"No, not while I'm in a gown," Rachel told Dingbat firmly.
Dingbat meowed and made another pass, trying to climb on Rachel.
"I said no. I know you know that word. Stop. You are going to get fur all over me. I will hold you when I get back tonight."
The cat sat and looked up at her, giving another cry.
Feverfew poked her head in the room, clearly trying to determine why Dingbat was upset.
"Yes, you take her, please. I need to finish my hair," Rachel said, turning her attention back to her mirror, where she was using a spell to define her curls so she could pull them back neatly. She had tried cutting her hair shorter, but as she'd suspected her curls tightened even more when her hair was shorter. Now she wore her hair down her back, it nearly met her waist when it was wet, and she kept it tied up most of the time.
"Do we know who is attending tonight? Is this a Ministry thing or a Wizengamot thing?" Theo asked from her doorway.
"Ministry. Amelia will be there, so will Alwen. Probably Patrick if they can pull him away from his research for long enough," Rachel said, gathering her hair and bundling it together before twisting it around and placing a clawed pin in it. She looked at herself from either side, making sure none of the strands had escaped. "Does this look alright?"
"Looks fine," Theo said. "You look beautiful, just as you always do."
She turned and gave him a look. "I hope I don't look just as I always do. I'm dressed up."
Theo shrugged. "I suppose what I'm trying to say is that it doesn't matter to me what you're wearing, or how you do your hair. You look beautiful to me."
Rachel flushed. "We'll see what you say after I've been sweating over a boiling cauldron for three hours. Besides, I'm not trying to look beautiful, I'm trying to look presentable."
"You definitely look presentable," he assured her. "I'm not sure why you're worried."
"Whenever we go to these things I always feel like I'm pretending," she said, turning back to the mirror and adjusting her glasses. She had never worked up the nerve to do the procedure to have her eyes reshaped. It was a silly thing, and she wasn't afraid of the pain, but the healers kept a person unconscious while they did it. It was the same thing with regrowing her scapula. She didn't like the idea of being helpless during the procedure, nor having her movement restricted for weeks afterward.
"Pretending in what way?" Theo asked.
"To be an adult. To be like them. I had kind of hoped that I would feel more like an adult as I got older and did more things." She decided that this was as good as it was going to get. At the very least she wouldn't embarrass herself. Her gown was a deep purple tonight, with a medium full skirt and comfortable across the bodice. It was cut to rest just beneath her collarbone, which was modest enough for her, though at various balls and functions she'd been to over the years, she'd seen gowns that were cut a fair bit lower.
Theo was in dark blue dress robes and neatly polished black shoes. He didn't even seem uncomfortable in dress robes. "We're pretty adult," he said. "We have our own house. We have jobs. We're godparents. You have your own faction in the government. I'm not sure it gets much more grown up than this."
"I suppose so." She felt like she kept waiting for something that would make the world make sense to her, but if it was out there, she hadn't found it yet. "I just don't want them to think of me as a child."
"I'm sure that they don't. They rely on you to get things passed in the Wizengamot. They wouldn't do that if they thought you were a child."
"Maybe. Maybe I'm just a useful child," she said.
"You're nearly thirty, I don't think anyone considers you a child any longer," he assured her. "Has Rufus said anything about running for another term?"
"Not yet. I think he will though. He's only in his sixties." And, as usual, he'd want her support for the election. And she would give it, because he was a decent Minister and she could work with him in the Wizengamot. Better him than some of the other possibilities out there.
"Are we ready?" he asked.
Rachel checked the mirror one more time and decided this was as good as it was going to get. "Yes, we're ready." She paused and looked at the cats, who were now on her bed, with Feverfew forcibly grooming Dingbat. "Be good you two. We'll be back in a few hours."
"Them? Good?" Theo joked. "I'll believe it when I see it."
Feverfew meowed, looking at him.
"I know you know how to behave, you're not the one I'm looking at," Rachel told her.
Dingbat sat obliviously as usual.
"Are you sure she's part kneazle?" Theo asked.
"No idea, but she's my cat." It didn't matter if Ring-A-Ding was part kneazle, not really. She loved her anyway, despite the occasional foibles.
"I'm not saying she's not, I'm just saying-"
"Don't call my cat stupid. She just has unique challenges," Rachel warned him. They'd had this discussion before a number of times.
"Alright. She's your cat," Theo said, moving so that they could leave. "Minister's Mansion again?"
"Yep." She took Theo's offered arm and apparated them directly onto the path that led up to the Minister's Mansion. The night was slightly chilly and neither of them were wearing cloaks, but nobody used the floo in a gown.
An MLE guard at the door checked their invitation and then they were inside. It seemed to be a small group tonight, or not everyone had arrived yet. Rachel saw Madam Amelia Bones speaking with Alwen Arcond.
"Rachel," Minister Rufus Scrimgeour called, waving them over, his husband Andre at his side.
