open → i've run campaigns against the light;

[scinlac]

a → the ministry

( the time deviants registration department is open for business, and true to its nature as the unholy lovechild of the dmle and the dmac, its main defining trait appears to be 'ruthless efficiency'. well, that and being a little bit understaffed, considering that some parts of the registration seem to be held not just by your betters, but by your way betters.

like bellatrix, yours truly, who completely missed the seminar on work-life-balance, but definitely attended the one on dedication to the cause several times over. she can be found just about anywhere – maybe she just got done snapping at some poor sod, maybe you're unfortunate enough to share an elevator with her, maybe you're sitting across from her at one of the registration desks and looked at her a little funny, maybe you're someone who knows her well enough to be able to tell that she's been on her feet for forty-eight hours and counting –– or maybe you have an actual magical accident to report. whatever the case, she is going to be there, sharp and all cool politeness: )

And what would your problem be?

( and better make it a good one, because getting the trace only really hurts if you annoy her. )

b → wizarding london

( sooner or later, even she will be done professionally oppressing people for a living she doesn't even need too make –– and what better to do with all this fortune than spend it? odds are the actual purchase was made in knockturn alley, but maybe she is en route to some other shop. can't live off of dark artefacts alone now, can you.

anyway, as fate will have it, she manages to walk straight into you, or vice versa, and the newly-acquired item, an especially cursed manuscript wrapped carefully in spell-woven cloth, does as things do when affected by the basic law that is gravity: it goes tumbling. and since bella can't tell if the thoroughly warded cloth is still sitting snug in all the right places, all while being in no position to be involved in someone's rather public maybe-death... )

You mustn't touch it, unless you have a death wish.

( her tone all but implies you do, regardless of whether she was the one to cause the accident or not. )

Comments

b

[cottaged]

[ Bill's on his way back to the Cauldron from Gringotts, where he's just been let go. Not only was he fired, but the goblin who had initially given him his job was fired as well for ever having done so in the first place. Needless to say, he's not in the best mood, and not particularly looking where he's going.

When he bumps into her, he looks up. Bellatrix Lestr-- no. It would be Black in this time, wouldn't it. Great. One of the last people he ever wanted to run into. But he hides his grimace and reaches for her dropped item, stopping short when she warns him and looking back up at her warily. Slowly, he withdraws his wand and wordlessly casts levitate on the manuscript. ]

Cursed, is it? I could remove that for you, for a price.

[scinlac]

( She does see the flicker, working in the department that tends to hear the largest amounts of increasingly bizarre lies does the trick –– but she doesn't nail it down as anything remarkable. People know her, by virtue of her position or her blood, plus he looks just about the right age to have attended Hogwarts at around her time there as well.

He also looks a great deal like a Weasley. She nods an affirmative at it being cursed. )

Name your price.

( Bellatrix Black, bless her heart, could very well do that by herself, but that is rather not the point. The point is that the people who do your work for you often wind up the people who commit your crimes later on – plus, in this reality, she isn't entirely given to the murder of blood traitors yet. There is redemption, for those willing to take it. )

[cottaged]

[ Bill would normally never offer to do anything for Bellatrix --Lestrange or Black--, but he's out of a job and desperate enough for money that breaking one curse is worth going against his principles slightly.

That doesn't mean he isn't going to try to gouge her on price. ]

That depends on the difficulty of the curse. Do you know any details about it?

[scinlac]

( It isn't curfew yet, so the alley is still fairly busy, and Bella doesn't need to let on too much about her clandestine interests, now, does she. )

How would I? I suggest we discuss this – and the price – somewhere more private?

( Not that she will put on much of a fight over the price. If she has enough of one thing, it's money. )

b

[lechiennoir]

[Oh, joy. He wanted to see his absolute favourite cousin today. Well, actually, he'd read the morning's Prophet and was about to come yell at someone about it in the Leaky Cauldron, but -- apparently the universe had other things on its' mind. He hesitates a little, but likely only Bella would notice that. It's not often he comes into actual contact with family members, these days.]

Funny. Seems like I've heard that before.

[scinlac]

( And exactly that lack of contact is what Bella pinpoints his persistent desertion on. In her eyes, they offer such a perfect life, and all for the low, low cost of severing most emotional ties and accepting what she thinks of as a natural superiority.

