Friday, November 28, 2008
7:15am

Zora Roh came thundering out of the lift, her black hair wild about her face.  She burst into the main bull pen and triumphantly slammed down an owl cage (with a ruffled owl inside) and a folder of paperwork on top of it.  Hands on hips and breathless, her smile was giant.  She'd just come from the Wizengamot administrative offices.  And before that she'd been sitting on a Diagon Ally rooftop luring owls to her with a bucket of dead mice.

"Owl comes up out of near the Chimaera," she began with gusto, "I lure the bugger in and I haven't seen a cleaner owl in my life.  Someone's actually laundered this guy, I swear to God.  Bells are going off, you can imagine."

Zora had been on Theodora Kingstreet's case since she broke probation and disappeared earlier that summer.  But she'd also been assisting with the very horrible, boring surveillance on the Black Chimera, doing some owl catching.  Owl catching was a crap shoot.  The Aurors couldn't open anything without a warrant - can't even untie the parcel without .  And you could only hold an owl for 12 hours before sending it on or notifying the sender or recipient.  So yea - everyone had to take a turn owl catching every once in awhile.

"How can something so clean come out of a place so dirty?  I bring this little bugger in, match the handwriting to Theodora fecking Kingstreet and got two Elders to sign.  BAM!"

She brought her hand down on top of the paperwork and cage with a ringing smack.  The owl shrieked and dumped some feathers, but Zora was unfluffed.

"All I need now is the autograph from Dear Old Raynor and we crack this this wide open."

The fresh cup of steaming hot tea (the fourth already that morning) had just made it to Tamis Raynor’s lips when one of her Aurors charged into the main hall of Level Two, trumpeted by the distinguishing mane of untamed hair and a shower of owl feathers. The supervisor remain poised that way for a long minute, cup suspended just below her half parted lips as her gray eyes analyzed Zora Roh from over the top of the rim with raised eyebrows.

Any of the group of dark wizard hunters exhibiting a deviation from the blurry-eyed comatose state of Early Morning Syndrome at this hour was cause for concern. Enthusiasm did not usual start until at least eight o’clock, satisfied with having had two good hours of brooding over sleep deprivation slowly cured through vast amounts of caffeine.  Roh was the constant exception.

The explanation came without the need for provocation as Roh broadcasted her monologue for a rather attentive audience. Legal aides had paused with impossibly tall stacks of files levitating impatiently behind and a few Hitwizards had paused in their small talk over the complementary breakfast bar to glance at the Auror. One of which still had a half peeled muffin in his hand. Most, however, resumed their hustle and bustle. After all, it was Roh.

Kingstreet and the Black Chimaera used in the same breath was enough to reanimate the Head Auror.

“Those autographs are in high demand,” Raynor commented as she made her way over, viewing the disgruntled and highly offended owl with curiosity. It shrieked at her in desperation as she peered through the bars at it. It still had a letter tied to its leg with an uncanny precision. The handwriting addressing it was strict, perfectionist, and far too familiar. She would not need to see a comparison to recognize it. Tamis had received a letter written in the exact hand not long ago.

A small bubble of repressed excitement welled up inside the stoic Auror. “From the Black Chimaera?” She reconfirmed, holding out a hand to receive the appropriate document.

Zora felt the rush of reward when her boss got up and came over.  She was reminded that at times similar demands for attention were put down with a terse set of instructions, or a reminder about meetings going on, or about how certain things shouldn't be shouted so that Level 5 could hear.  She stood in a wide stance with arms crossed over her  chest, bright and bold over her quarry. 

Of course, Head Auror Raynor's energy didn't match her own.  It was level and always a little skeptical, as it always seemed to Zora.  Raynor never seemed to get a dander up like Zora did - not even a Kingstreet letter intercepted from..."Hell yes, the Black Chimaera," she said a tad bit testily and dumped the file of warrant requestives into Raynor's waiting hand. 

"We're up on that roof at the back end of Diagon scooping owls, same one we've been using since October.  Not much down at that side of things save the Chimaera, the 'wand repair'..." -she shadow-quoted the storefront cover for an illegal bookies- "... and the boarded up brothel.  It came right up from that end of things.  My partner'll confirm it." 

One always had to confirm things for Raynor, but that was part of the fun.  This time Zora knew she'd covered herself and had only good things to tell the boss.  She'd checked herself.  The lead was solid.  That owl had a holy grail tied to its scaly ankle.

"It'll be the first we've heard from her except the times when she's wanted us to.  First time we've had the jump on her.  I'd have never pegged her as someone who'd touch Knockturn Ally though.  I thought she liked the higher brow run of things," she said and then bit her lip in excitement.

She untucked one folded arm and waved it at Raynor.  "C'mon, boss - you're killing me.  Let's have a Christmas and open her up."

