Why Herbologie? I Hate Herbologie
1993 April~~~
Tris threw her sword onto her back, the late afternoon sun shone through the windows of the practice room, she was the last to leave, rubbing out sore shoulders from the exercises and warmups they’d finished. Her bag felt heavy on her shoulders, full of gear, as she ran a quick cleaning spell across her body, a tempus showed it nearing four, and the witch groaned.
“Joan be damned, I hate studying.”
She grumbled further, locking the door up behind her and apparating across campus to the smaller economics library, absolutely certain she’d find some friends there to bother, how else was she to ignore her studies for a while longer?
Swiping in, Tris rounded the corner of one of the stacks before backtracking quickly, seeing a familiar hairstyle in front of her, unable to keep the grimace off her face she hurried backwards quickly, refusing to get caught in another stupid argument with someone whose ego got in the way of everything.
Two stacks north and she found who she was looking for.
“Bastien, why in Joan’sname do you have to take that pesky test?”
“It’s not my fault my program didn’t require it when I first entered! Now I’ve only got a month to study for it, the job I’ve got lined up post graduation requires I take it before they finish their background check.” Bastien sat near one of the broad windows, a thick textbook cracked open and his hands fisted in his hair, anguish no doubt, Tris had seen it more than once back in the apartment. “I hate herbologie .” The wizard sounded like the world was about to end, the witch tried not to laugh.
Manon pinched the bridge of her nose, the sunlight hit the witch’s face, adding a bit of color as she sighed before sitting in the chair opposite the wizard. Tris approached as books appeared, three, five, ten .
“ Joan , Manon honestly how do you still have your back? Why don’t you shrink it?” Tris called over, shrugging off her bag and dropping it to the floor near them, ankle hooking over a chair and pulling it closer as she peered at the titles, all books on legal history.
“You’re one to talk, I’ve seen your satchel, Tris. The weight keeps me fit, my back can manage,” was her answer as Manon glanced at the pages of the textbook Bastien bent over, “Ever thought about asking Henri for tips on reviewing the basics? He’s got old textbooks, even a cousin still in secondary school, though I can’t say for certain this cousin is actually in France.”
Bastien’s head snapped up, “Why didn’t I think of that,” his face breaking out in awe, the dog patronus snapping out and racing down the hall, nearly knocking Manon’s books over from their precarious perch as it leapt onto the table and over the wix’s head. Tris threw herself to the side as fast as possible.
“I’ve been training to do that for ages, I call it dodging-dogon-loyalty .” Tris quipped, still leaning half out of her chair.
“Bastien if you ruined my notes I will murder you alive .”
“Is that a threat or a promise, because that phrase makes absolutely no sense.” He asked in all seriousness, snapping his hair back into a ponytail, the front half was long but shaved by the neck, the hairstyle was aptly named a “wolf’s tail” and the only reason he could pull it off was because he shrugged off any and all critiques. To be fair, since they saw him form a patronus for the first time, Tris and all his other friends gave him so much shit for it.
Tris snuck a sandwich from her bag and shoved it unceremoniously into her mouth, “Just had practice, this literally tastes like heaven.” Manon’s eyes grew wide, a look of horror upon her face.
“ Tris , in the library ?”
“I won’t tell if you won’t.” Tris hauled a stack of papers from her backpack to what was left of the tablespace, and started editing like mad.
Henri appeared a few minutes later. “Someone called? Look who I ran into on her day off.”
A dark skinned witch with cropped hair sat down, looking horribly uncomfortable to the point of near offence in the library, her lips curled up, bright eyeshadow making her eyes pop despite the muted colors of her clothes, a guest badge on her arm.
“Why did you drag me here Henri, I was about to eat my favorite soup and then we had to rush over here because your friend needed help with a test ? You all should go take the annual aurors examination, I’d love to see you fail like the miserable wix you all are .” Her lip curled up, and she snagged half of Tris’ sandwich before anyone noticed.
