There were certain phrases that most Aurors never wanted to hear.  'Sit down' usually predicated a conversation that, if said individual had been allowed to remain standing, would have resulted in him or her stomping out in frustration.  'Close the door' rarely resulted in anything besides a tripled workload.  'The Minister would like,' 'Magical Accidents and Catastrophes requested,' and 'You'll be working with Bailey on this one' were all sure indicators of difficulties to come.

 'You're being reassigned' had become a similar portend of doom for most of the red-robed witches and wizards on Level Two.  No one liked to be taken off a case, or even worse, being given a new one halfway through.  Jumping into the middle of another Auror's investigation either meant wrestling with half completed paperwork or, even worse, filling out a form for cause of death and struggling to translate the chicken scratches that made up the case file with no one to act as a reference.

For Charlene Malone, though, reassignment was like a shining beacon from above.  It meant that she was valued, that she was respected, and that no matter what mess she might have gotten into the weekend previous, she was trusted to dive into a stalling investigation and help turn it around.

She had clearly arrived early at the Ministry that morning.  Not even the prospect of a once-more increased workload dampened Charlene's enthusiasm; the thrill of recognition from the ranking Auror was more than enough to override any burnout.  When Eddie arrived, she barely gave him a moment to get settled at his desk before marching over to greet him.

"Pratt," she said, flashing him a too-pointed, too-sincere smile.  "I hope you've had a pleasant morning.  I need to see your case file on the Remembrance Day murders," she said, leaping straight to the point like a vampire making a swoop at an exposed throat.  "You've been keeping all of the paperwork up to date, haven't you?"

Charlene Malone? Edward had been joined on a case by Charlene Malone? The auror’s stomach sank as he read the note that had been placed on his desk that morning. Raynor had threatened to bring someone in on the case with him due to his work overload a few months back but Eddie had thought his reaction had told her enough. He didn’t need some competitive, easily influenced and highly irritating woman working with him. Malone was worse than an auror-in-training and Eddie wasn’t a babysitter.

“Bloody brilliant.” The man cursed barely audibly as he took off his auror’s robes and threw them over the back of the leather chair in his tiny cubicle. The poor auror didn’t deserve this. He worked hard, stayed late at night if needed to, he was a damn good auror and he got put with this...imitation auror? Someone that had to play by the rules and attempt to force everyone else to do so held no place in Ed’s respect. He got the job done and didn’t need rules thank you very much.

"Pratt,"

Talk of the devil. Still stood behind his chair for the moment, the auror turned to face Malone. She looked ridiculously happy. Like some overly eager Red Cap. Ed tried to offer her a smile back and he succeeded in producing a somewhat strained grimace. He had to be professional but had always dreaded the time he got put with this infuriating woman. He momentarily considered running away and hiding.

Merlin’s overgrown beard this female didn’t hang around to catch bait did she? He could just imagine her on the prowl for a man, spotting her ‘future husband’ and immediately demanding his date of birth, full name and at least three character references.

“Hate to break it to ye, Malone.” Eddie began as he sat himself down in his chair and span it around to come face to face with piles of paperwork covering the large desk. “There’s more to life than paperwork.” However much some evil power from above tried to prove otherwise, as evidence of the parchment scattered across the unfortunate man’s desk.

Eddie leaned across the desk and swiped a bulging file from the top of the biggest pile, spinning around on the chair and holding it out for his colleague. Once she’d taken the file, Eddie pushed himself back up from the chair. “Why don’t you indulge in your paperwork fantasies while I source out me mornin’ coffee?”

As if by magic, an auror-in-training arrived at the entrance of his cubicle with a fresh, perfectly brewed mug of coffee. He grinned and took it from the lad. “Cheers.” He loved the aurors-in-training, the wonderful coffee making monkeys working hard to end up as those receiving the coffee. Eddie turned back to face Malone as he took a sip and smirked. “He’s getting better.”

Charlene regarded the other Auror's desk with a critical eye, her gaze sweeping across the mounds of unkempt papers.  "Yes, like keeping track of matters well enough that we can locate suspected teenaged murderers in a timely fashion," she agreed, her smile a little too bright for the disapproving note in her voice.  "How's that been working, then?"