Paul Keith Martins had just been accepted into the ranks of the Auror's and his first day had now come officially he was now a Dark Wizard catcher, one of the elite, but he did not feel like any thing more than a visitor in the Auror's halls after all some of these people had thought against Lord Voldemort when he was 12 and now he was one of them, well on paper at least.

As a muggle born his parents did not really understand what being an Auror meant, they were much more than police men. Your grades had to be all but perfect and the training was rigours and would put the training of any military to shame.

He wore brand new, made to fit, Wizard Robes perfectly black that his mother demanded that she ironed, even though he was 23 she still insisted on treating him like a baby and deep down he liked it but on the surface he kept to the line that he was upset. He had heard the commotion, well maybe not a commotion but at least a conversation, between two woman and decided to investigate the occurrence so instead of going straight ahead he turned right and headed down a corridor, past moving and talking portraits, until he saw the two woman.

He recognised one of them as the head Auror but the other he had never met they way she was speaking to his boss made him think she to was an Auror he judged that she was in her early 30s.

He wondered if he should ask them who they were talking about at first he thought he should hold back and let the more experienced woman deal with the situation but another voice was telling him to assert himself, telling him if he wanted to be an Auror he had to act like one. He stepped forward and spoke to the two woman nodding slightly to acknowledge his boss.

"Umm, hi. My name is Paul Martin. I could not help but over here that you wanted to...open someone up, It sounded like it was important, I would like to help."

“I believe you, Roh,” was the calm reply as the warrant was slapped into Raynor’s waiting hand. She would also make sure the partner submitted that confirmation in writing. With evidence so easily forgeable in the Wizarding World, following protocol to the letter often prevented headaches. “This finding is just coincidently opportune.”

Only yesterday she had called a trio of Aurors into her office to send a man in undercover at the Black Chimaera. With evidence surmounting against the dodgy pub and its owner, managing to prove that Theodora Kingstreet was in residence – and thus being harbored – was almost too good to be true. 

Bending down (not a significant feat given her close proximity to the floor) the Head Auror peered inquisitively at raptor through the bars of its prison as its sentry stood dutifully and victoriously on guard. The pristine bird eerily rotated its head toward her, opened its beak wide and shrieked a disgruntled plea. Animals had never been Raynor’s forte and this one would not be getting any sympathy from her.

That was certainly Kingstreet’s handwriting on the envelope; the Auror did not need an expert to determine that. She had seen the trademark, obsessively immaculate scrawl enough to recognize it immediately. Most recently in a letter written to the Minister of Tamis Raynor’s behalf. That had been an enjoyable phenomenon to explain to Annwyl. The jokes now floating around the Auror Office were worse.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” she quoted expertly to the veteran Auror about the unlikelihood of Kingstreet bunkering down in a place like Knockturn. The thought had crossed her mind as well. “We will get excited after we find out if this letter is useful.” Or at least, Raynor might get a small stroke of adrenalin – the remarkable thing about the Auror line of work was the diversity of individuals it attracted. Her enthusiasm would never be able to match Roh’s, as long as Tamis did not have to peel her from the ceiling and she did not break too many rules, the Head Auror was content.

She had just put quill to parchment when a tall figure loomed over her. Tall. Looming. Male. Had to be one of the Aurors, a job where you must be at least a foot taller than your boss seemed to be a tacit requirement.

“We know who you are Martin,” she replied without looking up as she flourished her signature at the bottom of the warrant. “This is Zora Roh. We keep her away from the trainees. She tends to bite.” It was hard to tell whether or not she was serious.

Finally glancing at the recent graduate from the Auror Academy, Tamis handed the document back to Roh’s no doubt greedily awaiting fingers. “I think the entirety of Level Two knows this is something of interest now,” she replied wryly. “Besides risking some fingers, I believe Roh can manage to retrieve the letter without backup,” and the Head Auror was certainly not going to deny the gleeful woman that privilege. “We will go from there.” That enthusiasm to jump the wand and get to bringing in the bad guys was not uncommon with the rookies.

She waved her hand to give Zora a very pointless ‘go ahead.’ The woman was no doubt already two steps ahead of her.

Zora didn't bite Martin, but she did give him a rough jab in the shoulder.

"Help you will, Pauly, help you will!" she said enthusiasticaly to the tall babyboy of an Auror.  Gosh they came young these days! But since Robards' murder the new Aurors were fewer and fewer as so many didn't pass the extremely brutal security requirements anymore.  Not that they were any worse applicants, but that there was little way to know who was Imperiused to go about killing folk and who wasn't.

Roh endured the calm lecture about procedure from Raynor.  She always did with a glazed over impatience.  Zora'd do her homework, or push it off onto someone else.  She always got it done one way or another.  And Raynor always had to say her piece.  And in the meantime, Zora had reached out for the document a few times without receiving it.

