The success of the first meetup has noticably eased some of the tensions that had been building in the month after the New Year and the appearance of Yurina, which means Fergus has been moved off comment duty to refocus on his original specialization, which has it's pros for sure, but also has some cons.

On the brighter side, he's back to doing work that actually somewhat interests him - normally he'd never apply to something like this, but at least he's managed to still do some transportation-related work despite being trapped for a year away from his desk in the Portkey Offices. And of course Channer is always great to work with - always has been - and Fergus has been toying with a few further ideas during the brief break that he's planning to present to Audrey and Cadi later in the week when things are fully back to normal. Or as normal as they can get considering the new circumstances.

On the down side he's now back to having to try and wrangle information out of the other Initiative members since he's no longer directly connected to the Muggle reaction. He's good at talking to people, of course, he always has been, but he feels even worse now than he had before every time he gets a colleague to confess something to him under the pretenses of his being a safe person to talk to. Now he knows that every personal detail he sends out in his nightly report is being dropped into Yurina's lap, or at least into the lap of one of her... commanders? Co-conspirators? Honestly Fergus isn't sure what Yurina's system setup actually looks like - he's just one pawn in what he'd be willing to be is a very large game of chess, and he only ever gets to know the things he's directly involved with.

Heck, when he'd dropped off the information to BBC, he hadn't even known what was inside the envelope. He'd been instructed to not break the seal, so he hadn't, and it was a good thing too - he'd actually been talking to Audrey and her husband Percy at the Prophet Christmas Party when the news had dropped. Though he had known that something was about to go down, his lacking knowledge of the details meant he hadn't had to fake his surprise at all.

Of course, he was mostly surprised the news hadn't been worse. Fergus had been at Hogwarts during the war, knew classmates who had died in the final battle - heck, his Gryffindor roommates Gabe and Nathan had been (maybe unsurprisingly) wrapped up in the heart of the fighting with Dumbledore's Army - so he knows there are worse skeletons in the magical closet left to fall out. Then again, the information that was released couldn't be too devastating, considering Yurina needed to endear herself to the Muggle public post-reveal, so it does make sense in retrospect.

Thinking too hard on the entire situation honestly stresses him out, so for the most part he does his best to not think about it at all. It's less difficult than it probably should be to push the details out of his mind and mechanically go through the motions, but after years working under his mysterious handler it's pretty much become second nature. Do what he's told, and he gets to live.

It's only at night when he's submitted his report that questions start to creep up, plaguing his mind and seeping into his dreams in a way that's left him utterly exhausted the past few months. But despite that, he still submits reports that are as detailed as he can manage. The terms of his continued living are vague, and he's not taking any chances thank you very much.

The memory of that night will be seared into his mind for the rest of his life. He had only recently joined the Portkey Office, barely knew half his coworkers at that point, when his little flat in London had been broken into and he'd walked straight into an ambush.

The exact details are blurry, as he'd been locked into an Imperius curse and had immediately dropped into a panic, but he remembers enough.

He remembers his limbs moving themselves, his mouth forming around words without his permission, even as he screamed from where he'd been trapped in his own mind. It had only been three years since the war had ended, and Fergus was still on edge. The whole magical world was, really - no one had completely healed after only three years, and though Fergus hadn't lost anyone directly he knew enough people who were gone too soon to not be extra terrified by the situation he'd stumbled into, which really was terrifying enough entirely on it's own.

He'd been forced to make an Unbreakable Vow. "Obey or die." Those had been the terms given by the cloaked woman (at least, he mentally refers to her as female due to her voice - it really could be anyone since basic vocal pitch changes aren't exactly hard) who had engaged in the Vow with him. He had passed out the moment he'd been released from the Imperius, and awoken on his floor with a note laid out in front of him, detailing exactly what the first instructions he'd needed to 'obey' were.

There were a few items on the list, from the simple 'get to know your bosses' to the far more complex 'work out a method of communication in which only the intended recipient can see the messages sent (that task had resulted in his creation of the linked parchments, which could be keyed to specific magical signatures. He's really rather proud of that accomplishment, despite the duress he'd developed it under). Most importantly, he couldn't tell anyone that he was under and Unbreakable Vow, which was of course unsurprising, but resulted in him pulling away from his family and friends to the point where he doesn't really know them anymore.

For seventeen years he's been effectively isolated from everyone around him, and he's long gone numb to the realities of his life. He can turn a blind eye to the Portkeys that sometimes go missing, ignore the suspcious circumstances surrounding his promotion to Head of the Portkey Offices, stay late at work when asked and not question what the point is. This is simply how things are for him, and with his muzzle order still effectively set there's nothing he can do about it. So he just goes along for the ride - better oblivious and controlled than dead after all.

At least, that was his thinking before, when orders only came through every few months at the most, and he wasn't having to report on people he was actually starting to kind of like every single day. When he didn't really have to consider the consequences of what he was doing.

Things started going downhill when the Incident happened. He'd known something was coming, had been told to be prepared, and when it started he realized that the group he'd been Bound by weren't just desperate. They weren't going to fizzle out on their own in time. They were organized, and they were massive. And he had been helping them along.

The worst part arguably is that, looking back now, even if he'd known he wouldn't have changed anything he did. The fact he's continued to follow orders and is now spying on the Initiative more than proves that. He does feel bad though, and he misses his old numbness in a major way. The Initiative is honestly trying to do some good - even Alex is full-in on cooperation now and Fergus had been confident he if nothing else was proof this could never work - and here Fergus is smiling to their faces while sharpening a knife behind their backs. He has no idea what Yurina and her group's next move is going to be, but he has no doubt he'll be involved somehow.

