all the world was one sad cry [Iago]

Well, this certainly had not been what Joanna had been thinking when she thought of going to Italy. She had imagined wandering through beautiful architecture and Roman ruins with a gelato, wearing a floppy sun hat and admiring the masterpieces by the greats of the renaissance period. Very relaxed, very civilised. A true city break. And she had almost seen beautiful architecture when she had arrived by portkey in Neroli. She was almost able to trick herself for a few seconds that she was there on holiday. Almost.

But Joanna was not there on holiday, or for any other recreational reason. She was in Neroli on a chilly Tuesday morning for one reason, and one reason only. To officially reopen the investigation into the arson at Rose Apartments in September 1998. And yes, Italy was a weird location to reopen a British investigation but it was where Iago Moriarty lived since leaving London. Technically it would have been easier to summon him into the Ministry but following the negative publicity that MLE had received after the article in the Prophet all stops were being pulled out. They were to try and ensure that Iago would have no reason to complain to the Prophet again.

Joanna had not been involved in the initial investigation at all. It was not her team, not her remit. She had no dealings with arson apart from to apprehend arsonists and she certainly had no experience in tracking down an arsonist from four years ago. But with a good reputation and track record, she was assigned the case in order to show how serious they were about it. And she knew Iago Moriarty personally, in a way beyond that they were at Hogwarts at around about the same time. Delaney was considered his surrogate little sister and so she had spent time hanging out with him post-Hogwarts. Although a lot had changed since the last time she had seen him. Before his wife died. Before his father was denounced as a Death Eater. Before her own mother was locked up and perished.

So, maybe she couldn’t really say she knew him anymore.

She had sent flowers to Isabella’s funeral, but hadn’t attended herself. And that had been their last contact until she sent him an owl a week ago. A short, to-the-point letter that explained they were reopening the investigation. She was sure that Iago realised that his Prophet interview had been what caused it. And honestly, she couldn’t fault his words. Now that she had read the case file, the investigation had been a joke. It had been a Moriarty witch hunt (pun not intended) rather than an attempt to solve the arson. Joanna was glad the wizard in charge had retired. He had no business representing the Ministry.

Joanna spotted the purple door that she had been directed to find ahead on her left. The whole place was so pretty, so rustic. It pained her that she couldn’t linger to appreciate the beauty. Opening the door was like entering a secret garden. She had not spent much time imagining the Moriarty Italian home but this, this was something straight out her imagination. Leafy green plants framed a yellow-y townhouse with green shutters. The noise from the street faded when she closed the door, transporting her into a tranquil paradise. Wow, this was beautiful.

Her nerves building now that she was close to meeting with Iago, Joanna nevertheless pushed forwards. She was unsure how she would be able to solve a four year old arson and murder but was determined that this time no stone would be left unturned. Her only real goal for this session though was to assure Iago that the Ministry was committed to solving this, and to hopefully not have to deal with his frustrations that were so apparent in the article. She was at the actual house door now, her feet having carried her forwards while her brain imagined running away.

Knock! Knock!

Her fist rapping against the wood echoed through the stillness of the garden and she heard noise coming from inside the house. Straightening herself up, she waited for the sound of footsteps approaching the door. A man, Iago Moriarty except five years older than the last time she had seen him, opened the door although he was clearly distracted by what was going on behind him.

She smiled and extended her hand in greeting. She would be professional, who knew if he remembered her after all these years. “Hello Mr Moriarty. I am Joanna Hennings, Lead Hit Witch from the British Ministry.” If he remembered who she was then she sounded ridiculously formal and stupid. But she had started, she couldn’t stop now. “We have an appointment.”