Rachel and Theo obligingly went over. "Hello Rufus, hello Andre. How are you both?" Rachel asked. Over the years of working with the Ministry she'd become a lot more comfortable using everyone's first names.
"Busy as always," Rufus said with a tired smile.
"So are you, I hear. Unspeakable Snow?" Andre asked with a teasing smile.
Rachel felt herself flush again; she wished she didn't do that so easily. "Yes. Just started."
"I don't know what you get up to down there and I don't want to know," Rufus said, still smiling. "Just tell me that you're not leaving the Wizengamot."
"I'm not leaving the Wizengamot," Rachel promised. She knew where her responsibilities lay.
"What about you, Theo? Following Rachel into the Unspeakables?" Andre asked.
"No, I'm happy with the Spell Crafting Guild," Theo said.
"You want Head over Transfiguration?" Rufus asked, eyebrows arched.
Rachel felt Theo's arm tense slightly beneath her fingers.
"We'll see what happens," Theo said. "I'm open to the possibilities."
"Best way to go about it, you never know what the future will hold," Andre said.
"Hold on a moment. Amelia, Alwen, join us please," Rufus called.
Amelia and Alwen came over to them. Rachel had known Alwen for years now - he headed National Finance and often came to speak to the Wizengamot when their proposals dealt with taxes or other financial allocations.
"Are we talking about this now?" Amelia asked.
"I'd like a heads up if Mason Fallon's proposal is going to pass. You've all seen it?" Rufus asked, getting nods.
"It's not going to pass," Rachel said, getting everyone's attention.
"How certain are you?" Alwen asked.
"I'm certain. I have the votes," Rachel promised.
There was a moment of quiet as they all assessed each other.
"You know he's been going for bribes?" Amelia checked.
"I know. I know my people. We're good," Rachel said again. She'd already talked with Sirius and he had promised her they had the votes. She trusted him.
Rufus nodded. "Alright then. We may have to counter him in the future. He's not falling in with Turner, but he's willing to vote with him and I'm certain they took his bribes."
"Any idea what his long term goals are?" Rachel asked.
"He seems to want to make a name for himself. He's in it for the money. We're going to try to get him voted out in the next election. Shouldn't be hard. Fallon is not fulfilling the promises he made to get the votes to get elected in the first place," Rufus said.
"We'll make sure it's taken care of, but we have three years before we need to worry about it. For now let's just keep blocking his proposals," Amelia agreed.
Rachel nodded. She'd make sure her faction knew of the situation as well. Plenty of people were in the Wizengamot just for power, and there wasn't much to be done about that, but they could do something about the people who were just there to enrich themselves.
"Alright, enough business," Rufus said. "Patrick, good to see you. Come tell us how you managed to lure Rachel into your department."
Patrick joined them, giving a short bow. "The same way I get everyone to join my department," he said.
"Well?" Andre asked when Patrick didn't go on.
"If you have to ask, you'll never understand," Patrick said, smiling at Rachel.
Rachel smiled back, fully understanding. If people didn't instinctively know about the draw of research that the Department of Mysteries offered, then they really couldn't understand.
The group laughed and Rachel settled in for making conversation for the evening, her hand still tucked securely around Theo's forearm. She was glad to have him with her through all this.
Rachel was standing at the back of a church. Or rather, she was standing at the back of a memory of a church. She'd never been to a church service before, so she felt this was an enlightening experience for reasons that were probably different than the Morsius Pensieve had intended, if the Morsius Pensieve could actually intend anything at all.
She hadn't seen anything thus far to suggest proto-sentience or sapience from the pensieve, but it was clearly selecting the memories she was viewing somehow. After giving it some consideration, she'd decided that the entire existence of the Morsius Pensieve was an enormous breach in someone's personal privacy. She had no doubt that the Dark Lord would not want people viewing his childhood memories, and the idea that someone could kill her and then view her own life was seriously disturbing.
And that was even putting aside a number of things that she didn't understand. Where were the memories coming from? What was in the memory vials she was using? Why was her blood used to activate the Pensieve? Had killing people changed her somehow on a physiological or magical level? For that matter, how did the Pensieve know that she wanted to see Tom Riddle's memories and not Bellatrix Lestrange's? She'd killed both of them.
She knew this was something she and Hermione both struggled with in the magical world. In the muggle world, there was usually an explanation somewhere. You wanted to know how a car worked, you looked up how the different parts of a car work. Want to know about gravity? There was a ton of research about gravity. In the magical world, more often than not, the answer was we don't know why this is the way things work, but this is the way it has always been done.
Potions wasn't entirely exempt from that, but it was a bit more regimented than most magical fields of study. But even there, the answer was often that they knew certain ingredients in certain combinations under certain conditions acted in a certain way. Rachel had done a cursory look on the internet about molecules and particles and all of that before she realized exactly how over her head she was after not having a muggle science class in nearly two decades. Hermione had done a lot of research into how they knew how muggle medical treatments worked, but even in muggle science, particularly concerning the brain, the answer was the same: they could see it was having an affect and could theorize why, but neither magic or science had real explanations about how the brain and some of the body worked.
