title reference | outfit

"Hello?" Molly felt properly scrubbed. Maybe it had been the muggle airport-style wand examination, or the umbrella and raincoat she'd been toting around since leaving Nottingham in the gloomy aftermath of the attacks. Her hair was sopping wet; she'd hurried through the London streets and toward the red phone booth which served as the visitor entrance of the Ministry, only to meet many a procedural roadblocks after dialing M-A-G-I-C and sinking below the puddled cement.

Finally, she'd made it to Level Four in the maze that was the Ministry, her bag stuffed with snacks for Frank and flowers for Dolly (whom she would visit in St. Mungo's shortly), and all manner of notebooks, owling-address books, and quirky handwritten calendars.

She felt very lost, like the first time she'd ventured around Hogwarts by herself. Sure, she'd been to the Ministry once or twice. (She'd even considered a desk job a few levels away from this one, but in the end had accepted Dolly's offer.) But it was still confusing, a little dark for her tastes, what with the fake window displays (which might have been imagination, if Molly were allowed to paint them with her own wand), and the well-dressed, tailor-cloaked Leaders of Today breezing past her importantly. Molly was not so polished or N.E.W.T-decorated as these government types. She was a clever woman, to be sure, hard-working, earnest, and hey-- she loved animals! Her cats would attest to it-- but this was certainly not Molly's element, the Ministry with its looming Ministryness. She only fancied watching them from afar, letting them protect the world and make the laws.

Until, that was, they'd somehow wrangled her brother into their midst.

"Hello," she tried again, flashing a bubbly, oh-so-Hufflepuff smile (it had never left her, despite graduation having been ages ago). She reached a hand toward the nearest woman. "Do you think I could speak to Fr-- Er, Eddie Pratt. I know he doesn't usually work this level, but I heard he might be here. Or, if not, is there someone I could be speak to about the case of Frank Pratt. He's... He's a..." Her throat felt itchy. Molly smiled and let out a breath of nervous laughter. "Erm, a werewolf, I guess...?"

A werewolf!

It felt so strange on her tongue. Molly was certain she was allergic to the idea. She had nothing against the fluffy men who barked at the moon, but Frank... he'd always been just Frank. And Molly had spent half her life getting used to the idea of having surprise siblings, let along werewolves in the family.

"I mean, he's my brother!" She added in a rush, correcting herself, wet, honeyed hair whipping over her shoulder as she nodded-- as if this would give her more ammunition to speak with someone important. "So, if you lot are done with him, I could just take him home, fix his tea, you know. I'm sure you have more important things to do. Frank's harmless as a pair of knit socks. I don't think he's any use for a cell."

And then, because she'd seen a massive poster over someone's desk, and couldn't help it--

"Ooooh, do you have any of those pamphlets on Kneazles around, by chance? I accidentally chucked the one they sent me in the post."

She blinked, decided against this course of action, crossed her arms, and shook her head instead of nodding this time. A slight blush came to her cheeks. What a selfish, mindless... Pratt. She'd been so worried about Frank when she'd opened the papers and been bombarded by the owls from St. Mungo's. Now she was here to collect him, to make sure he was all in one piece, to stand up for her family, and she'd been caught off guard by a silly poster. It was only... this place seemed such a far cry from Azkaban, however daunting, and Molly was still sure someone was playing an awful trick. Frank. A werewolf. She felt disoriented, in a haze in addition to feeling like a child.

"Right, no, that was-- nevermind. About my brother. Frank Pratt," she reminded the woman, in case she'd forgotten his name already. "I'm Molly, I'll give you I.D. if you need it. Although, the people on each floor have looked over my wand. I can't be anyone else but Molly, honest." She grinned again, hoping to win over the woman's help.

