Why don't you fill me up, buttercup? [Elias]

Jonathan was getting testy.

It was a rare emotion, especially for a man who was especially known for being sociable and patiently finding common ground to work with the most irascible and uncongenial of wizards. Perhaps it was his lack of sleep, with Jon having stayed up all night to finish a docket. He also hadn’t been sleeping well in general, not in the last few months. But the young man had great reserves of energy, and for many it was difficult to tell the difference between a fully rested Jonathan and a tired one, as both could talk your ears off with just about anything.

Perhaps it was nature of his current assignment, dealing with multiple foreign wizards and witches, and making sure messages and intentions were accurately communicated. There were several of them sitting or crouching over the long mahogany table, poring over papers, runes, and notes. They were going over details of the most recent Hogwarts disaster, which was not some outside attack, but some old, complex spell gone awry.

The Headmistress and other Hogwarts Professors assured the Ministry that they would get to the root of the matter, and Shacklebolt–whether respecting his history with McGonagall or the lessons learnt from previous Ministry meddling at the school–yielded to Hogwarts’ autonomy. However, the Ministry could not appear as if it were doing nothing. The British magical community had gone through far too many ordeals in too close a span, and the Ministry’s image was still tarnished, and needed to prove itself as a trustworthy institution. Shacklebolt may have yielded to McGonagall's wishes regarding the school, but that didn't stop him from pursuing his own investigations.

There were many officials on the ground, and that meant mountains of reports to compile. But from the reports they were able to analyse, there were a few priority cases that were made: the Ministry was to assist in the restoration, but another objective was to understand the spell that created the dome and prevent another such tragedy. Of a more controversial nature, there were department officials who advocated replicating such a spell to guard the Ministry and prevent a coup like in the last war. Jonathan surmised that this task would have gone to the Department of Mysteries, but the Ministry definitely did not have enough talent within their ranks to pursue such research. Otherwise, Jon's department would not have been summoned and involved.

And so here they were, with wizards and witches from all over Britain and Europe, two from Egypt, and even one official from China, coordinating with a few Unspeakables to make sure all conversations did not leave past the room. All of them were respected experts in various fields, from cursebreaking to runic lore to transfiguration scholarship. Hogwarts did not make old-magicks a core part of its present curriculum, there were relatively few people the Ministry could turn to in-house. But other schools, with Durmstrang in particular, produced quite a few notable names in these subjects.

Much of their notes came from Ministry officials who had managed to get into the Dome before and witnessed the chaos firsthand. Jonathan himself contributed greatly in that regard, although if he could, he wished he’d never have to re-read and re-live any of what he’d transcribed. Naturally, most of the sensitive information was redacted. Even if the Ministry needed foreign help, they were wary of providing too much detail into what was essentially a security issue. And that was where the frustrations began to well from.

“For the hundredth time, Melnikoff, you haven’t got clearance to know. No, not clarity, clearance! Clearance! Avtorizatsiya!” Jonathan had been going back and forth with this particular wizard for the better part of the morning. Melnikoff had a brilliant brain, but an even bigger nose, wanting to know every particular detail. Jon knew how difficult it was to work with missing information, but his hands were tied about what he could share. Even Jonathan, who authored a number of these reports, was given back redacted versions. I can’t believe I’m not allowed to read even my own memos!

In any case, the goal of this particular session was to gather the skeleton of the spell, understanding the basic framework and layers of its creation. For now, much of the talk dealt in theory, of possible combinations of layered spells. The Russian wizard slid a parchment scroll toward Jonathan, with three sets of inscriptions. Jonathan put on his reading glasses, working through the notations.

“So, you’re saying if the first layer included this rune, it would transfigure nearby tiles into pterosaurs? But these transfiguration runes would require a circle of seven for enscribing that spell, and our reports say that we’re dealing with a circle of nine embedded in threes. Yes, nine! That’s in the report.” Jonathan was now shuffling papers, pointing the relevant excerpt. “See, nine! No it’s not the report number, this is report number 17, see in the corner here!”

More bickering ensued, and Melnikoff snapped that he’d have to redo his calculations over. That caused a protest from a witch across the table who had been working with Melnikoff’s premises to figure out summoning locations for the Inferi that appeared on the grounds. Another hour in, and they were barely ahead from where they started that morning. Jonathan decided they all needed to take their lunch breaks, let off some steam, and recharge.

