June 20th, 1888 — Minister's Office
Justin Ross

There was not jut one reason to visit the Minister's Office, but there was one at the forefront of his mind: that goddamn letter that had rubbed him the wrong way. The warning to stay away made two things clear to him: (1) it was going to be a whole lot harder to see Miss Lynch if he didn't get this handed, and (2) the Minister was completely willing to pry into matters of his personal life. As a mere auror, such things hadn't been on his mind; he hadn't been politically relevant. With his promotion, though, things were apparently different.

And not in a good way.

Though it was the most bothersome matter on his mind, it was far from the most pressing, especially from a work perspective. Hogsmeade was up in metaphorical flames of chaos, but with the village's luck over the past few years it was only a matter of time before those flames became literal. He'd entered the office once given permission, quickly placing the stack of folders on the Minister's desk so they wouldn't fall of his arms.

"I'm sure you've heard by now," he grunted, struggling to organize the files as necessary. "but there's been a death in Wellingtonshire. Woman, late sixties, widowed—and wealthy. Fog-related, too."

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"Investigation Office got to me first. Autopsy shows she was struck by a speeding carriage," Ross said, since, apparently, they were getting straight to business. His own office was acting as a sort of base for fog-related matters - files were spread across his desk, news clippings, updates and memos and complaint letters. He had a meeting with the head of the Portkey Office in thirty minutes. He had actually gotten an extra five minutes to shave this morning, but sleep was another matter entirely. How had Balt Urquart survived the plague?

"We'll be sending our condolences to the family," Ross added. His assistant was working on it already. "Any leads yet?"

It would be simple enough, to find out which Wellingtonshire families had left on the seventeenth, and which had called carriages. They were using public floo networks. Really, Ross figured, it was a process of elimination.

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He thought back to the leads the office had gone over this morning.

"It was a fairly large carriage," he said after a momentary pause. "And the family it belonged to was obviously stuck in Wellingtonshire. It was most likely an accidental hit—but we highly doubt they didn't realize she was hit," he explained. There was enough chaos at the moment; they didn't need people believing there were wild carriage-drivers targeting innocent bystanders.

"Even if they are caught, though, though'll have a good defense. The fog's effects remain unknown to a degree—obviously—but if the carriage had hidden magical properties, it could have malfunctioned on a turn. That's what half the office thinks happened," he managed.

"And if that's the case, it could only cause more questions and more panic."

That's what it really was at the moment, right? Controlling public opinion so nobody rioted in the streets?

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"Magical carriages would have stopped functioning when the fog hit, and Mrs. Whitledge was last spotted after," Ross said, raising his eyebrows at Mr. Umbridge, "Unless this Wellingtonshire family is willing to argue with experts from five different Ministry departments, that's no defense." Ross was no lawyer, but he'd worked in MLE long enough to know how lawyers worked perfectly well, and was not in the mood to indulge impossible hypotheticals.

"And whether they go to prison or are simply fined, that's no reason not to investigate," he added, unamused by this conversation so far. MLE wasn't responsible for public opinion - public information services was, and they were handling the fog as well as could be expected.

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Edric took a breath and cast an uncertain glance towards the Minister.

"They are investigating, Minister," he said after a moment. Why wouldn't they be? A death was a death, but he had to know there were more repercussions than just that, especially in regards to the entire situation at hand. "I've been down there; there are people in panic—no magic, some away from their families." His tone had softened, but mostly because he could hear the irritation in the other man's tone.

"If riots start up, my job—all the aurors' jobs—are about to get a whole lot more difficult." It wasn't really a matter of what the public believed the Ministry was doing, but rather what the public believed the Ministry wasn't doing. There was another point, too: "The crime in the slums and Pennyworth is getting too much for the constabulary to handle without the use of magic. We'll need to send someone down there, whether they be aurors or others trained to handle the situation."

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"I started working in your department when you were barely a teenager, Mr. Umbridge," Ross said. Despite the content of his sentence, Ross' tone still held the usual cheer - the only sign of Danger, Will Robinson! was in the arch of his eyebrows. He removed his reading glasses. "Do not presume that I am unfamiliar with the danger of riots, or ignoring the possibility."

Mr. Umbridge's job was to run the Auror Office - not the entire department, and not the Ministry.

"You also forget that the constabulary is better trained to work without magic than many aurors," Ross said, "Believe me that everyone is aware of the spike in crime, and the risk. There are more Ministry employees on the ground in Hogsmeade than there have been since the plague."

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While the Minister's tone was without condescension, the same could not be said for the words. His words suggested that Edric was a youth by comparison—something that he might have scoffed at, if not for the obvious different in rank. "And I supported your ministerial bid because of your experience, Minister," he responded. His voice then lowered ever-so-slightly. "But I am no child in comparison—not by age, nor by experience in times of crisis. I would very much like to prevent conflict before it is unavoidable."

That had always been his strategy on the field, and surely the Minister knew as much by now. He had little to bicker at this point in time, not when he'd come here with intention to address an issue that the Minister might find more... contentious. Perhaps being more agreeable—even against his better judgment—would make things easier.

"You are the Minister of Magic, which makes your goals my goals. I need to know what priorities you would like my office to put a focus on." He took a step back, hoping to lessen the tension in the room.

