m sure you can discuss it with someone.” Ed nodded, lowering his book to look across at the witch. “Hector here’ll make ye an appointment. He has my boss’ schedule right there. He’ll make sure that he is definitely in for ye.” Ed did not want to get involved in this mess. No siree.

"Hector here only just found the letter I sent," she snapped, gesturing at the mess of files and memos cluttering the desk. "How is he supposed to make an appointment?"

The trainee deflated. Aileen ignored the kid. She summoned the last of her ire and crossed her arms.

"I'm here now. I'm here to find out why my sister hasn't left her flat in two days," exasperation and worry crept into her icy tone. "I'm not leaving until I hear a good explanation."

Did he know the will it took for her to show up on Level Two after the tainted chocolate debacle, with a pentral still murmuring in her head? Did he expect her to believe that he didn't know what was going on? He must be aware of at least some details of the case, he must know something about the meeting that had taken place earlier. He was the Head Auror. Surely he had some responsibility!

It was with defeated resignation that Edward realised Ailment wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. He couldn’t brush her off because she was a sticky unpleasant goo that took a really strong scourgify to get rid of.

This was different to his previous ice queen encounters, however. Reid was concerned, not salty. She was thinking about someone else rather than how she could drag him down.

“Fair enough.” Family was untouchable, he supposed. Bt it still didn’t allow her to barge in demanding to speak to someone there and then. Unless it was an emergency, things just didn’t work like that.

Ed let out a long sigh.
“Ye want an explanation, but one from someone workin’ the case, Aileen.” Ed knew who he’d throw this delightful visitor at. “So, book an appointment with Carstairs or come wi’me and I’ll find ye Trevelyan. Stay there throwing a tantrum and ye’ve got a bloody long wait, woman.”

Woman? Tantrum? Chauvinistic p#@$!

"Trevelyan, then," Aileen said evenly, eyes flashing. Who knew when Carstairs would be back? Certainly not Hector here.

At least Trevelyan paid attention. He didn't waste his time wandering Level Two with a book in his hand while demented siblings were still on the loose (though she did hear something from Abby about how they talked about books, or a certain book series involving games and thrones and beheading, but Aileen supposed she couldn't begrudge him that).

As she walked down the hallway next to Pratt and into the main bullpen, she avoided looking at him, her face stony. Merlin, he rankled her. He couldn't just do his job without lording it over her.

When they neared Trevelyan's cubicle and Aileen spotted his familiar head of red hair, it was then, and only then that she delivered her parting shot to Pratt.

"Thank you for your assistance," her eyes cut to his, her tone far too cold and haughty to be sincere.

"If you think that was a tantrum, Pratt, you need to read more books," she glanced pointedly.

"I won't waste another word on someone still learning their letters."

She turned away, donning a much more neutral expression for Auror Trevelyan's benefit. Look at that, he was sitting there getting his work done as all of Level Two should be.

"Auror Trevelyan," she stepped up to his desk, smiling quickly and politely. "If you have a minute, I'd like to talk to you about the Lilly case."

Ailment Reid dutifully followed the Head Auror into the Auror Headquarters and towards Paddy’s cubicle. Pratt enjoyed the silence from the harping hag until she decided that she needed the final word. Well, that didn’t surprise him. She was a nasty old harpy who clearly was determined to put herself on top by dragging others down.

Ed smiled, nodding. She’d tried to insult him by doing something he’d wanted. She wasn’t going to speak to him anymore! Win!

“Sounds good to me. I’ll go and stare at my picture books for a bit.” He cast a quick ‘I’m sorry but deal with it’ look at Trevelyan, turned on his heel and took off.

Now that he was juggling two major investigations, Jonas felt as if he was spending most of his time buried up to his elbows in paperwork.  Today, he'd been running through everything they had on file for the ex-Azkaban inmates at a Bridge House in Diagon Alley, looking for any possible connections between them and the now-identified direwolf who had been captured in Camden during the most recent full moon.

The Auror office was busy enough that he'd trained himself not to pay much attention to the chatter going on all around him.  Despite the bickering, it wasn't until he heard his name that he finally glanced up to see a familiar blonde witch standing in front of him.