They left the meeting room with a scattering of grumbles and muttered curses. Jonathan himself almost lost his trademark grin for a few seconds, but ultimately kept his attitude up. He looked back at the meeting room, watching his subordinates organise their notes and place new ones onto their board. He smiled faintly as he recalled his time in their ranks. Life was much simpler then, and far less stressful. If only they could trade places, even just for today. Jonathan shook his head and closed the door, but kept his smile. He needed to keep focus and keep his energy.

Besides, he was expecting yet another expert to join their productive discussions any moment now, some German bloke who was contracted to help in the afternoon session. He was hoping their next session would run more smoothly, but if not, Jonathan needed to make sure he could handle another talking head in this eclectic mix.

Either way, Jon needed a large brew of coffee if he was going to make it through the end of the day. Walking at a fast clip toward the canteen, Jonathan spotted a face and slowed at his cubicle.

“Hey mate. Dorkler, was it? Any news of my guy coming in?”


@Elias Dörfler

Things at the Ministry had been mad lately. Elias had really hoped that, over three months after the dome falling, they could have all gotten back to regular hours and normal levels of stress. He loved his work and being at the office, but he loved his home life too and it was getting a bit draining to be in early and home late every single weekday. And on Saturdays.

Today the big crisis was that Herr Huntgeburth, a German expert in the spawning of creature-like magic who was supposed to have been in meetings all morning, was no where to be found. He was supposed to have met with some of the English diplomats, given a presentation on his current research in the summoning and birthing of creatures with dark magic, and then had lunch with the rest of the German represenatives stationed permanently in London before joining a team of experts to provide his opinion on the nature of the creatures at Hogwarts: had they been magically summoned, or had they somehow been at the school all along?

Elias was a bit put-out that he had missed an opportunity to have a fancy luncheon and had instead spent the morning running around the Ministry in Berlin, trying to find out how Huntgerburth had been double-booked. It turned out, after two hours of being sent to different people with different explanations, that the man was out doing some inspection in Bayern for the morning and had been incorrectly told his visit to London would be next week. Elias had successfully negotiated the rescheduling of Huntgeburth's afternoon and had returned to the Ministry in London himself only an hour before, frustrated but relieved that things would be fine.

But now Huntgerburth was late, and Elias hadn't yet gotten a response to the owl he had sent, asking after the man. He really hoped he wouldn't have to apparate back to Berlin again that afternoon and drag the man back with him; he had thought the days of popping back and forth between the two ministries had been behind him. Elias glanced down at his watch and wondered if he could be spared for five minutes; he could really use an espresso. He grabbed a folder, figuring he might as well drop off the files for his supervisor on his way, when he was intercepted by Emerson.

"Dörfler, yes," he responded automatically. His name was rarely pronounced correctly, but this was a new one. Fortunately, the nature of the mistake went unnoticed and Elias corrected him politely, his non-nativity to the English language being the only thing preventing him from growing offended at Jonathan's new nickname for him. "Didn't anyone tell you? He hasn't even made it to England yet, there was a miscommunication with the group in Berlin and he had another commitment this morning. He was supposed to be here by now, though. I've sent another message over, but there's been no word." He sincerely hoped the other man would be patient and not ask him to pop back over to Berlin. He had been happy to go that morning -- it felt good to help avert a crisis -- but four journeys across Europe in one day was a lot, even for him.

"Let me see if I can at least find you something useful," he added, not wanting to seem unhelpful. Elias turned to his filing cabinet and pulled upon a drawer, searching for the file on Huntgeburth. He pulled out the folder and flipped through the parchment, hoping to find what he was looking for. "Ah! I at least have the abstract from the presentation he was supposed to make this morning, and a copy of the notes we sent him for the meeting this afternoon. Maybe those will at least give you an idea of what he might want to talk about when he does arrive?"

Jonathan had been hoping for a short response. A Why, yes! He’s on his way up the lift! or perhaps even a Sorry, mate, but he’ll be up in shortly. But Dorkler’s mouth kept going, and long answers to a simple question never boded well. Jonathan’s easy smile retreated into a stony, pursed lips, and his eyes lost their friendly gaze, widening with incredulity. Whatever happened to German punctuality?! He stared at the young man with sharp attention, as if each turn of phrase was prey to pounce on. Miscommunication. Another commitment. Not even in England. Not. even. in. England.

