Late Friday afternoon, post Quiddich-invasion.

Even if he had been struck deaf, dumb, and blind on his way to the Ministry, Jonas imagined that he would have been able to navigate his way down to Level Two and all the way up to the door of the Auror Office without putting a foot out of place.  It was incredible how little things had changed in ten years.  Certainly, small details were different; he didn't recognize the Welcome Witch, although she was entirely friendly when he had presented his wand and credentials for inspection, and the statue in the middle of the atrium had resumed its original form, which represented a drastic improvement as the current version did not involve witches or wizards who appeared to be stepping on anyone's head.  But for the most part, the halls were exactly as he remembered, down to the voice advising him of his present location on the lift and the squeak of the floor under his shoes. 

It was, he had to admit, a bit surreal being back.  Even with the cases he'd been working and the prior permission that Tamis Raynor had granted him, Jonas had avoided setting foot in the Ministry.  His last week in the magical community during the war was still vivid in his mind: the establishment of the Muggle-Born Registration Committee, the summons to appear before the Wizengamot, Scrimgeour's sudden fall and Thicknesse's equally sudden rise all stuck with him too well to forget.  Even though he intellectually knew that the right side had won, that the world he'd known had gone back to normal, it was still difficult to accept it.  Betrayal had a way of searing itself into memory.

Today, he had dressed purposely Muggle.  A long coat, his consultant's badge, a fedora hat that he could keep shaded over his eyes.  It was hard not to be jumpy, but appearing in a context that couldn't have been farther from Auror robes at least let him feel apart, even if it might get him looks in the Atrium.  He might walk among them, but he was not one of them.

Jonas paused just inside the door of the Auror Office, letting his gaze play over the room, doing his best to ignore the similarities, focusing on the differences.  The door to the Head Auror's office was open, but he didn't particularly want to run into Tamis Raynor right now.  Even after their recent visits, he still had yet to see the woman in her official role, and his first visit back to the Ministry seemed an auspicious time to break the trend.  Being back was painful enough as it was without challenging his personal paradigm.  The day's mission was to get in quietly, speak to whom he needed to, and then remove himself from the premises quickly.

Tucking his hands into his pockets, the private investigator sauntered easily along the edge of the room, doing his best to minimize his limp as he took the long route around to a familiar cubicle.

Luckily, the individual he was hoping to find - still a man of habit, obviously - was exactly where he'd hoped he would be.  Merlin forbid anyone alter their desk location in over a decade.  The Ministry probably had regulations about that sort of radical change.

Looking faintly amused, Jonas leaned his arms on the top of the cubicle wall, resting his chin on them as he peered down at the seated man and cleared his throat.  "Well, I've got to admit, I'm glad to see that you're putting in your full forty hours this week," he remarked cheerfully, favoring him with a crooked grin.  "What, ten years go by and they still won't let you have an office with a door, mate?  You ought to have a word with your supervisor about that."

Archer was bent over his desk, working on mapping out locations.  He was trying to pinpoint a central locality, something that would lead him in the direction he wished it would.  There was just a bit of difficulty in doing so, considering some of the incidents occurred in Muggle London, things happened in Scotland, there was just… not an indicative pattern he was looking for.  Nothing was easy about this case and it kept him up most nights, and kept him busy most days.

After the cool down about the Quidditch thing, which Eddie was going to have to deal with his son when he got home, Archer got sent back to his work area.  It was like being punished, like a little kid.  This work was like being punished, actually.  Punished for his inability to figure it out.  Rufus was on the floor near his chair, chewing on something that was squeaking a lot more than Archer wanted it to and he grumbled softly.  It kept the young pup engaged – it didn’t hurt that the toy was in the shape of a particular colleague, one with red hair and a stupid grin.  Bailey hadn’t seen it yet.  Archer couldn’t wait for the day he did. 

Moving his foot, he heard the squeaking stop and immediately, Archer tried to direct his foot away, but it was too late.  Rufus was up and pouncing on the black boot, trying to bite at the leather and Archer could hear his teeth on the silver buckle.  Leaning down, Archer scooped up the pup and sighed as he growled, trying to wiggle and get back to the offending boot.  He was still in the process of being trained to only attack dark magic.  Archer’s boots were not dark magic.

Ruffling the growing pup’s ears a bit, Archer snorted as the pup swiveled its head to lick his face, catching his nose.  “Ah, gross,” he wrinkled his face and put the dog on the ground again, picking up the redheaded toy and wagged it in front of his mouth before Rufus took it and went back at it, squeaking away.  He supposed that was better than having his boots attacked. 

