riddlelog | pulled from his tdm call the wizard cops {OPEN}

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pulled from his tdm call the wizard cops {OPEN}

ministry of magic

While it may seem like a boring job, Regulus Black's position in the Department of Muggleborn Registration is extremely important. He records each and every Muggleborn Witch and Wizard that joins their society so that they're easier to keep track of; their safety is all-important and knowing who and where they are at all times is the best and most efficient way to make sure they're safe. It's a necessary evil, of course. The young official is well-known for his sharp smile and razor wit and the haughty way he holds himself even while registering eleven year old children into the system and assuring confused Muggle parents that it's for their child's safety and that nothing is going to happen to their child while under the care of the Ministry of Magic so long as every regulation is followed.

He's in his office most often, doing paperwork, smoking on his breaks, or feigning interest when a coworker comes in to speak to him.

If you come into his office for help and not immediately look like Muggle parents with their child, he's going to raise his eyebrows and lean back in his chair. "How can I help you?"

diagon alley

For all the big bad awful Death Eater nonsense behind Regulus Black's demeanor and everything in his life, he's still a teenager barely nudging toward twenty. It means that he's going to spend down time however he pleases, whether it be eating ice cream at Fortescue's or perusing a book shop, many of his hobbies are those of a normal young man. He's not the type to be openly social unless prodded, but he's still willing enough to talk if someone approaches him no matter their blood status - though his attitude will vary depending on what that may be.

Most free days are spent in said book shops, so whether you're going for school texts or for pleasure novels, you're almost bound to run into him. Perhaps literally.

knockturn alley

Regulus is quiet and hard to find in Knockturn Alley but he's there, either in Borgin and Burke's trading in antiquities or elsewhere purchasing potions ingredients of a more sinister nature. It's difficult to tell whether he's meant to be there or not, whether he's trying to run a sting operation for another department, or if this is a personal errand, but whenever he does go, he never leaves empty-handed whether it's with a sack of galleons from selling or new purchases from buying.

It shouldn't matter which, really - and if you're Muggleborn, you probably shouldn't be back here to begin with. It's far too dangerous. He might just have to escort you out. Hell, even if you're a Half-Blood. Point is, it's not safe in general, and if you don't know what you're doing you might get yourself burned, literally or figuratively.

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They were lost. Albus didn't know how it was possible but somehow he and Scorpius ended up completely turned around. Perhaps it was the flocks of interdepartmental memos that threw him. The last time he and Scorpius had been in the Ministry was to visit his Aunt Hermione and she had streamlined the memo system, cutting down on the overwhelming layers of paper just over head. Albus never considered paper menacing before, but being squeezed into a claustrophobia-inducing elevator with paper birds with razor sharp beaks inches from his forehead made him reconsider his worst fear.

"What floor are we on?" Albus asked after he stepped out on the nearest floor, ducking his head as memos zoomed by. "Because if we're not anywhere close to the registration I'm going to go mental. I don't think I can take another elevator ride with those birds."

His nerves were fraying as he walks down the hall. How much trouble was he really in? Scorpius wavered between reassuring Albus that all would be fine to overly insisting that he play it cool and avoid touchy subjects like his name, his father, and most importantly, everything to do with time travel. It was a lot of pressure and on top of being lost he was feeling rather short on temper.

It's not quite pleasure novels that Andromeda comes to bookstores for, but she does find enjoyment in reading about the latest medical texts available for her to peruse. The magical medical field is full of ingenious individuals dedicated to the betterment of society, but is just as cutthroat as politics. It's part of the reason why Andromeda thrives in that kind of environment; she has innate knowledge on how to navigate through that particular kind of minefield.

Anyway, literally bumping into her in a bookstore? Totally probable. She's always been the kind to bury her nose into a good book.

"Oh, I'm so—" Of course, while it's a bit normal for her to bump into other people while reading, she doesn't expect it to be one of her family. "Regulus! I'm so sorry. I didn't see you at all."

Regulus has a few older tomes with him when Andromeda bumps into him, startling him out of his thoughts and causing him to extend a hand to her arm to make sure she doesn't stumble even though he's slight enough that it shouldn't be a problem.

Shaking his head, the youngest of the Black family smiles and lofts his eyebrows. "No, it's fine. It's what happens when you're the short one, right? People miss seeing you, you get bumped into in shops..."

He's trying to act normal and it's clear - he misses Andromeda, no matter what either set of parents may say.

"I-- don't know." Scorpius should have a better idea where to go, having just been to register not that long ago himself, but every floor looks the same.

He spots a sign that says "Registration" and it doesn't say what they're registering there, but it's-- obviously something? Possibly the right place. "I think that's it over there. Alright, remember, just act completely normal. We just want to be in and out and not draw any further attention." Scorpius said, heading towards that office.

The touch steadies her, mostly, though it is disconcerting to be on the receiving end of that familiar smile. That gives her the courage to raise her own eyebrows at him, a skill all members of the Black familyl know how to wield.

"So you're saying I'm the short one, is that it?"

It's better, at least, that they can joke about their current situation, no matter what their parents and siblings might say about it.

It's another long day and Regulus is actually nearing the end of it when he hears voices approaching in the corridor. It's fine - things slow down for him once term has begun, so having something to do that isn't getting pulled into another department to cover someone else's job is nice. Maybe someone's parents couldn't figure out how to get their kid where they needed to go or someone is traveling from outside the country and needs temporary registration.

Either way, Regulus is seated at his desk when the boys (barely younger than him) come inside, and it leaves him sitting and looking at them with both eyebrows lofted slightly. He sets his quill down, gesturing to the chairs at the opposite side of his desk. There are three.

"How can I help you?"

