6:23 PM


Breaking and entering had been disappointingly simple.

The quaint yet unassuming building stood in Muggle London a mere walking distance from the centre of Diagon Alley. The darkened windows of the storefront of some inconsequential muggle bookstore sat at the bottom of the two levels. On the second, an aging sign creaked in the November wind, swinging to and fro as a flickering nearby streetlamp illuminated the peeling letters reading ‘Reed and Wright’. The building overall could have benefitted from a fresh coat of paint and the windows of the second story revealed less than the book cluttered ones of the first.

Gray eyes lifted from the business card and settled on the faded building numbers, flickering to the street sign at the end of the block, and then back to the building numbers. The address matched. Tamis Raynor slipped the peculiar muggle paper back into her breast pocket. It was the right place. The petite witch did not live too far from the locale. In fact, she had passed by this very building many times before, venturing toward the Muggle entrance to Diagon Alley. Like most of the towering muggle buildings that comprised their version of London she had barely every spared it a glance. Not even so much as noticed it. How long had Jonas Trevelyan been stationed here, right under their noses, living a concealed life as a private investigator?

Squelching the sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach, Raynor ignored the building questions. So close, for a decade, and no motion to contact her until he had needed to use her for something. She hindered the accusations as they were not Just. She could have looked for the man as easy, if not easier, than he could have for her. And was she now not seeking him out for the same cause?

A man down the street coughed into his fist, staring at the child-sized woman loitering in front of the commercial building. She had dressed appropriately for her venture into the muggle world, even doning her singular pair of jeans – owned for situations such as these. Even so, Tamis Raynor stilled looked out of place. Too prim and proper in clean cut lines and straight backed posture and that trench coat either labeled her a copper or trouble. Before he could decide which and call in his real coppers, Tamis waved a hand cheerfully in greeting and approached the door on the side of the building. It was locked, of course.

A touch to her wand hidden beneath her coat and a simple alohamora granted her access. The non-forced entry seemed to placate the man and coughing into his fist again, he returned to his cigarette. Muggles. Raynor nearly sighed. They were too easy to fool. Doubting Jonas was the owner of the book shop, she took to the stairs. No wards barred her way. No magical alarms or even the obnoxious noise creating systems the non magical community seemed to favor. Even though Trevelyan was clearly not in residence she found only another, easily surpassed, locked door at the top of the flight. Truthfully, she had expected a bit more… resistance… from a former Auror that had spent the last decade hiding from Death Eaters.

Well, he had to come back eventually.

Helping herself into the office, Tamis avoiding the offending light switches and while her initial plan had been to wait patiently for his return, that Ravenclaw curiosity got the best of her. With an illuminated wand tip as her aid, she traveled the length of the front room, peering at shelves and tugging at the occasional door that was unlocked. She avoided the box she knew muggles watched their moving pictures on and thought better against sitting on the old ratty couch. Her morals withstood, however, and she did cross the barrier into the back room, which, while dark, held the signs of a living quarters rather than an Office. Everything seemed, surprisingly, well organized. Surprising as Tamis Raynor intimately knew the habits of Investigators – they were not by nature organized nor the best at penmanship. There were a few stacks of files and papers lingering, but everything seemed fairly filed away.

Finally, the Auror settled behind the Private Investigator’s desk, unable to resist seeing what type of materials a muggle private investigator dealt with. They were not all muggle cases, she discovered as she flipped through a fifth file, one elbow resting on his desk, peering down at the documents by the aid of a couple of conjured candles. It gave the desk and the perpetrator sitting at it a prominent orange glow in the otherwise darkened interior.

At long last she heard the stairs creak and groan, announcing the entrance of a second person. Long hair obscuring part of her face, she did not look up at the new, rightful, arrival. Instead,

“You might want to consider better security arrangements,” she turned a page of the file. It was a rather boring one. Something about a Widow Dorey and an absurd amount of missing relatives. It was all a bunch of codswallop in her opinion. “You never know what will waltz in.”



Thread title, once more, compliments of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

It wasn't as if he ever forgot to secure the door.  It had become a running joke with Anna - 'Did you want to go and check the locks?' she'd ask just as they were getting ready to leave, knowing he already had three times over.  Jonas had always considered it a survival trait.  Lock the doors before one goes out, check for escape before one sits, and never, ever get trapped with someone else between one and the exit.

Admittedly, he'd gotten a bit less jumpy as the years had past.  An ever-present state of alertness was hard to maintain once the threat of danger had died away and it became less and less likely that he'd ever be found.  But when he fumbled with his key and the door clicked open without an effort, it was if the hard knot in his stomach had never relaxed.