So this is going to be a garbage fire. )

They warned you? My, I am almost jealous.

( She definitely recalls that one time she got a bit too close to a particularly nasty piece of jewellery –– with fondness, because a proper look at the Dark Arts had been a bit of a rare treasure to her. Or perhaps because the memory of the hospital visit has faded with time.

Be that as it may, she reaches for her wand and casts a levitation spell, checking for readily lethal tears in the cloth. )

[lechiennoir]

[Yeah, desertion, sure, never mind that he was disowned. It's understandable he's wanted to give his family as wide a berth as possible.]

Only once. Never more than that.

[Which, well, Gryffindor curiosity being what it is, had not ended well. He probably still has some scars from those times, somewhere.]

Bit of shopping for deadly things, then? How delightful.

[scinlac]

( Admittedly, Bella and Walburga don't see entirely eye-to-eye on the matter of disowning. That is, she thinks it entirely necessarily, in case they don't return. No use wasting any amount of the family fortune, or even worse, land and property, on them.

But she also knows that, for this to stay relevant, the family name needs to carry on. And for that to happen, you have to be willing to... forgive and forget. Or at least pretend to do so, as is the pureblood way. )

Isn't it? I have always considered it so very important to know just what it is that we are fighting.

( Her check seems to have been satisfactory, as she silently summons the book back into her hands. )

Especially if a mistake could easily be fatal.

a? a.

[malificence]

Muggle registration was straightforward, really. Name, life history, current occupation. Then documents were provided and away you went. This, Lucius thought as he stepped into Bella's domain, was much more interesting. But of course, Bella would be be where it was interesting. Not that she looked overly interested right now.

Annoyed, really. One could probably blame self-righteous Gryffindors from either the past or the future. Possibly even the present. Some things were eternal. He raised a brow, though, and slipped his wand out of the sleeve of his robe.

"Well, darling, I heard you were short-handed. But if that's a terrible falsehood, I can go away. It's almost time for cocktails." It was barely noon, but whatever.

[scinlac]

"Lucius, it's ––"

Sometimes, it is better to pick your battles, and this, so she reckons, is one of those times. Besides, he is entirely right: they shouldn't be passing up assistance, not if matters are to continue running smoothly. It sounds almost childish, but she wants things to go right, because Riddle is no doubt watching this new department, and while this is hardly her responsibility alone, or her only responsibility, for that matter, she would just rather like to keep her record blemish-free.

"Do close the door behind you."

He did have a knack for showing up at all the right times, and disappearing at all the worst. In terms of intuition, they could almost be evenly matched, except Bella's is wont to be overwritten by some obsession or other. Rare as it is, he makes a good gauge. And as per usual, it takes a solid justification to explain the simple fact that she does like his company.

"As long as you know how to cast the trace, I will gladly have you."

[malificence]

Lucius's brows lifted slightly as he closed the door firmly behind him. It was true; he did have a knack for showing up at exactly the right time and then disappearing when things were about to go straight to hell. He cultivated that knack, keeping his ear to the ground to listen for any changes in the wind. The knack itself, however, stripped down to the most base level, was just his inborn sense of self-preservation - which was really the trait that defined his actions as much as obsession sometimes defined Bella's.

Often defined Bella's. He could see the fine lines of tension around her eyes, and it was not all from irritating Time Deviants. No, Bellatrix wanted to make sure Riddle was pleased with how this went. "I brought someone in earlier today," he said blandly. His grandson - a term that had not yet ceased to be strange to even think about - had gone along with his insistence with just the right amount of pureblooded arrogance. Truthfully, from what little interaction they'd had, Scorpius appeared to be a perfect example of a Malfoy. Perhaps it was the perfection that made Lucius feel as if the boy might be playing a role.

Hardly the point right now, of course, Lucius thought as his lips curved with a slight, arrogant curve. "As you recall, you only have to show me something once."

[scinlac]

It's a little strange, the matter of obsession. What, in a parallel reality and some twenty-odd years down the line, will make her look manic, feverish, and unstable, still works brilliantly in her favour now. She looks more alive, almost glowing, and that to spite the lack of sleep that came with stomping a new department out of the ground.

