I
The lift was descending, clacking everywhere and raging with violent snaps every time it stopped at a level. Charlotte was tapping her foot impatiently, though she felt slightly anxious about her return. She had been gone for almost three months, trapped inside a French office filled with obnoxious, too-important-to-pay-her-any-attention people and barely having any correspondence with London. The room assigned to her to act as a workplace in Paris had reeked and had been cold and damp throughout her time there. She often wondered if it was a suggestion of their private thoughts on British wizards and witches, or simply an unawareness of Britain's indoor conditions. Even so, she had chosen not to complain; unpleasant as it were, she knew it was a promotion from her previous responsibilities within the Ministry in London. It would certainly help her move up her career once she returned with a trading treaty between Britain and France, at least one that would not upset Denmark so much that they would resort to illegal exportation of their own goods.
The part that must have pained her the most was how lonesome a time it had been, and she had enjoyed very much the racket of the Atrium and sighting and waving at old friends who had disappeared into their own lifts. Level Six - Department of Magical Transportation, said the voice that seemed to belong to someone inside the lift.
"Lottie, how good it is to see you!" said a tall, lean man entering the lift and rushing to give her a one arm hug filling her nose with his fragrance with tobacco and salt water notes. She felt a bit sickened by his intense cologne. A hidden shiver ran up her neck as she felt his long arm bringing her closer and he continued without releasing her, "How are you, my dear? I reckon you had a good time in France? I did ask them to be nice to you." He sniggered.
"It was a bit clammy." That was all she could say.
He gave a loud cackle that echoed in the lift moving downwards. The other two people turned their heads at the sound but swiftly moved away from the pair, and especially moved away from Blackboon physically avoiding him, at any cost. Charlotte noticed he kept the same thoroughly cut dark hair and his navy robes were as impeccable as she remembered.
"Clammy you say! You are so amusing, my dear" he said, still ringing.
Level Five - Department of International Magical Cooperation, said the female voice again.
"Actually, I have to report to Mr. Crouch now." she said moving away from his clasp by pretending to look for something in her satchel.
"Of course, of course" he said lifting both his hands up in the air "I wouldn't want to keep you away from your job." He winked knowingly at her and grinning widely moved gracefully away towards the back.
Charlotte waited for the lift door to open and quickly stepped outside, breathing deeply the fresh air but stayed in the same place, back turned to the lift doors now closed, with as much contempt in her face as anyone could muster. Being in debt to Blackboon was her worst nightmare come true, and she knew that somehow it had potential to become even more terrible than it was at the moment.
It was a large room, mostly occupied by many small cubicles and with a very austere decoration; a corridor to the left would take her to the head of the department's office. There weren't many windows but the sun shone on the space between her cubicle and the other behind warming, a definite change from the rain pouring outside.
She moved fast towards her cubicle in the large open room where several other wizards and witches were already working inside their own cubicles, quite focused, leaning over their papers. As she got to her desk, piles of paperwork had already been stacked on top of it, she knew they were recent because they weren't dusty like everything else. She waved her wand so it sprayed a slow gust of air out of its top to clean it. Charlotte sat by the desk and started removing her notes and every legal document out of her satchel and organizing them into piles so that she could later show them to Mr. Crouch, but froze when she felt a light tap on her shoulder. For a moment she feared Blackboon had returned, but then she saw the sandy blonde hair and pale face of Ethan Cooper.
"Hello "he said "Thomas had said you were to come back two days ago."
"Yeah, I'm sorry, I had to prolong my stay a little longer so I could get this done" she said pointing at the papers she had just dropped on her desk. She mutely reproached herself for feeling she still had to report to him, and continued, firmly "I notified to Mr. Crouch of my delay."
"Of course," he said slowly and walked away with a sour look on his face.
Charlotte breathed deeply again with a frown, this promotion, pleasant as it had been in some respects, had caused her nothing but trouble so far. Everyone knew perfectly well that Ethan was supposed to be the one to leave for France: he was her senior and a widely respected wizard and representative among his colleagues and especially, among his superiors
He would have been the obvious choice if it hadn't been for Blackboon's meddling, who managed to recommend her, a mere trainee previous to her trip and a barely experienced employee, to that position taking it away from Ethan.
