The door to their new Head’s office was closed. Respect and the norms of social behaviour would have dictated that Edward Pratt knock and await direction from their recently appointed boss to enter his bureau before discussing the disturbing issues at hand. Eddie rarely paid attention to what was socially acceptable. He did what he thought was right and most of the time he did a good job at it. This time in particular, he was too angry, too worried to bother knocking and awaiting a response that may not even come.

Instead the riled up auror walked past the desk next to the entrance of the office, ignoring the witch that jumped up, berating him indignantly and pathetically attempting to deny his access to the office. Pratt’s empty hand shot to the door handle and he pushed it open, marching into the large elaborately decorated office and making an unforgiving beeline for the head’s desk as the door forcefully slammed against the wall.

Without offering a greeting or waiting for the questions, Ed slammed his message down on the desk before Rosier where next to this, he placed the picture. Finally a set of bright, unrelenting green eyes shot up to meet light blue as Pratt leaned forwards and gripped the edge of the desk with his hands.

“Your job is to make sure shit like this doesn’t happen, Rosier.” It was evident the man was still furious after his outburst only moments ago in the auror office. His colleagues appeared to be morons. Each one of them suddenly sat up and took notice of MacDuff’s actions now each of them were being affected. Now they decided something needed to be done. Now was already too late for Ed’s parents and the thought made him livid. Harcroft had signed up to this case, the hunt for MacDuff for a bit of extra importance in the office. His incompetence burst from his pores in the encounter back there. He was a warrier, a fighter. Harcroft wasn’t an investigator and Raynor had made a damn poor choice putting him in charge of this one.

“Every damn one of us has received this sick fan mail from MacDuff and you have an aging moron who is supposed to be heading this search for him finally realising he needs to get off his incompetent arse and do summit’.”

Edging inches closer, Eddie gripped the desk tighter. “You’re the boss, Rosier. Fix it.”

Rosier was used to being threatened, but he couldn’t deny that it was rather unpleasant to receive such a grisly welcome note. “A look into your future...” stated the small note addressed to his name, delivered along with an old photograph of Gawain Robards – his predecessor who was currently six feet under. It also looked like the corner of the photograph was bitten off…or rather chewed off, giving Cameron a pretty clear idea who the sender was. With a heavy sigh, he took another glance at Robards’ black and white face and then put the photograph to lean against his empty picture frame on his desk.

The note was carefully put into a folder – Rosier planned on checking through the letters the Ministry receives in order to maybe identify the handwriting. He, of course, wasn’t too worried about his own safety, but he knew threats like this should not be taken lightly. He only started working in this office a week or so ago, but he expected things like this…even worse things. He was getting used to all this though, the people, the office (as gloomy and pretentious it was) and the countless case files he’s been through since his appointment.

Before getting up to head to the Auror office, he remembered something and dug out a heavy folder from the tall stack on his desk. As he read some notes, he lit a cigarette, enjoying this moment probably more than he should. It was a very short-lived moment though. An angry-looking, blonde wizard literally stormed into his office so suddenly it made Cameron drop the cigarette on the case files. Before he even had a chance to say a word, Pratt grabbed his desk with such force it seemed like he intended to flip it over in rage.

But what Pratt had to show him was worse than the prospect of his beloved piece of furniture being destroyed. His eyebrows arched as he glared back sternly at his colleague, listening to his outburst of rage. So, everyone received fan mail from MacDuff then? Suddenly, Cameron was glad he didn’t go straight to the Auror office after receiving his – it’s probably chaotic in there at the moment and calming groups of people was just not his forte.

“You’re the boss, Rosier. Fix it.”

“Sit down,” he said gruffly, indicating to an empty chair. He had a lot of respect for Pratt, despite his flaws and the man recently lost his parents due to his job, so it was no wonder he took this so badly, but he wouldn’t allow him to scream at him. “Are you telling me you would like Harcroft’s job? You would like me to put you in charge instead?” He considered the man before him – this was personal for him, he had a wife (or was she an ex-wife – Rosier didn’t know nor care) and children and therefore everything to lose. But he also wanted revenge and that was like a guarantee Pratt will give everything to solve this.