He's feeling rather gloomy when he leaves work one afternoon, and it only gets worse when no less than three people check if he's feeling alright. He waves them all off and heads home via the Floo, glad to be home a bit earlier than normal since his report won't be expected for a few more hours. So he collapses into bed, still in his work robes, and takes a three hour nap.

When he groggily awakens, he drags himself across the flat to his study (a different one than the little apartment he'd had at eighteen - he'd sold that soon after the Vow, unable to stand being in his own house alone anymore) and snags the parchment out of its drawer.

When he'd been sent the instructions to apply for the Initiative, he'd also been given a series of code phrases with simple but still understandable meanings - the implication had of course been that he should take the parchment with him to work and record things as they happened, using the codes if anyone else was watching. He of course hasn't yet taken the parchment in, and as nothing bad has happened he plans to keep it that way. If he doesn't get explicit instructions, then he'll go ahead and do things in the way that makes him most comfortable thank you very much.

With Phase Two now active though, he's not sure how much longer he'll be able to keep giving his reports after work. The group will probably want more immediate updates than what they're currently getting from him, and he's not looking forward to having to bring his treachery into the heart of the Initiative. What happens if someone looks over his shoulder? Asks if he needs help? What is he supposed to say to them?

Well, obviously he'll tell them he's fine like he always does, but still. It's not a pleasant thought.

Sighing, he pushes his worries aside and sets about writing today's report. There really isn't all that much that's new - he has a meeting with Channer in a few days, as well as one with the broom-maker Tyler Abbott to start considering Muggle-safe broom development set up for next week (not that he thinks anything that complex will have time to really get off the ground - Yurina will upend this fragile peace soon enough, he's sure, and everything will grind to a halt again), and of course Petra is still down in the Archives, scouring through numerous incidents of overlap to try and control the information flow. Fergus hasn't yet been told to try and stop her or accompany her down to get details on her work, which he's not questioning but does seem to be another instance of some future instruction being a matter of time.

For now he wracks his brain and begins writing, sketching out every minute detail that he can recall from his wandering about today. He does wonder if he should even bother mentioning that Petra had gone down to the Archives considering it's what she does everyday, but as he always includes how Aruna never leaves her office he figures he should extend the same courtesy to Petra and her new routines. As he's no longer actively engaged with the media team he's no longer briefed on the content of her findings, which he also mentions since honestly there isn't all that much to report, but he always worries if he doesn't write very much - what if they decide it isn't enough? That he isn't properly 'obeying'? Fergus has been walking on this tightrope for a while, but never for as long as this, and he's pretty damn sure he's going to slip and fall sooner rather than later at this point. But he does his best, and so far he's not dead so it's been working out.

He reads over his latest report twenty minutes later, sighs, and signs off with the usual code phrase. He speaks the truth - and indication that the message is complete.

A thing can be true and still be desperate folly.

The return phrase shows up not five minutes later. Whoever is on the other end of this had obviously been waiting, and the idea makes Fergus sick. But he resolutely shoves it down and goes to bed.

Another day survived. He's calling that a victory - and not letting himself think on it any further than that.

Edward finds himself now in a rather tricky situation. With Petra systematically working her way through the Archives, it's only a matter of time before she begins to discover that certain key files have gone missing, and all questions raised to that fact would inevitably, eventually, point back to Edward, the one person who's been Archive diving from nearly the beginning of this whole mess. Which means he needs to figure out how to get the files back into the Archives without drawing the attention of his superiors or the Archive head, who always seems to be lingering nearby these days - much more than she had before.

He and his team have a meeting about it at the start of the second week of February on Edward's mandatory mental health day. Jennifer and Kevin both bring the parchment rolls they've been holding on to so they can reconsolidate everything to be returned before anyone catches wind of the missing information.

"You have pictures of everything, right?"

"And they're crystal clear and easy to read." Jennifer confirms, then grins wryly. "Well, as easy as they can be. Some of these witches and wizards have terrible handwriting." She adds, and Kevin chuckles.

"I mean, they're still using quills, is it any wonder their writing is wonky?" Kevin points out.

"Your writing is wonky and you type." Jennifer snipes at him cheerfully, and Edward feels like his team isn't taking this as seriously as he is.

"Seriously? Guys, we need to focus here." He says tiredly. "If we can't get these back in place, our entire operation could be blown when Petra reaches these areas."

Jennifer pats him lightly on the knee. "You know she's a twenty-something who's never been down there before, right? How would she even know anything was missing?"

Edward grimaces. "Because Archive employees often help her throughout the day?"

Jennifer sits up at that. "Well okay. You didn't mention that." She says, slightly accusatory. "You always said before that the staff were barely around inside the actual Archive rooms, that it was just the one person at the front who you check in and out with."

"It was, but that was apparently pre-Yurina." He sighs. "They've been buzzing around everything lately, especially the head, Eloise Taylor. I swear the woman is a ghost - how she moves in heels like that without making noise is beyond me."

Jennifer grins. "Trade secret." She declares brightly, before sobering up again. "But if she's watching, you probably can't return things during the day - she'd notice that."

"Yeah, I ing figured that much out. Why do you think I asked you to clear your evenings?" Edward grumbles, and gets a strong smack on the arm from Kevin in warning.