She took the proffered file without a word, biting back a comment about how at least Pratt had the good sense to keep it on top of his unofficial paperwork mountain.  It was common knowledge that Edward Pratt had too much on his metaphorical plate.  There was no one in the Auror Office who hadn't been overworked recently; even the Aurors-In-Training were kept jumping to maintain the required caffeine allotment that kept their superiors awake and functioning.  But the Remembrance Day investigation had been ongoing for months with little reported headway.  Charlene would have hoped that the least Pratt could do was make sure that everything was kept neatly in order.

Ignoring the cheek about paperwork, she began to flip through the pages.  Most of the facts surrounding the events of the second of May were common knowledge, but if she hadn't already known the basics, making sense of the scattered notes would have proven nearly impossible.  Not for the first time, Charlene found herself resignedly wishing that penmanship was a required course for Aurors-in-Training.

Pratt was apparently more interested in acquiring his morning coffee than he was in filling her in on the case.  Charlene didn't bother to look up as he took the cup from the trainee and addressed her again.

"I wouldn't know," she replied, her forehead creasing as she continued to skim over the papers.  "I swore it off a week ago.  Caffeine is supposed to cause insomnia and muscle twitching if you drink too much of it, so I gave it up cold."  Not that Charlene would willingly admit to battling either symptom, let alone the whole host of others that she had read were possibilities, but giving up coffee seemed a small price to pay if it meant battling the growing stress on Level Two.

Giving a sigh of finality, she shifted her attention from the disaster of a file to her coworker.  "This is going to take at least a morning to sort through," she informed him grimly.  "And I suppose it's too much to hope you have a concise summary of the investigation buried somewhere in here.  Why don't you fill me in on where you're at, and then I'll see if I can't make sense of this mess so that we can start moving forwards?"

“Caffeine is the main element that keeps this office going.” Giving up caffeine in the auror office was about as idiotic as consciously placing your head into the foreboding mouth of a grumpy and hungry dragon.  Or mentioning to a pregnant witch that they looked a little rounder. Eddie knew that well enough by now. He shuddered at the thought before talking a large gulp of the steaming liquid sent down to him from auror heaven. He savoured the delicious taste, his second coffee of the morning and now his brain would hopefully awaken itself.

Covering a yawn with his spare hand, Eddie reacquainted his backside with the chair and placed the coffee in its allocated spot on the desk. He would see the rest of that off very soon. But there was the bugging matter of an overzealous female auror to attend to. Women, so high maintenance. Especially when he’d had barely any sleep. Eddie wasn’t the pregnant one in his family; therefore he was the oh-so-lucky one who should see to their toddler when the little boy was having a bad night.

“There are a lot of notes there.” Eddie mumbled in response to her comment about it taking forever. Especially with a few of his recent discoveries. Pratt was convinced the Gibson boy was innocent but before he put such ideas to his superior, he had to be able to provide a great deal of evidence and a possible suspect instead of the teenaged scapegoat the ministry was presently after. Now he would be forced to explain all of this to the woman invading his cubicle.

The auror was somewhat irritated when Malone put him down, presuming he was unable to provide her with a summary. He waved his hand, “There’s one in there somewhere.” He muttered, his thick northern accent more pronounced as distracted; he pulled a muggle book out from the large pile.

“Have ye heard of DNA? It’s a muggle’s discovery but it’s really fascinatin’.” Eddie opened the book to a page where a form stuck out, his messy writing covering it. He continued, barely pausing for Malone to respond. “Deoxyribonucleic acid.” Ed struggled greatly getting his tongue around the words, staring down at the book. Maybe he needed some glasses now...

“ It’s some chemical that everyone has, even us. ‘cept it’s different in each individual.” The auror passed the book up to his colleague, having left it on a page explaining what this new idea was.
“So anyway, I were chattin’ to a mate of mine – healer – and he found out for me how to investigate it, like find out what goes into it and if it changes after certain spells.” Eddie paused, watching Malone to see she was keeping up.

"A chemical," Charlene repeated, looking skeptical.  She left it at that - wrapping her tongue around the monster of a linguistic challenge that Edward had just struggled with was not going to happen. 

Though she'd taken Muggle Studies for a few years at Hogwarts, she'd dropped the course after her fifth year in order to concentrate on more necessary subjects.  From what she could remember, chemicals were the Muggle equivalent of potions ingredients, mixed together to make things explode and occasionally used to clean dirty surfaces.

