The letters were full of anger and frustration. It was evident a teenager had put thoughts to paper and owled them regardless of any offence these propositions would cause. Pratt grit his teeth as he scanned through one, reading the accusations of being ‘incompetent’ and having an ‘inability to carry out justice’. His full energy had not been put into this case, that was evident. He’d let personal life get in the way of focusing on one of the most important ongoing cases in the department.

This case, mostly referred to as ‘2045’ in contrast to its actual name describing the crime having taken place. No one in the department wanted to put much thought into this crime. Few aurors had offered themselves up to the case. One auror had been taken onto the case and so far he’d failed to do it justice. Edward Pratt now had to solve the questions, doubts and mysteries regarding the Remembering Day Murders.

Pratt was still adamant that a young seventeen year old lad could not cause murder such as this without a massive, prominent motive, none of which he was yet satisfied with. No motive could explain how this lad could brutally decapitate an auror and kill a wizengambot elder in front of a huge audience of student minors, civilians and top aurors.

The letters had come in every couple of weeks or so from Leon Carter’s youngest daughter, demanding justice to be carried out. The young less was obviously angry about Gibson now having been captured and wanted the auror department to pull their fingers out. Eddie couldn’t have agreed more and he needed to crack this case. It wasn’t as if this was the only case going on, either.

It was only a couple of weeks ago that Gawain Robards had been murdered and Eddie was also focusing on this case. He was overworked and as he made his way to the front desk of the auror department, he looked shattered.

Long black robes shrouded Ed’s broad figure and an shirt sat comfortably over his torso, top buttons undone. The auror’s blonde hair sat, messy on the top of his head and his bright eyes distracted slightly from the darkened bags underneath them. Apparently balancing a stressful job with a massive work overload and restarting a large family and a pregnant wife proved a little too much.

“S’fine, Peggy, she’s with me.” Eddie mumbled to the receptionist who was stood, refusing to let a young woman enter the department. Security was of vital importance here.

“Ye must be Miss Carter?” Pratt questioned, his attention on the young woman as he thrust his hand out to be shaken. “Auror Pratt. Ye best follow me, lass.”

Emmylou had been writing him for months. Collectively, she'd spent more time and wasted more parchment on Edward Pratt than she had on any school assignment since May of last semester. She’d been more invested in his attention than in the attention of any silly schoolboy. She’d been angry, hostile, pleading, sly, blunt and any manner that might earn her favor... or at least a reluctant ear.

Her chance came, one late morning, when she'd conned Leonora into writing her a day pass to Hogsmeade for a "family emergency"... And had promptly escaped the village for London.

It had been easier than she’d planned. One simply had to know how to twist Nora’s wrists. It was easy; the girl was such a prude. Sometimes Emmy wondered how they were related, let alone sisters, but then she remembered that their father had loved them both, and that this wasn’t just for her. It was justice. They all wanted it. Even if they weren’t as loud as Lou.

Apparating into the alley between a coffee shop and convenience store, Emmy caught her breath and stared determinedly at the unassuming phone booth across the road. Waiting for traffic to become less dense, she crossed the street swiftly, and folded herself into the bright red box. Lifting the phone receiver, she dialed ‘MAGIC’ and found herself sinking into the ground, like a living victim in a vertical coffin.

With a shudder, she lost sight of the busy london above, and landed gently but firmly on the first level of the ministry. Stepping out of the box, she paused for a moment's studiousness, and then approached the receptionist, demanding none-too-softly that Edward Pratt be produced.

Lou grew impatient as any good Gryffindor, ready to barrel past the unimpressed woman and find the man herself. But it proved unnecessary, for a moment later, there he was in the flesh: Auror Edward Pratt, elusive recipient of her letters.

She recognized him, just barely, from the photos in the paper. They didn’t do him justice, miniscule and black-and-white. It was almost strange, that he might have a likable face. Lou tried to see past this, putting on a sour smile, unfolding her arms, and offering a hand to meet his.