"Which we did, no questions asked. Don't be a about it Edward, we've already let you get away with a lot." Kevin says flatly. There are bags under his eyes and an edge to his voice that makes Edward wince - Kevin's son Oliver is sick at the moment, and it's obviously taking a major toll on his parents.

"Sorry. Just stressed." Edward sighs. "So what's the plan then? Sneaking in after closing seems nigh-on impossible considering the Ministry is magically shielded - could I even get in at night?"

"But if you can't return them during the day, then night is our only option." Kevin points out. "Maybe there are alternative ways in? Do they have, like, emergency exits or something like what regular office buildings have?"

"Good question." Edward says. "Someone get me a pen and pad - we're going to start collecting questions now, and tomorrow I'll start collection the answers."

Their meeting does end up going well into the night - in addition to the alternate entry question they need to know what sort of security the Ministry has set up when its closed, what time the Archives are emptied (they close at eight but that may not mean anything to the employees), and how Edward can carry all the pilfered scrolls back in without it being obvious. They also discuss future plans for how to smuggle single scrolls out and then back into the Archives.

"We probably should have been doing this from the beginning." Kevin observes idly once everything is as hammered out as it's going to be for now. "Getting just one or two scrolls is easy enough, so long as you're careful. I think worst case you'll just have to do this in batches."

Edward grimaces. Kevin is right, of course, but he doens't love the idea. Each day that the files are missing is another day it could be discovered. "Hopefully it won't come to that." He says, "But we'll call it plan B."

Plan A - which is at the moment really just making a plan that will eventually turn into Plan A - is begun first thing the next morning when Edward finds himself riding the lift with Demelza up to the seventh floor.

"Does this thing ever break down? Or is it maintained eternally by magic?" He asks, keeping his tone light and curious.

Demelza glances over at him with an inquisitive smile. "Nah, they can break. Why do you ask?"

"Hmm, shame. I was thinking eternally-functional lifts would be excellent safety precautions to put into Muggle buildings."

"Oh it would be!" Demelza exclaims. "Man, I'm disappointed now. But nah, we've got stairs, same as everyone else. If there's enough magic being flung around then the spells that run the lifts can't deal with interference and shut down temporarily."

Edward tilts his head. "I'm not sure I've ever seen these stairs." He observes, and Demelza frowns, before her eyes fly wide and she slaps a hand over .

"Oh we didn't Muggle-ify the stairs. Merlin's balls." She swears, and Edward can't help laughing.

"It's an understandable oversight." He offers, even though it really isn't.

"Oh don't bull me, it's a massive oversight and we carked up horridly. I'm genuinely sorry, and thanks for pointing that out Ed, I'll bring it up right away with the bosses to get that fixed up." Demelza says, and Edward is surprised to find that he believes her apology. Though he supposes Demelza has always been incredibly genuine in her interactions with him, so perhaps it really isn't that surprising.

She waves distractedly at him when the lifts open and immediately bolts towards Lopatkina-Paluch's office, and Edward smiles when she kicks it open in lieu of a knock. He goes to settle at his own desk, rather pleased. Question one already answered, and he bets he can get a few more solutions out of Demelza before the day is out. He settles to do some busy work while Demelza loudly chews out their superior, though unfortunately not quite loudly enough for Edward to eavesdrop on the conversation. He's completed a few forms (for Aruna - none of them are doing Hunter work these days) when Demelza slams her hands down onto his desk, and he looks up to see her grinning triumphantly.

"We've got a new job for the day." She declares coyly, and Edward shoves the incomplete pile of files in front of him onto Tristan Morgan's desk in reply, earning a bright laugh from Demelza and a whine of protest from the young man.

"Oh come on, at least keep some of them for, like, tomorrow." Morgan begs, but Edward waves at him idly.

"It's Muggle law stuff, I thought you might find it interesting actually." He observes, and has to stifle a smirk when Morgan's eyes go wide and bright with excitement.

"Right. Nevermind, I'll happily take this off your hands for today, yes." He agrees, dragging the files towards himself as Demelza laughs and latches onto Edward's arm, steering him towards a back wall of the offices.

"So it's somewhere around here, I'm pretty sure, but I've never actually had to use the emergency stairs before." Demelza admits. "Some people use them every day because why not kill your legs I guess, but I'm perfectly content with the lift."

"Do Aurors not have to be in shape?" Edward can't resist the tease - Demelza's fussing is too similar to how Jennifer gets sometimes to ignore.

She scoffs at him. "Please, I've seen you looking, you know I'm hot Ed." She declares, shooting him a grin afterwards. "But honestly it's because of Auror's intense workout routines that I prefer the lift - I'm usually sore as by the end of the day. Generally the people who use the stairs are secretaries and other desk workers. It's probably the most exercise they get during the day. Ah, here it is." Demelza presses her wand to a blank section of the wall, only for a door to appear out of nowhere.

"Like magic." Edward says dryly, and Demelza rewards him with a laugh.

"Indeed. I have to make some adjustments to the charms here so it stays visible for the rest of the day. Then we get to go do that for every single floor in the Ministry, and afterwards we get to track down the janitorial staff so they can go to the central control spell and make the visibility permanent."

Edward raises an eyebrow. "Sounds thrilling. Not to be that person, but what am I doing in all this, exactly?"

Demelza doesn't look up as she replies. "You're going to keep me from losing my mind because this is really complicated stuff and I'm going to require some levity between doors. There are fifteen levels  counting the sub-basements you know."

"So I'm the clown."

She laughs, and he mentally memorizes what the door looks like and it's exact location. This is definitely a major bonus, and considering Demelza had said people take these stairs all the time they likely don't sound any alarms when opened. At least not during the day.