“Lourdes!” Bastien cried out, going over to hug the witch, knocking his own textbook off the table with his exuberance. “How’s your family?”
“Same old, same old. My mom finally got a new position and my father is stuck doing non-magical investigative work on smuggling back in Paris. My brother is still abroad and finally has the medical insurance for his needs, and the cousins in Benin are doing great at that wix school, all the teachers are women, you know?”
Tris reached down to eat the last of her sandwich, finally noticing she slapped Lourdes on the arm, gesturing to the empty bag on her lap, mouth still full of food as she gestured more forcefully, the auror only smiled, winking, and Tris reached over to slap her again.
Manon turned away from their books quickly, “All women? Please, tell me all about them and get me their contact information, right now,” leaning forwards as far as she could, nearly tumbling out of her chair, Lourdes only leaned back and stared at them until Manon got the hint, grumbling as she turned back to her work, “Fine, be that way. I’m disowning you soon enough.”
“Remember when those two were besties for a while until she realized just how much of a weird wix Manon was?” Henri asked from his perch on Bastien’s edge of the table flipping through the rightened textbook, turning to Bastien.
“No, we’re still good friends, I’m just good at keeping Manon’s eccentric tendencies in check.” Lourdes stated, “Before we all starve to death, by we I mean me , let’s go grab some food.” She strutted back through the shelves, leaving everyone with no choice but to gather their things at record time, lest she choose a restaurant without telling anyone.
Ten minutes later the group sat outside, a pot of tea on the table and food on the way. It was still chilly in April, but Lourdes had taken off her jacket, wearing a loose shirt, showing off heavily muscled arms and a couple of tattoos on her wrist, rounds of circles that became ever the more faint. Tris had asked her about it once, and realized it was an old family tradition passed on once wix reached a certain age.
“How’s the force been going recently?” Sebastien asked, “Must be busy with all the international smuggling.”
“That’s the Drugged Rabbits realm, my team only deals with domestic problems, though we do work with them pretty often.” Lourdes waved her hand in indifference, pulling his bowl of soup to her person instead of waiting for her own.
“Speaking of, did I ever tell you what happened last month?” Sebastien asked, slapping a hand on the table, making some of the occupants jump “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“Bastien we told you to stop that ages ago,” Tris chastised, digging into her pasta.
“No, what happened?” Henri asked.
“We’d just cleaned out Manon’s apartment, and I ran into that guy who knocked me clear off my feet last year,” the phrase was met with raised eyebrows and a series of winks, Bastien shook his head, “no, I mean literally knocked me over. You remember the one on the main road in Paris, when all my paint walked off into shiny windows like they were dragon-crows going for silver? Henri was with me that day.”
The wizard leaned back, hands clasped behind his head until popping back down, pointing frantically in recognition, “ That guy? Godric , he was oblivious, running off after all that, what a git I can’t believe you remembered what he looked like ? Don’t tell me you actually ran into him again?”
“No no no – he ran into me , I remembered that weird hair and blue eyes and everything, the idiot remembered me too. Apologized this time before I got caught in some street fight between what I can only assume were special ops and smugglers, they were too clean, hair too chiseled.”
Lourdes paused while snacking on the side of a sandwich, this one snagged from Henri’s plate, “Was he one of the smugglers or the Drugged Rabbits ? What did this bloke look like?”
“Taller than myself, super curly brown hair, looks a bit like something else if you know what I mean–”
Manon choked, “why, why would you say that Bastien, oh Joan , I can’t unsee it now” slamming her head against the table and whining.
“–blue eyes, slightly crooked nose and a face of acne scars, name was Matthias, kept tripping over me –literally not figuratively– I doubt he even recognized my unrecognizable beauty.” Sebastien grabbed a scone someone had ordered, raising his eyebrows in surprise at the breakfast food at late afternoon and took a bite, Manon turned her head as she caught sight, gagging involuntarily, about to vomit off the side of the table, Tris rapidly handed her a cup of tea to down, patting the wix on the back furiously.