Once the words sunk in, Jonathan released his fierce stare, his eyes more distant, no longer interested at what was unfolding before him. He lazily looked on as the German official shuffled through his file and kept on talking, strings of words that sounded like they were spoken at the other end of a long tunnel: muffled, hazy. At least the young man had a pleasant voice, the kind of nice soothing tone that you can just put in the back of your mind. Pleasant as his voice was, Elias’s words gave little comfort to Jon’s current dilemma. His words simply could not replace what Jonathan needed to hear. And the proffered file―an abstract and notes―was a pitiful substitute for an actual expert presenting world-class research to some of the brightest brains in magical academia. Besides, a glance at the notes revealed that the file was something Jon had actually seen, prepared by the Ministry a week ago.

There was a span of uncomfortable silence after Elias had spoken. Jon’s thoughts were drifting further and further away from the German in front of him, trying to play out scenarios in his head. His team was already struggling due to lack of information, and their expert on dark creatures was a crucial member if they were to make any progress today. He needed to think, but the stress from earlier in the day was depleting his energy reserves.

Focusing back on the young man, Jonathan smiled weakly and waved his hands, politely declining the file. ‘Thank you, Dorkler, but I reckon a strong brew would be of greater assistance.’ Jonathan caught himself and realised his response may not have sounded as appreciative as he would have liked to have been. The official was trying to be helpful, and it was best to channel his frustrations elsewhere. He thought about heading down the cafe, but Jonathan recalled seeing Melnikoff go down the lift, probably with the same idea. He’d rather not bump into the Russian if he could avoid it.

‘Perhaps he’ll arrive soon enough, but until then, would you care to join me for a coffee break?’ Jonathan tilted his head toward the direction of the floor’s recently opened Welcome Lounge, hoping to have kind company for even the briefest of moments.

The look on Jonathan's face at his words did not encourage Elias to help him any further. It was hardly his fault that the German Ministry had somehow managed to tell the man the wrong date and sent him off to the south on some other mission, or that they still hadn't managed to call him back even after Elias had spent the morning working the situation out. Elias was certain that all the preparations that had gone into the visit had been done properly on his end of things. No matter Elias' annoyance, though, it would hardly help anything to get snippy with Emerson. He kept his mouth shut as he waited for the other man to look over the file he was holding out to him.

It felt a bit foolish to be standing there with his arm outstretched, holding out an opened manila folder so that the other man could read what was inside without the trouble of actually holding the documents himself. Emerson was certainly taking his time, staring rather blankly at the document as he apparently made up his mind about whether or not he was interested in the information Elias was offering him. After a while, Emerson finally seemed to come back into the moment and dismissed the document. Elias took it back silently and placed it back in the drawer from which he had pulled it, choosing not to correct the man’s repeated mispronunciation of his name. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one who had had a trying day, and pushing the point with someone so obviously out of it really wasn’t worth the time or energy.

Elias looked over again in surprise at the invitation to join his colleague for coffee. He had half-expected him to just wander away given that he had hardly shown an interest in conversation before now. Despite his annoyance with the other man, he had just been on his way to get a coffee himself before Emerson had stopped him. There was no point forming a grudge against him when they had all been working overtime lately; tensions were bound to build up. Elias would much prefer to be the voice of calm and reason in the office rather than one of the people responsible for the bad mood.

“Thank you,” Elias replied politely, nodding in response to the invitation after only a moment of hesitation. He followed the man over toward the lounge he had indicated, nodding and offering a few waves to the colleagues he passed with whom he was on friendly terms. Elias had been to the Welcome Lounge a few times since it had opened with guests from Germany, but it wasn’t usual for him to use it on his own. He had been under the impression it was really meant more for entertaining visitors than for the regular employees, but he wasn’t going to argue. Besides, he had heard through the grapevine that Jonathan had been involved in the creation of the lounge somehow, and being in his company would probably give him a pass to be there.

“How are the preparations for the conference coming on your end?” Though talking about work was hardly the best thing for his stress levels, Elias knew little about the man beyond their professional relationship. The question was a safe place to start.