21st December, 1888 — Crouch's Office
Aldous Crouch

Between the extraordinary summer they’d lived through and the contradictory, confusing reports of those who had gone on the expedition to Irvingly during the fog, Lena couldn’t imagine there was a single person in her department that was not itching to be the first to explain everything that had happened satisfactorily. Not one of the adventurers were able to say where they had been for a full month and neither could any of them account for more than a few hours of the trip after they had disembarked from the train. Even the small number that had seen it through to the very end could offer little more than a maze-like pyramid interior where the casino ought to have been but they only accounted for a few hours more at most.

It wasn’t enough to explain the rest away. It was all very well to say that this nameless Egyptian witch had manipulated time but based on every principle of magic Lena understood that was simply impossible. No one ought to be able to harness time like that.

The changing décor of the casino building was a puzzle in and of itself, but Lena’s interests lay firmly in the realm of time and, though she could hardly discuss it with anybody outside the department, she had spent almost every day since the middle of September in the Time Room. Nobody had stopped her. It was rare that any member of her department asked what any of their colleagues were doing – they were far too busy with their own affairs to wonder at anybody else’s. She suspected even Mulciber’s occasional checking in was only because it was absolutely necessary rather than him feeling especially comfortable with supervising any of them.

Marlena slipped past the man himself as she strode into the rotating room and from there into the corridors. She’d had a notion on her mind for some time now and she had finally managed to organise a meeting with the man she needed, but she was yet to decide how to broach the subject without giving too much away.

Mr Crouch was far from an idiot. He did have a secretary that was eying her suspiciously but that was hardly an indicator of his intellect or character so Lena ignored the girl and waited to be summoned. When she was she was still none the wiser as to how to do this subtly.

“Thank you for seeing me, Mr Crouch. I was wondering if you’ve had any contact with the Egyptian Ministry of late?”

Subtlety was vastly overrated.

  

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MJ: still raising the graphics bar as of 2022

It was not often that Unspeakables crossed his path—at least, not professionally—and so Aldous always viewed their arrival with a hint of mistrust and a great deal of skepticism. Whatever it was they did down in their offices seldom seemed to bear any fruit (at least not publicly), and so he wondered if they weren’t better suited to more useful jobs. Still, when he greeted Miss Scamander (what a strange creature, to come from a good family and find herself in such a line of work!) it was with his practiced, diplomatic smile, and Aldous extended an arm to gesture for her to sit down.

“In what capacity, Miss Scamander?” Aldous answered, pleasantly surprised—though no more edified—by her cutting to the chase.

  

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— Aldous walks with a cane and pronounced limp as the result of a splinching accident. —

— graphics by lady ❤ —

“Well,” Marlena began, weighing up the advantages of being honest and quickly coming to the conclusion that just because nobody in her department cared it didn’t mean others wouldn’t concern themselves with what she was being paid to do. “I have a working theory regarding the artifact recovered from Irvingly and I would like permission to perform an experiment or two.”

She had thirteen lined up but that didn’t seem overly relevant. “Would they allow it do you think?” Would Mr Crouch? In all likelihood she would have to convince him before she convinced the Egyptians and she knew little enough of his disposition that it was a distinctly unknown variable.

  

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MJ: still raising the graphics bar as of 2022

An experiment. Of course.

“I can, of course, extend the inquiry,” he returned. In Aldous’ own opinion, the Irvingly device was something best left un-meddled with. It had caused a great deal of chaos, and the wizard could not see what could be gained from provoking it further. Unfortunately, it was not his place to deny Miss Scamander outright; in this instance, he could be a messenger and nothing more.

That didn’t mean he had to encourage her, though.

“My counterpart in Egypt, I am sure, fields a number of such requests, given the country’s magical history,” the department head continued, still every bit the diplomat, though the fingers of one hand drummed softly on the desktop, belying his discomfort. “I suspect, though, he would be more likely to sanction such a…cooperation if given details, though. Given that you would be, in this case, something of a magical tourist.”

  

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— Aldous walks with a cane and pronounced limp as the result of a splinching accident. —

— graphics by lady ❤ —

A muscle in Lena’s face twitched as she considered how much of her work she would be willing to disclose to some as-yet-unknown member of the Egyptian Ministry. They were a notoriously secretive bunch, unsurprising given the millennia of secrets they were the wardens of, but she had hoped that a sort of professional courtesy of non-disclosure might exist between the Department of Mysteries and a Ministry as devoted to being mysterious as any could possibly be.

“I see,” she muttered grimly. She had been naive. Now they had reclaimed their artefact they were unlikely to let it out of the clutches again: it was frustrating, but understandable. She certainly wouldn't if the roles were reversed.

“It’s the policy of our Department not to discuss the work undertaken with anybody,” she said needlessly, he knew the way of things at the Ministry as well as she did. She carried on emphatically, leaning onto his desk. “I truly do feel as though I might be able to make a breakthrough...the sort that might be able to save lives, or change them for the better.”

Aldous Crouch

  

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MJ: still raising the graphics bar as of 2022

"I believe I understand your feelings, Miss Scrimgeour," Aldous returned, not unkindly, "but I am certain I understand the feelings of my Egyptian counterpart. I do not mean to discourage you—" that was a lie; he completely and utterly did "—and do not like to disappoint my Ministry brothers—or sisters—but I do not think it would do any sort of service to fill you with false hope."

His words were accompanied by an apologetic smile, more strained than usual given his discomfort at her newfound proximity. This, Aldous thought, was the trouble with women in such positions: they became too sure of themselves, bore a confidence that even Aldous himself had the good sense to lack. Under any other circumstance, he thought, Miss Scamander would not have seemed at all formidable, but in this moment he felt rather like he was staring down an erumpant: docile, but volatile.

  

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— Aldous walks with a cane and pronounced limp as the result of a splinching accident. —

— graphics by lady ❤ —

Marlena had worked at the Ministry for long enough to know when she was being condescended to – he might be more polite about it than most of the men who worked alongside her but nevertheless she suspected Mr Crouch was, like so many others, determined to stand in the way of her research. Apparently the world simply wasn’t ready for her to experiment with time travel.

She was beginning to understand why this Egyptian witch had felt the need to curse those around her.

“At least you’re honest I suppose,” Marlena muttered, rather more annoyed with herself for going through formal channels rather than leaning on her own contacts to obtain information in a more reliable way. Was it not better to ask forgiveness than beg permission? She wouldn’t make the mistake again. “I’m sorry to have taken up your time.”

She got to her feet, smoothing down her robe before letting out a short laugh.

“Given the chance I might have been able to get your time back.”

  

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MJ: still raising the graphics bar as of 2022

A small smile accompanied his words as he offered, "Not at all, Miss Scamander. I will, of course, let you know when I have heard back from the appropriate authorities."

Of course, there was little doubt in Aldous' mind—and a great deal of hope, too—that it would be a resounding 'No'.

  

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— Aldous walks with a cane and pronounced limp as the result of a splinching accident. —

— graphics by lady ❤ —