He settled back into his map, but only for a moment, interrupted by the sound of a voice.  Archer leaned his head back quickly, wondering who on Earth was going to bother him, and he raised his eyebrows.  “Trevelyan?” he asked with raised eyebrows, the crooked grin and hat looking slightly bizarre upside down. As soon as he identified his interrupter, he twisted his chair around and laughed a bit.

“Forty hours? When did I start my vacation time?” Archer asked, clearly indicating that he was putting in much more than that.  He didn’t even know what he was doing, but it was certainly more than forty.  Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Archer couldn’t stay standing, and Rufus had abandoned the squeak toy to sniff at the new person, his tail wagging in expectation as he nosed around his legs and shoes.  So much for vicious guard dog, Archer thought, realizing just how much training was going to be necessary here. 

He glanced back up at Jonas and laughed.  “Eh, if it isn’t broke…” he waved his hand, the rest of the saying didn’t matter, Jonas would get it – there were more important things going on right now.  “What are you doing here?  Come to drop off a resume?  Kick Bailey out of your old desk and resume where you left off ten years ago?  Your last case is probably cold by now though,” he smirked easily.  It was a way of asking why he was here without saying it.  It was strange, especially in that get-up and him being allowed in was even stranger. 

“You’ll need to talk to her about replacing this shabby mess with a new set of robes.  Doubt you still fit into your old set.  Putting it on with the years, eh, Jonas?" he smirked with a laugh. 

Jonas flashed his former partner a smile, setting his backpack down on the ground as he bent to examine the puppy.  He held his hand out for it to sniff, shielding a sneeze against his arm before grinning up at the older man.

"Why the bloody hell did you let Bailey take me old desk?" he asked cheerfully, flashing him a lopsided smile as he willingly scratched the dog between the ears.  "I expected better from you, partner.  You should have at least saved it for Eleor."

It was easy to slip back into the exchange - made even easier when they were both standing in this office.  The banter was familiar, comfortable, and he couldn't help feeling slightly guilty again that he had never actively sought out Archer Radley.  The other man had been a friend as well as a co-worker, and his recent fall-out with Lexus and encounter with the Eleor brothers had reminded Jonas what a luxury it was to have someone that he could trust at his back.  Where Adon was an unpredictable spitfire, Archer had always been stalwart and steadfast; Jonas had never had reason to doubt his temperament or his judgement.  Their partnership had always been an easy fit, with a relaxed give-and-take that had made working together seem natural.  For the first time in years, he couldn't help missing the days when he hadn't had to work alone.

Archer's suggestion for why he'd stopped in, though, was obviously not the answer.   Jonas gave a snort, using his hand to wrestle with the puppy for a moment before giving it one last scratch and straightening once more.  Even if he'd finally swallowed the bullet and returned to his old workplace, it would take an act of the divine to get him back in red robes.  Some hatchets would never be buried.

"Projecting a bit there, are we?" he asked nicely, eyeing Archer up and down as if sizing up his robes.  "And naw, don't think I have the experience to keep up with you lot nowadays.  I'm too out of practice.  Besides," he added brightly, "your boss'd never take me back.  The first night I dropped in to visit her, she said that if I caused her any trouble, I'll see to your funeral personally, Trevelyan," he mimicked, dropping his usual drawl for Tamis Raynor's crisp British enunciation.

"Which, in any case, means if I dropped off a resume, I'd likely have mere hours to live," he added good-naturedly, flashing Archer an enormous grin.  "Got to admit I was considering it, though.  Figured it might be a chance to one-up her after the security alarm, even if just so I got to see her face, but I was a bit worried she might get spiteful and threaten to take me up on it despite both of our better judgement.  And then one of us would kill the other one, and there'd be all that paperwork to fill out," he concluded cheerfully, looking far too bemused by the prospect.  "And you'd probably get stuck with it, mate.  And there goes your vacation."

“Didn’t want anyone else to catch whatever it is that makes you both bloody gingers,” Archer smirked as he pushed himself out of his chair.  “I’m clairvoyant, I can’t predict the next cool person to walk through the door is,” he also pointed out, putting his hands in his pockets.  Slacks were the easiest things to wear to work, particularly if he was going to be sitting all day, and really far more comfortable if something came up. 

