Note: For Vicki Turner, the most enthusiastic reviewer I have ever had the pleasure of hearing from!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
17: Two Interviews
When the Acting Head of Aurors entered the Auror Department's gymnasium that afternoon, she felt as if she had stepped into the middle of a war zone. Spells were streaking through the air in all directions as Auror cadets ducked, dodged and sprinted their way through one chaotic exercise or another and as she took a further step into the room, Dora was abruptly forced to stumble sideways out of the path of a stray stunning spell. Staggering at the sudden movement, the metamorphmagus struggled to keep her balance as another wayward hex came streaking in her direction. Caught by a sudden wave of nausea at the bright lights and jerking movements she was forced to plead at the top of her lungs:
"Ceasefire! Ceasefire!"
"CEASEFIRE!" Jasmine Wickes bellowed from somewhere amidst the chaos and there was an almost instantaneous ringing silence.
As all eyed turned to stare at her, Dora struggled to straighten up, planting her feet more firmly upon the floor, only to find that her sudden bout of dizziness had not subsided. She tried her best to ignore the sensation as she watched Jasmine stride across the room towards her, calling:
"Look sharp, boys and girls! Boss is checking up on us!"
"Not at all..." Dora murmured, glancing around at all the staring faces, frowning a little to catch one of the cadets furiously attempting to dust a smudge of dirt from the front of his robes. Once Jasmine had come to a halt in front of her, she felt obliged to ask: "How...how are we all doing here?"
"Everything's under control and running smoothly." Jasmine said, and Dora nodded gratefully, only to find it made her head spin.
"Great...excellent...that's excellent, Jas...can I...can I just borrow you outside for a minute?"
At Dora's mumbling, Jasmine's expression grew wary.
"Is everything alright?"
"Yes, yes...I'll only keep you a moment."
It felt like a huge relief to step back out into the corridor, and no sooner had Jasmine stepped out after her, leaving the door to swing shut behind them, Dora found herself slumping sideways to lean heavily against the cool wall.
"Tonks...?"
"I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. How about you? How...how's Isaac?"
"No change. Are you sure you're alright?"
"There's some paperwork gone walkabout, Jas. Something about Brunswick, d'you know anything about that?"
Jasmine pursed her lips together in consideration, before entirely ignoring the question.
"I think you should have a lie down." she said, reaching to grasp Dora firmly by the elbow and half-dragging her off down the corridor, and Dora gave a spluttering chuckle.
"Jas, there's paperwork missing, some nut job we can't arrest until it's found and the Obliviators liaised with...I've got to conduct interviews this afternoon, I need to draw up a guard duty rota, I need to speak to Magical Substances and hurry them along and I don't know when but I'll have to organise a meeting for the volunteers..."
As they shuffled across the threshold into the break room, Jasmine promptly slammed the door shut and said:
"Tonks?"
"Mm?"
"Shut up and sit down."
Despite herself, Dora collapsed down onto the nearest sofa, eyes drifting closed as she mumbled:
"I can't do this anymore, Jas."
"Neither can I." Jasmine muttered, arms folded firmly across her chest. "Don't move a muscle, d'you hear me? I'll wave a magic wand..."
Jasmine swept straight back out of the room and down the corridor, slipping nimbly into the main office, weaving in and out of the cubicles, pausing only briefly to call:
"I've found that paperwork!"
Albert Diggory paused in his frantic searching to turn and look at her with wide eyes.
"Really?"
"Yep!" the witch lied happily. "Tonks says you're to hot foot it up to speak to the Obliviator Squad, get them down here for a meeting in five minutes!"
"What...now?"
"Yep!"
"But isn't Tonks busy doing..."
"Nope. She says she wants to have the meeting now. Right now, Bertie! She'll be back here any moment!" Hurrying off across the office again, Jasmine paused to stick her head around another cubicle to hiss:
"Hey! Ted!"
Teddy, busy scrawling notes on a sheet of parchment, very nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Oh! Hi, Jas..." he began, turning to face her, only for her to interrupt to inform him:
"You need to take an hour off work!"
"I...what?"
"Take an hour off work, Ted!" Jasmine repeated impatiently, quite infuriated when he merely stared at her, mystified.
"Boss says there's no such thing as time off at a time like this..." he began to remind her, only for Jasmine to fidget irritably and hiss:
"Take a bloody hour off work, Ted, and take your mum to the bloody hospital! She's half-passed out in the break room, for Merlin's sake! You need to do something! She'll not go on her own, we'll probably have to stun her and you're the only one she won't disarm and string up on the Atrium ceiling for daring to try! Don't take no for an answer, alright?! And...and don't let them take her in, either! Just a...a few doses of whatever they've got to perk her up a bit and straight back here, else she'll kill the pair of us and the investigation'll be even more doomed! And not a word to anybody, alright?! Nobody's to know she's gone!"
And with that, Jasmine turned and hurried on across the room until she reached her office.
Or Dora's office.
Their office.
The office.
The witch frowned as she reached to open the door and no sooner had she stepped inside and turned to push the door firmly shut behind her she heard movement over by the desk and found herself hesitating.
"Afternoon, Jasmine." a deep, familiar voice greeted, and Jasmine very nearly swore. It took her some effort to turn slowly around, plastering a serene smile onto her face as she greeted:
"Afternoon, Minister!"
It sounded wooden, even to her own ears, but she hoped somehow he wouldn't sense the utter chaos that she was attempting to keep at bay. She didn't want to make the department look bad, make Dora look bad...
...if he found out she'd lost that bloody paperwork...!
Kingsley Shacklebolt stared at her over the top of a sheaf of papers he was holding in one hand, and after a sizeable pause he gave a soft huff and said:
"Don't you Afternoon Minister me, Jasmine Wickes! I know ripped seams when I see them!"
"I don't know what you're talking about." Jasmine said, making a beeline for the filing cabinets in the corner. As she reached to yank one open and set about a furious search for the missing paperwork, the wizard informed her bluntly:
"You're a worse liar than Tonks is."
"I'm a worse most things than Tonks is." Jasmine recalled distractedly, teeth gritted as she willed the papers to appear before her eyes.
The Minister went back to staring at his work.
"Where is she?"
"Hm?"
"Tonks. Where is she?"
"Oh, here and there! You know what she's like..."
"She's ill, then."
"Is she?" Jasmine said, as if this were quite a fascinating statement of fact, and Kingsley muttered:
"She looked like a corpse when I saw her this morning. Merlin knows what she's like by now...her legs! It'll be a wonder they'll ever heal the rate she's going..."
"Ha!" Jasmine exclaimed suddenly, feeling a flood of relief as she snatched the elusive papers out of the drawer and slammed it shut in triumph.
The Minister shook his head despairingly and as she hurried over to the desk, the witch consented to wondering:
"What were you saying?"
"I said she's going to stay crippled, Jas!"
"Oh..." Jasmine felt a dull, sinking sensation settling in her stomach as she reached to pull open a drawer and set about rifling through the contents.
"What are you looking for?" the Minister inquired, shifting sideways in his seat to give her more room.
"Note paper."
"I've got it here..."
"Not that sort of note paper."
"No?"
"No," Jasmine reached to pull out an alarmingly bright red envelope and sheet of creamy parchment that instantly left an odd smell upon the air that was faintly reminiscent of gunpowder. "This sort of note paper! Can I borrow that quill?"
Some minutes later, several floors above, there was a great commotion in the Magical Substances office as a red envelope deposited itself on the Head of Department's desk, before promptly exploding in a series of furious shrieks and threats that made several of the workers spill coffee down their robes, whilst one witch dropped a pipette into a suspect bottle of mystery chemicals that promptly consumed the instrument with a sound that sounded remarkably like a violent burp.