“ Water, water, water– ”
“Ahh, that one, he’s a weird one. We’ve met a few times, he never seemed to stop tripping over his words, apologizing all the time, infuriating, but I will say he always interrupts the big meetings and asks what all the women on the force think, so that’s one good thing, his female relatives raised him well, or maybe his girlfriends whipped him into shape, or the wizard just has eyes and ears and uses them for once. Other than that I’ve heard he’s got no backbone and is a damned klutz .” Lourdes said, she leaned over trying to snag something from Tris, who knocked her hand away, hissing , “I’m honestly amazed he’s still on the force, not exactly a brazen personality usually fitting in with the international investigative departments.”
“I’ll add that to the next school exposé, any other interesting things going on that you can comment on for the university press, Auror Monet-Madame ?” Tris asked, wriggling her eyebrows and adjusting her braid so it didn’t fall in someone’s soup, receiving a skeptical side glance in return.
“If I’d known you big fat lot would bribe me for information I’d have thrown you out a long time ago, except that you keep giving me fantastic restaurant choices.” She grumbled, popping something in her mouth off of Tris’ plate as the witch curled her lip up. “Oh yeah, I can definitely tell you all about the domestic violence case issued down the road, or the wix attacked the other night for being a First Gen by a bunch of foreigners from the Netherlands, they nearly set her on fire.”
“Oooh,” Tris snapped up her quill covering any excess space on the table with parchment after wincing at the revelation, “tell me more.”
“Can’t it’s going to trial in a few weeks, if you really want to know you’ll go read it then.”
“I don’t want the watered-down exposé!” Tris whined, “I want the nitty gritty, full of details, one from an auror on the scene. It’s obviously something only you can provide, the information is valuable to the future of the readers of our local newspaper. Everything else they write is about explaining away the man’s actions, instead of writing about the woman who needs justice for the abuse. In both the domestic violence and the hate crime attack.”
Lourdes Monet snatched a slice of bread off Tris’ plate, leaning back with a look that said her feet would’ve been on the table if given the chance, “Sure thing, I’ll tell you all the details, pay for this meal and you’ll even get an even more outlandish retelling, worthy of the gossip papers of Monsieur Niel.”
Both stories were truly outlandish and true, harrowing and depressing, nearly every wix sitting within hearing distance shuffled uncomfortably in their seats, Bastien paled, Manon’s face fell, looking haggard as she turned her away to look out on the street, Tris’ lips pressed together thinking of the times she believed herself in love with men and just how well that sorted out back in her previous academic institution.
“Way to ruin the mood, Lourdes.” Henri snapped, the setting sun hitting his face.
“Hey, you all know my work, and you all did ask .”
“I’m paying for the bottle of wine too.” Tris called over the waiter and grabbed the best red wine on the house, glasses popping into existence.
“Alright, change of topic. Can you tell me at least why the smugglers were looking for my uncle’s necklace?” She asked after the lull went on too long.
Lourdes’ fish dish finally came out, paired poorly with the wine, but she paid it no heed, eating it with the vigor of a starved banshee.
“It’s your family, shouldn’t it be your forte to explain?”
“Hardly, sworn to secrecy, just wanted to know if you knew anything.”
Lourdes leaned back, apparently unphased by the low mood. “Oh I do know it, may have been on the international smuggling team’s duties, but it did cross the fringes into our department. It’s nothing I’m forbidden from talking about. Strong magical stuff you’ve got there in that family, never occurred to any of us that any item capable of soul resurrection was still around–”
A clatter as Manon’s fork fell to the floor, the witch cursed as she reached down for it, the others gave her glances as Monet continued her story, “– if I remember it was one of the few left from an old syndicate in Persia.”
Tris shook her head, “Not the Persians.”
