the enigma

Hogwarts is safe. So she thought once too. Having heard that there was no place safer than their school. It wasn’t so safe after all. With the same sentiments rising once again, Daphne suddenly thought that perhaps it wasn’t the best place for her daughter. Not only was Amélie her only child, but also all that was left of Pierre. “I’ll let her run in next time to see if you’re actually busy or just hiding,” she returned the jest. Sometimes Daphne would just hide in her office, just to get an hour without someone wanting a signature or want to talk her into a new deal. “You should get someone to clean up your desk,” how did he even find anything in the mess.

“If they are looking for compensation it just proves that we didn’t do our job right,” She didn’t want to think of the thousands of souls who had suffered in that place. “If we have to think what if’s all the time then we don’t get anywhere Terry,” Daphne was well aware of all the things that would happen if they did change things around, but as of now it was no other choice than to just do it. It would take years to get anything sorted, and perhaps they would have time to release those that didn’t need to still be incarcerated.

“Someone has to raise the question, if nobody asks or tries to change things or do anything, then nothing will get done. We’ll be walking the same path as always, and nobody decides to be that person. We both know what happens when nobody stand up to something,” this was a hill she was prepared to die on it seemed.  “Several of the members should have left decades ago, they belong to a world that isn’t there anymore,” she brushed some hair behind her ear.

“I do, I know for a fact that there are members who are willing to at least look at the idea of a change. If nobody is willing to change anything then why do I bother going to any seassions?” it was true. It was frustrating how people never changed. Deciding not to answer him, she wasn’t going to get into a discussion. They had lost that battle, but not the war.

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A small chuckle falls from his lips, it’s warmth almost reaches his eyes, “Tell her she needs an appointment,” he jests back, “-- she doesn’t get special admittance just because she’s young and under five feet, if word got out I’d have Goblins of the Gringotts committee barging through my door in a minute.” Terry looks down at his desk -- it was cluttered that’s for sure, but he knew where everything was even in this mess. But still, perhaps Daphne was right. “Someone?” Terry says with a tsk, he raises his wand and flicks as he mutters an incantation. Every book, pen, and parchment aligned back into it’s proper place, “-- don’t tell me you do all your tidying manually. That sounds utterly exhausting and...muggle.”

‘What ifs’ are the questions that have kept Terry’s career afloat all these years, and here is where he contradicted with Daphne. It was a ‘what if’ that lead to the creation of the Technomagical Initiative, and that was getting the Ministry of Magic somewhere. “We cannot be naïve or idealistic in such matters, we must look at it from all angles. Your heart is in the right place, but the Ministry of Magic cannot afford a financial or moral assault at this stage.” Terry pauses, “Unless, for the compensation problem, we don’t commute sentences already passed and the new laws only apply from the date passed. That keeps both the integrity of the Wizengamot and our treasury intact.” It is harsh, but strategically sound -- thought he could already feel like disappointment pooling within her, and his words reflected off of Daphne and back onto him with how heartless and cold he sounded. “Another option is we allow the incarcerated to appeal their sentences to be tried again, but under a no compensation bylaw.” Still, Terry stands his ground firmly, “Besides that, my point is that decisions will have to be made regarding this, a committee would have to be formed and ratified by all sitting members of the Wizengamot. I’m assuming the Liberal Magical Party will want to lead here... my concern is that your party’s ambition for progressive policies overshadow the need of the situation.” At her statement a small thin-lipped smile graces his face, “Don’t be too hard on the old guard, Daphne. That may be us before too long.” 

“Alright, who?” Terry asks pointedly, he needed names and ranks to see how much this want for change and reformation had taken root -- and to measure if it was in fact a cause to get behind. “You’ve been in this Ministry long enough to understand how the wheels turn, and they turn slow if you don’t grease them properly. Change can be accomplished -- this muggle technology fiasco is a testament to how being stagnant only hurts us -- but it must happen in increments, especially this, otherwise it will overwhelm the court.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Daphne shrugged when he asked about her sister. “I sometimes speak to my brother-in-law, it’s mostly for my daughters sake. She loves her uncle,” she added. It was true, their son and her daughter were close enough in age, and she did adore her uncle. Other than that she didn’t see or speak to her sisters family.

“You can say that we aren’t that close,” it was true. She wouldn’t let anything happen to her beastly family, but she wasn’t going to spend much time thinking about them. “I do plan on sending her to Hogwarts, even my late husband was on board for that. The French one is just too big for my liking. She’ll have a much better time here,” if her in-laws were planning on taking her somewhere else, they would have to do it over her dead body.

