RATIOS

GRYFFINDOR
15
HUFFLEPUFF
11
RAVENCLAW
16
SLYTHERIN
10
HOGWARTS
14
MINISTRY
21
MAGICAL
19
MUGGLE
1
FEMALES
47
MALES
60
NONBINARY
1
TOTAL
108

NEEDED: CANONS, PROFESSORS, SLYTHERINS, HOGSMEADEANS

MARCH 2021

S
M
T
W
T
F
S
5
6
11
13
15
16
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
NEWS

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!
06.17 - March update is here!
06.10 - February OTM submissions are here!
06.01 - updates and surveys here!
05.08 - updates and reminders here!
05.02 - quidditch update 2.5 here!



MARCH 2021
A convergence approaches. Forces in opposition begin their final journey toward impact. The world tilts and there is no hope to stop it now. Brace for collision. Watch these boundaries shatter.
MARCH 1ST-17TH NOW OPEN

Pages: (2) 1 2  ( Go to first unread post ) REPLY     TOPIC      POLL 

» 04 Mar 2021 | Doesn't Matter If We've Gone Too Far, Open
NPC
 Posted: Jun 17 2017, 08:39 PM
QUOTE     
NPC is Offline
8
posts
- years old

-

-
Wizarding World


The security measures, to anyone entering the Ministry the morning of the fourth, are noticeably heightened. In the atrium of the building, law enforcement stand guard, stationed beside points of entry and exit, keeping a stern and watchful eye on passersby. There are interdepartmental meetings on the day's agenda, and no one has yet forgotten what transpired at the last of these. Down on Level Ten, employees are gathering for the first of these meetings. It is the earliest in a series of three, each held back to back with a short break in between, each to be conducted in the same fashion as the one before. The issue on the table: the recent update to Ministry protocol regarding the International Statute of Secrecy.

It can only be assumed that the thought behind repeating the same meeting three times over--effectively breaking up all Ministry personnel into three small groups of attendees--is to decrease the chances of another disaster. The official word is that the meetings have been organized to "offer employees a chance to choose which time-slot is least disruptive to their schedule." Regardless, it is obvious how carefully the meeting is being conducted from the moment staff step out of the elevator onto Level Ten. Security officers are waiting outside the door to Courtroom Four, a smaller room than it's neighbor Number Three, but with far less relationship to previously assassinated Ministers. Each entrant is screened for curses or alterations to their appearance, each wand checked to ensure proper registration. As the last of the morning's attendees file in, followed closely by a selection of the security from the hall beyond, a small, nervous looking man enters from a door at the front of the room, shuffling over to a podium and regarding the group.

"Good morning," he begins, sweat visible upon his brow, voice anxious. "Would all please be seated. We ask for the duration of this assembly, all personnel remain seated. If you have reason to leave, please attract the attention of a security officer and wait for approval. Can't...be too careful." He lets out a nervous laugh, checking to ensure that everyone in the room has settled, before nodding to an officer standing near the door at the front of the room. The officer opens the door, and a selection of high ranking personnel file in, flanked by Aurors. There are Heads of Department among the group, though only a portion are present, but the face of greatest note is Wizengamot Secretary of Internal Affairs Albertemia Hingely. She passes barely a glance across the faces in the crowd, strolling confidently over to assume a seat at the table at the front of the room.

"Now that we are all assembled, I, Hepnaught Oddwex, shall begin proceedings for the discussion of Legal Notice 113/21, which affects all Ministry personnel and citizens of Britain, magical and non-magical, as of the first of this month, and which shall be enforced and regulated by all members of Ministry staff as agreed upon by acceptance of this document." He raises a paper from the podium, indicating the memo sent out on the first. "Are there any present who have not received these instructions or who otherwise feel incapable of following the instructions lain out herein?"

@Murtagh @Drakky @Jaz @Matt @Juni @Merel @Natalie @Alea @Pepper @Adam @Jaja @Kris @Jess @Cassandra @Jill @Dusty @Julie
MESSAGE     EMAIL     
^
Ramona Bartleby
 Posted: Jun 18 2017, 04:25 PM
QUOTE     
Jill is Offline
8
posts
28 years old

Secretary to C. Black

London, England
Ministry


Ramona could understand and appreciate the need for heightened security throughout the Ministry of Magic. Did she like it? Of course not. Did she want to see another person die? Definitely not. So she sucked it up as she made her way to Level Ten for the first of what she assumed were going to be three nearly identical interdepartmental meetings. And, while she only needed to attend one, she had a feeling that the bossman was going to want minutes from a trusted source for all three of the meetings.

Plus, she supposed, it would be interesting to hear what others in the Ministry had to say about the new laws the Chief Warlock put into effect. Romy, for one, knew it was bad news. If anyone involved in making the laws or anyone who supported the laws knew anything about American history, they would know how detrimental such laws could be. Now, Romy would argue until she was blue in the face that Ilvermory is, was, and would always be the best wizarding school in the world; however, there was no denying that magical advancements in America had declined in power for the duration of Rappaport's Law. In addition to families being torn apart by such archaic rules, magical innovation hadn't kept up with Europe and other developed areas, probably because the magical community didn't see Muggle innovations and try to come up with a suitable magical counterpart. Personally, Romy wasn't all that concerned with the innovation aspect, but being completely prohibited from Muggle interaction was a ridiculous notion. How would she go shopping!? After all, she had heard stories from aunts and uncles - or perhaps great-aunts and great-uncles - whose families had suffered from interactions with Muggles during times when such interactions were illegal.

If any of the meetings offered the opportunity to express opinions of the new laws, Romy would have no hesitation to voice her disdain. In the meantime, she might as well observe the reactions of her colleagues if she was going to be stuck at these meetings.