Griffon had been through a lot the last few days. Even if his charge of level four was only temporary, they were definitely getting the most out of it. He'd been neck deep in muggles over the last few days, having to obliviate the ones that had been attacked by one of the direwolves during the day. It was his least favorite part of his job- and had been the least favorite part of his job when he was wrangling yetis. Griffon just hated obliviating muggles. Even if it was a necessary part of the job.

He'd just come back round the werewolf wing of level four when he heard a young woman talking about her brother. Pratt. Ah. Griffon decided this was a better case for him instead of an assistant. "Molly?" he repeated, holding out his hand. "I'm Griffon Manley, interim head of level four. You're here about Frank, are you? Well now- that's an interesting little conundrum indeed!"

"Is there anything I can help you with?" Griffon asked. "I think I might be of slightly more assistance- even more than Auror Pratt, as this is my department, after all."

Molly spun to her left, brows raised toward the ceiling as she took in the admittedly friendly face of the man who'd called out her name. Did he know her? Merlin, did she know him? What a silly person to be managing Dolly St. James' contact books! But she'd better not tell Dolly that, or she'd be out of a job. (No, probably not. Her employer was much too sweet.) Besides, Dolly had had quite the week herself.

But, ah, everything seemed to make sense as the man continued speaking. Molly felt a little rude for ignoring the woman in red, but... "Mr. Manley," she greeted, taking the offered hand after only a moment's lapse in judgment. Manley? She wondered if that was English. It was sort of funny to say aloud, and she might have said so (not to his face!) if the day's events weren't so... unfunny.

Her grip wasn't strong, but not really weak, either. It was probably not what most people expected from her-- a little stronger than that, at least. But it was nonthreatening, and Very Molly Indeed. "Yes, I am. Of course I am. I'm his sister, so naturally I-- conundrum," she echoed, her voice going an octave smaller, her smile faltering a bit as she trailed off. Suddenly it hit her like a hex to the chest: this was going to be much trickier than she'd set out knowing. "Right." It was all she could say.

She took a deep breath, let go of his hand, and tried to look taller. "I think you can, yes, Mr. Manley." She tried not to wince at the idea of someone... well, owning a department. Whether it was a slight at her cousin, she couldn't say. "Watch out, though," she offered with a teasing smile. She couldn't help herself. "One day Eddie will have enough kids to man your whole floor." Maybe humor would work on this one. Or maybe not. "Mr. Manley."

Molly sobered her expression, stopped herself from crossing her arms, and instead clasped her fingers in front of her, casual and confident as if they were strolling in the park. (She tried, anyway.) "I'd really just like it if I could collect Frank and be gone. I'm sure you all have had a terribly busy day. If we could just keep this peaceful and... and quiet, it would be best, don't you think?"

Griffon did not think her joke about Pratt was funny. As much as he liked most of the aurors, he didn't like them coming around acting like they owned place- and they all had a tendency to do it. So instead of commenting, he simply pretended she hadn't said it. He liked jokes- if they were actually funny.

"Well, I'm sorry Miss Pratt- but you won't be collecting Frank today. I'm not sure if you understand the severity of the situation, miss. He was an unregistered werewolf, we suspect he might be one of the dire wolves, and furthermore a lot of people died. We don't know who did what, Miss Pratt, and there is a lot to sort out. There are muggles that were hurt, witches and wizards hurt, people killed, and the matter of direwolves. I hardly think it's realistic to expect something like that to be entirely settled in just four days."

Griffon knew that he was being harsh- but he didn't have time to fight with someone over the release of their relative. "To put it bluntly, Miss Pratt, Frank is going to find the holding cells here quite homey for at least another week as we continue to sort things out. Unregistered wolves is against the law, in case you weren't aware- a very serious law to have broken. And, if he is found to be responsible for any of the deaths we have on our hands, I'm afraid it could be a great deal longer than that."

Molly tilted her head like a puppy being locked inside the house on a rainy day. For a moment, it was as someone had hexed Manley with a muting charm. She didn't hear him. She did hear him. She heard him, but she didn't want to hear him. It was awful, what she was hearing. Serious. How had Frank Pratt gotten into this mess?! And all this, she'd been silly and selfish enough to think she was the biggest surprise in his quiet, law-abiding life.

