Early Morning
Before Calm Before the Chaos



September had been an … interesting… month. It was too much to hope that October would be less stimulating.

Hovering over a floating flame, the teakettle began to whistle softly at first and grew steadily in pitch. When it had reached a full howl the flames below snuffed out and the kettle tipped, pouring steaming water into a waiting porcelain cup. Sliding her wand back into the waiting holster at her hip, Tamis Raynor grasped the cup with delicately built fingers and inhaled the aroma released from the perforated ball containing various herbs as the hot water seeped inside. Slowly, the contents of the teacup began to turn a soft hue of golden brown.

The still levitating kettle now forgotten, Raynor leaned back against the table ignoring the much more abused coffee pot in similar suspended animation as she observed the sea of cubicles before her.  It was early in the morning but the Auror Office was already stirring with activity. Interdepartmental memos had begun their flurry, zooming over head and diving viciously down at their still half-asleep recipients. Mouths were yawning, heads of hair were being ruffled, and the low buzz of conversation had begun as heads ducked into and above booths. It appeared to be as normal of a start to a morning as any of them had on Level Two anymore.

If only.

The first of the month was always grueling for the Head of the Auror Office and, subsequently, miserable for the Aurors. The previous month’s reports were due, which meant she harried and harassed the procrastinators to complete them and hand them in to her – preferably as less smudged, crinkled, and readable as possible. She, however, had long given up on miracles.

On top of the usual paperwork nightmare, Raynor had a parole meeting with Cináed Tawse. She had tried to think of any loophole possible to keep the man tucked away under Ministry scrutiny for even a little while longer, to no avail. Then, to add the cherry to the cake, the Gibson Case and the May Second Murders were officially going to be declared as cold cases today, right after she finalized the paperwork. October was out to prove September as meek.

She thought she caught of flash of signature curly-hair disappear around a corner and she frowned into her tea, now a rich brown, almost black.  Plagued by her own troubles, she admittedly had not given Adon Eleor’s case much thought, other than to keep subtle tabs on it. She had to admit, Kabir Ahmed was making Eleor’s promotion difficult for him – not that either man knew it.  Raynor had been suspicious that the foreigner would attempt to evade Ministry attention, though she was still entirely unsure if his motivation behind his disappearance was benign or malevolent. She had to let Eleor do this one on his own, though. Spencer after all was guiding him, though the young, female Auror had not reported back to Tamis on his most recent progress. Perhaps he was stuck on the case, and Aberdeen did not want to have to relay that?

Finally cool enough, the Head Auror pressed her lips against the porcelain brim and took a sip. Her brows furrowed almost instantly. She had let it steep for too long, it was quite bitter. Instead of adding a generous amount of sugar as another might have, the petite woman removed the small ball and suffered another long swallow but this time without the facial expression.

So self absorbed in her thoughts, she almost missed the unexpected appearance of the man who walked into the Auror Office, as if summoned by her musings.  

Ahmed was in civilian dress, which had become his custom since the disastrous events in Heathrow. Why make himself a walking target, if he did not have to? In his sheepskin vest, blue woolen tunic, dark trousers and black fleece cap he looked no different than any other recent Indian or Pakistani emigrant, though his dark green wizard’s robes might set him apart in a Muggle neighborhood.

He had been required to check his wand...and the dagger in his boot...at the entrance, with the comment, “And how do I know I can trust you?” However this time he was merely joking.

He was all but recovered from the poisoning which had nearly killed him. He was still a bit pale, though with his olive complexion that was not immediately noticeable. And there were faint blue smudges under his eyes. Since the attack...and especially the nightmare in St. Mungo’s...he had found sleeping difficult.

He spied the small dark-haired witch, evidently savoring her cup of tea…well, judging by how those formidable eyebrows came together, perhaps savoring was not the word. But she did not sweeten it, he noticed.

He sighed. Now that he had caught sight of her, and seen that she might not be in the best of moods to begin with, he was tempted to just turn around and leave before she saw him…

 Almost missing was not the same as missing.