In another lifetime, Rachel might have tried to make more headway there, but as it was she had a full plate with the things she was already doing. She had things to do and she was a little annoyed that she was standing here watching four year old Tom Riddle fidget his way through church service in the early 1930s.
What exactly was she supposed to be gaining from this?
Thus far the memories the Morsius Pensieve had shown her had all been of Tom Riddle's young childhood. The orphanage itself didn't seem like a horrible place, all things considered. As far as she could see the children were all regularly fed. They were clothed. They were kept clean. They were given an education. And yet while she could see that it was better than starving on the streets, the children lacked any sort of familial care. There were no hugs. There were no bedtime stories. The children were herded from place to place and given tasks. Everything was strictly regimented.
She didn't really see anything to suggest that Tom Riddle was different from the other children in the orphanage's care. He was quiet and watchful, but many of the children were. He had mastered tying his own shoelaces and dressing himself. He didn't seem to have friends.
It was strange seeing Tom Riddle at her godson's age. They were so different. Scorpius was lively and animated and always talking and wanting attention. She could easily recall Theo scooping Scorpius up and making him laugh, but she couldn't imagine anyone doing that for Tom Riddle. She had never seen Tom Riddle laugh in these memories.
So what did it all mean?
Tom Riddle had a childhood of emotional deprivation. So did a lot of people and Rachel didn't see them going around and committing mass murders. Rachel wondered if they could track down any of the other children who had grown up at this orphanage and see if they had gone on to kill anyone. She rather doubted it.
She looked over the pews of restless children. She didn't see anything revealing here. She just saw children. Why was the Morsius Pensieve showing her this?
Moving so that she could get a better look at Tom Riddle, Rachel walked up the aisle between the pews, half listening to the drone of the priest giving the service. Tom Riddle had a full glower on his face as he sat between two other children, his arms folded in front of his chest.
Rachel watched him for a moment, trying to understand what the problem was, and slowly turned so that she could see anything he might be looking at. No, she had no idea why he was so upset. None of the other children seemed upset, they mostly looked bored.
"Well, if you're going to show me something, actually show me something," Rachel called to the pensieve, not expecting a response. She felt like she'd been in this memory for a long time now, though it wasn't possible to tell. Interestingly her watch stopped while she was in the pensieve, but it always had the right time when she returned to her body. She didn't know what that meant either.
She listened to the priest, tuning in when she heard the words 'kingdom of heaven' and wondered if that was the problem. As far as Tom Riddle knew, his parents were dead. Maybe he didn't like people talking about what happened after people died. She could understand that. At Tom Riddle's age, she had known her parents were dead from driving drunk and that they hadn't wanted her in the first place. She hadn't liked people talking about her parents either, it had made her cry until she was old enough to learn how not to cry from just words.
Now she was curious about what Tom had been told about his parents. The pensieve hadn't shown her any memories of Tom being told anything about them. They must have told the children something, mustn't they? Even believing that her parents had died drunk, she had still been very curious about them when she was young. She had learned quickly not to ask, but she had imagined them in a lot of different ways.
Telling Tom that he had been named after his father and grandfather and that his mother had died following his birth because they couldn't be bothered to get her a doctor wasn't much, but it was at least some information. Maybe what she was witnessing was the start of Tom Riddle's obsession with his own family, an obsession that had later led to him killing most of his remaining family members and then targeting families for torture and murder.
At the same time, she couldn't blame him for wanting to know about his family. She had pretty much hoarded any information she could get about her parents. She also couldn't blame a four year old orphan for being sensitive when people talked about what they thought happened after people died.
Or maybe she was simply reading into things and Tom Riddle was just having a rough morning. She could empathize with that as well.
The church service finally finished and the caretakers began leading the children out of the church. She watched as Tom shoved a younger boy to the ground, making sure not to be seen and moving away so that no one suspected him. Maybe she should also learn not to underestimate Tom Riddle, no matter how old he was.
"Hello?" Rachel called after she and Theo arrived at Severus' home for Sunday dinner. "Severus?"
The house was silent and Rachel felt a notch of worry. She and Theo were on time, so where was Severus?
"Maybe outside?" Theo suggested.
Rachel nodded. "He might have lost track of time in the greenhouses." She willed it to be that, because she did not like it when people were not where they said they were going to be. It was a control thing again, something she was trying to work on, but even all these years later, when someone was late her mind immediately jumped to the idea that something terrible had happened.
She heard the click of the door opening and spun with both of her hands raised, lowering them when she saw Severus coming inside with a bundle of sage.
"My home is well warded," Severus reminded them as Theo re-pocketed his wand.
"We know," she said.
"Dinner's almost finished." Severus led the way into the kitchen and they followed. "I suppose that display tells me how your week has been."
"My week has been mostly alright. I just wasn't expecting anyone to come through the front door," she told him.
"I see Rachel getting ready to cast defensively and I draw my wand," Theo said. "Nothing personal."
