“Well what’s it about, Ma’am?” A youthful blonde, overly pretty and scantily clad female enquired, twisting the quill she held around her fingers before biting the tip of it. She leaned forwards against the desk, causing her cleavage to increase, becoming overly noticeable and only causing the woman stood beside the desk to purse her lips in disapproval. Charisma Aldridge was already irritating and this floozy enjoying the minute extract of power she presently held over her was only going to make the anger flare.

Two slowly aging hands were placed carefully onto the desk as the older witch leaned her body forwards to allow her face to come closer to the brainless face attached to the pair of water balloons. Charisma smiled sickeningly as the ends of her long, wide and floaty sleeves of her burgundy robes settled on the desk, covering her hands.
“Case file number 564e9.” The Welsh witch began quietly, her accented voice barely above a whisper. “You seem exceptionally important here, dear. I’m sure they’ve told you all about it which is why you’d know how important it is I see this specific auror.” She paused and stood up straight, folding her arms. “They do tell you everything don’t they?”

Young witches really were terrible easy to manipulate. It only took moments to get the directions to Auror Trevelyan’s cubicle and have the doors magically opened for her. Charisma smiled and thanked the blonde flobberworm and proceeded to enter the offices of the Magical Law Enforcement department.  She followed the corridor as instructed and proceeded to enter the auror office. For an area so apparently confidential and secret no one really seemed to bat an eyelid at her presence. Instead men in smart robes just wondered around looking half dead. Or as if their life force had been sucked out by a squid only moments before. This was the group of men that so many fools relied on to keep the country safe. Charisma had lost her faith in these men fifteen years ago and chances were it would never be put in them again.

Charisma didn’t waste time in wandering around the office to be nosy. Instead she headed for her instructed destination like an owl on energy potion sent to deliver an urgent message. To her irritation, the witch found the specific cubicle empty and decided to wait. Therefore she sat herself in the comfortable looking leather chair, removed the previous day’s edition of the daily prophet from her pocket and proceeded to have a gander at what was on offer on the messy desk.

It felt like about half an hour when a familiar voice joined the mumble in the depressingly decorated office. Charisma sat up straighter, hearing the Cornish young man approaching, laughing and obviously chatting in cahoots with an arrogant sounding northerner. Charisma bristled and snatched up her paper. As the man came into sight, she threw the paper at him, it already having been opened to a specific article.

“Jonas Trevelyan! I thought the paper deceived me. Rydych yn idiot ffôl, boyo[1]. You’re a foolish idiot.”

1.	Welsh for 'You are a foolish idiot, boyo.'

Tuesday had gotten off to a decidedly better start than Sunday or Monday, even though it was doubtful that he'd be able to spend the evening out enjoying a pint or two of Guinness.  Aside from the workload and the fact that his preferable drinking companion was currently mostly unconscious at St. Mungo's, getting inebriated in public didn't seem the smartest way to spend his evening when the Runespoor smugglers were likely furious with him.

But Jonas was at least more at ease than he'd been in the preceding forty-eight hours.  He'd been kicked out of the office at a reasonable hour the night before, had spent the night in decidedly more pleasant circumstances, and somewhat amazingly, had been dragged to lunch by none other than one Edward Pratt.  Apparently, in addition to the unforgivable sin of his hair color, the red-headed Auror's 'mopey face' had been too much for his co-worker.  Pratt had insisted that if he spent too much longer looking at Jonas's expression, he'd want to stick his head up the wrong end of a blast-ended skrewt, and so some sort of break had been deemed necessary. 

Whatever the reason, Jonas was willing to take the offer as, if not a truce, at least a temporary cease-fire in the ongoing war.  The meal had stretched at least a good fifteen minutes longer than either of them could really afford to be gone, but it had been fruitful in its excess, giving way to a plan for perhaps the most epic of all epic pranks ever to grace the Auror office.

Jonas couldn't quite hold back a laugh at the thought as he and Pratt strode back into the Auror office.  "Yeah, I'll have Gwenna make something up tonight," he assured the other man, flashing him a quick smile.  Putting his daughter to work designing any sort of card meant the front cover would probably show a Tyrannosaurus Rex eating a zombie in rotting Auror robes, but considering the reception they were likely to receive for this prank, at least the picture would be appropriate. 