"Ms. Reid."  Jonas blinked, catching the tail end of Pratt's look as the Head Auror walked away, leaving him with the pentral-possessed academic. 

Like her younger sister. Aileen Reid had ended up on the wrong side of a spirit fleeing from the Lilly Lakehouse a few months before.  But unlike Abby, Aileen had retained most of her original appearance.  Even now, as always, she looked not to have a single hair out of place, although he doubted that she was asking about the Hunt siblings' case as a means of starting a friendly conversation.

"Of course," he said, setting down the file he'd been reviewing.  "Do you want to see if we can step into a meeting room?"

"Yes, thank you," she answered Trevelyan stiffly.

On their way to the meeting room, Aileen let out a sigh, aggravated by those few minutes with Pratt and his ridiculousness about picture books. She'd rather speak to Trevelyan, anyway. He was respectful. He understood that boorish behavior did not get him smiles and acquiescence and abundant time to read in peace. She was a Reid. She refused to be trampled on or turned away.

Trevelyan managed to find an open conference room. Aileen paid little attention to the particulars, and walked in with her head held high. She felt more like herself these days than she had in months. The pentral was quiet. Quieter. Without the pentral's influence she acted more like herself too, lashing out at the incompetent (Hector) and the dismissive and patronizing (Pratt).

Trevelyan, to put it simply, didn't deserve that. Aileen paused at the chair, let out a breath, and forced her shoulders to relax a little.

As she took a seat, she reminded herself that he'd been consistently kind since August. Trevelyan had seen her at St. Mungo's, witnessed the mortifying, horrifying moment she'd learned a pentral was possessing her,[1] and he hadn't thrown it in her face yet. He hadn't told her that she deserved it for her uncompromising attitude and icy behavior towards him in years past.

With much effort, she let some of the coldness fall from her face. She clasped her hands atop the surface of the wooden table and looked at him like he were a person on her side.

"I'm worried about Abby."

Words she couldn't say to Pratt, not directly, not without resentment.

"I saw her just a few days ago, at the flat she shares with Raine. She said she was taking some time off of work since the meeting that she had on Monday, with Mr. Morgenthau and Mr. Carstairs. Apparently Yavin spoke to her pentral? Using his legilimency," she waved her hand in the air as if mind-reading were some fancy trick. She had a great deal of respect for him, but that was not her focus now.

"They'd uncovered a good deal of pertinent information about the case, but she wouldn't tell me what that was. Alright, fine, if she doesn't want to tell me, that's fine, perhaps the details aren't important at the moment, or perhaps I don't need to know everything."

Aileen arched her brows as if the very idea astounded her, then conceded, "Perhaps she's nervous about how it might affect me, or-"

Or her own pentral, she thought but didn't say. Trevelyan could fill in the blanks.

"The way she acted seemed odd. She's been holed up at home. She's not at work. It's less about the work and more about the fact that she's choosing to avoid people in general."

Aileen would have asked Raine if she'd seen her at the time, but the trainee had been out.

"I would have made an appointment with Carstairs, but his assistant-" she shook her head. Another story. "And Pratt is," she shook her head again with more feeling.

"I would just like to know what happened."

She spread out her hands, a flicker of disquiet in her eyes. She hoped Trevelyan knew something about the meeting, about the case, about Abby, about anything that might help.

1.	Dawn will turn to dust

They found an empty conference room, and Aileen took a seat.  Jonas eased himself to sit across from her, on the opposite side of the table.  As the former Runes professor began to speak, he listened silently, his forehead creasing.

Even back when she'd first hired him, when Jonas had been a private detective toying with returning to the magical world, the two of them had never been friendly.  Aileen Reid had always struck him as cold and aloof, representative of a stereotypical pureblooded witch.  Their initial cold relationship had gotten worse as travails had mounted.  She'd refused to help him when he'd lost his magic due to her cursed dagger,[1] and he'd used her and Abby to get information on the sisters' older brother, Trevor Reid, who had been implicated in Runespoor smuggling.[2] 

But even during the most horrid of their interactions, he'd never doubted that Aileen Reid loved her sister.  Aileen had taken Abby in after she'd run away from her parents.[3]  When they'd been attacked by mummies at the British museum, she'd protected Abby first (albeit while abandoning him to his magic-less plight in the process).[4]  Even though both women were struggling with the pentrals that possessed them, Aileen was usually the one who looked out for her younger sister.  it couldn't be easy for her to see Abby struggling with this.