“Lou,” she corrected him, shaking his hand once before dropping it. “And you’re Edward. Did you like my last Howler?”

Following him past security, and into the main of the government mousetrap, Emmylou was struck with the familiarity of the scene: robes swishing this way and that, as people caught elevators, paper plane notes, or the nods of fellow Ministry employees. She’d been here, time and time again, to visit her father when she was a small girl. And then in the summers, to loom around, waiting for important Wizengamot business to finish so that he could buy her ice-cream. And then later, when Molly had joined the workforce. But she hadn’t stepped foot inside since last winter. Before her father had been killed by a schoolmate-- a boy in Lou’s own house and year.

Edward unashamedly took a step back. This lass was...different. After he’d once again gathered his resolve, a small smirk graced Edward’s features. “Thank you for reminding me, lass.” He chanced a quick comment as his hands dug comfortably into his robe pockets, the left one clarifying the position of his wand and the right one simply sitting comfortably within the snug material. Ed wasn’t overly sure how to handle a teenage girl. Especially a grieving seventeen year old girl who’d been harassing him with hate mail and demands for justice for at least three months now. Ed figured he should just act normally and see where that got him. Well that would have gone perfectly until she corrected him matter-of-factly and informed him how she’d be addressing him from then on. No-one in this building called him Edward. Only his mum did...and his wife when she was angry.

“The entire auror office liked it, lass.” He replied gruffly while turning on his heel and heading promptly back in the direction he’d emerged from, not seemingly bothered about whether the young girl kept up with him or not. “Especially the part when ye compared me and my colleagues to a gang of incompetent and probably incontinent trolls.” He pulled a face. That would just be unpleasant. Children always used the most interesting descriptions. He knew; he had three of the little blighters.

Moving past the first section of security, Ed simply flashed his auror badge as usual and cast a cursory glanced behind him to clarify ‘Lou’ was still pursuing him. He began to march to the bank of elevators, his black robes billowing behind him.
“I’m glad ye could make it in today, lass.” Eddie muttered, as they entered an elevator and he pushed the button for level two. Usually the auror took the stairs, but today the couple could indulge.

Lou heard every fifth word.

Which, unlucky for Edward Pratt, happened to be lass.

Something fierce began to twist in her stomach, snaking up her throat, taking hold of her vocal cords, her tongue, pinching the insides of her cheeks. She wrinkled her nose, her mouth posing a scowl where a usually attractive smile could be found.

Folding her arms as she walked after him, Emmy fell out of step. Her legs, always a bit longer for her height, seemed like lead.

“Please don’t call me lass, sir.”

She reluctantly followed him into the elevator, her silent want for justice overpowering the sudden stroke of annoyance that had hit her. She felt too small and too big; as if the world saw her as a needy, pestering five-year-old, and as if her heavy head, filled with pride, might pop.

“You’d think you were a troll, too, if it was your own dad,” she murmured.

Really, how hard could it be to catch a stubborn seventeen-year-old? Lou knew all about the make of youthful lions. She was one of them, after all.

Glad she could make it... right. Emmy rolled her eyes, and kept her arms folded.

The elevator began to move, carrying them away with the smoothest of magic.

When they arrived a moment later, and stepped into the wide corridor, Emmy shuffled nearer the wall. It was just like she remembered it, and nothing like she remembered it. Finally, she turned to Auror Pratt.

“He was in all my classes,” she said softly. “I sat near him everyday. We shared a breakfast table.” She began laugh, lightly and bitterly, and looked away again, staring at the wall and ground, and past both at the same time. Focusing too hard and not at all. “I had dinner across the table from my father’s killer his last night alive. Don’t you understand that?” Her eyes tore away from their invisible focus, and she appraised the man’s face again, trying to judge his character in one strong stare.

