Abernathy's Agonies

Abernathy knows how most of MACUSA sees him: a greasy little bootlicker, the estranged son of an Italian-American mob boss, a short little man who tries to rise above his station-but when Tina Goldstien ends up under his supervision, he really does have her best interests at heart. Character study where Abernathy is a good friend.

1926

Mitchell Abernathy isn't happy to have Porpentina Esther Goldstien demoted from her station as auror and placed in the Wand Permit Office, under his supervision. It's wrong. It's not because he doesn't like her. Quite the opposite, in fact—not in an amorous way, of course, oh no, he has dreadful daydreams about kissing her sister, Queenie—it's more that he has admired Tina Goldstien for years. Admired her as a superior coworker and skilled auror.

Lady Aurors have to be twice as stern as the men. Gals don't get to relax in the break room and make jokes and laugh and grin and elbow each other suggestively. Ladies are made of tougher things, especially Goldstien.

Oh, sure, he thought she was pretty when he first saw her: a sweet-cheeked, jew-haired little nobody from Upstate with masculine clothes that went out of style before she was even old enough to go to Ilvermorny. She looked like she would be chewed up and spat out like a wad of tobacco in a few days. It was typical for senior employees to wager on which kids fresh out of the International Auror Academy would snap within the first week.

Goldstien snaps, all right. She snaps into place.

For all of her round cheeks and young eyes and frizzy hair, Goldstien is five times fiercer than she looks. She's top of her class (the highest IAA scores in over a decade, actually), quick on her feet, and with an eye as sharp as a needle. Abernathy isn't sure where she gets her good ear for gossip, as he is pretty sure she never participates, but she's also good at butting her way into conversation she's not welcome in and that gets her into trouble sometimes. She's got a good gut instinct and while Abernathy thinks she'd look better in more feminine clothes, there's no denying that it pays to cut an intimidating, square-shouldered figure when you're an auror.

Abernathy is one of her underlings despite how many people he supervises. Once in a while he gets stuck on coffee duty and brings her a hot drink to her office and they share a two-minute chat. When the typists have gotten their documents all written and sorted, it's not uncommon for him to be stuck with delivery boy duty. So, they know things about one another.

Goldstien knows that Abernathy was born to a no-maj mobster family called the Genovese's and that, after his letter to Ilvermorny came, he was whisked away by the MACUSA's Underage Witch and Wizard Integration Act and never had contact with his family again. After he graduated Ilvermorny, he hunted them down, but his parents and siblings memories had been Obliviated when he had been taken, thus they no longer remembered him. It was for the best, he thinks, though he misses them; many of his childhood memories are etched with fear. It was a scary place to grow up, shielded from the tip of a gun by a bruised and battered mother, but there's a hole in his heart where a family should be.

An orphan herself, Goldstien understands his ache.

Goldstien knows that, because Abernathy was born to non-magical parents, he has to work double in order to get half as far as anyone who has magical heritage (though, not as hard as Goldstein herself does). People like Abernathy get called "Clotties" on account of how their blood clots when they're hurt. Apparently purebloods have a hemophilia problem. He learns the word "mudblood" out of the mouth of some snotty little upstart from Ireland on an exchange program during his sixth year in Ilvermorny and even years later he can't decide which slur is worse. They both sting worse than wasps.

Abernathy knows that Goldstein takes ladies as her lovers—not all of the time, but usually. It's not all that surprising. Abernathy knows that she uses straightening serum on her hair to seem more professional (professional being another term for "avoiding anti-Semitic harassment)—it's the one thing that she does that makes her seem somewhat like a woman when everything else about her is so tomboyish. Abernathy knows that her distant cousin (distant in blood, close in heart) in the Lower East End is the best kosher chef in the state. Goldstien would argue that it's the best food in the state, period, but Abernathy is a sucker for pizza and Lombardi's just can't be beat when it's been making pies since 1905. It really is too bad that eating dairy and meat together isn't kosher—she's really missing out on Lombardi's pepperoni calzones.

Abernathy knows that she gets shit for being of German descent in the aftermath of the Great War, and she knows that he enlisted but was never called on to fight and that he's still sore about it 8 years later. They both like Coca-Cola and are fans of the New York Yankees. He is fine with his job (what's to dislike, really?), but he wishes he were more than Head Paper Pusher. Goldstien is working her dream job and it's difficult not to be envious of that, even if she's earned it.

It's when she chases a hunch about some no-maj fanatic that things fall apart for her.

Abernathy notices. As Head Paper Pusher, he notices when she starts digging into mo-maj birth certificates in search of something. Eventually she finds documentation of an 11 year old being dumped on the doorstep of a Puritan church in 1898, but it's a dead end. No-maj Mary Lou Barebone, founder of the Second Salemer's, has no birth certificate and was named by the church that raised her. Her origin is a mystery. Goldstien suspects her of something, but Abernathy can't figure out what or why it would have anything to warrant being investigated by an auror. That stuff should be left to the police.

Yet, Goldstien is not one to ignore her instincts, so she follows her hunch and gets herself into the biggest scandal Abernathy has ever seen.

She attacks Ms. Barebone in public, hexing the woman to high hell and back, for the discipline of her children. Dozens of people have to be obliviated. Goldstien is stripped of her badge (she's lucky she doesn't lose a job entirely) and reinstated under Abernathy's supervision in the Wand Permit Offices. How other people choose to discipline their unruly children is none of her business, she is told.