@Iago Moriarty

The original plan had been for his children to be long gone when Joanna arrived. But as all plans involving children go, this too had gone horribly awry. First, Perdita had snuck outside to feed her breakfast to the squirrels. And ended up trying to re-plant the flowers she’d stepped on by ripping them out of the ground and sticking the unbroken leaves and flowers in the dirt, covering her bright green dress in rich black soil before smiling proudly at her father when he’d found her. That was followed shortly after by Phineas running through the halls wearing his pants on his head shouting about how he could have braids like Perry and Aunt Lala too. By the time the children were both dressed, Iago felt as though he’d aged about twelve years and gotten very little sleep in the meantime. Fortunately their Uncle Silvano had arrived to help walk the children the few blocks to the Costello home, and had been instrumental in getting their boots laced and tied properly. Iago wasn’t a stickler about many things, but dressing his children in matching outfits just seemed… right. Of course now Perdita was leaving the house in a purple dress and a pair of her brother’s pants, because she wanted to, and he was wearing a dark blue button down shirt because he’d demanded to dress like daddy today. Iago was just going to have to accept that the days of choosing his children’s outfits for them were long gone. A happy memory from when they were too young to cause as much mischief and didn’t have small minds of their own.

The knock on his door drew Iago’s attention and he let out a sigh, shaking his head and leaving his sister and cousin to handle the rowdy pair before opening the door and smiling at the young woman. She seemed so stiff and formal; not at all the woman he remembered from their nights drinking on Delaney’s couch. But she was here for work, and so was he, of a sort. “If you’d give me one ---”

“Child get your little Arse back here and put on your Bloody Jacket before I Hex your pants to the chair at Grandmother’s and tell her you’re only allowed to eat lettuce!”

Iago winced a bit at his sister’s exasperated voice and gave her a bit of a shrug. “---one moment… it appears someone may have decided to give my children twelve shots of espresso with their morning meal...” he turned back into the room where his son was not letting Silvano help him into his Jacket while Perdita argued with Lara about which hat she was going to wear. “The straw one. And any more complaints and there will be no more trips to Grandmother’s this week.” his voice was perfectly calm, as though he was discussing the weather, but both children looked at him in still silence before the little blonde girl pulled the hat down over her head and hid behind Lara’s long skirts.

With another glance back at Johana and pointedly ignoring the questions of ‘whats a hit witch?’ among others, Iago said goodbye to his children with a kiss on each of their foreheads before gently resting his hand on Joanna’s arm and leading her to the side so the four of them could exit, smiling and rolling his eyes as Silvano explained to his children that a hit witch chases down and smacks bad people with a newspaper while they made their way to the garden door that would let them out onto the street.

“I am so terribly sorry about that… some days I’m tempted to just drop them on Delaney’s doorstep and tell her that as their godmother, they’re her responsibility for the next week.” he muttered, running a hand through his hair and brushing a bit of dirt of his vest. “And you needn’t be so formal, but I appreciate you coming. My office is right over here...” he gestured to an archway to the left, conveniently near the front door. It was more of a suite, a long slender room that ran the length of the door, a large circular window sitting behind the desk at the far end, with the front half arranged more like a nice living room, decorated in deep greens and golds, with dark woods. 

Oh, it was the twins. Iago’s children. Delaney’s godchildren. Joanna didn’t think she’d seen them since they’d been babies. They certainly weren’t babies now. Was this what parenthood was like? It looked awful. How did a task as simple as getting dressed cause this much carnage? Joanna swore that she had never been like this as a child. Even as she thought it she knew it was complete crap. Her grandparents surely had many stories about how obnoxious and stubborn she had been as a little girl.

She stared almost as curiously at the twins as they gazed at her on their way past. Joanna could just hide it better than five year olds. She ignored the unknown relative’s description of a hit witch and allowed Iago’s apology to wash over her. She doubted that he would ever leave them with Delaney. She doubted that Delaney would ever leave the Burning Beard to look after them. Unless she planned on setting up childcare in one of the back rooms? But Iago Moriarty did not seem like the type of person to let his five year old children go hang out in a pub. A clean pub, but a pub nonetheless.

