Author's Notes: As always, many thanks to LuthAn for the beta.

The Magical War Detective I: The New Protector

Chapter Three: First Impressions

Part I

Wednesday, November 13, 1974

Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Guernsey Office

Alice deposited her trunk in her rented room above the Knarl and Griffin. She ran a brush through her hair and smoothed her robes before setting off to find the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Guernsey Office.

She frowned at her reflection in her small hand mirror. First impressions mattered and the last thing she wanted was to appear before her new boss looking like a scruffy schoolgirl. As she tried to unsnarl a tangle, her comb slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor.

Alice winced; dropping a comb while combing hair was a sign of a coming disappointment. As she knelt to pick up the comb, Alice wondered if this were a portent or mere superstition. There were many customs regarding hair among wizards. Some, like burning cut off hair were merely sensible, but others were simply bizarre like the threading a strand of hair through a frog's throat for luck before a wedding. Alice had pitied the frog when her sister Dorothea did it.

Finding the Office proved to be a challenge despite the Magical community of St. Peter Port occupying only one winding street. She was not accustomed to the steepness of the streets and was exhausted after ten minutes. Eventually one of the locals took pity and directed her to a tiny office squeezed in beside a photography shop.

Alice paused to consider her appearance outside the photography shop under the guise of examining the window display.

"You must be mindful of the image you present to the world!" her Aunt's Opal's' disapproving words thundered through Alice's mind. No matter what Alice thought of that particular aunt, she acknowledged the woman had a point.

Unfortunately, the image she currently presented was not her best. Her hair was decidedly windblown and lank, though combing her fingers through it seemed to remedy the worst of the mess. Her cheeks were pink from the cold and her brown eyes were bright. Alice sighed. She was still wearing her Hogwarts cloak, albeit without the school crest and with a different clasp, and if she had worn her school robes underneath she would have stood a good chance of being mistaken for a fourth year. She had always had a sweet face more suited to a little girl than a grown witch, but there was little she could do about that now. Maybe her mother's suggestion of make-up had some merit; but in this damp, it would probably have smeared so she would look like a fourteen-year-old clown.

Once she was paid, Alice resolved to find a new cloak. And some different robes in a better cut would not be amiss; perhaps even a few cosmetic potions. After all, just because she seldom bothered with such things did not mean she had no idea how to use them.

She adjusted her scarf and gave her hair a final pat. She could stand there by the window all day or she could go into the office, and she knew which she had to do. She took a deep breath and reached for the door. After a moment of fumbling with the handle, she got the door open and stepped over the threshold. It was warmer inside the office; whether that was the result of heating spells or simply being out of the cold November air was impossible to say.

"May I help you?" asked an old man in violet robes seated behind a desk. She though she saw him slide the Daily Prophet society page into a drawer, but couldn't be sure.

"I was sent here from London," Alice said, trying not to sound breathless as she produced a sheath of papers from her cloak pocket. "Alice Pevensey, I believe I'm expected."

The wizard stared at her, his expression switching from bored to suspicious in under a second. "Miss Pevensey." He pronounced her name with extreme distaste.

Alice bit her lip. Even here, practically in France, she could not evade her family's reputation. She wondered how much the Guernsey Office knew.

The wizard seemed to be expecting something from her. She felt her gaze slip down to her shoes before she caught herself and focused just behind the his left ear. She refused to allow herself to slide back into childish habits.

"I don't know your name," she said hopefully.

"Basil," the man said. Alice wondered if Basil was his given or family name, but before she could ask, Basil steered her into another room where there were two battered wooden desks, only one of them filled. The wizard at the occupied desk had his feet propped up on the top of a filing cabinet and seemed to be half-listening to a programme on the Wizarding Wireless Network.

"Pevensey's here," Basil announced before leaving Alice to fend for herself. He hadn't even told her who the wizard was, but she suspected he was Ketterly, her new boss.

"Andrew Ketterly," the wizard said gruffly, confirming her guess. He did not stand to shake her hand. "I'm Chief Protector here."

Ketterly studied her carefully under hooded blue eyes. Alice felt as though she were a bug pinned on a card.

"I petition London for seven years for help and they send you. Fortunately, for you, I'm accustomed to being the sole Protector in these islands, and it'll stay that way since it will take time to train you up. You will be learning the basics for a while," Ketterly said. "I hope you don't have any romantic notions of investigating murders any time soon. This isn't Baker Street."

"Baker Street?" Alice finally found her voice.

"Sherlock Holmes? Sir Arthur Conan Doyle?" Ketterly looked at her expectantly. "I suppose those don't ring any bells."

Alice shook her head. "I'm sorry. Is that a Muggle film?" Alice knew that Muggles sometimes knighted their actors.

"Books, actually, though many films have been made from them."

"Muggle books can turn into films?" Alice was very impressed.

"Not in the way you are thinking," Ketterly allowed himself a small smile.