[French Ministry] La tombe dit à la rose [Chantal]

The French Ministry was beautiful…on paper at least. Nestled between grand, imposing buildings, its neo-classical fascade trumped the underground network that Jonathan and his British officials navigated through. There were gardens and terraces to accommodate the al fresco culture of its Officials, and depending on the floor you worked in, could get lovely views of the square, the Eiffel Tower, and the Seine. Inside, elegant use of stone and masonry gave a mix of both airy openness and stately awe.

But actually working in the French Ministry was another thing. If beauty was the first thing that struck you coming in, the second was the reek of smoke from cigars and cigarettes. It clung to everything, the walls, the tapestries, the upholstery, the very air itself. If Jonathan hadn’t prepared himself, it would have immediately clung to his robes, and that would have been a great shame. He particularly liked the robes he’d worn that day, and would hate to burn it out of existence. His job involved him travelling often enough that he was quite familiar with the various perks or quirks of the various Ministries around the world. He briefly recalled his faux pas the second time he’d been stationed in Paris, and the insulted glares he received from his French counterparts for casting a bubble charm to give him some clean air. He resigned himself to increasing his risk of bronchitis today, but he wasn’t going to come fully exposed to the toxic air. A quick repellent charm on his robes to prevent smoke from clinging to them, and he was mostly good to go.

He spent most of the morning in an executive office, working with a French Official with a similar rank. The office had wide doors that let to a terrace looking outside. Normally, Jonathan would have requested it open for fresh air, but he didn’t need to. This office was a pilot office for an upcoming policy the French Ministry was planning to adopt. After many failed attempts over the years, they were going to going to push for a ban on indoor smoking starting next month. All deliberations were kept under wraps as much as possible to avoid pre-emptive revolts, and the French Ministry had planned to send the Memorandum out just before the winter holiday. Jonathan had been part of the deliberations, working with French lawmakers to show them around his own building, and helping them notice the difference in air quality. Britain’s magical seat of government may be underground, but their air was fresh and conducive to productive work.

For the past few months, since the proposal gained traction within the French department heads and Ministerial staff, Jonathan helped coordinate law-makers across the channel to draft the memorandum, discuss contingency plans for non-compliance, and handle logistical trainings, like having some of the British Magical Maintenance staff teach large-scale scouring charms and spells to purify the air, so that by the new year’s day, the French Ministry would look and smell like it had just opened open for the very first time. The very office he was in now was the test room for how the spells changed the atmosphere of working in a smoke-free environment. The fabric on the chairs and chaises were free of dust and smelled slightly of lilies, the wood polished to smell of oak and chestnut, and the air simply clean and fresh.

The hours passed quite rapidly, and they worked throughout, save for the ridiculously long two-hour lunch break. Jonathan still couldn’t adjust to that level of leisure during the work-week. But he reckoned if the French Ministry tried to change that, they’d face a far greater mutiny than what they were expecting from their smoking ban. He had to admit the lunch spread was lovely. Starting with terrine and onion soup, they moved to a hearty tartiflette, a cheese course, and a coffee crème brûlée with a nice cup of espresso. While each well portioned, he was stuffed by the end of it, and wondered how any of them managed to do any work in the afternoon. He was all set for a nap after his dessert!

But sleep was to elude him that day, as it normally did whenever he was pulled into various work projects. He was sipping his drink when a Ministry Official hurried over to his side, looking rather haggard and rushed. After a quick whisper in Jonathan’s ear, the Englishman bolted out of his seat and ran past the doors, barely excusing himself before chasing after the messenger, dashing corridors and wings until he was at the French Auror Office.

There was a huge buzz around the desks and cubicles, with memos hurling past his ears, witches and wizards barking orders and hunting for reports. Jonathan was nudged toward a corner office, where a simple note was addressed to him:

Deal and deliver. — MP, et SP

Jonathan groaned and rubbed his temples. He was just officially handed whatever this case was, on top of the already long pile of projects under his watch, and to have everything reported back to London for his Department Head and Plantagenet to review. He reckoned a British Lead Auror from would be sent over as well, but Jonathan didn’t know whether he would arrive within the hour or within the next few days.

The case was still ongoing, but fragments of details were being relayed as they came. Something about a deranged warlock, and altercation with Muggles that somehow escalated to seven injured tourists. Maybe more. Some were muggles, others were magical brethren. Complicating the matter were the nationality of the victims. At least one French wizard was confirmed as a victim, three of them an English witch on holiday with her Muggle husband and underage daughter, and the rest unconfirmed.

