RATIOS

GRYFFINDOR
18
HUFFLEPUFF
10
RAVENCLAW
17
SLYTHERIN
12
HOGWARTS
12
MINISTRY
19
MAGICAL
20
MUGGLE
1
FEMALES
47
MALES
60
NONBINARY
2
TOTAL
109

NEEDED: CANONS, PROFESSORS, HUFFLEPUFFS,
HOGSMEADEANS, AURORS, LADIES

APRIL2021

S
M
T
W
T
F
S
1
2
3
4
6
8
9
10
11
13
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
NEWS

09.09 - March OTMs are here!
09.02 - April events are here!
09.02 - April update is here!
08.26 - March OTM submissions are here!
08.05 - March update (moving forward) is here!
07.20 - HFTA Challenge number 3 winner is here!
07.14 - Plot update is here!
06.24 - February OTMs are here!
06.17 - March events are here!



APRIL 2021
The Wizarding World is once again free to move as it will, but those liberated from the barrier are not the only ones taking full advantage of their newfound liberation and mobility. Danger roams free...and hides in plain sight.
APRIL 1-30 NOW OPEN

Pages: (2) 1 2  ( Go to first unread post ) C L O S E DTOPIC      POLL 

» 25 January 2021 | Dedication to a New Age, Tag: All Ministry
Admin
 Posted: Apr 3 2017, 12:08 AM
QUOTE     
Mica is Offline
797
posts
years old


Head Admin


Wizarding rumor was, aside from the mass hysteria that accompanied word of a resurrected Dark Wizard and the impenetrable force that loomed over Hogwarts, that the Ministry of Magic was falling apart at the seams. The biological attack had weakened their government from within, and had proven to feed the darkness that had begun to plague wizarding Britain. The magical community was in disarray, fractured into factions by fear. As the morning dawned on the day of January 25th, the guest entrance drew a suspiciously long queue of Hogwarts parents, concerned citizens and picketers that would soon overflow the sanctioned-off area of the lobby specifically designated for non-personnel witches and wizards.

Upon entrance the picketers massed along the ropes, their chanting voices carrying into the inner lobby beyond as other passed pamphlets to those in the queue who waited in line to be questioned and inspected for enchantments by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement patrol. Many would be turned away, many others fielded into waiting areas. The process was slow and arduous. Within the inner sanctum of the Ministry, an essential-staff conference began in the depths of Courtroom Three. It was a rectangular room with sloped, stadium-like seating, rows of benches which faced a focal table at the head of the room.

Melloc Crowther, the sallow bags beneath his eyes speaking volumes on the state of his being, sat in a central location, framed with Department Heads on either side who would be addressing the Ministry on current affairs. A podium occupied the left-hand corner, but Minister for Magic Crowther would not be using it. His fists knotted together on the tabletop before him, his heart knotted with the weight of his position, Crowther nodded to Counselor Oddwex and the small man took the podium. The man glanced at the parchment upon the stand and touched his wand to his throat. “Let us begin,” he attempted, and cleared his throat, “Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. Let us begin.” A silence fell.

“January the twenty-fifth, all-essential-personnel conference will commence. I am Hepnaught Oddwex and I am conducting this conference. Minister for Magic Melloc Crowther will preside. The meeting will proceed as follows: Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Vanya Ravensby will address us first on the topic of Security, followed by Vreeshna Chaudhari of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, followed by Charles Drigglethwit of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, after which we will have a recess until two o’clock. Madam Ravensby—”

@Cassandra @Merel @Juni @Kris @Jaz @Jaja @Adam @Pepper @Drakky @Iggy @Lyla @Murtagh
MESSAGE     EMAIL     
^
Alaric Buchanan
 Posted: Apr 3 2017, 03:01 AM
QUOTE     
Merel is Offline
48
posts
19 years old

Public Information Services

London
Ministry


This month had dragged on long enough. There was so much that was happening, so much had happened. And yet nobody had any answers, they were no closer to having anything definitive. Everything was falling apart around them. Nothing good was coming from any of this. At all. And he didn't like it. He doubted anybody liked this. Why would anybody like this? Everything was just turning inside out and upside down. And everyone was flailing around, the whole ministry was flailing around. All Alaric could do was watch and wonder, there wasn't anything he could actually do. Nothing, and it was hopeless.

Today however they might get some answers. Today they were to have a big Ministry personnel meeting. Alaric was very intrigued but a little scared as to where this was going to go. What exactly was meant to happen? He had absolutely no idea. But he certainly couldn't miss this opportunity. One because his parents would kill him if they found out he didn't go, and two because he'd hate himself for not going. Something had to come of this.

He slugged along, hidden among the crowd on his way to find a seat. He never truly realised how many people worked at the Ministry until they were all gathered here. At least, this wouldn't be all of them, he realised. This couldn't be all of them. It was quite incredible. Once he had found a spot he glanced around, trying to find someone he knew, anybody. He couldn't help notice with his artistic eye how clear it was that everyone was stressed, worn down by the events that had happened. And the architecture of the room somehow reflected that. If he had the chance he'd sketch this scene, but he couldn't. He had to listen carefully, to take in as much information as possible, this was a very important meeting.