“She really does like you, I’ll let her come see you next time she’s around. Last time I had to tell a white lie and say you were probably busy,” she gave him a smile. As he went back to work she nodded “I think that would work better. To most a fine or a small sentence would be enough. Most of us don’t go around casting unforgivable curses or mudering,” Daphne crossed her legs again “We have plenty of funding, they just have to decide to put it in the right place. As of now it feels as if they’re throwing money out the window. Which is a fitting muggle expression I like.”

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“Ah, she has good company in Draco and his son.” Terry smiles. There is an imperceptible ease in his voice, Daphne seems to be unaware of his association with her estranged sister - and he’d like to keep it that way. He abandons this line of questioning to avoid further suspicion, and moves on to the next thing on the agenda: Schooling. “If you’re concerned about safety, the Chamber has been sealed entirely by Aurors, and there’s safety and protection spells all around the castle.” Terry speaks with assurance, his eyes glint slightly in the dim light, “Hogwarts is safe.” His lips press into a thin-lipped smile, “Don’t feel too bad about it, it probably wasn’t a lie.” He gestures to the parchments and papers littered around his desk in an organised mess, “I am a very busy man.” Terry jests, although it is true. He’s often here, sitting at his desk until odd hours in the night.

“You have a point,” Terry nods, “- although plenty of fines are already in place for minor misdemeanours. Sentences to Azkaban are reviewed on a case by case basis to by the Wizegamot. If I understand your request for reform it’s finding adequate and suitable punishment for the middle crimes - those in limbo between the petty small-time thieves and the unforgivable murders. That’s a large bracket.” He pauses momentarily, “And if we do implement even smaller sentence for crimes within that bracket, how are we to deal with the implications of those sentenced prior to the reform?” While people liked to be ten steps ahead, Terry preferred to be twenty steps ahead and then two more for good measure. “What happens when prisoners are released due to commuted sentences and demand compensation?Not to mention, we’d be undermining sentencing decisions made by the existing Wizengamot. ” “And in there lies your battle.” The Ministry was in better shape that the years before, still recovering from the economic blows, but still prosperous under Minister Granger’s leadership. But just because money is available, that money will be allocated to your desired program. You had to do the dance; courting politicians across benches, greasing palms will Galleons and pleasantries when required. And to Terry’s knowledge, this reformation would be one applauded and rallied for by the public - but despised behind the doors of the Wizengamot. Nobody likes change, even if it is good much-needed change in the world. Especially politicians, this one included. Still, for the sake of bipartisanship, Terry decides to entertain the idea, “Do you have a plan to whip support?” At her remark, Terry scoffs slightly, “The No-Contact Statutes have been expensive, I agree, but they have been put in place for the security of our nation, from threats within and around. Think of it as an investment rather than a burden.”

Terry writes an apology letter to @lisagraceturpin probably because he mansplained something about wizarding law to her or got involved on one of her cases when she didn’t ask for any help?

Terry writes an angsty and mean!! break-up letter to Daphne while they were dating in Sixth Year, as the Second Wizarding War is coming to a head and they both pick sides. @changedgreengrass, Tee please forgive his saltiness. 

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This is a bargain, Yurika can already sense as she takes a sip from her drink, letting the overly sweet pumpkin juice overwhelm her taste buds.

She has expected this bargain from the moment she told her assistant to send Terry Boot an owl. Everything with Boot is a bargain after all. It is not as if the British Wizarding Front had never done business with him. And she’d heard the few stories her acquaintances told her of their own bargains with the man. “My lawyers have briefed me on how MACUSA and their laws work,” they did not only brief her, they presented here with documents, each one detailing a specific trade law or a certain loophole that the Haneda’s Beauty Potions company might be able to bypass. She’d pored over each paper. Her assisstant kept a neat pile of the paper trail that their expansion has caused thus far. If she wanted more legal advice, she would have gone to her lawyer’s office with its fluorescent lights and earl grey teabags. Not to a pub on the very edge of the London magical community who serves subpar pumpkin juice.

“Surely, you must know that I am not in want of legal advice,” Tip toeing around matters could turn things sour and Yurika has never been one to tip toe. She takes and she gives. She’s generous in her bargains and she knows the price of each favour she asks. This one is sure to be expensive. “You worked at the MACUSA previously. I was wondering if perhaps you have a friend,” a connection, “that can help my company in this matter?” that can produce the legal papers right away without anymore fuss. She wonders what Terry Boot will want in return. Surely, he isn’t very interested in the business side of her occupation. A beauty company is hardly thrilling unless stocks and investments are brought to the table. And while Haneda’s Beauty Potions is extremely lucrative and profitable especially this quarter of the year, the process of transferring hefty amounts of stock to another person or entity would take months and she would have to go through the board of investors and directors first.