To someone that's seen pictures of him: it's unmistakably Regulus Black.

"You're only a couple of centimeters shorter than me." Smiling, teasing, pretending everything is fine - it's true. They're almost the same height and he's only barely taller than her. A finger's width, maybe.

"Makes sense we'd run into each other, then." His voice is softer as he continues, thoughtful. "How have you been? I haven't seen you since you came into the Ministry for me." And his stabbed-through hand.

Luck of the draw — all members of the Black family tend to be either average in height or taller, though it's no surprise to her that Regulus has managed to catch up to her despite being years younger. He is a grown man now, after all; the catching up that he's had to do, being the youngest of them all, has now turned him into a handsome young man with a purpose in life beyond what Andromeda could have wanted for either of them.

"I've been good," she says, in a light tone. "And I'm always just around the corner, really. How about you? How's your hand now? No other stabbing related injuries in work, I hope."

As expected, her eyes drop down to inspect it. She knows that he's fine, of course. She is good at her job, and the wound wasn't too deep or critical. Blacks are resilient, and Regulus is every bit of a Black as the rest of them.

"Okay, okay, I think I can handle it," Albus said, unable to keep the frustration from his voice. He isn't angry at Scorpius. He's angry with himself. He should have known better than to start running his mouth to strangers, especially about time travel.

Finally. Albus flopped in one of the chairs opposite Regulus' desk. It wasn't lost on him that the young man is practically his age. Albus hoped that the fact it wasn't a dour faced adult would work in his favor.

"I'm here to be registered," he said, sounding a bit bored at the entire prospect. "This is my mate. He can vouch for me. So, do I need to sign something? Possibly in triplicate because, let's face it, this is the Ministry and they certainly love their forms."

Scorpius has seen pictures of Regulus Black. Hell, he's read every scrap of historical records he could find on him, because if there's one topic Scorpius would be interested in, it's Slytherins who didn't receive their due for services rendered during the two wizarding wars. Regulus is a mostly forgotten figure, but he was vital to the fall of the Dark Lord, even in death, and so Scorpius made a point of learning everything he could about him.

The fact that he was also an extended family member was just icing on the cake, and got him access to some documents and pictures he otherwise wouldn't get to see. Which is all to say, he recognizes him. It's a bit old-hat at this point to run into dead people, though, so other than the briefest moment of being startled, he's acting completely normal and casual and fine. Well, he's no more worried-looking than he was before they entered the room, at any rate. "Do you do Time Deviant registration here?" It doesn't look exactly like where Scorpius had done it. "We got a bit turned around..."

Regulus Black is not quite what he was in Scorpius and Albus' timeline. With no reason to defect (and from what?) he's still not as bad as his cousins and the like, but he's also still too deeply into the dark arts and whole wizard racism thing to claw his way out. There's no point in clawing his way out. He's interested now in what he was like (is like, in his mind) in this other timeline, but not enough to actively ask one of the deviants if they know him.

Which means he just looks very unimpressed at this bored young man treating the whole process like he doesn't care. While it may be a hassle it's imperative that it gets done and he doesn't well take to the fact that he's practically yawning while he insults Regulus' job.

Anyway, the other wizard is far more polite (and a Malfoy, from the looks of him) and Regulus is almost sorry to have to shake his head, grey eyes focusing on him instead of on the dark haired wizard. "No," he says, frowning. "I'm muggle-born registration. And no, you fill out the form once and it fills out the form thrice for you in a stack."

Blandly.

A beat, and Regulus glances to the door before moving to open one of the drawers in his desk. "You're already here," he says, "and I have the forms here from when I was pulling double-duty. I'm capable, if not technically sanctioned anymore. Just do it here instead of waiting in the lines there. They'll appreciate me taking some of their work for them."

Plus he's bored as anything.

Regulus sometimes wishes for some kind of purpose other than Ministry Official but there's not much to be done for that - it's his life and it's going to be his life indefinitely.

"No other stabbings," he says with a laugh, lifting his hand to let her examine it properly. It's healed up right well and while there's a small scar there's no other lasting issues - no pain, no stiffness, no loss of motion or grip. "It's perfect. Thank you again."

After a moment's thought and just looking at her with cloudy grey eyes, Regulus jumps into the deep end. "We should spend the afternoon. Tell me about what you've been looking at here. How does that sound?"

Andromeda hesitates, but she is quick to wrap her hands around his.

"You would get into trouble."

She knows that for a fact. Even if they keep this meeting rather clandestine, there are wagging tongues and eavesdroppers at every corner. By the time Regulus returns home, Walburga Black would have keyed herself up so much in an effort to contain her emotions, a battle she'd undoubtedly lose once she seems the sight of her younger, most prized son. Andromeda's parents would have been more or less indignant over it, but they would have gotten over themselves far quicker; Walburga, not so much.

And even beyond that — they live in an unforgiving society.

"Great," Albus says, sitting up in his chair. He reaches for a quill, wanting to get the formality over with. "Sorry for the inconvenience and what not. It's still a bit of a shock knowing that we're not in the right time. It's the last thing I expected to happen to me."

He smiles, hoping to win the young man over. He doesn't recognize Regulus as Scorpius does. He's just another Ministry official who wants to tag him like an errant pet. It grates on Albus' nerves that he's there getting the trace but as long as he thinks of it as an intricate Apparation license it keeps his anger from getting the best of him.

Scorpius heaves an absolutely genuine sigh of relief, because wandering around the Ministry some more until they find the right place is not his idea of a good time. "Thank you, really, we very much appreciate it too!" He nudges Albus' foot with his own pointedly. Be nice, you hooligan.

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pulled from his tdm call the wizard cops {OPEN}

Ministry of Magic

diagon alley.

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