Allowing the warmth of the cup to seep into comfortably into her fingertips, the Auror was distracted as she caught a rather unexpected presence in the corner of her eye. As it seemed, she was having a trend of unanticipated visitors. Except, instead of the cheeky, ginger haired man returned from the grave it was a taller, darker skinned man who had just recently avoided the graved.

 The Auror Office did not have a staunch dress code, though the Head Auror insisted on color and style uniformity at least. For the most part, there was an overwhelming splattering of dark shaded business casuals among the cubical occasionally interrupted by an infamous scarlet red cloak or other government issued trademarks. It was hard to come off as an intimidating “all mighty” Auror in neon green dress robes – not that it had not been tried before. Regardless, he might as well have shouted “here I am” in that sheepskin vest with how fast it landed on Raynor’s radar.

For a long moment, cool gray eyes stared intently into Kabir Ahmed’s warmer hazel ones, trying not to let her surprise show. Even more so, she resisted glancing back at the mop of curly hair she had spotted earlier to see if he was aware of The Aurors Office’s visitor. They did not get many of those – not willing ones, anyhow.

Silence stood in span of a minute between them before Tamis Raynor appeared to reach a decision.  She beckoned the man toward her with an inclination of her head and held up her cup of tea in a silent question and peace offering – though there was nothing askance in her expression.

The man had come this far. She doubted she was going to need a compelling charm to get him through the last couple of feet.

Well, she mostly doubted.

Looking around at the assorted black and dark gray robes, sprinkled here and there with the official red Auror’s cloak, Ahmed felt like the proverbial sore thumb. He almost wished he had come in uniform. Of course that would have been even more conspicuous, but at least it would have looked official.

As it was, he looked and definitely felt like the country cousin. Which is just what he was. Though he had come to London from Mumbai, that was not his normal station. He seldom came down from the mountains; and in truth his recent behavior could be as much ascribed to culture shock as to anything else. He had fled to the north...yes, for Tulo’s advice and calming presence...but also just to have mountains and forests to walk in, while he thought things over.

He met Raynor’s gaze without lowering his, though for such a petite woman she had quite a formidable presence. But yes...he had come this far. He could go just a bit further...

When she made the silent offer of a cup of tea he answered with a slight nod, and walked into her office. Feeling like a small boy called into the headmaster’s office for talking in class, he clutched his robes nervously.

“Erm...” he said eloquently. “That is...good day Miss Raynor.” Even to himself, he sounded like that same small boy, addressing his schoolteacher. “I trust you are well?”

When he did not retreat and consented to the offer of a beverage, the Auror turned back to the levitating teapot, once removing her wand from its holster at her left hip. Busying herself with the pot gave her an excuse to draw her gaze way from the man as he approached. It, no doubt, had taken a significant amount of courage to enter the Ministry. Especially when he may not have been sure if he was going to be viewed as friend or enemy. Raynor had not decided, yet.  Regardless, preoccupying herself instead of staring at him tended to be a less threatening gesture, a technique she had learned the hard way with the trainees.

By the time he was close enough to verbally greet her, she had already slipped an infuser into a second teacup.

“I have been better,” she replied honestly. “But I have also been worse.”

Finally, she lifted her gaze to meet his – a considerable distance, given their height difference. Why did the men she consorts with have to come of such tall stock? The Auror profession seemed to draw them as if they laced their advertisements with amortentia. The same could be said of all branches of Law Enforcement, apparently, as well as convicts.

She did a swift initial evaluation of the Indian dignitary, from head-to-toe and then toe-to-head. There was a rather impersonal air about it, as if she had been sizing up a horse for purchase. Thankfully, she did not seem interested in peering at his teeth. Finally, she grunted. Whether in approval or disapproval of what she found was hard to say. Still a faint shadow of poor health under his eyes, but his color did not seem as off. Once a healer, always a healer, she supposed.

“You look as if you could say the same.” She handed him the teacup then with the infuser still soaking inside. Everyone had different preferences on strength. However, the black leaves were of high quality Indian stock, a fact she did not think to mention, and would grow bitter if abused for too long. “Earl Grey,” she informed him on the type.

