2 January, 2009
08:32am, Atrium
Richard Burke

He had been in country for nearly a month now and the lay of the land was  turning out to be a much more difficult thing to grasp than he had imagined it to be.  So far gone for so long, and everything had changed but as he entered the bustling menace that was the atrium of the English Ministry of Magic it was quite possibly the only thing which hadn't changed.  Well, except for the security.  It was immediately clear to Burke that one could not simply wander into level two - or any of the other closer, more important areas without making himself able to be remembered.  Time to go to Plan B then!   This plan was simple, not as simple as hand delivering and bolting like a bat from the belfry but close enough.  Get in, find some tired and lacking caffeine nobody to deliver the simple and (contrary to all muggle films involving discreetly delivered packages) non-explosive package and get out.

After sidestepping to the right and scanning the masses of bustling bureaucratic busybody nobodies, brown eyes found their mark.  A tall, lanky young gentleman of approximately nineteen years of age, maybe twenty, six feet in height, brown hair, confidant grin and most certainly not a traveling salesman for some foreign dignitary.  An aurors badge was clipped perfectly to his belt just to the left side of the opening in his winter cloak, his wand not visible but probably just as easily reachable.  Just out of training and already trying to be the next poster boy.  How sickeningly suck-up-ish, yes the message would definitely reach it's destination with this one.  Now all Richard had to do was time to play the part.

"Excuse me, mate, a moment!  Young man!?"  Richard called out as he began crossing the call, maneuvering quickly through the robotic masses of predestined pawns.  "Sorry to trouble you, glimpsed the badge and all and...  well you see, I was supposed to get this to the Auror Office yesterday and got delayed due to meeting after meeting.  International Cooperation Office...you know how they are... My bosses are royally sodden with me and..." He glanced briefly at the watch on his wrist as his face took a panicked expression.   "And I've actually got to be somewhere  four minutes ago.  So could you do me a favor and be sure this gets to the Auror Headquarters for me?  Thanks mate!"

With that rushed from his mouth, Burke was quickly away to vanish in the masses heading toward the lifts leaving the young auror with no time to refute his newly acquired task.  Ignore the fact that he quickly ducked off to the nearby loo at first opportunity.  Alright, so the accent was a bit off and the young man had been given no time to respond, but it was well on its way.  Message delivered.  Career either made or ruined depending on interpretation.  All that was left to do now was wait fifteen minutes and head back out the way he'd came.  Maybe get a warm scone or two, it was a brisk enough morning.

----

08:47am
Level Two
Not Richard Burke.

The lift was slow.  There was no other real excuse to think about using, well that and the usual traffic.  In the eyes of the workplace, tardiness held no excuse period.  But then if that ruddy man hadn't delayed him, he wouldn't be late, plus he was delivering a package overdue, surely that was in his favor as well?  Interesting package it was too, lightweight, simple manila envelope. No postmark but addressed officially to the Head Auror, no name but then interoffice probably rarely needed anything beyond a location – especially for heads of department.  It made sense to him…but he was still pissed!

Expression after expression crossed his face as the lift came to a stop on Level Two.  He practically bounded out of the elevator from his nerves, patience was not really one of his strong suits once his schedule was shot full of holes.  He had it planned to arrive at precisely eight forty-five.  Precisely when his interview was supposed to be!  Bugger it all!

The young man bounded around people, and in a couple cases through people who he'd hopefully be working with for the next many years apologizing all the way.   He skidded to a stop in front of the Head Auror's office, winded but somehow still confident enough to deliver a couple of sharp knocks on the open door.

(Raynor gets first post you trigger happy nips ^.^!)

The grandfather clock nestled in the corner of the office at the rear of the Auror Headquarters ticked yet another increment beyond the large Roman numeral nine. A flash of annoyance stirred Tamis Raynor’s subconscious as turned her eyes back down to the paperwork in front of her, dipping her quill into the inkwell. Late. Two minutes were rather insignificant in the large scheme of the world, but in the micro setting of the Aurors Office, two minutes could mean the difference between life and death.

Not to mention Tamis Raynor was not accustomed to waiting on anyone. They usually arrived well in advance.

The knock on the open threshold came at long last, sharp and confident despite the evident labored breathing rasping into the room. Dipping her quill again, the Head Auror finished her line of writing without looking up to address the much younger man. “Lingering in my doorway is not going to improve your punctuality,” she told him simply, forcefully dotting the sentence before setting the quill down.