"So everyone has the same chemical, except it's different in each of us," she repeated, giving the other Auror a dry look as she took the book in hand.  "A little contradictory, isn't that?  How can it be the same if it's different?"

She wasn't entirely sure where Pratt was going with his line of reasoning, but she obediently opened the book and began skimming the indicated page.  The idea that there was a healer who was fooling around with Muggle techniques didn't come as a surprise; there was always someone at St. Mungo's who thought that 'cutting edge' automatically meant 'Muggle.'  At first, too many of the words on the page seemed nonsensical, but as she read, she realized that she could fit what she did understand around the gaps in the terminology.

"So this chemical is...like some sort of magical footprint, but Muggle," she said slowly, arching an eyebrow as she glanced up at Eddie.  "How do spells affect it?"  The question of how exactly this tied in to the stalling investigation remained unspoken.

“Summit’ about structure.” Pratt responded offhandedly to Malone’s comment about contradictions. “I’ve only done some preliminary research so far. It’s quite an in-depth topic.” Edward had always been interested in potions and stuff and this was similar, but muggle stuff. This stuff about individual prints was very confusing, but he was slowly getting his head around it. And now someone else was being brought in on it. Eddie wasn’t best pleased with Raynor right now.  Pratt and Malone definitely weren’t a good mix. But at least he was still primary on the case. He couldn’t have Malone in charge.

She was slowly catching on. Eddie picked up his coffee and took a long gulp. “Pretty much. It’s what makes you. What makes ye look how ye do and what makes ye a witch. It defines the physical.” Eddie was getting into it now, coffee in hand as he twisted the chair back around to look up at Malone. He wasn’t about to offer her a seat. He was being nice enough about this situation as it was. Very professional.

“It’s different for us though, evidently. A different structure to muggles’. Apparently it’s different for animals and other creatures as well but that doesn’t matter.”

It was a moment later when Malone asked the important question and Eddie couldn’t help but grin at her, despite his dislike for the woman. “Good question. It changes. Only with specific spells used to change looks, appearance. The structure becomes flexible, wobbly kind of.” Eddie sat back in his chair, looking up at his colleague. “Especially with certain potions...”

Charlene was not at all surprised to hear that Pratt had only done preliminary research into his new Muggle matching chemical theory.  In her opinion, that spoke to the reason of why Raynor had brought her on to the case at all.  Charlene was extremely capable of getting results on cases, mostly because unlike Eddie, her penmanship was legible and no one ever ran the risk of drowning in her inbox.

But somehow she couldn't bring herself to completely dismiss his theories.  Well, not the theory that some Muggle chemical made her a witch, of course - that was obviously purely nonsense, and it was easy to dismiss it out of hand.  And all this talk of 'defining the physical' sounded like something that a Hogwarts professor would pull out of his arse while philosophizing before a group of bright-eyed and bushy seventh years.  But matching something to identify someone...they used magical traces to identify the residue of spells from time to time.  Maybe this was a way to examine the residue of a person.

"So if someone drank a potion, it would affect the chemical," she said slowly.  That made sense, whether she thought of it in wizarding or Muggle terms.  Potions had ingredients; mix in a new ingredient, and something could easily become unstable. 

Then it clicked.

She looked down at Eddie, something akin to surprise showing in her eyes.  "You think there was a Polyjuice potion," she said, her eyebrows raising.  "That someone disguised himself as Gibson, is that it?  And you think this Muggle chemical will give you the evidence."

Edward half debated internally whether to congratulate her for finally managing to wrap her little female brain around this concept. Ultimately, he decided he rather liked both his head and his manhood and he would rather not fight to protect them from a angry, violent woman. Eddie had a family to protect after all.

Instead, Pratt opted for his usual cheeky grin and nodded.
“Exactly. Hairs left over on the site as well as spell residue and skin particles can all help me...us in tracking whoever is responsible.” The auror nearly made the mistake of presuming he was working alone on this case still. Sure, he’d pulled a few trainees in occasionally to give them some experience interviewing but that had been about it. He definitely hoped this would be the only thing Malone would be partnering him on otherwise Eddie would probably want to curse himself. Not that he wouldn’t have already been cursed by Raynor. That old witch had a terrible sense of humour.