As she collapsed down upon an upturned barrel outside of a boarded up old apothecary, Imogen Lupin reached to unroll the sleeves of her grandmother's Auror robes before gazing down at the long roll of parchment in her hand, the whole surface crammed full of neatly printed names and notes, and at the sight of her handiwork the young witch felt as if she were soaring.
She felt so pleased with herself, she thought proudly as a man shuffled up to the shop window to her side and set about taping a large sheet of parchment to the grubby glass. Nana Dora was going to be so impressed! And, more importantly, the Auror Department was going to be flooded with so many volunteers that they probably wouldn't know what to do with all of them!
Recruiting just sat in the Atrium would never have worked quite as well as going out into the streets. Having spent several hours at the task, Imogen found she felt invigorated. It made you invincible, having a purpose. She felt as if she could do anything...
"S'cuse me, Miss." said the man through a mouthful of spellotape, and as Imogen stood up to get out of his way, she turned to eye his handiwork.
"Wouldn't a sticking charm work better?" she wondered, and as he plastered the tape haphazardly over the notice, the man told her:
"There's regulations on sticking charms in public places, you know. Case we go round doing 'em permanent like." He stepped back, apparently pleased with his half-hearted and distinctly wonky efforts, before tipping his grubby flat cap to the witch and turning to shuffle off across the road, armed with a fresh sheet to stick.
Imogen stepped forward to take a closer look at the poster. It was not, she noted, issued by the Ministry of Magic like those Dora had sent out to be displayed the previous night. In place of the purple stamped Ministry logo was an elaborate coat of arms bearing a steaming black cauldron and a line of archaic looking script that was quite lost thanks to the thick ink in which it had been printed.
It turned out to be a job advertisement.
Prestigious Potions Manufacturer seeks Outstanding Candidate for the Role of Ingredients Coordinator, Imogen read. The successful candidate will have obtained good NEWT level qualifications including an Outstanding grade in NEWT Level Potions, have excellent written and verbal communication skills, work well both in a team and unsupervised and have previous apothecary experience. A good grasp of mathematics would also be beneficial...
There was an address, Imogen noted, one of the large and rather dusty establishments up the other end of Diagon Alley by Gringott's Bank, and an invitation to collect an application form to be considered for interview...
Interviews began that they afternoon.
Imogen rocked back upon her heels, pursing her lips in wild consideration and, feeling uncontrollably impulsive and ready to conquer the world, the young witch found herself announcing to nobody in particular:
"I bet I could do a job like that..."
Teddy Lupin leant uneasily forward in his chair to peer sideways at the witch sat beside him, his expression scrutinising.
"D'you suppose I should send word to Dad?" he said, and as his mother sat contemplating the metal clamped to her legs, her expression blank, she shook her head.
Dora was being uncharacteristically quiet.
Her son was finding this increasingly troubling. After all, 'quiet' was rarely part of of the Acting Head of Aurors' vocabulary.
They had been sat in the reception of St. Mungo's hospital for the past fifteen minutes in grim silence and there had been little if no fight in Dora when he had slipped into the break room back at Auror Headquarters to persuade her to make the trip.
"Are you going to put me on disciplinary charges?" Teddy asked, quirking an eyebrow in an attempt to coax some smile or indeed any reaction out of her at all, and in response, his mother slumped sideways until her head was resting against his shoulder.
And there the two Aurors remained for another five minutes.
Their silent wait was disturbed a short while later by a commotion over by the hospital entrance.
"I say!" a panicked voice called as there came the sound of running feet upon tiled floor. "This is completely unacceptable, we do have rules here, you know!"
Teddy looked round to see a flustered looking security wizard in his late fifties hurrying along after what appeared to be a small mob of quill-wielding witches and wizards brandishing notepads and a couple of cameras. The Auror's nose wrinkled in distaste as the mob made a beeline for his mother, trampling past other patients who stared at them, eyes wide.
"Mrs Lupin!"
"A word, Mrs Lupin!"
"Mrs Lupin..."
Dora did not so much as look up.
"Bloody hell..." the witch uttered, not bothering to even raise her head from Teddy's shoulder, and as the security wizard made another feeble attempt to stop the proceedings, Teddy felt his temper, which had been fraying for days, snap.
He rose purposefully to his feet, leaving Dora to very nearly topple sideways off her chair, reaching into his pockets, and in one swift movement the reporters found themselves faced with an Auror ID badge and the end of a wand.
"Auror Department!" Teddy declared furiously as the mob froze in it's tracks. "Don't move a bloody muscle!"
Silence descended over the room like a lead balloon.
"I suggest you all turn around and leave quietly," Teddy said in clipped tones, "this is a hospital not a zoo! People come here for healing and some peace and quiet, not to be hounded by a bunch of vultures for the sake of a few pointless snapshots and meaningless words on the front of a newspaper!"
The reporter at the front of the group eyed the wand in consideration for a long moment, before carefully wetting his lips and trying:
"We were just wondering what..."
"I bet you were!" Teddy interrupted impatiently. "But you can wonder no longer! There's no news here, we're simply dropping in on Mr Potter on our lunch break! That's not news, that's a very mundane occurrence of every day life!"
During this frank explanation, one of the reporters had slowly begun to raise her camera up towards her eye, and she was just squinting through the viewfinder when there came a sudden bang like a bullet from a gun and smoke began to pour out of the contraption in purple billows that made the witch give a small squeal of horror, before the promptly dissolved into spluttering coughs.
"Does anybody else want to take a photograph?" Teddy inquired calmly, moving his wand back to point at the crowd at large.
Nobody moved.
"No?" the Auror said, grip upon his ID card tightening. "Then I suggest you all get out of here before I arrest every last one of you!"
"'S not really our jurisdiction, love." Dora told him vaguely as she stared over at the reception desk, quite disinterested, and her son told her:
"Rubbish! You arrest reporters all the time!"
"Mm..." Dora said, frowning a little as if she had quite forgotten all of this. "I suppose I do, don't I? I can't seem to help it, really. I just don't like them very much..."
The reporters were already beginning to back off towards the door. The security wizard looked on, apparently in awe.
By the time they were disappearing out of the doors and Teddy had sat back down, Dora had gone back to staring at her legs. She sighed heavily and told him:
"They'll find out the truth, you know. They always do, somehow." She glanced at the watch upon her wrist, then sighed heavily.
"Stop looking at your watch and relax, Mum." Teddy told her, leaning heavily back in his seat so he could reach to sling an arm around her shoulders. "Everything's under control, I promise..."
At that moment, a witch dressed in lime green healers robes appeared at Dora's elbow, clutching a clipboard to her chest.
"Nymphadora Lupin?" she inquired, squinting from Dora to her notes, and Dora managed a wary:
"Yes?"
"Mrs Lupin my name is Healer Dainsworth. Your appearance in our reception this afternoon has caught the attention of a number of my colleagues who saw to you last you were here."
"Right..."
"I must say, we have some...some serious concerns..."
"Yes," Dora reaching to sweep the hair from her eyes with a sigh. "I don't expect they're nearly as serious as all the concerns I have right now. If...if it's possible I'd just like some...some decent painkillers and...and some proper medicine to perk me up a bit and then I'll be getting back to work..."
"We would like to admit you, Mrs. Lupin." Healer Dainsworth explained, sounding a little apprehensive, and both Teddy and Dora immediately murmured:
"No, thank you."
The witch stared down at the two Aurors as if she thought them both quite mad. She seemed to take a deep breath before pointing out:
"We practice medicine in this hospital, Mrs Lupin. Not miracles! You really must take a bed so that we can take proper care of you..."
"Again," Dora said, offering the woman an almost-smile, "no thank you. I am not here to be admitted. I'm just here for some medicine." At the look she was offered, she asked: "Are you prepared to give me any?"