"You want to start drawing up a list?  I've got to stop into a copy shop later this week anyhow to get another ream of the Witch Weekly article run off.  Putting 'em up at St. Mungo's," he added cheerfully, looking incredibly pleased by this show of concern for his hospitalized partner.  "I can get 'em to print out five or six dozen of ours whilst I'm there, too."

He rounded the corner to his desk -- Adon's desk really, though he had currently inherited it by default -- only to be hit in the face by an unexpectedly flying newspaper.  It took him a full three seconds to even process that much.

"I -- wait -- what?"  Jonas blustered, looking dumbfounded as he focused on first the newspaper, then the woman, and then the paper again. "I'm a what?  But I didn't --... you just... -- I'm not -- .... Wait, how are you even in here?" he blurted out, seizing on the least likely of the current circumstances.

A pair of sharp blue eyes scanned between the overly flustered ginger man and a young blonde scruffy haired auror of a similar height atop of the golden rimmed glasses perched on her nose. She pushed those up onto the top of her head to survey the two properly.  The ginger, the target the curse breaker had hit the paper with right in the face, looked puzzled, confused and trying to hold onto some semblance of sensibility. He wasn’t likely to succeed, especially after pulling a stunt like rejoining an idiotic ministry who vainly attempted to run a country into the ground. Jonas’s friend, the blonde, cocky looking lad grinned, obviously relishing in his colleague’s torment.

If only she had another paper.

“The receptionist wearing a tea towel is as stupid as a troll and flobberworm mixbreed.” The witch responded, eyes shooting to the blonde auror who laughed before she once more targeted Jonas. “Just like you, Jonas. Stupid, idiotic, suicidal.” If Jonas had of been within reach, Charisma would have given him several pokes in the chest for good measure. As it was she remained in his seat and folded her arms.

“Imagine my surprise yesterday when I open the morning paper to see that.” She pointed to the paper she’d just launched at his face. “Auror Jonas Trevelyan. How long ago did you sell your soul to the devil, then?” Charisma spoke slowly, directly as she pushed herself up from the seat and got closer to Jonas. She’d seen this man grow up alongside her son and she’d be damned if she saw him being ruined by the ministry as well.

Ignoring the man who was rudely watching them with a smirk, Charisma took the paper off Jonas with a quick swipe and scanned down at it. “Interesting really how your partner gets attacked by a human ‘suspect’ and yet he ends up on the creature injuries ward.”

For 30 seconds Edward Pratt had come into contact with this feisty Welsh woman and he was already in love. Any person that threw objects into the ginger leprechaun’s face and didn’t have to face any possible consequences or his thick, annoying and begging to be chopped off tongue was quite a magnificent creation of Merlin’s. Not that he could understand everything she said. The Welsh accent was one he had been fortunate to not come into contact with often. Ed still struggled to understand Trevelyan, after all.

Despite what Ed had said to Jonas about wanting to deposit his head into the business end of a blast ended skrewt, Ed had actually enjoyed their planning meeting. He’d always liked the idea of putting dangerous animals in a room full of people and seeing what happened. There was something very exciting about it. But now there was a new animal in this room and she’d targeted Trevelyan, preying on him like a furious lioness. This really was a truly fabulous day.

Ed couldn’t keep the grin from his expression as the Welsh dragon went for her target at full pelt. He leaned against the wall of the cubicle, struggling not to laugh. However, as his green eyes shot to Trevelyan’s face, his efforts failed miserably and the northern auror snorted, his laughing taking over.

“Ha, Paddy. No one told me it were bring yer Mam into work day. She another dinosaur yer celebrating with?” Laughing to himself, Ed slapped Jonas on the back and grinned at who he presumed to be Jonas’s mother. “I’d be pissed givin’ birth to a ginger as well, luv.” And with that he turned and headed off to his own cubicle.

The Auror's face turned nearly as red as his hair as he gaped at the Welsh woman, looking dumbfounded.  As Pratt began to laugh and slapped him on the back, Jonas started, bristling as he shot a nasty look in the wake of the other man's departure.