His thoughts about the sketch were interrupted by a voice, calling for attention. It was time to begin. Alaric sat up a little straighter, ears pricked. Time to listen.
MESSAGE     
^
Mateo Aguilar
 Posted: Apr 3 2017, 10:34 AM
QUOTE     
Adam is Offline
51
posts
35 years old

beast division

London
Ministry


Did Mateo even qualify as essential personnel? He didn’t know, but he had the misfortune of being in the office that day, while several of his colleagues were on field assignments, so here he was at this conference. When would people learn to leave the Beast Division to its own devices? Mateo didn’t care much for politics, or for the crowds of civilians who had been clogging up the public spaces in the Ministry for almost the whole month. Mateo had half a mind to skip out on the entire country until British wizards could come to agreement about how they were going to run the place, but the prospect of trying to get his cat and owl back across the ocean was not a pleasant one.

In the courtroom, Mateo found a seat near the back of the room and sat with his arms folded across his chest and his feet propped up on the currently empty bench in front of him. All he really wanted was to be left alone, and if it was going to take showing up at these kinds of meetings to make sure that he could be left alone, he would do it, but he couldn’t pretend he was going to be happy about it. For now, while people settled in, his mind was elsewhere, busy thinking of the pile of work currently sitting in his inbox. He had just gotten back from a field assignment, and there was a backlog, which made it all the more irritating that he had to be here, doing nothing productive and listening to other people talk.

He worked in the beast division because his tolerance for people was limited. People had been the reason for that explosion in the lobby all those weeks ago – the last of the little marks the pestilence had left on his skin were only now fading. He hadn’t been seriously injured, but enough to leave a few lasting marks, which were now itching like crazy as new skin pushed out the damaged old parts. As Oddwex began speaking, Mateo scratched his arm absentmindedly, realizing very quickly that he was going to be here a lot longer than he’d expected.

Mateo swore softly under his breath, in Spanish. This was going to take the entire day, when he’d been expecting to sacrifice only a few hours, and somehow that knowledge made him a hundred percent more irritated than he’d been before.
MESSAGE     
^
Rowan Drake
 Posted: Apr 3 2017, 03:15 PM
QUOTE     
Drakky is Offline
205
posts
51 years old

Senior Auror

London
Ministry


[dohtml]
Essential personnel’, Rowan reflected, was a category all too loosely defined. The higher echelons of the Ministry seemed to apply it exclusively to whichever demographic of employee they wished to inconvenience most at any given moment. As he slipped through the doors of Courtroom Three, however, he was hard-pressed to identify the logic behind this particular application of the term ‘essential’. So far, it seemed, this included - but was not limited to - the Minister for Magic, various Department Heads, aging Aurors, disgruntled members of the Beast Division and any and all assistants to Martin Burridge. <p>
He hadn’t even bothered trying to convince Ravensby that he didn’t qualify as essential, mostly because he was privately rather concerned that she didn’t need much convincing in that regard - especially in light of his recent wolf-related escapades. Besides, he entertained no fantasies that she’d actually brief him on anything important arising from the conference – if he wanted to keep abreast of the developing Ministerial situation, he had no other option but to attend. <p>
For a fleeting moment, Rowan hovered in the doorway, eyeing the table at the head of the room. Once he was certain that Ravensby had seen him, he dipped his chin just a fraction and made for a seat towards the back. ‘Watch the crowd,’ she’d told him, ‘watch the reactions. You know what to do.’ She had left the obvious unsaid: report back. And so, dedicated to the task of being his Head of Department’s eyes in the sky, he slipped into the bench behind Mateo Aguilar, claiming a vantage point which afforded him an unrivalled view of every corner of the room. No face would be hidden from him, no expression subtle enough to escape his roving gaze.<p>
Mateo’s expressions, at least, were beautifully unsubtle; Rowan knew invectives when he heard them, language notwithstanding. Leaning forward, he dropped his voice to a low whisper. “Now then Aguilar, that’s hardly the way to address our esteemed Minister Crowther and Counselor Oddba-…Oddwex.” He paused, frowning in consternation – every single time, Merlin take it. One of these days it was going to slip out while he was talking to Oddwex. Even being ‘essential’ wouldn’t save him then. <p>
With a sigh, he slumped back in his seat, observing the shifting expressions of the Ministry’s powers-that-be as they sat gathered around the head table. Nothing immediately leapt out at him, save for Crowther’s more or less obvious distress – but then, Melloc Crowther was always distressed about something or other, and being Minister for Magic hadn’t really improved that state of affairs. Rowan had no doubt, however, that things would get more and more interesting as the hours wore on – they’d only just started, after all. As Ravensby took to the podium to speak, he crossed his arms and settled in to survey the gathered audience. <p>
@Adam<p>
(Ravensby cleared with @Cassandra)<p>
[/dohtml]
MESSAGE     EMAIL     
^
Victoire Weasley
 Posted: Apr 3 2017, 07:44 PM
QUOTE     
Juni is Offline
115
posts
20 years old

Auror in training

UK
Ministry


Ever since the article in the Quibbler was published, Victoire felt as if her days at the Ministry were counted, she felt as if every step she took could be the last one because Ravensby would call her to her office, talk to her, tell her that she was no longer fit to be part of the Auror team. For so long the young blonde was apprehensive, doubtful, for so long she thought that maybe this had been a bad idea because she didn't have what it took to be an Auror, she thought that maybe she wasn't brave enough, smart enough to do this. But now that her job was at stake, now that her reputation had been ruined and she knew she had to prove she could do it even if she couldn't help but feel like crumbling down every so often, Victoire found herself wanting her job more than ever before, clinging to the mere idea of it for dear life, trying her best to continue with her life even if she knew that it was as uncertain as it ever was now. She was not happy with it, certainly, but there was not much she could do about it, not when the entire wizarding community had their eyes on her.