“Cigarette?” he offered them to his colleague sounding a lot less harsh.

Pratt didn’t want to sit down. He wanted this mess sorted, MacDuff dead or off the streets so his family were safe. Sitting down to drink tea and discuss calmly was not going to do that. The rest of their office had received their own shock treatment, they finally realised that the big bad wolf was out there gunning for everyone and they could no longer hide behind Edward Pratt, the scapegoat, the primary target of the wolf’s affections. But it had taken them this long to realise it could have been any one of them. Before, each colleague had no doubt been secretly relieved it was Pratt’s parents that were killed; it was his children that were threatened.

The gruff order could have caused one of two reactions from Eddie. It was possible the direction could have further enraged him or brought him back to the reality of the situation where he had just marched into his boss’s office and angrily and disrespectfully laid down the law. The latter rarely bothered Eddie. He told it how it was, even in these situations. If management needed to hear something, he was damn well going to tell them.

And Pratt didn’t sit down when ordered. He remained where he was, standing his ground. This matter was going to be brushed under the proverbial flying carpet no more.

“I ‘ent smoked in years.” The auror crustily responded as he released the table from his clutch and stood up straighter. “And I do want Harcroft’s job.” The words were calmer as he slowly thought them out, breathing steadier now. He was out of the bubbling cauldron that had been the auror office, more specifically, the gathering around his cubicle, and he was in a calmer atmosphere, not precisely certain what he was suddenly demanding from Rosier.

“If I had it, that bastard’s corpse would have been dragged in here weeks ago.” Probably along with Edward Pratt’s wavering sanity.

Some people would take Pratt’s disobedience differently; some might see his refusal to sit down and be civil as a refusal to give Rosier the upper hand in this discussion. But Rosier was patient – he didn’t solve arguments with screaming at people and losing his temper, he remained cool and rational. His blue eyes however were fixed on the Auror and his glare was not exactly pleasant. At least Pratt let go of his desk and for a second it seemed he relaxed a small bit.

“Suit yourself,” he mumbled when Pratt refused a cigarette and then lit another one for himself, before wiping the ashes from the file where he dropped his previous cigarette. He knew Pratt wasn’t a big fan of the office protocol or common office professional behaviour, but he wanted him to calm down – he will never have a chance to solve this case if he kept on losing his marbles.

 “If I had it, that bastard’s corpse would have been dragged in here weeks ago.”

“Oh really?” He raised his voice a bit now, but the question was borderline sarcastic. Offering Edward Pratt the job that was assigned to a Senior Auror was not the most rational idea ever, especially with Pratt’s personal involvement in this case. However, Rosier was tempted for a second to challenge him with this, but now this temptation vanished. Clearly Pratt could not control himself – Rosier did not want to be responsible for his employee’s recklessness, he did not want to see MacDuff’s corpse being dragged into the Ministry. And he did not want to see the Prophet blaming him for it.

He was still sitting at his desk while his colleague was looking down at him menacingly. “Do you think this is only about you, Pratt? Did it not occur to you that MacDuff wanted exactly this…this reaction from all of us?” That was said in a calm, but steely cold manner. Rosier thought the threat letter he received and decided not to share this  with Pratt right now. Not taking his eyes away from Pratt, he put down the cigarette into the crystal ashtray. “Are you entirely sure you don’t want to take a seat?”

"Where are we going?" He'd asked Jonas as they charged through the Auror-lined rows of cubicles on Level Two.

To-the-point, yet still not forthright, response from Jonas: "Normandy."

"Well,” Adon said as they rounded a corner to head towards the administrative section of Level Two “. . . should I grab my cloak?"

It took only a few brief moments of silence to get the real answer out of his partner. Eddie was, unsurprisingly, on another rage rampage; Adon nodded understandingly as they reached the end of the Auror’s chaotic trail, marked by the stammering welcome witch who attempted to intercept them.