She presumes that if there is one thing she must give back in return to Terry Boot, it will be a political favour. One that she isn’t very sure she is willing to give. 

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Politicians rarely ever speak plainly. They wrap their words with ribbons and euphemisms, incentives and misdirections. Politicans rarely ever say what they want, much less what they need, and they’ll use ever other word in the dictionary to communicate just that. Despite employing all those tricks, Terry sits with a thinly raised eyebrow and a degree of amusement pinching at the corners of his mouth, with press a smile that is neither friendly nor hostile. “Ms. Haneda, I appreciate you thinking of me in this particular matter,” He knows she knows, and he knows she probably doesn’t care as long as she got what she wanted, but for the sake of speaking plainly, Terry continues to explain the risks of what she’s asking him to do, “-- but I’m obliged to tell you that pressuring forgien government processes is illegal, and counts as what we diplomats call interference.” 

Terry reaches into the recesses of his suit pocket to find his pack of cigarettes and pinches one in his mouth before lighting it. Thin plumes of smoke surround him, “That being said, hypothetically, if I were to have strong connections within a government that could potentially help you and your company establish itself in their country...” This back and forth is a customary dance they do, all culminating to the single question: “What would you be offering in return for such a favour?”

This meeting is strictly off-record, at least for Terry it is. A Reformist Member of the Wizengamot out with the British Wizarding Front’s campaign manager? Ms. Rita Skeeter would have a field day. While the Fountain of Fair Fortune supplies them adequate anonymity, still their political affiliations trickle down into the minutiae of everyday. And today is not different, “I have no interest in money.” Terry states, his eyes  are on caught Yurika’s, almost feline in their reflective quality, “Perhaps we can come to an arrangement of sorts.” 

A favour owed by Yurika Haneda was more valuable than a vault at Gringotts teeming with Galleons. As a close advisor and confidant to Theodore Nott, a favour owed by her is priceless, and Terry was going to collect. 

Even with Draco’s late night reassurances tucked away in the back of her mind Pansy considers cancelling her meeting with one Terrence Boot all the way up to the moment she rings his door bell. It would be so simple to plead a sudden conflict; her life has hardly been calm or predictable even during the best of times and these present times were worse than most. One quick owl - I’m terribly sorry Mr. Boot I won’t be able to make it - followed by indefinite delays until she can find a way to sort out her father’s lingering affairs and return to her life in France and she might never even have to see him again at all. It could be so simple - if only any of this was simple. If only she could see another way out that didn’t leave her family’s name in tatters and a new layer of tarnish layered over her already spotty reputation. Or even if there wasn’t another way… Pansy could have borne those consequences, she had once before already, if it was only her future they would touch. But Pansy Parkinson wasn’t a girl with only her personal prospects resting on her shoulders anymore - so instead of fleeing Boot’s doorstep she held her head high and reached out to press her finger against the muggle contraption that she knew from, admittedly limited, experience would announce her arrival.

Pansy doesn’t have to wait long for her host to appear - prompt and well dressed as always - to quickly usher inside his home. Pansy runs her eyes around the room taking it in as Terrence disappears for a moment doing what she assumes is a quick and entirely welcome security check. If Pansy had been of a mind to form any expectations about Terrence’s home the space would have met them at least at a cursory glance - it is well organized and his bookshelves lack the telltale dust that always marked her father’s books as more ornamental than anything else. The only surprise is a small orange cat that stands a few feet away regarding her with a curious gaze that she returns until its master returns to the room and pulls both sets of eyes back to him. 

All clear? Pansy nearly asks but instead she takes a deep breath and meets her host’s eyes searching them for any sign of fresh trouble for a moment before nodding. “Ah yes, tea sounds would be lovely, thank you.” 

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Pansy agrees to tea, but by the look on her face, Terry wondered if he should have suggested something a tad stronger instead. “Please, sit.” Terry says making his way into the small open kitchen that lay on the otherside of the living room filled with stainless steel appliances and a stove barely used. A separation in the walls lets Terry have full view of the living room, where Ares has upgraded from passively curious to actively curious, the orange tabby is now at Pansy’s feet sniffing away at his new guest and meowing at Terry in protest. Terry chuckles lowly, “Don’t mind him, he’s not used to having guests.” And neither was Terry, still looking for his home afternoon tea set that his mother had given him several Christmases ago as the water boils in the kettle.