Ramona held back complaints as she was screened and searched and her wand checked over to verify she was who she said she was. Without a word to any of the security personnel that were given their fair shares of dirty looks, Romy made her way to a seat in the middle of the courtroom. She was close enough that she would able to clearly hear everything that was said, but far enough away that her facial expressions would hopefully not be noticed by those who were in charge of the meeting. She pulled out her parchment and quill so as to be ready for taking her notes when things got underway, watching as everybody made their way in.

The proceedings began with a hint of hesitancy, an uncomfortable reminder of what had happened the last time there was such a gathering. The rules were annoying, but she could understand the necessity as some of the Department Heads filed in. Not all of them were there, presumably because they would be present at one of the other meetings. After all, if something did manage to happen at this one, it would be wise to have only a portion of the department heads present. In American politics, it was referred to as the Designated Survivor. A part of Romy wondered if that was the thought of only having a few show up at this meeting, or if the others just hadn't been able to fit this meeting into their respective schedules.

Still paying attention to the proceedings as discussion of the new law began, Romy leaned to her side and whispered, "What do you think of these new rules?"
MESSAGE     
^
Rowan Drake
 Posted: Jun 20 2017, 11:27 AM
QUOTE     
Drakky is Offline
152
posts
51 years old

Senior Auror

London
Ministry


There was a sense of inevitability lingering about Rowan’s return to the Ministry. He stepped through the same fireplace onto the same floor and glanced up at the same impossibly high ceiling, strung with lights from softly glittering windows all the way up to Level One. It was as if he’d never left. Despite the security measures, despite the turmoil of the world, the Atrium still heaved with life in every corner. People milled to and fro, intermittent flashes of Floo-fire illuminating everything momentarily green; the same low early-morning murmur buzzed in his ears, albeit perhaps a bit tight with tension under the ever-watchful eyes of the scattered guards. The constancy of this place had buoyed him through the very worst of what they’d all experienced over the past months; it had not changed when the wolves had attacked his niece and not a single stone had shivered out of place when the Hogwarts Express had crashed - not even the black explosion right in the heart of the Atrium had been enough to alter the heavy foundations of government. It was easy to find comfort in that permanence when the world was rocked by diffuse tragedy – but this time the tragedy was Rowan’s alone, and he desperately wanted the walls and the fountain and the breath-taking arches to crumble right along with him.

The journey up to Level Two had been jarring in its familiarity – nothing different, except Rowan himself. He no longer quite matched the rhythm of the Ministry, could not fall effortlessly back to work and pretend that he belonged there, at that desk, carrying that badge. Two years could not have diminished the extent of his failure, let alone two weeks…but he only needed to pretend a little while longer. Just until they brought the barrier down. He had to be at Hogwarts to discharge his final duties towards Ash, and the Ministry offered him the fastest route. After that, there would be nothing left to keep him there – it would no longer be his fight.

Until then, however, his obligations remained, and he would fulfil them to the best of his abilities; better, even, than he had before, because if he cared about nothing there could be nothing to impede him. Which was why, once he’d put his desk in order and made some sort of sense of the tower of files stacked in his in-tray, Rowan had made his way down to Level Ten to man the first of the day’s interdepartmental meetings – after last month’s disaster, the leadership of the Ministry was apparently unanimous in its desire for an Auror presence wherever Heads of Department gathered. Privately, he doubted the likelihood of another assassination, particularly so soon after the first – their enemies, diffuse and unidentified though they were, had not yet struck twice in precisely the same way – but precaution was a necessity, and so he took his place at one side of the Head Table and settled in to observe the audience.

In truth, Rowan was not entirely certain why these meetings were being held at all. The law was what the Wizengamot made it, these days, and said Wizengamot had apparently decided that Muggle interaction was the root cause of all evil. He might have found the situation worrying once, when moral issues were what pushed him out of bed and into the Floo in the mornings, but that time was long since past. Who was he to pontificate on the ethics of segregation from Muggles? Let them do what they would; even had he known any Muggles, he’d have found it very difficult to devote any of his energy to caring.

Besides, there were other things at this meeting which far superseded Legal Notice 113/21 in terms of relevance to Rowan’s existence. Three sentences into Oddball’s speech, his eyes slid slowly to the left and came to rest upon Castor Black, sitting at the Head Table as rigid and stony as ever. Interestingly, Rowan’s…misdemeanour of two weeks ago had not inspired consequences direct or otherwise; while this did not imply anything concrete, nevertheless it was a puzzle that he couldn’t quite abandon. Castor’s reputation was as unassailable as Azkaban itself, and he would not suffer anyone to threaten it…so why had nothing happened? Why hadn’t there been retribution? A warning, surely, at least? He continued watching the other man as Oddball spoke, studying the set of his jaw and taking note of the most miniscule expressions, as though the answers he was missing lay hidden in the lines of Castor’s face.

@Kris (got them snek permissions )


MESSAGE     EMAIL     
^
Cole Lyons
 Posted: Jun 21 2017, 08:45 AM
QUOTE     
Dusty is Offline
8
posts
23 years old

Quidditch Scout

London
Ministry




There was very little that Cole found interesting about life working in the Ministry. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He liked his department, and the people he worked with. He liked the job he got to do when he travelled around the country and up to Scotland. He liked how it was never the same day, and his job title was always evolving. But that was it, outside of his little office, in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, Cole could have done without the Ministry. He hated arriving via floo. He hated having to walk through the grandiose hall to the elevator. And he most certainly hated being forced to attend meetings that he felt really didn’t have anything to do with him.