Lourdes tapped her chin with her fork briefly, “Hittites was it? A region where Syria and Turkey are now–” she glanced over as Tris nodded, “then the Ottoman Empire, my great grandfather moved over from there to this area before the non-magical Europeans started spouting about making a mono religious state, in wix terms that meant exporting all the werewolves” everyone winced again as Tris poured another half glass of wine for the right answer pushing it over to the auror, Lourdes smothered a laugh at the extra wine, “so it’s been around for a very long time. Unique properties, can’t say I’ve ever seen something with magic so curiously bound.”
“Who’d we all resurrect if we could?” Henri called out.
“The other great great grandfather, and sock him in the face.” The immediate answer shot out from Tris’ mouth.
“Why?” Bastien asked.
“For abusing his slaves, and a ton of other things, one of whom was forcing a binding slave marriage with my great great grandmother, I’d like to send the man straight back to hell.”
They all raised their glasses in agreement, downing the red wine, Manon had pushed hers to Henri’s hand instead of drinking her own.
“I’d raise the greatest Herbologie wix from my history, she was nearly boiled alive for her actions, and I’d like to know what findings she kept from them when they let her publish her work.” Henri said.
“I’d raise the soul of the witch and daughter who were murdered in the creation of the first horcrux recorded.” Lourdes causally tossed out, “They are the real ones to mourn for such an abominable wix practice, it’s about time their names were put into our history books.” The group nodded, nearly all got an introduction to wix-made spells against humanity in their introductory courses in the Licence Professionnelle .
“I’d call up the one who made the standard testing system, and give them a stern lesson on how it’s taught many students to memorise instead of think critically.” Manon threw in after a bite of soup.
“Surprising, thought it would be witch activist related, this is why you need to go into education, or educational policy reform Manon, your skills are lost on international stuff, we’d lose you to an outlying island or something.”
“You may lose me somewhere either way, never know. And just imagine, you’d all have one more place to visit if I left France after graduation.” Her eyebrows wiggled in mirth, and they all slowly nodded in agreement.
“Actually that’s a really good point.” Tris said, high fiving the wix who laughed whole heartedly in return.
“I just heard the wildest thing in a history class my cousin took. One of the best dueling groups in Britain was a witch team; they gained such a following in the late eighteen hundreds that the British M.O.M disbanded it and refused to allow the witches to form their own group.” Henri stated.
“No way.” Tris leaned forwards, “You’ve got to be joking, what idiots, honestly it’s only through witchcraft that they even got some of those spells in the first place, absolutely ludicrous.” Manon raised her empty glass in response. The rest of the dinner dealt with discussions on their favorite witch duelers in French history, undoubtedly the Delacour family’s international recognition trumped almost all the others thrown out, until everyone realized the limits of region and began talking about Africa and Asia.
Lourdes pulled something out from the pocket of her coat, unfolding a scrap of paper which glowed softly, at the curious glances she explained.
“Hired a spellcaster a few years ago to make improvements on note transmission, she came up with these pieces, patented now, and half the funds go straight to funding witch organizations.” Lourdes said after Tris nearly vaulted across the table to see what it was. Unfolding it, the glow receded, and Lourdes’ eyes grew wide.
“ Joan save us ,” in a flash her coat was on, backpack diminished and thrown in her pocket, “emergency meeting, got to go right now.” The terror written on her face as plain as day.
“Stay alive, tell me what happens later!” Tris called, the others echoing as Monet vaulted past the little wall and apparated before her feet even hit the ground.
“Are you supposed to do that?” Bastien muttered.
“Do what? Fence vault?”
“No, apparate without your feet on the ground.” The question stupefied everyone so much no one had an answer, leading them to scramble for probable explanations.
~~~
Auror Lourdes Monet appeared on the scene, setting sun filtering in through the narrow spaces between the buildings in this part of town, illuminating the brickfaces lightly. The sweet yellows of a fading sun paled in comparison, magical fire spread its way through the main road ahead of her, greens and purples disappearing into hues far past the human eye’s ability to see them, rendering the flames invisible for moments at a time, she was glad she took the note’s advice and didn’t apparate straight onto the main road, otherwise she’d be a pile of ashes.