It had been a long day, though not the sort of long that he'd ever complain about.  In retrospect, taking his nine-year-old daughter and his five-year-old son to the War Rooms museum had not been the most brilliant idea he'd ever had.  Gwenna wasn't at all interested in history - she had complained the entire way there and dragged her feet as they'd walked to the entrance - and Artie, for all his current obsession with soldiers, had not been impressed with the talking boxes that made up the self-guided tour.  To top things off, the equipment had been frustratingly ill-maintained, and after Gwenna's second audio guide had shorted, Jonas had relented and taken them both across the river to walk along the Thames instead.

But despite the arguing and complaining, despite the aching in his leg being even worse than usual after lugging a five year old about all day, these every-odd Saturdays had quickly become his favorites of the month.  He hated to think how much he missed Gwenna and Artie.  Their absence stabbed at him, but there was little that he could do about it besides accepting and soldiering on.

Staring up the darkened stairway, he could make out the outline of the upper door, barely illuminated by a brief, flickering light from inside.  Someone was in his office.  Jonas was at once immensely grateful that he'd dropped the children at the house instead of bringing them back with him.  Slowly and carefully, he drew his wand, pulling the sleeve of his jacket down over his hand to conceal it.  Whoever was up there was not bothering to hide.  If they were here for an ambush, they could bloody well take their best shot.

He limped up the stairs and eased open the door.  Candles that he had very definitely not purchased set a flickering light dancing across his desk, illuminating a female figure that he would likely have recognized even if she hadn't chosen that moment to open her mouth and offer her own take on helpful advice.

Jonas couldn't help giving her an incredulous look.  "Yeah, I really ought to talk to someone about that," he replied, his eyes flickering carefully over the visitor.  No visible wand, so she wasn't likely planning to ambush him - and even if she were, she could have done so much more effectively by locking the door and simply waiting.  From what he could see, the rest of the room was empty as well.  "Maybe Magical Law Enforcement have a pamphlet they can lend me.  You reckon you can owl one on next time you're in the office?"

Now that the threat was revealed, the sharp fear in his stomach was threatening to twist into anger.  Tamis Raynor knew what he'd been through; she knew why he'd left ten years ago, and she had to know what the intervening time had been like.  This was his office, his home turf, and there were more politic ways to announce her presence than appearing at his desk and scaring the bloody hell out of him when he'd been about all day long. 

But then, she had probably lived with enough paranoia herself over the years.  It occurred to him that he'd interrupted her world even more abruptly.  Swallowing, Jonas forced the emotion down, giving her the briefest incline of the head in acknowledgement as he freed his hand from its sleeve and returned his wand to a pocket.

Considering the situation took a long moment.  There was no reason that the Head of the Auror Office should appear at his doorstep.  Jonas had been treading as carefully as he could, staying well out of any sort of wizarding mess even after Halloween.  His side of their bargain had clearly been kept.  Unless he had unintentionally and unknowingly crossed a line, he had no idea why Raynor would pay him a visit.  He briefly considered flicking on the lights and flooding out her bloody candles with potent Muggle electricity, but slowly kindling curiosity held him off.  If it meant finding out why she'd come, he could afford to let her remain in control of the situation.

"You really ought to have a warrant before you read those," he offered unnecessarily, nodding to the file in her hands as he limped into the room and eased himself into the chair on the side of the desk normally reserved for clients.  Sitting at this angle was disconcerting, made more so by the flickering candlelight, but he wasn't about to give his unexpected visitor the satisfaction of asking her to switch.  "And I charge twice the regular rate for consultations outside of business hours."

Finally settled, he frowned, allowing a hint of concern to creep into his expression.  "Why are you here, Tamis?"

The steps croaked with an irregular cadence that was easy enough to associate with Jonas Trevelyan’s compromised stride. Cautious, alert, careful; he had not overlooked the unlocked door. Loitering suspiciously outside the commercial building would not have favored discretion. She knew the inherent risks in sneaking into an Aurors’s residence, present or former: especially one that had spent the greater portion of a decade living in paranoia. She had left a warning sign in hopes against increasing the probability of being hexed upon discovery. Not-so-subtle revenge was not an ill-wanted side-effect, though it was sure to be ill-received.

Still not redirecting her attention, she heard rather than saw the door unlatched, provoked by the slow and steady, almost undetectable, twist of the knob. The hinges barely creaked as the door inched inward. There was hesitation and the threshold, and she would not precisely classify it as relief, but he had not hexed her.