Spinning in the leather chair back to face his desk, Eddie opened another file. “Now, when I say preliminary research, I mean all of it. I just believe I need to redo a few parts, make sure this is all correct before going steamin’ into Raynor’s office with what she thinks to be a mouthful of dragon dung.”

Pratt began to take separate papers from the file and look over them. He squinted slightly. Quince had told him to get his eyes checked but he quite bluntly refused. For now he would simply squint. “Ye might wanna’ have a look over these later, but I’ll put it plainly for ye.” Eddie proceeded bluntly, still evidently not overjoyed at the prospect of being joined on the case. Sure, Raynor thought he was making no progress, he hadn’t filled her in recently. But did she distrust his judgement that much!?

“So I’ve got the footprint (as such) from everyone on the stage with one unidentified – Gibson. Since he’s done a runner. This footprint, as I’ve compared it to others I’ve done tests on, has been edited with polyjuice potion. The structure isn’t clear, it’s messed up, temporary.” He wasn’t about to go on explaining why it was still temporary right now. He was waiting for his colleague to reply with a howl of laughter or tell him he was mad.

The singular pronoun didn't escape Charlene's notice.  As well as being the office flirt and having the worst handwriting on Level Two, Pratt had quite the reputation for living up to his singularly descriptive surname.  Any fleeting hopes that she may have had that he wouldn't fight the partnership for all that he was worth vanished.  Obviously, the other Auror would rather churn along in mediocrity than actually solve the case with her help.

She gave her new partner's back a dry look as he spun around to face his desk again.  "You might want to redo more than a few parts," she remarked, doing her best not to allow a hint of the exasperation she felt to creep into her voice.  "I know they say that penmanship doesn't count once you've left Hogwarts, but I think Raynor might take legible reports a bit more seriously than those that require a cypher just to read."  She'd chew the end off her quill before she offered to rewrite it for him.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes as he fumbled through the papers on the desk was a test of character.  Charlene wasn't quite sure whether to take his Muggle potion theory seriously. Pratt was notorious as a practical joker after all.  If it hadn't been for the fact that she assumed she'd gotten word of the partnership before he had, she would have suspected that this was something he'd concocted to make her look ridiculous in front of Tamis Raynor.  As it was, she was determined to spend whatever time was necessary in the Library to verify the truth of his theory before officially voicing an opinion.

"So this...footprint," she said, eyeing the papers.  None of the marks looked anything like an imprint that could have been left by a foot, but even if Pratt was trying to kid her, she might as well play it out.  "You think it shows that someone on the stage was under the influence of Polyjuice potion.  Disguised as Gibson."

She frowned, pursing her lips, and then gave Eddie a cautious look.  "If we're assuming that this theory is valid and not ridiculous, where does that leave us?" she asked, nodding to the papers.  "No one knew Kingstreet would take the stage, did they?  If someone went through all the trouble of using Polyjuice potion to enchant himself to look like a Hogwarts student, why did he assault her?  Was it just a crime of opportunity?"

“Fair enough, woman, you make it legible.” Pratt bluntly responded to the irritating female, now shoving the papers in her general direction. If she wanted something neat and dandy to present to the boss, she could sort it out herself. Ed got the job done; he didn’t need to put lace and frills all over his reports. His writing was legible; people were just picky or blind. Or both. “Some of us have more to do with our time than perfect our calligraphic skills. We aren’t paid to make things look pretty, love.”

Malone was going over what Ed had already stated, or at least inclined as to. He smirked, his back luckily to her. “Well caught on.” He patronised before spinning back to face her, his expression once more plain. Inside he wanted to punch something. This new partnership was a very bad idea. Ed would most definitely go crazy stuck with this protocol hugging gypsy.

“Ye’ve got to stop believing that because we don’t know something, no one else does. Our job’s to find out who knew Kingstreet was going to interrupt the proceedings. Or who, apart from Kingstreet, held a grudge against Timmins.” Ed hated going over this bit. He’d been their colleague. Unfortunately, many people held grudges against them all. But who would kill an auror in plain sight? “And the second victim.”