The screams rent the air, and Monet rushed forward as quickly as she could, casting anti-flame charms across her whole body as she sprinted towards the maw of flames. Coming upon the scene, it appeared so random, so wild that without the knowledge of wix flames she’d have thought it a freak wildfire tearing through town. With the exception of the tendrils that actively reached towards the flesh of those attempting to escape, like scenes from her childhood nightmares where ghosts lit fire to naughty children.
“Auror Monet!” She saw a set of familiar cloaks, making her way through to the two on her left.
“Auror Peregrine!” Monet gasped, face stricken in horror, “Are we containing it? Any results on curses put on the flames? Where is the medical team and emergency services?”
Auror Peregrine’s squat stature turned to point out the edges, “Three are on the west side keeping it from vaulting across the river, two on the south to bar it from going in town, at least twenty casualties among the protesters so far, all were against immigrant reforms and increased taxation to support wix disability services, though there may have been pockets of others present of course. Culprit is unknown, the fire reaches into a range of two meters past itself, pulling wix back in, but it seems to leave some alone. Curse breakers are attempting to pinpoint a counter, still unknown yet. Pull as many to safety as you can on the eastern edge, it’s most contained there, and wait for medi-wix to come in. No perceived danger so far in pulling people who have been yanked in on the fringes.”
Monet nodded and rushed in the indicated direction, an elderly gentleman appeared in front of her a wick of flame wrapping around his ankle as he fled to the edges of the street, she reached out and pulled him by the shoulders, watching as the flame stretched with him until it suddenly let go. As she furiously worked to get people over to a safe spot, she began noticing all their spells meant to direct against it were ineffective. Aurors ahead and behind her tried to move the excess tendrils, but all spells thrown towards them were useless, it ignored any shield spells completely, and she couldn’t remember the last time anyone even talked about wix fire in textbooks that was such an unusual color.
But as she rushed citizens to the makeshift healers tent, she had to admit it appeared self contained for the moment, the range of tendrils pulling people in did stop at a set range, and she paused herself, covered in soot from the relics of buildings burnt nearby, playing with the edges, seeing where it came and went, when it stopped reaching, whether it had a preference for hands or legs.
A rumble shook the street, the sound so imperceptible against the roaring flames that she couldn’t be certain it even existed, and the tendrils pulled back suddenly before the main cache of flames expanded outward a full meter, singed her face with the heat, her protective spells melting off until she scrambled backwards again.
“Auror Monet, move before you get pulled in!”
The hand on her arm cautioned, “Don’t tell me something I already know.” She snapped, looking behind her at the grey haired woman who pulled her back, her earrings and colorful scarf whipping in the wind, one of her superiors.
“Apologies for the rude comment, and thank you, Madame.”
The witch shook her head, “No matter, curse breakers have deemed this area unsafe, we’re moving everyone three blocks east while they work on containing the damage.” Lourdes looked towards the edge where pink spells flashed, shuddering booms ricocheting across the area as the curses backfired over, and over again. Auror Monet nodded as the witch watched her back as they ran towards the groups of injured.
As they crossed over a small canal, Lourdes looked around her, taking note of the civilians they’d managed to pull away, covered in burn marks and clothes singed. She feared they’d find no bodies once someone got the fires under control, it was notorious for scorching everything straight to the earth, and the three blocks already burning weren’t going to stop anytime soon.
She recognized a few faces from the international team, they’d been pulled in as well under such circumstances, a few she worked with on the jewelry thieving cases, and many more on the slew of domestic violence issues finally coming to light. Aurors worked with patients, holding them down a patient for additional bandages and salves she looked up at the containment field the curse breakers finally set up, spells strong enough to pause the wayward tendrils as they searched for anyone to pull in.