The amount of people there, wanting to have their questions answered, wanting an explanation made her feel frightened, a new feeling for she had never been wary of people, she had never shied away from them, but it was just that now she felt their eyes on her whenever she went, she felt people's eyes judging her, wondering what she was still doing there, wanting to come closer only to ask why she hadn't resigned yet. Was she being paranoid? Maybe, maybe she was being paranoid, maybe she was letting fear and disappointment get the best of her, but what else could she do, she thought, when everything reminded her of the tragedy? When no matter how many days went by the image of the train crashing, exploding, the cars turning, the screams rising, still plagued her mind every single night? She hoped it would all disappeared one day but she highly doubted it would be today. So, even if it was unlike her to do such a thing, she walked with her head down, her blue eyes looking down at her fidgeting fingers as she made her way to the meeting.

She wasn't sure what they would be doing, especially because they were told that only essential personnel would be there, yet she was told to go because it was apparently important. And, of course, the first thing that came to her mind was that they would be discussing her continuation in the Auror squad, that they would be discussing her resignation, but surely they didn't need the heads of every other department there, right? Right, once again, she thought she was being paranoid, but it was hard to stop when she knew she could be told to leave at anytime, without a single hint of regret due to the terrible consequences on the Ministry that her mistake brought along. But she had to have a shred of hope, not because she was convinced of such a thing, not anymore, but because the outlook of life was too bleak and gloomy without it. So, yes, they had to be doing something else, right? They had to. Besides, the minister was there so it had to be something much more important, probably something that had to do with the current situation of the Ministry after the attack of that night? Honestly, she had no idea but she was terribly curious about it.

When she entered the room, the murmurs of everyone in there welcomed her as she looked around, trying to understand what was going on, trying to see if she could see a familiar face. Yes, the heads of several departments were there, other employees who were just as important, there were just so many people and at the sight of them, Victoire frowned, wondering why she had been called in. Strange, definitely strange, but now that she was there, all the girl wanted to do was know what on earth was going on and what the meeting was going to be about. Because of that, she simply started looking for a place to seat before she noticed a familiar face, one that made her smile, Alaric. Knowing that this was a very professional and important gathering, the twenty year old made her way to her friend and sat in the seat behind him, instantly reaching out to touch his shoulder once she was there. "Hi," she said, quietly, waving her hand a little before turning to look at the person who was conducting the whole meeting.

All the important people were going to be talking, apparently. Ravensby being the first one and Merlin, she was ashamed to even be in the same room as the woman for she knew she was probably the biggest disappointment of her entire career. Wasn't she her entire family's disappointment too, right now? Honestly, she didn't know, but unfortunately, it was a feeling that had been slowly growing within her during the past few days.

@Merel
MESSAGE     
^
Connor O'Caroll
 Posted: Apr 3 2017, 07:58 PM
QUOTE     
Natalie is Offline
35
posts
28 years old

DMGS Photographer

United Kingdom
Archived


[dohtml]<div class="n-site-template">

Now that things had finally calmed down, it was time to start addressing the matters at hand. Connor's eyes glanced at the people in the courtroom, recognising most of their faces and which departments they belonged to. While being in The Department of Magical Games and Sports did not sound like it meant much, they were still part of this entire organisation after all. It was of utmost importance that he made his way here although a part of him was there because he wanted to make sense of what was going on. He had gotten out of the building relatively unscathed, with some marks burned into his skin and he knew that was a very unusual case.<p>

Slipping into an empty seat next to Alaric Buchanan. He was a nice young lad, Connor had surmised a long time ago, and a little on the quiet side. Kind of reminded the ex-Quidditch player about himself, just a little less aggressive. "Hey kid," he greeted softly, sending a small smile in Buchanan's direction before allowing his gaze to settle upon Melloc Crowther's melancholic expression as Counseler Oddwex went up to the stand and began the meeting, stating their itinerary for the first half of the session, before recess. There were a lot of things to address and there was more to it. He was especially looking forward to them addressing the section about Grindelwald's revival. Keeping his expression neutral but focused, Connor proceeded to listen carefully to what Oddwex had to say.<p>

<center>@Merel @Mica</center>

</div>[/dohtml]
MESSAGE     
^
Lowen Dunnet
 Posted: Apr 4 2017, 06:27 PM
QUOTE     
Jess is Offline
31
posts
30 years old

Muggle Liaison

London
Ministry


Lowen had worked at the Ministry for over a decade. He couldn’t recall the last time a meeting like this had been called—a conference where the Heads of nearly every department would speak and address policy and protocol. All essential personnel were expected to attend, and while he did wonder if he even qualified, he’d heard from a colleague that Chaudhari did expect the liaisons to attend (those of them who were in-office today, at any rate). He’d done everything right that morning: gotten up early as he usually did, taken Kat for her morning walk, addressed the pile of paper airplane memos that had piled up on his desk the afternoon and evening before. Discarded the ones that were from Orsen dicking around. And somehow, he was late to the bloody meeting he’d been preparing for all day. He skipped the lift and went for the stairs, cursing every deity he knew under his breath as he took the steps in pairs. He was so tired, he’d only nodded off for a moment, leaned back in his chair, and when he’d woken, the office had been cleared out. Some co-workers he had—someone could’ve woken him.

He arrived outside of Courtroom Three out of breath and found the doors already closed. He cursed again and took a moment to compose himself. When he pushed through the doors, he saw that the entire courtroom was filled with people. The stadium seats went all the way to the back in a half-moon shape. At the front of the room were the department heads. Ravensby was getting ready to take the stage, and he paled a bit, his glance going from her to Chaudhari. He could handle Vreeshna’s wrath well enough, but Ravensby… That woman would put the fear of God into anyone.