The healer gaped at her for a moment, before repeating:
"You must take a bed..."
"Are you saying you won't give me anything unless I allow you to admit me?" Dora attempted to clarify, mystified, and when the healer hesitated for a brief moment the metamorphmagus sighed heavily. "Very well then," she said, reaching to snatch up her cane so that she could set about heaving herself to her feet. "Come along, Ted, I haven't got all day..."
As Teddy reluctantly reached to grasp his mother by the elbow, ready to help her to her feet, the healer's hand shot forward to press against Dora's shoulder.
"Wait!" she said, eyes widening in alarm. "Don't go! I...let me just...medicine! I'll get you some medicine just...just wait here! Don't go anywhere!"
As Dora settled herself back in the chair, she and Teddy watched the woman rush back over to the reception desk, where a pair of her colleagues were stood watching from a distance. They went into a huddle, casting occasional disapproving glances over their shoulders at the pair.
"Perhaps you should do what they say." Teddy ventured after a moment. "Pass the baton, Mum. Let Xander take charge..."
"No."
"But..."
"No, Ted. The department's had enough shake ups as it is. And anyway, nobody wants Xander in charge, for Merlin's sake!"
"Why not?"
"Because! To Xander it's just his job! It's just a job to all of them, Ted! They're not like me or you! It's not just a job for us, it's personal! Look what Fawley's done to our Pan! To...to me, look at me! Don't you tell me to step away and...and give up! Would you let them admit you if you were me?!"
"You shouldn't do all this for revenge." Teddy pointed out warily. "Revenge is never worth it, it won't make you feel truly better. You're a better person for avoiding it. It's the moral thing to do. You taught me that."
"I did." the witch agreed, her eyes drifting closed with a frown. "But morality wears thin when you get to my age, Ted. It can be tiring, trying to be so bloody good the whole time, and I'm not perfect! I wasn't perfect when I was younger, either! And I'm certainly not going to waste my time trying to be perfect now. I'm not going to pretend I didn't...didn't wake up this morning thinking if somebody caught Fawley with an Unforgivable Curse I'd bloody well forgive them in a heartbeat!"
"But you'd not do it yourself."
"I wouldn't kill him. But...maybe..."
"You'd not Crucio him either. I know you wouldn't. You couldn't. You don't have the mind to cast a curse like that, Mum. You have to mean it..."
"Oh, I could mean it! I can mean a whole lot of terrible, terrible things! Some people aren't capable of something as dreadful as that, Ted. But I know I am. I can feel it...it's in my bones...I can feel it more the older I get. It's like a bloody tumour pressed to my head. Ever since the War it's been growing...building up inside of me and the older I get...the more tired I get the more I think...the more I wonder if I might just...just snap one day! Because I'm old and I want a decent, quiet life! And I can't stand all these wild, unruly roads life keeps driving me down! And I know I shouldn't feel put upon, I know my life's no different from anyone else's and I've made my bed to lie on! But I can't tolerate it now I'm older! I want to give up! I wan't to do the easy thing, not the right one! I want revenge and I want him to suffer! And I want to damn the consequences and do whatever the bloody hell I want! I want to not care! I want off this moral high ground where we get a pretty view but sod all else! It's all in the back of my mind, eating away at me and if it all comes rushing out one of these days I won't so much as blink!"
"It won't." Teddy insisted, reaching to press a hand to her arm, and when she looked up at him disbelievingly, he assured her: "I know it won't. Because I know my mother."
Dora reached to hug her son's arm to her chest, her head coming to rest upon his shoulder again.
"I hope you do." she whispered. "Because I'm going to give up on myself. And when I do...I'll need all you know, Sweetheart..."
Pandora Lupin stared out of her bedroom window, watching as her mother disappeared round the corner to the main road on her way to work.
"We'll leave in an hour, Lala!" her grandfather called up the stairs, and the girl rocked apprehensively back upon her heels, lips pursed firmly together.
She had never been more worried about a visit to see her grandmother in all her life.
As if she didn't have enough to worry about already, the squib thought glumly.
Since her talk with her mother some hours earlier, Pandora had kept to her bedroom, trying her best to do the grown up thing and give her situation some serious consideration. She had tried to think about the three options that her parents seemed to think were open to her, and how she felt about each individual one.
The first option of keeping the baby...she was determined to call it a baby and think of it as such from now on...was still a concept that she was struggling with. Despite her new determination, she was still having trouble coming to terms with what precisely having a baby meant. She had thought of all the things her mother did for her and whether or not she could imagine having that sort of responsibility herself, but it was all rather overwhelming and she wasn't quite sure how much simple human nature had to do with it...was maternal instinct just...something that would naturally happen...
The second option, getting rid of the baby entirely, had seemed like such a sensible option when the issue had first been raised earlier that day. But the more Pandora thought about it, about having to go to a clinic, about having it all done, the more frightening it seemed.
Of course having a baby was a frightening idea too. But getting rid of it seemed even worse. What if she didn't know when life began? What if she only realised it after it was too late? What if she grew up and realised that she had killed her own child? What if she had another baby when she was older? How would she feel to have picked one to keep and one to get rid of? What if she only realised what she had truly done afterwards and got caught up wondering what if?
The other option, one which her parents had only touched on briefly, was to give the baby away and have it adopted. The only thing Pandora was reasonably certain of was that she did not like this idea. Family was important to her, her family was everything! You couldn't just send a child away from it's family like that, it wouldn't be right. Even if the child didn't know, there would always be a hole left behind. And what if the child grew up to feel out of place because she had sent it away? Pandora knew all about feeling out of place. She wouldn't wish it on anybody, let alone her own flesh and blood...
It was interesting, Pandora mused, how much importance people placed on family. Family could consume your entire world.
She found herself thinking of Valbona Luga and her desperate desire to be loved by her niece Rovena, despite just how unpleasant and downright awful a person Rovena Luga was.
Love was blind, Pandora saw, and Rovena Luga didn't know just how lucky she was! There was Valbona, with no family in the world to love her, and yet she loved her niece unconditionally. Rovena would always have Valbona, no matter what...
Just like Pandora would always have her mother and her grandmother...Imogen...
That was what family was. Constant. Reassuring. An unstoppable stream of love like no other. It was wonderful to give and wonderful to receive and it made the very foundations of Pandora's life...
And just then, as Carrie finally disappeared entirely from sight, it occurred to Pandora that really, that was what this child was. An opportunity for unconditional, unwavering love. There was nothing in the world quite like the bond between a mother and child. It was such a special thing...and here Pandora was, in a difficult situation, but with such a wonderful thing within her grasp...
She'd played with dolls as a child, played at being Mum. Back then it had all been about tucking the dolls up in bed and giving them their bottle, wiping away imaginary tears and pushing them around the back garden in a miniature pushchair. But ultimately love was the most important thing. And how could she have been so worried about whether or not she was the maternal type or whether she would love the baby? Of course she would love her own child! Because that was what it was all about, it was all about that wonderful, unbreakable bond. The sort of bond that held the world together, that was an anchor, that banished evil like Voldemort and made life worth living!
And for the first time since discovering that she was pregnant, although she knew that really she still wasn't sure what she was going to do, the concept of keeping the baby was suddenly thrilling. It was...and Pandora couldn't quite believe that she was finally considering this, a genuine option that she might just go for...
She would love to be loved the same way that she loved her own mother. In fact she couldn't imagine anything more wonderful. After Jeff's tarnished imitation of love, the prospect of something more real and concrete seemed very appealing.
Thinking of Jeff, however, raised one significant question in Pandora's mind, and she found herself drifting off downstairs in search of her grandfather.
She found Remus in the sitting room, examining a book that Teddy had abandoned by the sofa some evenings previously.