"A month," he informed the Cursebreaker through tightly gritted teeth.  "I've been back a month.  And yeah, it is odd, innit?" he added, an edge creeping into his voice.  "And coincidentally enough, I haven't had enough to bloody well do without getting berated for --"

He broke off, his gaze snapping over to Tamis Raynor's open door.  The Auror Office, as high energy as it was, had a knack of going completely silent whenever anything even close to a disagreement was taking place.  If voices were raised, chances were that they'd carry straight into the Head Auror's Office.

Jonas didn't know exactly what Tamis's relationship was with her onetime future Mother-In-Law -- that was one thing he had never dared to ask either woman -- but he'd gotten the sense that they weren't on the best of terms.  Sharing any information about a classified case with a civilian was frowned on in the best of times.  There was little chance that Raynor would approve of him giving anything but an official statement to the mother of the Auror who had been murdered in the middle of the investigation fifteen years ago, not when the case was already on the verge of being so personal.

"Look, I've got to --"  He scanned over the messy desk, his eyes locking on a half-empty coffee cup that had probably been sitting there since before Adon had ended up in St. Mungo's.  "Get some coffee," he concluded with a clenched jaw, making a grab for it.  "Can we talk about this on the way?"

Charisma stared aghast at the arrogant ignorant auror that proceeded to confirm her opinion that the ministry was run by trolls in smart robes. And Dinosaur?! If she hadn’t been so angry at Jonas right now she’d have shown the Yorkshire idiot exactly what this dinosaur was more than capable of doing to an egotistical fool like him. As it was, she took a breath and stared at him leave, evidently working to calm herself down. But Jonas’ tone only served to cause more anger to fire up within the feisty Welsh witch. In her opinion, there was absolutely not berating occurring. Charisma was here for a few reasons. The main one was to make sure that this man she’d watched grow up wasn’t going to be ending up six feet under in a wooden box any time soon. If that was classed as berating him, she was okay with that. She wasn’t about to leave him to be eaten alive by the destructive force that was the ministry of magic.

But as Charisma was preparing to respond, Jonas ceased talking and his head span around in the direction of a private office just off the larger one. Char’s lips pursed and she took in a deep breath. She wasn’t daft. She knew no doubt who worked in that particular office and why Jonas had suddenly gone so oddly silent and while she was aware of the reasons, the fact still frustrated her. Jonas was worried about Tamis, a woman that despite her efforts, she’d not seen in fifteen years. Save for in the paper.

"Can we talk about this on the way?"

The curse breaker let out sigh and threw the paper down on the desk. “Coffee.” She let out a soft disbelieving  laugh and shook her head. “Lead the way, then.” Charisma’s tone of voice was harsher than intended. But she was mad at him, she was mad at this place for dragging him here and she was mad at that conceited auror that had deemed her a dinosaur.

“And don’t go trawling on with the rubbish your lot tell the papers, Jonas. I know you’re getting yourself into extremely hot water right now.”

The red-haired man kept his head down and his mouth firmly shut as he stalked out of the Auror Office, his gait so stiff that the usual limp was barely evident. 

"I'm not 'trawling on with rubbish,'" he informed Charisma tightly, barely looking at the woman as he continued to march down the hallway.  He wouldn't put it past Tamis to have the acoustics on Level Two perfectly enchanted so that she could hear every word that was uttered between the Auror Office and the lifts.  "And as far as I know, it's me own bloody business if I want to get in to hot water."

This was the frustrating thing about working in a department that functioned entirely on communal space.  Unless he wanted to kick Tamis out of her office -- and Jonas thought that at this point, he'd rather eat the bloody ceramic coffee cup in his hand than have that conversation -- then the interrogation rooms were the only thing that offered anything close to privacy. 

Jonas stopped alongside the first one and tried the doorknob.  Once it gave, he pushed the door open and stepped to the side, holding it ajar in a clear invitation for the woman to enter. 

"If you wanted something besides the rubbish we tell the papers, then you should have written me at the house," he informed Charisma in a low voice, his jaw set stubbornly.  "Not come storming in to the office, where, believe it or not, half the bloody Auror Corps is likely already talking about how I have visitors barging in, which makes me decidedly less able to say anything."