Jonas sighed, giving her a tight, sad smile.

"Unfortunately, there's limits to what I can tell you meself," he said quietly.  "Since Abby is of age now, it's a bit more tricky than it would be if you were her guardian.  Your best bet to get a proper answer might be to make an appointment with Carstairs."

But he had his doubts about even that suggestion.  Carstairs might have more freedom in deciding what to share, but the Level Two Department Head did almost everything by the book.  He doubted that the former Auror would answer Aileen's questions in a way that truly satisfied her.

Not to mention that the news that Abby was avoiding everyone was troubling.  He hadn't seen her since the incident in Carstairs' office, which he'd only heard about afterwards.  He hoped the teen was all right.

Jonas took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts.  "From how I understand it, Morgenthau and Carstairs met with Abby to see what they could learn from her pentral," he told Aileen.  "The pentral was able to share information that could be important to the case, and Carstairs asked Abby to keep it to herself as a result.  So I don't think she was keeping it from you because she was worried about how it would affect you," he said, flashing her a quick smile.  "It was more us keeping our cards close to our chest."

1.	18 April, 2009 - Impress the Forest, Bid the Trees
2.	12 December, 2008 - The Return of the Red-Headed Man
3.	12 November, 2008 - Is this a dagger I see before me?
4.	1 January, 2009 - Compared to you, the other plagues were a joy!

If not for the sense of real regret that Trevelyan was emanating, Aileen might have assumed his hands were tied in a loose knot of Ministry politics that he didn't care to break free from to help her. She'd already heard 'make an appointment with Carstairs' from Pratt. They couldn't expect her to believe that the whole department was clueless.

Though disappointment flitted across her face, she held her tongue, realizing that he was likely one of the few Aurors who understood her position. Despite their differences, he knew enough to know that she was usually the first in the Reid family to step up when something was affecting her younger sister. She stepped up because Abby didn't always, and how could she? Abby was young. A teenager. A squib. And now a traumatized, possessed, teenage squib.

Aileen and Abby's parents would have made an effort had they known. Her mother would have sent an aggrieved owl or shown up and thrown a terrifying tantrum (shut up, Pratt), and her father would have mildly conferred with Carstairs over whiskey and called it handled, but that required them knowing things and that was the whole problem. None of them had known to help Abby when she'd needed them most. They still weren't sure how to help now.

"I see. They asked someone who loves to talk not to reveal anything about the most important thing going on in her life currently," she said with a touch of judgment. "I know she has people here she can talk to in this department, of course, and she has a few friends from other departments. But Aurors are not Healers."

Thank Merlin, her expression said.

Aileen felt out of her depth, stressed by her own pentral problem as well. She pursed her mouth and glanced away for a moment, considering the best question to ask that wouldn't require Trevelyan to reveal too many details that would compromise the case. Her focus had to be Abby.

"Is this pentral someone who is potentially dangerous to her?" Her eyebrows drew together faintly in concern. "Abby tells me she has a strong personality, a will of her own."

Aileen felt certain Jonas would find that familiar.

"If she's shared important information about the case, that's certainly more than I've been able to give so far."

Aileen's pentral had remembered the moment of her death and her involvement in trading supplies on the island. Perhaps Abby's pentral remembered more or had been more involved. Her eyebrow quirked up, unsure which to hope for.

This was one of the parts of his work as an Auror that he liked the least.  At least when he'd been a private investigator, the only thing keeping him from making a moral decision on what to share or not share with someone was his pact with his client, which he could always cancel by returning any payment.  (Well, cancel depending on his family's finances for the month.  But he could always think about canceling it.) 

Here at the Ministry, things weren't so cut and dry.  Aileen technically wasn't Abby's guardian, and so she had no right to demand the details of her sister's case.  And, bound by the regulations and operating procedures of the Ministry, Jonas wasn't at liberty to share them.  But he couldn't help but wish that he could push against that.  Aileen was right: Aurors weren't Healers. Neither were they elder sisters with Abby's best interests in mind.