"Oh, my memory serves me well."

He'll make a good addition to the department, as long as she doesn't give into his suggestion of lunchtime alcohol, which is more tempting than she cares to admit, by the way – it's been a day. People, it seems, aren't fond of bureaucracy regardless of the time and place they're from. Who would have thought? Be that as it may, he has her curiosity. If he brought someone, he either adopted a pet project worth a look, or he woke up to find someone in his general vicinity who didn't quite fit.

"Who did you bring?" There is faint hint of amusement to her voice, and he must be very familiar with it. Clearly, this is a most welcome distraction.

a is for Shenanigans

[gasleaks]

[It's been sort of a stressful day, what with having to spend a chunk of it shuffled around to different people and filling out new paperwork, but Credence is more or less keeping it together. He's not comfortable in the future, but he's getting used to it. The people who work here in the Ministry of Magic all intimidate him, though, and Bellatrix is no exception.]

I - they said you do the tracking magic? [He swallows.] For the people who aren't from here and now.

[Please don't hurt him, he came to be tagged of his own free will.]

a is for 'argh credence pls let me hug you'

[scinlac]

( Bellatrix doesn't know who he is, but she knows what he is. In fact, it's already given her quite a headache, because one of the newly acquired clerks, eager as they are to serve this just-conceived department, had quickly notified a different department. Then there had been some feathers ruffled over whose jurisdiction this exactly was, Bella had made her point clear, and all this explains why poor Credence has spent so much time shuffling about with all kinds of people before arriving at her desk.

And here he is, live and in colour –

The American.

Considering that someone had called Immigration on him, she would have expected a bit more swagger, not someone whom she would still label as 'boy' rather than 'man', someone who doesn't quite seem to meet people's eyes. )

I do. ( And, now sounding warm, a tone that takes a good deal of work from her: ) My most sincere apologies, there has been some confusion regarding your status. I assure you it has been resolved now.

( She thinks it below her to even have to ask this, but it's a necessity: )

Have you been informed about the way the trace works?

a. we're in this together bella

[utter]

( aurors weren't exactly made for hunting down those who appeared from the past and decided to break the very helpful, very fair rules put in place by their minister. perhaps it's understandable, then, that rabastan is aggravated to find himself working with the dmac to either a) bring these people in or b) register them, and somehow still be understaffed in trying to do the latter.

rabastan can feel his sister-in-laws pain, though he certainly feels healthier than her when he barges into her office and sees the mess she's become.

poor rodolphus, having to not-marry workaholic. )

You look like you're having a wonderful time, Bella.

( it's time to be social rather than locked up in an office for the rest of their lives. rabastan has had enough of the walls of his office, as much as he likes getting work finished and over with so that he doesn't have to worry about it later. )

WHAT TEAM? death eaters.

[scinlac]

( bella has learnt some patience over the decade or so that she has been with the ministry thus far, so much is true. in spite of that, inaction is still not necessarily something she is particularly good at. she can't be at a stand-still, can't stand to be unoccupied. sure, the death eaters provided her with the kind of work she took the most pleasure in, and plenty of her waking hours went towards an ever-curious exploring of the darker edges of magic... but secrecy comes at a price, and that price would be a great deal of time spent waiting. so why not channel this restless energy towards the ministry instead?

and that's precisely why bella needs to attend some kind of twelve step workaholic program.

she clicks her tongue and opens her eyes. the quill that had been filling out some paperwork in her semi-presence drops at the flick of her hand. )

Likewise.

( she can't blame him. for her part, she is entirely too happy to have the lestrange-bound aurors deal with any upcoming captures – even if that means her reversal squad might have to do some clean up after. for him, it surely is a step down. less danger, sure, but where is the fun in less danger? )

Are you looking for a distraction?

( how she can flip the switch to alert so quickly is a mystery. might be the lethal dose of sugar in her coffee finally doing the trick. )

a.

[roblet]

[ one of the lifts would be the case for this young man's encounter with miss black. gellert grindelwald is practically cherubic in looks as he stands next to her, rocking on his heels with a hum with his hands clasped behind his back. he's politely leaving her be until she speaks but then he smiles and tips his head to look at her, head canting aside. when he speaks, there's something about his accent that's not british. ]

I am on my way to register.

