27 Jan 2012
Friday at 10am
Witch Weekly HQ
Diagon Alley

Three days since Barnabas Cuffe has gone missing.[1]

Niobe hadn't seen Gen since before her husband Leo had been released from Azkaban, since Niobe'd interiewed her about the whole thing. She felt a touch bad about that. A good friend might've dropped by with coffees to make sure all was well. Leo had harassed her. Made threats. Gen's son Leo was in the middle of it. Niobe let herself off the hook a little bit - Gen was as obsessed about her work as Niobe was. And that's why she was here. Work. Or something adjacent to it.

Witch Weekly headquarters was chic like Gen, chic like the magazine, but colder than the bright passionate witch Niobe had known for years when they were both new idealistic idiots just starting out in the magical media. If there was a rivalry between the Weekly and the Prophet, Niobe didn't buy into it. Their coverage was different enough and it was better to have Gen as an ally than an adversary. Unless you were Barnabas Cuffe. Cuffe and Queen G had an infamous public animosity and it only seemed to benefit them both.

Which is why Niobe was coming to Gen. If anyone knew what was going on, it'd be Gen.

"Niobe Thursby. Is she in?" Niobe asked asked the receptionist.

1.	24 Jan 2012 - Without a Forwarding Address

Waverley set down her coffee and looked up. She looked a bit weary, liberal with her out-all-nights even on school nights, but she was well-caffeinated. She didn't recognize the visitor but the visitor - Niobe Thursby - had the aire of the familiar.

"She is," Waverly responded with an eyebrow. She enjoyed the role of sphinx-like gatekeeper, providing the bare minimum of cooperation, protecting her boss's time. She didn't feel one way or another about Queen G, but she did enjoy having the keys.

"What's this regarding?"

"Barnabas Cuffe," the visitor Niobe Thursby said mirroring Waverly's pointed brevity.

"I'll just find out if she'll see you." There weren't any appointments in the book, not until lunch. "Wait here."

Waverly went back to the bullpen, very much abuzz with activity and preparation for the February issue. It was a big one, Valentine's Day. She was tall. It was easy to find the smartly-dressed editrix and her impossibly high heels.

"There's a Niobe Thursby here about Barnabas Cuffe," she informed Queen G.

“The truth, Sue? It’s boring. I can’t sell boring, honey. Boring doesn’t get you paid. Boring gets me the sack, and I’ve got a son to support. Entertain me. Capiche?” Queen G was stood beside one of the desks in the bullpen. Susan Molowski was a fairly risky hire, and Gen was starting to feel like the risk wasn’t paying off with a reporter playing it far too safe and dull.

“S’all I could get on him, G.” Sue replied uncomfortably.

“Oh Sue, there is always more. Dig deeper. I want to be stimulated” the words came out as a sensual whisper, “like I would be under a naked sweaty beater, not tired of the same 50-something fat panting husband who lasts 2 minutes and wants a medal for it.”

On the other side of the desk, Gen clocked her young new assistant making a beeline for them. Something about Niobe and Cuffe. Great. Fun times. Wonderful! Gen didn’t move immediately, instead, she waved a hand at Waverley, “Naked sweaty beater or husband with a beer gut? Which is going to get your pulse racing? Need you reply? Nope! No reply needed. Dig deeper, Sue. Stimulate me or write your resignation letter. That will be far more interesting!”

With that, she waved a hand, done with the conversation, and headed towards to reception with Waverly in tow.
“I’ve not written anything about Cuffe without realising it, have I?” It was possible. Maybe she’d owled him when drunk. Or Agatha. That sourfaced pompous witch might have been bitching in her ear.

When she pushed open the door to reception, Gen raised her hands in the ear. “Whatever it is, I didn’t do it. Suggest retirement, he’s past it now. Clearly loco.”

Niobe turned and couldn't help but smile. Queen G was a lot to take in, every moment a performance. She hadn't always been this way, this force of nature, but Niobe decided they were all better off. But no matter how sparkly your new shoes, the past followed you.

"Yes, he is all that," Niobe said pushing off the counter. Cuffe was an ancient old codger, abusive, and further from ship-shape every day. It was hard to understand, but if there was anyone in the world who cared about Barnabas Cuffe, like, from the heart, it was Genevieve Garcia-Gamp.

    "Coffee or something?" Waverly asked. Never a dull moment, thank stars. 

Niobe nodded. "Aye, thanks. With cream."

Then, as she began to unbutton her coat, she said to Gen, "come talk to me. I've got something to ask you. Your office down this way?"