Tamis Raynor finally glanced up, just in time to catch the reproach as it filtered unadulterated across his visage. She imagined it might be the way an older brother would consider a younger sister that had invaded his room, been found playing with his toys, and if the satisfaction of running to Mum would be worth being labeled a snitch. The imagery was amusing yet short lived. Contemplating familiar bonds, even false ones, was currently a sensitive issue.

Even in the flicker of the candlelight, Raynor knew he recognized her. She would not expect the quick, suspicious deduction of whether or not she was armed to have cut at her – but it did. The lack of trust was unjust but not warranted. A long moment later she stowed his concealed wand. She pretended not to notice.

The continued conversation about his lack of proper security was a verbal occupation as the man grappled with the details of this situation. It was a diversionary tactic most Aurors learned and became embedded in their subconscious. “If it would not be a waste of parchment,” she humored him, hands resting on top of the file and clearly present so that he could see where they were and what they were doing. There was an undertone of anger as the initial adrenalin rush seemed to fade, but unlike the favor the comrade had bestowed upon him, she did greet it with sarcastic humor.

Teenage years of exploration had warranted a fair estimation of how far she could push the man while still keeping him rational. Yet, she was not willing to risk her objective on a decade old amateur personality profiling.

“I did not browse through anything that looked of sustenance,” she admitted honestly, flipping the file closes as he took the chair in front of his own desk.  Curiosity, boredom, and the awkwardness of lying illegally in wait had provoked a need to keep her entertained. She had hoped to learn a little bit about what the man had been up to in the past ten years and the files were well kept if not exactly revealing. He seemed vastly to be in commission of a lost and found operation.  At the mention of wages, a smirk filtered across her lips. “I can afford it,” she replied. It was hard to keep sarcasm out of this entirely; it comprised the foundation of their pseudo-friendship.

The irony was almost overwhelming as Jonas questioned her with the exact phrase she had wielded against him a month ago. It had not taken him quite as long to get around to it. Gray eyes considered him for a long moment, clearly contemplating whether or not to jump directly to the chase or let him flounder for a while.

“Are you always this blunt with clients?” she asked in response, deciding to settle somewhere in between.

Jonas would have liked to think that the look he gave the Auror in return was dry enough to evaporate the Atlantic.

"Yeah, but usually just the ones who break into the office and get candle wax all over the desk," he replied nicely.  "Although at least you're more polite than the last bloke who came through.  He just pulled a gun on me and said he was here for the little black Falcon."

It should have been obvious that she wouldn't come here for any reason but to hire him.  Jonas knew better than to expect anything different.  He and the miniature-sized Ravenclaw had never been close, never been friends, and it wasn't as if he expected her to suddenly start inviting him down to the local pub to catch up on the years they'd missed just because he'd been out of touch.

Coming from her, though, the word 'client' was anything but reassuring.  From what he remembered, the Head of the Auror Office had every investigator on Level Two at his (or her) beck and call, for better or for worse.  Why Tamis Raynor would want to hire him on when she had so many more-tolerable underlings to do her bidding was a mystery.  If she really needed something looked into, all she had to do was wave her wand and some overeager youngster in a red cloak would probably poof into being.

Jonas frowned, his forehead creasing as he regarded the woman thoughtfully.  Unless it was something that a regular Auror couldn't get to, which likely meant something in the Muggle realm.  The idea of being used to do the Ministry's dirty work made him feel unsettled, as if a line in his life was being crossed that shouldn't be.  He had made his peace with re-entering magical society when he'd taken out the ads in the Prophet a few months back, but doing something magical in the mundane world still set him uneasy.  There was a firm division between his role as a wizard and his role with his family, and it wasn't a barrier he was willing to let fall.

Not that the barrier couldn't have fallen in spite of his efforts, he realized.  His current visitor made that all too obvious.  It would have been easy for some other witch or wizard to Alohomora their way into his office and see the pictures of his family sitting on his desk or one of Artie's drawings up on the wall.  When he'd hired Lexus, he'd carefully scoured the two rooms to remove any sign that he had children or had ever been married.  He'd even begrudgingly taken to returning Anna's calls on his cell phone so that she didn't have a reason to call the office line.  At the time, it had been because he wanted to be cautious around the unknown quantity that was the Canadian witch, but it would have been too easy for another magic user to find out and use the knowledge to their benefit.