Pausing in speech, Ed started to drink from his coffee mug, trying to soak up all the caffeine. At the moment he felt like he was working himself into an early grave. All that work and lack of sleep. The poor guy desperately needed a holiday. Not that they could afford one. Another kid was on its way and Quincy would soon be breaking from work...again.

“It’s doubtful it was a crime of opportunity anyway. Polyjuice potion takes about a month to brew and ye don’t get many people storing it in their cupboards on the offchance the person ye hate the most decides she fancies stormin’ the most public stage of the year.”

Charlene's eyebrows shot up at the new unofficial titles.  Pressing her mouth into a firm line, she took the papers, gathered them into a neat pile, and then placed them pointedly back on Eddie's desk. 

"No, but we're paid to keep records that will hold up in court," she replied nicely.  "And they're your notes.  This isn't study time at Hogwarts; I can't just recopy them like nuances don't matter.  Do you really want to explain to Raynor why the Wizengamot threw our investigation out because I missed something when I was trying to translate your handwriting?"

She frowned as Pratt began to lay out the reasoning that resulted from the new turn in the case.  It was hard not to stare longingly at his cup of coffee; Charlene resolutely forced her gaze away.

"So it may not have had anything to do with Kingstreet at all," she remarked.  It was possible, and as she weighed the logic in her head, she had to admit that it could make sense.  "Maybe the attacker didn't even know that Kingstreet was going to be speaking.  She or he could have been after Carter or Timmons.  Or someone else on the stage," she added thoughtfully. 

Or the attacker could have just been out to cause chaos - a Hogwarts student attacking a Remembering Day ceremony would certainly make an impression on the crowd.

Now that she thought about it, Charlene had to admit that if Pratt's theory were true, it was oddly brilliant.  The Aurors would waste their time tracking a boy who had nothing to do with the original attack.  Theodora Kingstreet could have been a target, or she could have been a coincidental bystander.  Charlene refused to let the word "innocent" be in any way associated with the former traitor, even if only in her mind.

She considered the implications to the investigation for a moment, and then glanced back at Eddie.  "That's a lot of ground for the investigation to cover.  We'll have to look into possible motives against Carter and Timmons, as well as anyone who could have had contact with Gibson to get his hair for use in the suspected Polyjuice.  It's too bad we haven't run down Kingstreet," she remarked musingly.  "She was right in the middle of it.  She might have seen something too, don't you think?"

“There’s nowt wrong with my handwritin’, Malone.” Came a gruff response from the older auror as he ignored the fact the papers had once more been placed on his desk. She wanted to play it like this did she? Make it personal by insulting his scripture? Well she could go get trampled by a hippogriff before Ed surrendered and rewrote his perfectly legible report. “And you can explain to Raynor why I missed a lead on the case because I was busy giving my reports pretty little frills and bows to add the personal touch to ‘em.”

Raynor knew Ed wasn’t the best with paperwork. But he wasn’t the worst in the office, either. With the exception of this one case where it had stalled momentarily, Ed got the job done and the criminals banged up. So what if his handwriting wasn’t at the standard of the National College of Calligraphy? One didn’t require that trait in order to be a good auror.

“Exactly. But look at the blow causing Carter’s death. That was Kingstreet. There’s summit’ she’s bin’ hidin’.”  Ed added in response to Malone’s self clarification. “I don’t think whoever barged on stage was supposed to get Carter, himself.” Maybe the plan was for Kingstreet to. Or that it was only Timmons who was supposed to be killed? Maybe he was just a casualty of a vengeful act on Kingstreet? Whatever, they needed to find out.

Ed tried not to get too irritated as he was told what they needed to do. He knew that, he’d been checking out motives since the incident had occurred. But this new stuff? He’d been getting started on it. Ed decided to take another gulp of coffee before he trusted himself to speak.

“Get her in ‘ere, then.” Ed didn’t fancy dealing with this witch, however. That is why he’d put this one off. “I’ve checked motives but I need to speak to Raynor. The best person to help us with this is Gibson and he’s not gonna’ turn himself in anytime soon if he thinks we’re after his head.”

"But if we let on that he's no longer a suspect, then whoever really committed the murder gets a lot more paranoid," Charlene said musingly.  After all the time that had passed without a substantial lead, the real culprit - if Pratt was right and it wasn't Kyle Gibson - had to be feeling confident that he or she had gotten away with the crime.  The Aurors could use that to their advantage.