"Grandad?"
"Hm?"
"Can I ask you a question?"
"Certainly, Lala."
Pandora hovered in the doorway for a long moment, fidgeting, before folding her arms firmly across her chest and staring at her grandfather intently as she asked:
"Would you still love the baby even if it's Jeff's child?"
The book in Remus' hands slowly descended into his lap and he contemplated this troubling question for a long moment, before looking up at his granddaughter to inquire:
"Would you?"
Pandora felt taken aback.
"I...I think so..." she began uncertainly, and the werewolf smiled and assured her:
"Then I would love him or her as much as I love you, Sweetheart."
"D'you think Nana would?" Pandora asked, relaxing a little, and Remus raised an eyebrow.
"There's no doubt."
"Why?"
"There's a lot of murky blood in your Nana's veins, Pandora. She's not about to condemn an innocent child for being born into similar circumstances."
Pandora's nose wrinkled a little. She didn't like the idea of murky blood. It reminded her of the slur Mudblood and she felt surprised that her grandfather would mention blood in such a way at all.
"As I can recall explaining to your mother when she was your age, Pan, there's no such thing as actual bad blood. There are only bad influences."
Pandora considered this for a long moment, chewing upon a nail. Her nails had grown short and stubby over recent weeks, for she was forever biting them.
"What if it were to...to look like him?" she asked, the question twisting her stomach into knots.
Remus drew in a deep breath.
"Well," he said slowly, shifting until he was sat a little straighter in his seat, his hands folding deliberately atop the book in his lap. "I expect it might be troubling for all of us. But at the end of the day, Sweetheart, he or she would be yours. And you couldn't get much more perfect than that, could you? We'd see your eyes or your nose or think the baby has your smile. Because it would be your baby and that's the only comparison any of us would be interested in."
"Yes but...but if it looks like Jeff it'll be...well..."
"Devilishly handsome, I suspect." her grandfather interrupted briskly, heaving himself to his feet. "Don't you worry about a thing like that, Pan. Appearances are no more telling than blood. Believe me. Now then, how should you like to make your grandad a nice up of tea?"
When she stepped through the double doors of Silver Chalice Potions, Imogen thought the reception area looked rather posh for what was essentially a potions' factory. The small line of chairs for waiting visitors lined up against the wall were gilded with blush seats, and there was a rich blue carpet across the floor. It made Imogen curious about what went on behind the closed doors to the side of the desk. Perhaps, she thought as she strode up towards the desk, she might just find out.
The receptionist eyed her curiously over the top of a pair of thick horn-rimmed glasses. She was a middle-aged, rotund witch wearing an exquisite set of immaculate navy robes that looked to be a few sizes too small, the buttons down the front straining with each breath that she drew.
"Can I help you?" the receptionist asked Imogen politely, rather as if it were a luxury hotel that she was manning as opposed to what was essentially a potion factory, and before Imogen could say anything, the woman asked: "Auror Department, is it?" When Imogen looked blankly at her, she gestured to the young witch and said: "I recognise your robes, Madam."
Imogen glanced down at herself, her mouth forming a silent 'oh...'
"Actually I've come to apply for the job you've been advertising on posters outside." she explained, and when this was not entirely comprehended she added: "I'm not actually an Auror. I'm just...borrowing these..."
The receptionist did not look any less bemused, but nevertheless she reached to pull open a small filing cabinet to her left so that she could extract a neat sheet of parchment.
"You'll be wanting this application form, then." she said, handing over a quill for good measure. "Do take a seat, Mis...?"
"Lupin." Imogen supplied, and there was something strange in the receptionist's tone as she finished:
"...Lupin." No sooner had Imogen accepted the paperwork, the woman rose to her feet. She stared at Imogen for a moment, causing the young witch to smile uncertainly, before repeating: 'Yes, do take a seat!" And with that she turned to disappear through the door behind her.
Left alone in the reception area, Imogen went to sake a seat by the window, and set about filling out the application form. It was a straight forward enough affair, a section for education, a section for previous employment and key skills. She had almost finished by the time the receptionist returned some ten minutes later, and Imogen was just signing a loopy signature at the bottom of the page when a newcomer arrived via the double doors leading to the street.
He was a young man perhaps a few years Imogen's senior, dressed in an immaculate set of robes, his hair carefully combed until not a single strand was out of place. Imogen watched him approach the reception desk, whereupon he announced with a bright smile that he was here for his interview.
Imogen looked down at her own attire with a small frown. Of course her grandmother's robes were perfectly clean and pressed and as robes went Auror uniform was certainly smart. But Imogen was a good half-head taller than her grandmother, the sleeve were just a bit too short, and there was the simple fact that she had no right to be wearing them...
She considered taking them off, but her clothes underneath were simply far too casual. She'd thrown them on that morning with not much thought at all, indeed the thoughts she had had were that really they could do with a good going over with an iron...
She hadn't really given her hair a decent brush, either, and really she hadn't thought any of this through in the slightest...
Imogen briefly considered abandoning the paperwork and making a beeline for the door, only for the receptionist to call:
"Are you finished over there?"
As the wizard took a seat beside her, Imogen was forced to plastered a smile onto her face as she got up to return the papers to the desk. She was offered a bright smile and the receptionist promptly disappeared through the door behind her again, pausing to call: "You'll be seen shortly, Mr Locke."
Imogen sat back down and fiddled with the sleeve of her robes. Mr Locke was eying her curiously and making a bad job of pretending otherwise.
She didn't even know anything about the company, she found herself musing, indeed she didn't really know exactly what the job entailed. Imogen was beginning to wonder what on earth had possessed her to be so reckless. This could only end in embarrassment, surely? And now she was stuck here waiting to be seen and she'd be sat here for ages because clearly Locke was due to be interviewed first...
Before she knew it, the receptionist had popped her head around the door and called:
"Miss Lupin? Mr Selwyn will see you now."
Had she glanced sideways, Imogen would have seen Locke look bemusedly at his watch, but she was too preoccupied by her stomach twisting into knots.
Had the woman just said Mr...Selwyn?
No. Surely not!
She was being looked at expectantly, and so Imogen forced a smile onto her face and heaved herself out of her chair.
It was all happening rather quickly, she thought as she followed the receptionist through the door and down a corridor. Had her application been that impressive at one brief glance? At least it would all be over before she knew it and she could escape off home to contemplate her idiocy in private...
Mr Selwyn, if indeed that was his name, had a large office with an enormous, highly polished mahogany desk that would have dominated the wood-panelled room were it not for the elaborate marble fireplace set in the wall behind it.
He was a tall man, Imogen could tell despite the fact that he was seated, with a long clean-shaven face adorned with a distinctly aristocratic look. He had slick, silvery hair and was wearing pinstriped robes that Imogen suspected came from an startlingly expensive tailor. He was smoking a pipe, from which rose a steady stream of faintly orange smoke, and he brandished the implement enthusiastically as he rose to his feet.
"Ah!" he called, his voice as rich as his appearance, "Miss Lupin, I presume!"
As she went to shake his hand with a polite greeting, Imogen thought he seemed quite a jovial sort of man and he seemed quite unperturbed to wonder:
"Are those Auror robes?"
"Um...yes..." Imogen confessed, feeling her cheeks warm. "I've...borrowed them."
"Have you really?"
"Yes. Um...they're my grandmother's..." Trying to shrug off just how awkward she felt, she told the wizard: "She wanted me to look smart, you see. For my interview. And um...well to be honest she's a bit eccentric..."
"All the best people are, I'm sure." Mr Selwyn smiled, gesturing for the witch to take a seat. "Let me see, that must make your grandmother...Nymphadora Lupin?"