And while there were whisperings all around the Ministry, and the magical streets of London, Cole didn’t care all that much. His life was Quidditch. Quidditch, his dog, and the few friends he’d made. And while none of those aspects had yet to be affected (besides the slight problematic barrier surrounding Hogwarts for a moment), that could always change in an instant. But they hadn’t been yet, not really, so Cole did not feel the need to pretend to give single fuck about what was happening. And he’d continue living that way until something dramatically changed his view.

But the meeting was not up for discussion. It was made perfectly clear that his presence was required for at least one of the allocated times, and why not get it over with as soon as possible. Which was why Cole found himself strolling into Courtroom Four and taking a seat as far from the front as possible. Easier that way, quickest way out when the meeting had concluded, and it didn’t matter if he struggled to voice his opinion across the room (for the very reason that he wouldn’t be participating at all). The sooner he could get back to Level Seven, the better.

Perhaps the back had not been the ideal spot, his hearing had began to suffer with the weekly trips to rowdy Quidditch games, and the man’s voice was barely audible. It was a strain, but manageable, the guys back at the department would fill him in if he’d missed anything. But he didn’t think there was much to worry about. Cole had read the new notice. Had heard it being discussed around the Entrance Hall to the Ministry, in the elevator, his department.The notice regarding the ban, as it would seem, on all things muggle.

His first thought upon reading it had turned to Lowen, the impact that sort of thing would have on his job and general relationships. Cole had not worried about how he would be affected. Because really it wouldn’t be much at all. He could count on one hand the amount of times he’d run into trouble regarding muggles. And well, it was best to stick to the magical areas anyway. Cole remained silent when Oddwex questioned the audience, which was really how he planned on remaining throughout the meeting.



This post has been edited by Cole Lyons: Jun 21 2017, 08:45 AM
MESSAGE     
^
Arundhati Craven
 Posted: Jun 21 2017, 09:52 AM
QUOTE     
Julie is Offline
5
posts
21 years old

Beast Division

London
Ministry


This was bollocks! No not the massive amount of security that was now involved with these stupid meetings. That Arundhati understood of course. After what happened at the last one of these she was taking as few chances as possible. Really it was amazing this entire thing was happening at all. Usually it would be, oh this is the new rules and that's the end of it. Though really she thought it probably was, did they really have a choice in this? That, that was the bit that was completely bullocks. These new rules about muggles seemed like a complete over reaction to her. Sure there had been some problems recently but making more rules about it wasn't going to stop the people who really wanted to do harm! It was a giant over step her her opinion, and in any other situation she might have told them off about it. But today was not that day and it was soon made very clear.

Hati gave the security guard a harsh glare as his hand traveled way to close to somewhere they didn't belong. Besides that brief unpleasantness she got through security just fine. It was far to busy for her taste though, she'd much rather be outside doing her real job instead of going to this pointless meeting. Couldn't they just send comment by Owl? It would be just as change inducing.

Not that this rule actually effected Arundhati very much at all. She was a pureblood and even though her job often put her among Muggles she wasn't really friends with any of them. Why be friends with people she couldn't tell about her day? Though they were fun to party with. Muggle drinks were pretty top in her opinion. But still, she felt for all the muggleborns or half bloods who would have to go through this hassle. He had quiet a few friends who would have to deal with this. Just ridiculous!

She made her way through the crowds and slid into an empty seat. It was only then that she thought to look for her father among the throngs. She hadn't seen Mateo but then she had been to far in her own head about everything to look. Oh well, she was fine sitting among the strangers in the crowd. As the meeting started she pulled out a small notebook but no quill. She doubted she'd need notes about this stupidity.

The women whom Hati had taken to sitting next to leaned in asking her opinion softly. A dangerous question in the current climate but she couldn't help but be honest. "I think it's bollocks" She said crossing her legs and hooking her interlaced fingers around her knee. "Whoever organized those breaches obviously doesn't care about the rules" She said shaking her head, her eyes on the speaker before glancing at the other women. "What do you think?" She asked in return.

@Jill

This post has been edited by Arundhati Craven: Jun 21 2017, 06:50 PM
MESSAGE     
^
Connor O'Caroll
 Posted: Jun 21 2017, 08:15 PM
QUOTE     
Natalie is Offline
35
posts
28 years old

DMGS Photographer

United Kingdom
Archived


Connor appreciated the increased insecurity. The last thing he wanted to have was death by a biological pathogen — that was a really Muggle way to die. He had seen this piece of paper placed neatly on his desk in his department and had taken a look at it, frowning at the fate of the Muggleborns. It seems they had the worse of everything here: they risked their family forgetting about them, even after death. There was news about a student's death at Hogwarts and because of the barrier, the task of informing fell to The Ministry. While he did not quite agree with the method, in order to protect their dwindling magical community, Connor knew this was absolutely necessary.

He had found himself seated next to Cole Lyons, a fellow co-worker in the same department as him, except that instead of doing paperwork, he was the one scouting for potential Quidditch talents. He was a friendly guy and easygoing too, making him easy to work with, but considering their department did not have many things to do as compared to the other departments, they had it easier — that fact itself was a blessing.

"They're just asking whether we have any issues with this," Connor explained, dipping into his pocket to pull out the crumpled piece of paper he saw on his desk, handing it over to the Quidditch Scout. He was a man of observation and he knew Lyons had some issues with his hearing, especially if they were too far from the source of the noise, and he figures that it's most likely due to the thunderous rumbling during Quidditch matches. "Just giving you a heads up."

Personally, Connor felt here was some prejudice against Muggles and Muggleborns playing into this bit. I mean, sure, a biological pathogen could have been formulated by both non-magical and magical folk, but it seemed that magical folk never liked to blame themselves. Still, he had very mixed feelings about the entire thing.


