3 June 2009
3:30 pm
The Muggle Affairs Office, Ministry of Magic

Niobe didn't know where this guy's office was, this brand new Muggle Affairs Office.  Luckily, they'd agreed to meet atrium-side of things so she wouldn't have to navigate the lifts.  A flock of memos flew over her head as she got through the wand-check queue and the line of people opened up into the main atrium.  She stood next to the Fountain of Magical Bretheren and flipped through her notes.

...Dreogan Eleor, schooled in Jerusalem and former International Cooperation Department fellow ...  Annwyl had supported the formation and he'd had some key Wizengamot support as well.  Murray-Harker and Greyfriar for one ... word on the street was his brother an Auror was involved with a muggle called Schlagenweit, although that was Skeeter-fodder, far as Niobe was concerned... But what was relevant was daddy Eleor... goodness that was some familial baggage, that...

She looked up, scanning the comers and goers for that tell-tale gait and gaze of a person looking for someone.  How they looked up, and scanned faces rather than watching the ground in front of them, or navigated a path.  How their pace was slower, less direct.  She hadn't met him before and he'd probably have the advantage over her - her own face was in the Daily Prophet many times over, alongside some of her opinion pieces. 

Although she tried not to be biased, Niobe had already decided this was a dull fluff assignment akin to something like a crup who'd learned to water ski.  But she'd also decided that there was challenge to be found in finding something noteworthy to focus on.  In her mind, she didn't know what additional 'affairs' muggles needed from the Ministry.  But that was why she was interviewing Mr Eleor.

"Mr. Eleor?" she asked.  A wizard caught her eye, with the same searching gaze she had.

Dreogan waited at the atrium; despite now being his very own head of an office, there was nothing like the vaulted ceilings, the black, glossy stone, and the hustle and bustle to make even the most important figure feel quite small--quite insignificant.

Well, he supposed the benevolent, imperial wizard of the Fountain of Magical Brethren never felt that way. He glanced upwards at its height from his lowly position, a troubled expression on his face.  Muggles--of course--did not feature anywhere under the protective arm of this wizard.  This was, perhaps, a blessing in disguise.  Dreogan was not certain how he felt about the Big Brotherly stance.

Recollecting himself--and the purpose for his scheduled loitering--Dreogan began to scan the group of visitors entering  the queue at the wand check.  He caught sight of a dread-locked figure and honed in, approaching.  She seemed--at least tentatively--to have identified him, too.

"Miss Thursby!" Dreogan said, a smile spreading on his face as soon as he was within arm's length.  "Dreogan Eleor," He reached out to clasp her hand warmly, reaffirming his first name--a subtle modification. "I am so pleased you could make it today. The office is on Level Five," he said, gesturing towards the lifts.  "I thought we could do the interview there. You could meet with any of the other staff, if you had any remaining questions."

He supposed she came with questions ready. Dreogan had spent a significant portion of today creating cue-cards with answers to questions he anticipated.  He hoped she and he were on the same page as far as what an interesting and constructive conversation might be.

Leading her towards the lifts, he began to chat, "I suppose you make the Ministry rounds fairly recently. Though it seems your recent articles have mostly featured Level Two members--Have you been to Level Five?"

"Level Five," the lift operator echoed as the doors opened.

Smiling widely, Dreogan once more shepherded the reporter out, searching her face attentively for an answer--as well as for some reading on her personality.  He had heard reporters could be a bit pushy, and to be prepared.

Niobe's professional smile colored more brightly when she had a moment to lay eyes on the gent.  She didn't know exactly what she expected but she immediately struck him as attractive.  Later on she'd wonder why - she wasn't normally the type who looked at men in that way, didn't see them first as potential mates.  She saw them first as, well, human beings in whatever role they were in relation to hers.  Interviewee, boss, fellow shopper, whatever.  But yes, her first impression of Dreogan Eleor was 'her type'.  Not an obvious stunner, but he looked... smart.  Foreign.  Interesting.  If the interview was a total bore, at least he would be interesting conversation, or so his appearance let on.

She in turn offered her own first name, after he addressed her as Miss.  She was in her 30s - it had been awhile since anyone younger than 80 had called her a 'Miss'.  But whatever - formalities were important, if only just to set a baseline to be discarded upon request.  As casual as she was, Niobe knew what they were for and never flippantly dismissed them. 

"Sounds brilliant," she said to his suggestion about venue and roster.  Having said more than a few words now, her Irish accent would be noticeable. "Lead on!"

Dreogan seemed excited and Niobe was able to easily chat and smile with him as they walked.  For her, this was her day-to-day and she was comfortable in her role of reporter.  But perhaps for Dreogan, this was a new and exciting event, being interviews.