Once freed from the elevator and that uncomfortable silence, Eddie stepped out and led the way down a long, dark corridor towards the auror headquarters. This time ‘Lou’ walked alongside him. So he wasn’t supposed to call her lass? He called most females younger than him, lass. It wasn’t supposed to be condescending, more evidence that he cared! The childish, unprofessional side of Eddie wanted to say it to this young girl as much as possible but fortunately for him, his professional side took over.

“He was in all my classes,

For a moment Eddie had to think who. Kyle Gibson, the boy he had new evidence didn’t actually do it. He sighed and looked down at the girl. She thought so badly of her classmate, that he was a heartless murderer. If only she knew the truth he was a scared young lad that was very good at hiding...or dead. He didn’t like that second prospect. They needed to find him soon. He could help with the investigation and help clear his name in public. Although things would never be truly okay. This young lass had seen her classmate kill her Dad after all.

Eddie nodded slowly as they reached the security at the entrance of the auror office. “I do, Lou.” He stopped a short distance from the desk and hitwizards to turn around to the young Gryffindor. “I’m going to find your Dad’s killer.” He said seriously, looking down at her. Before glancing at the security desk. “Come through here, we can talk the case properly then.” Well he could tell her as much as possible. Not all details. There was a reason one had to have clearance.

The security process only took a few minutes, questions and a physical check before Eddie was leading Emily into a smallish room with a couple of sofas. An informal interview room. Designed to put people at ease and much more private that each auror’s cubicle. “Please, sit.” The auror motioned to one of the sofas. “Something to drink?” He could make this as comfortable for her, he guessed.

“Do you?” She asked stubbornly, though she’d been the one to invite sympathy, to encourage a yes, I understand what it’s like to watch my dad die. Something bitter boiled inside her, and the headstrong Gryffindor crossed her arms, pursing her lips in the direction of the handsome auror, who was undoubtedly trying his best. And whose best, in Lou’s bitter estimation, was not good enough.

“Did you watch your dad die, then? Did you watch someone take him out?” She lifted her wand, miming a knife across the throat, like a pantomime pirate. Surely he’d get the picture.

But then his words registered, and the girl’s face slacked into a frown. She knitted her brows confusedly, her arms dropping to her sides. Following him through security, she sat down stiffly, having no fathomable excuse to refuse. Her eyes caught the walls, disappointed that there were no personal belongings, trophies, photos. Clearly he was smarter than take her into his office.

“You mean Gibson,” she corrected at length. He’d said killer out there. Was he afraid of the name? Lou wasn’t. She’d said it a million times over in her head; she’d wished him death. “Kyle Gibson. That’s who you’re going to find.” And then a breathy laugh escaped her nose, as if she didn’t really believe he would do it.

“I’ll have a butterbeer,” she said, realizing that she was, to her own dismay, genuinely thirsty. “Please,” she added in a grumble, crossing her arms again and avoiding his eyes. Maybe she could weasel her way into her sister’s workspace once she’d finished chastising the full-grown man who was trying his best to be civil to the schoolgirl who harassed him on a regular basis.

Had Ed seen his father killed? No. His father was alive and well living not too far away from Ed himself. But was it really appropriate for Ed to explain how he’d watched his older brother being tortured to murderous madness by a mentally sick and unstable death eater and was now stuck on the loony ward in St Mungo’s? Perhaps not. Ed didn’t indulge in personal facts like that. Hell, he didn’t even tend to discuss his own family with his co-workers. Private life and work life were to be kept separate at all times.
Due to this, Ed decided to suffice with a simple “No.”

The auror also decided to ignore Lou’s comments about how he should be going for Gibson. He simply moved over to the coffee machine and started to pour himself a mug full. It was a horrible situation this young girl was now in. She’d been left without a father thanks to some horrible attack and whoever did this still hadn’t been caught. Ed would have been damn well angry with the guy organising the case if the same had happened to anyone in his family. In fact, he’d have been sending the man more than just howlers. Perhaps he should be thankful that was all Lou had done so far.

“A butterbeer. Good choice.” Ed collected one from the mini fridge before making his way back to the sofas. He sat opposite Lou and handed her the small bottle before sipping from his well needed steaming hot coffee.