Sudden, intense gratitude at the unintentional good fortune flooded through him.  If Tamis Raynor had visited a few weeks earlier, she would have broken down the barrier all on her own.

Jonas took a deep breath, and then raised an eyebrow as he looked to Tamis.  "Second drawer down," he said, nodding to indicate the side of the desk.  "Pass me one of the notebooks, would you?"

If Tamis Raynor was only here to hire him, then he was back in control of the exchange.  She had returned his favor of appearing unannounced; they were even on that count.  She had agreed to help him, but he'd agreed to help Level Two in return, even if the larger debt remained unsettled.  But Jonas would be damned if he spent the rest of his life running to and fro for the Ministry to repay what Tamis had done for him.  If that was what this was turning into, he was not about to happily give in and cooperate.

"And you aren't a client until I take the case," he added, slanting her a bemused look.  "Which, if I remember correctly, wasn't what you wanted in return for giving me access, yeah?  We agreed to me passing on any helpful bits I hear, not me doing you favors."

A solitary eyebrow rose in a sharp arch and a small smirk compressed her lips, polite but lacking mirth.

 “I appreciate the comparison.” There was a touch of disapproval hidden in those words. Sarcasm emanated naturally from the man so profoundly that it was occasionally difficult to tell the cynicism from truth. Usually, context made it apparent but when the subject matter landed in the realm of the muggle, well, Tamis Raynor did not make assumptions. His lack of fortified protection methods did concern her. Making a larger ordeal of it would not help her cause, however.

Leaning forward on one elbow, she appraised him silently, calculating. One of the two candles glided upward and to the left to avoid her as the petite woman nudged closer to it. She paid it little heed, maintaining her concentration. Shadows drifted in waves across Jonas’ lean face as he finally settled across from her, revealing little. He seemed to be similarly appraising her and Raynor wondered what explanation he was attaching to her sudden appearance. She did not move to relinquish his rightful seat and they both knew he was not going to ask.

Allowing him to absorb everything, she watched his forehead crease and then finally relaxed with a generous exhalation. Whatever he had decided about all of this, he was at least going to humor her.

Without fuss, the Auror slid open the indicated with far more familiarity than she should have had and slipped the small pad of peculiarly lined, thin, wannabe parchment across the desk. She had seen it before and had considered incorporating the item into the Auror Office. Maybe Muggles and Aurors shared the same affinity for poor penmanship which put the need for lines in demand. After another moment, her fingers trailed over the skinny cylinder instruments on the desk, frowning in contemplation. She knew muggles likewise had quill substitutes, yet which – she ended up giving him the entire cup full. He could select his own damn, foreign, writing utensil.

Tamis Raynor was a lot of things but she did not consider Foolish to be one of them. She had risked a great deal aiding Jonas Trevelyan a decade ago and she knew he had not forgotten. There were very few consistencies that remained from her life. Having had a youth sandwiched between two historical wizarding wars, many of their generation had perished.  Even as teenagers her interactions with Jonas had been snarky, sarcastic, and a game of wills. They might never fully get along, but there was an understanding there. She would not ask the favor rendered to be repaid and, if the opportunity arose, would give it again. Because she cared for him. He was her last connection to a man that had sacrificed everything for her. She would never fully stop blaming herself for Tait Aldridge’s demise.

She would never call in that debt, but she knew it stood between them. There was something magical about when a wizard saves the life of another, some uncomfortable binding bond. Raynor could not help but wonder if it was that obligation, and only that obligation, that was making him tolerable of her now.

This would test that theory. As well as her humility.

She leaned back in the chair and let out a deep breath of air.

 “I, Tamis Raynor, wish to hire you.”  Not the Ministry of Magic. Not the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Not the Aurors Office. Her. Running a hand through her hair, a touch of weariness, even reluctance illuminated her gaze with indecision, and, for the first time since Jonas arrived, she allowed her composure to slip, just a little, to reveal her apprehension. She had come to ask for his help and she had not been all too certain about doing it.

It was easier to talk about the terms of employment before the subject matter, so she did. Tamis Raynor had infinite pride, asking for aide was detrimental. Asking for Jonas Trevelyan’s about this was insufferable. But it was necessary. The longer she could avoid it the better. “Your commission would come from my personal funds; you would not appear on a Ministry payroll. By working for me you would be granted restricted access to Level Two, including all case files open to the public. No one would question who you are or what you are doing there.” Not unless they wished to risk provoking the Head Auror and a good many went out of their way to avoid that from happening. “If you do not want the case, there are other ways to grant you access. This is independent of our agreement.” He would want the case. She was sure of it.