Usually, such cases were meant solely for the Department of Magical Law. But who got to pursue the criminal and try him often turned into a pissing match of who held the longer wands. Were the French to lead, as this crime happened on their soil? Or would Britain try to muscle in, as the current majority of victims were British nationals? Jonathan’s department was often called to mediate these international ego contests, and it was the type of case he disliked most.

Worse, the air in the Auror Office was sickeningly thick, and Jonathan felt light-headed from the noise and wafts of smoke. It was everywhere, in their breaths, their hair, their robes, their chairs, probably even on their bloody memos! As a case in point, Jonathan ran his finger on the fine, mahogany table, and lifted a thin trail of ash. Ugh! Why couldn’t he just go back to that airy, smoke-free room and draft nerdy by-laws without having to get emphysema?

Jonathan was then given a name. Chantal Garnier. She was the auror first on the scene. Jonathan nodded approvingly. Dealing with women was generally a far more pleasant affair, and if London chose to send someone who seemed just as capable, Jonathan figured he could close his part on the case without dealing with overly large egos. As he waited for her to return back to HQ, he pored over her file, nodding here and there at her record. He was getting engrossed into her file that he almost missed the knock on the door, and scrambled to close the file as he stood to greet her.

‘Ah, mademoiselle,’ he intoned, gliding easily into French even as his thoughts raced about his head in his native tongue. ‘You seem to have had quite the eventful day. I am Jonathan Emerson, and until London’s Auror Office sends their delegate, I shall be representing Britain’s interest in today’s case. May I…’

Jonathan trailed off at the realisation he was not at his own desk, and thus had nothing to offer the young lady.

‘Well, for now I can offer you a seat, and can fetch something for you if you like?’

@Chantal Garnier

Today hadn’t gone as planned at all.

For almost two weeks now, Chantal had desired to have a day at the office exclusively, and not go throughout the city, or the country for that matter, to do field work and cover up new cases. The young witch still had some reports she had to finalise and hand over to her superior, and also double check some of summaries Isidoro had completed. Her partner, while very enchanting as a person, and a very good summariser, rarely double checked anything he wrote. Thankfully enough, he trusted Chantal with proofreading everything before handing it in, so both her and her partner’s records emphasised on the superior quality of their reports, and Chantal desired to add even more to that perfect list today. Overall, the former Ombrelune still had a lot of work to catch up at the office, therefore she desired nothing more than just to sit down, which was also an obviously good excuse to put on her fanciest shoes, and go through her entire paperwork.

She had planned to do that. Hence why Chantal had been so engrossed in her work that she didn’t even go to lunch, remaining the only Auror in the office during lunchtime. She wasn’t particularly bothered by that, as that day seemed rather uneventful, aside from some rumours that were going around, something about how the higher ranking officials were preparing a surprise for all the employees. Chantal hadn’t asked around regarding the subject, her main focus being her paperwork. However, something just had to happen. An alert was issued, one of particular importance, as it involved numerous injured tourists, several of foreign nationality.

Being the only one in the office during lunch, it was just her luck that she had to be the first go to the crime scene and prepare the base of the investigation. While Chantal did leave immediately without any complaints, she regretted deeply not passing it on to someone else, particularly because she was definitely not dressed for field work that day. Thinking that she would sit on her chair all day, Chantal dressed up particularly fancy, in some dusty pink silk robes, with a matching pair of rose gold shoes and gloves. The French Auror’s outfit was exclusively for the office, and not for field work, especially considering that it was a quite windy and chilly December and her prepared attire was more suitable for an October weather. 

The crime scene was a complete and utter disaster. While the small investigation team she had brought along with her were trying their best in doing their jobs well, everything else was a complete fiasco. Firstly, every civilian was touching everything, which made it particularly hard for the team to put the basis of the entire operation, to mark the areas which couldn’t be accessed unless one was part of an investigation squad, and make sure that all evidential proof was gathered. People were loud and complaining, however, the team still somehow managed to restrain access around the territory needed for the investigation.

Secondly, by the time she approached some of the victims to take declarations, the injured were in the middle of being given medical care by emergency healers, and it had been predominantly hard to get answers to mere basic questions because most were complaining like little children; something about needing painkillers all the time. That had been especially irritating for Chantal and not pleasing at all. Not to mention that the warlock was still on the loose.