At the behest of her colleagues she left the group, apparating to the far western edge with a group, they’d need at least five on each corner to begin the strong protective spells, if they were lucky the spells would keep it contained until it burnt itself out, the leader, a curse breaker visible in the color of their cloak, indicated the plan. Arm raised, wands up, and chanting filled the area, direct hand movements and a murky sheen appeared in front of them, reaching up to dome at the top.
Bated breaths filled the air with no other sound than that of flames, already muffled by the screen, as though the sound moved through water, nothing left to do but wait and pray to the gods she believed in that the containment would hold.
“Auror Benjamin,” someone approached the tall auror to her right. “Were all the Drugged Rabbits called in?”
“Of course, is anyone missing?” She heard the tension in his voice and came over to the two.
“I saw Auror Peregrine earlier tonight, the others I haven’t seen.” She told them both, they both nodded, relaxing a bit, she missed the next few words uttered.
“...all are accounted for, most on the south side,” Auror Benjamin stated, the wizard before him nodded, “Understood, thank you, I’ll go check in, need to talk to one of them.” With a crack he disappeared, hopefully his trajectory proved accurate enough that he wouldn’t end up in the flames.
It took hours for it to burn out, not even the street was left, instead a gaping hole down to the recesses of archaic ruins remained, ash dusting the whole area, nearly four blocks on the edge of the wix town gone, and they hadn’t a clue the number of casualties as of yet, though the injured appeared barely scathed and no auror lives were lost. Lourdes slumped against a pole on the corner for a moment, hanging her head, she threw out a tempus, only eleven but it felt much later than that. Her pocket warmed, and she pulled out the paper.
/ Four suspects apprehended, come to the main building’s east wing. /
She dragged her exhausted body up apparating to the main office, even with the scourgify the halls smelled of smoke and ash. Pulling the last door open, Lourdes muttered a prayer that this was the last of it, that the flames were but an isolated incident; even as her bones sung an off tune that this was far from the last.
~~~
The door slammed behind her, a dimly lit room already brightening with the remnants of sunlight peering in from the windows, ducking her head as memos flew around her head at a record pace, shoving her wand back in an arm holster Auror Lourdes Monet ran her fingers along the skin, noting a few more bruises than she’d seen the other day. Eyes bleary, she blinked rapidly trying to quell sleep from her eyes just finished interrogating one of the apprehended suspects with an assistant. Stumbling into the coffee room, she poured herself a generous cup, shrugging off her cloak onto the back of her own chair in the heat of the room, abuzz with bodies and movement as backup from Paris and Rauchette came in for the onslaught.
She shrugged her cloak back off, tossing it in the air, it floated to the designated hook, the golden snake turning to a purple peacock as it took the weight of the piece of clothing, spells kept it from some level of damage, but the scent of flames remained, filling her nose with noxious fumes as it burned through things in the hours hence they had never imagined would go down in flames. Wrinkling her nose she walked over to her desk, tossing the batch of notes onto the cluttered tabletop, a mess of dirty coffee cups, stained papers, all financial documents from a company she’d been researching for embezzlement, a few unlocked items that had been cursed to make the holder hop on one foot for three hours, and a smattering of quills with different feathers. Of the bunch, the one with a dove feather had always been her favorite to use.
Trying to get facts out of a group of suspects whose stories varied was like trying to see which four year old pulled cookies from the cookie jar, no one would fess up, and no one had the same story; the question became how much of their statements were truthful, and how much were not.
“Auror Monet, could you come into the room on the second floor? The deputy head aurors are gathered to discuss damages and next steps.” She glanced up, taking another swig of the coffee, stomach curdling from the parched throat, rubbed raw by ash and flames despite the potions she’d downed in the last few hours, shoved under her nose by a local medi-wizard on the rounds.