Adon exchanged a glance with Jonas, whose eyes still through the wide-open door. Smiling at the welcome witch reassuringly, he stepped past her anyhow. Jonas was already ahead of him, near the doorway, through which he caught the tail end of the conversation.

Rosier: “Do you think this is only about you, Pratt? Did it not occur to you that MacDuff wanted exactly this…this reaction from all of us?”

Adon sucked in his breath inaudibly at this, giving his cheeks a sharp, hollowed-out appearance.  What Rosier said was accurate and more than supportable.  Eddie was suffering from a sense of tunnel-vision that any sort of line of reasoning would pull him out of.

There was also the vastly apparent truth that, as of yet, Eddie’s family was the only one murdered by MacDuff. And in this way, it was historically more about him than it had been about anyone else. And this was all Eddie was likely to see.

Adon crossed the threshold--dearly hoping Jonas was with him on this--owl still forcibly pinned to his side by his arm just as Rosier fixedly offered Pratt a seat. Pratt likely didn’t want him there, and he wasn’t sure what Rosier’s thoughts on the matter would be, but he had every intention of being there. Just, perhaps, not for the purpose of interfering.

“Sir. Excuse the interruption, but I wanted to be sure that if you received a threat, we notified those it concerned immediately. We’ve already done so for the majority of the Auror’s families and emergency contacts.”  The owl screeched angrily and managed a palpable hit, digging its curved beak into Adon’s bare forearm. “Benzona,” he hissed as he manhandled the owl into submission, now restrained between his two hands. He ignored the sharp pain in his arm as he regarded the man. Perhaps he ought to have introduced himself. But really, there hadn’t been time.

“Adon Eleor,” he input, belatedly, knowing that, at least in the military, those in command always liked to know exactly who they were talking to and why.

They could talk about Pratt’s bleeding emotions once Adon had enough information to take the steps to make certain no one was going to be killed within the next hour.

Edward Pratt didn’t like the tone this new Department head was using with him. The patronising half agreement made his teeth grind together and the following questions, each in turn, set his heart beat racing just that tiny bit quicker with further annoyance.

“The only reaction it has got out of most people in there, sir” The thick northern brogue once more rose in volume as Eddie jabbed a finger in the direction of the door which led to the auror office. “is that they are finally realisin’ this is happenin’ and it affects them!”

The auror before Rosier was well aware that this wasn’t solely about him. But it was personal. Eddie was the only auror to be threatened and have that threat carried out. His family was the only to have been targeted so far. It was about him. It was simply now that others were being dragged into the horrible process. And Eddie was furious they were only now starting to care.

It wasn’t the entrance of Eleor behind Eddie that surprised him. It was the screech coming from the owl. That and the curse from Eleor’s lips made Eddie turn around and momentarily the anger subsided to be replaced with mild bemusement.

The green eyes settled on the owl as pale lips parted. Eddie shook his head in disbelief before looking at his colleague. “It ‘ent the sodding owl we’re trying to apprehend ye idiot.”

Even with the panicking owl, following in Pratt's wake wasn't quite like storming the beaches at Normandy.  Jonas had already been considering how to best diffuse the worst case scenario, which would have been hexes flying and the Northern Auror screaming at the top of his barely-comprehensible lungs. 

Jonas paused just outside the door to Rosier's private sanctum, stepping back to let Adon take the lead.  As his partner slid in front of him, he cast a quick glance around the Department Head's office, his eyes sliding over the panicked secretary and the opulent decorations.  This was his first time back in the room in ten years; since he'd returned to the Ministry, the work on Level Two had been run through Tamis Raynor's headquarters in the Auror Office.  Whether Rosier had inherited the furnishings or chosen them himself during his new tenure, he clearly had a more important view of his role than the diminutive Head Auror.