TAGGED //@Dusty
NOTES // Hope it's good.
MESSAGE     
^
Castor Black
 Posted: Jun 22 2017, 11:20 AM
QUOTE     
Kris is Offline
42
posts
42 years old

DIMC Head

UK
Ministry


If the Wizengamot had been a singular person this insistent on testing his patience, Castor would have seen them expelled from his government long ago. The memo that had deposited itself on his desk with the coming of the first of the month had proven an irritation of the highest order, merely compounded by the news of the council's neglect of the Muggle Prime Minister in the next day's paper. To make matters even worse, Aeronwen Nott seemed to have wormed her way into their midst, vying for an ear in which to plant her seeds of dissent. Had he not already seen with his own eyes just how far the High Court had fallen, he would not have believed her capable of causing any significant disruption, but the evidence was there. Signs of blight were blooming across the parchments on which their legislation was written, flowering sickness and rot and spreading corruption. He could not have been more disappointed in the council with which he'd once worked--uncovering individual failures with each new exposure of the ineptitude of the whole--nor more agitated to find himself seated in a room with Chairwoman Albertemia Hingely.

There would undoubtedly be other chair-members of the Wizengamot attending the later meetings of the day, divided in the same way the Department Heads had been split between the three time slots, but for now, hers was the face of this new mandate and therefore the target of his disdain. He filed in behind her, taking his seat at the same table, resenting the proximity and the way his position at the forefront looked like some kind of approval. He was a leader within the government, one of its many faces, and the laws it passed down he would both follow and enforce, but that did not mean they'd garnered his personal support. This frivolous change; this was what the council had been dedicating their time to, penning something shining and new to detract from just how slovenly they'd become. They had no idea what they were doing, had no idea how to run this new iteration of government which had continued to develop around them in the 300 years since they'd ceased to be the Wizard's Council and assumed their lesser role as a singular branch of the body as opposed to its head. Withdrawing from the world around them would do nothing to save them, and in point of fact, such a method could not work without altering the lesser operations of each department. Perhaps if they'd indicated it as another emergency proceeding, a chance to hold the community in stasis while they gathered information and got their bearings, but this time, no such claim had been made and he could not help but cast his suspicion over their entire grab for power. The situation was escalating.

Castor sat rigid at the table, eyes fixed on Oddwex as the man began his address of the chamber, his respect for the councilor decidedly in the red. His gaze did not linger there long, moving instead around those assembled, careful to keep from grabbing the attention of any one eye. He made note of his secretary as he went, brow quirking critically as he caught her lean in to talk with the woman next to her. Such minuscule twitches seemed harder contain these days, the constant tension in his muscles far more sensitive to the rough shifting of his moods. It was a slight change, hardly worthy of notice, but the fact that he could feel it at all was enough to increase his agitation, and that was exceedingly high as it was. He felt stretched taught, hair-thin and ready to snap, keeping himself together by sheer force of will. It was fortunate he had plenty of it, but in such a state each passing wind, each minor intolerability, came over him with a sense of amplification, grating ever more on the place inside of him that had already begun to wear so thin. Perhaps it was this heightened tension, this increase in sensitivity, that drew his attention so sharply to the sensation of being watched. It was like fingers creeping over him, light touches as soft as whispering spiders legs climbing the back of his neck and moving across his scalp. There were eyes on him, and before he ever turned to look, he knew exactly who they belonged to.

Rowan Drake's presence had been an abrupt surprise that morning, but Castor had not shown it. Gathering in the antechamber, waiting for the meeting to begin, he'd discovered the man. It had been more than two weeks since he'd so much as seen his face wandering the halls, a fact he could not determine as regular or strange no matter how long he thought on it. He had no scale for gauging how often the Auror crossed his path, had never given it that much attention before, yet it was now a question prominent in his mind. He'd gone so far as to wonder if the man had quit, a conclusion which did not seem illogical given his veritable implosion when last they'd...spoken, but there he was as though he'd never left, as though nothing had changed, and in recognition of this, Castor had promptly ignored his presence, facing the door to the courtroom to patiently wait for his seat and concentrating instead on Hingely's offensive proximity. Such indifference had now been rendered impossible. The gaze that touched him could only belong to Rowan, and in one short, slow movement, he turned to find him, eyes shifting sideways in their sockets and catching on the intensity of his stare.

More than forty years of life had he lived, yet Castor now found his existence narrowed to the span of six collected, indecorous seconds: three spent frozen in an all-consuming kiss and three now spent caught up against a look that traveled across him in his entirety. Castor met that gaze, immediately locking up in his shock, paralyzed by just how wrong Rowan's eyes still appeared, as though some vibrant light had been snuffed from their depths. They'd seemed just as empty when last he'd caught sight of them, brought suddenly and startlingly close, but even then they had not pierced him so thoroughly as now. His face felt suddenly warm, mouth alive with the passage of his own breath as his lips parted slightly. Don't look. The thought crossed his mind even as his gaze betrayed him, slipping down the barest inch to find Rowan's mouth, tracing its lines for the briefest instant before he caught himself in a blink and turned away again. He'd broken first, but it would have been far worse to continue looking, and he resumed his relentless focus on Oddwex's back, jaw tight and glare hard. His fingers curled against the table as a thrill of fear traveled up his spine. Somewhere deep inside him, the thin thread of his self-control stretched a little tighter, creaking with strain.