Brisking internally at his rebuke at her formality, Joanna smiled and replied casually. “Official business, it’s hard to break the habit.” Looking around, she decided another informal comment was in order to prove to Iago that she really was a perfectly normal, competent adult who could easily handle all social situations. Really. Completely normal. “You have a lovely home.” He did. It was very nice in that refined, museum-like way that had Joanna wondering if there was someone who simply went behind the children and fixed all the damage they no doubt caused. She much preferred her slightly messy, cosy and comfortable house.

Taking a seat on the chair that she was directed to, she placed her bag neatly on the floor. She would take out a quill and parchment in a bit to take notes, but right now it was important just to give Iago her full attention. No matter that the investigation getting reopened was what he wanted, this was no doubt hard for him. He was going to have to relive the day of his wife’s death over, and over again until she had shaken all the details from him. He would have to recount names and faces. This was not going to be a pleasant experience.

“Before we start,” Joanna began, once Iago had taken his own seat, “how are you coping with all this?” She spoke softly, carefully. He was an adult, he could decide his own emotional limitations and it would not do to appear to doubt them. But she was curious, and honestly, did not want to deal with an emotional breakdown during this interview. Or any interview. Crying, pleading, begging were all things she had had to deal with over the years from victim’s families. She had dealt with them for years, she was still as uncomfortable dealing with them as she was at age 18.

The main thing that sprung to mind was the Prophet article. It had been enough to rouse the Ministry’s attention, it had surely attracted others too. She wondered how the majority of the public viewed it. With sympathy? Or with a deal of bitterness, happy that a dark family had gotten what they deserved? They would have to talk about any backlash he had received, and what correspondence had come from the article. Who knew if there would be a lead in there.

“They’re not normally this difficult.” he murmured softly as they both watched the children leave. But he was glad to hear that she at least remembered him, and that the formal tone in her voice was more or less just default for work. He could understand that, to be sure. “Thanks. I spent the past four years stripping out my father’s horrible tastes and replacing it with less…. Gilding. Seriously, this place looked like some sort of overdone french muggle palace right before its inhabitants lost their heads.” it took him a moment to place the name. Reading up on muggle wars was a strange, but amusing pastime of his. Honestly they fought over the stupidest reasons. “Versailles. That's the one. It was atrocious.”

The room he led her into was dark gray paneled walls, and rich green furnishings complemented by dark woods. It wasn’t overdone or overdesigned, the insinuation of wealth coming more from the quality of the pieces then someone trying to cram expensive items and gold everywhere to show off. He directed her towards the armchair that sat nearest the couch, before taking a seat himself, somewhat tense. After all, this wasn’t going to be easy on him, and he knew it. But it had to be done. He had to know that something was being done, that his children would be safe. “Its been four years...” he said softly, sitting back and looking at the sketch above the fireplace, unmoving, plain, simple, but meaningful. A happy family. Lara had drawn it shortly before she’d become injured. Had intended to turn it into an actual portrait of the four of them together. But she’d not been able to finish it, and for Iago… it was perfect just the way it was. Unfinished, like their family would be.

“Honestly by this point I’m just… I’ve done my grieving, I’ve screamed with rage, I’ve let the bitterness overtake me. Now, I want to be able to move on with my life. I want to be able to come home. To bring my children home. And I want them to not live in fear that someone’s out to kill them because of the monster of a man their grandfather was. I should have seen it. Perhaps I didn't want to see it. He was evil enough to his own children that I should have suspected...” and what he had done to Lara had confirmed that, to be sure. But he wasn’t about to bring up how his father had forced his sister to become one of those vile people either. At least now, she was alright. They were going to make it through this.

“I honestly hadn’t even gone to the Prophet for that reason you know… I was hoping to just find an English speaking Govorness for my children. I need Lara’s help with our business, and she’s not in any state to be watching over children who know that if they’re quick enough, they can out run her cane.”