"I don't take it personally, and I'm glad you are both prepared to defend yourselves, but I would hope that you generally see this house as a safe place. With Albus gone, the only people who can access it are myself, the two of you, Minerva, and Poppy," he said, doctoring the pot of stew on the stove.
"We know that. We do," Rachel said. "I feel perfectly safe here, it just creeped me out when you didn't answer and suddenly the door was slowly opening."
"And you could not intuit that it was me coming in from the garden?" he asked, glancing at her.
"Of course I could." And of course it had been Severus, but if it hadn't been him, she'd been prepared.
"Sometimes I worry that the war affected all of you so much, in ways that are shown a decade later," Severus said. "Stew is ready. I have bread rolls as well. Theo, would you like wine?"
"Sure," Theo said. "I'm not certain that this is the war affecting us. Most people would be cautious about a door suddenly opening, I think."
"I assure you, most people do not prepare to cast spells at someone for opening a door," he said as he dished up the stew.
"We wouldn't actually have cast anything at you, once we saw who you were," Rachel said, accepting her bowl and then retrieving silverware for all three of them. "It's all about expectations. We didn't expect the door to open, so we reacted accordingly. If it was someone opening my office door at the Ministry, I'd know that it was Booker, so I wouldn't worry about it."
Theo nodded. "Same at the Guild. I know people will be coming through my office door, so it doesn't bother me. If a door at our home opened unexpectedly, I would be worried."
"If you say so," Severus said as they settled down at the table to eat. "How was your week?"
"We had dinner with the Minister," Rachel said. "He's worried about Fallon's proposal passing, and I promised him that it wouldn't. Fallon doesn't have the votes, and he should have made sure that he did before he scheduled for the proposal to be debated and voted on."
"Foolish of him. Do you think he actually expects it to pass?" Severus asked.
Rachel frowned down at her stew as she considered it. "I honestly don't know. I can't read him very well. He was very abrupt when I spoke with him. He wanted to trade his vote on my proposal for my faction's vote on his."
"He must be oblivious if he thought that was going to work. Why would you make such a disadvantageous trade?" Theo asked.
"He probably knows about my House Elf proposal and knows how hard it will be for me to get enough votes. No matter. I don't want his vote," Rachel said, hoping that they could actually get Mason Fallon voted out of the Wizengamot at the next election. Maybe she should start throwing her support behind candidates that she favored. That might be one way to secure her faction's larger voting block.
"Do you have the votes for that proposal?" Severus asked.
"Not yet," Rachel said. "I'll finalize the proposal in the next few weeks, it should only take another draft or two. Then I'll introduce it to my faction. If I have their support, I'll introduce it to the Wizengamot at large."
"If you have their support? Will the faction really not vote for you?" Theo asked.
"I'm not going to demand that they vote for my proposals, that's not the way I run things," she said. She was not going to be that type of person.
"Which is understandable, but it should be a given that they'll vote for your proposals. It is your faction," Severus said, raising his eyebrows at her.
Rachel shook her head. "If they have a problem with my proposal, we can talk it out. If they truly believe I'm wrong, I'm not going to ask them to vote for it. I'm not Professor Dumbledore and I'm not Minister Fudge. People should be loyal to what they believe is the right thing, not to what a person demands of them."
"That's commendable, but I don't know how far you're going to get with controversial proposals working like that," Severus said.
"The Employment Equality Act passed with an extra two votes. It seems to be working so far," Rachel said firmly.
Severus nodded. "That was a surprise."
It had been a surprise to Rachel as well, but she was pleased with the result.
"It would be nice if we could actually get some muggleborns on the Wizengamot," Theo said.
"That would be nice, but that one will be a lot harder to accomplish," Rachel said. She wasn't even sure how much throwing her support behind a muggleborn candidate would help.
"That would be a sign that things are truly changing," Severus agreed, looking thoughtful. "You'd need the right candidate. Impeccable record. Able to function in pureblood culture. Proposals that they can actually accomplish and don't cause too many waves. Someone who fought in the war would be ideal, they could use that."
"Do we actually know anyone like that? Even putting aside the issue of them actually wanting to be on the Wizengamot?" Theo asked.
Severus shook his head. "No one in the Order fits the bill. We lost most of the muggleborns in the war, and the remaining ones that I know of would not be suitable candidates. Perhaps someone in the MLE?"
"I could ask Amelia and Rufus. If the three of us came together to support a candidate, that might do it," Rachel said, though no one she knew fit those criteria either. Hermione would work, but Hermione was helping people in other ways. She was also much younger than a candidate that most people would be willing to vote for.
"It's something to think about, at least. How was your week, Severus?" Theo asked.
"More or less as it has been since I took Andrea as an apprentice," he said, the corners of his mouth tugging down slightly.
"No improvements?" Rachel asked.
"Difficult to say. She follows my rules and procedures because I require it. Merlin knows what she gets up to on her own time." Severus shook his head.
"Well, hopefully two to three years of following the procedures will convince her they're necessary," Theo said, shrugging as he took a sip of his drink.