As if she could not appear any more stereotypically British.

“I have been better. But I have also been worse.”

He could understand that. From the reports he had read, MLE had quite a bit on its plate. When she looked him up and down, obviously sizing him up, he smiled faintly. Though what came to his mind was a camel, not a horse.

“You look as if you could say the same.”

He took the teacup from her hand. “Thank you.” Earl Grey was fine, though he liked his tea a bit stronger than the English usually did. However, remembering that she had winced a bit upon tasting her own, he reminded himself not to let his steep too long. 

“I will live,” he said in response to her comment. “Thanks to that young fellow...Eleor, isn’t that his name?” He sighed. He and Eleor had got off to a dismal start.

Feeling awkward, he took the infuser from his cup too soon, just to have something to do besides fidget. Setting the infuser on a saucer on the desk, he took a sip. It was tolerable. At least, it was hot.

“I came to apologize,” he said after a rather lengthy silence. “And...to answer any questions you might have.”

“Eleor, yes.” She replied noncommittally, trading his cup for hers once to too the offered tea.

Subconsciously, she did another scan of the cubicles, making sure that Adon’s curly hair was still not in a visible range. It would not do very well for her plan if the trainee happened upon her while she was idly talking to the man he was suppose to be protecting… pursuing… both at the moment.
There was a long, rather awkward silence. Resisting the urge to fidget, Raynor did her best to remain patient. The man obvious would not be here if he did not have an objective.

And then the foreign dignitary surprised her.

Tamis Raynor took to apologies just about as well as she was at giving them – which was not very. An apology, in her opinion, was pointless. It was a social protocol where one felt obligated to verbally excuse an action another might have taken offense in. A person was either going to forgive the action or they were not, words seldom were a swaying, contributing factor. One should never apologize for something they had done – they usually would not have done it if they thought they were acting in the right. An explanation of why they choose a particular course was, usually, much more effective.

“I am not the one you need to apologize to,” she replied truthfully. While she found the notion utterly ridiculous, some people did put weight on them. Which was the only reason she, very rarely, gave one herself. Eleor would be a more fitting recipient but it was not her place to say.

Answer any questions she may have? Well, yes, there were quite a few of those. Not the most verbose person in the world, the Auror lapsed into a contemplative silence. ‘Which side are you on?’ seemed crude and abrupt, even for her. So she settled with, “Disappearing as you did made for a poor impression.”

“I am not the one you need to apologize to.”

Ahmed set the cup on the desk and crossed his arms, trying not to scowl. “For what it’s worth…” he answered skeptically, “I actually did apologize to Eleor, before he left that night.  Not that I expected it to change anything. After all he had already ignored my thanks for his saving my life, and at that point I had done nothing to earn his dislike…”

“And yet from the moment I recovered consciousness, the man behaved as if I did everything on purpose just to make his life difficult. My eyes were barely open before he started in on me about why I chose to travel by Muggle airline, without bothering to ask first if it was my choice. Then when he addressed me as Brother, and I made it clear to him that I considered his behavior less than brotherly, he chose to take offense.” Hearing the anger in his own voice, Ahmed lowered his eyes. “I know I should have been more patient with him, but I was not myself and he might have taken that into consideration.”

“Disappearing as you did made for a poor impression.”

“What had I to lose? Your man had already made up his mind that I was a hostile witness. Which makes no sense to me. Does he think I have nothing better to do with my time, than to come all this way just to be difficult?”

At the moment Ahmed was wishing with all his heart that he was back in his native mountains, painful memories and all.

It took a strong measure of control not to return the tall man’s scowl in turn. She supposed she was showing her age, with that. The same woman a decade younger would have held no such reservations. But she had enough revisitation with her fiery personality when Jonas Trevelyan showed up on her stoop, back from the grave. 