Niobe was trying to keep the mood light. There wasn't need to set off any alarms at the Witch Weekly, well, before Queen G decided to. It was possible this was nothing. That Cuffe was somewhere. Rather than nowhere.

Her newest tall and skinny assistant offered their visitor a coffee and Gen also nodded. A coffee would be appreciated. It didn’t seem possible to sustain boundless energy without the help of caffeine.

“Cryptic.” Gen muttered with a raised eyebrow before leading the way through the double doors back into the bullpen and through to her own office. The entire bullpen was extremely different to that of the Daily Prophet. Both, were of course, hives of activity. But people here seemed far more relaxed and at ease. Memos made form paper airplaned zoomed just overhead and the wizarding wireless was playing. Large glass windows gave a peek into the boardroom and finally Gen’s own office where she pushed open the glass door and stepped inside. The large windows gave a view down into Diagon Alley, and the blinds, today, were pulled up to let in the light. No hangover today.

Gen’s office wasn’t ostentatiously large, but rather more sensibly sized. There was a large light wooden desk occupying most of the space, and the walls were, as would be expected, covered in the front covers of previous issues and awards she and the magazine had won.

“Well?” Gen asked, spinning around. “Something to ask me…You can’t have a job here, Niobe. I’m brazen, but I’m not looking for war with Cuffe.”

Niobe loved Queen G's office. It was an utterly fearless space, claimed from the grey city and shambling Diagon Alley with luxury and individuality. There was nothing accidental about it, and Niobe appreciated where she was. You could never forget what Genevieve had built even though Niobe knew where she'd come from.

They'd been peers long ago, fellow reporters working under Cuffe's constant abuse. Niobe had managed to climb and thrive in those conditions. There was a time where she believed that made her special or strong or otherwise better than people who couldn't hack it, like Gen back then. Those days were over now, and everything about Gen was exemplar of that mistake. Professionally, they were peers no more, but always friends Niobe hoped.

Niobe took the chair and hooked her knee over the arm.

"I'm crushed," she said in her Belfast brogue. "But about that ... do you know where he is? He's not been at work now for three days."

Scattered across Gen’s desk were draft articles, interviews and exposés ready for her keen eye to peruse and feedback on. These were final drafts as they would be sent to print just after lunchtime ready for tomorrow’s edition. Friday was always a bustling day in the Witch Weekly headquarters. Yet, despite the chaos occurring in the bullpen, the editor, as ever, remained calm and in control. Every week, they published an excellent copy, and every week they had a chaotic end to the recurrent marathon.

Gen’s gaze swept briefly over the mock up as she dropped down into the swivel chair before jumping back up to Niobe.

“Wait,” she suddenly interjected, brows furrowed. “You don’t know where Cuffe is?” Exactly what she’d just said, wasn’t it? Barney Cuffe hadn’t been at the Daily Prophet for 3 days. Barney Cuffe lived for his work, he was obsessed. He was, one might suggest, married to the Daily Prophet. Agatha Pendragon was just an irksome addition to his arm for the purpose of those parties in his large townhouse.

“Have you spoken to his wife? Popped to his house? He's probably been nursing a hangover. Old bastard can't party like he used to. Probably needs a week to recover."

Niobe tilted her head and lifted her eyebrows at Gen. Niobe was an investigative reporter for the biggest magical newspaper in the country.

"Really? You're not my first stop," she she, annoyed at the implication she hadn't already checked his house.

"No answer at his place, no one's seen Agatha. My contact at the Floo Network said there's been no traffic in or out."

Niobe hadn't expected to be so irritated. She was usually detached and methodical in her work but this was different. The Daily Prophet felt like a morgue. The top editors had been able to keep things under wraps for about forty-eight hours but the ringing lack of diatribes and stormings about become impossible to paper over. It wouldn't be long before news of the abnormality leaked beyond the walls.

"This is no hangover. It's a badly kept secret you and Cuffe are close, Gen. If you know anything ..."

As Niobe, clearly irked by Gen’s questioning, went on to explain how of course she’d been to his home, how no one had heard from or seen Agatha, and how there had been no floo traffic at all. Now, Gen was somewhat concerned. Barney Cuffe never went silent. He, Gen was convinced, wasn’t capable of silence. He effed and blinded and cursed and yelled. He threw paperweights at doors and narrowly missed heads. He roared, red faced, and acted like a tyrant.

“…It's a badly kept secret you and Cuffe are close, Gen…”

Was it? Were they? Gen and Cuffe held a decent and very public rivalry. They relied on one another for certain things. She had called on his help for the issues with Leo. But close?