She could understand grief. Yes, Joanna could understand grief very well. The burning hole it left inside of you, in the pit of your stomach, the questioning as to why it had suddenly burned white hot. The questioning as to why it wasn’t you. The pleading for answers to questions that were simply unanswerable. Yes, Joanna knew grief. She was familiar with it. And it may fade with time but it was always there, in the background, ready to flare up given a trigger. A memory, a sight, a smell, a passing fancy…

It wasn’t her place to judge the family. But, honestly, how could they not know that their own father was a Death Eater?!? How could they not see the ugly ass snake curling around his forearm? How could people be so ignorant. When she had first heard about Ian Moriarty, all those years ago, Joanna had been shocked. She had let the son of a Death Eater into her home. And not an estranged son, but one that worked with his father. Surely she should have recognised the signs of Death Eater spawn? But really, there had been so much else to think about and she then hadn’t seen Iago in years. Just, how could anyone miss the signs? If they had just taken action, who knows how many lives could have been saved.

Did she show any of her thoughts though? No, Joanna kept her face passive, slightly sympathetic and chose not to respond. She personally believed that he should have seen it. Ignorance was not an excuse. Someone with those values could not keep them contained and honestly, the mindset was just as destructive as the tattooed organisation. The previous generation and their own generation were doomed, she could only hope there was hope for the future. For the twins.

“Oh,” was her response. He hadn’t gone to the Prophet to do the interview disparaging the Ministry. Interesting. If he was telling the truth that meant that it was a member of the Prophet that had wanted the failed investigation in the public eye. For what though? A misplaced sense of justice? Chaos? General contempt for the Ministry? Joanna made a mental note to try and discreetly look into that. It certainly would be a thorn in MLE’s side if the Prophet decided to keep publishing interviews with those unhappy with the Ministry. In the current climate there seemed to be too many of those. “And did you manage to find one?” She asked curiously. Personally, Joanna thought that a bit of magic could easily overcome any mobility issues but she wasn’t going to say so.

Before they could get side tracked into idle chit chat - really, Joanna did not care if Iago had managed to find a nanny - she decided to ask the other question. “Have you had much… response… to the interview you gave?” This was a much more pertinent question for her line of inquiry. “I imagine that there are many people out there that have plenty to say on the matter.” And the urge to share their opinion. But even if most of the responses were emotional offerings, there might be one shred of important information, one tiny piece to go on. In such a cold case, anything new could be what turned the thing around.

Iago shook his head slowly. "unfortunately, I have not received a single sign of Interest. I rather suspect that I won't at this point. It appears that I am to be resigned to the fate of constantly being blamed for my father's actions despite being one of his victims myself." The Welshman hoped that Joanna did not hold the same view as many of the others. She had known him, back before things got bad. She had been there while he and Delaney had talked about how insane their views were. She had to know he was nothing like his father, that he didn't share the same views.  nd she was here trying to help, he could only hope that meant she was at least a little on his side.

 when she asked about the  article however, the dark-haired man stood slowly and walked over to his desk. "My sister handles most of the mail that comes to our business. She gave these to me but cautioned me not to read them, after the article. they weren't responses for a governess, or potential clients. But we thought we should keep them anyways." he removed his wand and unlocked one of the lower drawers in his desk, removing a stack of letters that had clearly been read, though not by him. "from her vague statements about them, and what I could infer, they're rather scathing letters in response to the article. I only skimmed the first one… it wasn't pretty."

Iago set the stack of letters down in front of her, before retaking his own seat, letting out a sigh. "I was going to just burn them. But if you think they'd be useful… you're welcome to them." He shifted again in his seat, the entire subject making him uncomfortable but knowing it had to be done. "Would you like anything to drink, or eat? Tea? I think there is still some of the peanut butter cookies that Perdita made yesterday left."