The worst of the situation seemed to have already played out before they arrived.  Rosier was attempting to reason with his probably-furious visitor in a sensible tone.  Adon, all business despite the struggling owl under his arm, lost no time in imposing himself on the conversation, complete with the expected self-introduction that always sounded like it came out of a bad spy movie.

Jonas stepped inside behind his partner, his eyes already warily flickering to Pratt.  Luckily, the avian seemed to somewhat diffuse the blond Auror's temper -- Pratt's mouth quirked, and his furious expression was replaced with one nearly bordering on amusement.

“It ‘ent the sodding owl we’re trying to apprehend ye idiot.”

"It isn't?"  Jonas blinked, and then turned to look at his partner, his forehead creasing as he regarded both Auror and owl with a look of mild befuddlement.  "Oh, bloody hell.  There goes half a morning of deduction.  Sorry, mate," he told Adon with a straight face.  "Reckon I was wrong when I said I thought it looked a bit like Macduff."

They hadn't discussed the plan in advance, but Jonas was more than willing to follow his partner's lead.  The Israeli had the right idea -- treat this professionally, not like they were hunting down a maddened, rampaging coworker, and take care of business first.  With luck, the direction would give Pratt something to hold on to besides his anger.  They could diffuse the situation, nonchalantly pull the other Auror out, and let Ed cool off as they found a way to tackle the bigger problem.

Adopting the same businesslike expression that Adon wore whenever he was in military mode, Jonas cleared his throat, shifting his attention back to their new Department Head.

"Even if you haven't seen a threat yet, sir we'd appreciate a quick glance over any envelopes that've come in since last night," he informed Rosier, keeping his tone respectful even as he warily watched Pratt out of the corner of his eye.  "I reckon Auror Pratt was already briefing you, but there was a bit of a mail delivery around the office this morning. We're ascertaining the extent of it."

When Pratt raised his voice at him again, Rosier decided to somewhat ignore him this time. He had nothing to say to such behavior, so he just looked at him calmly, a cold fire slowly burning in his icy-blue eyes. Pratt refused to realize this was not his war to fight and that he wasn’t alone in this mess, but Rosier wasn’t his buddy who would listen to this – he was his boss, and he wasn’t exactly used to being treated with such disrespect. But it didn’t matter now; they had more important things on their plate than good manners and office protocol.

So apparently, Aurors didn’t know what knocking is. When Eleor, and shortly after, Trevelyan let themselves in, Rosier finally got up from his seat. Did they both arrive here just to calm their colleague down? Cameron had no other explanation due to the fact that neither of them seemed particularly eager to get to know their new boss throughout all this time, so they couldn’t have exactly been here solely because of him.

After some atrocious Auror banter (one of the worst types of banter Rosier ever witnessed in his entire career) was exchanged and a helpless-looking owl was “apprehended”, Rosier’s gaze flew from Pratt to his Israeli colleague and then to the tall ginger wizard. He knew well enough who they were, but he appreciated Eleor’s formal introduction.

"Even if you haven't seen a threat yet, sir we'd appreciate a quick glance over any envelopes that've come in since last night,"

“I’m not that lucky,” he said grimly, fetching the threatening note he received and the old photograph of Robards. “And you probably don’t want to be contacting my family,” he said to Eleor indifferently while handing him MacDuff’s note. The remaining Rosiers wouldn’t even open a letter from the Ministry, especially if they knew it concerned Cameron.

“Yes, he was briefing me, if you can call that briefing,” he said with a snicker, raising an eyebrow at Pratt for a swift moment. “Speaking of briefing,” he added with a note of seriousness. “I’d like to see reports from you, all three of you. Thorough, complete reports on everything you’re currently working on and hiding so well that even I couldn’t get my hands on it.” Rosier smirked thinking this was the perfect distraction from Pratt’s dramatic behaviour. He wasn’t the center of attention any longer, and Rosier doubted he will be raising his voice again – there was just no point now.