Hawkins was one of the newest of the Auror Academy graduates. A promising young man that suffered from the classic rookie eagerness that increased the mortality rates of Aurors within their first two years of full service. It was the reason she was being hard on him now. The reason the veterans gave the green horns a difficult time in general. Aurors developed large enough egos without leaving a margin for encouragement.

The rookie’s face twisted as if he was biting back a curse. Whether it as at her, himself, or at whatever had delayed him long enough that he had sprinted the length of level two she did not know. Decided it was best not to ask. He opened his mouth to speak, but she shook her head, grabbing her empty teacup as she claimed her feet.

“You can explain while I get a refill,” she told him, indicating that he should follow her as she led the way back through the rows of cubicles. Hawkins fingered the envelope in his hands for a moment before following with a defeated sigh.

To his credit, he actually waited until she had her new steaming cup of tea cradled in the palms of her hands and had lifted an eyebrow expectantly at him before blurting out his excuse. He thrust the envelope at her, blurting, “A man. Said this was for you, suppose to have got it yesterday. He was adamant about it.”

A chill crawled down Raynor’s spine as her gray eyes settled intently on the package before shifting up to pin Hawkins. Like many of the Aurors, he was at least a foot taller than her. “That did not seem suspicious to you?” There were many ways of delivering mail at the Ministry. All of which would had made sure the product reached its receiptant on time.

“I tested it, Ma’am,” Hawkins replied dryly. Of course he had.

Putting her tea back down on the table, the Head Auror took the envelope from him. The weight was familiar. Not flat like parchment but had actually three dimensional shape. It almost felt like a – it was.

An Auror badge dropped into her hand as she broke the seal. A real Auror badge. They had a certain feel to them, as if the history and lives of their previous owners somehow became a part of the very gold of its construction. This one was old and felt dull. The way a badge not currently worn by an active Auror always felt. All of the ones not assigned to an Auror were accounted for, how and why would this one have…

The realization hit her. The odd familiarity to this particular badge. The way the serial number engraved along the top of its face stood out in her memory. This badge had been missing for fourteen years ever since – her heart stopped. Her fingers went numb and without quite realizing it, the badge fell from her hands, dropping heavily to the floor as the realization continued to grow.

Uncharacteristically, Tamis Raynor’s visage filled with emotion but it was far too scrambled to pick out any one sentiment. Panic. Anger. Pain. Perhaps a touch of fear. It was however enough for Hawkins to take a nervous step back from her.

“Who gave you this?” She asked quietly.

Hawkins fell silent, mouth working but the words did not come out. He was trying to explain but did not know quite how. He could not recall any intimate details about the fellow’s appearance. Nor did he give a name, now that he thought back on. Just something about the IMC. The thought process was not fast enough for Tamis.

The petite witch grabbed a hold of the much larger man and tried to shake him, as if that would somehow rattle the answer out of him. “Who gave you this!?” She repeated.

The last time she had seen this badge, Tait Aldridge’s murderer had been plucking it from his corpse.



[Open from this point forward]

Work in the Auror office never really allowed for much of a break over the holidays.  Ever since Kyle Gibson's body had been found and the cause of death identified, Charlene felt as if her workload had increased tenfold.  It didn't help that her partner had had to take a few days off to spend with his family, although for once, she didn't begrudge Pratt the slack.  There were some times of year that even Aurors couldn't be expected to remain married to the office. 

Still, it had resulted in plenty on Charlene's shoulders, as well as half-given explanations as to why she wouldn't really be joining her brothers and grandmother for New Year's this year.  With so many recent developments, everything had to be triple-checked and in order before the upcoming press conference.  There was no doubt in any of their minds that the Daily Prophet would rip into Level Two after the revelations, and the best thing they could do was make sure they were secured and ready for the approaching storm.

Time was quickly becoming limited.  Charlene had been in since seven that morning, checking and double-checking Dr. Bombay's findings to make sure that they were in order, and had barely taken time for a coffee break.  Her self-imposed caffeine boycott had not lasted through the holidays, leaving her back to three cups before lunch.  She was in the process of fighting her way through a particularly dense section of the report when a loud voice interrupted her train of thought, made twice as distracting by the point from which it originated.