There was no way to ease into this. But the words to explain got caught in her throat. From beneath the files she had been illegally reviewing, she produced a thicker, older looking one – bound in canvas. Silently, she handed it to him.

Jonas had taken the notebook, but he set it down in front of him, letting it lay unopened as a pen found its place next to it.  Something about the evening visit, the Auror's demeanor, the whole affair, left him feeling vaguely unsettled, as if there were a man with a gun waiting just offstage. 

The woman's next words settled it.  She cut off his first protest before he could make it - that, proper paperwork submitted or not, disappearing for ten years really ought to count as an official resignation, and he'd like to stay retired from that particular line of work, thanks.  Taking on a case for Tamis Raynor personally was much different than working for the Ministry, which he could have raised a sound and a fury about. 

If one were to get technical, there really wasn't much of a difference between working for the woman or for the office.  He was still likely to be running interference for her either way.  But the latter brought all sorts of principles with it, ones he wasn't quite prepared to give up on just yet.  The former made it personal.

Jonas owed her.  He knew it.  Even if he hadn't, if they'd been in karmic harmony with each other, he still couldn't say no if she asked him for help.  He and Tamis Raynor had never gotten along in school, had put up with each other simply because they'd both been close to the same person and tolerance had been thrust upon them, but in the years between Tait's death and his own departure, mere tolerance had transformed into a grudging respect and a rarely admitted trust.  They might not agree on the inconsequential, but some ideas were important enough to breach the gap.  Just as he knew that Raynor wouldn't ask for his help unless there were no other recourse, Jonas was similarly certain that the only cause she'd take up was one that was right and true.

Normally, though, even that knowledge wouldn't have stopped him from making the current conversation as difficult as possible for her.  Maybe he was getting soft, maybe he was just tired after an exhausting day with the kids, but Jonas bit his tongue and kept his month firmly shut as she went on, outlining the terms of the offer.  Even aside from owing Tamis Raynor, he owed Tait Aldridge too.  The least he could do was refrain from driving his former best mate's former fiancee to suicide by mouthing off when she was asking for his help.

The terms were straightforward enough, and certainly to his benefit.  It was clear that Raynor had thought the offer through.  Jonas frowned at her thoughtfully, mulling over the details in his head.  Working for the Head of the Auror Office would have its perks, although there could be dangers there as well.  It would make accessing files much simpler, and she had to know that he'd be looking at folders that dealt with matters beyond whatever Muggle-oriented case she wanted him to take on.  As long as he were careful to stay anonymous, not to be identified by too many Ministry workers, it was a risk worth taking.

Jonas simply listened as she spoke, keeping his expression as blank as he could.  When she slid the folder across to him, though, he arched an eyebrow, meeting her gaze for an instant before reaching across to take it.

It was an older file, one that had clearly spent quite some time in the Ministry archives.  Back when he'd been younger, they had used to joke that the Level Two case files themselves took on a personality of their own.  A coffee stain here, a drop of something unidentifiable there - Aurors were usually not the best at keeping paperwork clean and presentable, and most of their documents showed the wear  the profession.  Each one was unique, the stains and tears artifacts to the Aurors who had come before. 

There were a half dozen of the older files from cases that he'd worked on that Jonas still imagined he could recognize by sight, but this wasn't one of them.  He frowned at it for a moment, and then carefully opened it, immediately realizing why.

He'd never been assigned to the Runespoor investigation.  Before Tait's death, he'd had his own duties, and afterwards, he had been expressly forbidden from even thinking about it.  Jonas could still remember being called into Scrimgeour's office, sitting down opposite the then-Head Auror, and hearing the news.  Something had gone wrong.  There had been an ambush, an accident.  Before he could even offer, before he could recover enough to ask, it had been made very clear that he was not to get involved.  Aurors would be assigned certainly, but he was to stay very far away from the investigation involving the murder of his best friend.

Jonas hadn't entirely let that stop him, but the ban had certainly clipped his wings.  He knew bits and pieces about the Runespoor case, remembered some of the key players, but he had never been involved enough to know most of the details.

Which of course begged the question of why Tamis Raynor was bringing this particular case to him now.

Jonas regarded the file for a moment longer.  Carefully, he looked back up at the woman, blue eyes meeting gray, as he let it lay open on the desk in front of him.  "Would've thought that this one was being handled by the best on Level Two," he remarked, in as mildly a voice as he could manage.  "There any particular reason why you're suddenly looking to outsource it?"