He shouldn't be frustrated.  He knew it.  But getting cornered by an unexpected guest for the umpteenth time since October was ridiculously irritating, especially when he'd thought that he had put the unending flow of unannounced visitors behind him when he'd accepted the bloody badge. 

"What is this about, Charisma?" he asked, unable to stop himself from gritting his teeth as he finally met the witch's gaze.  "Has the entire magical world decided that sending owls in advance went out of style after 1998?"

"And as far as I know, it's me own bloody business if I want to get in to hot water."

Charisma grit her teeth, biting back the remark that struggled against her will to present itself. Jonas didn’t want to talk about this right here and for the most part Charisma could put up with that. Despite how frustrating this all was. Her son had informed her over fifteen years ago that it was his own business as well. Charisma biggest regret was how she’d reluctantly agreed to let him do his job. She’d known he’d been stressed, she’d known he’d been scared and she’d known how dangerous the career of an auror could be. But she’d allowed her youngest son to do what he wanted and thought best despite the dangers and now she didn’t have that youngest son to berate and protect. But she was going to do her damndest to make sure this didn’t happen to Jonas.

The internal struggle continued as Jonas continued to instruct her she should have sent an owl to him.  He wouldn’t have responded with all the details. Certainly not if he’d been in this office for a month and she hadn’t known anything about it until the Daily Prophet had informed her. Charisma stuffed her hands in the pockets of her old and yet well kept robes and stepped past Jonas into the dull and depressing looking room. This one was worse than where they’d been before. But she presumed it was likely more private. They’d be less likely to be overheard.

He didn’t stand on ceremony. Instead Jonas got straight to the point and Charisma turned to face him, her hands still buried in the endless pockets of her robes.

“Concern.” The witch stated plainly. “If I’d have owled you in advance your response wouldn’t have been to come now in a minute. It wouldn’t have been to come at all.” Pausing, the witch leaned against a table and rested her hands on the edge of it. “I’m fond of you Jonas, I trust you and you’re not stupid. Or at least I didn’t think you were.”

A set of piercing blue eyes settled on Jonas’ and the witch watched him sadly. “You know as well as I do that this place and this job is destructive. What are you doing?”

Jonas eyed her for a long moment, his hand on the doorknob behind him.  Ever since 2002, neither he nor the Welsh witch before him had made any secret of their respective opinions of the Ministry of Magic.  The Second War was only the highlight of a long betrayal; too many deaths, too many heads turning away.  Nothing had changed, not really, save for that he was willing to trust individuals over institutions now.  But Charisma Aldridge deserved to hear that much.  And if Tamis Raynor hadn't contacted her yet, if she couldn't guess the obvious reason beyond the more subtle ones that explained why he'd agreed to return, then she deserved to know that the investigation had been reopened.

He pulled the door shut with a quiet click, turning to face the woman directly once more.

"Raynor asked me to contract on to the Runespoor investigation late last year," Jonas began, level and matter-of-fact.  The urge to defensively cross his arms against his chest was hard to resist; he settled for tucking his hands into his pockets as he leaned back against the door, taking the weight off his knee.  "They were short-handed, and I reckon she knew I was prying about anyhow.  I ended up helping 'em dig into some records."

All that was background.  It had been a fairly obvious hook, now that he looked back and thought about it.  Jonas wasn't entirely certain that he would have responded as readily if Tamis had come to him with some other case, although he suspected that in the end, it wouldn't have made much of a difference.  The camaraderie and the sense of purpose present in the Auror Corps were enough reason to take up a badge again; the chance to settle the account on Tait's behalf had just quickened the pace.

He paused, his demeanor softening somewhat, and looked at the older witch, meeting her gaze.  This was the part that probably shouldn't come from him.

"Someone returned Tait's badge to the Ministry in January, Charisma," he said quietly.  "Walked in past security, handed it off to an Auror trainee, and asked for it to be delivered to Tamis."  The badge that he and Adon had never seen taken off his best friend's body, that had somehow still disappeared from Ministry custody after the murder.  Jonas took a deep, steadying breath.  Tait's mother didn't need to know that.

"So the case was reopened," he finished, holding her gaze.  He didn't need to say which case.  "The start of a reason to stick around, innit?"