Glancing down at Rufus, Archer snorted as the puppy sniffed at his hand and tried to paw at it before Jonas scratched his head.  Rufus was a spitfire.  That was at least the benefit of the crup blood.  It really needed to show more or he would be somewhat useless at detecting dark magic, even if he was supposed to have a good nose and good instincts.  Tamis had assured him it would pan out, eventually, though she never did really say when…

Glancing up again, Archer laughed and shook his head as Jonas copied Tamis’ voice – ignoring his comment about projecting.  Archer had only a vague idea of what that meant, but did not feel like delving into it.  There was something slightly more important going on anyway.  “All the better reason to make her your employer, then she can’t kill you.  Too much paperwork that she can’t sweep under the pile,” Archer grinned, half-joking.  There were benefits to being an auror and Jonas would be getting a lot of benefits that he wasn’t getting now just doing some pick-up work. 

Though, Jonas brought up his long and straggled storyline about how they’d end up killing one another and then Archer would be left with the paperwork.  Laughing, he pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head again, stepping out of the tiny cubicle, Rufus remaining inside per the parameters of the spell he had put up.  The pup growled slightly, knowing the consequence of going too far out – and having learned it was much smarter to stay in, he sat at the entryway and wagged his double-tails (that Archer just hadn’t had the heart to get removed yet) and looked up at the pair expectantly.

Archer shrugged slightly and had to point out the obvious, “What vacation?” before grinning easily, “So if you’re not here to make your employment permanent, is this a field trip?  Wanted to see what real adults do for a living?  I didn’t really expect a social call at work.” 

[Fly-by post.  ]



“The Aurors Office does not get social calls. You need clearance to get in,” a voice reminded pleasantly from behind Jonas, the owner of it obscured by the ginger man’s height.

Tamis Raynor’s head peeked around him, peering up carefully at the two men, distracted enough that she did not immediately acknowledge the puppy that flopped its tails against the floor in recognition. It was like a bizarre flash of déjà vu, watching the two men grinning at each other, cluttering the isle between cubicles unproductively. Her thumbs tapped against the top of the freshly filled teacup cradled between her hands that she had stopped to fill on her way back to her office, clearly debating if she wanted to linger.

Revisiting those memories of ten years past, she decidedly decided against it. It left her unfairly outnumbered. Slipping politely between them, she paused long enough to give Jonas a quizzical once over, from hat to shoes. If that was traditional muggle apparel, she did not know why they bothered with muggle concealment and disguise. One of her eyebrows twitched, but she did not say anything. Instead, she shook her head and continued on.

“You would get life insurance,” Raynor called back, commenting on the previous conversation. A benefit if she decided to come through on her threat and kill him.

Just how long she had been listening in on the former partners she did not bother pausing long enough to say. Some said she had the office rigged with disillusioned extendable ears, all leading back to her office where she sat all day, listening in on her employee’s conversations. Others claimed that Pratt’s theory about her being a dragon-in-disguise were true and she had super-human hearing abilities. Others still shrugged it off, saying that she was Tamis Raynor and that meant she just Knew.

The simple fact that sound tended to carry with how the Auror Headquarters was constructed seemed far too mundane of an explanation.

The private investigator did not jump, precisely, but at the sound of the voice behind him, he straightened to his full height so quickly that the effect was nearly the same.  Jonas cleared his throat, obviously torn between trying to mitigate the damage by looking appropriately abashed or just giving in to full-fledged amusement.

"Yeah, the problem with life insurance being that it doesn't actually do anything to keep me alive!" he called after her cheerfully, drumming his fingers on the wall of Archer's cubicle.  If they wanted to play this game, he could play it too.  All three of them knew that he hadn't come back to have anything to do with the Auror Corps.  That ship had sailed long ago, and it wasn't ever coming back into port again.  He wasn't sure when the game had switched from threatening to do him in to threatening to give him a job, but Jonas had no doubt that they were equally meant in jest.  Raynor knew him too well to want him working for her.

Besides, he couldn't help noting that it was very likely that after the following conversation, Level Two would not be feeling particularly inclined to joke with him anymore.  There were so many safer ways to go about sharing this information.  Even with Adon Eleor aware of the entire situation, Jonas could have probably put enough pressure on the other man into letting him cover his tracks.  He could have given the evidence to Adon, reported it anonymously, even made up a completely non-existent third party source and claim that he'd happened upon it accidentally.  When it came to falsifying information, Muggles were light years ahead of their magical brethren.

Even so, not coming clean felt wrong.  Along with destroying a budding contact on the other side of the tracks, giving this bit so directly likely meant losing the relationship that he'd been working to rebuild with the Aurors - and after the information that he'd already passed on to Raynor earlier that week, he had a suspicion that he wasn't very high in their books for 'trustworthy,' even if he was getting improving marks for 'cooperation.'  But after everything he'd said to Lexus a week ago about responsibility, he couldn't very well not take the hit for this one.  Consequences didn't absolve one from doing the right thing.