After a few large gulps of the coffee, Ed decided to break the silence. His eyes remaining on Lou, the mug was placed down and he leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. “Was there anything specific you wanted to ask first, Lou?”

The answer was not satisfying, but Lou found herself unable to fume up at his blunt honesty. One syllable. Two letters. And then they were moving on, sitting on sofas and sipping beverages as if this were a job interview, or a therapy appointment. As if Auror Pratt was there to console the girl who had lost her father instead of finding her father’s killer.

She accepted the drink, opened it, and set it down on the table in front of her. She watched him drink from the coffee mug, studied him for signs of weakness, of being too comfortable in his skin, of being more concerned with coffee than with a dead man’s prematurely robbed soul.

Over-thinking and under analyzing, Lou could not bring herself to admit that an auror’s job was hard, that her father himself was proof enough of that fact.

“What is this, an interview?” She asked, almost snorting. She eyed him for a moment, and then looked toward the bottle on the table, toward the condensation gathering on the glass. She dragged her finger through it and shrugged. A stubborn child teetering on the edge of adulthood, her voice had the tone of a self-entitled professional superior. She was mad. Madder than mad. And now was a time to let it out.

“Where’s Gibson?” She asked, steering the conversation back into the direction they’d started, that bumpy road to her missing classmate. She felt at liberty now to let out the anger she couldn’t burden her friends or professors with; in school, it came out in the form of humorous trouble-making, class-skipping, joking around. With Fauna, she spoke fondly of her dad, bringing up memories with the vagueness of a yellowed photo album, and letting them float away again. With George, she was entitled to a certain amount of Family Fun-Making, and took full advantage. And with boys she liked, she avoided the topic all together, instead focusing her efforts on impressing them. “Didn’t he have the Trace when he disappeared?”

Ed’s lips tightened. This was going to be as fun as waxing. According to Quincy that was like torture the first few times. Ed definitely didn’t envy his wife. Or this young lass in front of him. Yes, this was an interview. But not the kind the young girl was thinking of. He wanted to know facts about both Gibson and at her father, inform her that howlers were unnecessary and that he was in fact doing his job the very best he could in order to find her father’s killer.

First, he needed to set her at ease. People didn’t tend to talk when they were uptight and angry. She would just be difficult and unhelpful. A typical teenaged girl apparently. Maybe he should have briefed a female auror and let her deal with the girl? Malone was a female…wasn’t she?

A sigh escaped Ed’s lips as his bright eyes refused to leave Emily’s. He watched her vigilantly, studying her somewhat before speaking carefully. “We’ve got our best tracking him.” Waiting for the young lad to make a mistake. That was all it was going to take. But Ed wasn’t part of the task force searching for the boy. He just had the job of securing evidence, motives and not much could be done to close this case without the boy.

Pratt sat up straight and procured a small notepad and quill from the pocket of his robes. He flipped it open, emerald eyes never once leaving the young lass’s face. “Gibson’s location will be established. It just takes time when someone doesn’t want to be found.” The auror leaned forward, picked up the cup and took a sip of coffee.

“Yer father was a well established member of the wizemgambot, Miss Carter. He sent a lot of people to Azkaban for a long time. I’m sure he had many enemies. People that weren't happy with his verdict.” Ed cautiously placed the mug back on the table between them. “Any he used to talk about at home?”

“Who’s on your best team?” Emmy’s brow slinked upward as the words left her lips, not the least bit deterred by the auror’s sigh. “Maybe I should have a word with them...” Or more than a word. Or not a single word. Wands would be more efficient at this point.

“Someone who doesn’t want to be found. You’re joking, right? He’s my age. He might be a Gryffindor, but he’s not a bloody overlord. I thought that was your job, finding people who don’t want to be found. Are you telling me Kyle Gibson is harder to find than any of the scum who have served twenty in Azkaban?” Good to know. Lou had been young when her father had traded in his badge for Wizengamot robes, but she’d still known a great auror. Surely somewhere under the pretty face, there was one in this Pratt wizard. He just wasn’t showing it to the girl, and she was in no position to search too hard for his better qualities.