He tails the older woman throughout the day, memorizing door locations but also having a surprisingly good time chatting with Demelza. At one point he asks her to explain her process, and finds himself regretting it when it feels like he's back in his university calculus class. "I admit I would have never guessed that magic required math." He says after she finally finishes her explanation.

She grins. "Everything requires math, it's the basic building block of the universe you know."

"Atoms are the basic building blocks of the universe, and math is headache inducing." Edward corrects, and Demelza frowns at him.

"...Not to showcase how bad magical schooling is, but remind me what an atom is?"

Edward can only stare at her for a long moment as she slowly grows brighter and brighter red, until he finally collapses into laughter - more at the look on her face than over any mirth at the atrocity that apparently is the magical curriculum.

She kicks him. "Shut it! I can make things turn into each other, what can you knowing about a dang atom do!"

He shakes his head, still laughing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, your face was ridiculous." He finally eases his chuckles down to less intense levels to find a still bright red Demelza glaring at him. "I'm really not laughing at you. But Mr. Edevane really does have his work cut out for him, trying to mediate the two worlds' educational systems, doesn't he?"

Demelza huffs, still obviously embarrassed but slowly returning to her normal coloring. "Yeah, he does. There's no way he'll be done in a year - I have no idea what the Minister was thinking making the Initiative honestly, she should have just put together a new Department. It would have been a little more complicated, but we'll have to do it anyway."

"Assuming integration is still something people want in a year." Edward can't help pointing out. There's all the chance in the world Muggles will have wised up and started making demands for equality and honesty that the magical world won't give. Not that he says any of that, of course. "She probably wanted to let the situation play out some before committing to any particular response direction."

Demelza hums. "I suppose that's a good point. Oop, next door, hold that thought."

Fifty minutes later they've finished the standard floors and have moved to the sub-basement levels.

"Theses are even more difficult, if you can imagine." Demelza sighs. "These lower levels are usually super magically complex, so the doors can technically show up anywhere. I'll be honest, this is what I actually needed you for - to charm Judge Poole and Ms. Taylor to let us set a permanent location for the stairwell doors on their floors. Poole will probably be easier, so we'll start with her."

Edward is feeling less confident now - of course the Archives are going to be complicated to get an easy back access to, heaven forbid his job ever be simple. But he keeps a straight face and follows Demelza out into the Wizengamot level, though it seems to be a secretarial section of the floor. Demelza waves to a few people as they walk, but she seems to know exactly where they're going and never slows even slightly.

"You have a lot of friends down here." Edward observes after the thirteenth wave, and Demelza flaps her hand dismissively.

"Nah, Aurors just work with Wizengamot Administration a lot so you get to know each other regardless of if you actually get along or not." She explains. "I'm sure you've got stuff like that back in your usual work, right?"

Edward thinks it over. "Yeah, though not so much in the legal field - we mostly get to know the forensics folk." He states. "So any chance you could explain in more detail why these floors are going to be more complicated? The last few seemed simple enough."

"Different control spell, simply put." Demelza shrugs. "Because of how labyrinthian the sub-basements are, they're set up so the escape door can literally be called to your position for quick and easy escape in emergency situations. Locking it to one location... well, you can imagine why it could be dangerous. But with Muggles joining the Ministry they need access, so we'll have to work something out."

"Sounds like something that could take longer than just today." Edward points out. "Maybe we should focus on getting the top floors locked in first, to make sure the rest of our work today isn't reset?"

It's the exact opposite of what he wants to do, but it's also the most reasonable suggestion he can make, so he makes it. Demelza frowns, waves her wand, and then swears.

"You're right, we need to get those fixed in place, it's nearly five." She sighs, stopping in her tracks. "I didn't realize how much time was passing. Let's go find a janitor then, and we can work the sub-basement angle tomorrow?"

Edward tilts his head in acknowledgement and follows her back towards the front of the floor. They take the lift up to the Atrium and move directly to the greeter. Edward mostly stands back, letting Demelza take the lead, since he honestly has never even seen a janitor in his months working here - he'd actually assumed the cleaning and maintenance was all done magically.

"Heya T, could we get a passage open to maintenance?" She asks, earning a strange look from the usual afternoon greeter.

"Sure, but what do you need it for?" He asks suspiciously, even as he pulls out his wand. Great security, there. Edward thinks wryly.

Demezla hums, "We're making the stairs permanently accessible so that the Muggles can use them." She explains. "We already pinned the upper floors today and need staff to lock them in like that."

As she talks, the wall next to them abruptly yawns open, and Edward can't help the step back that he takes. It looks like the wall is collapsing, and considering how far underground they are the prospect is genuinely worrying.

Demelza smirks at him. "Ready to descend into the belly of the beast?" She jokes. "All seriousness though, it's basically the end of the day and this is all magical technical mumbo-jumbo - I won't be insulted if you want to head out and reconvene tomorrow to figure out the sub-basement issue."

Edward shakes his head. Knowing how these things work is important, especially if he plans to sneak around the building at night - there may be more answers down these hidden tunnels and he may never get the opportunity to explore them again.

"No chance of 'Muggle-ifying' these?" He asks idly as they make their way down the long, winding new pathway, trailing his hand along the walls. They feel solid enough, but the image of them curling in on themselves only moments earlier is still vivid in his mind.

Demelza snorts. "They're already Muggle-ified." She says lightly. "Most of maintenance are Squibs. It's just a matter of knowing where the entryways are and how to navigate the tunnels, which most people can't."