“Who gave you this!?”

Charlene glanced up, startled, as her eyes flickered to the source of the cry.  It had come from...the Head Auror's Office?  Frowning, she glanced across the other desks, looking for Ackerly or Radley or Pratt.  That did not sound like the well-reasoned, well-controlled Tamis Raynor that she knew so well.

The Auror hesitated, and then carefully rose from her desk.  She gathered the papers that she'd been reading into a stack, shuffled them into the crook of her arm, and then started for her boss's office.  If worse came to worst, they'd make an acceptable excuse for visiting Raynor; at least that way, it wouldn't seem like she was snooping.

The door to the Head Auror's office was open, but Raynor wasn't alone inside it.  She was currently clutching the lapels of Hawkins, one of the eager-eyed young rookies in the department, and shaking him as if his career depended on it.  Charlene's jaw dropped, and she stared at the scene wide-eyed for a moment before recovering herself.

"Madam Raynor?" she asked.  The words came out a little more sharply than she meant them to; she cleared her throat to soften the blow as her gaze shifted to the terrified-looking Hawkins and then back again.  "I'm sorry to interrupt.  Is everything all right?"

“Madam Raynor.”

The word cut sharply, alarmed, through the petite woman’s conscious bringing her back to the cusp of reality. Fifteen years of silence, fifteen years to deal with the possibility that there would never be an answer. Fifteen years to cope and, while she knew some scars could never heal, and some experiences never forgotten, she had built a routine and been able to move on with her life was well as could be expected. After all this time, it simply was not possible.

The badge gleaming faintly on the rug before her feet was taunting her otherwise.

Her gaze focused, taking in the horrified expression of Hawkins peering imploringly up at his savior that had arrived in the doorway. The voice and the question finally registered. Malone. She was panicking, but Tamis Raynor did not panic. Tamis Raynor rarely showed emotion and she could debunk that myth now. The last thing she needed to do now was scare the Aurors. She convinced herself that it was Hawkins that was shaking and not her hands.

Was everything all right?

“No.” It was a simple and frightening reply. But it came out calm, collected. Perhaps too calm, too collected, even for Raynor. The Head Auror released her grip on the younger man’s robes and pigmentation began to flood back into the white of her knuckles. She wanted to run a hand through her hair – she wanted to pull the bloody hair out. But she could not do that either. She spoke slowly, for slowly was best.

“Send word to atrium. Every exit to the Ministry needs to be sealed. No one apparates, no one floos, no one even so much as flushes to the surface until they identify themselves.” Tightening her resolve, she took a careful step back from the rookie Auror, least the urge to strangle him re-overcome her. “Have the Hitwizards search every level – inform Dante Ward to check his own,” even the acting Head of Magical Law Enforcement, arguably the second most powerful politician to the Minister of Magic, could not order such an invasion of the Department of Mysteries. “Look for anyone that does not belong.” And explain what she currently could not.

She shoved one of the newest recruits toward the taller woman standing apprehensively in the doorway. The five foot, maybe one hundred pound soaking wet, woman did not have the physical force to propel him, but he did not need much motivation for an opportunity to get away from his boss. “Take this idiot with you in hopes that he can refresh his memory.”

The hesitation to follow such a… drastic order… might have been a creation of her imagination. But her imagination felt that the hesitation lasted a moment too long. “Go!”

Sam was heading to the coffe machine for a fresh cup when he heard Raynor call for the ministry to be sealed.  He ran to his desk, grabbed his wand and hurried to get t the atrium to get security to seal the Floo. not to mention get an anti-apparition ward up over the atrium, snce the rest of the ministry alreayd had one. " Who'rre we looking for, Raynor?" he called out on his way, not breaking stride. If the ministry was being sealed, you did not ask stupid questions.  It was time for evey Auror to prove themselves worthy of their badge.

If they hadn't been standing in the middle of the Ministry, if all logic and reason didn't point to the fact that it was indeed Tamis Raynor standing in front of her, gripping the front of young Hawkins' robes as if she planned to strangle him with his own uniform, Charlene would have had her wand out and pointed at the woman upon suspicion of polyjuice.  Raynor didn't panic.  She didn't shout.  And she certainly didn't assault her men - not even the irritating ones like Pratt or Radley, although the case of the latter might be up to interpretation if Fox's recent grumblings had any basis in reality.