Hoping beyond hope that no one would notice his late entrance, Lowen eased the heavy door shut behind him and scanned the crowd for an empty seat. He looked for Orsen, but couldn’t immediately find him. Instead, his eyes landed upon a vacancy in the middle of a row. As was his luck, there weren’t any aisle seats available on this side of the room, so he figured it was the best he could get. “Excuse me,” he whispered, edging along in front of the people already sitting. “Sorry,” he said to another, and “I’m sorry, that was your toe, wasn’t it,” to a gruff-looking man he vaguely recognized as a Level Five employee. Finally, he reached the empty seat and eased himself into it. Getting his bearings, he realized that by happy providence, he’d taken a seat next to Victoire Weasley. He knew who she was, of course. Everyone in the Ministry did at this point, though they may not have otherwise paid any attention to a new trainee in the Auror department.

He looked at her and offered a small smile, thought about saying something encouraging, but the sentiments died as, predictably, he found his tongue unable to produce words. He settled for “Hi,” and turned his attention to the front of the room as he fished a small notepad from an inner pocket in his robes, upon which he could take notes during the meeting. Of course, by ‘notes’ he really meant ‘doodles of Ravensby as an actual Raven,’ but the intention was good.

@Juni @Mica
MESSAGE     
^
Rodger Thorpe
 Posted: Apr 4 2017, 07:55 PM
QUOTE     
Jaz is Offline
23
posts
43 years old

Auror

United Kingdom
Archived


It was no secret that the Ministry was falling apart. It was breaking apart from the inside out, like a sinkhole. The water had been collecting under the ground, eroding the earth beneath their feet for quite some time now. The more Rodger thought about it, the more obvious that became. This wasn't something that started recently, it had been going on for a while. Any amount of time was too long for something like this to be going on. First it had been the group of intruders in the Department of Mysteries. They'd been informed by another ministry worker, one of their own: Undine, the maintenance worker. How could a lowly custodian know enough to put them on the edge of disaster? Drake's discovery of her lycanthropy had been a matter all its own. He'd never thought he could call someone a bitch quite so literally. The bitch, that snake in the grass, had dealt a dangerous blow. That was an understatement. Her treachery had shaken the ground beneath their feet. And now the Ministry's once solid foundation was finally starting to crumble, fall apart. They were all paying for the damage, the destruction it wrought. Don't even get him started on Ron Weasley, his former colleague who went missing in action but was found and returned, but it turned out he had been dead the whole time, with an imposter in his place. Then fake-Weasley had exploded into a cloud of spores right in the middle of the ministry. God damned spores.

Rodger had to be there to pick up the pieces and try to put it back together. He was an auror. It was his duty, his responsibility. He did not doubt this fact for a second. He knew what he was getting himself into when he had enlisted to be an auror in the first place. He knew the liability the job entailed. He was a Thorpe, like his father and his older brother. His family was one of pride and honor. He had to carry on that tradition, pass it down to his children. It hadn't been the notion of adventure that made him become an auror. No, it was a need to take responsibility that his mother and father had instilled in him and his brothers from a young age. Protect and serve was what they were taught. Rodger, like his brothers and father, went straight from school into auror training. Junior had followed the 'protect and serve' mantra on a far different front, going into the muggle army when he graduated from Hogwarts, after which he joined the likes of his brothers as an auror. Perhaps one of the biggest shocks of Rodger's life had been when he heard his little brother had been sorted into Slytherin. Honestly, Junior had always struck him as a Hufflepuff. Still, he was proud of his little brother and the unconventional path he had taken.

He arrived in the courtroom before the bulk of the crowd came. He sat down, setting the piece of parchment he had brought with on his desk and drawing a quill from his pocket. He had every intention of taking some very detailed notes from the meeting. He found he was best able to organize his thoughts and the things he knew when he could see them written out in front of him. He wasn't sure why that was the case, he just knew it was. He needed order, especially in a time like this, when that was the exact opposite of what they had. He had to find some level of stability, otherwise how could he hope to get anything done? He worked best under pressure, but if everything around him was chaos, he often found it was rather difficult to focus on the task at hand, whatever that may be. Unless, of course, the task was fighting. In which case, chaos—especially when he was right in the thick of it—had a way of making him fight harder. If he didn't, he didn't survive a battle. That was the way it worked. Fighting was one of the only things he did well without some level of organization.

Honestly, he hated being here, sitting at a desk while a superior talked down to him like he was some sort of schoolboy. He belonged out on the field, working. Not in a stupid conference where they just restated everything they already knew about the mole and fake-Weasley and the intruders. There was a part of him that could understand the need for such a meeting, but that didn't mean he had to like it. His opinion on the whole thing was the exact opposite of liking. He fidgeted with his quill. God damn you, Ravensby. Rodger didn't belong here. The only thing he was essential for was getting rid of bad guys. He knew he was intelligent, but that was an asset best put to work in action. Real action. As in fighting. In fact, that was what they should have been doing, not sitting on their asses and talking about wolves and trains and spores. They needed to do something. The school, the country would not be helped by their long conference. Despite his rather strong opinion, Rodger could see that he didn't have much of a choice in the matter. So, there he was, ready to get going, get this thing over with.