Jonas cleared his throat, and then glanced at Archer, bending down to pick up his backpack again.  "No, it's not a social call," he replied, his tone becoming more serious.  "And it's not business that's already on record, either.  Is there somewhere private that we can go talk, Arch?"

There was nothing Archer liked more than one of Tamis’ signature walk-bys.  She did so without most people knowing she was on her way and by the time she had walked by, mouths were too busy hanging open to call anything in return to her clipped comments.  Of course, both Jonas and Archer knew enough about her and her traits to be immune to the hanging mouths, but it did not stop his head for turning quickly as she started to speak, and he could not restrain an amused smile from flourishing on his face.

Shaking his head as she went by, Archer paused a moment before looking back at Jonas.  “She’s gotten better at that,” he informed him with an easy smile, though he had to roll his eyes at the life comment.

“Mate, that’s why you’d have me.  Don’t trust your old partner?” he raised his eyebrows at him, “I’m the best life insurance policy you could get,” which was obviously true.  Archer was a loyal partner and he would go down for one of his men if he had to.  He’d never come across that yet, at least not in a true life-or-death situation, but he would, one of these days, they all did.  Everyone was tested in their own way, and Archer was just waiting for his test. 

While he was waiting around, he was going to make the best of it though, and if that meant doing his best on a relationship with his boss and trying to convince his old partner to come back to work, that’s what Archer was going to do.  He didn’t let the looming bony finger of the future loom to closely over his shoulder – Archer was living the life he was given, and that was enough for him.  He was glad that Jonas was finally weaseling his way back into the life that he had crafted for himself ten years ago.

So, Archer didn’t want to waste any time getting to whatever business was had here.  Jonas was clearly not here for a social call, you really couldn’t be, as Tamis had pointed out, so glancing at him critically when he asked for somewhere private to talk, Archer did not know what the man’s angle was.  This had to be something about his dealings at the Chimera.  It struck Archer to the core that it had to be that.  He didn’t know what the Ginger was doing around there, but when he had ever admitted he was hanging about, there had to be something bad going down.  Thankfully, Jonas was coming here rather than dealing with it by himself.

Nodding, Archer exited his cubicle, leaning down to rub Rufus’ head before he started to walk.  The puppy barked after him, but stopped a few seconds later – the squeaking recommencing from under the desk.  It must have been driving Ackerly and Harcroft positively  barmy.  Archer hesitated to care much and led Jonas toward the interrogation rooms, the most private rooms in the section of level two.  He’d cast an extra muffling charm, just in case.

“You in trouble?” he looked at him over his shoulders, asking the natural question first, one that wasn’t likely to be confidential, at least until they reached the room and Archer flicked on the lights with a swipe of his wand – the flames on the candles flickering to glow and the two chairs and table sitting ominously in the middle.  He hoped this would not be one of those times he’d need to use this room other than for the purpose of getting information.  He grinned at his friend in the slightly uncomfortable way one who knew something was up did.  "What's it you need, Trevelyan?"

Archer, true to form, accepted his request without question and led the way out of the office area.  Jonas nearly started as he realized that the other man was bringing him to the interrogation rooms.  Using them made sense; they were private and soundproof, and shouldn't get nearly as much attention as it would if they commandeered an office, but the idea of having the upcoming discussion inside one made him a little more wary.  Whatever the banter, the old friendships decayed and rekindled, they weren't all on the same side here.  The Aurors obviously knew it, and if Jonas was going to keep his head and think his way out of this one, he was going to need to remember that fact as well.

He followed Archer into the interrogation room, running both hands over his face.  His old partner's first question nearly made him stop again.  Jonas wasn't sure whether to deny it or just burst out laughing.  After the events of the past few days, between the attack on Dreogan, personally betraying the bloke who was likely now out to kill him, having to explain everything to Anna, the explosion with Adon only the day before, and what he was now about to do, there was no end to the trouble he was in.  It had moved beyond worrying and into the realm of hilariously ironic.

Jonas pulled out a chair and lowered himself carefully into it, dropping his backpack on the floor next to his seat.  The fact that he was currently sitting on the wrong side of an interrogation table did nothing to inspire his confidence in how the following conversation was likely to go, but there were times when it was necessary to stop thinking and soldier on. 

Archer was watching him - still smiling, but clearly on guard.  The private investigator took a deep breath, and then gave him a nod, leaning over to unzip his backpack.

