The rain was falling in sheets as Eric Sable walked through the streets of London, lead by his current guardian and landlady, Mrs. Peal. Although the rain was miserable, it did grant him an excuse to cover his waist-long braid, which would no doubt draw undesired attention. Their destination was the Ministry of Magic.
Eric looked up to his guide, trying to match her brisk steps. "May I ask why we're walking to the Ministry?"
Mrs. Peal answered clearly and patiently. "The wizarding community likes your work, but we'd like to see more of it. This petition will allow you to use a limited amount of magic to speed things up." She patted the rolled parchment in her cloak confidently.
"Um, I knew that. I mean, why are we walking to the Ministry?" Eric was sure Mrs. Peal knew what he meant. The Floo Network was far more efficient. The fact was, Eric knew the principles and practices of Apperation for some time. However, he was sure that Professor Dumbledore would lose his understanding nature if he so much as thought Eric was popping in and out of places before he took his O.W.L.s, which were still two years ahead of him.
"It's a matter of diplomacy. We'll have a much easier time getting you a license to practice within your own shop if we demonstrate a proper amount of prudence prior to obtaining it." It was clear that she had a good amount of experience dealing with ministers, and was determined that this would proceed without a hitch.
She directed him into an unremarkable phone booth, in which she swiftly dialed. A pleasant, disembodied voice happily rang out. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business." Mrs. Peal rapidly snapped out, "Clareone Peal and Eric Sable to submit a petition for a special waiver and license."
The happy voice informed them of the location to have their wands registered, badges were flicked out to them ( Eric Sable – Waiver and License ) and the booth sank into the ground. It wasn't long, however, before the booth opened out into an open atrium, complete with finished floors and a central fountain. They went through all required motions, though Eric got the impression that his guide wasn't overly fond of all the Ministry's procedures.
At length, they stepped to the lifts, only to be stopped by an overly chipper voice. "Oh, good heavens! Is that you, Clareone?" A spry, red haired man was gamboling over to them. Though he seemed a little thin, he gave off an exuberant energy that seemed to wash over everything close to him.
Mrs. Peal stopped and turned, suddenly looking quite happy. "Arthur, dear, it's been ages. How's Molly and all your darling children? There were, let's see; seven of them, with half still in school. How do you do it.?"
Arthur seemed to take it all in stride. "We make do well enough, though that does remind me. I know I owe you…"
Her features suddenly snapped sharply. "One more word, Arthur Weasley, and I'll box your ears. I never want to hear about you or your family owing me or mine anything for ten times my life. Am I completely clear? Good! I, on the other hand, owe Molly for those delightful recipes. I think a new kitchen table and chairs would suit her nicely. Eric, you will see to it?" Her eyes locked onto Eric's face. Finding himself anticipating a swift backhand ( or worse ) if he refused, he quickly nodded.
Arthur seemed extremely embarrassed. "Clareone, that's far too much …"
"I am a merchant, Arthur! That means I'm capable of appraising a value for what I receive, unless you wish to dispute that?" Her face screamed volumes about what she would do to anyone wanting to take up that challenge. Arthur quickly relented. Having settled the discussion, she guided Eric to an opening lift. "Right. You just see to all those nasty enchanted artifacts and leave us to the details. Oh, your anniversary is next month, isn't it?" As the doors closed, she turned to Eric. "That's ten chairs and a full sized table, ready by next month. Any questions?"
"Light varnish or dark?" Eric was suddenly very anxious about the outcome of the petition. This would be an extremely challenging job without some enchantments to speed things along, and failing promised dire consequences.
The elevator sped down level after level before finally reaching level two ( Department of Magical Law Enforcement ). As they stepped out of the lift, Eric could see a variety of workers heading this way or that, some of them suddenly looking sideways as Mrs. Peal walked by. At length they reached a set of heavy, dark stained and polished doors marked 'Wizengamot Administration Services'. She straightened herself and patted her hair delicately in place. Eric picked up on her desire to make an impression, bolting to open the door for her. A subtle nod was the only response she gave him, reassuring him of how well he did.
As they entered the office, they could see a receptionist, flanked by scores of clerks processing paper. The receptionist was a dark haired witch, immaculately dressed and sharply coiffed. "Can I help you?"
"I require the Clerk for the Second Undersecretary to the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic responsible for Acceptable and Licensed Deviations from General Codes and Directives. We will also require a Clerk of the Exchequer for Licenses and Fees." She blinked once. "I have an appointment."
Eric noted that the receptionist seemed extremely annoyed for some reason. "Row six - table ten." The partition gate swung wide.
The clerk at the table was a balding, wiry gentleman. "Mrs. Peal and Eric Sable: ten forty-five. Won't you sit down, please?"
She rested her hand on Eric's shoulder, holding him in place. "We have no intention of remaining that long. In accordance with Article Eighty-Three of the Code of Ordinances, a deviation from any decree can be licensed if a just and/or reasonable explanation can be provided that such a deviation can be allowed without violating the intent of the decree in question." She drew out a satchel from her cloak, and began producing a series of forbidding documents. "Here is a petition signed by merchants of Diagon Alley requesting that such a license be issued. Here is a seventy-six page thesis offering an interpretation of the purpose of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, it's intent, and why this license would not violate that purpose." She then drew out a small pouch of coins. "Finally, here are twenty-five galleons; which, by the Ministry Schedule of Fees and Fines, is the appropriate charge for a license of this kind."