He watched the crowd start to file in, his fellow aurors mixed in with some of the other employees. He watched them all silently as they took their seats. Ravensby explained how the whole thing would go down. They'd talk in order—that sounded too formal, like something they did in primary school: 'Take your turn, Johnny.' And recess, the term almost made him laugh. He understood it in this context, but still, he wasn't a lawyer. And this whole thing was starting to sound more and more like primary school with every word Ravensby spoke. It was hard to stifle his laugh of incredulousness. "Oh, you've got to be taking the piss," He muttered to himself, low enough—he hoped—to go unheard, "What are we? Children?"
MESSAGE     
^
Vanya Ravensby
 Posted: Apr 5 2017, 05:43 PM
QUOTE     
Cassandra is Offline
40
posts
68 years old

DMLE Head

Ministry of Magic
Ministry


Vanya Ravensby stepped up to address the conference, her mouth set in a grim line as she allowed her watchful gaze to locate the Chief of Magical Law Enforcement Patrols, and each one of her present Aurors. She liked knowing where her damn people were, which was unfortunately more than she could say for some of the Aurors, recently. There was Thorpe, looking uncomfortable--she shot him a sharp look to pay attention. There was Weasley, somehow tenacious even after the brutality of the media--good (she had better be). There was Drake--who she thought might still benefit from her Having Some Words with him. She couldn't risk him going vigilante like he had so long ago. Once she had counted them off to her satisfaction, Vanya rose, her movements as short and efficient as possible in order for her to reach the podium. She lifted her wand of red oak to her throat and addressed the gathered personnel.

“For over three hundred years, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has been charged with protecting the magical community from threats both internal and external. This is not a responsibility that any of us take lightly, and in light of recent events, I believe you all deserve a greater commitment from our Department.

For the first time in twenty three years, our Ministry, our governmental home and our workplace has been the target of an attack. This is unacceptable, and we will adapt. We must endeavor to protect the Ministry with greater resolve. Our success is largely dependent on the ironclad dedication of our officers, and from the Magical Law Enforcement Patrols to the Auror Department, we will be adapting and reshaping our security to combat what appears to be a threat of--”

@Mica
MESSAGE     
^
NPC
 Posted: Apr 10 2017, 12:41 AM
QUOTE     
NPC is Offline
8
posts
- years old

-

-
Wizarding World


[dohtml]<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Aguafina+Script" rel="stylesheet"><style>.first { margin-left: 0px; float: left; font-family: Aguafina Script; text-transform: uppercase; font-size: 35px; color: #000; padding: 10px; line-height: 50%; font-style: normal; } .txt { background: #fff; padding: 0px; width: 400px;line-height: 120%; font-size: 11px; letter-spacing: 0.5px; font-family: calibri; text-align: justify; color: #2d2d2d;}</style>


<center><div class="txt"><div style="margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify; border: 5px double #ddd; padding: 25px;">


<div class="first">T</div>he assassin sat with woven fists tucked between his knees, the subtle ripple of fingertips against his knuckles the only evidence of apprehension. He said hello to those who addressed him, working ill-fitting pleasantries to the surface of face that did not belong to him. It was far from his first affair with polyjuice. Get in, complete the objective, get out— the assassin knew the routine. It didn't matter that he knew nothing of the target whose likeness he occupied, the face had been but a ticket of admittance within the Ministry's conference, to which Minister of Magic Melloc Crowther would be in attendance. <p>

The assassin watched the Minister from where he sat near the rear of the courtroom, and calculated the distance with the angle. An infallible aim, he was confident that his mistress would be pleased with the result. The assassin, in return, would be pleased with his reward. He was no stranger to the woman Morrigan, nor her powers of resurrection. He had fought in her name in Bulgaria, a true believer of not only her might, but her cause. He now faced the ultimate sacrifice in exchange for the life of his child; one year dead. No fool, he knew the chances of escaping the Ministry were slim to none. To return his daughter to the arms of her grieving mother would be a worthy trade, never matter his own outcome. The instructions were simple: kill Crowther by any means necessary and do not be taken alive.<p>

As the conference began, the assassin worked his Ash from his sleeve as acid built in his throat. He felt a shudder in the effect of his polyjuice as the woman called Ravensby addressed the gathering, and knew his time was short. Forcing himself to act, and finding it suddenly difficult, the assassin pushed stiffly to his feet and, through grit teeth, he growled the incantation for the killing curse. The spark left his Ash and jolted toward the head table, connecting solidly with Melloc Crowther's sternum. A perfect hit. The man's torso rocked upon impact, limp neck whipping backward, toppling the chair with a clamor that echoed against the walls. Fear and electric tension filled the room. "For the Greater Good!" The assassin screamed, the lips of his flesh and blood disguise rigid, eyes wild, and he clambered over the back of the bench, racing toward the doors at the back of the room.
<p></div></div>
</center> [/dohtml]
Anyone can react, but Mateo @Adam will intervene.
MESSAGE     EMAIL     
^
Mateo Aguilar
 Posted: Apr 10 2017, 03:54 PM
QUOTE     
Adam is Offline
51
posts
35 years old

beast division

London
Ministry


Mateo looked up at Rowan as the other man addressed him, a little bit of a smile playing at his lips. Most times he spoke Spanish to avoid other people knowing what he was saying, but some things were universal, regardless of language. “Looks like the pot’s calling the kettle black, pendejo,” he said pointedly, one eyebrow raised. That was also no way to address a colleague, but if there was anyone who would tolerate it, Rowan seemed a pretty safe bet. At least he wasn’t calling anyone oddball, but he was definitely going to incorporate that into his vocabulary. It seemed only fitting.