Several moments later, he appears with a tray of: 2 white cremaic cups with gold-accent handles sittling pretilly in their saucers, 1 large tea pot of similar description with steam wafting out of it, and 2 pots filled with milk and sugar as customary. Terry carefully places it on the coffee table, and takes a seat opposite Pansy. He brandishes his wand for the tea to serve itself to their liking. Finally, with a light sigh, he looks up to his company and asks, “So, Ms. Parkinson, what can I help you with?”

Purebloods, especially those in the British Wizarding Front, are taken to be extremists. The Puritans are just another word for Death Eaters, and while William held some controversial opinions in his day, Terry wasn’t necessarily alarmed by any of his associations for they were few and far between to be called a Puritan. But here sits his daughter, prim and proper Pansy, facing a different reality. “Do you have information on William’s specific dealings with the Puritans?”

If he was willing to get his party on the side of this, it made her wonder what he would ask in return. Daphne hoped he knew that they wouldn’t get more votes on more restrictions. Her father was, of course, a big fan of the whole thing he wanted to keep the muggles as far away from them as possible. “I’m sure Kingsley is open to the idea, the poor man has had to suffer through my countless owls about reforms I want doing,” Daphne picked up the saucer again as the document was placed back onto his desk.

It had been terrifying when she had seen him for the first time when she entered the Ministry for her first day. Her daughter was only four at the time, a recent widow and suddenly having to face the mistakes of her past was far from the easiest. If she remembered correctly she almost ran away from him. A twitch of her brow as he asked about her family.

“My mother is as she always has been. Completely useless and my father is still a beast,” Daphne put the saucer on his desk. “I went to visit Pierre’s parents with her. They are still frowning at the prospect of English education for her,” she didn’t go into more detail than that, he didn’t need the details. “She likes you, you know,” Daphne looked at Terry with a weak smile. Her daughter always wanted to see him whenever she came to the Ministry with her.

Looking at him as she heard what he said she chose not to comment on it. Her sister had married one of the Death Eaters that got away. It also made her wonder if he had ever wished they came for her family as well after the last war. “Well,” she picked up the saucer again to finish her first cup. “The muggles have them separated depending on what level of security they have. Murderers, rapists and other more serious crimes are in higher security parts. People with lesser crimes are under a lower security regime.”

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Terry chuckles softly, remembering a time he used to write to Kingsley on the bills, policies, and amendments he wanted to put forth with his blessing, “I suppose one more won’t bother him then.” Terry reaches for the document, taking it back into his safe careful hands and away from any potential tea spillage. He’s done it himself countless times to expect more of anyone else, a tragedy forecasted should be a tragedy avoided. 

Daphne spoke so candidly, Terry was a little surprise. He’d accounted for a ‘they’re well’, not the barrage of insults thrown so casually at her parents. He notices her sister Astoria has escaped the line of inquiry, he clears his throat softly, “And your sister, Astoria? I trust she is well too.” Terry takes another sip of his tea, “Hogwarts does have an outstanding curriculum that prepares you for the very worst of this world. British education isn’t all that bad. At least it’s not Durmstrang.” Terry could never imagine himself as a father, much be in the same situation choosing between two schools, but he tries to quell her worries as much as he can. Her next sentence catches Terry a little off-guard, he’s not usually likeable as it is, much less to children. They find him serious, brooding, and boring. “Ah, well, she’s a charming young lady herself.” 

“That makes sense.” Terry concedes. The muggles have have a clue or two after all, “I suppose the decide by categorising the charge of the crime and allotting the required sentence. We could attempt to do the same, lesser crimes receive fines or lesser sentences.” As Terry begins to think on the matter, he notes that the matter of funding would play an important part in the reform. “And then there’s the matter of funding.” Terry muses, “Funding to build, and funding to sustain. Not to mention the rigorous training we would have to provide for staff and Aurors.” 

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For somebody she considers one of her closest friends, Lisa comes to realise that Terry doesn’t often talk about things such as private thoughts and feelings and him doing so now seems to surprise him as much as it does her. She’s happy, though, almost flattered that he trusts her with something like this, and she has no qualms about saying as much if only he didn’t seem so uncomfortable with the whole situation. So she shallows back any words of encouragement and support she might’ve been considering, though she one thing she can’t quite hold back is her smile. “Ah, but see, who better to offer advice than somebody who knows precisely what they’re talking about? If anything, it’s all the more reason you should listen to me.” Her gaze flashes back to the protestors for a brief moment, smile somewhat dropping. While she’s glad Terry’s managed to find some peace of mind, at least temporarily, she has a feeling she’ll be thinking about them for some time. Not now, though, she thinks firmly, forcing her eyes back to Terry. “Prepare to experience the wonders of Muggle films, Boot,” she says and heads towards the cinema.