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Ross eased back in his chair, confident that he had made his point, and, ultimately, confident in Umbridge's assessment. He had never doubted Umbridge's qualifications - this was why he'd gotten the promotion - but with the current stress of the fog, and the February Lynch debacle hanging over their heads, his confidence was lessened.

"The fog is almost certainly of dark magical origin," he said, "I'd like you to - quietly - assign one or two aurors to compile a list of who, if anyone, in-country, could have produced such a spell." It was not going to be a very long list. Ross knew that it was possible that the fog was of foreign origin, but wanted to avoid going down that route until they had conclusively ruled out other means.

"Our other large concern is having a significant, visible presence in the affected community," Ross said, "I don't want to further increase the auror presence in Irvingly and Hogsmeade at this time, but we should ensure that those who are there are in Ministry robes, helping old witches cross the street, whatever."

"...And you may want to arm them with garlic," Ross added, "Whether it's a valid concern or not, vampire attacks are a significant risk in a town without magic." It didn't help that Hogsmeade abutted the Forbidden Forest.

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   Edric Umbridge

Edric began taking a mental list, though the Minister's assertion left him with more questions than answers. Clearly he'd been out of the loop with some things, which was to be assumed since he'd spent half the month as a regular auror. What sort of dark magic would create magic-inhibiting fog?

And more importantly: what would the end goal be with such a plan?

"Dark magic?" he questioned. "You don't think this has anything to do with the planned festival, do you?" he asked quietly. It was easy to monitor formerly-convicted dark wizards; carnies, however, were a different story. He could have his own theories all he wanted, but the only ones he could act on were the ones the Minister—and therefore his department—desired to focus on.

He only offered a nod at the second request. He didn't think having an extreme presence in either village was good for appearances—Merlin knows what some cautious old woman would assume if aurors were roaming her neighborhood. They wanted to keep things as normal-looking as possible, even if it was dark magic.

"What about werewolves?" he asked suddenly, his eyes moving to the Minister's. "Does the nature of the fog suggest that... they'd be affected?" That was obviously something that would be left to the Werewolf Capture Unit, but it was definitely something that would prove useful to know—especially if aurors were in the area on the night of the full moon. Vampires had not been affected, but nothing of them required the moon's visibility.

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"Unlikely," Ross said, but didn't elaborate. He'd gone through this with others beforehand, after all - and the auror's office ought to be most concerned with things under their jurisdiction.

"Mrs. Skeeter and I do not believe so," he added, a gentle reminder of jurisdiction once again. "The nature of the fog may change things later, but -" he shrugged "- if there's a full moon, they're going to transform."

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Edric was not content with that answer, but it seemed he was going to have to be. Minister Ross' tone gave him no hope that he might be able to pry any information out of him. Perhaps he'd accost the junior assistant later, or perhaps he'd see what information he could weed out from the members of the investigative team.

"Thank you for the updates," he said under his breath, almost as if his mind was elsewhere. He'd have to figure out the entirety of the situation one of these days, even if it mean heading into it by himself.

He backed towards the door as if hinting that he was about to leave, but made no run for the door—not yet.

"If you have any immediate need of me," he said. "you'll know where to find me." There was still the issue of Miss Lynch he wanted to tackle, but he wasn't sure if this was the place, especially with how tense everyone seemed at the moment. Going behind his boss' back wasn't ideal, but neither was abandoning his new lover.

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Umbridge was making an exit, except for that he wasn't. Ross rose an eyebrow, and decided to bite at the proverbial elephant in the room. Namely, the issue with Miss Lynch, and of Ministry journalistic policy.

"We don't comment on scandals to the press," Ross said, going so far as to use the royal we. "Especially not in our capacity as Ministry officials. It gives them credence. And it becomes not Mr. Umbridge stands with Miss Lynch, but the Ministry stands with Miss Lynch."

It was inappropriate at best; an abuse of power at worse.

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Edric had not expected the Minister to bring up the subject of Miss Lynch, but in the moment he realized that he should have. While the truth of the situation—namely, February's motives that night—were obvious to him, he understood how awful it looked from a press perspective.

"It was not my intention to cause you any trouble," he commented quietly, unsure of whether he should push the matter. He wasn't sure whether the Ministry would have made any official comment anyhow; it was likely that they would have not, given their policy on scandals. "It was only a scandal because the gossip mills made it so," he spoke, his gaze moving anywhere that wasn't the Minister. "It's a shame to see a poor girl's reputation suffer because she was trying to do the noble thing."

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"Things not being scandalous until people pay attention is, perhaps, the nature of scandal," Ross said mildly. No matter how Umbridge wanted to look at it, the Head Auror in the hospital with a girl in her nightgown was a press disaster. His having commented on it made it, if anything, more of a disaster. "The nature of your new position is a - prominent one. You must be able to ignore issues that are not directly your purview."

"And you certainly cannot call reporters criminal, regardless of how upset you are."

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Edric remained silent as he listened, trying to disregard - momentarily - his feelings for Miss Lynch and look at this purely from his boss' perspective. Even if the events leading up to their hospital misadventure that night had been innocent enough, what subsequently followed had looked awful - and even more awful since he'd commented on it.

"Forgive me, sir. I will do better," he apologized quietly. He still didn't intend on ceasing contact with Miss Lynch, but he supposed - at least for the time being - that he'd have to do it quietly and out of the public eye.

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