The urge to protect one of hers was overwhelming. The petite Auror had crossed her arms and then uncrossed them four times before was aware of committing the gesture. Oh, she knew the trainee had made mistakes, and she talked with him about them. It was just that no one else was allowed to bring attention to those mistakes. Especially not those outside of the Auror Office.

There was no serious harm in playing the devil's advocate, however.

“You had done a bit to earn his dislike, Sir.” She corrected with much more maturity and composure than she felt, “Just not consciously.” There could have been a hidden pun riddled in there, considering Kabir had been insensible when Eleor found him, but if it was intended Raynor purposely did not address it. “You were supposed to be a peaceful, simple mission. Within minutes he was dealing with muggle exposure, international scandal, the press, and his boss breathing down his neck – figuratively speaking,” there were not many necks that Tamis Raynor could breathe down or even reach, for that matter. “We typically ease trainees more gracefully into full service.”

He had handled himself quite well, considering. Raynor would never admit it, but she saw great potential in Eleor as an Auror, he just had to realize that potential for himself, too. She had noticed the tension between the two foreigners almost as soon as she entered the room. It had been what had swayed her to give Adon Eleor the case. The more Kabir Ahmed drove him barmy, the more he would learn from the experience and learn where he made mistakes and what he was doing right. That was why she was avoiding catching the curly haired Auror’s attention. She had a feeling this tall, mysterious man would make it difficult for the trainee, she just had not planned on how difficult. 

One of her eyebrows arched up and her persona became battle wary when the anger highlighted his voice, but he corrected himself, eyes downcast rather submissively. Raynor was accustomed to respect but not submissiveness. It was aggravating and unnerving.

“Neither of you were yourselves,” she agreed.

The conversation turned more personal in her opinion, hitting a closer to her own thoughts. She sipped the bitter brew once more before her tea cup joined his on the table. “Running from such accusations made them seem true,” she negated. “A seventeen year old boy massacred an Auror last May in front of thousands, on the anniversary of a sacred day. A Ministry Librarian with no apparent enemies was abducted, tortured, stripped of her memory, and dumped strategically alive – to make a point.” They were still working on figuring out what that point had been. “I beg your pardon, but we have come to accept the possibility than anyone can be a suspect.”

“You were supposed to be a peaceful, simple mission. Within minutes he was dealing with muggle exposure, international scandal, the press, and his boss breathing down his neck...We typically ease trainees more gracefully into full service.”

Ahmed smiled wryly. “I would have vastly preferred such an outcome.” It did not require Legilimency to observe that Raynor did not appreciate his comments about Eleor; all it took was observing that she crossed and uncrossed her arms repeatedly.

“I know I am an outsider,” he said, “and I myself would not take it well if someone I scarcely knew came into my office and criticized one of the men in my command.” In fact this was the very thing which had caused him and Sanjana to go head to head on the occasion of their first meeting. “However...even if the discussion became a bit heated...that does not mean I would automatically decide that the person was an enemy. Which...forgive me...rather appears to be the case here.”

The arched eyebrow and battle-wary persona were part of the reason he lowered his eyes, nearly as much as realizing he was losing his temper. The reaction was more due to shame than submissiveness. He was brought up that one did not bully women and he feared that is what he had been doing. This particular woman would of course scoff at the idea that he could intimidate her, but...one’s upbringing never really goes away.

He listened as she described the recent events. He had read the reports soon after they happened; and yes, the murder of one of their own...especially in such a barbarous manner...would make law enforcement personnel of any stripe twitchy. And the abduction, memory wipe and branding of a harmless librarian...to make a point...was in the end pointless, if no one could guess what the point was.

“I beg your pardon, but we have come to accept the possibility than anyone can be a suspect.”

Considering that Ahmed had shown himself to be a proud man with rather a short fuse, this statement might reasonably have been expected to set him off again. But since it came as no surprise he just nodded, a bit coolly.

 “I have come to accept the same possibility, Ms. Raynor. To be perfectly frank...that is the main reason I left. To seek an old friend’s advice as to whom I could trust.”