She picked up the stack of parchments eagerly. “Thank you,” Joanna remembered to say. “It might be mostly vile spewings but there may be something in one.” Part of her wanted to start reading them now, to dive into possibly the only new lead they had for the whole investigation. But she wasn’t alone in the room and she really should focus on the man in front. There would be plenty time for reading in her office later. And they might all simply be hate mail, Joanna had to remind herself. There might be absolutely nothing in any of them that was of any note. Simply members of the public outraged that the son of a Death Eater was getting media attention. She couldn’t even blame them…

The exchange of papers meant, in Joanna’s eyes, that they were done with small talk so as she placed the bundle of letters in her bag she withdrew her Dictation-Quill and a huge bundle of blank parchment. She would not use, or ever authorise the use of, a Quick-Quotes quill for interviews. As far as Joanna was concerned they did the exact same thing as corrupting evidence. What was justice when a quill could decide what was and was not important? And even a Dictation-Quill could not cover everything. An interviewer had to analyse body language, hand gestures, facial expressions too. No, people that thought a quill could do the majority of their job for them were deeply deluded. And she had a stack of snapped Quick-Quotes quills in her office bin to prove it.

Iago looked uncomfortable and she was a bit concerned for what it meant for the rest of the meeting. If just discussing the reaction to the article put him in that state, she could only imagine what he would be like when she insisted on a full briefing on the hatred and threats the family had received all those years ago. Joanna didn’t enjoy making people uncomfortable, but it needed to be done. Treating Iago with kid gloves wouldn’t help solve the case, if it even could be solved. But she accepted his subject change. This time.

“I’ll have a tea, thank you.” Joanna replied, not mentioning the proffered cookies. Cookies made by a five year old… no thank you. She would leave those for Delaney. Eating food that could potentially poison you was a Godmother’s duties, right? “Just milk please.” Please Merlin let the tea have no contamination from the children. But if the act of providing a beverage helped settle him then she would contribute. After all, she didn’t have to drink it. Damn, if she was in Italy for anything else apart from work she would have the nicest food and drink on offer. The pastas, the gelato, the pizza that she could be having right now if she was a few streets over in a restaurant. Authentic Italian food. But it wasn’t to be.

She waited until they were settled again. Pleasantries had been exchanged, a beverage had been served, it was time. “I don’t expect this to be easy,” Joanna began, clearly the silence that had fallen. “And anytime you want to take a break or you need to stop then please do so.” Well, as long as he didn’t want too many breaks. She would rather not take the midnight portkey back to London. “Just, tell me as best as you can what happened.” A simple, open statement that would allow Iago to say his piece. Joanna could then start to question from there. A tap of the wand turned the dictation quill on. She expected the transcribe that she would have to analyse later would be lengthy.

Iago once again straightened up and walked over to a panel on the wall, sliding it open and tapping it with his wand. The dumbwaiter lifted and a tea set appeared, still steaming. He took the tray and brought it over to where they were sitting, fixing her tea for her. The cookies on the tray certainly didn’t look like a five year old had made them, at least not without a ton of help. “Are you going to be in Neroli long? I can at least recommend a good place to eat before you go back.” he offered while he arranged things, before passing her the tea. After all, as much as he loved England, this place had a soft spot for him. And it would be a shame for her to make such a trip only to run off before seeing anything of the wizarding city. He poured himself a cup of tea, black, before settling back himself, resigned to the fact that there could be no more distractions.

He took a drink of his tea, before taking a deep, heavy breath. “No, it won’t. But fortunately for us both I have relieved that day a dozen times in my own mind, wondering what I could have done differently… my memory of it remains clear.” another drink of his tea, to pause and collect his thoughts. Before nodding to her as if to signal that he was ready, recognising the dictation quill.

“It was a hot day. Really hot. Odd for september. I only remember because the charms that were supposed to keep the apartments cooler weren’t working.” in hindsight, that should have been his first clue that something was going wrong. " they were old. My grandfather had them installed. I spent most of my morning trying to find someone who could come in and repair them because it's not the sort of thing that I understand all that well. I was in the top floor apartment that was my home and office, with my children."