@Drakky
MESSAGE     EMAIL     
^
Lance Westwell-Lamora
 Posted: Jun 25 2017, 02:21 AM
QUOTE     
Pepper is Offline
37
posts
45 years old

Improper Magic Office

London
Ministry


If Lance hadn't been in a state of being so focused on his work for the past few weeks, he didn’t think he would have been able to keep up with everything that was going on. The Task Force, while a lot of work on top of his usual duties in his job, was good for keeping him busy and making him feel like they were really doing something to try and combat the situation involving the barrier. It was taking time to figure things out, to map out the barrier and try to come to some kind of conclusion about the location of the artefact as quickly as possible, but at the end of the day they were getting there. The more he threw himself into his work, the quicker they might be able to bring the barrier down, and the sooner he could get to Dexter and get him freed from the control placed on him. He’d hated the idea of the Imperious Curse even before all of this, and frankly now he found it nothing short of abhorrent. He tried not to think about how easily Dexter could be convinced to do literally anything in the village, to anyone and himself; but those thoughts often crept back to him in sleepless nights when he had nothing left to distract himself with.

Today’s distraction, however, had come in the form of a new meeting to discuss the new legislation. They’d clearly cranked up the security for this meeting; even more so than the initial Task Force meeting where there had been wand checks and such. This time, law enforcement were lingering wherever you looked, and that didn’t change on the way down to the courtrooms. If he was honest he couldn’t really say he minded; the last thing they needed right then was another assassination. They’d only barely recovered from losing the Minister, and even then not everything was running quite so smoothly as it should. They’d even changed the room to the one next door, as if Courtroom Three was now cursed and no meetings could be held there without someone perishing. A little superstitious, perhaps, but Lance saw it as giving themselves all the defence they ideally could.

Courtroom Four was a little smaller but still perfectly appropriate, and as Oddwex called the meeting to begin, Lance settled more comfortably in his chair and listened attentively. He was in two minds about the new legislation, if he was honest. The Statute itself was heavily linked to his job and he’d spent a good portion of his life protecting it, and he honestly did believe in its necessity. Humans, both Wizarding and muggle, had a terrible history of hating anyone different to themselves in any way, and he didn’t like the idea of what would happen if the two communities were suddenly incredibly aware of each other. On the other side to that, however, the new legislations seemed incredibly forceful and strict. There were even a few points he could potentially get behind, but he couldn’t really agree with the ones involving obliviating muggle parents whose children had just died, or parents of muggleborns were no longer allowed in Diagon Alley or to speak to practically anyone else in the Wizarding community. He could already picture people protesting against this; there were enough protests against the Statute as it was already.

A few people around were muttering to their neighbours, but Lance kept quiet, gazed focused on the man holding the meeting. He didn’t feel ‘incapable of following the instruction’ at least; had he been younger and this whole thing threatened his ability to visit his grandparents, then perhaps. But they had died a few years ago now, and were the only muggle relatives he had left, so there was no risk there. He doubted, even with this meeting, anything could be changed about the legislation. They could talk all they wanted, but it was already ready to be enforced, and he would be shocked if anything changed about them, following this meeting.
MESSAGE     
^
Helios Craven
 Posted: Jun 25 2017, 02:53 PM
QUOTE     
Jaja is Offline
22
posts
51 years old

MLE Patrol

London
Ministry


It was unusual for Helios to feel what he could recognise to be anxiety. It was something he associated with his far younger self, before long years of practice of shedding all that was unnecessary, learning to stop fighting useless battles, or fretting about anything he couldn't control - he was a walking serenity prayer. But this was something he had at least a modicum of control over, and the fret and anxiety was merely cowardice. He was afraid to step into this firing line. It hadn't taken Hati very long to talk him down from the idea of sending his memo of instructions of three days ago back to the Undersecretary to show his lack of compliance. Which was partly because it was an idiotic idea - he would have been sacked on the spot, or worse, who knew these days. And he was no use to anyone fired. It was all too heart-breakingly, gut-churningly familiar. He had done just enough to keep his job in the last war (when had he started referring to this as a war?), and yes hoped he had contributed to lives being saved, but how many more might have been if every man and woman with the power to fight Voldemort had downed tools and stopped faking compliance? It was the same problem as ever - who can I trust? What if I'm the only one?

Surveillance and infiltration would always be the more effective tool of subjugation than force and aggression. He could not be the only one who found this outright, cut-and-dried fascism. But he was being careful - Hati was the only one he had spoken his mind to. He would never have doubted Westwell, if course, but nor was he about to talk about this on the Ministry premises. And so, keeping almost entirely his own council on this, he had no one else's judgement to consider. Hati was onside, but she was young, and a hothead, and possibly even still young enough to subconsciously assume nothing terrible could happen to him. Nonetheless, even if he was not going to speak his mind as such, he wanted them to at least have to explain themselves.

No one spoke when Oddwex finished, but there was the very faint rustle of private discussion around him. He took a breath. Normally, in a meeting of this kind, he’d stand in order to be seen by the person chairing it, and it felt strange to keep his seat, raising his voice just a little to compensate "Helios Craven, Law Enforcement Patrol Captain. I have concerns about the enforceability of some aspects of this, which I'm sure you can assuage. For example, Muggleborn children returning home during holidays. Are they to be confined to their home for the entirety of these periods, to prevent contact with anyone but the parents? And provided underage magic isn’t performed, how is the Ministry to know regulations like these are being breached?" He stopped there, as there was a risk of a note of anger creeping into his formal, bland workplace tone. He'd thought of many examples of why this madness was completely untraceable and thus unenforceable, but he'd chosen this one as the idea of Muggle children policed so cruelly must have been as unpalatable to others as it was to himself.

@NPC

This post has been edited by Helios Craven: Jul 2 2017, 04:30 PM
MESSAGE     
^
Malcolm Winters
 Posted: Jun 25 2017, 05:07 PM
QUOTE     
Adam is Offline
4
posts
62 years old

Unspeakable

London
Ministry


He was seething. Malcolm had been in a state of fury ever since he'd received that damn memo, quietly simmering with barely-controlled rage that only worsened every time he thought about it. He had been floating for the past several days through the Ministry like a black cloud, his discontent obvious to anyone who looked at him. He had been at the Ministry for a long time, had lived through both of the Wizarding Wars, and so he felt deeply that this legal notice was an offence of the most egregious sort. Was there nothing learned from history? Did they not teach these things in school anymore?