Adon gave a good-natured, commiserating smile at Jonas' jab about the owl which, at any other point would have brought on laughter. As Adon was neither a fan of owls or MacDuff, the comparison of the two was mutually unfavorable.  And, as with most things, would probably turn into an inside joke later.  Pratt, on the other hand, he eyed. The man was angry, and--like a wounded animal--lashing out at anything right now. Best not to bother with him.

Rosier was, apparently, of the same mind and managed to get down to the matter at hand fairly quickly.  Looking at the offered note, Adon glanced at his partner. Being as his hands were full of. . . bird, he tilted his head towards the note. "Jon, you mind?"

Adon compressed his lips in thought as he read the note over his partner's shoulder.  Adon's threat, at least, had provided a who and how to the threat--his mother, with MacDuff's claws, to his mother's face. This was much more vague. It seemed true: Rosier, at least, was not close enough to anyone--any loved one--to be threatened. Adon tucked that bit of information away.  The way MacDuff saw it, the person Rosier cared most about was himself. Whether this was valid or not remained to be seen, though was not far from affirmed when Rosier himself acknowledged that it was not worth alerting his family.

Adon had sympathy, in ways--at the very least, he understood--those criminals who, out of family allegiance followed and in turn perpetuated a life of crime. They had their priorities: family.  What Adon could not quite fathom was someone willing to give that up--to give them up, whether it be for the sake of principle or self-aggrandizement. But then, that remained to be seen. And deserved some looking into.

Family man or not, Rosier didn't seem to be much of a people person.  Rosier made a careless jab at Pratt, robbing the man of any dignity he could have regained. Adon was not snickering back. He jutted his jaw out and inhaled. Exhaled. The man had unrestricted access to the work papers and case files.  If he had wanted a formalized memo of proceeding, he ought to have asked for it at a more convenient time.

But the snickering at Pratt--who had perhaps responded poorly, but had responded poorly to a very real threat was not going to resolve the issue any. Neither was ignoring it.

"Yes, sir--you can be assured that will be my priority." He paused. "Once the 21[1] recipients of the threats have been informed, and precautions have been taken to safeguard the threatened individuals. Provided leadership does not require me for locating MacDuff."  Another pause, with locked, determined eye contact. "Sir."

1.	Adon is assuming every Auror, including NPCs, received threats. This is, to my rough estimation, how many Aurors +Rosier there are.

Had this been an entirely different situation Eddie n doubt would have found the Israeli auror wrestling the screeching owl and the ginger wizard’s comments quite humorous. As it was, these new elements of the already trying situation only served to prove Eddie’s point that the whole thing didn’t seem to be taken seriously. The mere fact that Ed hadn’t cracked a smile or made jokes about any of this were testament to the seriousness of the matter. Edward Pratt always cracked jokes, he always tried to lighten the mood to distract from the dark reality of most situations.

This time he stared in dismay at Trevelyan having severely misplaced one of his banterous, joking comments.  Yet the letter for Rosier was handed to Ed’s colleagues and the blond auror stood up straighter, calmer now as he thrust his hands into the pockets of his black jeans.

It wouldn’t have been true to say that Rosier’s comment slipped off Ed like oil off a dinosaur but he did ignore the manner in which the departmental head spoke about him. Ed hadn’t wanted to brief the quill pusher. He’d wanted the new boss to sit up and take notice of what he had just taken on. He wanted this mess sorted before anyone else lost their lives from it, including every other person targeted as well as his own family.

“Auror Trevelyan’s already duplicated most of the files we’ve been working on for that very reason[1].” Pratt commented dryly as green eyes flashed from Rosier to the ginger haired man beside Eleor. The paperwork aspect didn’t bother him right now. Ed was more up to date than he ever had been with all the work he’d been doing. And he would show Rosier all of his official work. But his plans with the other two on the MacDuff case were certainly not about to be shared and Pratt would make sure Trevelyan and Eleor were also aware of this fact.