Charisma heard the words. They made time stop still. The next words reaching her ears rang through her mind, repeating and echoing as the witch’s knees weakened. Her lips were parted, eyes locked on Jonas’s as she gripped the table harder, feeling her energy suddenly drain as if she was sharing the room with a dementor and not a dear family friend. But his words had just sucked the life out of her. They’d left her weak and motionless as she stared at him, her mind trying to comprehend the words, the meaning behind the words.

The fact that Tait’s badge had never been recovered had been known to Charisma but little more. The ministry kept secrets. They hid things, corrupted things and ruined lives. They’d hidden the majority of facts about her son’s death. Everything was on a need to know basis. Charisma had never wanted to know details. She would never want to know and would never cope with them. But she desperately wanted to be able to leave her son to rest, for his killers to be found and justice to be served. Not that justice would ever be served. Someone had ended the life of a marvellous and dearly loved young man. Someone had ended the life of her youngest son.

Her brain started to slowly catch up and the older witch blinked through a couple of tears that had formed in her eyes. They vanished and she finally spoke, her usual friendly voice sounding hard and controlled.
“She knew?” It was evident the witch was working hard to manage any emotion building up. Her finger nails began to dig into the wood of the desk, leaving tiny impressions in the grain and her blue eyes never once faltered from Jonas’. She needed the truth.

He paused. He nodded briskly and a somewhat murderous look flashed into the woman’s piercing eyes. She pushed away from the table and approached Jonas and the door no slower than a Nimbus 2001. A hand shot for the door handle and she made to pull it open despite the weight leaning against it. She needed a ‘word’ with Tamis Raynor.

He had been half-expecting the shift in objectives, the sudden break for the door.  Jonas stayed where he was, his hands still in his pockets and his back pressed firmly against the door.  Charisma Aldridge was hardly petite, but he had a good six inches in height on her and the laws of physics were not going to work to her advantage.  It took a lot more momentum to pry the door open when he was leaning his weight firmly against it.

Jonas raised his eyebrows at the woman, staying firmly where he was.  "You go barging into Raynor's office, you're going to get the same rubbish we tell the papers from here on out," he pointed out, digging his heels into the floor to give himself added resistance.  Even though his tone was perfectly calm and reasonable on the surface, a hint of veiled concern lurked just underneath.  "Charisma, if you corner her, she won't give you anything; she'll push back just on principle.  And once she knows I said anything, I won't be able to, either."

It certainly wasn't that he wasn't sympathetic.  Granted, Jonas was well aware of the fact that he wasn't the most timely communicator himself, but the situation seemed somewhat beyond reproach.  Tait's family deserved to know that the investigation into his murder was being reopened -- for safety's sake, if nothing else.  Tamis might have had a unique relationship to the victim, but that didn't abridge her of her responsibility.  If anything, it make the lack of communication even worse.

That was how things worked in the Auror Corps.  They kept secrets.  Cloak and dagger.  Cards stayed so close to their chest, they didn't even know what they were holding half of the time.  The unending sense of mistrust had grated on Jonas ten and fifteen years ago when the Ministry's upper echelon had refused to even acknowledge the baser truths about You-Know-Who's return until it was almost too late, and it was already wearing on him now.  Tamis and the other government leaders seemed much more pragmatic than they had been a decade back, but the constant skepticism and suspicion still formed a deadly undercurrent through the Ministry.

"Look," Jonas started through gritted teeth, bracing himself back as he fought to keep the door closed.  He kept his expression as even as he could, did his best to meet and hold her gaze.  "You said you trusted me, yeah?  Will you trust me on this?"

Charisma pulled at the door and it didn’t budge. Jonas remained propped up against it, hands in his pockets making very little effort to block her exit route and path to Tamis Raynor’s office. Charisma was still quick in her older age but she certainly wasn’t strong. She never really had been. There was no way Jonas was budging despite how hard she pulled. But did that put the angry and determined witch off trying? Not at all.

"Charisma, if you corner her, she won't give you anything; she'll push back just on principle.  And once she knows I said anything, I won't be able to, either."