"It's true - I've been able to nudge my way into Auror business as much as possible.  Not at all easy.  Have to say it's nice to interview someone who's happy to talk to me," she said quite genuinely as she followed him out the lift onto Level Five.

Level Five had a distinctly different feel than either the Atrium or Level Two.  Wizards and witches dressed in all kinds of international garb, and speaking in a variety of languages filled the halls and offices. 

"But the last time I was on this floor was - my gods - when someone tried to kill that Kabir fellow? Last October or November.  Do you remember that?"

Niobe's exuberance was reassuring, if not refreshing--certainly her appearance was a far cry from the pinstripe-robes sort he associated with, daily.  Her hair, that energy for Truth--it seemed to remind him of his days as a youth.  He could not afford to be as liberal now as he was then, all socialism and principle and ideals.  A few years away from academia and in the real-legislating Ministerial world had taught him that to be accepted, one needed to be safe.  Mainstream.  Principled, yes, but innocuous.  Which was what he would project today.

She didn't seem the muck-raking sort, though the Prophet did have a marked Ministry-wary bent, that was cause enough for precise, conscious wordsmithing of any response, if he was to go on record.  To not get carried away in enthusiasm and progressive ideas. A diplomat's role was to never say anything that could be used against you, your government, or your cause.  And a journalist's role was to use anything that was said to shape a point.  Nothing was without agenda.

As they began to weave through the labrynthine setup of cubicles that were broken up by bright flashes of robes, sarongs, turbans, and shemaghs, he nodded in sympathy to her. "No, I don't imagine it would be very easy." He glanced sidelong at her with a smile. "Aurors--a result of what they do--are rather hesitant of disclosure. Identities, evidence of ongoing investigations--those can hinder progress or jeopardize individuals' safety.  But the public does need to stay informed. It's a difficult balance that I haven't fully made sense of, myself.  I'm sure it is something that colors your reporting decisions daily. It would be a difficult call to make."

Dreogan thought of the articles which had impacted him personally.  The Schlagenweit coveage by sensationalist Skeeter.  Mention of by name of his fiancee, Akiva Katz--and proposed reasons for her abduction; mention by name of Adon in a social-snippet, expostulating that he and Trina--that singer, were "involved." And, March 15th's debacle, which betrayed his involvement in a dangerous, on-going investigation.  The mention of Mulogo to the press, to set the assassin on him, instead of himself, who had actually been the involved party.  And then, yes, there was...

"The Heathrow Incident?"Dreogan was reminded--quite quickly--of just how unhappy Level Two could get about press coverage.   He shook his head, slightly amused as he recalled Adon's reddened face, fist clenching the Prophet angrily--displaying the article condemningly as though Dreogan had been responsible, or at the very least, involved.  Even if Niobe had not done her research, she must have known of his relation to that article; there was not an overabundance of Eleors in England.  "Oh, yes. I remember that very well.  Your coverage of that was far more favorable than Al-Jazeera's..."  He frowned, wondering how much of an effort she made to keep up with the Muggle side of things.  "It's an Arab Muggle publication.  That incident was quite notable for us on Level Five. As prominent as it was, it got some coverage on many sides. On my end, that took quite a bit of navigation--Jewish-Islam, Muggle-Magic, East-West--you name it, and all the heated elements were present."  The only thing that seemed to compare, in fact, as the buzz that stemmed from the resultant report of Groust's--on the Egypt tomb raiding.  It had taken a lot of international goodwill to convince Egypt that England was not returning to its pillaging ways of the late 19th, early 20th centuries.

Dreogan waved to Rema, his former assistant of Middle East relations, as he passed and entered into his new office.  Just as small, unfortunately, as his former one, though it had not yet had the chance to be too cluttered with paperwork and artifacts of past international affairs. He pulled two chairs in front of his desk closer together, gesturing to one as he settled in the other himself.

He gave a satisfied sigh as he settled in. "But I'm sure you know--the headaches are what make these situations interesting.  Though, I think I prefer things to stay a bit more quiet... Not that I hope to put you out of a job, but we at M.A.O." he said, smiling teasingly, "hope to keep Muggle-Magical clashes to a minimum.  Though your recent articles have certainly touched on some interesting overlaps, there, that we have certainly noticed, as well.  The Iceland case; the Muggleborn terrorism from last August; even Rita Skeeter's articles on Sasha Schlagenweit have pointed to some of the conflict present in Muggleborn culture--and I really do think it's a subset of Magical culture on the whole--" he added as an afterthought. 


"Ah, but." He said, grinning as he looked at her expectantly for a pad of paper, a quill, or anything to be produced.  "I may be getting ahead of myself. I suspect you have some order in which you would like these things to be discussed. First things first--tea?" With open palms, he gestured towards a small table in the corner, upon which was set up a haphazard hot-beverage station: creamer, teapot, coffee pot, paper serviettes, upsidedown cups...