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“Hear, hear!” Terry smiles, eyes gleaming with equal parts admiration and amusement, “Lisa, your wisdom never ceases to amaze me.” He says it somewhat tinged with sarcasm, but it’s true. Terry is very appreciative of the fact that Lisa is in his life. They walk into the installation, leaving the noise and protests. And though he’s prepared to experience the wonder of muggle films, as Lisa so eloquently put it, the wheels in his mind never stop turning. He doubts he’ll be enjoying the movie, but he’ll try to -- otherwise, he’d never hear the end of it from her, “Ready.” He replies, managing a smile.

Watching him as she could see the wheels turning inside his head. She had a younger member of her party joke that he practically lives in his office. That there was no way he could be human like the rest of us, not someone who worked as much as he did. Daphne wouldn’t have such talk in her office. They would get nowhere if they just spent their time bad mouthing the opposite party members. 

As Daphne listened to him, she didn’t give much away. If she had it her way, the whole place would be torn down. Something new built. A new system. Not that she didn’t want those who chose to break the law just be able to walk away, but literally sucking the life out of someone wasn’t the right thing to do. “I’m sure I can convince people to back it in the House. It’s in dire need of reform and a facelift,” Daphne looked at him. What did he want in return was the big question. 

Having been to Azkaban herself once, she could still remember some of the poor souls who had suffered under the dementors reign. Where nobody seemed to bother with what happened to those who got a one-way ticket there. Only really working for the British Magical government for a mere 6 years, she knew that emotions wouldn’t get her anywhere. After all, as a child, she was taught that everyone else was beneath her. That they should fear those who still hold a pure line. 

“No crime should have that as it’s sentence Terrence,” Daphne said as she sipped her tea. The idea that they let those creatures do that to people made her feel sick. “I still say we tear the whole place to the ground and build a new prison on that lot, I know of it. Structure it as the Muggles do theirs. Some parts are for those who have committed a less serious crime and other parts for those who have committed more serious crimes. Leave that wretched place to finally fall apart.”

The Dementors Kiss belonged to an area long gone. It was said to be a fate worse than death, and that she believed. It made her sad for all those poor souls who had to suffer there. Not that it made their crimes less serious, and some deserved life behind bars. Still, nobody deserved to spend their final days with those nasty creatures hovering to take their last bits of sanity.

“This is just a small proposal to get our two camps talking,” Terry points to the parchment in Daphne’s hand, “-- i’m sure the details can be negotiated and detailed as per our liking.” he smirks, “It would greatly benefit us all if our two parties were supportive of each other’s initiatives.” Quid pro quo -- he was sure the question was swivelling around Daphne’s mind. What political deal isn’t a case of ‘you scratch my back, i’ll scratch yours’? “And what better than to start one together. I hope to discuss this proposition with Shacklebolt too.” 

Terry wasn’t opposed to mixing business with his personal life, in fact it came in rather handy at times, having a connection such as Daphne sitting across the aisle. He was glad they were on amicable terms, it meant he could get things done and have a functional relationship with an ex-girlfriend. Sometimes he’s so caught up with work and pushing things through he forgets to ask: “How’s the family?” Terry wasn’t particularly close with Daphne, but enough to know that she had a deceased husband and a young daughter. While the 

And her words he grimaces, and mutters under his breath, “Well, I could think of some deserving of such a fate.” He could think of more than some. After all, there were no shortage of Death Eaters during the Wizarding Wars committing despicable acts. Voldemort struck fear into their hearts, and while Dumbledore was one of the greatest wizards of all time, he didn’t inspire the discipline and order a sentence to Azkaban would. “Baby steps,” Terry says, taking another sip of his tea, “Let’s start with structure...could you elaborate more on the Muggle model?”

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Terry offers his help, which Terence decides to take as generosity, despite the petty Slytherin in him telling him its condescension. He knows that it’s not—at least, he’d like to believe that it isn’t, perhaps in part because there’s something about Boot that Terence has always liked (and he staunchly denies it has anything to do with them having the same name: he’s not that arrogant)—but there is a part of his pride that tends to get on the defence about his work. As an Unspeakable, he’s found that getting respect for what you do is actually harder than some might think. People aren’t impressed by things they get to know nothing about. 

Not that this is at all the case with Terry, of course—but perhaps Terence cares a great deal more about what the man thinks than he cares to admit. But that’s just sensible, isn’t it? To care that a man as politically connected and as high up in the Ministry as Terry Boot has a good impression of the work that you do, and your ability to do it well? Especially considering how much he’d campaigned for the technomagical initiative.

He sighs a little at the inquiry—not at Terry, but at the effort of trying to find a succinct way to answer him. “I suppose it’s… one thing to try to follow the science of it, but another thing entirely to riddle out how to make ourselves invulnerable to it. It’s… messy.” 