It had been his firm belief, ever since the first war, that there was no real reason for the Muggle and magical worlds to be as separate as they were. When he had left Hogwarts, he had rejected his pureblood family and hid among the Muggle world, forgoing magic so that he might be safe with his Muggleborn wife. To this day, he was still very close to his wife's family -- her siblings, their children, Muggles every single one of them but none technically his immediate family. This rule was garbage, not only in principle but also for its practical effect of cutting him off from people who had always been there for him, more so than anyone in his pureblood lineage.

The kicker was that, like before, there was no discernible reason for this rule. It seemed particularly harsh, putting more work on the Obliviators and severing families left and right, for no other reason than an arbitrary importance placed on having magic or not having magic. Maybe he was getting too old for this, but Malcolm had never seen anything so blatantly idiotic in his entire life. And the seeming unilateral decisionmaking at hand -- had this even been discussed? Who was this coming from? He nearly snorted out loud when Oddwex asked the gathered crowd if anyone felt they couldn't adhere to the new rules.

"I haven't agreed to anything," he snarled, not caring who heard him. Damn the consequences -- he would not let this ridiculousness compromise his sense of morality. Craven, at least, seemed to have the sense to question the logistics of such an absurd policy. Malcolm folded his arms over his chest, settling back in his seat, anger still creasing his brow. After Craven had finished speaking, Malcolm piped up without bothering to stand on ceremony, raising his voice to be heard properly.

"And, based off that -- Malcolm Winters, Unspeakable -- what right does anyone in the Ministry have to rip apart families of people who have done nothing wrong? Are we really going to accept treating our own people as criminals just for having relatives? What exactly is it that you're all so afraid of?" And, he wanted to say, what the bloody hell was wrong with their supposed leadership that they thought such a policy was acceptable? His anger was plain, but he held his tongue at least a little bit in check. Consequences didn't matter to him -- he had no patience for any institution that thought such behavior was acceptable.

@NPC @Jaja (Helios mentions)
MESSAGE     
^
Easton Eldridge
 Posted: Jun 25 2017, 05:52 PM
QUOTE     
Alea is Offline
11
posts
33 years old

Improper Use of Magic

England
Ministry


Easton hadn't had a lot of time to process everything. Of course he knew of all the turmoil, of all the recent events, of all the terrible things that had occurred since the beginning of the year. But his own personal life had been distracting enough on its own and in the month or so that had passed since he'd met with Dragonsby, he'd been so determined to show her that he could do better and that he deserved the position he held. Everything else had just sort of fallen to the side. His whole life had become this sort of cycle of eat, sleep, work. It probably wasn't the healthiest and he certainly wasn't in the best mental shape of his life, but there was no denying that his work performance had improved.

Which was why it was a little bit annoying that he had to attend the scheduled meeting. He'd read the pamphlet, he knew what the rules said. It wasn't his department, not really. I mean, he did work in magical law enforcement, but unless someone was performing magic in front of muggles or muggle baiting, the muggle intermingling laws didn't have much to do with him. He didn't know any muggles outside of occasionally going out for lunch in muggle London and even if he did, he didn't have the time or energy for socializing anymore. He was going to miss his lunches, but it was probably better that he eat in the office anyway. Less time for distractions.

In the rare moments that he wasn't working, Easton had taken it upon himself to research any information that might prove valuable in the current climate. He'd done a handful of reading about the precedent of council rule and he'd done some research on enforcement of the ISS in various countries around the world. It was interesting and he'd always liked research. In fact, if he couldn't be working on his paperwork or other aspects of his actual job, he'd still much rather be doing his reading than sitting here listening to his coworkers debate. There was no choice, though. He had to attend one of the meetings so he'd attend with Lance. At least then he wouldn't be bored and alone.

Once he made his way through security - a necessary annoyance in itself - he settled into a seat next to Lance, resting a hand on the older man's shoulder for just a moment in a quiet show of solidarity. Even if Easton hadn't had much time to really process everything, he knew Lance had faced plenty of his own personal difficulties lately. He couldn't be oblivious to that. The man had seen Easton threw so much over the years, it was only fitting that he do the same. What help he could provide, Easton didn't know, but he'd do whatever was in his power.

He sat in silence, an old leather book sat held tight against his stomach. Along the spine, in faded letters, the title read Secrecy and Concealment; Global Enforcement of the International Statute. The chapter that he'd been in the middle of when time came to head down to the 10th floor had contained an interesting passage about wandless magic and he was eager to get back to it. The anger in the voices of his coworkers made him uncomfortable. More conflict was the last thing any of them needed, wasn't it?

@Pepper
MESSAGE     
^
NPC
 Posted: Jun 28 2017, 07:09 PM
QUOTE     
NPC is Offline
8
posts
- years old

-

-
Wizarding World


There is a rustling of conversation about the room as Oddwex finishes his address, and the counselor scans the crowd in apprehension, as though awaiting a sea of protest. The sound of a derisive snort from within the crowd seems to startle him, and he flinches as the scornful words "I haven't agreed to anything" float through the assembly.