"Um...yes..." Imogen said, not quite smiling as much as he did. As proud as she was to have Remus and Dora as grandparents, it could get a little tiring having people always being so interested by the fact that she was related to them. It wasn't as if they were really all that famous, they were simply known of and admired. Plenty of people had done good during the War and were admired for it. It seemed a bit excessive to make such a constant show of them, especially since they never made any show of themselves. To Imogen they were simply her grandparents, and her being related to them was not in the least bit interesting. It was simply a coincidence of her birth.
Nevertheless she was forced to go through the usual motions.
"And your grandfather would be Remus Lupin, then."
"Yes."
"Goodness me! You must be awfully proud of them."
"Yes, I am."
"I suppose you must know Mr Potter and the others."
"Yes, I do."
"Surrounded by heroes!"
"Yes, I suppose I am. But they're just...just Nana and Grandad and...and Harry and Co to me."
"Of course. Goodness, you must get very tired of people talking about them!"
"I suppose..." Imogen trailed off, smiling faintly, and Mr Selwyn gave a chuckle before reaching to pick up the application form from in front of him that Imogen had filled out just a short while earlier.
"Well then," he said, abruptly more serious. "Shall we get down to business? You say here you've been working...at the Leaky Cauldron?"
He fired questions at her in quick succession for a good twenty minutes, sounding increasingly disinterested by her answers despite her best efforts to make them interesting. Indeed, by the time the interview was drawing to a close, Imogen was beginning to suspect that it wasn't going particularly well and that he possibly didn't think much of her education, experiences or skills in the slightest.
He was downright abrupt, in fact. She only seemed to manage to get halfway through any of her answers before he was asking a new question and she found herself resorting to one word answers. Imogen wasn't entirely sure that she liked him very much. The only thing she did feel sure about was that jumping into this situation had really been a bit stupid...
"Yes, yes," he interrupted as the clock upon the fireplace neared half past the hour, leaving Imogen to trail off into silence midway through describing the many unusual potion recipes available for her to try out thanks to the Longbottoms' extensive collection of unusual and in many cases rare herbs and fungi, and the young witch was just feeling about ready to give up entirely when the wizard leant forward in his chair and told her:
"The most important question is of course, Miss Lupin: when can you start?"
Imogen stared at him in incomprehension. It took her a long while to manage to utter:
"P...pardon?"
"I must say I think it quite ridiculous!"
"It's been almost an hour!"
"What could be keeping her?"
"I expect she's ill. Which is understandable..."
"Yes, quite..."
"But she ought at least have said something!"
"Absolutely..."
Jasmine Wickes eyed the assembled Aurors and Obliviators with a deep frown before insisting:
"I'm sure Tonks'll be here any minute now! You know what it's like, she's probably been caught up speaking to the Magical Substances lot about that letter bomb..."
"For an hour!" one of the disgruntled Obliviators added, folding his arms firmly across his chest, and Jasmine sighed heavily, stomping up to the front so that she could snatch up the paperwork that she had set carefully down upon the desk some hour earlier.
"Well...perhaps we could just begin without her. Waiting is a waste of time, I'm sure we can organise this perfectly well on our own..."
The look upon the Head of Obliviators' face suggested that this suggestion was bordering on heretical.
"That is out of the question, Auror Wickes!" he announced, and Jasmine found herself asking:
"Why?! She doesn't even know who the bloody hell Brunswick is, let alone anything about our plans to catch him!"
"Where is she, anyway?" Albert Diggory inquired from his perch upon the edge of Xander Pikket's desk, and as he scribbled notes upon a haphazard sheet on parchment, Xander muttered:
"Probably passed out in the locker room from over exertion. Somebody should probably go and check..."
"She's FINE!" Jasmine insisted furiously, raking a frustrated hand through her hair. "Except she won't be when she comes back and finds us all sat around here doing sod all waiting for her! Let's just get on with it..."
"It was agreed that both Heads of Department would be present!" the Head of Obliviators insisted stubbornly. "I don't want any stupid mistakes, I know what will happen, it'll get pinned on us! And..."
"Oh for Merlin's sake!" Jasmine exclaimed, flinging the papers back down upon the desk and succeeding in sending them skidding off onto the floor in a flurry of parchment and ink. Doing her best to ignore the countless eyes staring at her, she turned on her heel and stormed off towards the nearest office, flinging open the door.
"Guvner!"
"Jasmine." Kingsley Shacklebolt acknowledged without looking up.
"D'you know the Brunswick case?"
"Pardon?"
"The Brunswick case! Do you know about it?!"
"I am...aware of it."
"Then you know a damn sight more than Tonks does!"
"Indeed."
"You'll have to do it."
"I'm sorry?"
"We're supposed to be having a meeting and Tonks isn't here."
"Tonks...isn't here?"
"No. She's...busy..."
"She's holding interviews within the hour, is she not?"
"I...she's...well...yes! Exactly! She's holding interviews, she hasn't got time for a meeting! I mean she's...she's...you know...!"
The look the Minister offered her suggested to Jasmine that he knew precisely where the Acting Head of Aurors was and precisely what she was busy with.
"Please," Jasmine mumbled, reaching to rake a frustrated hand through her hair. "I just...they're not listening to me...I'm not...not the Deputy...so..."
The Minister slowly eased himself up out of his chair.
"Who's with the cadets?" he asked as he set about rearranging the papers on the desk, and Jasmine felt her face warming.
"Um...well..."
"I believe Tonks left them solely in your charge?"
"Yes..."
"Get back to them, then."
"Yes...right..."
"I shall see to things here."
"Right...yes..." Jasmine turned and shuffled back towards the door, her shoulders slumped wearily, only to pause when the Minister called:
"Jasmine?"
"Yes Minister?" the Auror mumbled, glancing round.
"Good work." the Minister informed her quietly, and with that he dismissed her with a nod.
By the time Dora and Teddy arrived back at Auror Headquarters, Rovena Luga had been sat waiting in the corridor outside of the main office doors for some twenty minutes. She was not alone.
"You are late." Valbona Luga informed the Acting Head of Aurors frankly as Dora paused in her slow progression down the corridor to look at the aunt and niece sat side by side.
"I am, yes..." Dora agreed, trying not to sound as surprised as she felt to see the two of them together, and Teddy managed to sound impressively unfazed as he strode off down the corridor towards the break room, hand briefly gripping his mother by the elbow as he passed.
"Afternoon, Valbona!" he greeted briskly, and Valbona did not look away from Dora as she murmured:
"Afternoon, Ted."
"Tea, Boss?" Teddy called back once he was halfway down the corridor, and as Dora reached to straighten the fresh set of Auror robes she had hastily retrieved from home, she called:
"Please."
"Tea for three perhaps, Ms Luga?" Teddy suggested, and Rovena said:
"No..."
"Yes, please." Valbona interrupted, and Dora suggested:
"Make a pot, Ted."
"Certainly."
Almost as soon as Teddy had disappeared, Valbona again pointed out:
"You are late."
"Yes." Dora agreed again, turning her attention to Rovena. "Sorry to keep you waiting, as you can imagine the department is extremely busy right now..."
"You hurt." Valbona observed knowingly, only for Dora to ignore her.
"This way please, Ms Luga," she said, gesturing for Rovena to follow her as she turned to head slowly towards the office doors, leaning heavily upon her cane. "Thank you for coming at short notice, I shall only keep you a short while..." At the sound of Valbona standing, Dora glanced round to instruct: "You best wait out here, Val. Ted will be by with tea any minute."
As Valbona paused, Rovena's expression grew mildly panicked as she looked round at her aunt, only for Dora to insist:
"Come along then, let's get this over with."
"Dora..." Valbona began, her tone distinctly warning, only for Dora to look round at her again to instruct:
"Don't move a muscle, Valbona."