Edward frowns. "But the greeter used his wand?"

"To tell maintenance what we need. The tunnels are leading us exactly where we need to go. Trust me, if we were relying on my sense of direction we'd die down here."

"Cheery." Edward frowns. Tunnels are out then, though their reaction to Squibs does raise some questions on whether magic can be modified for Muggle use.

He says as much to Demelza, who nods. "Oh absolutely - once we're past this initial rush we'll almost definitely start seeing groups working towards developing things like that. I can't say I know much about how it all works on a technical level, but the baseline is there. Although," She muses, "It would be interesting to see if Squib interaction with magic is any different than Muggle interaction. Some theories suggest that exposure alone has an impact."

Edward raises an eyebrow at her. "No offense Demelza, but I honestly wouldn't peg you as the type to know those sorts of things."

She blushes again and kicks him lightly in the ankle as they walk. "Hush you. I may have been listening to Tristan droning on about it a couple days ago, but it is super interesting to think about!"

He laughs. "It is, it is."

They reach a door about ten minutes later (these tunnels are long) and Demelza knocks politely and then, shock of all shocks, actually waits to be let in.

Edward doesn't say anything, but Demelza shoves him slightly anyway so he must be making an expression giving away his inner dialogue. He just grins at her.

"Hello all, sorry to interrupt." Demelza declares as she sweeps through the opened door. "You've probably seen what we were up to all day though."

"We have." An amused woman agrees from where she's seated in a large easy chair. She's definitely older, though she looks spry enough so Edward can't imagine she's past her early fifties at the absolute latest. "And we certainly approve of the measure, though why the stairwell isn't just adjusted according to our forms seems a bit of an oversight."

"Well we don't know if your forms will work for unexposed Muggles." Demelza points out. "We can probably rework things as more research is done."

Edward honestly has no idea what either one of the women is talking about, but they seem very focused so he opts to not interrupt, instead wandering around the room with his hands carefully tucked against the small of his back so as to not disturb anything during his observation. One disturbing discovery he makes is that the door they came in through no longer seems to be present, but he pushes that worry aside for the moment since he assumes Demelza wouldn't come here if there was no way back out.

The entire room looks rather like someone put a very old airport control tower into a cave. There are a variety of dials, lights, and buttons, many of which are on switchboards that are busily humming away. It's almost surreal to see - Demelza had early mentioned a "central control spell" and it's an odd discovery to find that there is a literal, physical mechanism that can apparently control magic. He'd honestly just been assuming they'd find someone who would wave their wand and that would be the extent of it.

Maybe he should start listening to Tristan's rambling as well - magic is clearly a lot more complicated than storybooks would have one believe.

Demelza and the woman (he never did catch her name) eventually wrap up, and another door appears that takes them directly back into the Atrium, which is now flooded with a number of Ministry workers heading home for the day.

"Meet back in the office tomorrow?" Demelza checks as the tunnel collapses away behind them, and Edward nods a confirmation. Tomorrow will be the really important day in all of this - if he can convince Taylor to keep an open, non-lift access to the Archives then he'll be that much closer to returning the stolen files without anyone knowing any better.

The next day they head straight down to the Wizengamot level again, managing to arrive before many of the administrators.

"Sarah got a note from maintenance saying you two would be by today." One woman at the front says as they step off the lift. "She's in the deliberation room and she's already not thrilled, by the way, so good luck."

Demelza makes a face. "Thanks for the warning Mrs. Wilson. See you later."

Mrs. Wilson tilts her head and turns back to her work.

"Claire Wilson, co-head of Wizengamot Administration Sevices." Demelza informs Edward as they once again weave through the desks and further into the basement. "Caused a bit of a scandal when she married one of her subordinates a few years back, a Muggleborn to boot which I hear her family wasn't thrilled with, but she's honestly super chill and good at her job. You get her or Mr. Selwyn working your case and you can basically sit back and watch everything fall into place. It's why they're co-heads actually - when the last guy retired there was a two month debate over which of them was more qualified for the position, and both sides had equally good points."

Edward raises his eyebrow. "Her family had a problem with her marrying a Muggleborn?" He asks flatly, and Demelza shrugs.

"She's a Rosier, one of- well, I guess no longer one of the only remaining pureblood families in England, since her older brother is married to a half-blood. I'm not sure if there are other branches? Anyway, her mom made a whole fuss - it was back around when I had just graduated and I happened to be working with Mrs. Wilson when her mom comes storming in. It was kind of badass though, Claire just straight-up told her to get onboard or get out of her life."

Edward hums but doesn't comment, honestly unsure how to feel about the information. They reach the deliberation room not too long after, thankfully, so Edward doesn't have to come up with a proper response.

The room they step into is somehow both intimidating and intimate - it's relatively small, overall, but polished mahogany walls and floors with intricate detailing on the moldings around large windows make the room feel almost regal. It's a strange combination.

The room is also mostly empty aside from a two simple wooden chairs set up to face a large desk, behind which sits a brunette who already looks like she has better things to be doing. Edward assumes this must be Sarah Poole, Head of the Wizengamot. She's clearly pushing fifty if not already past it, with greying roots and prominent wrinkles across her neck, though outside of crow's feet her face is surprisingly young so she could just be aging prematurely due to stress.

"Good morning Madame Poole. Thank you for meeting with us." Demelza greets politely, confirming Edward's suspicions. "Did Mrs. Weston inform you of our proposal?"