Abernathy is annoyed for several reasons, the most prominent one being that, whatever her wrongdoing, Goldstien is wasted behind a stack of paper. At least MACUSA wasn't stupid enough to fire her entirely. It's a small blessing.

"Why'd you do it, Goldstien?" He can't help but ask one day.

Goldstien is a morose, slumped figure, so unlike the proud woman Abernathy is used to looking up to. There are dark circles under her eyes, her hair is frizzier than he's seen it since they met, and her jacket looks too big on her frame. She looks defeated, but the spark in her eye still crackles.

"What that woman does to her children isn't punishment. She's abusing them. She preaches anti-magic sentiments—"

"She's a radical, religious no-maj, Goldstien, crying out for a hangin' is what they do."

"—AND I THINK she knows exactly what she's talking about. She's not just a no-maj. She's a squib. She knows. I just can't prove it." She's growling by the end of it and clenches her hands on the desk. "She's not just adopting kids at random. Nobody came to save you until you got your letter to Ilvermorny, Mr. Abernathy. She's picked those kids for a reason, I'm sure of it."

He really can't come up with anything to say in response to that. She sounds crazy. It's not that he doesn't believe her—it's just that no one else will.

One of the things that makes Goldstein a good auror is that she's willing to cut her way through the law for what she thinks its right. It's also what makes her a bad auror. Vigilante justice isn't looked upon fondly. It's reckless.

She isn't forbidden to go near the Second Salemers at first. That comes after a second incident when Ms. Barebone spots her and has an absolute conniption, half-recognizing her attacker. Luckily no one has to be obliviated a second time.

What really keeps Goldstien in the damp underbelly of the Woolworth Building is that she continues to act like an auror even though she's been stripped of her credentials. Some of the other aurors are so used to discussing their cases with her that they forget to keep their mouths shut. She's brilliant and tries to put in her two cents with the Investigative Team when she's figured out a lead or clue that they haven't yet put together. Her intrusion isn't appreciated and Abernathy is convinced that the investigators have let several hot cases go cold just to spite her.

Under his supervision, he tries to look out for her. He is rarely successful, but he does try.

"Goldstien!" He calls. She's dodged behind the desk, hiding like a child from a scolding—which, as a good friend, Abernathy is quick to give her.

"Goldstien, did you just butt in on the Investigative Team again?" She doesn't respond, making eye contact with the foreigner hovering behind him instead. She's up to something. Her can smell her nervousness like cologne. "Where've you been?"

"What…?" She responds dumbly. She hasn't been listening.

Abernathy grinds his teeth and whirls around to face the stranger. The man is tall and intimidating in all but his eyes, which are wide and inquisitive. He has poorly styled red hair and a weirdly sunburnt and freckled face that's a little horsey in the mouth. He has the expression of an audience member watching a circus. Abernathy doesn't much like feeling like a fool. "Where'd she pick you up?"

"Me?" The guy says innocently. He's a good liar; Abernathy will give him that.

On second thought, he hasn't the patience to put up with third party perspectives. He can't imagine how this simple passer-by got involved, but if they're all lucky Abernathy will be able to untangle him and get him out of trouble before they all get their wands snapped.

He raises his eyebrows at Goldstien, increasingly worried. He lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Have you been tracking them Second Salemers again?"

"Of course not, sir." Her response is too quick to be honest. Besides, she never calls him "sir."

Abernathy gives her the stink-eye, but they're interrupted before he can call her out on her bullshit. He straightens like he's taken a broomstick between the legs

"Afternoon, Mr. Graves, sir!"

Abernathy tries not to be hurt that Goldstien comes clean to Mr. Graves right off the bat. A story about a creature and a bank. The foreigner makes no comment.

"Well, let's see the little guy."

Abernathy cannot deny his burning curiosity and hovers eagerly as a case is presented and popped open. The swollen bubble of anticipation deflates with an exasperated sigh. Goldstien and the British stranger share a look. Graves stalks off, shaking his head, thinking his time has been wasted—"poor, eager, Porpentina; she tries so hard, but she's such a screw up," as the gossip mongers around the office have been saying these days.

Abernathy's blood goes cold to his toes. He knows her better than to think that she could screw up enough to mistake a patzki for an animal, even if it was rolling around on the ground and covered in dog hair.

"Ohhh, Goldstien! What trouble did you get yourself into this time?!"

End

Author Notes:

I 110% named Abernathy after Haymitch from The Hunger Games. *cackle* I knew I'd heard that name somewhere before.

I was complaining yesterday that I wanted a fic where Mary Lou was a squib child who was abandoned and so… I went… and wrote… Abernathy fic? Whatever, it works. I've also made a complaint lately that it never seems like the Goldstien sisters have any friends in other people's fics, so here's Tina and Abernathy being work buddies. (Do they ever hang out outside of work, you ask? Only for Yankees games.)

Lombardi's is an actual pizza place and was actually founded in 1905. Abernathy's muggle family is named after an actual mob boss, too.

I've head-canoned that "Mudblood" is a reference to blood clotting for probably a decade now and spent about five seconds coming up with an American term for it. Hemophillia is a disease that comes up frequently in families that are too closely related (hemophilia being a genetic disorder that makes it difficult for blood to clot. People with a severe form of this condition can literally die of a papercut or bruising), and I've often thought that such an illness would probably plague little creeps like Malfoy.

You can find me on Ao3 under the same old pen name. Find me on Tumblr, too.

~MegiiJ