Dora laced the words with such warning of her own that it sounded almost like a threat. A threat of what, Valbona was not sure, but nevertheless she sunk back down into her chair, expression sour.
"I be right here when you come out." she told Rovena solemnly. "You will be fine."
"Of course she will." Dora agreed, glad to see drama snuffed out before it could begin. She didn't know precisely what had changed between Valbona and Rovena so suddenly, but whatever it was she did not want it interfering with her questioning. Valbona ought have known better than to think she could simply waltz in uninvited. Nevertheless Dora suspected the pair of them might wind up exchanging words later on.
For now, however, she tried her best to concentrate on Rovena.
She had popped home to freshen up and pull the smartest pair of Auror robes that she could find out of the back of her wardrobe. A step down from the ceremonial dress robes worn for special public occasions, these were the sort of robes one tended to dust off and don when trying to give the impression that one took the job exceptionally seriously and that nonsense would not be tolerated. These robes had the sort of crisp, pristine scarlet material and highly polished gold buttons that loudly proclaimed: Don't screw with me, sunshine!
Of course hobbling along in leg braces with the aid of a walking stick did somewhat tarnish the whole facade. But Dora at least felt slightly better for trying.
Rovena, at least, appeared to be a little intimidated. Her pace as she reluctantly followed Dora through the doors and through the office, where a large staff meeting appeared to be in full swing, was shuffling and made even Dora's progress towards the Head of Aurors' office seem positively brisk. As they passed the gathered Aurors and Obliviators, the Minister for Magic paused in his speech to offer Dora a nod. As their eyes briefly met, silent confirmation between the pair that all was well with their respective tasks, the other staff all looked round.
"Carry on, Minister!" Dora called, sounding undeniably amused to see him back doing a job he had left so many years previously, and at her nonchalance at having missed the meeting entirely the Head of Obliviators at the Minister's elbow shot her a disapproving scowl. Dora ignored him, instead choosing to land a hefty hand upon one Auror's shoulder as she passed, making the wizard in question jump as she snapped: "Constant Vigilance, Rod Hanslow! You look like you're about to drop off to sleep, for Merlin's sake!"
"Sorry, Boss." the Auror mumbled, but Dora was already heading for the office door, Rovena still shuffling after her.
Once they were inside, Dora closed the door firmly behind them and headed for the filing cabinets lining the left hand wall.
"Do take a seat." she said, and Rovena went to perch in the chair before the Head of Aurors' desk. She watched in silence for some time as Dora set about a brief but thorough search of a couple of the cabinets, snatching up a few files as she went, and when she dropped them upon the desk with a faint slap, the sound made Rovena jump. The younger witch watched the Auror ease herself down into Harry's tall backed leather chair, and as Dora set about examining the paperwork that she had selected in silence, Rovena began to fidget a little. When the silence became too much for her, she cleared her throat a little and told Dora:
"My Aunt Valbona tells me that you are a...a good friend of hers."
Dora gave a soft huff of amusement, reaching into a drawer to snatch up a fresh sheet of parchment.
"She is your aunt now, then?" she said, retrieving a quill from it's perch in the deep inkwell upon the desk. "Interesting."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Rovena wondered accusingly, eyes narrowing suspiciously as she watched Dora scrawl some notes upon the parchment, and once she had set the quill down, the Auror folded her hands carefully atop her notes and finally looked up at the raven-haired witch.
"Ms Luga," she said, voice the model of calm that Rovena was unable to muster, "I think perhaps I should make it very clear to you before we begin here: who or what your aunt or anybody else for that matter happens to be to me is entirely irrelevant to the Auror Department's current investigations. I am not easily swayed, I am not bias and you will do well to make no assumptions about me."
"I don't know what you're trying to say..." Rovena began defensively, sitting straighter in her chair in indigence, and Dora suggested:
"I could spell it out to you if you like."
"If you must."
"You are, understandably, nervous to have received summons from me this morning. Frightened, even. Which is entirely reasonable, nobody wants to be brought in here, sat down and bombarded with questions about all sorts of personal and difficult things. But asking Valbona to accompany you here simply because you hope she might carry a lot of clout with me or I might owe her a favour or two is wildly misguided and downright cruel. You couldn't stand the sight of her yesterday, I very much doubt you can stand the sight of her now. Making her think otherwise is disgraceful and it won't get you anywhere."
Rovena said nothing. Dora felt quite disgusted. Nevertheless she forced herself to tell the interviewee:
"Listen, Rovena...may I call you Rovena?"
Rovena gave a single, distinctly icy nod.
"Rovena I am not here to be unfair, unnecessarily unkind or unreasonable. I am simply here to ask you some questions so that I might come to a better understanding of Jeff and where perhaps you fit into his life. I'm not going to lie to you, there are nice ways of doing this and there are some far less nice ways. But you need only cooperate with me and I am sure we shall get on here perfectly well. Alright? Shall we begin?"
Rovena gave another nod. Dora made a show of rearranging the papers for a moment in order to examine the young witch more closely. She had good posture, sitting upright in her chair, legs crossed carefully in front of her, the sort of generic well-practiced pose that was both confident and guarded. There was something somewhat stiff about her limbs, however. Dora could tell that she was nervous, which made the Auror wonder just what the cause of her nerves could be. Of course many people would be nervous to be sat in this room no matter what the circumstances, but Dora suspected Rovena to be not like 'many people'. Her mother would have afforded her a good education one way or another. Even if money was short now there had been plenty of it at one time, probably when Rovena had been of school-age. And these old, proud wizarding families would never send their children to any old school or hire any old tutor. They would make sure their children had nothing but the best. Children like that were rarely entirely stupid. They would know that there was no need to be afraid.
Unless they had something to hide, that was.
Yes indeed, Dora was certain that Rovena Luga was hiding something. And come hell or high water, Dora was going to find out what that something was...
"Let's start with some basics." the Acting Head of Aurors decided, retrieving her quill. "How long have you been in Britain?"
"I arrived when I was eleven. Shortly after my father died."
"And have you been back to Albania since then?"
"No."
"How do you like it here?"
"I like it well enough."
"Would you go back and live in Albania, given the choice?"
"Merlin, no!" Rovena's nose wrinkled at the notion, and Dora saw that the answer to her question here was clearly an absolute no brainer.
"I've never been to Albania." Dora told her, still scribbling notes. "But I'm told the countryside is beautiful. The beaches, in particular..." she trailed off, pausing to look up and gage the Albanian's reaction to this assessment of her homeland, but Rovena was entirely unmoved.
"I spent a good six months liaising with the Albanian Auror Department some years back." Dora went on, smiling faintly at the memory and yet studying the young witch's face intently. "Spoke to them on a daily basis...good people, I rather liked them. Very focused. Very...efficient, no nonsense..."
"Harsh." Rovena corrected, fidgeting in her seat, and when Dora hmmed in consideration she insisted: "They're like that, the Albanian wizarding community. Especially the...the old families, the pure bloods. Bunch of...of stuck up, self-important snobs, stuck in their old fashioned little bubble! I can't stand them! They're so judgemental! You can't possibly imagine..."
"Oh I think I could." Dora murmured, thinking of Rovena's mother and grandmother. Indeed, Rovena herself...
The Auror was forced to cough to cover a huff of amusement.
"Perhaps we're rather drifting off topic." she decided, having drawn a number of conclusions from their exchange nevertheless. "You are now living here with your mother and grandmother."
"Yes."
"Your grandmother being...Roza Luga."
"Yes."
"The British Auror Department have had their eye on her for some time, I see."
"She's done nothing wrong!"
"She and your mother have rather drawn attention to themselves, it would seem."
"The Ministry's accusations are entirely unfounded!"
"I see."
"It's ridiculous! It really is..."
"I see."
"It's...it's blatant discrimination!"