Mrs. Weston must be the Squib from yesterday then. Perhaps Edward could befriend her? Having access or at least an understanding of those tunnels may prove useful later down the line...

"She did, and I'm going to save us all time by denying the request." Poole says flatly, and Edward frowns, rather quickly drawn out of his thoughts. "It simply isn't feasible to have the door locked to one area - it would be too dangerous should something happen unexpectedly and people couldn't reach the door."

Demelza frowns but doesn't look like she's going to argue against the (stupid, in Edward's opinion) statement, so he clears his throat and steps forward.

"If I may?" He asks, and waits for Poole to turn her eyes to him. "Edward Clark, Muggle consultant for the Hunters. Considering the increased numbers of Muggles visiting these days, is it wise to fully ignore their ability to escape just so magical people are - and pardon my phrasing here - less inconvenienced? A bit of extra walking I find doesn't generally cause much disadvantage."

Poole's eyes have narrowed as he speaks. "Have you ever fought in a war, Mr. Clark?" She asks after a moment, and the question is enough of a non sequitr that Edward is momentarily thrown off guard. He blinks before slowly shaking his head. "I have. I fought in the last war. I fought on this very floor. And I will tell you something: our ability to draw the escape stairs directly to our locations saved dozens of lives during that final battle. I will not subject anyone here to not having that easy access to something so potentially life saving simply because you are apparently unwilling to ask a magical person to help you use the exit. And before you protest," She adds, hand twisting up in warning as Edward begins to reply. "The people I was fighting? They were led by Yurina Nakayashi. So long as she and her group are still at large, I will not be budging on this. I will not put lives at risk. It is as simple as that."

"Your argument assumes Muggles will be near someone who's magical." Edward counters. "What if they aren't? That's a life avoidably lost in an emergency situation."

Poole purses her lips, and exhales a slow breath through her nose. "Then perhaps Muggles should not be left on these lower floors unattended." She says after a long moment. "I understand that is not an ideal situation for you, Mr. Clark, but in this case, until another alternative is put forth, we are going to put the safety of the majority over the safety of the one. That is my final say on the matter."

Edward is ready to keep arguing, but Demelza tugs on his elbow and he reluctantly allows himself to be led out before rounding on her.

"Seriously? That's it?" He demands, and Demelza shrugs.

"I fought in the war too." She says quietly, and that... that gives Edward pause. Demelza is older than him, yes, but only by four years. She would have been fifteen at the absolute oldest twenty years ago so...

"How could you have fought in the war? You were just a kid." He points out, but his mind is already supplying him with the answer, and it's not one he likes.

"The final battle was at Hogwarts." She says simply. "I snuck back in. A lot of Dumbledore's Army did. We'd been fighting Voldemort's cronies all year in whatever small ways we could and it just felt wrong to stand aside at the final run. After everything we went through, it was our fight too, you know?" She gives a tired grin as they reach the lift, somewhat to Edward's surprise. He hadn't really noticed they were still moving as Demelza spoke. "Honestly, if you were any sort of magical in England back then you were impacted by the war - it was everywhere. But anyway, enough about that." She shakes her head and tries to brighten her grin, with limited success. "So much for Poole being the easy one, huh? They say Taylor helped defend the Ministry too, back then, so she'll probably have much of the same to say, but it never hurts to try."

Edward rather disagrees with that sentiment - sometimes things do hurt to try - but he holds his tongue since in this case things will probably at worst result in disappointment rather than severe injury or death. He follows Demelza quietly into the lift, and the short ride one floor down feels like an eternity without the usual comfortable banter they engage in. He's not sure when exactly it happened, but at some point he'd begun relaxing around Demelza, and the tension that's now sitting between them is strange. But he doesn't break it - it's dangerous he even let himself become this close to a witch in the first place, considering it could compromise his role as informant for the British government. Maybe this is good for the long-term, even if right now it's uncomfortable (awful).

They step out into the Archive entrance to find Eloise Taylor sitting behind the desk looking somewhat amused.

"I imagine Sarah wasn't very cooperative?" She observes, and Edward frowns.

Demelza tilts her head beside him. "How did you-"

"I got a letter from Mrs. Weston this morning." She answers before Demelza can finish the question. "And I've been thinking through your problem and believe I may have come up with a solution that would work in everyone's favor."

Well isn't that convenient. But in this case Edward won't look a gift horse in the mouth, at least not until he's seen the horse in question.

"One Madame Poole will agree with?" He asks, and Taylor smirks.

"Sarah is quite clever, but she's not always the most imaginative of people. The tunnels work for Squibs - why can't we use that to make the necessary adjustments for the sub-basement escape doors?"

Edward blinks. It's honestly brilliant and he's a bit ashamed he hadn't thought of it himself. But this offers yet another opportunity to get to know Weston and the tunnels, as well as the tricks employed to use them.

"Does that not require magic exposure though?" Demelza asks curiously. "I always thought Squibs still had some ability to interact with magic because they came from magical families. Or I picked it up from Tristan this past week, whichever."

"No one exactly knows how the tunnels work." Taylor says idly. "But your Muggle friend here may be able to learn some of the secrets should he ask."

Edward raises an eyebrow at that. Then the Squibs who work in the Ministry also don't trust magical people - interesting. He definitely is onboard with this plan though. "I wouldn't be opposed to working with Mrs. Weston." He confirms with as much professional detachment as he can muster. "It certainly seems to be our best option, moving forward."

"Agreed." Demelza nods. "Right then, um, thank you for your time Mrs. Taylor."