He liked to talk.  Again, Niobe had to marvel at how much more pleasant this assignment was turning out to be.  The bloke was just chatting merrily onward about everything under the sun as she walked along with him.   For as nosy as she was - as nosy as she needed to be and how loud-mouthed she might be in her personal life - she had learned long ago how important it was to listen in this job.  Not only did it help with the interviewer/interviewee micro-relationship, but it helped keep her opinions where they belonged - out of the article and at the pub.

For as much as Niobe had her thumb on the pulse of the Wizarding World's comings and goings this last decade or two, Dreogan seemed just as informed if not moreso.  After all, he was inside and coming from this center of international, well, cooperation.  As he went on, she began to fantasize about what all else she could get out of him - he was a fountain of information. 

She didn't even notice they'd arrived at their destination - it was a very modestly marked office with no real fanfare.  She should have expected as much for a tiny new addition to the major machine of the Ministry.  It's office space would probably grow with public support for its services.

"Tea'd be lovely," she said with a chuckle, feeling like it was the first time she could slip a word in sideways.  He was so enthusiastic, it was kind of adorable.  Not in that... condescending way.  But, you know, pleasantly unexpected. 

As she gave him a moment to make good on his beverage offer, she began to undress her tools of the trade.  She had two pads of parchment - one was the one she had in the Atrium which had her hand-written notes.  It had the details of her assignments and also the points she expected to cover.  The second pad was the milieu of her  Verbatis Quill.  She laid these things out in her lap, and then crossed one leg over the other.  She was very clear not to touch them yet.

"It's not so structured as that," she said as she watched him set up the tea.  "I've got some points Cuffe suggested I cover and we'll get to those.  But, yea - once we get on the record it'd probably be good to just start where you're comfortable."

My, she was being charitable.  She'd laugh at herself later for being so ... gentle with Dreogan.  He was just so damned endearing.  She looked at him and raised her eyebrows.

"Ready?  Quill to paper and we're off..."  She set the Verbatis Quill's sharp tip to the parchment and when she let go, it stood up on its own, quivvering, ready to record the absolute first utterance it heard.

Niobe provided it.  "Why don't you start with that last thought-" (The quill was off...) "About muggleborns and how did you say it? A subset of our culture?"

OOC: So sorry! Though I remembered writing a response to this post, I forgot that the draft got lost! Oopsie.

Cuffe must have been her supervisor.  He had a hard time believing a person who already struck him as so independent-minded (goodness, was he basing it off of appearances alone, or was this some untouched aspect of Sight?) would be wholly governed by a supervisory influence. 

He shifted in his seat slightly, pulling a wand from his pocket and summoning the teapot.  Then the cups--and saucers... and creamer... Really, it might have been easier to just levitate the entire table over, save for the spilled mess that would have created.  It would have been easier still to get up himself and serve the tea, but he did have something to prove here...

With the skepticism of his cause, it was important that, however Muggle-friendly he'd become ("Mugglefied" and "Muggle-ized" had both been applied to him in recent coverage), he make it very clear he was a wizard--a contributor to a society he viewed with pride.  He was not ashamed of the Magical World. There would be no ripping down of walls; that had been his father's business.  His was to expand.  To bring more in beneath its roof.  To fortify the walls.

Niobe explained the procedure; Dreogan inclined his head gratefully for the concession, and the quill seemed to shake with anticipation and excitement--like a dog at before a wide open field, just waiting to be let off the leash and let loose. Dreogan poured the two cups, handing hers over to her.

He watched it etch words on parchment a moment, considering his words.  He hadn't planned on starting there--it was not the focus he had decided would be a good launching point, but he could bring it around well enough.

"Thank you," he acknowledged with a gracious smile, rubbing the back of his neck and clearing his throat--checking for a moment, to see if the quill ventured any phonetic inscription of the throaty rumble.  "I think it's a very well-accepted fact, in the Magical world, that Magic is not just an ability, but a way of life.  And it is all-encompassing. Our own system of government, our own money, our own--really, in a way, language.  It's one of the most striking and beautiful things about our culture--its unity. But also its diversity.  Within the Magical world, there are those who have differing abilities--and differing ranges--in terms of magic-use. Elves and goblins have their own form of magic; wizards and witches theirs, and so on.  And then there are the squibs, who may not have the ability to cast magic, but have a knowledge of it--and familiarity.  Many of them are as engrained in the Magical world as the next witch or wizard.  They are not clearly, a part of the Muggle world.

