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First names were most often used by childhood or school friends. If the friendship was made after school age, first names would only really be used by women. Men were far more likely to refer to their friends by their surnames, a mark of familiarity. — Documentation

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Emilia Wright for Jude Wright. Casually alienating offspring since 18882.
Separating was also not a great idea, though they weren't doing great at staying together anyway. If she were to volunteer to be the human sacrifice.. well... Hogsmeade had plenty of debutantes anyway...

Barnabas Skeeter in CYOA: Group D

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Complete threads set in ten different forum locations. Threads must have at least ten posts, and three must be your own. Character accounts cannot be combined.


Lost and Found
17th August, 1888 — The Ministry, Department of ???
Of all the things she was delighted by, with the undoing of the fog - Freddie and Miriam coming back from the expedition unscathed topped the list by a mile - getting to come back to work had been almost unreasonably marvellous. She felt almost silly for it: the Ministry might have run as smoothly without her or any of the Welcome Witches at all; they'd hardly have had many visitors during the fog; and probably, no one had so much noticed her absence. Incredible, that days spent at this desk should feel so much a lifeline to her, then - incredible, and verging on the pathetic.

No matter, though: Sarah was in as sunny a mood imaginable two weeks on, beaming at everyone that came in as the Ministry settled back into its usual rhythms, and surveying the Atrium when she had little else to do. In amidst the morning rush, the throngs of people coming in - most of whom she knew by title and by name, and by the way they walked and talked and dressed (and from that, could imagine plenty more) - Sarah caught sight of a wand tumbling from someone's pocket. Her eyes trained on the scene from across the room, she waited for the person behind to tap the wand's owner on the shoulder and alert them to their loss: but no one did, and the owner walked on towards the lifts, the wand unnoticed and unretrieved.

With a quick murmur to her colleague at the desk, Sarah leapt up and wove through the Atrium's traffic until she had scooped up the unfamiliar wand, scanning the place for the person to whom it belonged. They must have already piled into one of the lifts - Sarah slipped into the next one, so that she might return it.

She knew the Ministry from top to bottom, knew who worked where, gave directions all the time, and made a beeline for their department offices almost unthinkingly, only coming to a halt from her quick-march when she saw the door to their office open, and their desk perplexingly deserted. (Perhaps they had not been on their way here after all?)

Sarah had only had the merest second to deliberate on this, before someone cleared their throat behind her, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Being the newly appointed Squad Chief in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Charles Caulfield had a lot on his plate. There was no shortage of work which was made abundantly clear by the obvious shortage of time; he had barely had a chance to see his new office. It was the former Squad Chief’s office which overlooked the rest of the Hit Wizards. Rather a plush little room, Charles had always thought.

He had just come from a small assignment and his schedule was clear. Finally, and thankfully, he could move his belongings (note; excessive amounts of paperwork) into his new office. As he hastily darted through the Atrium and into the lifts, Charles barely noticed his wand drop from his robe pocket. In fact, he hadn’t noticed it at all until he had stepped out of the lifts on his floor. Sighing, he looked around his immediate vicinity not noticing one of the welcome witches pass him as his body twisted as she passed – his eyes far too interested in the floor and whether or not it contained his wand.

It was just his luck, really. Things had been going awfully well so it was no surprise that something would happen – even if that something was him being absent-minded and losing his wand. Of all the things he could have dropped, it had to be his wand. No matter, he shrugged, someone would recognise it as his, he was certain.

He turned toward his office and noticed a woman standing outside of it. Deliberating on something, it looked like. She was staring right into his office as if expecting him to be there.

Not wanting to startle her, Charles walked up behind her and cleared his throat which naturally startled her. Because of course it did. It always did. One day, he mused, he would learn to announce himself properly and not scare someone half to death.

“Sorry, Miss,” Charles said, “and that’s my office you’re staring at,” his tone was quite light-hearted as he moved past her and into his office, “though I haven’t had much of a chance to settle into it yet,” Charles continued as he walked around the room, his eyes examining every little detail of the space.
His motion then came to a halt and his eyes wandered to hers with a questioning look, “Is there something I might help you with?”

Sarah's heart thumped for a ludicrous moment or two after the shock, as she tried to settle her nerves by smiling at the newcomer. Conveniently, too, he was exactly the man she'd been looking for, his wand clasped in her hand down at her side. And at last she knew precisely well why she had been momentarily confused - as he said, this had not been Mr. Caulfield's office until especially recently!

This revelation saw her forget the business of his wand and of his question of help as she followed him into the office, surveying the room - oh, she so rarely got to see people's offices up close, as more than squares on a building map that she pointed to for visitors' sakes; only occasionally did she get to escort them there herself! - although, indeed, he was right in that he hadn't settled in yet; the space was still rather spare.

Still, Sarah smiled broadly at him. "Oh, yes, of course! Congratulations, Mr. Caulfield, sir," she declared: he didn't know her, of course not, but she knew of him well enough from his passing by every day. A hitwizard, one whom she thought had once lived in the slums in Hogsmeade. She knew much less of his personal character - only things she guessed at from a distance - but she was always pleased to see a promotion won, no doubt, by merit and nothing else. "Squad chief! That's rather splendid - as is the office! -" she said, her curiosity spilling out into her chatter. "But it must be a great deal of responsibility. I hope you've been faring well so far?"

The look of bemusement Charles saw as the woman walked into his office, a wide and beaming smile spread across her features, was a look all-too familiar to the Squad Chief. It reminded him of the look his sister gave him a few years ago after he’d manage to save up enough money to buy her a small bag of sweets as a celebration for her entry into Hogwarts. It wasn’t much but it was enough for him to realise he ought to always be thankful for what he had and though the look this woman had on her face was, truthfully, quite different to that – it still reminded him of his place in the world and it was a place he believed he’d never exploit.

“Thank you,” Charles responded politely as his hands traced themselves across the intricacies of his oak desk, his eyes remaining fixed on her. He wasn’t sure entirely what she wanted though he was brought out of his reverie of trying to figure it out when she asked how his job was going. It hadn’t much occurred to him yet that she knew who he was and therefore likely worked in the Ministry. He certainly didn’t recognise her much though the way she was dressed as his eyes examined her assured him that she did indeed work here. In which department, Charles was unsure.

Charles nodded, “A lot more than I’ve been used to though nothing I do not wish for,” he smiled, “Idle hands are Peeves playground, after all.”

The Squad Chief wasn’t entirely sure if that saying went outside of his circle of friends from his time at Hogwarts but he’d stuck with it and found it translated from the original saying quite well. It was a saying he’d learned from his mother and was presumably a muggle saying though it was easy enough to translate and adapt; boredom was bad.

“I do apologise that it’s a bit bare,” Charles chuckled a little and gestured around the room, “Once I find my wand, I have every intention of making this quite a productive worksp—”

It was then that Charles realised how rude and untoward he’d been. Exhaling a little, Charles offered an apologetic smile toward the woman – not noticing the wand (his wand) in her hand, “Oh, Merlin. Forgive me. You know my name and I’ve yet to even ask of yours or properly greet you. It’s a pleasure to see you, Miss….?”

That was how you asked for someone’s name, wasn’t it?

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