And I'm not scared of your stolen power I see right through you any hour (Eris)

“Level Two: Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” the polite, disembodied voice of the elevator chimed as the brass grate slid open dropping the elevator passengers into a dark tiled hallway. Two wizards in tweed robes shuffled out into the hallway scurrying to a door near the elevator and disappearing within. Behind them a glamorous witch stood skimming the summons in her hand for the name of her appointment. Outfitted in a stylish tailored Beauxbatons blue dress and an elaborately beaded airy cape that skimmed the floor Farren Abercrombie stood out amongst the paper pushers of the Ministry buzzing around.

Farren slid the summons into her navy leather satchel hanging from her wrist where she also stored the charter, Ministry non-profit license, and informational pamphlet for her Society. Her beige high heels clicked rhythmically against the black tiles as she made her way down the hall to the Auror Department. It was a walk she was familiar with. Her first visit had come in 1998 regarding the death of her mother. Though her mother had died in The Battle of Hogwarts the family had gone to great lengths to conceal this from the public and distance themselves from the Death Eaters. As far as the public was concerned Victoria Abercrombie had been bed ridden for months before and after the battle, finally dying in October 1998. Aurors had pressed the family to let them see the corpse and submit it to Mungo’s for an official autopsy but with nothing to go on but suspicion their request had been unviable in legal terms. In later 1998 they stopped chasing Victoria and thus stopped calling Farren into their offices. Again she’d returned to these offices in 2000 to sign for the release of her cousin, Pyxis Hartridge-Abercrombie, from Azkaban.

A high wooden desk sat just through the entrance to the Auror Department, a large open room filled with cubicles and buzzing with activity. “Hello Miss, how can I help you?” a ruddy cockney accent greeted her from behind the desk where a young man, still afflicted by teenage acne, sat manning reception. Farren gave a terse little smile to the boy who appeared to be addressing letters at the desk and manning a paper log in sheet. “I have a two o’clock appointment with Eris Rosier,” she said matter of factly refusing to openly announce she was here because she was summoned. The boy skimmed his log in sheet momentarily, “Miss Farren Victoria Abercrombie is it?” The witch gave a curt nod, “Indeed, that would be me.” Scribbling something on the log in the boy sprung to his feet and notified her that he would confirm Eris was in her office and ready to meet.

Standing alone at the desk Farren glanced around the room. Wanted posters and anti-Dark Magic PSA posteres lined the walls. She couldn’t help but rolling her eyes as she noticed a poster advertising anti-home invasion spells. Utter rubbish, everyone knew to truly protect your house it had to be untraceable and protected by blood wards. These posters, like most of the drivel out of the Ministry, was utter non-sense. It was as if they wanted witches and wizards to remain crude and undeveloped. No wonder she had been summoned here to discuss her Society. In late 2001 she had founded The Society for Traditional Magic Preservation, a registered non-profit with Ministry whose mission statement was to promote traditional magical culture, practice, and traditions to all magical people regardless of background. Of course the people who published a PSA about protecting your home with 5th year level defense spells wouldn’t like someone related to multiple Death Eaters promoting their idea of magical tradition.

“Alright then, follow me Miss,” the boy had reappeared around a cubicle wall and was motioning for Farren to follow him. Heels clicking, the beaded hem of her cape sliding behind her she followed the boy in mismatched black trousers and coat around a line of cubes and to a small open office door. He stepped back and motioned her towards the open door. With a final terse smile she nodded to him and stepped into the small office. Eric Rosier was blonde and handsome for her age. It hadn’t escaped Farren that more than one Rosier had been involved in the war on their side. What was this one doing here? Betraying her people? The office though neat was quite small so with two steps on her long legs she was well within the room. “Miss Rosier,” she started in her usual cool, icy tone, “I’m Farren Abercrombie. What is it I can do for you today?” she asked pulling the summons from her purse and holding it up her head tilted ever so slightly questioning just what in the world she was doing here.

”Ms Rosier, Miss Abercrombie is here to see you.”
 