"One can only hope, but I don't know how she got through her NEWTs in such a manner."
Rachel didn't know that either. By the time someone finished their NEWTs they should be well acquainted with laboratory safety.
"What does your next week bring?" Severus asked.
"More Wizengamot stuff. We meet on Saturday," Rachel said, wishing she could tell them about her work with the Unspeakables. The Department of Mysteries was becoming a significant part of her life and it was frustrating not to be able to share what she was experiencing.
"Working on a paper," Theo said. "Otherwise just dealing with department drama."
"I tend to find that the less you are involved in the Guilds, the less drama there is," Severus said.
Theo laughed. "Too late now."
Rachel smiled and returned to her stew. Life wasn't so bad.
Rachel was lost, somewhere deep in the Department of Mysteries. She'd been through six rooms already and seemed no closer to finding her way to the Morsius Pensieve. She had already decided that she was going to ask Liesel or Mirabel for tips on traversing the Department, and ask how long it usually took people to get to where they were going, and if there were any warnings about the Department that Patrick had forgotten to give her when he first took her inside. Some of the rooms were a little creepy, especially the one that had dead creatures suspended in fluids. She hadn't been able to identify any of the creatures, but some of them had been huge.
Currently she was in a room that was holding a bunch of wooden crates, along with a desk. She presumed someone was studying what was in the crates, but she also knew better than to go poking her fingers in unmarked crates. She could also feel the presence of the Department pressing on the edge of her mind.
"Is there something you want?" Rachel asked, looking around. "I'm trying to go to the Morsius Pensieve. Can you take me there?"
She waited, feeling the presence shift somehow. She couldn't tell if that was understanding or something else. "Are you trying to show me something? I'm not going to go looking in boxes and stuff."
There was another shift, slightly more pressure and then significantly less. She didn't know what that meant either. Deciding that she'd wander for a few more rooms before she tried to make her way back out to start again from scratch, Rachel went to the next door and opened it to find herself somewhere she'd seen before.
There were rows upon rows of wooden shelves, but even from here Rachel could see that only the first few rows were occupied with small glass orbs, each neatly labeled. It had been around thirteen years since the Dark Lord had destroyed the Hall of Prophecy. That meant all of these prophecies had been given in the last decade or so. There were more than she was expecting - she had rather assumed that giving prophecies was an uncommon thing.
"Hello?" a woman called, and then there were footsteps coming in Rachel's direction.
"Hello," Rachel called back. "I don't mean to intrude, I'm just lost."
The woman appeared, her dark hair peppered with grey pulled back and a small smile on her face. "That's not surprising, she's just showing you around. If I'm not mistaken, you've only been coming in here for a few weeks."
"That's right. I've never been quite this lost before though. Usually I can get to where I'm going in four or five rooms."
"She wanted you to be comfortable first. Now that you've been here for a little bit, she wants you to see what the possibilities are. You're on the potions team, right?"
"I am. Just the general team for now, I haven't decided what I'm specializing in," Rachel explained with another glance around. "Do you work in this room?"
"Yes, my primary work is caring for and cataloging the prophecies. How rude of me. My name is Gayle," she said, bobbing her head in something that wasn't quite a bow or curtsy.
"Rachel," she said, though she suspected that Gayle already knew who she was. "There are more prophecies than I was expecting."
Gayle shook her head. "This is a mere fraction of what we once had. So much was lost that day. I was the only one left of the group studying prophecies, so I took over head of the group. I have two more people now."
"I'm sorry for your loss," Rachel said, not knowing what else to say when people spoke of those who had died in the war. "Why did the Department allow the Dark Lord to come to this room? Couldn't she have stopped him?"
"Oh, a strong will has a great deal to do with it. If you're firm about where you want to go, she'll generally let you go where you're trying to go. It helps to have a picture of where you're trying to go in your mind, and the pathway you want to take. Eventually you will be able to make a sort of mental map about which rooms will connect to which other rooms. Mind you, that map is different for every person. Besides, we suspect that Rookwood helped You-Know-Who prepare to navigate the Department. He could have shared his experiences through legilimency," Gayle explained.
Rachel considered that. Was she just not strong willed enough to navigate the Department? Maybe she just needed more time to get used to it? "These were all the prophecies given in magical Britain since then?" she asked.
"Oh, no. We record prophecies from all around the world. There aren't that many Seers in Britain," Gayle said quickly.
"How?"
"I'll show you," Gayle said, motioning Rachel further into the room.
Rachel followed her past the rows of prophecies and to an object that Rachel could only describe as a large crystal funnel.
"The Vaticinium listens for prophecies being spoken and collects them in these small orbs. We store the orbs, along with a note of the subjects mentioned in the prophecy if we can manage it, and organize them by date given. We also keep record of all the prophecies that we are allowed to hear," Gayle explained. There was a small glass sphere waiting at the bottom of the funnel, prepared to be filled by a prophecy.