Terry spots the muggle texts, but doesn’t seem perturbed by it, which is a relief, despite Terence knowing he’d been over-thinking the whole thing in the first place. Apparently Terry puts him on edge. Or perhaps Terence’s ninth cup of tea is to blame for that.

“By all means,” he replies swiftly, when Boot asks to take a look. Terence’s gesture is a little tired, but his tone is earnest nonetheless. “But I know. A couple of them are all but useless, now. I’ve ordered a few new ones by Owl, but unfortunately it’s taking a lot longer than I’d like for them to arrive. In other circumstances, I might just pop in to a few shops myself…  but obviously that’s not in the cards, at the moment.” He tries his best to keep the weary resentment from his tone, and he does alright—but his ‘best’ when he’s this tired isn’t quite as convincing as it might be otherwise. 

I remember spotting you at the Techno-Fair. Terry’s language is professional, polite, as always, as is his smile. But something in Terence hesitates as Boot catches his gaze. Looking the man in the eyes properly is… he won’t go so far as to say intimidating, because he doesn’t think that’s really the case—but Terence finds himself casting about for a word that’s less implicating than ‘hypnotizing’. He has little success. 

“Oh, nothing to apologize for.” He shakes his head, breaking the eye contact. His gaze falls instead to Terry’s long fingers casually carding through the pages of one of the books. “I suspect you had your hands quite full.” And, as though his comment made him suddenly aware of his gaze, he looks back up. “But it was… I mean, quite earnestly, I think it was valuable. Given the controversial nature of the whole thing, I believe it was executed as… equitably as it could have been. Give or take a few… speed bumps out of Ministry control.” 

It went without saying, of course, that he was referring to the protests. And the thefts. But he doubted that the protests at least came as much of a surprise. They had to have known what they were getting into, and anticipated some sort of response from the public displeased with the Minister’s recent actions. 

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"It seems we are at an impasse. ” Terry sighs, skimming the contents of the book in his hand, “But if anyone can figure it out, it’s probably someone like you.” It had only been a month into this impossibly complex task but the clock was ticking. The no-contact statues we’re a short-term solution to a long-term problem. Still, Terry had faith in his countrymen to pull together and push forward. Failure is not an option. “Mysteries have kept Unspeakables going for decades. This is just another one.” 

The Department of Mysteries had been dissecting the otherworldly into understanding for centuries. Like the heart or the brain, or time and space -- all which silently pump us full of divine being, all which were once riddles now solved and printed into textbooks just like the one in his hand. Terry reads through the introduction silently; hoping that he’ll be reading about a spell, a charm, or even a god-forsaken invisibility cloak that can shield Magic from the lens of a smartphone in the near future.

“Well, what materials do you need?” Terry asks, snapping the book shut and carefully returning it to it’s original placement in the pile. Though Terry agrees procedure has it’s place, sometimes the rules must he misshapen and bent for true progress. Right now, all incoming material from the Muggle World was filtered though the Muggle Liaison Office who took their own sweet time with each item in the name of national security. Paired with the additional shipping and delivery, it was all time the Technomagical Initiative didn’t have. “Perhaps I can help speed things up for you.” Terry is used to throwing his weight around to trying to get things done, he’s also not opposed to some external help if it meant moving this whole process along. With the Techno-Fair embroiled with bad press, the Technomagical Initiative needed a win, and Terry was determined to get one.

Thinking of which, it’s probably time to may Potter a visit about the stolen items from the fair. His brows furrow together just thinking about it, and then quickly relax once he realises he look they cast on his face. As Terence speaks a small smile slowly splays across his face, watching as the man finds all the right words to wrap the disaster that in a pretty euphemism. Terry’s piercing blue eyes meet Terence’s gaze, a small defeated chuckle escapes his lips, “Well, I suppose if those in attendance took saw some value in it, it wasn’t a total failure.” He says with a small shrug.

SMOKE & MIRRORS | listen on spotify.

                       Character Development Task

A SONG THAT ENCOMPASSES YOUR CHARACTER’S ESSENCE WHILE THEY WERE ATTENDING HOGWARTS.

EXPERIENCE - LUDOVICO EINAUDI

Terry loves the piano and the violin, and has played both instruments since his days at Boot House. Though he couldn’t continue playing Hogwarts, he loved listening to classical music while he read or studied in the Ravenclaw common room. While he loves the traditional Mozart, Vivaldi and Beethoven, Terry liked to explore more contemporary artists like Einaudi and this piece of music is one he thoroughly enjoys even today.