The calm, short denial - though a bit too short, almost frighteningly calm - might have made her relax, but the words that followed did anything but.  Charlene stared at her boss, dumbfounded, as the petite woman briskly laid out her orders.  Lock down the Ministry.  Let no one leave.  Search every level.  Raynor's deathly expression made it clear that this wasn't a drill.  In all Charlene's years at the Ministry, the only thing that had ever prompted this sort of response was the murder of Gawain Robards in his own office.  What Hawkins could have done, what news he could have brought to trigger such a reaction was beyond her.  It was surreal.

Having Hawkins suddenly launched in her direction was what snapped her back to reality, even more than the Head Auror's brisk final order.  Charlene jumped, catching the younger Auror by the arm as she shot him a murderous look.  Whatever memory needed refreshing, it was going to surface quickly or she'd lock him in a broom closet with Bailey as an interrogator.

Behind her, Sam Harcroft had already launched into a flurry of action and was on his way out the door.  He must be headed for the Hitwizards - no, the Atrium, Charlene thought as she swallowed, drawing her own wand.  She remembered her training.  Locking down the Floo network would be more urgent.

"Yes, is there a description?" she asked sharply, directing the question at both Hawkins and Raynor as she hurried to the nearest desk to grab a piece of paper and a quill.  She began scribbling a note to both Ward and the Head of the Hitwizards; if the Ministry was being locked down, it was essential to get messages on their way quickly before the lifts started filling.  Sorting through 'anyone who did not belong' could take hours - it was the first day back after the holidays, and the Ministry was surely filled with all sorts of unusual visitors who had waited out December before bringing their business to the government.

Somewhere else on Level Two, in the Wizengamot's administrative offices, Knox Greyfriar looked up from the scroll he was reading.  The old bear's eyes looked around under his furrowed brows as his hears worked.  He removed the pair of rectangular spectacles he wore for reading  and listened again.

What was that noise?

He'd never heard its like before and in his dark little office, buried under papers, books and scrolls, the newest Junior Elder of the Wizengamot wasn't entirely sure if he'd even heard anything.

He got up from his desk and opened his door up and looked down the long, narrow, dim hallway that led in one way to still more offices, and in the other, to the main corridor of Level Two.  He saw one red-robed Hitwizard run by.  And he could hear the noise much better now.  It was a faint sort of alarm.  It pealed again and a muffled voice was attempting to make an announcement through it.

And then another Auror's shape passed the entrance to his corridor.  And then about seven more.

At this, Greyfriar folded up the glasses he'd been holding and pocketed them.  He shut his office door firmly, and locked it, and then made his way slowly and curiously out into the brighter, bigger corridor where he'd seen the MLE people running by.  As he emerged from his den, the noises became clearer.

"All Ministry personnel, attention. Do not be alarmed by this alarm.  Follow the instructions from the Aurors and Hitwizards.  This alarm is no cause for alarm.  Do not draw your wands.  Do not attempt to leave the Ministry...."

And so it went on, calmly.

Who were they looking for? What was the description?

She had been asked that fifteen years ago, but the mood had been entirely different. Then she had been a shaken victim, shocked and distraught, and everything seeming to happen in broken unrelated fragments that did not change the fact that Tait Aldridge was dead. The Aurors then had regarded her with tested patience, asking her the same question with growing agitation until a Healer had intervened. Now she was being regarded with that same skepticism, but it was propelled by fear and unknowing rather than disdain.

The answer was still the same as it had been then, but ‘I do not know’ would not suffice in this situation. There was not a Healer to step advocating for mental stability. “Wizard. Male. Average height, brown hair and eyes, Irish, but do not count on the accent,” she offered. Well, she had narrowed out the blonds, redheads, females, and magical creatures. That only left about fifty percent of the population within the Ministry to rule out.

“Hawkins saw him, that is why he is going with you,” she added, her patience tested. If that still was not good enough motivation, she added dully, finally bending down to pick up the fallen badge, “He is a known Auror killer.”

Harcroft was already on the move it seemed, from overhead a woman’s voice best known for pleasantly announcing each floor in the lifts that navigated the Ministry announced the emergency. After a moments pause, the message repeated again. In truth, Raynor highly doubted that the Runespoor leader was still inside the Ministry. The man had probably been long gone by the time Hawkins had reached Level Two, out of breath and puffing. But she could not just do anything.