As a practical mute, Tamis Raynor watched as Jonas Trevelyan opened the leather bound file with significant delicacy as if he expected the binding to be inflicted with some ill-mannered curse. She watched his face as he read the heading and quickly glanced down as the shock – and more intimate emotions – contorted his visage. It had happened to her when she had first looked inside and had been thankful to have been alone, the least she could do was not stare at him.

Sitting upright now, there was a tension in Tamis Raynor’s shoulders that went beyond simply impeccable posture. Like Jonas, she had been denied access to that file for a grand many years. The Office was very strict about personal relations to cases, she would know, it was why she similarly would not let Eleor work the October first murder investigation. Why she had not become intimately involved in Benjamin Timmins murder or Akiva’s Kidnapping after she had been found.  And why the Runespoor investigation case files had been off limits to her until four years ago, when she had been promoted to Head Auror. And even then she had not had a reason to until recently.

It was unnerving, flipping through a file to find yourself fourteen years younger blinking back up at you from the page, pale and stricken, and tear stained. Then she had found the crime scene photos… and slammed it shut. Over a decade had passed and she did not need to revisit those memories. She could have flipped ahead, to older reports but was afraid to do so as well. There were good reasons why the personally involved did not work those cases.

When the man did finally look at her, she meet his gaze, willing to answer whatever questions he would ask. Questions she would answer fully and completely no matter what they were – as long as it was not one particular question. The one she had been avoided and had avoided ever answering.

The words hurt, but she knew no matter how they were phrased that they were going to. She trusted Jonas Trevelyan. That was not common for the Head Auror and there were few people she trusted and even fewer that she threw her faith into as much as she did this man.

Producing her wand, she cast a sound barrier on the immediate vicinity surrounding the pair. It was doubtful that his office was rigged, even more doubtful if it was magically so, but she was not willing to take the risk. She leaned in,

“Recent developments in our investigations suggest that there may be Ministry Corruption involved in the upper circuits of the Runespoor Smuggling rings. The Indian Ministry is almost positively involved – the United Kingdom is suspected. At this point it is speculation from one man's eye witness report. If it is there, in any of the Ministries, it may have been there for a couple of decades.”

She stopped and leaned back, letting them both comprehend that. It was a possibility she was not ready to face. Swallowing hard, her eyes glistened more than they should have when she meet his gaze again, but she was otherwise composed. She had never fully let go of Tait Aldridge and was not sure she could. Despite the hardened exterior, despite the confidence and emotional distance she displayed every single day, underneath there was still a burned woman with considerable insecurities.

“As you might imagine, my office cannot officially conduct an investigation that could potentially incriminate the government it serves.” It could, but the consequences would be disastrous politically. If there was corruption, she did not believe it was coming from the top. Marcus Annwyl was simply not capable of it. But somewhere, someone. And if it had been going on as long as it had, they were smart enough and esteemed enough to pull strings and cover up and not get caught. “But you can.” She mulled over her next words, “My lead investigator on the Runespoor activity has also recently become… indisposed… and all of my top Aurors are currently otherwise obligated. I … need someone I can trust.”

That last sentence came out as if her jaw had been wired shut. It had almost been as painful as the analogy suggested.  But even if he bulked, and there was good reason to, she knew he would never share the information she had just given him.

If there was any doubt in his mind that this wasn't some sort of joke, it vanished the moment that the Auror drew her wand.  Jonas couldn't help sitting up a little straighter, his eyes flickering warily to the focus of the magic as she cast the spell.  It had been so long since he'd lived openly amongst wizards that it was hard not to be jumpy when one brought magic into what was, for better or for worse, his home.  Taking a deep breath, he rolled his shoulders back and waited for her to finish casting and begin speaking.

It wasn't a joke.  That much, Jonas was certain of.  There was no way that Tamis Raynor would be handing him this sort of information if she didn't intend for him to do something with it.  Although it certainly could be some large, elaborate set up (which he wouldn't have put past her in their school days, even if life's misfortunes had sobered her sense of humor by the time they'd become co-workers), he couldn't imagine she would risk such misinformation leaking its way out to the press.  This sort of information, a conspiracy that spanned governments and continents, was not anything that one spread lightly.

And the implications were easy to take in.  Jonas let out a quick breath, his eyebrows raising as she paused.  If there was Ministry involvement, it could stretch back decades.  If it stretched back decades, it was almost certainly present in the 1990s - which brought a whole new hue and color to the murder of the Auror who had been leading the investigation back then.  He'd always taken Tait's death at face value, assumed he'd been killed because of what he had done - but if there was more to the story, a whole other level to the investigation beyond what he'd suspected, maybe Tait Aldridge had been killed not just for what he had done, but for what he had been about to do.