This time the lift ride isn't nearly as tense.

"Well, that went inverse of what I expected, but I think we've got a game plan in place at least." Demelza declares cheerfully, all signs of her earlier worry wiped away entirely. "I think we should report back to Finn and Fiona and then see about setting up a proper meeting with Mrs. Weston. I mean, she probably already knows, but it's always good to be polite."

"So I'm getting the sense that for all the powerful political figures we work beside, this older Squib woman has the most power within the Ministry." Edward notes dryly, and Demelza laughs.

"Yep, pretty much. During the Ministry cleansing after the war, maintenance was given a lot more power thanks to how much they helped in secret. No one other than the Minister and Mrs. Shacklebolt really know all the details on that front, but it was apparently massive." She shrugs. "And it's worked well so far - Mrs. Weston is honestly a very badass lady, and crazy smart. Probably would have been a Ravenclaw if she wasn't a Squib."

Edward hums. "Well I'll look forward to working with her then." He says, and Demelza looks at him slyly as the lift doors side open on the seventh floor.

"You'd probably be a Ravenclaw too. So you'll get along well I think." She observes as they head directly for the leaders' office.

Edward raises an eyebrow. "Is that how friendships are formed in the magical world? If you're the same House you automatically get along?"

Demelza shrugs. "It is what tends to happen, though sharing a dorm with someone who has similar values for seven straight years tends to inevitably create bonds whether you like it or not, even if they usually don't last long past school."

"Fair enough." Edward makes sure he's the one to knock on McKay and Lopatkina-Paluch's door before Demelza can engage in her usual disrespectful barging in, and he makes them both wait to be called in.

Demelza sticks her tongue out just before pushing open the door upon their admittance. Only McKay is sitting inside, and she gives them both a curious smile.

"I thought it might be you two - only Edward actually waits for permission to come in these days." She jokes lightly. "How is your project coming along? I saw our floor's emergency door was still visible this morning, so it seems the top levels are finished?"

Demelza nods enthusiastically. "That was easy enough, it's the sub-basements we're working on now..."

Edward lets her explain the situation, tuning into his own thoughts to reorder them in light of their next steps. With the upper levels providing easy access to the stairwell he can probably use them to get into the Archives - it's leaving that could pose a problem if he and Mrs. Weston can't work something out relatively quickly. Luckily it seems he'll be able to at least start speaking with her today, based on what McKay and Demelza are discussing, and worst case he supposes he can just prop the door open for himself should push come to shove.

The discussion between the two women wraps up relatively quickly, and Edward tilts his head in a silent goodbye to McKay as he follows Demelza back out.

"So lunch first, and then you'll be off to see Mrs. Weston!" Demelza says brightly. "This is all going much faster and with less complications than I was expecting, though I suppose it's possible the tunnel method won't end up working - but we'll just have to wait and see on that front!"

Edward gives her a smile. Wait and see indeed.

Demelza drops him off with the greeter after lunch, and the wall next to them once again falls away (and it's still extemely disconcerting, no matter that Edward was expecting it this time). Edward clears his throat uncertainly before stepping into the endless hallway - which is a lot less endless, this time. He's only been walking two minutes when he comes upon a door - different from the one they'd stepped through the day before.

He knocks politely and it swings open to allow him entrance to what appears to be a small sitting room, complete with two overlarge easy chairs and a crackling fireplace.

Mrs. Weston is already seated in one of the chairs, and she gestures for Edward to take the other, which he does as gracefully as he can mange considering how he sinks into the squishy cushions.

"Mrs. Weston, I appreciate you speaking with me-" He starts, but she raises a hand.

"Before we do anything else Mr. Clark, I need you to be very honest with me: did you drop the information that ruined everyone's holidays?"

Edward can't help startling slightly. He had joked about her being all-powerful, but apparently she's all knowing as well. He eventually decides that fully honesty will be the best option here - he gets the sense if he lies, she'll know.

"No ma'am, I did not, and I don't know who did." He replies after a beat. "Is there a reason you ask?"

"I've seen you nosing around areas in the Archive that make no sense for you to be in." She says simply. "I trust you have your reasons for doing so, but I am not in the business of giving away trade secrets to those who may abuse them. The tunnels saved many lives in the war, Mr. Clark, and I hope you understand and respect the amount of trust we are putting in you in doing this."

Edward lets that settle. For something that's been over for twenty years, the war does seem to come up quite a bit. Of course, with Yurina's resurgence he supposes it's not surprising it's back on everyone's minds.

"I assume you fought in the war as well, then?" He asks, but is surprised when Mrs. Weston shakes her head.

"I lived as a Muggle then, with my husband who is also a Squib. We returned to help clean up the mess his sister had left in her wake as Undersecretary." She replies evenly. She doesn't elaborate on her sister-in-law or what she had done, and Edward doesn't ask. Best to stay on topic for now. "However, there were already Squibs present here, running these tunnels and helping a certain rat in the Ministry smuggle some convicted Muggleborns out where they could. It wasn't many, but some lives saved are always better than no lives saved. And since the tunnels are inaccessible to any who don't have the keys, they were able to hide people down here for days, even weeks, waiting for a moment when it was safe to move them out and into a safe house in the city.

"So you see, these tunnels and the limited access to them are incredibly important. Do you understand?"

Edward nods solemnly, and the woman gives a half-smile.

"I do not think you do, young man. So I will offer you a compromise: I can manually keep the Archive or Wizengamot escape doors visible whenever there are Muggles present on those floors. Until I am certain of your good intentions, this is all I am willing to do."