[ he seems oddly at peace with the idea - but he also looks so young that he's probably used to having the trace on him as it is already. ] May I ask how long this has been happening? I find the whole situation fascinating. [ perhaps it's strangest that he's unperturbed by the whole thing. no worries about getting home. ] Though certainly a mess for your Ministry and an unfortunate one at that.

[ a beat. ]

I apologize, you asked what my problem was. Simply finding where exactly I'm going.

[ a lie, but an innocuous one. ]

[scinlac]

( before he even speaks, something about him is strikingly familiar. her first instinct is to place him as the son of a coworker, someone who might have been at some ministry event that happened to coincide with a school holiday or other, or someone who just happens to take after one parent in particular. then, of course, it's september first – making it quite unlikely that a boy his age just wanders around, unless ––

and there's when he speaks and she has her confirmation. polished, but with an accent that, on such short notice, leaves her with either central or northern europe. )

The first recorded incident took place last winter. ( and, evidently, hasn't been an isolated one. she does take note: the politeness, the acknowledgement of the implications this has for the ministry, how entirely unfazed he is by all this, which, as someone who spent a great deal of her own teenage years pretending to be nothing if not perfectly bored and passive, strikes her as genuine. or at least he lacks all the tells lucius and she had. certainly, it means he now has her interest.

oh, and the lie, never forget that, though she makes no point in mentioning it. he seems well-spoken enough, she doubts he would have had any struggle reading the signs, but there has been no harm done, and there is no need at all in provoking him to lose that cooperative air. )

You may follow me. ( the elevator comes to a halt and ever so kindly announces that they have indeed arrived on the correct floor ) May I ask your name?

[roblet]

[ it's all because gellert isn't pretending to be unfazed. he'd been annoyed at first, certainly, but he's fallen into this as routine and in all honesty, there runs a risk in him of becoming preoccupied with the whole thing. imagine, so many people brought through time and space unprovoked.

he wasn't joking when he said it was fascinating.

he doesn't dislike this woman, he decides - or, well, it isn't as though he's going to like her either, perhaps fortunately for them both, but she intrigues him a little and he smiles, nodding slightly. ] Winter? Then to have so many in so short a time... Confounding, the magic behind it.

[ he still sounds calm and placid even now. when she asks him his name he smiles wider before moving to trail after her. ] Thank you, of course. My name is Gellert Grindelwald. May I ask yours?

b

[alwaysreturns]

[With his luck, Ron is starting to wonder if he does have a secret death wish after all. He's got a baseball cap pulled low over his face, as much of his red hair stuffed under it as he could manage. The cap - London Mets, whatever those are - was taken from a muggle boy and Ron is not terribly proud of that at all, but needs must and all that. He'll try to return it, probably, if he gets the chance.

(He knows he probably won't get the chance, but intentions matter.)

He's wondering what the smart next move would be - what would Hermione do - when he all but collides with someone else. He jumps back, barely resisting the urge to reach for his wand. Instead he starts to reach for whatever it is that's tumbled onto the ground, stopped by that warning. The tone annoys him; the voice out and out terrifies him.]

What's it, cursed? [He is trying very, very hard not to sound as panicked as he feels.]

[scinlac]

Yes.

( There is a faint hint of amusement in her voice, and she looks him up and down, calculating, noting pale, freckled skin, and the cap that conceals most of his hair. The colour isn't so easily told in the half-light. Her eyes narrow: Quidditch isn't a point of interest to her at all, but even she would know a London-based team, ergo, his cap isn't merchandise related to a magical sport. It's a blessing and a curse in one, for him: clearly, whoever he is, he isn't Pure. Or at least not the kind of Pure she would willingly spend time with. She can tell he is scared, it's a sensation that has her heart skip a beat –– but she doesn't necessarily see it as something directed at her. Most people are a little put out by very nearly having come in touch with a fatally cursed artefact.

The flicker is gone as quickly as it came. Evening it may be, but they are rather in public – and while it doesn't take much to coax some good old racism out of Bellatrix, she does, at least, make an attempt. The smile she gives him is perfect and cold and polite, and she pushes a strand of hair behind her ear before she reaches for her wand. )

And I am afraid breaking it so soon could do damage to the manuscript.