"How can you record prophecies if only the people subject to them can listen to them?" Rachel asked.
"Many prophecies are not about specific people. Sometimes they are about a location in the world, or the world itself. The most popular prophecy foretells the end of the world, but all of them are maddeningly vague. It will happen eventually, but that prophecy has been being given for at least as long as we've been keeping records."
That was mildly alarming, but Rachel figured that if prophecies said that the world will eventually end, there wasn't really anything to be done about it. Besides, if they've been being given for centuries, there clearly wasn't any urgency to the time frame.
"I've been told that you yourself were subject to a prophecy?" Gayle asked, looking at Rachel attentively.
That was information that Rachel generally tried to keep to herself. There were already more people who knew than she was strictly comfortable with. But it was clear that Gayle did know, so it would be silly to deny it. "I was. The prophecy has been resolved." And no one better make any more prophecies about her. Ever.
"I don't suppose you'd care to share the prophecy, for the record?"
"I really wouldn't." Rachel supposed it really didn't matter that much now, but she'd rather not trust that the Unspeakables would keep something like this to themselves.
"Understandable. Most people who have been subject to prophecy don't want to talk about it. Many of them don't survive the experience," Gayle said with a knowing nod.
"Are all prophecies so violent then?"
Gayle bobbed her head. "Most prophecies describe conflict of some sort or some sort of upheaval. Prophecies describe the circumstances in which change comes to our world, and it's rare that change comes without bloodshed. There's a difference between prophecies and foretelling the future."
"What's that?" Rachel asked, glad that she'd found someone who was willing to give her answers and wasn't pressing her for things she didn't want to give.
"Well, Seers can do a number of things. They can give prophecies, obviously. In those cases, the Other fully possesses the Seer and uses their body to utter words that will describe the shape of things to come, oftentimes with conditions or a sequence of events," Gayle began.
"That sounds uncomfortable." She did not want to be possessed by anything ever. Having the Dark Lord in her head for years on end was as close as she wanted to get to possession.
"Oh, no, not at all. Don't worry about it. The Seer has no recollection of uttering the prophecy, it doesn't hurt them, they are just a conduit and it's never for more than a few moments at a time. The longest recorded prophecy we've ever heard was less than five minutes and as far as we know it has never been fulfilled."
Rachel found herself curious despite herself. "Does that one foretell the end of the world too?"
Gayle laughed. "Don't they all. It will be an interesting time and I'm coming to regret that I'm old enough I likely won't see it happen."
Rachel sincerely hoped she was long dead before the end of the world came. She had lived through a war and that was more than enough for her. She was also beginning to understand why Unspeakables had a reputation for being strange. "So you said that this was different from Seers foretelling the future?"
"Oh, yes. Yes. Seers can sort of dip into the Other and get hints at the future without being possessed by it. They use tools, such as cards, tea leaves, palms, or crystal balls to read the shape of what will become. This is generally more vague than prophecy. They can tell you what to look out for or when to take certain precautions. Although, I generally caution people about just seeing whomever to have their future told. There are plenty of people who pretend to See when they cannot. There's no guild or licensing for Seers," Gayle explained.
"Why not?" It seemed to her that if there were so many people pretending to be Seers, then it was reasonable for the Ministry or a Guild to license Seers.
"Because what a person Sees is hard to interpret and many people are skilled enough to fool other Seers. The only real way to know if someone is a Seer is to watch them give a prophecy, but that happens so rarely, sometimes only once or twice in a Seer's lifetime, that we can't simply exclude anyone who hasn't given a prophecy."
"You'd still think people who were legitimate Seers would want a guild where they could discuss things and do research and make collective decisions for their field," Rachel said. Even though she wasn't all that fond of the Potions Guild, it was absolutely necessary for everything from recipe standardization, testing, safety protocol, to education and collaborations, and more.
Gayle smiled at her. "Something Unspeakables assume, incorrectly as it turns out, is that everyone wants to research. For the most part, Seers simply want to See and to do their craft. I imagine they'd have great difficulty staffing their own guild. For many things, if it doesn't already exist, it's for a reason and not because someone simply hasn't thought of it."
"Not for everything. There's plenty of new inventions," Rachel countered. "There are things being invented all the time."
"True, but culturally, most things are the way they are for a reason. I'm not saying that things cannot change, but change must be approached carefully or it will be rejected by the masses."
She wondered if they were now talking about the Wizengamot and Rachel's proposals. "Some things need to change. And we should change them if we can."
"Perhaps," Gayle said. "But change is never without consequence, and I think it's difficult for younger people to realize that something they do now may have unintended effects much later down the line. However, I am not in the Time group, nor do I want to be. If you want to talk about small changes leading to much bigger consequences, speak with them."
Rachel thought she might. She'd been curious about time, and time travel, for a while. "Thank you for the advice. And for answering my questions."
"You'll find that some people here are more willing and able to talk about their work than others. It never hurts to ask, but some people can't disclose their projects."