Eris didn’t bother to look up from the paperwork she was currently pouring over (the latest in the search for Quigley, an Auror who had gone missing a few weeks prior in the line of duty). “Bring her to me.” The blonde witch dipped her quill in the crystal ink well and made a few quick notes in deep scarlet before placing the crow feather down on its rest, and lifting her head to receive her visitor. The Auror remained seated as Farren Abercrombie sashayed her way into the modest office; Eris’ face was impassive as she looked the younger woman up-and-down. A quiet sigh escaped her and she gestured at the padded wooden chair on the other side of her large desk. “Please, take a seat.”
 
Eris lifted her wand and waved it at the door, effectively slamming it in Lewis’ face before he could offer to get Miss Abercrombie a cup of tea or some other unnecessary nicety. “Thank you for coming in, and on such short notice.” Eris’ words were polite but there was a definite undertone of disdain seeping into them. The ink sufficiently dry, Eris folded the file on Quigley closed and slid it to one side. She sat up a little straighter. “I’m sure you’re wondering why your society,” Eris paused, a quick glance through the frosted glass panels of the door to check that Lewis had indeed scurried back to his post, “has come to the attention of the Auror Office?”
 
She smiled, but it wasn’t a warm or friendly expression, and folded her hands in her lap. “As you know, the Ministry’s primary concern is to avoid a repeat of the past.” She spoke slowly and deliberately, carefully choosing her words. “The Wizarding Wars were devastating to the magical populace of Britain. Not another drop of magical blood should be wasted in such a way.” Eris relaxed back in her comfortable chair, eyeing the younger woman carefully. She knew about the Abercrombie’s. Knew where their allegiances lay. She wondered if Farren Abercrombie had inherited some of the brains of her mother, as well as her looks. Of course, everything Eris knew about Victoria Abercrombie had come second-hand; from Ministry files, Prophet articles, rumours… and Gaius. Not that he had waxed lyrical about the matriarch – Eris had taken what she wanted to know, not been given it on a silver platter.
 
Speaking of silver platters... Eris couldn’t help but compare herself to Farren – they were both what was left. Women, the last of their lines – but very different paths. Eris knew little of the witch sat across from her, but the outfit choice alone for today’s meeting said everything Eris needed to know. As did Abercrombie’s decision to start a charity rather than do any real work. Make any real sacrifice. She obviously thought herself above getting her hands dirty. And here she was, at Eris’ request, because her little book club was attracting more attention than Eris thought wise, at this particular moment in time. They were on a dangerous precipice. Only days earlier the news had broken that outside forces wanted one of Azkaban’s most notorious prisoner’s released, the last thing they needed was more scrutiny. We must play dead..
 
“This is just a routine check, nothing too invasive – really we should have done it much sooner, but you know how it is… Things pile up.” Another forced smile. “Your club…” Eris started, pulling a small stack of parchment closer (the information the Ministry already had on Farren’s organisation). “The Society for Traditional Magic Preservation.” Not as much of a mouthful as others Eris had come across, and tastefully done – so as not to draw too much attention. But still enough to raise some suspicion. “Can you tell me a bit about the purpose? Your mission? And if you have a list of members, that would be very helpful.”

Farren sat down as directed, perched on the chair, her legs crossed at the ankles, her blue leather tote resting on her lap. She didn’t so much as blink as Eris slammed the door in the face of her receptionist. Growing up with a home full of house elves and human staff had desensitized her to such actions. She adopted a slight but polite grin when the elder witch thanked her for coming in. Deep down she wanted to roll her eyes and make a snarky comment about coming like a dog when called by the useless bureaucracy of the Ministry and not being accustomed to answering to summons from people like Aurors. However, she just smiled slightly, “Of course. I have meetings here today anyways so I was coming in already”

It was true. She was meeting with Meriweather Yaxley to discuss new provisions up for debate regarding further restrictions on intermarrying amongst wizards.  Eric continued with her little introduction to the reason Farren was here. Something the heiress found most tedius. They both knew why she was here and neither were surprised. When the daughter of a mass murderer Death Eater does anything outside of hosting tea and charity fashion shows the Ministry was interested. This was nothing new or particularly worrying for Farren. A well rehearsed line about preventing further magical blood shed and war would have rendered a massive eyeball if Farren wasn’t so rehearsed at conducting herself in public. Obviously though this woman hadn’t bothered to read anything about the society if she was giving her this angle.