THEIR FEELINGS TOWARDS THE BATTLE OF HOGWARTS, OR ITS AFTERMATH

GRACELESS - THE NATIONAL 

( TW: DRUG ABUSE, PTSD, DEPRESSION )

In the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts Terry was deeply afflicted, both physically and mentally. He was gravely wounded and spent months in the hospital wards in recovery. He suffered from post traumatic stress disorder, wherein he would experience recurrent gory dreams of the war and went through several bouts of depression. After his release from the ward, Terry found it difficult to cope and this led him to self-medicate with over-the-counter potions and more illicit magical drugs...

YOUR CHARACTER’S MOST MAJOR OR PIVOTAL LIFE EVENT

GEMINI FEED - BANKS

The events leading up to and including Terry’s divorce from his ex-wife, an American half-blood witch, Clarisse. Their marriage and subsequent divorce was a messy and terribly emotional affair, and has gone to shape Terry’s perception of love and relationships significantly.

A SONG THAT ENCOMPASSES YOUR CHARACTER’S ESSENCE IN THE PRESENT

SMOKE & MIRRORS - GOYTE

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“It’s refreshing to one of us but not to both. I’m glad you’re getting some entertainment out of it, though.” As much as Harry can try to deny it, he’s aware that this is for his safety. The “demotion” was as much as moving a rung down the ladder as it is moving up. The Ministry sees him as an even more valuable commodity than he ever had been and it’s all too obvious to him. There are few people in the Ministry who are daring enough to openly express their disagreement with the final verdict, but Harry knew better than to believe that all in the Ministry were are indignant and vocal as his department. Those who work in the Auror Office live in their own ecosystem and only has so much time their schedule to worry about other people think. It hasn’t always been like this: the Office used to be much more open to collaboration and in tune with the Ministry, but they’ve become more insular (Harry and his colleagues prefer to use the term close-knit but alas). Their internal tendencies only increased after they had lost two of their own and Harry had been punished in the wake. Harry doesn’t feel any need to apologize: he can’t control his department’s demeanors and besides, the only person he truly answers to is Hermione, who would never do so much as let him go. 

Harry puts down his quill and listens somewhat patiently to Terry’s explanation. As usual, he collects all of the facts in his head. Espionage is familiar to him in more ways than one–capturing domestic spies is a part of every Auror’s job, as well as doing a bit of digging through the dirt on their own. Still, he works with international affairs much less than Terry, despite once being sent across nations’ borders as frequently as his peers. Harry didn’t get recognized abroad nearly as often he did on his home soil, making those missions humbling and his favorite sort. 

“I appreciate you asking for my permission,” he responds, voice measured. He has only worked with other departments a handful of times, passing on the time-sucking collaborative proposals to his inferiors while he took on the terrors happening on English ground. “However, it’d be best if we discuss how off the books you’re both planning to go.” He says. “While these practices may have worked under Shacklebolt, we can’t work under the same procedures with the public as critical as it is right now. At the very least, we’ll have to write it up and send it to Hermione for her to disperse as she chooses,” Harry explains. Then, the Technofair arises. “Already on it. I’ve sent a team to create a detailed outline that I’ll later revise. We should have more than enough Aurors present to make sure your event functions smoothly. However, I won’t be able to be there myself. Those are the Ministry’s rules, not mine.”

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He usually chooses his words with such care and thought, a small sorry smile for his perceived insensitivity softens the harsh lines in his features. Terry didn’t mean it as a jab, “Entertainment aside, it’ll be nice to have you around. Perhaps we should take lunch at the Atrium one-day and catch up?”

“Pardon me, off-the-books is perhaps the wrong choice of words. Undercover is perhaps more fitting.” Terry presses his back against the cushion, “Or a sting operation, as the Americans tend to call it. I’ll leave the technical language to you but it is essential that our mission - should you choose to approve it - remains strictly confidential and on a need-to-know basis. No paper-trail. I’m sure such practices are already in use, and I’m confident in the abilities of your resources. Namely Burke.” 

Kingsley Shacklebolt may sit on the other side of the bench now, but he is still respected by Terry. A small protest in his defence begins to rise but is silenced by Terry’s rationality. “Though I have no objection, I’m sure Minister Granger has more pressing matters to see to than this.” Terry says with a grin as sharp as a knife; the Wizengamot had taken away Harry’s freedom on-the-job, but not his agency or his authority. Well, maybe a little of that too. “I would have thought it to fall directly under your own purview.”

“Thank you kindly, Mr Potter.” He smiles, rising from his seat and buttoning his suit, “Ah, a shame.” Terry says pursuing his lips, “-- although I suppose you could attend on a technicality.” He shrugs nonchalantly, “Off-duty Aurors are allowed to enjoy the finer pleasures of Muggle entertainment at a Ministry-sanctioned event, are they not?” 

