#antonin001

At the Ministry of Magic, they had a thing about hierarchy. 

Outside of these walls – their fake windows, the mimicked weather – Edgar abhorred hierarchy. The fountain in the lobby twisted his stomach uncomfortably every morning. His involvement in the Order, he hoped, spoke for itself. People were no better than other people; man should make it his absolute purpose to protect and uplift his fellow man. All of this was in line with how he was raised, all of this was stuff he believed in! 

That being said...there was something to walking down the corridors of the Ministry and know that he was an Auror. 

On Level Two, he was “just” a trainee – the lowest of the low among the rest of the Aurors, and a fact made clear by the glares of Moody and the hazing of his more experienced colleagues. But even the lowest within the Auror Department, the way Edgar saw it, was leagues above the suits and paper-pushers that drifted among the rest of the Ministry. Only the Minister and his direct staff were more celebrity in Edgar’s eyes than the brotherhood (’siblinghood, don’t be an arse,’ his brain corrected itself, sounding very much like Amelia) he was pushing himself day in and day out to finally, officially join. 

So while Edgar Bones definitely loved and supported all of his Ministry peers, there was always a certain pep in his step when he got to walk around, coffee in hand and an oh so knowing smile on his face. He’d worshipped the Auror department for so long and, while he wouldn’t admit it out loud to just anyone, he definitely assumed that he was being admired now, too. 

Stepping into the lift, Edgar realized that the only other occupant was a familiar face from his school days, looking polished and busy and carrying some self-importance in his own posture. 

“Long week?” Edgar asked, internally clinging to his sleeplessness and implying, just a little, that nobody could have possible had a longer week than himself. “Thank Merlin it’s Friday, am I right?” 

He was not supposed to be here, although there had been times Fabian was assigned to work in this room. However, Death had never been a mystery that interested him overly much. Not until now. 

There were whispers coming from the Veil, most Unspeakables could hear them. That was the type of person drawn to this work.  Whispers they might be, difficult to hear, but right now Fabian found them glaringly loud. None of them spoke with his cousin’s voice. He had come in hoping to hear it, some message from beyond. 

But there was nothing. He might as well still be on leave for all the desire he had to go to his office and work. Despite the lack of desire he felt, that would be wiser. Fabian knew those who stared too long into the archway could become entranced by it, could be called to walk inside. That was not the way he wanted to find answers. 

But really, what was the use of all of it? His studies into divination hadn’t helped him prevent Athena’s death - even the centaur’s vaunted knowledge had done nothing but make her last days sorrowful for her.  Fabian started to pace around the circular room, no longer looking directly into the shadow of the Veil, in the hopes that would stop its effect from taking hold on him. 

There had to be answers in this room. There had to be.