As people began talking, Mateo’s mind drifted, as it had a tendency to do when he wasn’t particularly interested in the proceedings before him. All he expected was flag-waving and words instead of actions, and as Ravensby began to speak, he immediately felt like his presumptions were proven right. Part of him wondered if he could get away with falling asleep right here in the audience. Would anyone – besides Rowan – even notice? As far as essential personnel went, he was pretty far down the list. The only time he was ever essential was when some magical creature was straying too close to a Muggle settlement. Any other time, and he was usually forgotten. His gaze wandered away from Ravensby, drifting through the crowd, never settling in one place too long.

Perhaps this was why he saw Moreau-Lapointe move first.

He wasn’t quite close enough to hear the words the man said, but no one could miss that green flash. Not again, he thought, immediately. First the chemical attack, and now this. Ravensby’s words suddenly seemed hollow, maybe even ironic. There would be no twenty-three year gap between attacks on the Ministry this time. Mateo himself was witness to that.

Time seemed to slow. Mateo dove to the ground, as if that would protect him from anything. At the man’s scream, however, he looked up. He was close – Drake was right behind him, he knew that, but Mateo was closer. As the man started climbing over the bench, beelining for the exit, he only came closer to Mateo’s position. Without conscious thought, Mateo drew his wand, muscles coiling and ready to strike. It had to have been too long to wait, right? Seconds felt so long, and he didn't dare look to see what others were doing. That was what he did with fleeing animals -- if you looked away, you risked losing sight of them.

There was no time to think; there was only time to act. He could kneel here on the floor doing nothing, or he could step outside his usual job and stop this murderer from getting away. There would be time for questions later. He couldn’t let this hijo de puta escape. Bloody hell, this wasn’t his job. He was supposed to deal with animals, not people. He wasn’t even supposed to be here. This was a conference for essential personnel, not mid-level Control of Magical Creatures agents.

Essential personnel. This was no man – this was a beast. Mateo’s specialty.

Stupefy!” Mateo bellowed, springing to his feet and snapping his wand straight ahead, with a direct line to the man. The jet of red light from the cottonwood tip was so forceful it almost knocked Mateo back as well, but it hit its target squarely, sending him flying and stunned to the floor. A heartbeat, and then Mateo looked to see who had been the victim of the killing curse.

Crowther. Of course. If you want to sow discord and chaos, you kill the most powerful person in the room. The head of the snake, as it were. Merlin, no matter what the murderer was, man or beast, Mateo was inexperienced at human crises. He had acted -- but what now?

@Mica @Drakky

This post has been edited by Mateo Aguilar: Apr 10 2017, 04:26 PM
MESSAGE     
^
Rowan Drake
 Posted: Apr 11 2017, 08:42 AM
QUOTE     
Drakky is Offline
205
posts
51 years old

Senior Auror

London
Ministry


[dohtml]
Rowan just barely suppressed a snort at Mateo’s reply, mindful of Ravensby and the piercing glare she’d shot his way as she ascended to the podium. “That’s Senior Auror pendejo to you, Aguilar. I’ve worked years for that title.For that title, and no more, he reminded himself with a long-buried twinge of resentment, eyes fixed on his Head of Department standing tall before the gathered audience. He knew, logically, that it wasn’t her fault – some decrees were handed down from much higher up, and even Vanya Ravensby was powerless to argue them – and he did adore Harry and knew he was competent (after all, hadn’t he trained him?). Still, the fact remained that he was getting old, and neither Harry nor Ravensby seemed very likely to move on to other opportunities anytime soon – he’d be Senior Auror Drake to his dying day, it seemed. It wasn’t her fault, but couldn’t she have tried a little harder?<p>
Such thoughts were unproductive, and he pushed them from his mind to focus on the task at hand: listening to Ravensby, and scanning the crowd. Victoire had turned up, to his great relief – he’d take any small sign that she was hanging onto her resolve, frustrated as he was at how little he could do for her, both as uncle and Auror. Thorpe was there too, further down the room, looking (as usual) faintly grim. Rowan scratched at his jaw, brow furrowing slightly, wondering whether it would kill the man to look less…well…dire was the only word for it. He didn’t even need a badge; a face like that practically screamed ‘officer of the law’, which was all well and good as long as they weren’t undercover. Rowan made a mental note to never assign Thorpe undercover.<p>
It was then that he caught it – a flash of green at the corner of his eye, unmistakeable. His head snapped up, taking in the sight of one of the Obliviators with his wand outstretched towards the front of the room, and Melloc Crowther toppling to the stone floor, chair and all. Instantly, he was on his feet and surging over the back of the bench in front of him, past Aguilar and down towards the head table. There was a flurry of movement behind him and to the left, and a bolt of red shot past to catch the assassin full in the chest – which was just as well, because Rowan had other things to attend to. The room was packed with Aurors, Unspeakables, and other similarly competent employees – but there was only one Vanya Ravensby, standing right next to the recently-assassinated Minister for Magic and in full view of whatever else might be lurking among the benches. The Obliviator would not escape, that much was certain, and his priority was protecting the Head of the DMLE.<p>
He cleared the last bench and hit the ground metres from the podium, staggering just slightly before regaining his balance (with a few choice words about the integrity of knees past the age of forty) and heading straight for Ravensby. His wand was already out and humming in readiness as he grabbed her arm, pulling her away and down behind the table. Oddball and the rest of them were still milling around, but they could wait – the Ministry would crumble if the DMLE lost its Head. A few seconds was all it took to throw up the necessary wards (in a triangle, always, like Ash had told him was best), Crowther’s prone body staring at him wide-eyed the entire time. Once done, he turned, still crouched, and poked his head cautiously around the edge of the table to check on the situation. The assassin was still down - one of the Aurors would need to see to it soon, because Rowan’s place was right there.<p>
@Adam<p>
@Cassandra (with permissions)<p>
[/dohtml]