"I fully understand." Rachel knew that her project with the Morsius Pensieve was strictly need-to-know. Speaking of which, she should be trying to get to work on something today. She had a meeting later in the Wizengamot, so she'd wanted to spend part of the morning in research after she'd visited the pensieve. "I should probably get to work."
"Of course. Now this is a terminal node, meaning that there is only one entrance and not a path through into other rooms. You'll want to go all the way back out to the entry chamber and try again. Try thinking 'out' firmly in the direction of the Department, she might listen."
"When you say in the direction of the Department, do you mean toward the walls? Or the ceiling? Or something else?" Rachel checked.
"To where you feel her in your mind. You can feel her presence, yes?" Gayle asked.
"Yes, I can. It's a little unsettling. Can she read my thoughts?"
Gayle shrugged. "That's a difficult question to answer. We've worked with the Department for a long time, and while most of us who work here can feel her presence, we have not found any real way of communicating with her. It's hard to say whether or not thinking 'out' at her when you're trying to leave works, because you'll always find your way out eventually, but most of us get into the habit of it just in case it does work. You'll find that Unspeakables are a strangely superstitious bunch. If you're interested, there's a great deal of research about the Department herself in 010 through 019 in the Archives. Most everyone winds up doing a little research about the Department regardless of their speciality."
"I'll look into it. Thank you," Rachel said, very curious about their attempts to communicate with the Department over the years and wondering if she could come up with something no one else had tried. "I'm sure I'll see you around."
She waved her hand. "I mostly work here rather than the offices, but we'll probably bump into each other at some point. Best of luck to you."
"Thank you. You too," Rachel said, giving the room around her one last glance before she went back out the door. She looked up at the ceiling. "I'd like to go out, please, unless you can direct me to the Morsius Pensieve from here."
Whether or not that would actually help, she had no idea. It was worth trying.
Rachel drummed her fingers on her desk as she listened to the debate on Fallon's proposal slowly wrapping up. She had already spoken against it, figuring that if she was going to ask her faction to vote against it she should be willing to speak publicly about why she thought the proposal was a bad idea.
The reason the proposal was a bad idea was simple enough - it aimed to concentrate wealth in the hands of businessmen rather than properly paying employees and not charging customers outrageous prices. Rachel had needed to find a more flowery way of saying that, and she'd ran over her short speech with Booker and Monty a few times, but she felt she'd made her point concisely enough.
Over the years Rachel had come to decide that these debates were mostly pointless, particularly when they voted on something the same day it was debated. Everyone walked into the chambers knowing what their vote was going to be. The people they really had to justify themselves to were the public, and often Wizengamot members who had a particular role in a proposal - whether speaking for it or against it - went straight down to the Daily Prophet offices to give their quotes for the next edition of the newspaper.
Rachel occasionally used Booker to send quotes to the Daily Prophet, but she didn't speak with them directly, much to their ongoing consternation. The situation with the Daily Prophet was much better than it had been when she was younger, but they were still far too nosy about her life and personal business for her tastes.
"If there are no other comments or questions, the Wizengamot will vote," Janice Hawthorne - current Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot - directed. "To find in favor of the proposal to allow less Ministry oversight into the Merchant's Guild, raise your hand. To vote against, please leave your hands unraised."
One of Janice's clerks darted out onto the floor to tally the vote and Rachel looked around as she pointedly left her hands on her lap. Turner's faction had voted in favor, which wasn't a surprise at all. That was ten. Four of the Guild faction raised their hands, which wasn't exactly a surprise, but she saw the expression on Ethan's face that meant he was concerned and would be going around to try and fix his faction. Fallon voted for himself, no surprise there. No one from the Ministry faction or Rachel's faction raised their hands. Good. And a handful of independents had raised their hands. At least now she knew who was willing to take bribes.
"The proposal has failed," Janice Hawthorne said once everyone was holding still and her clerk had returned to her with the tally. "That concludes our business here for today. The Wizengamot is dismissed until our next meeting."
Rachel sighed and tried to stretch her back as she stood up and then checked her watch. It was four, which meant they'd spent six hours today meeting. Not great, but not terrible. She spotted Fallon making his way to Turner, a metaphorical storm cloud over his head.
"What an idiot," Anyssa said, watching them. "Did he actually expect that to pass? He's been sitting on the Wizengamot for four years now. Hasn't he learned anything?"
"Apparently not," Rachel said, pitching her voice more quietly than Anyssa's.
"Oh well. If he can't deliver, he'll be voted out. And for good reason. I haven't had the chance to tell you yet, but he came to me. Here, walk with me," Anyssa said, motioning her to where other Wizengamot members were slowly exiting the chambers.
Rachel walked with Anyssa and waited until there was more space around them before she spoke. "What did he offer you?"
"Played the family angle, said I shouldn't even be in your faction and that I should be loyal to the Guilds. He's one to talk, he's not in the Guild's faction. He's not even a member of the Merchant's Guild. I checked," Anyssa said. "I told him I wasn't my father or my mother and that if he wanted to deal with me he needed to understand that I make my own decisions."