The wrong place at the wrong time. That had to be it. Molly's lips parted as the thought took center stage in her mind. She was ready to voice it, but she caught herself.

She had to be careful with this one.

"... people killed."

She winced. She'd known it, but. But surely... not her brother. Surely it had been the other ones, the ones who liked killing. The Prophet hadn't said.

"I know the law," she protested weakly, but her voice was cruel or biting. If there was a wolf in the family, it wasn't Molly. "But sir, my brother was a victim, too. You have to know that! He didn't... he's such a good b- man, a down to earth sort of guy. Whoever turned him into... whatever he is... they had to have been a sadist to pick Frank!" Unless, of course, like Frank, they were completely unawares. Molly felt her cheeks turning colors again, and raised her voice to hide it. "At least let me see him, please Mr. Manley. I just want to talk. That won't hurt anyone or hamper this... this process. Will it?"

The idea of Frank being charged with murder... she was almost staring straight through Mr. Manley now. She felt like someone had poured ice-water over her head. She'd been handed a whole family on a pretty little plate when she was a girl. It wasn't a family without its quirks and flaws, but they were hers-- her baby brother and sister, her father, her step-mum. And now someone was trying to yank them away from her. It was a cruel joke, and even worse that Molly was feeling sorry for herself. Frank must have been terrified. He wasn't very much younger than she, but it was hard not to think of him as a "boy," as the cute kid with lots of dark curls and a big, goofy white smile. Frank with his books and his love for travel and his easy group of friends. Frank was not a murderer!

Her pleading was effective. Griffon would have allowed her to visit Frank without it- but she was very convincing. "I can certainly take you to see Mr. Pratt," Griffon said with a nod. "It won't hinder anything. We're still sorting things out, and I can assure you that we are doing our very best to get things done as quickly as we can," he assured the young woman.

"I will have to ask you to leave your wand with me. You shouldn't have made it past the welcome witch with your wand. She's supposed to check it in at the desk. Admittedly we are training a new one. Our previous welcome witch was killed during the attacks. Miss Sleeper was one of the direwolf victims," Griffon informed her. "We've had a lot of losses during the full moon, it seems." Griffon frowned slightly, then held out his hand to take Molly's wand. "I don't think you would try to hex anyone- but just in case," he assured her.

"Have you brought anything for Frank?" he asked. "I'll have to take a look through that, too, if you have. Just to make sure you've not brought him a wand or anything else. I know it seems a bit harsh, but it's just easier to follow protocol all around, I assure you Miss Pratt."

Molly let out a breath of relief, smiling a smile with the tiniest overbite-- a very Molly smile indeed, and one nearly as big and genuine as Frank's (it was what made them look most like brother and sister). "Thank you, sir! I-- my wand." Molly turned pink as the sky was gray. She reached into her bag, guilty eyes following fingers. Fishing the myrtlewood and unicorn hair bough from its depths, she clutched it like a five-year-old holding an oversized lolli. "Well, here..." She handed it over, swallowing hard, and nodding with compliance.

Molly hadn't meant to swipe her wand through security. She'd only... got to talking with the girl at the front, whom she knew from the pre-war days. "We're friends, the welcome witch and I. My husband works here," she explained. "So I know the procedures, badger's honor! But this is the first time we've had to catch up in ages, and we both sort of just... forgot... even when we went through the rest of the motions..." She tried to make it sound less incriminating. For the both of them. It had been an honest mistake. Maybe that's why she'd been stopped on every floor... They'd given her funny looks, but they must known her, some of them, as Mr. Bagman's silly little wife who was always sending them biscuits. They'd let her slide past, she realized now, blushing furiously.