The clerk blinked three times, then drew out a prewritten parchment. Filling in the lines, he turned the paper to Eric. "Sign here, here, and date here." A second clerk arrived, counted the coins presented, and provided a receipt. "Have a nice day."
As they left the office, Eric turned to Mrs. Peal. "That was incredible."
"Hardly, dear boy. It's simply a matter of knowing the questions and possible objections before they are presented. Faced with a mountain of well prepared documentation, it is far easier for an administration to take the money and go with the flow. Now, this license is limited to your workshop. No spell, charm, or enchantment may have any effect outside of that shop, or the license will be nullified and you will be dragged in to court. Do you understand?"
Eric nodded. Reading the fine print, it was still clear that the license gave him a free hand within the walls of the shop, allowing considerable latitude. There was a line or two about 'pursuit of gainful employment', but that could be viewed a number of ways. Besides, Diagon Alley was a place of constant spellcasting. The ethereal static that would cause should cover any special projects he could come up with. Most important would be to set up the shop such that he would know if he was being watched or not.
Mrs. Peal tugged on Eric's cloak to move him along, quickening her step. It seemed that she wished to be out of the Ministry as soon as possible. The reason why presented itself just shy of the lifts. "Well, well; Mrs. Clareone Peal. It has been some time since you've been here."
She turned to face the Minister of Magic, her face chiseled into unexpressive passivity. "Minister Fudge. I had hoped that my passing through would not have disturbed the good order of your work schedule."
"Oh, hardly, my dear. It's just that, after eleven years, to have you step back into the halls of the Ministry has caused quite a stir." Fudge seemed to be fairly happy to see her, but Eric had the impression that there was something in the air between them that he just couldn't put words to – something belied by their relative civility.
"I am here strictly on a business matter that has been concluded." The lift arrived, and she wasted no time directing Eric into it.
"That's disappointing. I was rather hoping that, after all this time, you might have reconsidered your leaving."
Her stance took an air of even dismissal. "You know my feelings on that matter, Cornelius. Goodbye!"
"Clareone, please!" The lift doors cut him off. Eric stood next to her in resolute silence through the remainder of the journey. As they arrived in the main atrium, she guided him over to the Floo Network.
"The Leaky Cauldron!" A burst of flame and she was gone. Eric thought it best that he followed suit. Arriving at the Cauldron, he found that she had already chosen a table, ordered lunch, and was waving him down to sit. "Well, I expect a story is in order."
Eric was taken aback by her directness. "I don't really need to know."
"Two grown adults make a spectacle of themselves in a crowded hallway, and you don't want to know more? Don't be ridiculous." Eric quickly swallowed his smirk. It was true that he wanted to know more; he was just surprised that she was willing to explain.
"I began my witch's career in 1965 as an Auror. I was fairly good at it, too. However, the job sets you apart from others, which I wasn't fond of, so after three years I obtained a job in administration. While that did give me an absolute mastery of bureaucracy, it was also incredibly boring, so I moved over to Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.
"It was quite a revelation discovering how poorly most creatures are dealt with. It's as if we can accept magic and all it presents, but can't understand the basic truth that the magical world holds more than one intelligent creature in it." She paused in her retelling to sip some tea, as if the drink could wash away a bitter memory. "I'm sorry, I'm digressing.
"When Voldemort went public, I returned to the Aurors as an investigator, staying with the department until he was struck down. I planned to remain through the entire clean-up. You see, it was my desire that everyone accused had proper counsel. It wasn't out of any kind of mercy, I simply didn't want our community to think that we were chaining people in Azkaban simply because we could. There would be trials, the trials would proceed in good order, and the facts would condemn the guilty.
"One case came before me: a mass-murderer. Every shred of evidence pointed to his guilt, but he insisted on his innocence. In a fit of frustration, I suggested as a joke that he accept a pensive cast to show me what happened. To my amazement, he agreed. So, he was bound such that he couldn't deceive the spell, and it was cast. His memories bore out his claim – he was innocent.
"Cornelius, however, refused to have the pensive entered as evidence. I tried everything, including recommending that it be cast in the presence of the Wizengamot to provide direct testimony. You see, even if he had killed all those people but somehow didn't remember it correctly, that meant that he was insane. That leads to consignment to St. Mungo's, rather than to Azkaban. However, my pleas were to no avail for the simple fact that there was no trial. He was condemned without a hearing and sentenced to Azkaban."
There was another pause while she recovered herself. "I was devastated. Everything I had tried to accomplish as a counselor had been thrown aside, making a mockery of every other case I had participated in. It was a personal horror to know that my efforts didn't make the proceedings any more legitimate. The system had failed. So, I quit the Ministry altogether and took up the buying, selling and auctioning of antiquities."
Patting Eric's arm, she smiled. "I miss it sometimes, but if I hadn't have left, I would not have been able to look after you."
Never having had a family, her gesture warmed his heart. "Thanks. One thing, though: you just spilled out You-Know-Who's name…"
"Voldemort, Eric – Voldemort. If I can't teach you anything else, learn this one thing: never let your enemy's propaganda get the better of you. Voldemort has built up a superstition regarding his name in a community prone to strange things, and that's how he likes it. There are extremely few beings in the whole of the universe who's names carry any power. He would have you believe he's one of them. So long as people consider him larger than life, fear will always be his most powerful ally."