Chapter 5. Letters from the shadows
DMLE head's office, ministry of magic, August 2nd 1993
Amelia Bones hated Mondays. Even before saddling herself with honorable yet grueling duties of the director for magical law enforcement, she did not understand people's obsession with coming to work, hearing new instructions or seeing new papers to fill, and throwing themselves into rat's wheel til Friday. Nor did she jump in excitement upon learning about a real rat captured in the holding cells from a passing undersecretary. When, upon entering her office, madam Bones found a letter with the scent of the unspeakables all over it, her hate for Mondays skyrocketed, rivaled maybe only by dismay for incompetent aurors, for a half of current contingent appeared to be just that. The mysterious letter, written in the tidiest script she had ever seen, read:
To the director of the DMLE,
Apologies for consuming your precious time. it came to our attention that Peter Pettigrew, dangerous criminal responsible for at least 12 deaths between year 1977 and 1981, was posing as a pet rat of Ronald Weasley, age 13, for at least three years. in addition, Sirius Black, accused by Pettigrew himself of aforementioned murders, had served 12 years (until his escape) in Azkaban prison high security cell, without a trial (report of his conviction attached). We strongly advise to recall mr Black's kiss on sight order as soon as possible. We offer our full support on organizing trials for Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black. The former is an (unregistered) animagus with a form of common garden rat, treat him with extreme caution. The latter is also an (unregistered) animagus with a form of a black dog. We strongly recommend for any auror, hitwizard, or government person, to refrain from using force to detain mr Black. Please send your reply at your earliest convenience.
Sincerely, designation Goldcrest, DOM
Amelia sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Behind all the unspeakable jargon, the letter said only one thing: "hey you up there, who managed to royally mess up everything again! Clean up as soon as possible, or else!" the mysterious informant had literally laid bare every flaw of the ministry before her. to top it all, he or she had somehow done half of the work the aurors were supposed to do, bringing Pettigrew straight to the holding cells. Since when, she wondered, did the unspeakables get interested in the happenings of anything above their department? Why was both the previous and recent ministers so out of reality as to hold an innocent locked up for twelve damn years? why, for Merlin's sake, did her aurors stoop so low as to make the department of mysteries more suitable for protection? The questions were endless, the answers just none, and the workload for that week seemed like a nightmare. Archives to scout, wizengamot emergency meeting to call (in the middle of summer?), trials to organize, heads to set rolling… the list went on and on. Yes, Amelia Bones really hated Mondays, and the incompetent governments.
Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, August 23rd 1993
Albus Dumbledor, the esteemed headmaster of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, was about to start the usual pre-term staff meeting. Fortunately, this time there were no doom and gloom news: the minister's demands for a hundred dementors on the grounds, for protection from Sirius Black, died down mere days after starting. The man somehow got himself a trial, where Peter Pettigrew, true traitor and murderer, was sentenced to the veil of death. So, it promissed to finally be a quiet year dedicated only to teaching and learning.
With that thought, Dumbledor prepared to deliver his usual pre-term speech wen out of a sudden, three letters floated through the open window. One landed on Hagrid's lap, the second sailed towards Minerva Mcgonagle's table, the third came straight to him. No bird, magical or not, would be able to deliver mail so discretely, let alone be invisible. the only ecxplanation everyone came up with was the involvement of an outsider, possibly a house elf. The letters themselves were far from standard too, encased in muggle envelopes, without a return address. no one dared even glancing at them; by now everyone had learned about what was called "a letter from the shadows" by the ministry aurors, and the clean-up of the century that followed. The last thing Hogwarts needed was something similar, just before the start of term.
Finally, Hagrid recovered enough to open his envelope. Inside there lay two sheets, one of parchment, the other of paper, one baring some official document, the other reading the following:
Dear Rubius,
Congratulations on making it into the staff! Now, if you were waiting for praises, you will be very disappointed. Read carefully and don't get too offended, for my advice is for your own good. First, get some normal clothes you troglodyte! No offense, but if you continue wearing that hunter-gatherer's outfit, students, more so the Slytherins, will see you as such. Second, stop pretending to not being allowed to use magic. In the sheet attached, you will find your exhonoration paper, backed up by the unspeakables. Also, drinking like a fish doesn't suit the cultured Brittish, you know, nor does the Hog's head style slir you use as English. So heed my advice, get a proper wand, quit drinking, and best of luck in your job.
Sirius Black
While Hagrid, blushing like Hogwarts express, kept throwing incredulous looks at his letter (why did Sirius I never grow up Black of all people, write him with good will, let alone send enclosed the ticket back to the magical world?) Minerva Mcgonagle, stern as always. Tore open her own envelope. The letter, written in Sirius's unmistakable messy scrawl, read:
Dear aunty Minny,
How are the preparations for a new term going? Are you ready to keep giving detentions left and right as always? Fear not, for this year there will be one less detentionist to watch for. Please accept the one and only, my godson Harry's Hogsmeade permition form. All legal and neet huh? To add to the security, or whatever you call it, I'm also sending my elf to prevent Harry from… getting detentions. Good luck with the coming term, and cheer up!
With all due respect,
Sirius Black the detentionist
"he'll never grow up, will he?" – Mcgonagle sighed, extracting the second sheet from the envelope. It was a standard Hogsmeade permission slip, neatly filled and properly signed. Having nothing more to worry about, the stern professor turned her attention to the recipient of last letter – Dumbledor, who was pale not unlike his office walls, reading and re-reading the sheet of muggle paper. "what is it, headmaster?" – she asked timidly, fearing to hear another taunting message from her former cause of so many headaches. "an employment request…" – Dumbledor breathed out, not quite lifting his head. everyone, except maybe professor severus Snape, sighed in relief; someone was coming at last, to replace Filch or Bins or Trilawny, in truth no one cared which one. "…from a house elf…" – the headmaster rasped, sensing his staff's shift in mood. "and no, it's not Dobby". The realization hit Mcgonagle like a train: another excentric elf, from what she had overheard (literally holding Sirius Black on a leash, even in his animagus form, was not only excentric but unusual, strange, weird and downright outlandish) was seeking work at Hogwarts. The last thing they needed to top their quiet year was unknown, qualified, paper waving, letter writing creature with the weirdest name in Britain (knowing Sirius, it was very likely she was an outsider) turning their perfect school upside down. Sadly, Dumbledor seemed inclined to take the offer, what with all the promises from Sirius to protect Potter and help Hagrid… there seemed to be no other choice but wait and see how, as countless examples showed, the school year gets…interesting once again.
A few hours later in the Three Broomsticks, the only restaurant in Hogsmeade with good reputation, a wizard and his house elf patted each other's shoulders for a work well done. Letters from the shadows, the title Alexa came up with, had an immediate effect on all three people they were addressed to. The cunning creature even insisted on watching the reactions, with a promise for Marcus to show the memory, and was now bouncing in her seat in apparent excitement. She will work at Hogwarts, for real this time, not only pretending to be busy while devouring all the knowledge there was, learning and testing and discussing with students. no, she will assist whoever needed assistance, protect whoever saught protection; gods, she will change old Hoggy for the better! These changes, ever so suttle but noticeable, started already happening, if Hagrid, standing proudly outside Gladrags in his new menagerie worker's outfit, and exhausted Dumbledor slinking into the post office, a bunch of official-looking documents in hand, was any indication. Indeed, the year promised to be quite calm but interesting.