"I'm so sorry to hear about the last witch," she added, catching Mr. Manley's eye again, sincerity plain in her own doe-like ones. "She was a very nice woman, always lovely when I visited." Professional and sleek in ways that Molly hadn't quite managed in her many months as Dolly's assistant. Sure, Molly was good at her job, but the balancing act could carry her to the clouds and back more times than not.

She tried not to think about how Georgianna Sleeper had died.

Digging through her purse again, she pulled out an absurdly large cake box, stuffed to the brim with cupcakes. She hadn't been thinking when she'd decorated them. The Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures... Molly let out a single exhale of nervous laughter, opening the box like a seeming peace offering as she handed it over. "Would you like to try one, Mr. Manley? The Lemon Kneazles have cream cheese frosting in the center, and that's toasted coconut on the top. They're quite good." At least they weren't steak-flavored werewolves.

"Not a problem!" Griffon assured her, taking the wand from her hands and handing it to his receptionist to tuck away in her desk. "I understand what it's like. You know, before I came back to the ministry I was in Tibet for about fifteen years wrangling yetis. When I got back catching up with everyone seemed to take hours. Don't bother your pretty little head about it!" he said with a soft smile. Griffon couldn't help but compliment pretty women. But he rarely meant anything by it. "I don't think you were trying to sneak it in to hex anybody."

He was surprised whenever she pulled out a box full of cupcakes. Griffon liked cupcakes. In fact, Griffon liked most types of food. He was a man and most people had said that the best way to a man's heart was straight to his stomach.

Griffon also knew that he should make sure to test the cupcakes before letting them through to Frank. But Molly had no criminal record, she seemed nice enough so far, and he seriously doubted the woman would try to poison anyone. Besides, her husband apparently worked at the ministry- or so she said- and Griffon couldn't imagine anyone whose husband worked at the ministry would try to poison someone. "I think he'll be glad to have those," Griffon conceded after a few moments of consideration.

And then she offered him a cupcake. "I could get some milk or tea for the two of you as well," he suggested, plucking one of the cupcakes in question from the box. "Would you like that, Miss Pratt?" Griffon asked before taking a bite of the cupcake. Which, from first taste, seemed to be incredibly delicious and not at all poisoned or dangerous. "Oh ho! That's very good!" he said after swallowing the large bite. "But it certainly does need milk or tea."

Molly swallowed her nervousness, replacing it with a grin of relief. It was always a weird sensation, to be stripped with her wand-- but she was thankful Mr. Manley was being gentle about it. Her initial decision that he was someone to avoid poking, prodding, and laughing around might have been a jump of the... well, wand. And he seemed to like cupcakes!

"I hope he does. I don't know what he's been eating lately--" Besides humans, apparently. Molly winced, though better of it, and tried to keep her smile in place. She was feeling very much like one of those muggle Piccasos. "Not that I think the Ministry food isn't up to par!" She had an inkling, but she didn't want to say so. She always sent Casper to work with far too much food. "Milk or tea would be lovely! Milk, probably. The frosting is a bit rich," she admitted, feeling sheepish. She couldn't resist sugar, not in the kitchen, and not when it came to feeding other people. Which seemed to be a job unto itself. Casper, Frank, all of their friends, Eddie's children... Molly liked to keep them supplied.

She was pleased this man could be added to that list. Not that Molly was the type to conspire in order to win favor! No, no... never. But if it helped her see her brother, why not? (Not that it was why she was offering, either!) She always liked people who liked her baking. "They're great with chocolate milk, too," she ventured. Or cocoa in the winter, but it made the situation a bit... stickier. It had to be balanced with something cooling, like ice-cream. Mmm, ice-cream. She wondered if Frank had had any lately. She hadn't thought to bring any! "I don't suppose you get many people in the holding cells having cakes or flowers delivered to them? But I haven't seen my brother in weeks, and he's without his books... and..." Right, right. Charges, trials, verdicts. Molly decided to quit while she was ahead.