( She sounds pensive, almost affectionate. It is a rather nice bit of magic, after all. Either way, she flicks her wand, and the book, and its protective sheet of cloth, rise for her to inspect. ) You ought to watch where you are going. This could have been... fatal.

[alwaysreturns]

[The smile makes him wary, but when she reaches for her wand he feels cold all the way down to his toes. There's a responsive twitch in his fingers, a defensive thought that makes it past whatever wall of logic and reason he's clinging to: he doesn't reach for his wand when she does, but it's nearer than it should be.

It's also a near thing that keeps him from snapping at her about watching where she's going, but Ron bites his tongue better on that one. Two thoughts occur to him: that he should bloody well get the hell out of her presence, and that he ought to learn what he can while he's here. The real question is how to do that without giving himself away.]

Sorry, [he says, and doesn't even choke on the apology.] Wasn't paying attention, I guess. Lucky me it was wrapped well, innit?

[scinlac]

( Bellatrix, being a Death Eater, is very finely attuned to these twitches, largely because all it really takes to die is miss one. Bellatrix, being a ministry witch, has a fairly innocuous explanation, too: people get all sorts of jumpy if you inform them that their particular Magical Accident has legal consequences. In either case, it takes remarkable self-control for her to not tense up, and she manages it just fine ––

except it's in her eyes, alright. For a moment, bright and alert switches to focused and potentially deadly, before it's gone again and she resumes, like she never saw the twitch at all: )

Incredibly so. ( She hugs the book, apparently declared safe again, to herself, and very deliberately returns her wand to its sheath. ) May I ask your name?

a.

[medesthai]

[ St. Mungo's always has to deal with the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, most especially when Time Deviants and Muggle-borns are involved. What the Ministry misses, St. Mungo's picks up, because one way or another, the most terrible magical accident will always end up either in the emergency room or a funeral home (if you're feeling optimistic, anyway); Andromeda's job is to make sure that it isn't the latter. She enjoys what she does for the most part, but the part where she has to dip her toes in the Ministry of Magic is another matter altogether.

But it's a job that she is required to do, especially when unregistered Time Deviants enter St. Mungo's in critical condition. The next step after keeping them alive is to report to D.M.A.C., and while an instant M.I.A.V.I. report has been sent out to the authorities, follow up paperwork is always expected. Which is why Andromeda is in this situation — the glorified delivery owl.

Suffice it to say, this is her least favorite part of her job. ]

Should there be any?

[ She says, ever so professional, a tone of voice that she really only reserves for family. And while the ability to look at Bellatrix Black in the eye is something most people lack, Andromeda has never had that problem, even now. She hands over a stack of paperwork. A list of names, currently residing in St. Mungo's. Most notably, a couple of muggle-born time deviants at the wrong place at the wrong time, now held in their walls. Adamant not to be registered, fearful and hateful of the name Tom Marvolo Riddle in equal measure, in the way that even muggle-borns of their own time are not, not yet anyway.

Andromeda and the other Healers cared for them as well as they could, but the rest is no longer up to them. ]

These are yours.

[scinlac]

Are they?

( Cold focus turns away from her sister and out onto the paperwork, to the names that stir no feelings, the sharp M behind each one that reduces them to nothing at all in her eyes. When Orion Black, her predecessor in this very office, had aimed to intimidate on these occasions, Bellatrix has no such aspiration where Andromeda is concerned. Her sister shouldn't fear her. Has no reason to.

Bella doesn't see herself as the villain – in fact, she sees Andromeda as the one to hurt and betray her – and it all adds up quite nicely in her head. The Minister obviously has the best intentions for the right kinds of wizards and witches, all the things their family, their schoolmates, their highly elitist social circle have always said mudbloods deserve is something she now herself makes happen, both in the light of day and in secret. This can't be wrong.

So if it isn't wrong, then what is it her sister feels when she saves these lives? And how could it possibly live up to the exhilarating shock that comes with killing? )

The Ministry will take them into custody.

( It is not a death sentence, though some argue that Azkaban is far worse than death. Worse, still, is that she says it with not a sign of remorse. )

I suppose we will not be finding them sufficiently cooperative?