1.	Is cornwall Worse Than Yorkshire?

Rosier had turned over another set of mail.  Jonas sighed, and then took both note and photograph gingerly by the edges, tilting them so that Adon and his owl could see as well.  He recognized Robards, even ten years removed; aside from clearly growing more worn, the man hadn't changed much over the decade.  A look into your future.  Ominous but generic.  Apparently Macduff hadn't had time to collect a personal dossier on their new superior.

“Speaking of briefing..."

Jonas's head jerked up, a clear look of surprise crossing his face as the Department Head spoke.  It took him a moment to get his expression under control, schooling it back to something more unreadable.  Half the office was in a panic, they were overworked to the point of exhaustion, and Rosier wanted reports?  If this was supposed to be some damned bloody clever way of getting them under his thumb or giving their new boss a way to establish his authority, he'd be damned if he played along.

Adon snapped off a response in brisk military fashion, and even Pratt seemed to have calmed down.  "Auror Trevelyan’s already duplicated most of the files we’ve been working on for that very reason."

"Yeah, and they've all been turned in to Head Auror Raynor," Jonas added, his eyes locked on Rosier.  "Who I reckon'd be happy to share any of it with you that you want to see, boss."  Without a doubt, knowing Tamis, she probably wouldn't, not if this was how the cards were being played.  For Rosier to apply such a heavy hand, he had to be feeling in the dark already.

Adon, he knew, would follow direct orders even if he disagreed with them.  Pratt probably didn't care -- between Malone and the trainees, he had half the bloody office ready to jump at his every whim.  But Jonas was not prepared to let it go.  The political games, the twisting priorities, trying to maneuver everyone under one person's thumb -- that was part of a Ministry he remembered too well.

"Sorry, I think I must've misjudged the priorities for the morning," he put in pointedly, standing his ground.  "Did you want us to get on with trying to find the bastard who's already murdered two people and landed three more in the hospital so that we can keep your office from bloody well panicking, or would you prefer that we reschedule our day so that we can all have a proper sit and a chat about paperwork, sir?"

Their reaction was something similar to what he expected. These guys seemed to be the “Hex first, ask questions later” folk – at least it was how it seemed right now. Impulsive, reckless and emotional.  Heaps of threatening letters were sent in this morning, but this was a problem they had from before – this wasn’t new. And on this he agreed with Pratt – now it seemed like they’ve woken up, now when it felt real they took such action. It wouldn’t do. The worst they could do right now was to dive into this headfirst, angry and bitter. Rosier was a thorough person; he didn’t dismiss paperwork like so many did and priority or not, it was something that will help them  resolve this problem.

"Once the 21recipients of the threats have been informed, and precautions have been taken to safeguard the threatened individuals. Provided leadership does not require me for locating MacDuff."

He said nothing. Eleor knew well enough it wasn’t his job to personally inform every employee and their family members of this. There was other, lower, personnel who handled this; Eleor could inform his family all the wanted, but others were not of his concern. Aurors were too important to be dealing with such things.

“Auror Trevelyan’s already duplicated most of the files we’ve been working on for that very reason”

“Good,” said Rosier simply. At least Pratt seemed like he cooled down and started being of some use. He would offer him to leave and take care of his family, but he knew the Yorkshire wizard would refuse it. He would probably see it as Rosier's excuse to distance him from the MacDuff case.

Rosier’s eyes flashed dangerously for a brief moment when Trevelyan mentioned Raynor. He knew perfectly well she tried very hard to keep him in the dark, but Rosier had his ways. He also knew he will never, ever be on such good terms and personally involved with these Aurors, but he didn’t have a desire  or an intention anyway.  He was tempted to dryly reply to the ginger Auror with a rather childish “I kind of doubt that, Trevelyan” when he said Tamis will be happy to share the files with him. It was not the time nor place for bickering, though.

"Did you want us to get on with trying to find the bastard who's already murdered two people and landed three more in the hospital so that we can keep your office from bloody well panicking, or would you prefer that we reschedule our day so that we can all have a proper sit and a chat about paperwork, sir?"