Folding her arms and staring at the butterbeer, it was Lou’s turn to sigh. She shrugged like a child tired from a day in the sun, one who wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed, but would be damned before admitting such defeat. “I guess...” It was a start. “You know, you could ask Molly. She’d be more help!” She’d always listened. Of course, she hadn’t had Lou’s morbidly curious streak, so perhaps the youngest Carter could be of more help than imagined. “He used to talk about the ones who were so bad, they weren’t even Death Eaters. They didn’t care to be loyal to anyone but themselves... do you have some kind of prisoner manifest?” Ha. As if that would help.

“I don’t think that’s wise, Miss.” Edward’s eyebrows quirked up as his brightly coloured green eyes watched the girl. “I doubt these colleagues would be so nice about bein’ harassed by a young girl such as yourself.” He lifted the mug to his lips, taking a sip of coffee before returning it to its placemat on the table. “Not many aurors appreciate howlers being sent to the office.”

The next comment Edward decided not to respond to. He was no in charge of finding Gibson. He was in charge of finding out if it was Gibson who’d done this and why. How was he supposed to do his job when those on the case couldn’t even find a seventeen year old, obviously scared and definitely likely to make a mistake boy? He couldn’t and that meant he had to deal with young, upset and angry girls like Emily Carter. He definitely should have asked a female colleague to sit in with him on this one.

“You’re here, Miss Carter. You obviously know more than yer lettin’ on or ye wouldn’t have bin’ sendin’ me all those messages over the last couple o’months.” Edward said softly, his elbows once more resting on his knees as he leaned forwards, bright eyes studying the young specimen before him.

“I do, yes.” But that didn’t mean he was about to show this manifest to a civilian. The auror office didn’t work in such ways. Ed sat up straight and dug his hand into the pocket of his robes, producing a small notepad and a self-inking quill. “Do you remember any of the names? Anyone he may have mentioned recently coming out of prison? Spoken about any cases?”

Lou doubted highly that anyone would dare mistreat her in a place like this. Too many bureaucrats, too much paper pushing to bother being mean to a minor. Who was skipping school. And in the company of an auror who not only seemed not to mind, but who had server her refreshments, too. Then it again, it wasn’t as if poor Pratt had a choice. She’d been persistent, and one could only take so many howlers before agreeing to meet in person, expected or not.

“I bet there’s a lot of things you don’t think are wise,” she murmured simply, more to herself than to him.

Exasperated, she ignored the consoling butterbeer and shook her head. “If I knew who did it, or had even a clue, don’t you think I would have told you? Obviously it’s someone who isn’t connected to Gibson... or it’s a one-off kind of revenge... because he didn’t run with criminals in school, I can tell you that much.” Again, she was sure the worst ones had worked only for themselves. Voldemort had been her father’s worst fear when it came to his family, but the warlord had not always been the most personally vindictive. Too many enemies, too many followers to deploy and do his dirty work for him.

“I was a kid,” she added. “I was practically a baby when my dad quit Law Enforcement and joined the council.” Well, not exactly a baby, but still young. “Like I said, he talked about people, but he was also very protective of us-- if anyone knows anything, it’s my mum or my oldest sister, and I’m sure you’ve interviewed both of them.” But Mrs. Carter had taken her husband’s death especially hard, and was not exactly in the mindset to be interrogated, however kindly.

“What about that woman who took over the ceremony?” She added venomously, knowing they probably had a quarter of the force on her tail. “I bet she had something to do with it.” Well, it wasn’t the most astute observation, but Lou was impatient and angry. “Or any other crazy like that-- someone who was sent to prison before ten years ago, who’s out now? I doubt it’s a Death Eater. They’ve all castrated themselves by now.”

She sighed, uncrossing her arms and wringing her hands in her lap. "Can I look at the lists?"