He paused, thinking back, wanting to remember relevant details. "The sound. I didn't realize it till weeks later, but I could hear the woman in the apartment below me yelling at her children. There should have been charms in place to prevent sound from carrying between Apartments as well." There had been little hints, subtle annoyances. But no one had really reported them. " whatever it was done had to have been done either in the very early morning or sometime before 10 a.m. I only know this because there were two different parties going on that night in the building. And if the charms have been down before then, we would have received many complaints from tenants trying to sleep because the noise of the parties would have interrupted their rest." He was pretty sure she was probably wondering why he felt all this was important. " the Moriarty Rose Apartments had three main charms. A cooling and warming charm, for comfort, sound barriers, and fire suppression… even if the spells in place could not have put out a fire, they should have contained it to a single flat."

He stopped there for the moment, drinking more of his tea. "The smoke got to me first… came right up the main stairwell into the top floor. My office is nearest that… was. My office was nearest the entrance to the main stairwell. So that residents with appointments did not need to enter my home. I could tell the smoke was coming up the stairwell and when I opened the door, it was just a wall of smoke. I had to close it quickly…" that was the hardest part for him. That moment of panic, realizing there was a fire, and he had no way to get to his wife. He swallowed before drinking more tea, and took a deep breath. "I grabbed my children from their crib… they weren't even a year yet, and small for their age. I knew I couldn't get down the fire escape with them in my arms, and if the fire suppression charms had failed, I couldn't guarantee that even those would be safe… so we made our way into the roof… to the owlery I kept for the residents. Several others had managed to get up there… with their own children… we had enough adults who could apparate, so we were all able to get down to street level… we were covered in soot… but alive. If hogwarts had not been in session..." he didn't dare think of how many others would have been on that roof.

Unfortunately for Joanna this was not a social call and, as such, she did not have the luxury of going out for dinner after the appointment. She would instead be getting the first available portkey back to London, ready for a long night of pulling out the pertinent facts from this interview. While there was no requirement for her to actually do that immediately, it was better done while it was still fresh in her mind and, honestly, by tomorrow she would no doubt be busy and distracted by something else. As was life in MLE, there was always something else.

Italian dinner did sound so good though…

But no, Joanna couldn’t afford herself the distraction it would present. And also, eating in a restaurant by herself during her first time in Italy. Well, there was certainly something tragic about it. Maybe one day she would take that trip with Graeme. She could eat as much as she wanted then.

Picking up her cup, Joanna nodded encouragingly as Iago began talking. She let him finish without interruptions, occasionally tapping her wand to the quill to ensure certain statements were underlined. While some of his commentary was unimportant, other parts raised questions. But that was human recollection for you. Everyone had certain details that they considered important, especially if a tale had personally affected them. The size of Iago’s twins. The weather. It had been the smell of Azkaban that horrible day that still stuck with Joanna all these years on. The brain was a complex organ. She doubted they would ever fully unravel it’s mysteries.

Once Iago had finished, or rather lapsed into silence, Joanna allowed him a brief period of contemplation. In her mind there was no point in thinking about the ‘ifs’, especially the ifs from so long ago. Hogwarts had been in session therefore the loss of life was lower than it could have been. There was no point on dwelling about what if it had been higher. Although, the arson occurring so soon after Hogwarts had returned may have been planned. Maybe the arsonist hadn’t wanted to burn down a building with children in it? She kept those thoughts private though. She would explore that line of enquiry back in London, there was no point in speculating until there was something to actually go on.

“Thank you for that,” Joanna started with, drawing him out of thoughts of a greater tragedy. “Now, if it’s okay with you,” well it had to be, but it was polite to check, “I’m going to begin to ask some questions on the details.” Details that she should already have on file from the initial investigation but didn’t. For Merlin sakes there hadn’t even been a floorplan of the building in there. “If you cannot remember anything that’s fine, just try to answer the best you can. If anything additional comes back later then you can just contact me.” Joanna expected that they would be in frequent contact for the months to come.

“First of all, did you have a regular contact who dealt with the wards? When was the last time they had been checked prior to September 8th” It sounded like it was the wards she should be trying to get as many details about as possible. If the wards had remained intact, the fire shouldn’t have even started. The arsonist had to have known that. They had to have been capable of removing complicated wards. Or they had help.