Here it goes. With a sigh, Rosier returned behind his blackwood desk and gave all three of them another stern look, before fixing his eyes on Trevelyan. “I want you to cooperate,” he said calmly and sincerely. “I want you to realize I am not the enemy – I want the same as you do.” But how many times a mission failed when a dozen of angry wizards tried to avenge someone and ended up ruining everything.

“I asked for paperwork because I don’t want to run blindly into this. Do you think it’s fun for me when a member of my staff dies? I asked for it from you because I want us to trust each other. I am sure you wouldn’t feel comfortable if I let myself in your desk and dug through your personal space.” Priorities or not, it was important they grasp this. It wasn’t Rosier’s fault these men failed to meet with him prior to a Department crisis. And now they had it.

“As for Macduff himself, he’s not going anywhere,” he added coldly. “I want you to asses all the evidence, to interrogate as many people…before jumping into this. Otherwise you’re doing what he wants. Since when does Level Two respond to terrorists?”

Jonas stared back at the new Department Head as if he were seeing him for the first time.  He was incredulous, but this wasn't the same furious anger that sometimes came when he lost his temper. 

"Since when do we not respond to terrorists?" he demanded disbelievingly.  "Macduff murdered people.  Responding's what we do."

The phrases were bitingly familiar.  'We can't afford to jump into this.'  'All we'll do is frighten everyone.'  When he'd first signed on with the Ministry as a trainee, they'd been used to dismiss the ridiculous stories coming out of Hogwarts, whispers of You-Know-Who's return and hints of the coming war.   At first, it had been easy to accept them, simple to believe that by taking their time and being thorough, they were protecting the rest of their magical society from a panic.

But they hadn't been.  Evidence had been ignored; nothing had been done.  And the same voices that had urged restraint and patience kept on calling for the same as You-Know-Who revealed himself at the Ministry, launched a war on the magical world, as Scrimgeour vanished and governmental policy changed overnight, until suddenly he was being asked to keep calm and carry on as he reported to the fledgling Muggle-Born Registration Committee down on Leven Ten.

Like hell he was going down that path again.

That was the bloody problem: either everything was done in a panicked rush, like Archer bursting into the burning house to save Tamis, or so slowly that their enemies were running circles around them.  Jonas was furiously tired of it.  Not responding or responding too quickly -- they were two sides of the same coin.  Someone had to take action.

"If you want us to trust each other, maybe you should trust that we know how to do our goddamned jobs without a lecture, Rosier," he said icily, adding a sharp edge to each word.  "And if you updated yourself on the case files that you do have, you'd know that jumping into things too quickly isn't the problem that this bloody office has right now. 

"You've got kids in red robes panicking back there," he added, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.  "You might not give a damn about your family, but they sure as hell do.  You want to sit here and smoke while the rest of us scramble to keep them together and track down Macduff at the same time, that's your own decision, but I'm not going to spend the afternoon slogging through paperwork when I ought to be doing me job."

Adon evaluated the man sharply.  "You do know Auror Trevelyan and I are assigned to the Runespoor Case--not MacDuffs don't you, sir?" Why it was suddenly imperative that he get the files he already had access to--that Adon had maintained with a pedantic hand, and that the Ministry had been sitting on for well over 10 years was beyond him.

And then Jonas snapped. To say it had not occurred to Adon was an understatement.  Talking to a former Israeli Defense Force military officer about not responding to terrorists was as foolish as talking to Harry Potter about letting horcruxes lie low.  No. Way. In. Hell.

Jonas seemed to have more than enough to say on the matter--and spoke it with more vehemence than Adon would have. But he stood firmly by Trevelyan, stonily. Even as the owl began to flap nervously and shriek angrily at the raised voices.  It wanted out of there about as much as Adon did. Adon held the bird fast with a bit more force than was necessary. If Adon had to stand through it, than Dugan's co-conspiring henchbird--for all its shrieking and crying--was not getting out of it, either.