“I’ve not heard anything. I’ve not seen him before Christmas when I had the measles.” She frowned. “So what; he was in one day and then just vanished? No word?”

Good, she was taking it a bit seriously now. To be fair, they at the Daily Prophet hadn't believed it at first either.

"That's the long and short of it," Niobe said.

"Near as we can tell, he left early on Thursday which isn't unheard of. Meetings and that, you know? But he didn't show up Wednesday at all. We sorted out quickly that no one knew where he was. After another no-show on Thursday it was clear - something's up."

Niobe leaned forward in her chair. "We started poking around, looking for him. We've it quiet, me and couple others, but we're a bit past that. Honestly, I'm not jumping with joy to have him reported to the Ministry, but unless you know anything..."

Niobe was friendly with the Aurors and she had a decent working relationship with Cuffe, but going to the Ministry without Cuffe's go-ahead was like telling Captain Ahab that cooling it off on that white whale would be a nice idea. If he didn't turn up, though, it was inevitable. She was started to get worried for the old man. The Daily Prophet without Barnabas Cuffe?

Missing since Tuesday. 3 days. It hadn’t reached the media, but, she supposed the Daily Prophet was that particular media. And Witch Weekly. But Gen wasn’t thinking now about publicising her colleague and rival’s disappearance. Instead, she was wondering why it had happened. There had to be an answer. Barney Cuffe was a crazy old man, sure. But he wasn’t a runner.

“I don’t know a thing, Niobe.” She muttered, shaking her head. And it was the truth. Gen and Cuffe didn’t have the type of relationship that involved regular communication. If he was in trouble, he was hardly going to let her in on it. He had resources to help with trouble.

“You need to report this. He wouldn’t just-” Gen stopped talking as her office door was slowly opened to reveal Waverly with the drinks. Gen sat up a lighter straighter, not realising how pale she’d gone at the news.

Niobe nodded in thanks to Gen's assistant with the coffee - they kept their conversation paused until she left. Once the were alone again, Niobe leaned back, took a sip, and swore under her breath.

"Damn."

Gen was right, though. She'd been Niobe's last lead and it had fizzled. Unless ...

"Do you know his wife at all, Agatha? Has she got any family you know of we could knock? I don't want to be dragging the Ministry into this and raise some kind of alarm before I've actually had a good look for him. You know all they'll do with an early Missing Person is make us sit on it."

Niobe had met Agatha Pendragon on a few occasions when she spent have the time amused over some inside joke no one else was in on. Bit high and mighty, that one. It was possible Niobe was overestimating Gen's relationship with the Cuffe/Pendragons but she had very publicaly called him 'Daddy'.

Of course, Gen knew Cuffe’s wife. Agatha Pendragon was an unpleasant and obnoxious witch who spent most of her life peering down her nose at people like Gen. She’d never seemed to have approved of the friendship/rivalry that had developed between her husband and the magazine editor; a fact which Gen had often used to wind her up.

“She’s got a sister,” Gen muttered into her fresh coffee, crossing her legs and wiggling her glittery heeled shoes under the desk. Gen also knew the sister thanks to the pre-Christmas events that had seen Leo Gamp being released from Azkaban after 12 years. “Enid Jingleberry. That ridiculous criminal lawyer. She’s a snakey one so just watch out.” Jingleberry had a reputation for getting her clients off at all costs. What would she be like as a sister?

Frowning, the editor leaned back in her chair.
“I don’t get it. Cuffe clearly loves his job more than his pompous wife, so why the hell up and leave? Did he seem jittery? Well, more unstable than the usual hot poker up his rectum style?”

Agatha Pendragon was sister to Enid Jingleberry! Niobe didn't hide her surprise and a hot little sneer that she'd never figured that out. The two celebrity witches didn't look much alike and to Niobe's quick summary they'd never been mentioned in the same column together. Niobe shook her head. She might've liked to have known about this little connection considering Leo Gamp's trial and Gen and Cuffe's frequent spats. It was a family affair, to be sure.

Niobe scoffed at Gen's particular way of expressing concern.

"No, not more than usual."

She was going to leave it at that, but then she stopped and thought about it. They'd been so focused on locating him that Niobe hadn't really tried thinking back on how he'd been acting. It was Cuffe. He was a monster most of the time, but there were shades of red...

Thinking out loud, Niobe began, "he fired and then rehired the entire Quidditch section... he had some row with the editorial board ... actually ... "

Niobe sat up and tapped her finger in the air. "He kept asking me nicely about those murder-by-mail incidents with the Wizengamot elders. That's odd, right? When's he ever asked nicely for anything?"