"Sir, if we could all, ahem, please remain relaxed," Oddwex says in response to the outburst, eyes roving the general area from which the voice emerged, not entirely certain of the identity of the speaker. His eyes flicker to Craven as the man speaks, taking in his question. "Haha! Yes, well. I can hardly answer the question of how to prevent persons from breaking the law absolutely! I do believe that would be more a matter for your Department Head. Ah. Not. Now, of course. Best to save that for DMLE meetings and all. As far as the children are concerned we certainly have no wish to isolate them. This legislation should do nothing more than...encourage those communities we already have! To the degree that it is necessary, wizards shall be permitted access to Muggle sectors, as in the case of fulfilling work duties, and this is the same for the underage. Minors, of course, have limited control in regulating their environments. But if we impress upon our young ones at an early age the value of secrecy, it can only help to secure them in the long run. For the time being we shall simply do our best to educate them under the guardianship of their Muggle parentage that they might remove themselves from Muggle communities as they come of age. Erm..."

Oddwex hesitates as Winters speaks again, his eyes finding the man in the crowd and realizing him as the initial voice of dissent. "Let's not be rash in our judgments, now. This isn't a matter of oppression, but state security. Our community has, em..." Oddwex's palms rise from the podium in a gesture of subconscious supplication as he fumbles with the question for a moment, but before he can continue, a cool voice cuts him off. From the table at the head of the room, reclining with a relaxed sort of boredom written across her features, Hingely speaks.

"Mister Winters, if you would kindly calm yourself. We are a meeting of professionals, not revolutionaries. Let us behave as such. Believe that we feel deeply the difficulties this will impress upon families of mixed heritage, but surely you cannot deny the dangers that have arisen in recent months. Our communities are under attack, sir, on a global scale. Is that not enough for you to find frightening? It is always unfortunate when the actions of the few dictate the actions of the many, but we cannot continue to be so vulnerable. These measures will only help us to tighten security across Britain in the interest of preserving our families against terrorism. Surely you can withstand a little distance from cousins thrice removed for the good of the health and well-being of your fellow countrymen?"

@Alea @Adam @Jaja @Pepper @Kris @Natalie @Julie @Dusty @Drakky @Jill
MESSAGE     EMAIL     
^
Ramona Bartleby
 Posted: Jun 29 2017, 08:05 PM
QUOTE     
Jill is Offline
8
posts
28 years old

Secretary to C. Black

London, England
Ministry


Ramona was both listening to Oddball - or whatever his name was - and the vaguely familiar (as in, Romy had obviously seen her about the Ministry but knew nothing else about her, not even her name) woman that she had posed her question to. They were still doing preliminary stuff, so Oddball didn't really matter at the moment. Right now, she assumed it was more important for her to gather information about how others were feeling about the new rules.

She was glad the woman next to her seemed to agree with Ramona's sentiment. "I agree," she muttered back. While she had managed to pick up some London into her accent, it was still primarily Bostonian and very clearly American. "Besides, I know how this ends, and that's with the rest of the world thinking the country's barbaric and our people falling behind the rest of the world in almost everything," she added with a simple shrug. Her history books taught her that was what had happened in America a century ago and, despite having the top wizarding school in the world, was only just truly catching up.

She managed to finish her statement just her colleagues began posing questions for Oddball to answer. Chocolate eyes shifted toward the two men that had asked the questions, paraphrasing what they had to say in her notes. They made good points, points that Ramona entirely agreed with. Particularly Winters. It was exactly why European wizards found the exact same laws in America barbaric, and that was over a hundred years ago. What did it say about Wizengamont that they thought something so backwards was a good idea?

Of course, Ramona wasn't going to mention that, not until she had to. She liked her job, thank you very much, though she could do without Cassie being so...well...Castor, which was literally the only adjective she had to describe the boss man. If others were going to make her points for her, there was no reason for her to risk pissing of the powers that be and losing her job.

Romy jotted down notes on Oddball's answer, not even bothering to hide the snort she let out when the man said it wasn't a matter of oppression. That was exactly what it was; the people that wrote those laws were no different than Voldemort in her mind. And the self-righteous fear-mongering in response to Malcom's question earned a not-so-discreet eyeroll as she continued to take her notes.

Merlin, how was she going to sit through three meetings full of this nonsense and take proper notes on the outcomes? Romy wasn't sure if she could handle two more of these meetings if the first one pretty much immediately turned ridiculous and unbelievable.

@Julie
MESSAGE     
^
Rodger Thorpe
 Posted: Jun 29 2017, 10:10 PM
QUOTE     
Jaz is Offline
18
posts
43 years old

Auror

United Kingdom
Ministry


This was ridiculous. This whole damn thing, the memo, the statute of secrecy, it was all ridiculous. Sure, they'd always had the statute, since the dawn of time, practically. It had always been a part of their lives, as much as Hogwarts or owls, but this was going too far, plain and simple. Ripping apart families? No, even Rodger couldn't understand that. Even Rodger, who was nothing short of a workaholic with an inability to delegate, knew the value of family, and this...this was just taking a piss on families all across the United Kingdom. Rodger knew muggles. Rodger knew some of his children had muggleborn friends, and on their behalf, this was way out of line. He had tried in the beginning, tried to understand why there would be a need for such harsh, terrible laws, but he couldn't. There was absolutely no reason to tear families apart, under any circumstances. The recent breaches meant nothing in this regard. These new laws—reactionary though they were—were way, way too much. They weren't helping anyone. As if the barrier keeping students away from their parents wasn't bad enough, now the Ministry was doing the same thing to muggleborn children? Rodger couldn't believe it. It was completely outrageous.