"Not to mention that the Prophet would have a field day if we announced any change in Gibson's status without some real proof," she added dryly, shaking her head.  "It seems like we'll get more out of it if we stay quiet on that count, don't you think?  That way, the public doesn't ask questions and the real culprit gets complacent."

Frowning, she glanced down at the papers absently as she mulled over the possibilities.  From what she'd known of the case before, it had sounded relatively straightforward, even if overly tragic.  These possible twists and turns made the entire business much more complicated.  Charlene could understand why their supervisor had wanted her to get involved.  With Pratt's shoddily nonchalant attitude toward paperwork, building a complicated case could have been a disaster if he'd been left on his own.  It was up to Charlene to make certain that the pieces were arranged properly.

"Well, how would you like to divide things up?" she asked.  "Harcroft's the one handling the search for Kingstreet, isn't he?  One of us should probably coordinate with him.  I'd recommend that you and I sit down and divide up subjects of interest that we want to conduct another interview with.  Oh," she added, almost as an afterthought.  "Have you already gotten together the paperwork so that we can include Muggle evidence in the homicide case, or do you want to ask one of the trainees to fetch it for you so that you can start filling it out?"

“And we don’t get Gibson to come to us.” Ed butted in quickly as Malone began to reel of reasons why they shouldn’t advertise Gibson’s presumed innocence.

Ed let out a long, irritated breath as he glowered up at Malone. “There is real proof. This evidence, this magical footprint thing proves that it wasn’t Gibson himself to storm onto that stage and commit murder.” He rolled his eyes and sighed. “I never said go to the prophet with this. We need this whole case on the quiet at the moment so the culprit thinks it’s been forgotten, brushed off our books as another of those tragic but unsolvable cases. That’s when he’s gonna’ stick his foot in the crap.”

“There’s got to be another way we can get a message to him...” Ed muttered to himself just as Malone started instructing him what should now happen on this case. His eyebrows rose as he watched her mentioning Harcroft and his search for Kingstreet. That was one auror Ed would have liked to be partnered with less that Malone. At least this woman didn’t hold herself as superior as the senior auror, believing himself to be always right.

“The paperwork’s already done, Malone.” Pratt finally responded, keeping his expression neutral once more. “Sorry to disappoint ye but I do follow protocol. I just don’t cosy up to it in bed at night. Like some.”

As if to prove a point, Ed produced another sheet of paper and flashed it in her face before returning it to a pile. He picked up a quill and pulled some blank parchment over. “Harcroft, ye can take him.” Best get the worst out of the way. “Give him a kick up the backside to get her in here. I’ve a few contacts in St Mungos that’ll be able to further look into the DNA thing, get that little bit extra proof.”

Charlene couldn't stop herself from pulling a face at the instruction to deal with Harcroft, but she quickly recovered, giving Eddie a brief, businesslike nod.  Whatever her personal opinion of her coworkers, she knew it was important to work well with them.  In an ideal world, the employees of Level Two would work like a well-oiled broom, streamlined to aid each other in performing their best as they hunted down lawbreakers and dark wizards alike.

Of course, in an ideal world, she would have also been partnered with someone whose handwriting she could read without a Chickenscratch-to-English dictionary.  But the situation was what it was, and Charlene was determined to make the best of it.

"All right, I'll see if he has time to sit down with me this afternoon," she agreed.  If Harcroft didn't, Charlene was perfectly capable of parking herself outside his cubicle until the senior Auror either exploded at her or agreed to make the time.  "Do you want me to include you in the meeting?  I can just copy you on the notes, but I wouldn't want them to get lost in the shuffle," she added, eyeing the piles of paper on his desk suspiciously.

Whatever the obstacles, she had no doubt that they could solve this case.  Even if she had to drag Pratt kicking into an office and lock him in there with an unsharpened quill, they'd get to the end of it and they'd do it properly.  Level Two owed the families of the victims that much.  Timmons and Carter had been two of their own.

"After you talk to the Mungo's staff, you can recopy your notes and owl them on to me," she concluded, giving Pratt a firm nod.  "And we'll meet tomorrow morning to see where we're both at, shall we?  You might want to try and come in a little earlier though.  That way we can come up with a plan for the day before the office gets too busy."