"All Ministry personnel, attention. Do not be alarmed by this alarm.  Follow the instructions from the Aurors and Hitwizards….”

A known auror killer inside the ministry itself. An Auror fooled enough to act as a messenger for them to deliver what looked to be an Auror's badge to the Head auror. Samue had made the lfts, and used a special key, only usebale by Senipr aurors, or other aurors specfically authorised, to override the order the lift usually went to eahc floor in, and he slammed his hand on the "Atrium" button. ariving there, he spriinted for the security desk.  Slamming his hand down on the desk to wake up the security guard, he gave the order " Seal the Floo. A known Auror killer has been spotted in the ministry building." then he personally cast an anti-apparition spell on the Atrium.

OOC: I hope I haven't overstepped by assuming that a Senior Auror or authorised auror can override the lifts, but it does make some sense. essentially, the key allows the emergency override of the liifts, to allow said Senior Auror, or authorised Aurors, to get somewhere fast. I'd have imagined that Hawkins wouldn't have one, but Malone might.

Charlene didn't pause at the list of adjectives, hurrying to scribble them down.  Male, brown hair, Irish... the description could easily match dozens of people who worked within the Ministry and Rowena only knew how many visitors besides.  They'd have to be counted, identified, questioned...the organization following this could take hours.  But it was not the time to think of the clean up.  That could come after the protocols were put into action.

The alarm had already begun to sound by the time she finished writing.  Harcroft's doing.  Charlene picked up the piece of paper with scribbled instructions and physical description and, holding the spell in her mind, moved as if to tear the parchment in half.  Neither wandless magic nor Transfiguration had ever been her forte, but this was one particular piece of magic that she'd had cause to practice time and time again.  Rather than being torn in two, she was left holding two identical copies of the same note.  Hurriedly, she addressed one to Dante Ward and the other to the Head of the Hitwizards, and then tapped both with her wand, turning them into paper airplanes and sending them flying towards the lift.

First task completed, she finally looked to Hawkins.  The fledgling Auror was standing there looking stunned, as if his life (or very possibly his career in law enforcemnet) were flashing before his eyes.  Charlene tucked away any trace of sympathy that she might have felt for the young man.  There were times for lessons later.  This had to be dealt with now.

"Hawkins!" she said sharply.  She had to repeat his name twice before he even heard her over the incessant noise now blaring through the office.

"Do not attempt to leave the Ministry.  Thank you for your attention.  The lifts are restricted to essential personnel only for the duration of this exercise.  All personnel, attention.  Do not be alarmed by this alarm..."

"What?"  The young man blinked, seeming to finally focus on Charlene.  "An...Auror killer?  Here?  But I...I barely saw him!  He just...he gave it to me, and I..."

Charlene sighed inwardly and pointedly did not look in Raynor's direction.  Judging by her boss's current temperament, there was no telling what would be the action to push her over the edge.

"Yes," she said firmly.  "And we're going to need the best description you can give us of him.  You said brown hair, brown eyes -"

She paused.  To the best of her knowledge, Hawkins had not actually spoken that description.  He had waltzed into the office (late, of course - probably taking a lesson from Eleor) and gone straight to the Head Auror's office.  If he'd been on time, she wouldn't even have registered his entrance.  Most of the young Aurors walked around doing nothing but looking busily important.

He hadn't given the description.  The description had come from Raynor.

"Go...find Bailey," she instructed after a beat.  The Senior Auror, while coming across as nominally incompetent sometimes, likely wasn't doing anything important.  At the very least, giving him a task to do during the lockdown would keep him from irritating Radley or Pratt and causing more trouble.  "He's probably hurrying back from the break room.  Tell him that he's to talk you through everything you did or said this morning to help you refresh your memory."

Harcroft was already gone, and the halls had become a wash of activity.  The Hitwizards were already rushing into action, along with what was probably half of a panicked Wizengamot.  The lockdown was going into effect.

Charlene's eyes flickered back to Tamis Raynor.

"Is there anything else we should know?" she asked evenly, as if her boss was a Seer and managed to fortuitously spout off suspect descriptions every day of the week.  Now wasn't the time to press it, but once they found their man, Charlene had a suspicion that there would be a very interesting debriefing on the horizon.