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.

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.

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.

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. 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. )

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. ]

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.]

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.