A pause lingered between the women after Eric concluded her introduction and request. Looking over at the witch with an unconcerned passive expression Farren stared at her for a moment wondering if this woman knew how deeply her own family was in the thick of the DE and if so how she could sit here doing this. Would Farren get to change seats with her and ask her about her work next? It only seemed equally plausible that this woman was potentially up to no good if they were picking people to torment with pointless questions based on family relation. In her hand the elder witch held the folder for her organization so it wasn’t like the Ministry actually cared what the organization was doing so long as they weren’t doing /Abercrombie/ things.

“I’m actually not wondering why you called me in. I am a bit unsure why an in person meeting is required when you clearly have documentation about the organization but what does it matter? I was here anyways,” Farren’s tone was polite but curt. She clearly wasn’t one to suffer fools or wastes of time. “I’m well versed in these little check ups for every little thing, I don’t mind,” she said offering a little smile. It was clear she did mind and she thought this was an utter waste of her time but she was a good enough play actor.

Delicately she pulled the organization charter information from her bag and set it on the edge of the desk for the auror. “I began getting involved with politics and social issues shortly after the war. Due to my position in my family I didn’t have much choice but I quickly came to enjoy working for causes I found worthwhile in a capacity outside of the typical fundraising and such. You will know from having my family file that my Grandfather was expelled from the Wizengamot when his wife was murdered by an auror trying to kill the Deputy Minister in 1979. They didn’t appreciate having the spouse of a known Death Eater on the Wizengamot regardless of the fact our family had held the seat for hundreds of years. Never the matter with that, my point is, I became the public face of my family after the war. Even though Grandfather was never a Death Eater he didn’t feel it was his place to be out in public promoting various things or causes.”


She paused pulling a mission statement from her bag and added it to Eris’ desk. “So anyways, I was working with other wizards in the Ministry on a number of causes. Increasing scholarship for children whose parents died in the war. Increasing protections on unicorns and such things after the war. By last year I’d made this sort of work my primary function and began promoting causes myself or speaking up within the Ministry as a witness and lobbyist for various causes. The culmination of this was last summer. You may recall the Ministry wanted to impose strict regulation and increased taxes on privately held magical estates. They planned to levy a new property tax against anyone who refused to open their estate occasionally through the year for magical culture exposure to magical tourists. Obviously this was going to impact myself and relatives and friends. Pay a huge tax or open our private homes to random guests from across the UK? No thank you. There is a correct way to encourage appreciated for magical history and culture without punishing the people who many think caused a war. So I worked very hard against this and indeed won. That is how this whole organization started.”

Again she smiled politely at the auror, she was being intentionally conversational. If this woman was going to waste her time with this non- sense she planned on making it as unproductive as possible. “I realized if I had pooled resources, opinions, and people to support the same causes I cared about I could get much further. There were already many people offering support to me to pursue causes that would preserve our shared magical culture so why not make something official out of it?” She gestured to the documents she’d laid on the table. “So as you will have already read in the charter I created this organization because there are many of us who are very passionate about sharing and preserving traditional magical culture and are working to balance the newer attitudes of society and the Ministry with more traditional things. There is no requirement for membership regarding socio-economic class or blood status. There is nothing about the organization that seeks to exclude anyone based on blood status or otherwise. We are a network of people who do not want to see the finer points of our great culture and history squandered to modernity.”