This post has been edited by Rowan Drake: Apr 12 2017, 03:23 AM
MESSAGE     EMAIL     
^
Castor Black
 Posted: Apr 14 2017, 03:43 AM
QUOTE     
Kris is Offline
76
posts
43 years old

DIMC Head

UK
Ministry


Castor sat in rigid refinement among the other Department Heads at the front of the room, eyes affixed to the frame of Hepnaught Oddwex as the man addressed the assembly, but his mind occupied elsewhere. Several seats down, Melloc Crowther wilted in an obvious posture of defeat, and from the periphery of his vision, Castor watched in silent disapproval. Neither of them were slated to speak before the conference, but Castor's decision was born of well-considered delegation and the security he found in silence--Crowther simply appeared mute. There was truly nothing more for the man to say, the vibrant idealism he'd swept with him at the beginning of his impromptu term already diminished by the pressing weight of his responsibility. He'd been naive, and now, his impotence was underscored by the death of his vivacity. Where was the man who'd interjected so fervidly during the trial of Bulgraham Greavish? Castor did not agree with such enthusiasm for interference, even if Hingely's overzealous questioning proved inflammatory, but if the man could not even be consistent in his intentions what use could he possibly have? He'd yielded the floor not because he held faith in those around him, but because he'd run out of things to say.

Castor shifted his gaze to follow Ravensby as she assumed the podium. He held his share of disagreements with the manner in which she chose to conduct herself, but he had to respect her dedication. The DMLE had been subjected to a tremendous strain in responding to the unceasing turmoil that plagued their government, but in spite of dwindling forces, Ravensby remained steadfast. In her, leadership was apparent, and Castor allowed himself one, cutting glance in Crowther's direction as the woman began her address. It was as his eyes raked back across the crowd that he caught the shifting of a figure, rising from those amassed. Though he found the movement strange and irksome in its disrespect, it was not until the sudden flashing of a wand wreathed in green that he understood the gesture as aggression. Castor rose from his seat immediately, but he was not swift enough, a figure slipping out of sight below the table even as he moved to stand. He barked a command, drawing his wand through the air in a controlled gesture, and a barrier sprang into place, translucent sheen shimmering between the now fleeing figure and those seated around him. Castor watched the man take flight up the stone steps, expression impossibly cold, but made no move to follow. He had not intended to look away, but the approach of another form set his fingers to tightening around his wand, and it was only recognition of Rowan Drake as the man vaulted himself across a bench that stilled his lips. The Auror secured Ravensby, pulling her to cover, and Castor returned his gaze to the assassin as a quick flash of red brought him to the ground. Only then did he turn to find Melloc Crowther where he'd fallen. The man's eyes were wide, infinitely surprised by his own end; truly spent. How ironic.

The faintest impression of annoyance lingered about the tension in Castor's lips, and he lifted his wand once more, summoning a sheet that fell gently across the dead man's face. The gesture perhaps seemed sentimental, but there was no use for corpses, and the sight of their icon, cold against the floor, would only inspire chaos. It was intolerable. Taking quick stock of the situation: Rowan hovering over Ravensby where they crouched, the shock rippling through the room, the pandemonium that promised to ensue if something was not done quickly, Castor made his choice. Duty beckoned someone to lead. Directing his wand to the side of his throat, he cast a quick Sonorous, the spell amplifying his voice as he began to speak.

"There will be order. Do not move from your seats. Any person without Auror clearance who remains standing will be restrained. No one leaves this room."

@Cassandra @Merel @Juni @Jaz @Jaja @Adam @Pepper @Drakky @Iggy @Lyla @Murtagh
MESSAGE     EMAIL     
^
Vanya Ravensby
 Posted: Apr 16 2017, 08:10 PM
QUOTE     
Cassandra is Offline
40
posts
68 years old

DMLE Head

Ministry of Magic
Ministry


She hadn’t even made it to the end of her speech about increased security at the Ministry before security was breached. She hadn’t even finished describing how much safer everyone would be with new protocol before everything was decidedly unsafe. With her wand already at her throat, Vanya quickly turned the instrument of red oak toward the man who had hit Crowther. It was too late for Crowther, but hardly too late for her department to regain control of this situation.

Rowan, the great lovable idiot, was already half over the back of the bench in front of him on his way to her. She watched him run toward her, and trusted him completely, allowing herself to be pulled down behind the table. “Your knees bothering you? Speak for yourself about old age, Drake.” she muttered, dusting herself off with a frown and turning her gaze down toward poor Crowther so there would be no chance he’d see the pride in her eyes. Angry that this should happen on her watch (and it was on her watch), Vanya rose, clapping a hand on Rowan’s shoulder once she saw whoever the bloody hell that was stun the assassin. She would make it a point to find out--the boy had excellent reflexes, or else he was lucky. Every now and then, a person needed a little of both. “That was the right call, Drake.” she assured him, low and stern as if she had expected no less from him. In truth she hadn’t. Rowan was skilled, experienced, and talented, and he deserved more than she had given him. Where the hell was Potter, for instance?