“I would not take well if you were the Minister himself doing the criticizing,” she admitted briskly. If she had been an owl, one might have expected her to ruffle her feathers. Which was the truth. While she would critique and reprimand those under her command in private, she would forcefully defend them in public, no matter how right or wrong an action might have been. It was not the responsibility of others to judge the Aurors, it was hers, and she would readily assume liability for them. She might kill the Auror in question personally at a later date, but she would defend them.

There was no attempt to veil his assumptions about her presumptions of him. Jaw tightened, the woman’s back (if possible) became more erect, but otherwise her visage did not deviate from the cool, composed mask. “Do not flatter yourself,” she replied a bit tense. It took a great deal more than a handful of heated words for her to consider someone a foe. If that were the case, her list of hostiles would be eons longer than it already was.

It seemed that Kabir Ahmed was also going to great lengths to remain as civilized as possible. For that, she gave him credit.

“In Hogsmeade,” Raynor agreed subtly, picking her cup back up and sipping the brew. And in that simple, two word statement, she revealed a fact that he might have guessed; she had known where he was hiding. Or at least, she had her suspicions of exact location. The Head of the Auror Office was not without contacts. And, while did not read the prophet, she did keep tabs on its reports. Knowing what they were up to generally made her job considerably easier. But it was not her case.

“If I, truly, believed you were a malevolent presence, Mr. Kabir, you would not have made it onto Hogwarts grounds.” In fact, records on the man showed he was a rather upstanding, if colorful, law enforcement entity. From what little his government had tossed the Ministry as a peace offering, at any rate. “You would not have made it out of the hospital. I assumed you would present yourself, when you were ready.”  And in the meantime, it gave Adon Eleor something to entertain himself with.

There was a long silence following his words. Trust. Such a simple word, but so paramount. “And what did your friend tell you?”

“I would not take well if you were the Minister himself doing the criticizing.”

Ahmed wondered if she knew about his unexpected meeting with Marcus Anwyll. Perhaps she thought because of his comments to her, that he might have said the same things to the Minister. This was not the case. He would not have said anything…to the Minister or anyone else…without speaking first to Eleor’s superior. However…he did feel that as an Auror himself, he was entitled to have his say about the case; which after all had affected him personally. Raynor apparently did not agree with this.

“Do not flatter yourself.” Evidently this was her way of letting him know that she was unimpressed by his potential to cause trouble. He was highly tempted to point out that had he wished, he could have stirred things up a great deal more than he did. If she was aware of the chance meeting with Anwyll she would surely know that was the perfect opportunity; Thursby’s interview would have been another. And after the events at the hospital Raynor would  know that the Chief Mugwump of the International Federation of Warlocks was an old friend, and very concerned…

“In Hogsmeade.” It came as no surprise that Raynor either knew or might have surmised where he went. After all he had eventually sent a message by way of Dragulia, to inform Eleor of his whereabouts. And Thursby had found him easily enough…

“And what did your friend tell you?”

Ahmed was fairly sure that Raynor knew which friend he meant. “She told me,” he answered warily, “that while you and she did not always see eye to eye, that you…and Eleor…were both to be trusted. That...that you were the right people to tell about…" He hesitated a moment, took a deep breath. “About a conversation I overheard. Back in Mumbai.”

While the Auror held certain reservations about the identity of Kabir Ahmed’s mysterious benefactor, she had avoided making any actual assumptions. The man left very little need for her to have to rely on them. A ‘she’ in the Hogsmeade vicinity. One that did not always ‘see eye-to-eye’ with the petite woman. That narrowed the list of possible significantly. While she was not entirely surprised, she was temporarily distracted contemplating just how many illicit operations Tulojow Nadge could successfully manage to run from her little hut…

She fell into a contemplative silence as he continued, divulging his confidante’s assurance of the Aurors worth and reliability. The way he included Eleor in his statement gave Raynor the impression that the declaration of trust had been addressed to the Auror Office as a whole, rather than select individuals. Yet, it still meant something for the healer and formally riot of an Auror to offer that much to the intentions of the Corps.