“Of course, thank you Auror Benjamin.” Monet pulled out a second stack of parchment, shoving it under her arms as she popped up the stairs, everyone mulled about, tripping and muttering around. A few heavy Parisian accents heard from down the hallway where the Head Aurors were meeting to discuss next steps, the deputies, herself included, entered the adjacent room, knocking four times upon the crow faced knocker and thanking it for keeping the room safe for them before entering (if you forgot, he’d peck your fingers until he drew blood, probably a curse from one too many unlawful workplace affair over the years, the platitudes giving those hidden inside the room enough time to spirit away to different hallways with fully clothed attire, that is if the happy story was to be believed). Monet rubbed at her eyes as she stepped into the room, sitting next to the head of the table as more and more shuffled in, they looked around and changed it to a circular table with plenty of seating so everyone could face and discuss cleanly.
A couple interns slipped in on the side and stood near the door, Monet beckoned them to sit at the table despite their hesitations, and most obliged.
“– we’ve lost at least three blocks through to the stones beneath, the city building inspectors and utilities organizations have just sent us an updated statement regarding the damage. No one in the buildings passed, thankfully all were at home, but the structures are completely gone and all the material inside is completely missing. So far a restaurant, grocer, and half the local bank have been completely decimated.” The heads around the table nodded in agreement and sadness. Someone sneezed and a cloud of smoke filled the room, “sorry, sorry” the muttering came as they blew their nose again. A few seats down a wizard took off his hat and scratched at a head full of static electricity and ash, the flecks disappeared upon hitting the table, as someone sneezed again.
“The stories pulled out from the suspects are all in disarray, none match up, one of the interns smartly said they may have been modified, a brilliant thought, well done. Unfortunately anyone with good legilimens ability are on vacation and won’t be back for another four days, and we don’t have the means to keep them here until then.”
A witch leaned forward, “We know at least two are on our criminal list for holding illegal potions and running a gambling ring, if we could get a warrant to enter their households to search for other things we have a possibility of holding them here long enough to get a legilimens in. Does anyone know if the ones from Paris, Rauchette, or here in Anorre are available to come on short notice? Or if the suspects are needed in those vicinities?”
The three aurors from Paris shook their heads, “No, they’re working on something else at the moment, one is abroad on leave, their replacement is busy doing something else at the moment, we sent a letter and they’re searching for their alternates to come over but we won’t know that for another day at least.” They nodded their heads together as a hum fell across the room.
“What do we know about the injured?” Auror Monet asked, and they all learned about the most heavily injured came from a protesting group, there were about four collective groups present; one against increased small business taxation, one against maternity and paternity limits (the times discrepant), a group against immigrant limits and taxation on disabilities, and the last a pro birth group calling for limits on witch and wix bodily autonomy. “We are still seeing who had the worst set of injuries and if anyone noticed anything strange, but there’s no conclusive connections as of yet. We’ve got them housed in one main hospital and have hired private wix protection agencies to keep an eye on them until further questioning can occur.”
One of the wizards ran a hand across his beard in concern. “Any sightings from the sidelines that could be useful?”
“We’re strapped too thin at the moment, got a few reporters on the chase to find witnesses, but we are limited at the moment.” A plump wizard seated near the door stated.
“So what’s the gameplan at the moment?” After an hour or two of deliberation they had a tentative plan of things that needed to happen and plans to support the local businesses affected. Auror Monet sipped on her fourth or fifth cup of coffee, heart jackhammering in her chest from the excess of caffeine by the time the group dispersed. Walking back out the door she turned the corner to head towards the head meeting, knocking briefly on the door before opening it to a polished study full of light and smoke. A small group of aurors looked on the edge of death, slumped over papers and cups alike, in the middle of pinning a diagram of the incident to the wall, notes on the fire clearly visible.
“Head Aurors, the deputies just finished our deliberation, should’ve gotten you the memo notes, we’re trying to keep the suspects as long as we legally can, and have contacted the owners of the affected shops and are administering aid to the injured. You all should go back downstairs and take a nap in the rest area, just for an hour, a few others have arrived and can take over for a moment.”