"Really?"
"Yes! It's...it's racism!"
"You believe the Ministry have accused your family of practicing Dark Magic purely because they are Albanian?"
"Exactly!"
"You are telling me you believe the British Ministry of Magic is a...racist institution?"
"Yes!"
There was a sizeable pause as Rovena drew in a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself, and Dora frowned down at her notes for a long moment before reaching to dip her quill into the inkwell, murmuring:
"I see." She scrawled another line of notes upon the parchment in baffling short hand that Rovena could not decipher no matter how hard she squinted, before setting the quill down so that she could fold her hands carefully upon the desk in front of her. She regarded Rovena seriously for a long moment before pointing out: "You know, that is a rather serious accusation to make, Ms Luga."
Rovena opened her mouth to speak, only to close it again.
"The Ministry takes such accusations extremely seriously." Dora explained, dark eyes piercing. "If you truly feel that way there are official procedures in place to allow for complaints of that nature..."
"No..."
"I'm sorry?"
"I said no. I...I mean I don't want to make any sort of complaint! I just...I was just trying to explain! My family are entirely innocent!"
Dora raised an eyebrow.
"Fair enough." she said, reaching to adjust the papers upon the desk. "You do surprise me though, I must say..."
"Why?" Rovena asked dully, folding her arms defensively across her chest. "What's the point of complaining to anyone? It wouldn't get me anywhere! Would you bother, if you were me?"
"Oh yes," Dora said, lips twitching towards a smile. "I'd not stop complaining! If I thought what was happening was unjust I would fight tooth and nail for my beliefs. I've made a habit of it throughout my life. I would have complained months ago, if I were you. And if nobody listened to me I wouldn't stick around here either. I'd not want to live in a country governed by a regime so rife with injustice! If I couldn't change it I'd be back off to Albania at the drop of a hat!" The Auror leant forward in her seat a bit, staring at the witch opposite her intently as she mused: "And yet...here you are..."
"Maybe I'm not like you..." Rovena mumbled, only for Dora to point out:
"You're a Luga. You're enough like me, I'd wager. And if you won't stand up for your family against the Ministry or just return to the safety of Albania, that of course means one of two things. Either you are nothing like the other members of your family at all, which is unlikely given what I have seen of you so far. Or, as is increasingly likely looking at these files I have here, your family is in fact guilty as sin and you know that when it comes to accusing the Ministry of being unfair you don't have a leg to stand on."
Rovena's expression was utterly outraged. Dora remained entirely non-plussed as she looked down to examine a new file, deciding: "Let's move on, shall we? Tell me about Jeff. How long have you known him? How did the two of you meet?"
The outrage faded from Rovena's face as she carefully composed herself. She took half a second too long about it and consequently it did not escape Dora's notice in the slightest.
"I've known him for about three years." Rovena said, sitting straighter in her chair. "We met in a club in London."
The office door swung slowly open and Teddy appeared, levitating a tray of tea carefully across the threshold. As he silently set the tray down upon the desk between the two witches, Dora's eyes flickered only briefly sideways to look at him before she turned her attention back to Rovena, leaving Teddy to disappear back out the door without a word.
"Which club might that have been?"
"One of the cheap ones, I suppose. He couldn't afford anywhere better and I was...curious, I suppose. It was the one in the little side road off Diagon Alley...in a basement..."
"Hexx." Dora identified, much to the younger witch's clear surprise, and the old Auror offered the girl a raised eyebrow and pointed out: "Hexx has been there forever and I was young once too, you know. And even when I wasn't I've raided that place with the Aurors half a dozen times. Charming atmosphere, interesting clientèle...used to attract young banshees back in the Nineties, they had to turn the music up extra loud just in case anyone screamed and made somebody drop dead off their bar stool..."
Rovena's nose wrinkled.
"Well I only went there the once!" she insisted indignantly, and Dora pressed:
"And you met Jeff there."
"Yes. He was there with his girlfriend at the time. It was her eighteenth birthday so they had gone there with some friends for a night out. Obviously she was expecting some place a bit more impressive but Jeff's barely got two sickles to rub together so he ended up taking her there. She threw a strop with him about it...so he left her to it. That's when I saw him sitting at the bar. I thought I'd...you know...give him a try! Not that I had to try all that hard. Before long he'd left the birthday girl with her friends and come home with me."
"Love at first sight, was it?" Dora wondered dryly, not expecting any sort of answer as she retrieved a cup of tea and took a sip, instead asking: "You've been together ever since, have you?"
"On and off."
"And...now...?"
Rovena gave a huff.
"We're off. Obviously."
"What sort of a boyfriend was he? How did he treat you?"
Rovena leant back in her seat, crossing her arms across her chest.
"He was alright." she mumbled evasively, and at the stare she was offered in response she consented to mumbling: "It was nothing serious between us, it was just...convenient. It was more of an arrangement than a...a proper relationship."
"An arrangement?"
"Yes...it was...just...you know..."
"It was a casual relationship."
"Yes."
"I see."
An expectant silence descended upon the room until Rovena was forced to sigh and continue.
"Look," she said, shifting uneasily in her seat. "He's a Squib, they're all a bit odd if you ask me, but not...not crazy! Not...not blow-up-buildings sort of crazy, at least! I had no idea about...about any of that! To me he was just...just Jeff! He was normal enough! He was very nice to me most of the time!"
Dora, still very much staring, leant forward a little in her chair. Rovena felt her mouth begin to go dry.
"He was very nice to you most of the time?"
"Y...yes, that's what I said!"
"And what about the rest of the time? What about when he wasn't very nice?"
"I didn't mean..." Rovena began, only for the Auror to insist:
"Yes you did. Nobody is very nice all the time, Ms Luga, believe me."
Rovena look a moment to frown at her shoes. Then she took a turn at scowling before sighing heavily.
"He has a temper. A short one, if you rub him up the wrong way."
"I see."
"He can...snap."
"And what happened, Ms Luga, when he snapped?"
"Not much. He didn't stand a chance." Rovena's expression grew abruptly smug and at the inquiring look Dora offered her she seemingly took some pleasure in pointing out: "He can try and lay his hands on me all he likes, Mrs Lupin. But when push comes to shove he's a powerless little Squib and I'm the one with the wand in my pocket!"
"And did he try?"
"Oh yes, quite often. Frequently in fact in the last few months after that silly march of his went badly. He'd push me, trip me, punch me..."
"And did you retaliate?"
"Not really. I could hex him into the middle of next week in the blink of an eye. It only takes a moment for him to remember all that. Then he's nothing but sweet!"
"Hm." Dora murmured, scribbling fresh notes, and as she watched the Auror at work Rovena took a turn at leaning forward in her chair, gaze probing.
"Worried about that granddaughter of yours?" she wondered, sounding yet more smug. "She doesn't have a wand now, does she?"
"I'll ask the questions, thank you." Dora replied calmly, sounding remarkably unmoved, though if Rovena had paid attention for half a second longer she might have caught a twitch in the Auror's jaw.
"Did you know about Pandora and her relationship with Jeff?"
"I had a hunch. Jeff never said anything, but I knew she liked him, she was always staring at him every time I saw her. And then of course I know what he likes."
"How did you feel about them?"
"How do you mean?" Rovena's eyebrows knitted together in confusion and Dora very nearly frowned herself at the utterly meaningless nature of the relationship between this witch and Wizarding Britain's Most Wanted man.
"Were you upset?"
"No, not really. She's a silly little girl, he'd get bored of her in no time at all! Why would he stick with a schoolgirl when he can have me instead? I know just what he likes...how he likes it...she'd probably never been kissed!"
"You felt no inclination whatsoever to intervene between the two of them? You knew full well, if you are so sure he would grow bored of her, that he was just using her, but you didn't say anything?"