Rodger had no qualms with letting his disdain show on his face as he walked into the courtroom and took his seat with his fellow Aurors. He couldn't help but scoff in disgust as the great Mister Hepatitis Oddball—that was his name, right?—started talking. The Ministry was going to shit, wasn't it. They were going to shit at the hands of this goddamned joker. Rodger had to stifle a groan. He didn't know how much longer he could stand this, and the meeting had only just started. He heard his colleagues speak up, finding himself agreeing with their doubts and indignation. After Oddball's response, followed by one from the woman whose name he couldn't remember, both of which which he found remarkably unsatisfying, Rodger stood up to speak. "Pardon me, Ma'am—" Rodger only employed the formality for the sake of not being a complete arse. "But what do you mean 'under attack'? Surely you're not referring to the breaches, because to my knowledge, no one was injured in any of those. Feel free to correct me if I am mistaken." He added despite his confidence that he was not, in fact, mistaken. He'd done his homework before coming here, otherwise he would've kept his mouth shut.

"Rodger Thorpe, Auror, by the way. Of course—could've just left the Auror part off. I'm a Thorpe...we're all Aurors." He said. (to which his wife, who was sitting across the room, responded, 'Not me, you arse,'—Rodger didn't pretend to be an expert on marriage) "Surely you're not conflating a few outsiders seeing our community with, say, the assassination of the minister?—or the biological attack at the ministry?—both of which were committed by members of our own community." He made no effort to disguise his feelings regarding the matter. "Because if you are, may I just say—on behalf of everyone here and everyone affected by the biological attack—that's insulting, ma'am." He hazarded a glance around the room before he stated, "You wanna talk about threats to the wizarding community? So far, the only true atrocities have come from within." He sat down then, waiting for Oddball or the other Lady with a much less memorable name to respond to his words. He looked over at Winters, shooting him a nod of solidarity before returning his attention to the clown leading the meeting.

@NPC @Adam

This post has been edited by Rodger Thorpe: Jun 29 2017, 10:21 PM
MESSAGE     
^
Orsen Dunnet
 Posted: Jul 2 2017, 07:09 AM
QUOTE     
Kris is Offline
40
posts
36 years old

Mis. of Muggle Artefacts

London
Ministry


The memo distributed on the first of the month had left Orsen feeling sick. Signs of war were hard enough to stomach, watching as conflict raged near and far, rearing its head in unexpected forms and striking with alarming closeness to those he held most dear, but staring down at the starched white parchment had been much too real and somehow even more alarming than the news of an explosion in the Ministry Atrium. The protocol came under the header of a tightening of secrecy measures, keeping the world safe and hidden, but his eyes found every instance of "non-magical," every instance of "Muggleborn," emblazoned across its surface as though the words had been printed in a scalding scarlet ink that shone bright from out among the flat black. For once, the closeness of his office felt like safety, and he'd pushed the door shut, taking some time to simply hide his head in the security of his arms and will away memories of a year spent in abject terror. The Muggleborn Registration Commission had never bothered to pretend at such innocence, their attempts to hide behind due process only the thinnest of veils, but it had taken him by surprise all the same. It was as close to Azkaban as he'd ever come--an Azkaban full of Dementors, at that--and though it was unlikely that the Wizengamot's update to protocol would ever come anywhere near the restrictions Dolores Umbridge had enacted, it was discomforting all the same.

Orsen sat slouched low in his seat, fingers worrying at his bottom lip, one leg propped across the other, foot jostling anxiously. Though his every instinct encouraged him to pull inward, still he stretched himself out, one arm looping around the back of his brother's seat beside him. He hadn't wanted to come to this meeting at all, but it was better to get it out of the way now rather than wait anxiously for it all day, and besides, if Lowen intended to attend he was hardly going to let him go alone. His eyes focused nervously on Oddwex as the man spoke, occasionally flickering to the figures seated at the Head table, but more importantly, fixing on Rowan. He'd been gone for two weeks now, a fact which had done nothing to ease Orsen's worry, but at least he was back now. The sight of him was immediately comforting, even as concern of another sort washed over Orsen. He couldn't help but feel that Rowan didn't look quite right, standing there so still, a sort of laziness in his gaze where once his eyes would have taken in everything about the room. The desire to speak with him, to check in on him, was nearly overwhelming, but he'd sent his letter and said his peace, and it was Rowan's decision now if he wanted to talk more. He had his own grief to deal with, and though Orsen had been through pieces of it with him before, the two of them growing closer in the wake of Ashley's initial departure from the Ministry, this would never be the same. Ash wasn't just gone this time...

Orsen tore his eyes from Rowan's face as members of the assembly began to speak, listening anxiously to Craven's questions and resisting the impulse to shrink in on himself. This legislation could never be anything but personal for him. He wasn't as close with his parents as he'd once been, so steeped in a life they never could truly understood regardless of their access to magic, but this would only close them out further. His fingers curled tighter around the back of Lowen's seat, gripping the wood for support. Despite his fear, a smile curled his lips, tugging them from between his anxious fingers as Winters spoke up with all the authority of an Unspeakable. The man truly had no fear, and it eased a portion of the tension in his soul to have such strong opposition on his side--even Thorpe, who spoke out with vitriol and stood without trepidation despite the warning for the room to remain seated. He must have been confident enough in his position as an Auror not to worry about the security stationed around the room, waiting with wands drawn, but still the gesture was a brave one. Times were not what they'd been. The Second War had shaken most of the pureblood elitism from the interior of the Ministry, and what remained was weak at best. Another movement like the systematic rounding up of Muggleborn citizens that had taken place during his third year of school was unlikely to ever get much traction. There was tension in the air, an outrage he might otherwise have wished to soothe, but within the passion of it he felt safe.
MESSAGE     EMAIL     
^
0 User(s) are reading this topic (0 Guests and 0 Anonymous Users)
0 Members:

OPTIONSPages: (2) 1 2  REPLY     FAST REPLY     TOPIC      POLL 



 


 

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

Wizarding Warfare Ilvermorny  Fidelius Relashio! Pumpkin Juice

ACTA INCREDIBLE SURFACE LIES

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