Chapter 22: Off the Case

Only a few hours later, after having dispatched a Magic Reversal Squad, Amelia found herself once again sitting in Barty Crouch's office. This time, however, she was not being offered a new job or having her skills praised. Feeling like a child visiting the headmaster, Amelia sat before his desk, whilst Crouch paced up and down the room, lecturing her about all the problems she had caused.

"And by the time Magic Reversal got there," Crouch was saying, "sixteen policemen had become involved. That's sixteen memories that required wiping, Ms Bones, do you have any idea how much money that costs?"

Amelia looked down at her shoes.

"Sorry, Sir," she whispered.

"Not only this," her superior continued, "but I hear you sent an agent into a highly volatile situation, an agent who was not part of your unit."

"Alice Longbottom volunteered," Amelia replied, "I don't want her involved in this, but she did put her own name forward. Her unit didn't need her, so she lent a hand. I assure you, Sir, we did an extensive amount of risk assessment."

"Bones," he said, slamming both his palms down on the desk, "there is paperwork for this sort of thing."

"And the paperwork is coming," Amelia said, "I guarantee it will get to you soon."

Crouch glared at her.

"The usual procedure is to hand in paperwork before going ahead."

Amelia straightened up, looking him directly in the eyes. He had to know how important it was.

"There was no time, Sir," she insisted, "We had real evidence that something was going on and it was essential that it was acted upon."

"Your secretary has filled me in on your apparent evidence," Crouch said, clearly not convinced, "There was a napkin, Ms Bones, a single napkin and a bucket load of conjecture. Since when has that justified a dangerous undercover operation?"

Amelia closed her eyes, trying extremely hard not to let out an audible sigh. The thing was, she was tired, and the more he said, the more he sounded correct and the more ridiculous the whole plan had seemed. The clue theory was a massive shot in the dark, it had been from the very start. But that shot had been right on target, hadn't it? Amelia shifted in her chair; she couldn't give up fighting yet.

"Sir, I will concede that we cut some corners," she said, "and we shouldn't have done that. I will take full responsibility for any of the repercussions. But there was every indication that that house was going to be full of potential Death Eaters and I was not going to ignore it."

"But there were no Death Eaters, were there?" Crouch said with a sigh, "Only a geriatric Muggle woman who was terrified out of her wits."

"I'm positive that she had been recently Confunded," Amelia tried, "That's probably how her house was taken over so easily. Please, Sir, if my team could just have a little more time-"

"-no," Crouch interrupted, "You've been given plenty of time, more time than would normally would be given for a case with so little tangible evidence. Your unit moves on to something else, Ms Bones, and count yourselves lucky that nothing more serious is being done."

His silence seemed to indicate that the discussion was over. Amelia stood up slowly, feeling like there was still so much she could have said. She started to leave.

"Ms Bones," Crouch said quietly.

He had sat back down at his desk and was not looking at her fully as he spoke.

"I'm going to need a response very soon," he said, "in regards the job."

Amelia started.

"Sorry?" she said, in a ruder voice than she had intended.

She had figured that the last half-hour of criticism had been a confirmation that the position of Office Head was no longer available to her. Crouch seemed to guess her line of thought, because he offered her a small smile.

"One misstep, Bones, that's all it was," he said, "I'm not going to write you off completely because of it."

Amelia left his office feeling confused and angry, not particularly helpful emotions. She was sure, if they only had a bit more time, that they could find something more solid. Though, she had to admit, the evidence was slim. There was the napkin, yes, and the conversation that Alice had had with Darius Finch. But the words Death Eater or Dark Lord had not been mentioned at any point during that conversation. If asked, Finch would be smart enough to deny it and make up some other story. There was the testimony of Rowan, but Amelia hadn't seen or heard from her since that day at the bar. Besides, she was sure that some people within the Ministry would not see the words of a prostitute as conclusive.

She arrived back at her desk and slumped down in her chair with a groan. Gideon, Frank, Fabian and Dolores were all sitting around, looking anxious. As she sat down, Amelia noticed Dolores trying to catch her eye. She deliberately avoided it. The others stayed silent for a while, as if unsure whether to question their leader about what had happened. Eventually, Frank gave Fabian a nudge and a pointed stare. The latter gave a sigh.

"What happened up there?" he asked.