It also provoked her curiosity that the Indian native knew of the mutual American contact. He did seem to have a rather colorful assortment of them. She was, indeed, aware of his connections but failed to be impressed with them. Reputation and who a person knew never held much worth in Raynor’s eyes; it did not equate to the value of a man. That she had to determine of her own. His worth had not yet been calculated. In her line of work, she encountered many individuals criminally and politically (sometimes both) potentially troublesome. At the end of the day, she remained confident in her ability to be far more efficient of a nuisance. It was, after all, a talent she had begun perfecting from an early age.

She let the potentially harsh words between the drop, reverting from protective supervisor to considerate Auror once more. An argument was not what she was gunning for.

“What did you overhear in Mumbai?”

The reason Ahmed was thinking about his connections was that he was still trying to understand how he got into this mess. Each time he thought about it, his thoughts led back to the same place...connections. Would anyone have seriously considered making him the liaison for anything, if Vlad Dragulia was not his mentor? Annwyl appeared to be a chance encounter, nothing more. And yet...he claimed to have met and spoken with Ahmed at the Ministry, during the time when Ahmed was down for the count in St. Mungo’s.

As for Thursby...Ahmed was sure if he’d had dirt worth digging, she would have gladly dished it. But so far at least, she had been on her best behavior. He was startled and a little embarrassed when she suggested that his assailant might be a woman scorned, but now that he’d thought about it he was surprised no one else had mentioned the possibility. Of course in England he might not be considered attractive enough...

And as for Raynor, she did not strike him as the sort to be impressed by connections. What he suspected they had in common was being a thorn in the side of the status quo...

“What did you overhear in Mumbai?”

He sighed. “I was summoned there, after one of my superiors complained that I was...insubordinate. I knew what it was about, my informants had told me this officer was involved in smuggling...but...I had no proof, no way of knowing who else might be involved, or...how high up it went. So...before seeing anyone, I went to the Interdenominational Chapel. There is a small alcove facing Mecca, behind a screen. I bowed as is the custom, to pray for guidance. I thought I was alone in the chapel, but as I was about to get up and leave I heard voices. When I realized what they were talking about I stayed where I was.”

“It was...a conversation about Runespoor. Involving multiple Ministries. I do not know which Ministries, as I did not see who was talking. There were three of them, two men and a woman. They spoke in English, but...that means nothing, as I am sure you know. English is the lingua franca of Magical Ministries...”

Ahmed was not a man to be easily frightened, but the cup in his hand rattled as he set it on the saucer.

Giving the man her complete and undivided attention, Raynor watched Kabir intently as he spoke, gray eyes never favoring. Knowing almost nothing beyond the requirements necessary for her job of foreign countries and their traditions, she swiftly dismissed the customs information as insignificant and concentrated on the heart of what he was telling her. He had overheard a conversation between two men and a woman of unknown origins that tied various, likewise unknown, Ministries with three headed snakes. A small frown crossed her lips. It was all very vague.

But it was more of a lead than they had in a while. The Auror did not doubt Kabir. One thing she was learning from the man was that he spoke honestly. And if the tremor induced saucer he had been holding accounted for anything, he also believed there was a grand mystery to the conversation he had overheard.

There was a long contemplative silence in which Raynor drained the last of her own cup and placed it on a twin saucer. She trailed a finger along the rim, contemplating the weight of his words, before drawing her hand away.

“Can you recall any specifics from the conversation, any quotations? Would you be able to identify these three individuals, possibly describe them to a Profiler? Even though they were speaking English, did you notice any accents, any information at all that can distinguish them?” She asked him all very slowly, taking time to enunciate and give him time to process each question as she inquired. Details were necessary or else the information was not going to be any more useful than what they already had.

After another considering pause, Raynor glanced at her open doorway and considered closing it before reneging on that decision. While she did not wish for her next question to be overheard, attempting to shut out the Auror Office would draw far more curious ears that whatever intrigue was already sparked. She spoke quietly, “Are you suggesting, based on what you overheard, that there is international governmental involvement in the smuggling of runespoors?”