Eris exited the elevator in a whirlwind of black robes, storming into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in such a way that made it clear she was not to be deterred from reaching her destination. She had just left Courtroom Three, where she had spent an hour of her life that she would never get back listening to the defence counsel argue that their client importing Rougarous to the moors of Devon was intended to protect the species from possible extinction, rather than a dangerous (and, in Eris’ opinion, idiotic) act that put both wizards and muggles in danger. One unwitting muggle hiker had in fact been attacked, but had been set to rights by the St Mungo’s staff, had his memories modified by the Obliviators, and sent on his merry way home none-the-wiser about his near-death experience.
The defendant had, in fact, knowingly bred the American creatures after illegally importing them, with the intent to rid the West Country of muggles and ‘claim it for wizardkind once more’. That was why Eris had been present – along with another of her colleagues from the Investigation Department – to present the evidence to support their findings. A colossal waste of her time, really. Send him to the mental ward and be done with it. He wasn’t evil, just an imbecile.
Eris’ assistant was either unbelievably brave or incredibly stupid, for he chose to scurry along after Eris as she strode down the walkway between cubicles towards her office at the far end. “What is it, Lewis?” she spat, not containing her disgust at his presence.
”Ms Rosier, I just wanted to know if you needed me to get you anything for your meeting? Tea or—”“What?” She halted and turned on the spot. “When?”
“You have a meeting in three minutes.““What about? Who?”
“Amelia Lennox, Goblin Liaison Office—”“Oh for Merlin’s sake,” she rolled her eyes and carried on to her office, wordlessly unlocking it by waving her hand over the door handle before turning it. She paused and twisted to face the redhaired young man, “Send a memo to Wilkins, I told her we could discuss Rhyader but it can wait.” Her hand was still on the doorknob. “I’ll go to her, even, once I’m through here.” She added as an afterthought, thinking how best to avoid any further interruptions to her day.
Eris had barely stepped into her office when Amelia followed her in. She glanced down at the woman’s outstretched hand, waiting a moment before taking it in a firm grip. “For you, perhaps,” she replied, surprisingly not unkindly, thinking about her own morning and how it had been anything but
good. The blonde witch moved to the far side of her desk and looked Amelia over from head-to-toe, sizing her up before she sat down. She was
@John Lennox’s wife –
ex-wife, rather – and Eris couldn’t help but wonder what John had seen in her. She was beautiful, in a sad sort of way, but she didn’t give off any kind of aura that suggested she was the type of woman John would like to spend time with. Well, there was a reason they were divorced, she supposed.
The Auror pulled her chair in and rested her hands in front of her on the desk, interlinking her long fingers. “Very busy,” she replied, not one to mince her words, her cold eyes not leaving Amelia’s face as she waffled on in what Eris presumed was an attempt to make small talk. Rhyader, yes, all very sad. Eris’ only regret about the goings-on in the Welsh village were that she didn’t know who this supposed ‘Dark Widow’ was, that whoever it was hadn’t taken out more muggles in the process, and that the whole thing was threatening her own movement’s agenda. She didn’t bother to pull a sympathetic expression out of her arsenal, she could already tell Amelia would see through it.
Eris sat up straighter and cut across the other woman’s neurotic rambling with a clear, even tone: “How can I help you,
Ms Lennox?” Emphasis on the Ms, because she knew that that sat poorly with some women. Not Eris. She would rather be Ms Rosier than Miss (girlish) or, worse still, Mrs Boyd: aging widow. Amelia had obviously clung to her ex-husband’s surname – for the sake of her daughter, Eris assumed. Melissa had done the same thing. Something about having the same family name as your child, blah blah, sentimental rubbish.
“As you have already surmised, I
am indeed very busy and while I am only too happy to assist the Goblin Liaison Office with their valuable work, I do not have the luxury of wasting time, what with
everything going on in my department,” she smiled venomously, repeating Amelia’s words back to her. Eris’ light eyes darted to an open file to her right, movement in the photograph catching her attention;
@Gaius Purcell's mugshot was peering up at them charmingly in between blurry shots of two men shaking hands, a rustic farmhouse in the countryside, and a cutting from
The Daily Prophet, amongst other documents. She moved to close the folder before collecting her hands in front of her again. “What do you need?”