"Sir," Adon said, voice--hushed and low--contrasting with Jonas' shrill denunciations.  Jonas had been near to fuming--as angry as Adon had seen him, and he'd seem him this angry on one other occasion. Over the same issue, on January 5th.
 
He exhaled, considering, voice calm. "I understand you are new to commanding men. I also understand you are my commander. But respectfully, I offer a bit I've learned from experience.  You get out from behind your desk. You appear to your men. And you give your men specific, delegated tasks to perform. You give them procedures to accomplish those tasks. And you give them timelines in which they need to be done."
 
He jostled the owl under his arm.  "Men do not panic--they do not respond emotionally--when they are acting systematically and swiftly with a goal. Your job is to judgmentally determine the best tasks, and the best procedures to accomplish the tasks."
 
He looked out the door, towards the sounds of the Auror Headquarters. "I need hardly reiterate that your men feel like they are under fire. And if you don't give them a stone wall to stand behind--procedures, duties, specificity--they will balk and flee. And it won't have been their fault. You need to acknowledge and address the threat of terrorism now with direct, on-task commands. Quickly, before it becomes a situation, and terrorist threats become terrorist attacks. That is how you respond to terrorists." Really, there was nothing further to be said.  Adon didn't have questions for him, he didn't need an individual response. The response he wanted would be the one delivered to all Aurors on Level 2.
 
Adon turned, cast a glance at Jonas, and walked to the doorframe. He paused. "It's no coincidence, you know: the most unresponsive people are and always will be deadmen." The bird's wings flapped and Adon, wanting to be rid of the thing, crossed by the welcome witch's desk and back to Auror Headquarters.

If Eddie hadn’t have remained as angry with the situation and the way it was being dealt with, he would have remarked upon the redness of Trevelyan’s face blending with the obnoxious shade of his hair. He would have clearly told Trevelyan that when he was angry, his Cornish accent became entirely undecipherable and quite a headache to be honest.

As it was, Rosier’s comments of MacDuff going nowhere further infuriated the wizard but he held back, this time watching with heavy breathing Trevelyan unleashing his own opinions on the new quill pushing boss sat cosily behind his oversized over expensive desk. Ed imagined it was always easier to hide when behind a desk that large and give orders about procedure. Those on top rarely moved from procedure and this was what was needed now. Giving this parchment loving moron hours from their afternoon to prepare detailed reports for his eyes would be a complete waste of auror time. Ed had been quite happy to accept the order, leave the office and disregard it completely. He had very quickly realised this new superior wasn’t going to be one of immediate action. He was the dithering kind that was happy to sit behind his desk and watch the mess unfold around him, untouched and protected by the golden badge upon his sanctuary door.

Adon spoke more clearly. He, quite necessarily, outlined what exactly Rosier should be doing. Ed always found Eleor a strange one. He was a soldier and approached situations as such. He did it clearly and with military expertise. While most of the time Ed didn’t think that was the manner to go about the majority of situations and thought Adon a bit strange, this time he agreed.

As Eleor exited the room and passed by the welcome witch outside the office, Eddie glanced back, watching him before he calmly looked back at Rosier.

“We know by signin’ up to this job we are putting our lives in danger. Every auror accepts that and find themselves facing death at least several times in their career. We have signed up to that, we have made that decision and we will follow orders that will put our lives in danger.” Ed glanced briefly at Jonas before his bright eyes settled unrelentingly upon their boss. “But it’s not just our lives in peril right now. And our family members never signed up to the threat. My children never agreed to this risk so that their dad could carry on his job. I would follow your orders if it were just my life in danger. But it isn’t and I am not going to sit around fillin' out paperwork waitin' to see if MacDuff is ‘goin' anywhere’ after he’s already killed my parents and is still making threats on my children.”

“I would do anythin' for my family. I would kill you right now, boss, if it meant my children would be safe. Fillin' out a few forms to hand to the quill pushin' ex-lawyer boss so he can feel involved isn’t goin' to protect them and terminate the threat to them.”