The smaller witch ignored the words and gave an almighty tug on the door, trying to ignore the fact Jonas was even there stood against it right then. Still nothing gave and the woman stepped back, scanning around the room. This was the only door out. She let out a long breath and a frustrated groan. This office was full of secrets. Secrets upon secrets that were going to be kept even more from her if she confronted the problem head on. It was infuriating. This wasn’t just some petty theft they were talking about. It wasn’t something that should be kept from the mother of the victim either!

Jonas wasn’t going to budge anytime soon and that was glaringly obvious as he requested her trust.
“That’s not fair, Jonas. Let me pass.” The newly reinstated auror held his ground. The Welsh witch, still looking angry, watched him for a moment before letting out another long, controlling breath. She marched back over to the table, twisting around to face Jonas. She couldn’t be calm. But apparently she couldn’t go and drag all the truths out of the woman that had kept all this from her. Charisma deserved to know!

The only way she was going to find out about this now was to speak to Jonas in as calm a manner as she could right now. Tamis, the woman that had almost become her daughter in law, a woman she’d loved and thought highly of had kept a horrendous secret from Charisma and Tamis would certainly hear about Charisma’s thoughts on this at another point. Hopefully soon. Hopefully after this talk.

“The fifteen year old murder case for my youngest son has been open for a month and no one thought to tell me? Tait’s badge was returned to his fiancée and head of the aurors and that’s not worthy information to tell his mother? And by who? Could he have been the one? Did you idiots let my son’s murderer just walk into this place and return a souvenir of his exploits?” The witch was pacing, a way to let out the energy she really wanted to use to move Jonas out of her way and go for Tamis. But Jonas was an auror. He was stronger physically and no doubt more than a match with wands. “If I hadn’t have ambushed you today when would I have found out, Jonas? Would anyone have told me before the whole thing got covered over like last time?”

There was a distinct moment where, once the Welsh witch had backed down and begun firing off angry questions at him instead of trying to break by him, Jonas realized he was quite capable of selling Tamis Raynor up the river.  Whatever reason the Head Auror might have had for not contacting the Aldridges was likely of similar type and moral value to her refusing to immediately agree to come over to his house for dinner.  Charisma was looking for a villain, for someone she could blame, and all he had to do was step free of the door and he wouldn't have to deal with the problem again until Tamis came to collect his head later.

But pointing the blame at her wouldn't help.  Tamis would murder him -- although he was much less frightened by the Head Auror now than he had been at 17 or 24, so her temper was becoming much less of a deterrent -- and Charisma would end it by storming out of the Ministry.  He knew the Cursebreaker's opinion on the government.  If something did happen, if Tait's murderer continued to play whatever game he was after and chose to get back in touch with the Aldridge family, Charisma would never report it.  She'd keep it to herself, and even if no one in her family got hurt as a result, they'd lose a potentially vital clue in piecing this mess together.

He needed her to cooperate.  Which meant that he needed her angry at someone she would eventually forgive, not Tamis -- or even Adon.  He took a deep breath, readying to take full responsibility and offer his apology, when her last question hit him like a slap.

Jonas looked back sharply at the woman, his expression tense.  "It's not going to get covered over like the last time," he said, coolly and evenly, as he crossed his arms defensively against his chest. 

That, he was certain of.  Whatever had caused the case to get buried in 1994 wouldn't steamroll anything today.  They were too determined, too stubborn, and even if Jonas ended up dead in an alleyway somewhere, Adon Eleor didn't strike him as the sort to walk away from this.  Behind Adon was his brother Dreogan.  Behind Jonas was Tamis.  And Archer.  The generation that had known Tait the closest were now most of the people who were running things, and neither internal pressure nor the threat of death were going to convince them to drop it this time around.

He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face, trusting that Charisma wouldn't use the opportunity to break for the door.  Getting defensive about his commitment to the case or the Auror Corps wasn't going to help.  He needed to move the conversation forward.  Get Charisma beyond being furious.  Otherwise, he was likely to be stuck in the interrogation room for the rest of the day holding down the door until she agreed not to immediately break for Raynor's office upon her exit, and as pleasant as the current standoff might be, he really did have other things that he needed to do.