Lastly, one British wizard was specifically quite severely injured and it took Chantal quite some time to finish making preparations with the healers so they wouldn’t allow anyone access to the man until a team of Aurors would come to supervise him. Thankfully enough, her superiors from the Ministry arrived immediately after that. It had been a blessing to see them all, as despite the fact that she hadn’t stood still for even a moment, the young witch was completely freezing. In addition to that, it had been somewhat overwhelming even for an over-achiever like Chantal to single-handedly start an investigation of such magnitude. She had been informed by the Lead Auror that a more experienced team had gone after the warlock and that she should just go ahead to Headquarters and submit an official report regarding the first impressions of the situation, so they could also officially forward the details to the British Ministry. However, her superior particularly mentioned to Chantal that when she would arrive at Headquarters, she should first meet with Jonathan Emerson before starting to do her paperwork regarding this case, as it would be best if his report would match the French Ministry’s.

It was a diplomacy matter and it really irked Chantal. She understood that the British would want to be involved in the solving of the case since it had affected some of their nationals, and while it was her area of practise, the Auror felt slightly uncomfortable that she had to go meet with this British representative on her own. For once, she definitely felt little said overwhelmed by the entire situation.

Back at the Ministry, Chantal started feeling more and more nervous. She would have to be very careful about what she would say; no, not about ‘what’, but mostly about ‘how’. If anything came off wrongly from her side, this could cause a diplomatic issue and her entire career would go down the drain. Suddenly, she found herself harshly judging the Lead Auror, a figure she generally quite looked up to. As she made her way through the Ministry to the Auror quarters, Chantal was accompanied by a ghost of a former Auror who died on a mission. It was one of the ghosts that didn’t annoy her as much as the others, mostly because it was the only one to ever comment on her attires when they were nice.

Reaching the quarters near the Auror offices, Chantal took a deep breath, and then immediately coughed. The air was too fresh, far too fresh; it was obvious that many weren’t at their desks and instead were around submitting and spreading reports, along with being on the field, doing investigations. Chantal straightened her back as the ghost went through her, and flipped her hair over her shoulder upon gazing in the direction of the office door. It was now or never. What was the worse she could do, start a war with Britain?

Hoping it would not end that way, Chantal had knocked on the door twice, but got no reply. Deciding that perhaps it was a British custom not to answer when someone knocked on the door, Chantal made her way in the Aurors’ offices, her eyes landing on the unfamiliar figure of Jonathan Emerson. Or, better put, her gaze slowly going as high as possible, as the man was by far taller than she would’ve expected. She couldn’t tell if it was the entire situation which made him look intimidating, or whether it was his height that did it, or both. Chantal decided that both was the correct answer.

When he spoke, his aura seemed to be more relaxed, or perhaps even a bit youthful. Now that she was looking better at him, the French girl realised he probably wasn’t much older than she was. However, his position within this situation did offer him an imposing stance, and so Chantal decided that she would not let her guard down, thinking that he will be especially easy to talk to. “Monsieur…” She replied to his salute, a bit surprised he had spoken directly in French. “Chantal Garnier.” The Auror nodded, deciding to present herself, despite the fact that he most likely already knew who she was. Chantal noticed a file on the desk and was willing to bet half her money on the fact that it was her record.

“It is not necessary for you to bring anything, but thank you very much for offering.” Chantal took a seat and elegantly crossed her ankles on the side. She would have very much preferred to cross her legs, however, this being the first important meeting she was attending all on her own, the Auror decided not to take any kind of risks and be at her absolute best behaviour.

Taking a deep breath, Chantal pulled out of her robe’s pocket her package of cigarettes and a bright pink lighter, with the word ‘sassy’ written on it in silver glitter. She had yet to realise that the lighter would perhaps completely ruin the entire image she had tried to create, that of a very classy lady. She light up a cigarette and took a deep drag, finally feeling like she was relaxing a bit.

“My superior had told me to report to you, however, I have just come from the crime scene myself, and did not manage to write a longer summary of the entire events. Though, I can answer all the questions you may have and hopefully will succeed into clearing all your possible uncertainties.” Chantal chose every word very carefully, her state of nervousness becoming a bit more intense with each word she said. It was definitely much more noticeable now as well.

And just when she thought things couldn’t get more intense, two of her least favourite ghosts have made their way into the chamber. They weren’t doing anything so far, however only their presence was enough for Chantal to be already halfway her cigarette.