"I need to come clean with you," he said, quietly but matter-of-fact, as he dug through the satchel for one particular file folder.  "I think this is your case." 

Finding the file, he balanced it against the table in his lap, flipping through it silently.  The Muggle photograph that he'd been looking for was near the front; he'd put it in a plastic bag earlier, for all the good it would do.  Fingerprints meant very little to wizarding investigations anyhow.  Pushing any apprehension aside, Jonas set it on the table and slid it across to Archer, positioning it so that the face of the young, smiling two year old boy was facing towards the Auror.

"Robin Adani," he stated unnecessarily, watching the other man's face.  Meeting his eyes.  "The missing kid, yeah?  I saw the flyers up around Diagon."

The lack of answer to his question was almost an answer in itself.  Archer knew when something was wrong, and though he attempted to keep a positive tone, he wanted to know what was going on and wanted to know soon.  It was making him anxious to not have the information up front, and possibly dealing with something that one of his old friends was dealing with, well, it made him nervous that he wouldn’t’ just be using the interrogation room for privacy. 

But, it was the only place for them to talk.  So, shutting the door with that deadening click, it felt odd, sitting in the same seat he typically sat in in these rooms, but looking at a familiar face that he suspected had nothing to do with dark magic.  Perhaps he had nothing to do with it explicity, but accessory was just as strongly attributed to criminal behavior, and Archer hoped that he had accidentally happened upon something, and came here first, that would make the issue a lot less heavy.

But, coming clean didn’t sound like an accident.  And his investigation also wasn’t exactly a well known thing.  He was buzzing around the Chimera, gathering information, but that meant Jonas was aware (obviously from their last conversation – having heard Trevelyan mentioned several times in the last few visits and from his contacts), so all of this was hard for Archer to really process.

He remained quiet as the folder was slid across the table, staring at him.  It was clearly one of Trevelyan’s, not from the office, if so, that would have caused an uproar.  No, it was the Private I’s folder, and Archer took a deep breath as Jonas rifled through the file, looking for something.  He didn’t want to breathe, and wanted less so when the familiar face looked up at him. 

Behind the plastic sheen, Archer could see the face of the young boy – one he had known to be a colleague’s child, a tortured colleague, a woman who had been imperiused, traumatized once and now had her son abducted.  It was a very personal case to the office.  “Where did you get this?” he asked immediately, looking at him with an intense stare, trying to read what was going on behind Jonas’ eyes – in the recesses of his head.  What was this and why was he doing it?

“What do you know about him?” Archer’s voice was harder than it had been, anxious with a twinge of anger, “What is this, Trevelyan?”

Jonas took a deep breath, keeping his eyes on the other man's, trying not to read too much into any shifts in expression.  The best thing to do was to stick to the facts, lay out what he knew clearly and logically.  Who, what, where, when; the why was up to Radley.  He hadn't come to explain or make excuses.  If the end result was getting taken into custody, he'd have to play it by ear.

"That's a photo of Robin Adani," he said, keeping his voice calm and even as he laid his hands flat on the surface of the interrogation table.  No wand, no threat.  Cards down; all in.  "Cinaed Tawse, the bartender at the Black Chimaera, hired me on to put surveillance on him."

He looked quickly to Archer for a moment, asking silent permission, and then picked up the file again.  Whatever expression the older man had on his face, it couldn't match the disappointment and betrayal that Jonas imagined he would have gotten on Tamis Raynor's.  Confessing this mess to his former partner, however much it might hurt, couldn't match how awful it would have been to go to his former best mate's fiancee.  Tait never would have gotten trapped in this mess.

"November 16th," he said, checking the date inside the file.  Radley would be able to verify it all; Jonas knew from Raynor that the Aurors were keeping tabs on the comings and goings at the Knockturn Alley pub.  "I was visiting Tawse's place, and he pulled me aside to ask if I'd work a job for him as a favor.  He'd helped me out on a previous case," he confessed, keeping his expression impassive as he looked to Archer again.  "Said he had a son whose mother, Margo Valdean, had been murdered, and so the kid was being raised by Muggles.  He wanted more information about him, so he asked me to dig around.  Gave me the picture, and we agreed on payment.  I don't have anything from him in writing, but I kept track of everything on me own end."

Jonas flipped the folder shut, tossed it across the table so that it landed in front of Archer.  He swallowed hard.  The room felt suddenly chilled, but it was probably just a trick of his imagination.  "I kept watch for about a month, and then turned everything over to him.  Everything's in there," he said unnecessarily, nodding to the folder.  "You want to hear my conjecture, I can tell that to you, too."