Behaviour Unbecoming of a Ravenclaw

4. Eddie Carmichael

In which Eddie does something wrong.

There. That should do it. Eddie Carmichael jotted the last line of the memorandum in his neat, careful scroll, signed the bottom, and then folded it evenly before sending it flying off to his boss. Mr. Neal would be particularly pleased at the speed with which he'd delivered the resolution to this particular bit of research, and Eddie couldn't help whistling to himself as he sharpened his quill and then replaced it on the right side of his desk, just next to the inkbottle.

Magical Law was the place for him. He'd known it the minute he stepped into these offices. Hell, he'd known it long before that, when he'd been a boy at Hogwarts, listening to his best mate chatter on about Quidditch and girls and somehow still managing to concentrate on his revisions. His best mate could always spend hours talking about his latest conquests, both on the pitch and in the girls' dormitories—still could, though the pitch had been replaced by an office and the dorms by parties—so it had been an even more amazing feat that Eddie had pulled off the NEWT scores that he did. Not that he'd ever let something like that get in the way of his studies.

The only thing that had come close was the war, and that had been largely out of his control. He was a pureblood and working in an entry level position didn't draw too much attention, thankfully; he still had nightmares sometimes, where Death Eaters came into the office and stole his reports before they could be completed, maybe spilled bottles of ink on them, but they were akin to the "came to class only wearing my pants" dreams he used to have in school, nothing more. Nothing like what some of his mates had seen. He was one of the lucky ones, and he knew it.

All the more reason to do the best damned job he could possibly do. Magical Law was where it all happened, where the changes were made. The politicians could talk all they wanted, make bold statements to garner attention and support, but until this department laid it in stone—sometimes literally—things remained as they were. There was very little room for error, and that suited him very well.

Eddie heard a noise, and he glanced over his shoulder, unaware that anyone else had been working through lunch. "Padma? I thought you were eating with your sister today?"

She only shrugged, and he watched her for a moment, studying her expression and posture. Padma was a quiet sort, and as a fellow Ravenclaw, she was expectedly meticulous about her work. They hadn't been working together long, only since she'd transferred into this office a couple of months previous, but he'd been pleased so far, even enjoyed her company when they'd had time for socialising. Lately, though, she had seemed out of sorts. He'd wondered why that was, as any concerned person might have, but he didn't like to pry.

Now, though, it seemed as if she might need someone. He didn't know what was wrong, but it was definitely something. She had a photograph of some sort, and she tore her eyes off of it only long enough to look up at him for a moment. "She had to cancel," she said belatedly, "because of an assignment."

Ah, yes, that was right. Padma's twin was an Auror, and a damn good one, if Padma's praise was to be believed. She was biased, naturally, but the sister had been a Gryffindor, fought in the war, all that, so if she had half the dedication to her job that Padma did, he wouldn't have been at all surprised at success in that department.

"Who are they?" Eddie asked, gesturing toward the picture as he came to stand next to her. He latched onto it because it was there, and because it wasn't proper to just jump ahead and ask a witch what was troubling her if she didn't offer the information herself. At least, not witches you didn't know well.

"My friends," she said vaguely, tilting the picture so he could see it a little better.

He knew some of them, though certainly not all. He was a year older and had tended to befriend those even older than himself, but they had enough common friends and acquaintances that he'd been invited to a few parties. He had even let his best mate drag him to a couple, and they had been pleasant enough, though not really his idea of a good time. This picture looked like it had been at one of those sorts of events, if the number of occupants waving bottles of beer was an indication.

He recognized Terry Boot, grinning broadly and standing rather still in the centre of the group. Eddie's sister was a Healer, and so he'd run into the bloke a few times when dropping by St. Mungo's for lunch. The girl on his arm looked familiar, but he couldn't remember her name. Padma was to the girl's right, smiling like he'd remembered of her before the sombre weeks. Then there was a clump of witches huddled together and giggling who weren't paying attention to the fact that a picture was being taken and were obscuring several people behind them.

She seemed to take his silence as encouragement to continue, "That's Anthony, and Terry, and L—"

"Oi!" Eddie exclaimed, and then threw her an apologetic glance for the interruption. The gaggle of girls had shifted to one side for a moment, and he caught a glimpse of his best mate seated in the background, paying even less mind to the camera than the witches had been. "Sorry, it's just I remember this party. It was a few weeks ago, yeah? Boot's congratulations party? I got the invitation, but Mr. Neal had me duplicating statements for that big werewolf case. You remember the one?"

Padma nodded, though she was giving him a bit of a strange look. "Yeah, that's the party, and I remember the case. I don't think you left this office except to sleep for weeks."

Eddie chuckled. "You're not far off."

"How did you know this was that party?"

Ah, so that was why she had that odd expression on her face. It wasn't the sort of story he would usually share with a co-worker, but they had mutual friends, even if he didn't know Padma herself very well. She might find the same sort of humour in the tale as he did. He pointed to the photograph. "It's just I remember my best mate said he'd worn this particular shirt to that particular party." He gave her a smile, rolling his eyes a bit. "He calls it his 'bird-pulling' shirt. Only pulls it out when there's someone particularly hard-to-get on his radar. Like a good luck charm or something. I'm not sure why he bothers, really, because it's not as if he means to keep them, but—"

All in one sudden movement, Padma was gone. Eddie was temporarily stunned, unsure what he'd said or done to precipitate the action, if anything. Perhaps she was feeling ill? Should he go check on her? Then he heard the sound coming from the break room. It was faint, but he heard it all the same.

She was crying.

He cringed at the sound, thinking back to what he could have possibly done to upset her. His eyes drifted back down to the photo, and he saw it. Saw at which witch his best mate happened to be staring.

And then Eddie knew that, despite his hatred of making mistakes, he'd just duffed up big time.