It's a blow to both his plans and his ego - Edward had been so certain he'd been covering his tracks. Alas, if he wants to keep Mrs. Weston from digging deeper, he can't react poorly to her offer - it would only make him look suspicious.

"Entirely understandable ma'am." He agrees. "And considering it is primarily myself and Ms. Kandasamy on these floors, it shouldn't be too difficult to keep an eye on our locations."

"Not difficult at all." Mrs. Weston replies with an odd little smile. "I do hope to see you here again some time, Mr. Clark. Perhaps under more amenable circumstances."

Edward merely tilts his head in acknowledgement as he stands, and an exit door appears just behind Mrs. Weston.

The tunnel back out is a longer one, and he muses to himself over the meeting. It certainly could have gone worse, but he's definitely back to plan B for how to get in and out of the Archives without notice. Which is unfortunate, but there's little to be done about it now. By the time he reaches the exit again, he's determined he'll go ahead and move tonight - it's a Thursday so most people will be too tired to stay late, but the ones who do will be in until well past midnight. He'll just slip back in around nine at night, return the files, and then hopefully be out again before eleven. It's not foolproof, but it's the best he'll likely be able to do, and any further delay will only be increasing the risk of being caught.

He calls Kevin and Jennifer after work to inform them, and only gets two terse "good luck"s. Less encouraging that he'd perhaps hoped, but also entirely fair - he'd likely say the same in their situation.

He takes the Muggle entrance into the Ministry when he returns that night - no getting around that one, though if anyone sees him or asks after it the next day (on the off chance this entrance records who uses it and when) he can easily say he'd forgotten something and simply returned to retrive it. In fact, there is a scarf sitting at his desk that he intends to pick up to legitimize the claim. He takes the lift up to the seventh floor (no telling if this is recorded either - it's the entire reason he needed the stairs, after all) with the intention of walking down to the Archives, putting away the files, then walking back up to grab the scarf and head back down the lift and out through the Muggle entrance once again. It's flimsy and it's dangerous, but it's all Edward has right now and it's better than nothing. Besides, more than likely he won't need the story at all - he's only doing all this for a worst case scenario.

He steps out into the offices and immediately heads to his desk to grab the errant scarf and stuff it into his bag before continuing across the room to the emergency door. So far, so good. He takes the stairs down and props open the Archive door at the bottom, which lets out right next to the front desk, which is unmanned. Edward had expected as much, though: the Archives are closed down at eight o'clock in the evening without fail every day. It's something he'd taken note of early on, and it's certainly helped him put together this half-baked attempt at stealth. He quickly moves past the desk and into the depths of the Archives, pulling the stolen files out of his bag as he goes. He roughly knows where each should be returned to, but it's going to take time to walk through the winding paths between the shelves so he needs to be as efficient as possible.

He'd already ordered the files inside his bag according to their location and content, so it's not hard to grab the ones he needs as he reaches their original points of origin and push them back into filing cabinets (or onto shelves in the older areas). It takes him a while, and he can admit he jumps nervously at every noise, but no one comes across him and he empties his bag and makes his way back to the propped door with no apparent sighting. He quietly closes the stairway door behind him and begins the nine floor trek back up to the offices so he can take the lift back down and complete his cover story.

Of course, it's only when he reaches the top, slightly out of breath (he needs to start up his workout routine again, he's obviously been slacking) that things start going wrong.

"Oh, Edward. I don't think we heard you come in."

.

Edward puts on his most convincingly tired smile. "Oh, Mr. Lopatkina-Paluch, I didn't realize anyone else was here." When caught be as honest as possible - it will keep your story straighter than if you try to lie too much. "Who's your friend?"

Because just his luck, Lopatkina-Paluch isn't even alone. Another man is standing with him, looking on with idle curiosity and poorly concealed amusement.

"Hugo Longbottom." He introduces himself. "You must be Edward Clark - I've heard about you through the grapevine. You're the only person who's actually stuck out calling Finn by his last past a month, so congrats on that."

Edward shrugs. "I'm used to..." He probably shouldn't say 'a bit more professionalism, but it's the truth.

Longbottom laughs. "I get you - we call most other people by their last names, too, this guy's is just a bit too much of a mouthful."

"Hugo and I were going over a few final plans for our presentation to Department Head Potter tomorrow in regards to the future direction of the Hunters." Lopatkina-Paluch says smoothly. "He may be working with us more closely in the future."

"I was in charge of the group trying to hunt down the people who actually engaged in the Incident." Longbottom adds. "We're going to be combining forces from the looks of it, if all goes well tomorrow."

"Well, best of luck. I certainly would be disappointed to be leaving so soon." Edward replies uncertainly. Is he really going to get away with not telling them why he's here?

Apparently yes, which only makes Edward suspicious. Lopatkina-Paluch isn't as good as his legendary status would have you believe, but he's still good. It's possible he's not raising a fuss because of Longbottom's presence, but Edward feels twitchy the entire lift ride back down to the Atrium. He'll have to report to his superiors and keep an extra low-profile for the foreseeable future - he may have just put himself on a time limit.

This was definitely not how he was hoping this night would end.

Author's Note: I mentioned it before, but I was worried this chapter wouldn't be able to make 5k. *eyes the over 9.5k  wordcount* Obviously I should not have underestimated Edward's stealth mission xD We also meet two more pretty important people who have been added to the staff page! They aren't even late additions - Hugo in particular really should have been up there earlier ^^'' But hey, they're there now! :D