Charlotte could never condemn him for his unpleasant comments and looks, though they all made her awfully bitter and feel isolated at her workplace. Every day she was increasingly convinced she should have refused the position the moment it had been offered to her.
She finally headed to Barty Crouch's office with an armful of papers for him to read and approve of. She knew she had done a reasonably good job managing to compromise the demands of both countries, but somehow she felt even more nervous than she did when she entered the building. Mr. Crouch was not a very assertive or imposing individual but he was still everyone's boss.
Charlotte knocked on the door, she noticed her hand was shaking slightly and clenched it trying to calm herself by breathing slowly. She startled as the door was furiously opened by a massive man in emerald green robes and a round hirsute face that was frowning at her.
"What do you want?" he roared at her. For only a second she thought they had forgotten to warn her that Mr. Crouch was no longer the head of the department and had been replaced by a gigantic former hermit.
"I'm here to see Mr. Crouch" she said calmly. She had learned with the French not to respond heatedly to an already angry man; she had seen it end badly for most of those who did so.
"Mr Crouch" he spited "is unavailable at the moment. Come back later."
He was about to shut the door in her face when a low voice was heard from the inside,
"Mr Hall, don't you dare shut that door. Now, please, take back your seat." ordered Mr Crouch. "I'll deal with you again in a few minutes"
Mr Hall had no choice but to step back from the door. He was a large man, enough to block the entrance so once he stepped back Charlotte could finally see Mr Crouch's office and notice it hadn't change much from the rare visits she had taken previously. The same oak desk sitting in the middle of the room, in front of the door, and surrounded with fragile piles of papers; the same paintings of notable individuals within the department who now rested, leaning on their frames at her right with a set of sofas beneath them; at her left the whole wall was hidden behind a gigantic bookcase crammed with massive hardcover books with beautifully drawn letter in silver and gold on the spines.
"Ms. Murray, I'm so glad to see you well, please come in. You have the documents, I suppose?"
"Yes, sir, I have brought all the copies" she said walking swiftly towards him and placing a short stack of long parchments on the desk that was already packed full.
Charlotte looked cautiously at Mr. Hall.
"Don't mind Mr. Hall. Please pretend he is not in the room" said Mr. Crouch hurriedly going through the papers and Mr. Hall grumbled something that sounded very much like an insult. "Do remind me of this whole business, Miss Murray, wood importation, was it?"
"Yes, sir, the goal was essentially to settle at cheaper shipping prices between Britain and France and preventing Denmark from overwhelming the market. The Danish, of course, weren't very pleased about it, but eventually came to accept the terms since it offered several advantages, as the importation of oak would come cheaper to them as well."
"I see, and what about the Danish broom makers specifically? What did their representatives have to say about it?"
Charlotte heard Mr. Hall hissing loudly but tried her best to ignore his presence.
"They were in fact among the ones who weren't very pleased" she explained and couldn't help a bit of distaste at remembering how long it had taken, "but they eventually conceded and we concurred that the demand for their goods would not decrease even when faced with the increasing supply to French and English woodworkers and artisans."
"Very well, very well" he muttered, his attention still fixed on the papers.
A few minutes of silence followed, Charlotte felt her hands sweaty and her mouth dry and turned to focusing on her breathing again. She noticed through the corner of her eye Mr. Hall relentlessly fidgeting in his chair looking fretful and cross but pretended not to take any notice.
"Please leave those here." Mr. Crouch finally said placing the documents on top of an already unstable pile of papers, "And bring your notes too, ah yes, you've brought them already. Very well, you seem to have done a very good work, I am not surprise given the recommendations" he smiled at her encouragingly "You may leave for now, I'm sure you have more work to do." and he got up and showed her the door. Before it was shut, she still caught a nasty glance from Mr Hall.
As she moved away she felt a sour taste in her mouth and pure, unscathed rage brought crimson colours to her face. As long as she did a good job, she was sure it would be Blackboon's credit to take, and she despised it.