Having been gone for a while, it was a combination of taking her daughter to see her French grandparents. They still didn’t like the thought of their granddaughter attending Hogwarts rather than Beauxbatons. There had also been plenty of work. Some French citizens had tried to inflintrate some departments in the British Ministry, and some French extremists had made the trip across the Channel. As a former diplomat she was asked to speak to her French counterparts, it gave them a little break from her parents. It also gave her time with her daughter, the throught of her being sent off to school terrified her. Taking her cup when the tea was finished, she raised her eyebrow at his words. Looking at the parchment that was passed to her as she sipped her tea, letting go of the saucer as it floated in the air next to her, she took the paper from his desk.

“I’ve been asking for this for a long time Terry. This Muggle buisness is taking too much time in the House. It might have gotten better after we got rid of the Dementors, but there are documented cases of Aurors abusing their power. This Technological Initiative is getting too much attention,“ Reading the paper “Also why are we still keeping that wretched place as a prison. It makes us as bad as the Dark Ages.”

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Would the world be a better place without Azkaban?

While the Liberal Magical Party would say yes without a doubt and members of the Wizarding Reformist Party would agree (though on varying levels), Terry privately disagrees. 

To him, the real question is: Is it better to be feared or to be loved?

Love has no place in government. Fear, though -- - fear is useful, fear is effective, and Azkaban - depicted to be worse than death - is the most feared fate in all of Great Britain and Ireland. A looming consequence that preys on the mind of every witch and wizard, and keeps law-abiding citizens law-abiding. Fear can influence. With the recent breaches and the resurgence of ring-wing politics, order must be maintained by any means necessary. The threat of exposure is no joke. Dismantling the very institution that keeps the wixen population from breaking the law out of fear, is well, foolish. Doing it in the name of peace and prosperity is even more so. 

Despite his Maccahvelian approach, Terry isn’t completely heartless. He doesn’t believe everyone who’s ever graced the halls of Azkaban deserves the treatment. He takes a sip of his tea, and pauses, “Well, if it’s the limelight you desire, we’re happy to share,” Terry says with a small grin, but it quickly changes back into the grim line he wears all too often, “Ah yes,” Azkaban, as horrid, wretched, and dreadful had its place in the structure of the Ministry of Magic, and Terry was not looking to change that any time soon, “-- while I share your sympathies and abuse of power is an issue that needs to be dealt with, Azkaban is an instrumental piece in maintaining law and order especially during such unprecedented times. Instead, I propose the reprising of Hebrides.” You can’t please everyone, but Terry can sure try, “Long-forgotten and resigned to the ministerial archives over three hundred years ago, Hebrides was the original plot that was planned to build a prison. I propose we build it as a second prison, manned by Hit-Wix rather than Dementors, to hold those who have committed less severe crimes. Not every misdemeanour is deserving of a Dementor’s Kiss, wouldn’t you agree?” Terry returns his cup to its saucer, “Thoughts?”

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It’s not as though she needs confirmation that she’s right – she knows perfectly well that she is – but it’s nice to hear it all the same and despite everything, Lisa manages a smile. “About time you figured that out.” His excitement is understandable, though, and it’s not like she herself doesn’t share it. Maybe if she weren’t so damn tired she could even show it, but as it is, the best she can do is reach out and give his arm a light squeeze. “I don’t care about the film, Terry, but if you keep getting so worked up over everything you’ll burn yourself out before we’ve even gotten this project off the ground. Just… try to take it easy, okay? Well. Easier. I know you’re too much of a workaholic to fully relax.” Her attempt to lighten the mood might be somewhat obvious, but she’s determined to push on and so she lets her smile turn teasing. “That said, I was promised a film and it would just be in poor taste for you to back out now. So. The King’s Speech?”

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“I apologise for taking oh-so long.” Terry replies sarcastically, it is light-hearted and accompanied with a charming smile. Lisa gives his arm a squeeze, it soothes the storm brewing in his head and gives him comfort when he needs it most, “I know. It’s just hard to stop.” he turns to her, “My mind just doesn’t know how to.” Terry doesn’t talk at all about his personal feelings, and his show of vulnerability to Lisa catches him by surprise too. Upon his realisation, his cheeks start to flush from embarrassment, he’s thankful she teases him next so he can brush it off in the next breath. "I’m too much of a workaholic? Well, isn’t it the pot calling the kettle black.” he scoffs playfully. “As you wish.” He says, one arm outstretched in the direction of the cinema, “After you, miss.”