One last time she pulled a piece of paper from within her satchel. It was a list of surnames only and a monetary figure beside each one. “Currently I am going to be looking into the latest proposal regarding limited intermarrying of wizard lines. Obviously we don’t want to encourage inbreeding to preserve blood purity as we used to see in the 18th and 19th century but if they limit whom purebloods can marry within a bloodline who is to say they won’t mandate other marriage or childbearing requirements on us?” She offered a concerned sort of smile as if she was deeply concerned with the unwieldy power such a mandate would give a government. “This is just a blip on the Society’s radar though.  I have much more constructive social programs on the agenda for the future. Glancing at the paper in her hand she skimmed the names, they were some of the most well known names in their little world: Hartridge, O’Dwyer, Slughorn, Yaxley, Greengrass, and others made a list of around 15 names and tens of thousands of galleons donated. “I am more than happy to speak about any of our causes of hopeful projects,” she trailed on as she handed the list over, “I’m truly an open book when it comes to the organization,  as you can tell from having me it certified as a non-profit political and social organization with the Ministry.”

Eris reclined back in her chair, sitting it as though it were her throne, her forearms draped along the arms. The tiniest of smirks flitted across her lips as she listened to Farren Abercrombie. The younger witch wasn’t a terrible liar, but Eris had barely prodded her. She wondered if Farren would be so confident if she knew what Eris could do. The blonde smiled slowly, “The Ministry prefers a more personal touch, these days, but I’m glad you were able to drop in on your way to your more important meetings.”

The Auror sat up straighter to reach forward and take the documents Farren produced, feigning interest as she prattled on about her beloved Abercrombie family dynasty. How typical. These young heiresses bored her to tears; did they not grow weary, of sitting around gossiping and drinking tea all day, every day? She supposed a trip to the Ministry must be a grand affair to one cooped up in their manor all year -- perhaps that was why she had felt the need to dress so obscenely. Eris’ lips tightened at the thought. She began flicking through the paperwork. “Yes, I know about your grandparents.” she said finally, not lifting her gaze. “The Wizengamot is a democratic organisation. A position is not something you can inherit -- though I suppose that might be quite a shock to someone like you.” A small voice reminded Eris that she was meant to be feeling out whether Farren could be trusted, not antagonising her -- but she reasoned with herself that the way the young Abercrombie responded to Eris’ teasing would tell her exactly what she needed to know.

Eris looked up as Farren produced another sheaf of parchment, glancing over it and the heiress with an impassive expression. She listened, attentively though it didn’t appear that way, and set the documents back on her desk. The Death Eater folded her hands in her lap. “I’m sure my mother very much appreciates your hard work in that regard.” Lucretia Rosier was in her sixties and had never known anything beyond the home she grew up in, and the one she had moved into when she married Erebus Rosier. She despised foreigners, so had never been abroad, and had spent the last forty-something years a self-imposed prisoner, only venturing out for lunches with friends or dinners in appropriate establishments, shopping and other mindless tasks that Eris was forever grateful to have escaped a life of. Eris was, however, aware that it would have been terribly inconvenient to have to open what was now her home to the public, though she would never directly thank the young witch sat across from her.

Though she was loathe to admit it, Farren was doing a reasonable job of making everything about this Society sound vaguely legitimate. Eris sighed, intentionally appearing bored and disinterested. She wanted Farren to think that she was just another Ministry lackey, a traitor to the cause their respective family members had died for. “Well it all sounds very noble.” She picked a small piece of lint from her sleeve and discarded it.

Eris’ eyes darkened and she had to consciously hold her tongue as the discussion turned to inbreeding. She wondered if Farren had brought this up intentionally, to get a rise out of her. The Rosiers had been known to marry second cousins, and, not much further back, first cousins, to ensure that their blood wasn’t weakened. Eris was certain that her childbearing years were almost behind her, that she would never have a child of her own, so whom she married (no-one) really wouldn’t matter so long as she didn’t intend to procreate (and she didn’t), but even so she couldn’t help but agree with Farren’s proposal. How disappointing.

The Auror took the list of names and scanned it quickly, attempting to memorise who had (stupidly, she thought) signed up to this farce. It seemed it wouldn’t be hard to remember -- all of the names were well known to her already. There were a few surprise entries, but not a single name that was unfamiliar. She smiled at Farren, “I’m sure you have muggleborns clamouring for membership? Though,” she acted confused, “forgive me if I’m wrong, these families are all established?”