Castor Black spoke then, covering Crowther and directing traffic as he was made to do. The man was severe, but good at his job. He was still much younger than he knew, hovering somewhere around his younger forties, but that only spoke to what he would accomplish with many more years of experience. Vanya waited for him to finish his sentence before she moved to direct her Aurors, without the use of her wand this time for an amplifying charm. Her wand was required to remain on guard. “Weasley! Thorpe!” she commanded, her voice as sharply punctuated as if she had clapped her hands together after each name, “I want him disarmed, bound, and searched immediately.”

She turned to her Chief of Magical Law Enforcement patrols and remaining Aurors--except Drake, who had frankly been a little shithead this month and was not leaving her sight--and directed them accordingly. “All exits to the Ministry need to be secured immediately. You will work in pairs. You two, get to Transportation and tell them to restrict the Floo. Now. We are on lockdown until I lift it. Personally.”

Turning to Rowan, Vanya leaned in, gripping his upper arm to pull the tall man closer so she could speak to him quietly. “You know what needs to happen. Start getting department heads to our safe rooms. I’m going last. No arguing.” She paused, and met his eyes with a look that told him he would be purchasing no leeway for nonsense today. “Assign someone else or do it yourself, but get it done. Quietly, Drake. I want you with Weasley and Thorpe as soon as possible.”

@Merel @Juni @Jaz @Jaja @Adam @Pepper @Drakky @Iggy @Lyla @Murtagh @Kris @Jess @Mica
MESSAGE     
^
Ramona Bartleby
 Posted: Apr 17 2017, 08:28 PM
QUOTE     
Jill is Offline
16
posts
28 years old

Secretary to C. Black

London, England
Ministry


Romy would be among the first to complain about how this month had been complete and utter hell for everyone working inside the Ministry of Magic, if only she had the guts to complain about the job she maintained a love hate relationship. Sure, she whined to her friends - the American ones that would never even know who to mention her complaining to, let alone sell her out - but she managed to keep the disdain for her mundane and unskilled job under wraps by pasting a smile on her face and offering everyone generally chipper greetings.

Yet even her chipperness in the past month had been waning as the days dragged on. Protesters, concerned individuals, and random reporters bogged down her commute through the Atrium, sometimes asking invasive questions in hope of getting a comment from someone that might be in the know, though she had little actual knowledge of the ongoings of the Ministry. And, okay. She understood the sentiment radiating off of the near-constant visitors they had this month, starting with the crash of the Hogwarts Express and the impenetrable force around the school and nearby village to sightings and murmurings of Grindewald's return to the attack on the Ministry. She didn't personally know anyone affected by the events that transpired at Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, but she empathized. However, she did know those affected by the attack on her workplace, though she had managed to escape that unharmed. Yet she had no helpful knowledge that would make her worth bothering, but that didn't stop her from being accosted as she attempted to reach her job. It was draining, as one could imagine, and she, too, wanted answers and information.

Which was why she was attending the staff meeting in the first place, though it soon became apparent that perhaps she should have stayed in her safe, cozy little office where the worst thing to happen to her was the ascension of Castor Black to the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation just as she was getting her bearings around his predecessor.

For all intents and purposes, she probably wasn't needed at this meeting. Ms. Ramona Caroline Bartleby was not what one would consider essential to the Ministry of Magic, and she would be the first to admit that. However, she did fancy herself essential to her department, to making sure things ran smoothly. She also fancied that she was getting to know Mr. Black well enough to predict his needs, which she could only assume included a transcription and summary of the proceedings.

Therefore, she was sitting in the back of the meeting hall with two pieces of parchments and two quills. One quill was self-writing, which she would be using to transcribe the proceedings, and the other she would be using herself to take notes on what she considered important.

Yet while the quill transcribed the dictation of Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Romy didn't have the opportunity to even write any of her own notes before it all went to hell. Looking mostly at her parchment, she almost didn't notice the flash of green until someone was shouting Grindewald's slogan and more spells were flying. Her first instinct was, naturally, of herself, and her quills and parchment fell to the floor as she started sifting through her purse for her wand. She may not be the best fighter, and she may have been isolated by youth and distance from the last wizarding war this country had seen, but she was able to defend herself if necessary. "Wand, wand. Someone's dead, need my wand," she muttered under her breath, sifting through the deceptively sized bag for the piece of wood that was her only weapon.

Her fingers curled around the wand as she found it and hastily yanked it from her bag, spilling something inside that she was sure would be a bitch to clean up when she got around to it. Yet at least she had her wand, at least she could protect herself if necessary. Though hopefully it wouldn't be necessary, as she heard a familiar voice echoing around the chamber. Listening to Castor Black was second nature despite her reservations regarding the man. She could sit still and look pretty and follow directions. Okay, maybe not perfectly still as her knee was bouncing up and down in anticipation of something more happening, but she wasn't standing. She was following directions and watching Aurors and others from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement spring into action.

Romy was fine. She could do this. All she had to do was stay seated and wait to lose it until she was cleared to leave and had time alone.

Mentions of Castor @Kris
MESSAGE     
^
0 User(s) are reading this topic (0 Guests and 0 Anonymous Users)
0 Members:

OPTIONSPages: (2) 1 2  C L O S E DTOPIC      POLL 


 


 

RPG-D Expecto Patronum  photo banner.gif War Is Brewing FIDELIUS

Wizarding Warfare Ilvermorny  Fidelius Relashio! Pumpkin Juice

ACTA INCREDIBLE SURFACE LIES NickPicHost

skin made by miss texas at caution, cc, & shine