And then there are the people who were not born into the Magical world. Who need to, often within the space of a couple of days, learn about the new system, the new culture, this new money and language, and ability--all before they reach Hogwarts, and are expected to improve upon sometimes nascent ability.  Often times, we expect there to be a sort of--of immigration.  They leave one world to fully inhabit the next. But like any immigrant, Muggleborns can never truly be separated from their roots--nor should they need to be. Their parents, their family, many of their friends, and their former education and skills all reside there.  They bring this way of thinking to the Magical world--consider alternatives to traditionalist ideals, and enrich Magical ideals and potential through expanding possibilities.  What M.A.O. strives for--in part--is to keep the possibility of a 'dual citizenship' possible--while yet upholding the Statute of Secrecy."

He gave a bit of a smile.  "Though it may not sound like it... 'Muggle Affairs Office' was kept intentionally vague, as a term, because titles like 'Statute Enforcement Office,' seemed to conflict with already existing efforts of the Ministry and were perhaps too much emphasis on enforcing.  We are not here to take up the work of any other branch of the Ministry--we're rather hoping to facilitate their efforts with Muggle relations in mind. 

For instance, I'd argue that 'dual citizenship' would facilitate the ability to uphold the Statute--but perhaps in a more conscious effort and in a different mode than has been done in the past. Understanding what Muggles need--the need to stay in touch with children in the Magical world, to stay informed, to be kept safe from Wizards and Witches who would otherwise victimize them for their innocence and ignorance--and what we, as Magical folk need to better facilitate our efforts--tracing these witches and wizards' contact with Muggles for law enforcement and diplomatic purposes, as just one example--is our work. And is made possible by the very diverse staff M.A.O. constitutes.  We have Muggleborns, we have members from the Ministry, members from the Muggle community--in direct relation to wizards and witches in our community, and with full access to information--all of them help provide us a fuller picture of the very diverse, very complex intersection between Muggle and Magical worlds--the space which many Muggleborns--and, I might add, many culturally minded Muggles and Wizards--inhabit.

He took a deep breath, considering.  Took a sip of tea to buy some time to formulate the words.  "Try as we might to have kept these worlds separate in the past, I think it is becoming increasingly apparent that, for better or for worse, this space--this cross-over--is being used; breached; confounded; complicated.  Because we have created a culture which is built upon a rigid--and sometimes quite literal--brick wall to separate, I think that many have feared any conflation between Us and Them as a shattering of the old paradigm.  It doesn't need to be that way.  The ideals we uphold, and the way of life--even the Statute itself--can be upheld under a more fluid system, in which we are more aware and conscious of Muggles. Under which we encourage dual citizenship--and benefit from it."

He gave a warm smile.  "I hope that answers the question; I suspect it has raised a few others?"

Thank Merlin for that quill! Dreogan Eleor began speaking and he didn't let up for some minutes.  Niobe listened.  Her four-fingered left hand lightly steadied the note pad on her thigh.  Her right hand sipped gratefully from the tea.  She was truly grateful for the quill, because it gave her the time to watch Dreogan as he spoke, and didn't have to fear missing a thing.  She half-wondered how muggle reporters achieved this...(She imagined a mechanical arm set up with a pencil.  Or, strike that, an impossibly tiny white box with one button on it.)

As he spoke it was very clear he was an academic, or at least compared to Niobe and most of the people she had chance to speak with.  Even Ministry folks tended to speak more plainly.  He spoke in complicated sentences, she noted, and in turns of phrase that were obviously familiar to him.  It was a little thing to notice, but Niobe was in the habit.  It helped to take note of things like that, get a little better picture of the sort she was talking too.  She liked things like that, noting how people talked.  Accents, patterns, posture.  All of it helped allude to a wholer picture.

She tried to remain neutrally attentive, nodding.  Smiling when he did.  Listening in and paying attention to the complex ideas he was offering, and take them in with an unbiased ear.  But it wasn't so easy.  He was saying some things that she just knew were raise some hackles - hell, they were raising their own.  She agreed for equal treatment of muggleborns as much as the next, but 'dual citizenship'?  That was a rather stunning way to put it.

Niobe lifted her hand every once in awhile to make a tick on where the Verbatis quill was writing, a mark so she could be sure to read that bit again.  That bit about 'leaving one world to fully inhabit the next'.  And his first mention of 'dual citizenship', and 'a more fluid system'.   They were never things she expected to hear in the halls of the Ministry of Magic. 

She sat up a little when he finished himself off, and smiled at him.  She didn't move for her Verbatis notes - those would just continue on, but she did consult her other notes, the ones where she'd stored up some talking points. 

"This is all perfect, Dreogan," she said lightly as her eyes scanned her agenda.  "Just what I was looking for."

She set her notes down, again glad to have her hands and eyes free.  She looked at him with what was just a slightly harder expression.  Just a touch more firm or stony than she'd already been. 

"What kind of criticism are you expecting?  You can't think this will be an easy mission to follow through with.  There's been times before when the Statue was ...wobbled.  How does all this differ?"