With a grumble they got up from their seats, a wave of the wand and the notes plastered themselves to the wall and turned blank. Auror Monet turned to the side and let them all out first, slipping in last to have a hushed discussion with her immediate superior.
“We should bring in any elves and goblins from the area, I think the burning of the flames ran on a different color frequency, it would help to get their ideas on it, they see things in different wavelengths than we do and could give us some insight to the actual breadth of the flames.” Ms. Lavaud nodded her head, making a brief note as they walked back downstairs, plastering against the wall as a group of papers whizzed past them, skipping over the second to the last step, always in danger of vanishing eating one’s leg up straight to the thigh and leaving you to roll back down to the floor in utter embarrassment, it happened to the best of them.
“And when is Head Specialist Madame Ducasse returning?” Monet turned the corner, following Ms. Lavaud to her own office down the hall.
“In two days, she managed to cut some things short but still needed to get other information before she headed out.” Auror Monet nodded, stopping outside the door.
“Thank you, I’ll be heading out then and return for my shift later this afternoon.” Ms. Lavaud nodded in response, and the auror turned back to grab her things, choosing the floo network over the brief walk to an apparition point, too exhausted to get the direction just right to land at her apartment, the smell of sulfur barely bothering her as she disappeared in a poof of greenish smoke.
~~~
A wizard pulled himself out of the water, clothes dripping and wandless, coat singed and boots squishy. The portkey had worked just fine, apparently the landing spot was off by a short ways, landing him in the river this time. Dragging his body out of the slush, mud seeping into his boots and pulling him into the freezing cold of the water, he struggled to reach the shore, eyes locked on the person waiting for him underneath the bridge nearby. The sun was just coming up, and he couldn’t tell which was rock and which a person, finally hugging the edge of the river bank, wand slippery from mud in his hand. The scarf he pulled back across his shoulders, a useful idea, a large enough tug on it and it would send him away and no one would notice it, whichever wix came up with the force applied portkey was smart, smarter than him, the wizard had gotten lucky this time, without the portkey he’d be hauled away for certain.
Casting a drying charm and a warming charm, he squeezed underneath the motorway, hesitant to cast a lumos in his path, unsure whether he’d been followed or not. A pair of eyes caught a faint light as some muggle automobile drove nearby, he nodded towards the other wizard under the bridge, at least he didn’t look like a drowned rat this time.
“You got caught up, why?”
He pulled out a scroll and wrote on it in luminescent ink, the faint glow throwing shadows on the pudgy face of his companion who read the note with a frowning expression.
“They didn’t see you talking with the suspects did they, they were taken soon after?” He shook his head in response, the other wizard lit a cigarette, pulling a long draw on the edge, smoke filling his face, the scent tickling his nose, reminding him of a different companion in the dead of night before his body felt the pain.
“Why’d they single you out?”
/ The auror saw me at the shop. / The other wizard cursed, handing him the cigarette, he took a draw, the drug calming his nerves and settling his racing heartbeat, throwing out a few puffs that shaped into snitches and boggarts.
“We’ve got to be more careful next time, he didn’t see what you dropped off did he?” Another shake of the head. “Good. We’ll talk to the others and see about making a change, have someone at your back when you make transactions. For now it was just our luck the fire caught them off guard, kept them from noticing anything else.”
The pudgy wizard turned away, dropping the cigarette into the water as the wizard pulled his cloak closer around himself. “Come on, the others are waiting.” The quiet one grasped his arm as the two apparated out, the resounding crack hidden by the rushing of a nearby river.
~~~
In an attic apartment kilometers away, a wizard turned in his sleep, a scorched coat hung on one of the few pegs in the tiny apartment, brow furrowed from a restless morning and a drug induced sleep, dreaming of freefalling into a river in search of an escaped convict.