"How did he take that?"
"He said that children these days had no idea what familial loyalty meant. I told him that my father was a Death Eater and then kicked him out of my office. Hopefully that should be the end of that."
Rachel wasn't sure if Anyssa telling Fallon that her father was a Death Eater was a threat or her way of saying that her father had betrayed their family first, and Anyssa was trying to set it right. Either way, she was glad Anyssa had booted Fallon from her office. "Does he seem like he's willing to threaten you?"
"Fallon? No. Besides, he can't threaten me. I'm a Selwyn. I'm not quite as untouchable as you are, but I'm pretty close. When are we meeting next?" Anyssa asked.
"Once I have my proposal finalized. Should be another two or three weeks. I hit a few bumps that I want to iron out before I give it to anyone." She'd been hoping to have her final draft wrapped up close to now, but she and Booker had come across a few inconsistencies and loopholes they were trying to fix.
"Alright. Bring Theo and come have dinner with me and Angie one night," Anyssa said as they reached her office.
"Will do," Rachel said. "Have a good weekend, what's left of it at least."
"You too," Anyssa said, disappearing into her office.
Rachel went one door down and into her own office to find Booker waiting for her.
"It didn't pass?" he asked, standing up.
"No, only twenty two people voted for it. I'll make a list," Rachel said, heading toward her private office.
"Anyone in your faction we need to worry about?" he checked.
"No, everyone fell in line. There were four in the Guild's faction though. Ethan didn't look happy." She went to her wardrobe and pulled her Wizengamot robes over her head. She always felt silly wearing them.
"I'll bet he didn't. Ministry faction?"
"No one there either. All of Turner's people voted for it though. I wonder what Fallon offered them."
"Money or advantageous dealings with the Merchant's Guild, most likely. They wouldn't accept a simple vote for a vote," Booker said.
"Is Fallon really not a member of the Merchant's Guild?" she asked, pulling on a pair of nice robes that she could wear inside the Wizengamot even though she'd just be taking them off again when she got home. She wasn't about to wander around the Wizengamot in casual robes.
"As far as I'm aware, he's not."
"Then why is he pushing a proposal for the Merchant's Guild?" she asked.
"They're probably paying him to do so and thought it would be less obvious if it wasn't one of their own people. He undoubtedly made promises to get certain things to pass, and if he can't, they won't support him in the next election. They'll probably try again with someone a little more subtle," Booker said, watching her as she came back out into her main office. "Anything else I should know?"
"Just the usual nonsense. We'll probably be voting on Campbell's proposal next time, so I need a copy of that so we can form a response. I should have another draft for you of the House Elf proposal…in the near future," she said, going through her mental list for the Wizengamot.
Booker nodded. "As far as I'm aware Campbell hasn't publicly distributed her proposal yet, but I'll check with Ethan's clerk and see if the Guilds are willing to leak a copy to us. Take your time on your proposal. When's the last time you had a day off?"
"You work too much," Monty said when Rachel didn't answer immediately.
"I'm home before seven every day, that's not bad. It was worse during my Mastery," she pointed out.
"You made yourself ill doing your Mastery," Monty said, adjusting his glasses and raising his eyebrows at her.
She couldn't actually argue with that. Her Mastery hadn't been the cause of her nervous breakdown, but her need to constantly be working on something had played a role.
"Take tomorrow off, we'll come at it fresh on Monday," Booker said.
Rachel nodded. She could take it easy tomorrow. Of course, she had plenty of things to be working on, but she could take it easy while working on them, and even take an extended break with Theo. "Alright. Have a good weekend. I should be back in the office Monday after lunch."
"I'll see you then," Booker said, leaving her office.
Rachel returned to her private office to collect the things she needed before she went home.
"Rachel, dear," Monty called after her.
"Yes?"
"Are you collecting your proposal draft to take home with you?"
Rachel slid her proposal draft into its sleeve and shrunk it before putting it into her pocket. "Yes. I'm just going to do light editing. Don't worry about it," she said, coming back into her main office and pulling her door closed behind her.
"Please consider the balance in your life. You do no one any good by working yourself until you're sick," Monty said.
"I won't. I'm very aware. My work with the Unspeakables is only part time, and I'm getting the things done I need to here. I still spend time with my friends and family. I'll be having dinner with Severus tomorrow."
"Very well. How are things with the Unspeakables?"
Rachel paused as she considered her answer. "Both exactly like I expected them to be and entirely different from what I expected them to be."
Monty laughed. "I suppose that describes the Unspeakables in a nutshell. Are you doing the research that you want to do?"
"Some of it is research I want to do and some of it isn't, which I think is just any job. Some of it you like, some of it not so much."
"That's true enough. You know where your boundaries are?"
"I do," she promised. "I'm alright. I'm going to go home, have dinner, and just sit with Theo for a while."
"Good. Goodnight, dear."
"Goodnight, Monty," Rachel said, fully ready to go home and be done for the day.