Finally, she got it, checked the signature, and jammed it into the file.

"C'mere you..." she opened the cage door and thrust both hands in.  The owl was not pleased with the Auror after all her rough handling this morning and it screetched and nipped, but the cage was too small for too much blood and gore.

Zora emerged from the cage with a slightly-mussedlittle envelope.  It was perfect.  Surgically sharp creases.  Sharp, sharp corners.  And an exactly centered address in cursive that looked as if it was done by automatic quill or press. 

Gazing at that perfection she looked to Martin and Raynor, savoring the moment for one second more.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say she meant for us to find it.  She's far from sloppy."

Martin looked at the warrant as the head Auror signed it it seemed to be for a woman named Kingstreet. He was sure he knew whom she was the second he saw the name. She was a notoruios Villan and most people believed she had even killed a fellow Auror. He was not sure what to think of the Head Auror he respected her as he did every Auror but there was something different about the Woman and he was not sure what it was, maybe he was intimidated by her?

As she introduced the other female Member Martin turned her attention to her. "Hey Zora, I am going to take that as a joke, Ma'am." He was not sure how to address the Woman so he reverted to what he had saw his brother do when he addressed the female Captain at his graduation.

He rubbed his army slightly as Zora punched him. "Already being harassed on the first day, and I thought you were the Good guys."

"Oh well, I thought maybe my first day would be more exciting that watching Zora get mauled by an angry bird, never liked birds much myself. The whole flapping thing was to much for me." He said as he watched Zora take the letter. She seemed very happy that she had been given permison to open the small envelope.

The bird was making a lot of noise which had begun to get on Paul's nerves. He took out his 10'' wand it was a dark brown, most considered it red. It's core was a single Unicorn Hair, so if he ever got into the dark arts business it would be less than useless.

He pointed it at the squawking bird and spoke. "Silencio." The bird fell silent with out another peep from it's beak. He was capable of wordless magic but as long as he was not in a duel or examination he always used the spell.

"Do you think she is setting a trap?"

"Good guys, bad guys - it's all relative, my friend," Zora joked back darkly and punched Martin again.

"The one thing you've got to know about Theodora Kingstreet," Zora declared, "is that what you see is what you get.  If it is a trap, there's no where else I'd rather be."

She laid out the envelope flat on the table and got out her wand.  Just as she levelled the wand on the envelope it twisted and folded on its own accord to scowl up at the Aurors.

"Ah ah ah! Anyone other than the intended recipient faces execution from the Owl Post Authority, I assure you! Snoops!" it wrinkled and cracked at them, before flattening out on the table again.

Zora squinted her eyes at the envelope's strange behavior.  It wasn't uncommon for letters and things to carry warding enchantments like this - Howlers spoke on their own, didn't they?  But Kingstreet was a bit more talented than the average epistle writer...

She levelled her wand down at the envelope again, which again, sprang to life in exactly the same way and said exactly the same thing before settling down on the table again.

"Ah ah ah! Anyone other than the intended recipient faces execution from the Owl Post Authority, I assure you! Snoops!"

Zora smiled and shook her head.  "Automated."

For a third time, she brandished her wand at the letter but this time spoke a simple opening spell that wouldn't damage the envelope.  The enchanted message attempted to play again, but the envelope popped open at Zora's command.  The older Auror whipped into the envelope and unfurled the letter.

November 28, 2008

Mr. Spade,

It is to your credit that I have not yet found reason to execute you and what's it been - why it's nearly Christmas time!  Perhaps your family, whether they know it or not, will also have cause to celebrate your continued living. 

While your continued employment is a milestone and cause for a note of congratulations, this is not a social letter.  I have an important task for you.

That horrible common witch the Minister of Magic has decided to marry will need to be framed and imprisoned as soon as possible.  I am arranging to have three live runespoor eggs delivered by the end of the week.  Take careful note that the fee promised you is quite a bit more substantial than the cost of fencing these eggs for your own profit.  That, and, should you betray me your family and loved ones will be weeping over a closed-casket funeral.  So I think you'll find that this simple task will be well worth your while! It's a win-win-horriblylose situation, I hope you'll agree.

That horrible common witch is named Moira Randall and she is a Mediwitch at St. Mungo's Hospital.  You should plant the Runespoor eggs in her personal affects there.    I will handle the rest by seeing to it that she's found out, publically dishonored, likely drug through an embarrassing trial and thus continue making strides to destroy Marcus Annwyl.  I'd just die if that man ever smiled again.

How you do it is up to you.  Do not be seen, young man - that's not negotiable.

Warm winter wishes!

"Who the hell is Jack Spade...?"