He listened silently to the witch's questions, his forehead creasing. 

"No.  Aside from the possession itself, it doesn't sound like she is dangerous to Abby, at least from what Carstairs and Morgenthau think," he said, shaking his head.  Carstairs had been acquainted with Iona McBoid, the pentral inside Abby, when she'd been alive.  "And yeah, she's been able to help us a bit, which we're all grateful for."

Aileen's assessment of the situation wasn't exactly fair to herself, though.  Jonas studied her thoughtfully for a moment.  It wasn't easy, having part of one's identity suddenly made so confused with ragged, unclear edges -- he knew that firsthand, after everything he'd been through a few years ago.  Wanting to help but not knowing how to, and growing more frustrated all thee while.

He flashed Aileen a lopsided smile.  "You should give yourself more credit, though.  We wouldn't have understood what we were dealing with to begin with if it wasn't for you and your thorough knowledge of medieval poetry," he said wryly.  "Not to mention that I appreciate you keeping the cursed Egyptian daggers away from all of us this time.  Be a bit more of a mess if we had that to deal with on top of everything else."

Some of the concern smoothed out of Aileen's expression as the Auror assured her that Abby seemed safe and that the pentral was offering help. Aileen imagined that not everyone who'd known Lore was as pleasant and innocuous as Aileen's own pentral, a young mother who had sold a few black market items to feed her family. Lore must have killed off more suspicious sorts than the desperate and easily targeted.

She shook her head at his poetry comment, fighting the strange urge to laugh. Oh Merlin, he thought she felt guilty for not being as helpful. Didn't he know her? No, she was just stating facts. Abby's pentral had been more talkative than hers so far and that was fact.

The dagger. He just had to mention it, didn't he. Yet he didn't seem angry, not like he'd been years ago when she'd ignored and avoided and dismissed his concerns over the lack of magic that the cursed dagger had caused him.

Aileen raised her eyebrows.

"It would hardly be appropriate to mix ancient curses with medieval ones. Who needs that? Though you'll have to remind me which dagger you're referring to," she deadpanned, then paused a moment longer.

"I've conveniently forgotten."

Aileen smirked to let him in on the joke.

She would have preferred to forget it, but negative memories were always the strongest. Aileen and Healer Foley had found a cure and neutralized the dagger a few summers ago, but she'd never told Trevelyan that Abby had suffered ill effects too, or that Headmistress Snark had threatened her into complying, or pretending to comply, with her plans to use the dagger's magic. Aileen had handled things on her own, giving the creepy caretaker a parting curse as she'd left for Egypt with Snark. As she'd tried to figure out how to get Snark off her back, the headmistress had fallen into a pit of her own karma and completely disappeared. She was still missing. How could Aileen tell anyone about that? Certainly not Trevelyan, not at the time, when all she'd done was snipe at him and ignore his problem.

Aileen gave him a thoughtful look similar to the one he'd shown her.

"Is there anything else I should know about the case? Or," she paused. "Have you thought of any new questions for me, since Abby's interview?"

Her eyes were serious but her mouth twitched again, aware of how rare it was for her to offer.

A few years ago, he might not have believed that Aileen Reid had a sense of humor.  But here she was, smirking at him to share the wit of her wry comments. 

A lot had changed since that winter, when he’d fallen under the effects of the cursed Egyptian dagger.  Back then, Jonas had been struggling in too many ways: with his marriage, with his magic, with finding his place in two different worlds.  These days, he felt much more sure of his place in everything, and perhaps that was what allowed him to connect with Aileen Reid’s dry wit.

The magical scholar’s next question made him pause for a moment.  After her older brother’s arrest for illegal trading, he never would have thought that he’d hear Aileen Reid volunteer to help with a Level Two investigation.  And yet here she was, offering her assistance and giving him an invitation to ask her questions.

“I reckon we must, but I think I might need to gather me own thoughts a bit in order to use your time wisely.”  Jonas raised a quizzical eyebrow at her.  “Is that a one-time offer to chat, or would you be amenable to scheduling a time to stop by?”