He listened carefully as the Auror went on, watching her for any hint of a greater truth, another motivation.  As far as Jonas could remember, hiring an outside consultant to take on work for Level Two wasn't just not done, it was unthinkable - but then, even back in the day he had hardly been the highest ranking Auror, so maybe this sort of thing was less uncommon than he had known.  The sentiment behind her words made an unfortunate sort of sense; if there really was corruption in the British Ministry, it would take an independent investigator to ferret it out.

But that wasn't him.  He didn't have the means or the power to take something like this on, and as much as there was the tiny yet incessant thought that this was finally, finally the chance to put his best mate's ghost to rest, this wasn't his life anymore.  The villains behind the Runespoor smuggling had had no qualms about murdering at least one Auror, had probably killed dozens more witnesses, victims, and law enforcement officers alike.  Ten years ago, he wouldn't have balked at the risk, but the even the thought of it today made him think guiltily of Gwenna and Artie's faces and how much worse that hard, cold feeling of loss could be in 2008 compared to what he had suffered in 1994.

Her last statement, though, was definitely worth the scare she had given him by breaking into his office.

"Well, too bad you're stuck with me then," he remarked lightly, not doing a very effective job of swallowing a smile.  "But we make do with what we can, yeah"

He let out a long breath, leaning back in his chair as he ran both hands over his face.  It was as if now that he had firmly decided not to get involved in this bloody case, life was purposely testing his resolve. 

"Look, Tamis," he said at last, glancing to meet her gaze.  "It's been eleven years since I worked in MLE.  I'm more than a bit rusty on how things are done, and to be frank, I'm not looking to come back and work for the Ministry again.  It'd make it a hell of a lot more bloody difficult to do me job, besides.  I'm not going to get hired on once folks hear that I'm running favors for Level Two."

Which was certainly true - it wasn't as if he had a lot of connections in the wizarding underworld, but he had a few and he still wanted to build on them.  Jonas could hardly imagine Tawse or Ashford inviting him to stop by for drinks once word got out that he was playing lapdog for Tamis Raynor.  Lexus, too, would not take to it kindly.  He might not know the full story behind his assistant's predicament, but he had his suspicions, and she certainly was not in favor of drawing the Ministry's attention to her location.

They were all excuses, he knew, and some of them were good ones.  But they weren't quite the truth.

"Not to mention that the lead investigator on the Runespoor case seems to have an awful habit of becoming indisposed," Jonas remarked evenly, affecting as nonchalant a tone as he could as he glanced up at the ceiling.  "It was one thing to take risks when I was twenty-two, but things change, yeah?  What happens when the bastards find out I'm on the case and decide they ought to run me off of it?"

There was so much to be said in watching a person’s facial expressions. The majority of all communication was nonverbal. It was amazing how many signs were often overlooked for the sake of conversation. Words were, after all, simply a means to express more profoundly how one was feeling and yet, quite often enough, a great deal was lost in the translation. Tamis Raynor preferred to observe more than she spoke. It allowed for greater insight.

So they sat, for several long moments, locked in a staring match that held no real challenge, just evaluation as they tried to reach each other’s intent. Every creasing of the eye or twitch of the nose was carefully noted. After an eternity, he commented on issues of trust and she smirked daringly back at him. “Desperation has an alarming effect on sensibility,” she quipped in return, almost teasing.

He ran his hands over his face and Raynor could feel the rejection in the air before he got around to mentioning it. He was at least kind in his wording and his points were valid.

“You misunderstand.” Tamis leaned back and trailed her fingers through her hair. “I am not asking you to conduct an investigation as befits the regulations of my Office. The Ministry need not even be aware of the transgressions.” That was the difference between taking the case for the Auror Office or for Tamis Raynor, however slight and technical it may be, that technicality made it significant. This was entirely under-the-table.

 “Any of your findings would be reported directly back to me by whatever means you are most comfortable with.” She felt it unnecessary to say as long as those means were secure. As an afterthought she added, dryly, “As long as it does not include any more nighttime espionages at my flat.” Especially when there was a new residential fixture in said apartment she would have a hard time explaining that one to.