"Look, I'm sorry," he volunteered, cautiously meeting the woman's gaze.  "I should have written about the Auror bit, and I should have checked to make sure someone had written you.  Been playing a bit of catch-up for the past month," he added, managing an almost sheepish tone.  That was certainly true -- adjusting to working regular hours again, trying to juggle three cases with the nuances of the Auror office, and now dealing with the aftermath of the assassination, he was exhausted, and that didn't even take into account the murkiness of his family situation.

"If you've got questions about it, I'll do me best to answer 'em."  He couldn't tell her everything, and wouldn't even if he thought he could get away with it, but pointing that fact out to a very angry witch did not strike Jonas as the best way to move the conversation along.  The red-haired man managed a weak smile, crossing his arms again.  "You want me to start with the one about how we're all idiots?"

After her final question, Charisma didn’t miss the sharp look from Jonas as he sternly stated “It's not going to get covered over like the last time.” And the only thing that came in response to that somewhat shocked Charisma herself. She laughed. It wasn’t a laugh that one does after seeing or hearing something of grave hilarity. It was nervous, disbelieving. Because the Welsh witch was disbelieving. She was shocked, angry and didn’t trust for one second that this wouldn’t once more be swept under the rug. The ministry weren’t to be trusted. They’d more than proved that. Which is why she made a point never to cooperate with them. The Alrdidges now kept to themselves, sorting out their own problems. But she had trusted Jonas. Could she now? He’d waited until he was forced to let her know about any of this. But what choice did she have? It was trust what Jonas told her, or at least listen to it or return home to Ryan and explain why she hadn’t forced as much information as possible out of the young man.

And this only continued to get better and better. Jonas had been playing ‘catch up’ he’d been getting his feet back under the table in this corrupted little office. It ‘slipped’ his mind to tell her. Apparently this was just one of those things. The sheepish tone of his pathetically attempted confession caused the woman’s eyebrows to narrow as she glared across at him. He was still at the door. Still refusing to budge from it.

“Well that much is obvious. I got in here with a quick lie to your receptionist because she was more interested in protecting her ego than keeping people out. That...that girl” Charisma waved at the door, allowing herself to get angrier, “allowed someone that could have been my son’s murderer into this office and surprise surprise, she still has a job!”  The witch once more began to pace, up and down the length of the room. At the end next to Jonas and the door she span on the heel of her incredibly well worn boots and eyed Jonas.

“And this Auror in training. What of him? Does he remember the man or is Tamis hiring chimps?”

In spite of himself, the last question made the red-haired man crack a grin.  "Hired me, didn't she?" he quipped nicely.  "Naw.  Got a description, but it's nothing for sure.  Even if we got a good match, with polyjuice it might not mean much."

Especially now that they had a Metamorphmagus in custody.  Kanika hadn't alluded to delivering the badge, but then, she hadn't admitted to much.  If the Runespoor smugglers had been using her for more than just one hit, then any physical description was somewhat suspect.

Jonas bit back a sigh.  There was nothing that he could do about that now.

"I'd say the important bit, though, is that someone is sticking their head up," he ventured, adopting a cautious tone as he watched Charisma carefully.  "You do something like that -- sending back a trophy from a bloke that you killed -- it's either as a challenge or a warning."  Which wasn't entirely true -- there was also Adon's theory that the badge had been returned because something had been done to it.  And the mystery of who had taken it to begin with, if it hadn't been lifted from Tait's body.  "And walking in bold as day, or hiring someone to do that, that's meant to leave us grasping."

It took nerve, there was no doubt about that, and doing so seemed a considerable risk.  Walking in to the Ministry was meant to make a statement; there were a dozen safer ways to deliver the badge.  If anything, it seemed like a cloak and dagger routine designed to make Tamis and her Aurors start jumping at shadows.  But to make that happen effectively, there had to be more prearranged shadows for them to jump at.

"All the dramatic flair makes me think, though, that he'll likely stick his head up again."  His attention was fully focused on Charisma now, even if he tried to be nonchalant about it.  "If it's the same bloke, he held on to the thing for near-on fourteen years.  Why send it back now?"  Jonas raised his eyebrows, meeting the woman's gaze.  "You got any idea what might draw 'im out of hiding right quick like this?"