Iago finished off his tea, once again wishing he had something harder. Perhaps… after. After she was gone and he was left alone with his thoughts. He could have a shot of something to steady his nerves before he joined his children at their grandmother’s for dinner. And hopefully there would be no follow up interrogation there. Sometimes the Costellos had the good sense to leave things be. Other times… they were a very close family who just had to know every detail about someone’s life.  But for now, she had asked more questions, and he wanted to answer them. Anything that would find who had murdered the mother of his children. His Isabella.

“The man who originally installed the wards… he’d been a friend of my grandfathers. They were nearly a hundred years old.” perhaps he should have been more diligent, had them stripped and replaced when he’d taken over. But if it was still working, why fix it. “He used to come and check them once every ten years, and then his son… his grandson hadn’t gotten into the business however, so they closed their doors about twelve years ago. It took some time to find someone new, but my sister interviewed several and sent me the best. I had them checked when I first took over at eighteen… and then again in 1996. My goal was to have them checked more often, considering their age, but in that entire time we’d only had two reported incidents, and that was someone trying to install a fireplace to their flat trying to bypass the wards, so that they didn’t have to go down to the main lobby to use the floo network. The other was someone trying to adjust the heating and cooling charms, so that they could make their apartment a lot colder in the summer months.” he shook his head. Some people were never satisfied with what they were provided. Those charms weren’t standard in wizarding flats, but the Moriarty family felt that providing certain minor luxuries helped get better tenants. And they’d been right.

He was pleased that she’d honed in on the same issue that he had, hoping that this time, something would actually come from it. “I did ask the man if he could go back over the building after the fire… on my own expense, to see if the wards had failed or if they’d been tampered with… his results were not conclusive, but I can give you his report. Perhaps you’ll find something more in there that I might have missed...” it was the first time Iago had admitted to trying to do the job that the ministry had refused to do. He straightened up, finishing his tea and then brought the report to himself from a cabinet near his desk. “At the very least, you’ll be able to go speak to him yourself. Perhaps he can be more clear on the nature of the wards, and how they were set up. Honestly I knew little more then that they worked.”

Joanna listened carefully as Iago talked, only taking a sideways glance to make sure the quill was taking careful note of the names. Not that the names of those once in business would be important. However, Joanna could check out their company documents and see if the original ward layouts were available. It would certainly be useful to see if any changes had been made from when they were first installed. It would be even more useful to see how easily accessible the documents on them were. “Do you remember what the company was called?” Joanna asked gently when he took a break.

She imagined even though the company had folded, the grandson, whoever he was, would retain some of the paperwork. If he had anything related to the Rose Apartments then he was worth investigating. Adamson. Joanna would keep that surname in mind. She certainly hadn’t heard of them, but what did Joanna really know about Warding companies? Not a lot given that her own property wards were very basic and completed by the Ministry. By the end of this Joanna had a feeling she would know far more about wards for private and residential properties than she had ever thought to know prior.

So the wards had been checked two years before the fire? She wasn’t in the position to comment but, personally, Joanna would have had them checked more regularly. Just think about the problems unchecked wards caused. The Hogwarts Dome was the first and biggest incident to spring into mind, but she imagined there were others too. Maybe she should try speaking to a friend over in Regulations about advising regular ward checks. Maybe it had already happened following the Dome though? Either way it was worth checking out.

Honestly, Joanna could understand the incidents. Not that she would have tried to vandalise a rented flat but, there was a bliss in stepping out the fireplace into your own flat rather than into a lobby then having to go up several floors to get into your home. But some people seemed to view things with less respect. Iago certainly didn’t seem happy with either incident, so Joanna nodded sympathetically and allowed him to move on.

“Thank you,” Joanna said as she took the paperwork from his hands. It would be another thing to look at later. “I’m sure this will be very helpful.” Should she? It would either make him feel slightly comfortable, and relate him to her, or make him question her competence at investigating the case. The angle of ease won out. “I am also not a wards expert Iago, but I imagine I’m going to learn a lot over the next little while.” She let out a small laugh, “you can quiz me in a few weeks!”