His final words might as well have been a physical blow to the face. It stung. And it showed. But there was little that she could do to deny the truth they held, however brutal. “I am very well aware of what these perpetrators are capable of,” she replied very softly. The fingertips of her hands pressed against the edge of his desk turned white. She had witnessed the risk. Had experienced it. And she had been nothing more than a bystander caught in the wrong place at the wrong time and that had not saved her.

“Things change,” she agreed. They had changed almost entirely. Tamis knew what she was asking him and she did not do so lightly. The last thing she wanted to do after discovering Jonas Trevelyan was not among the afterlife (if she believed in such things) was to send him there. She had not known where else to turn.

“Consider the offer,” she told him, rising from his chair. “That file will return to my Office in the morning. Look it over, regardless of what you decide.” While she was running out of options on how to handle certain aspects of this case, Raynor was not going to attempt to corner Jonas into the case. She (begrudgingly) cared too much for the man – not that she would ever admit it.

He didn't misunderstand, but Jonas stayed quiet as she spoke anyhow, resting his elbows on the desk and his chin in his hands.  Asking him to investigate, well, the whole bloody entirety of the wizarding government might not make this an official case, but if he actually found anything, he damned well knew it was going to need to hold up to legal standards.  Tamis Raynor was hardly the sort to encourage the dispensation of cowboy justice, and for all the sour taste that his last days with the Ministry had left in his mouth, Jonas wasn't about to go riding off as if this were the frontier.  The logic was there - no one inside could ever be free enough of influence to conduct a truly independent investigation.  But for such an investigation to hold up legally, it still had to follow Ministry rules.

She wouldn't be asking him if she didn't need the help.  Jonas seized on that thought and held onto it.  There were debts between them that he knew that he couldn't repay, but the price of this was higher than what he would give without reservation.  Chasing after silly daggers, poking around in Knockturn Alley - that sort of thing might put him in danger, but the risk didn't extend farther than that.  But this, investigating a government, hunting down criminals that had eluded the best in law enforcement for decades - this adversity cast a shadow beyond simply him. 

At least the answer was simple.  He had to find a way from keeping anyone from involving his family.  If he took this on, if he paid favor back with favor, he had to guarantee that no one followed him home the way they had Tait Aldridge all those years ago.  Leaving his Muggle life wasn't nearly as simple as putting away his wand had been a decade before.  Jonas knew he'd have to talk to Anna, make excuses, apologize to the kids.  The thought of not seeing them for months was almost painfully solid in his stomach, but it was the only definite way to make certain that this mess couldn't touch them.

For an instant, he wondered what Tait would do.  It was too bad that he couldn't ask Tamis Raynor.

Jonas cracked a smile at the nighttime espionage comment, flashed her a grin to let her know that she wasn't out of the woods yet.  He'd already done it once, so showing up at her house again wasn't worth it unless he desperately needed to talk to her and had no other method of contact.  There had to be some new, even more irritating place that he could appear.

His last words hit her, and they seemed to ring too true, as Raynor accepted them all too easily.  Jonas glanced down, pressing his lips together.  Telling her about the change, letting her revisit the past ten years, would negate the only protection that he had.

"Yeah, I will," he said simply, not looking up at her.  At the very least, he could test the magical protections against duplication that he was certain had been placed on the official file.  With any luck, he and the local all-night copy store could give a decent go.  "Send you an owl in the morning, shall I?"

The tension that had been mounting in the small office reached an invisible peak and Tamis briefly wondered if every encounter between them would end in such a matter. She might have joked about it had the subject matter not been so horrifyingly serious or if he would have actually looked up at her. She stared down at the man (not something she was very used to), for a long moment and then slowly nodded to herself as she doubted he would notice the motion.

“I will be expecting it,” was her only reply, taking the dismissal at face value.

There was perhaps too much painful history between the pair for them ever to kick back behind two cups of tea and exchange in at least more light hearted sarcasm. And this encounter had revisited far too much of it. Raynor accepted that but it did not mean, even if she refused to admit it, that she did not care. So when she reached the door, her hand fitted to the knob, twisted, and then stilled. She hesitated, looking back at him.

The other reason she had come here tonight.

“Take caution of continued patronage at the Black Chimaera,” she told him. It was not a reprimand or a statement of disapproval. Just simple advice. “Cináed Tawse and his crowd are not… forward thinkers. Nor are they fans of Aurors, past or present.”

It was the most that she could say while still honoring the confidentiality surrounding her career. There was a lot that was left unsaid, but some things did not need to be. Her hand completed its journey and she swiftly left. When she was gone, the pair of candles flickering on his desk vanished with her, leaving Jonas Trevelyan in the dark.