"Well," Amelia said, in an falsely cheerful tone, "Crouch just gave me a detailed overview of all the money we wasted achieving nothing."

"That is so unfair," Frank complained.

"But he's got a point," Amelia sighed, "Unfortunately."

"So what do we do now?" Gideon said.

"We move on," Amelia replied, "We're off the case."

Frank looked outraged, as did Fabian, who was clenching his fists to keep from hitting something. Dolores threw a worried look at Gideon, who was looking more mutinous than anyone had probably ever seen.

"But we're not finished," he said softly, his tone dangerous.

"What's Crouch playing at?" Frank exclaimed, "Did you show him the evidence?"

Dolores nodded nervously and Amelia let her head fall backwards.

"He didn't seem to think that a napkin was substantial enough," Amelia sighed.

"Are you kidding?" Fabian yelled, "So, Mitchie is in the Spell Damage Ward because he just fancied a nice wee break? And how about Rowan, risking her life to bring us information?"

"And what about Alice!" Frank added.

"I'm sorry," Amelia answered, her voice completely genuine, "It wasn't my call."

Gideon, still looking angry, stood up and walked away, with Dolores hurrying quickly after him. Fabian continued to argue, Frank backing him up with indignant looks. Amelia interrupted him.

"Well you're going to have to," she snapped, when Fabian declared his intentions not to stop working on the case, "Those are the orders from the top and we are contractually obligated to listen."

Frank gave a sigh and nodded, standing up and going to his own cubicle. Amelia knew he wanted to keep going, if only because he felt like he needed to show Alice that her risking her life had been worth it. But, knowing Alice, she would understand, probably better than Frank, if truth be told. Fabian did not back down; Amelia had not expected him to. He simply stayed seated staring at her. She pretended to ignore him for a few seconds, pointlessly shuffling through the files that had accumulated on her desk. Then she jerked her head upwards, glaring at him.

"Go and do something else," she hissed in a low voice.

He didn't move. Amelia didn't want to sigh in front of him; she didn't want to be in front of him full stop. Fabian was her partner, her best friend, but recently she was finding it hard to be around him without wanting to cry or yell. She could still feel his fingers touching hers and it was confusing her to the point of insanity.

"I've been thinking," Fabian said finally.

"Well, there's a first time for everything," Amelia muttered.

It was an unkind comment and her tone lacked the light quality to make it a joke. Fabian frowned, clearly a little taken aback by his partner's remark.

"Anyway," he said with some caution, "I've been thinking. And the only possible way that Finch could've known we were coming is if somebody tipped him off."

Amelia didn't answer him.

"And the only people who could have known we were coming," Fabian said, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "are inside this building."

Amelia flicked him a sharp glance. The thoughts had been floating through her mind too. But they were off the case now, there was nothing they could do. And Amelia did not want to be turned against her co-workers, even though she knew there would be traitors amongst them.

"Fabian," she said in a warning voice.

"Amelia," Fabian said, pulling his chair closer, "look at the facts. If we have managed to infiltrate the Death Eaters, it follows that they have people working here."

He looked around, a little furtively, and reached into his pocket, pulling out the small, black leather notebook that Amelia had often seen him scribbling in.

"I have a few theories," he said, opening the book up.

Amelia didn't want to hear it. She slammed her hand down on the book.

"Fabian," she said quietly, "I don't want to hear it."

"Well, you're going to have to hear it," Fabian said, his voice uncharacteristically harsh, "It's happening and I -"

"We can't just turn on one another," Amelia hissed.

Fabian's expression was a mix of disbelief and pure, cold anger.

"Do you think I like this?" he said, "Do you think I want to have to suspect our friends and colleagues?"

"I don't know what you want anymore," Amelia shot back.

She regretted saying it the moment it had slipped out of her mouth. Fabian's mouth was slightly open, though whether he realized or not Amelia wasn't sure. She stood up abruptly and started pulling on her coat; she didn't want to have this conversation with Fabian right now. Her mind was swimming with Death Eaters and Fabian and jobs and evidence and traitors and Fabian. It was all a colossal jumble of things she couldn't work out. She had to leave, to get into the fresh air, to get away. She just didn't trust herself to speak anymore.

"What d'you mean?" Fabian demanded, twisting in his seat as Amelia rushed off to the lifts.

She ignored him.

"Where are you going?" he called.

"Out," Amelia said, not turning around.