Attempt at humour and bonding over, Joanna returned to her questions. “I understand it was a terrible time for everyone and, certainly, emotions and tempers were running high, but can you possibly give me any idea of who you think might have wanted to harm you or your family?” Well, that was a broad topic and Joanna’s eyes widened slightly at the amount of information she expected to receive.

“How about we start with business connections?” She said, to try and control the flow of information. “Did your father’s discovery affect any of those?” Joanna wouldn’t be surprised if it had. Profits, connections, everything in the business world was intertwined and reputation was seen as everything. She couldn’t imagine there wouldn’t be business associates who had been blindsided and left worse off following the news. Especially given that any work rebuilding following the war was not given to families or business with Death Eater connections.

Iago, pressed his lips together thoughtfully. “I don’t recall exactly, but it should be in the documents I gave you… it was simple, Wards by Adamson, or Adamson’s Wards… something along those lines.” within the first two minutes of their conversation, Joanna had already gotten more information then the previous man. The bastard had even at one point implied that perhaps Iago had set the fire himself in an attempt to gain sympathy for his family, after their family name was dragged through the mud. But Iago had meant what he said at the beginning of the Interview. He was past it. He really just wanted to end all of this, so he could move on with his life. Home. his children had only ever been to the estate once. Their mother’s funeral. Their only memories of Neroli. Would they hate England? He mused. It took him a moment to shake himself from his thoughts, realizing that she’d spoken. Laughed even.

“I’m sorry, what… oh.” the Welshman smiled at her joke. “Perhaps I shall have to see if you can recommend me a good one when I’m done with this. I’d like to have the wards on my family estate in wales checked before bringing my children there… they’ve never seen it.” there was a hint of nostalgia and wistfulness in his words, but the look on his face said that wasn’t something he wished to discuss for the time being. “Unfortunately records of everyone who had been ‘evicted’ were burned in the fire...” but Iago couldn’t imagine that any of them would have wished him Ill. yes, he’d thrown them out, but only because he’d been legally required to turn them over to the ministry. And he’d made that very clear, that in 24 hours someone from the ministry was coming, and that they should flee. Or at least Isabella had. Iago had allowed her to handle that, because it had been her idea. And there was something sick in his mind about arresting people for their bloodstatus. Certainly pure bloodlines had their merits, but to rid the world of anyone who had the good fortune to rise from the dregs of muggle life and become a wizard? That was foolishness at best. But he kept his mouth shut on that. His views were such that he could anger wizards on both sides of the issue simultaneously with them. And anymore, everyone had a side.

Thankfully Joanna had an elaboration on the question, and he could answer that more readily. “The Rose apartments were only about two thirds full. We’d never had that many empty flats… the Bar still saw plenty of buisness of course. One has to wonder however, why the Rose Apartments and not the Moriarty Flats… that was the largest of our buildings, and carried the family name...” his mind went back to the evicted tenants, wondering if that was more likely a scenario suddenly. He’d been trying to save them! “And of course, My personal business… I owned an events center, parties, art shows, seminars and the like… we used to get a lot of business from the ministry before it was taken over, and even after, though I suspect for different reasons. I encouraged my wife to stop working there when that happened… Her family, according to them, were the wrong sort of pureblood; and I wanted her safe… so… I suggested she work at the Rose instead...” there it was, the reason he blamed himself for her death, out in the open. He knew it was foolish, but he couldn’t help himself. “Had it not burned along with the Rose, I suspect it would have been out of business.”

“I suppose it's also possible...” he hadn’t really thought about it before, but the thought of his wife brought a new pool of potential culprits to light. “After the war I was quick to disavow my father’s actions, though it mostly fell on deaf ears. It is possible that it was someone who believed in such things, and saw both my words, and my marriage to a Sutcliffe as treachery.”