"It's none of my business."
"Your boyfriend starts an intimate affair with a sixteen year old schoolgirl and you seemingly make no reaction to it whatsoever."
"It's none of my business."
"You feel no sense of moral obligation regarding that scenario at all?"
Rovena merely stared blankly, as if she did not entirely understand what point Dora was attempting to make. At her silence, Dora concluded somewhat ominously:
"I see."
"You can't pin that on me!" Rovena protested furiously, eyes widening quite madly as Dora took a long sip of her tea. "You can't blame me for that!"
"I'm not pinning anything on you, Ms Luga."
"It wasn't my fault! It wasn't anything to do with me! It's not my fault she's a little skank and he decided he wanted her!"
"I...see..."
"What?!" Rovena gave a snort, lips twisting into a sneer. "Have I offended you?! Just because she's your granddaughter doesn't mean she can't be a skank!"
Dora took another sip of her tea until she had drained her teacup, before setting it firmly back down upon the desk.
"I'm sure you're quite right." the Auror agreed mildly. "Grandmothers can be terribly biased, I'm sure your own grandmother could easily confirm your theory..."
Rovena's mouth dropped open a little in outrage at this fleeting insult, but Dora merely insisted:
"Now, tell me more about Jeff. What did he like to do in his spare time? Any hobbies, things he was particularly interested in?"
Rovena gawped at the Auror for long moment before shaking her head impatiently.
"Oh, I don't know! Just...things!"
"What sort of things?"
"He...well he was always at his silly little Squib club! He didn't have much time for anything else! Or money, for that matter! There's only so much you can scrounge off your girlfriend, you know!"
"You gave him money?"
"I...well yes! Sometimes...just...you know!"
"I see. So he didn't really have many hobbies?"
"Not really, no! He used to read a lot! He was always reading..."
"What sort of things did he read? Fiction? Non-fiction..."
"Factual stuff. He was interested in history. Wars, battles, typical male things!"
"Muggle or Wizarding wars?"
"Both, I suppose."
"Interesting..."
"Is it?"
"And did he ever show any particular interest in any historical leaders? Any particular people...?"
Rovena frowned deeply, shaking her head again.
"I don't see what this has to do with anything." she pointed out irritably, still flustered from Dora's earlier insult, and the Auror smiled ever so slightly and insisted:
"It has everything to do with everything, believe me Ms Luga. I've been doing this since before you were born. Did he ever mention the Order of the Phoenix to you?"
Rovena sighed heavily, slumping back in her chair.
"Maybe? I don't really know!"
"He did not, for example, mention the Phoenix Day Parade in relation to his own plans for the Squib Pride March?"
"It's possible! He mentioned it was Albus Dumbledore's birthday once, rambled a bit about what a great man he'd been. But he's never been to the Phoenix Day Parade. It's too far for him to travel unless someone agreed to apparate him!"
Dora was silent for a long moment, lips pressed firmly together in consideration. She could recall Remus mentioning Jeff's praise for the Order and his keen interest in the Order's activities during the War. It made Dora feel ever so slightly uneasy, yet she could not entirely put her finger on why...
"Do you know his family? His...mother, for example?"
"No."
"You've never met any of his relations at all?"
"No. He's only got a mother, I think, and I've no interest in meeting her."
"Did he ever mention his mother to you?"
"No. I'm not sure he even sees her at all."
"They are perhaps not on good terms with one another?"
"He's a Squib! What mother could be on entirely good terms with a waste of space like that?"
"Indeed."
Dora reached into a drawer to pull out a fresh sheet of parchment, and as she scrawled a fresh title atop the page Rovena sighed and wondered:
"Shall we be here much longer?"
"Only as long as it takes, Ms Luga." Dora insisted amicably, and Rovena reached despairingly for her now luke-warm cup of tea.
"I rather get the impression that you don't think a whole lot of Squibs, Ms Luga." Dora told her, raising an eyebrow. "It makes your choice of boyfriend somewhat interesting..."
"Squibs are useless for a whole lot of things," Rovena explained nonchalantly. "But there's nothing wrong with them for some things." Though she managed to avoid any vulgar language, the young witch managed to sound crude nevertheless.
"You would overlook Jeff's being a Squib for the sake of a handsome face and...other skills, then."
"Exactly."
"You would also overlook his questionable morality concerning Pandora."
"Obviously."
"You would overlook the fact that he is violent towards you."
"I...well..."
"I would not be surprised to hear that you would overlook his extremist beliefs or indeed his fondness for arson."
Rovena's mouth dropped open, any reply dying before it could even reach her tongue. Then, to her bemusement, the Auror seemingly changed the subject entirely.
"Do you have many friends in Britain?" Dora asked, reaching to re-examine some of the papers, and Rovena gawped at her for another long moment before mumbling:
"Well I...a few, I suppose..."
"Good friends? People you can rely on?"
"Well they're...alright..."
"I see. What does your mother think of them?"
"She's...she's not met any of them."
"Why not?"
"I don't know. They're probably...probably not her sort!"
Dora leant back in her seat, frowning a little to adjust her legs under the table, the metal braces making the movement unreasonably stiff.
"Lack of magic aside, I bet Jeff's exactly her sort." she commented conversationally, and when Rovena's face began to contort furiously she reasoned: "He was my sort. Seemed like a very nice young man, we all thought. Perhaps that's rather false now, but he's managed to maintain a good quality or two. He certainly says what he means and means what he says. You can't knock that, you know. It's...reliable. You can depend upon a man like Jeff Fawley. To do what, I dread to think, but he's dependable all the same."
Rovena remained mute.
"If I were you," Dora went on, turning a page of the file she was examining, glancing briefly up to look at the younger witch, "I'd find him difficult to shake off."
Again, Rovena was silent.
"If I wanted more than anything than to stay where I was...if I knew my family was in the wrong and was bound to get packed off back to Albania any time soon...if I was lacking true friends and was feeling desperate, I'd put my money on a man like Jeff Fawley. He's the only link you have left to Britain, isn't he? You were relying on him to keep you here. Now he's gone off the rails, what're you going to do? Nothing much, it seems. You let him treat you terribly, you let any morality you had go down the pan so as not to come into any conflict with him whatsoever, you've been supporting him financially for years, you're still relying on him even now..."
"I told you already!" Rovena insisted shrilly, eyes widening madly. "It's over between the two of us! I haven't seen him in ages!"
"When did you last see him?" Dora asked soberly, and Rovena sucked in a deep, calming breath before recalling:
"The night before the explosion in Diagon Alley. We spent the night together, I paid for a room in a hotel in London. When I woke up he was gone."
"How was he, that night?"
Rovena cleared her throat meaningfully.
"Enthusiastic." she said, very nearly smirking again. "More than usual, I mean. A bit too enthusiastic, I suppose. He did seem very cheerful and...confident..."
"Did he mention his plans? Give any hint of what was to come?"
"Not really. He just said...things were looking up!"
"I see." Dora went back to examining papers, lips pursed into a thin line. Overall she had learnt quite a lot from the interview so far, and yet...
It wasn't enough. She could have guessed most of it given time. She needed something else, something new, something to send the Aurors down a fresh path...
She scowled at the papers, her patience beginning to wear thin, then...
It was staring her right in the face.
The papers, the oldest records the Ministry had on Rovena's entry to the country with her relatives, contained a full inventory of what the family had brought with them, as had been customary for the time at the International Floo Network's immigration procedure.
"Tell me, Ms Luga," the Acting Head of Aurors inquired, slowly setting the papers back down upon the table so that she could fix the witch sat opposite her with a distinctly piercing look. "Do either you or a member of your immediate family happen to own something as rare and valuable as an invisibility cloak?"
Rovena Luga visibly paled.