Month 6th, 1889 — Murdocks Office

Murdock was sitting behind his desk barely cognizant of what he was doing. It had been a long few days, and the full moon was tomorrow so his skin felt itchy and too tight. He couldn't wait until his shift was over and he could fluu back to his home, kiss his girls and enjoy a hearty dinner before they went up to London in the morning - to be kept safe during the running. His secretary had deposited a stack of envelopes on his desk, the stack of thick white papers was calling for him to sort through. The first few were boring, information requests from other ministries on criminals they believed to be living in the UK, a few letters from families asking for updates on cases that had not progressed particularly well. There were more of those than Murdock was proud of.

The last letter - it was more of a package, thick card stock and block printed text. The oddness of the package barely registered with murdock until after his finger had pressed into the seal and flipped it open. As the envelope opened a mailstrom expelled into his office. A thick sticky substances spewed forth, covering the head of magical law enforcement from head to toe, just as he caught his breath and prepared to shout for his assistant a snow storm of feathers flew out of the envelope. Without the risk of making the whole situation worse Murdock had no choice but to sit at his desk and wait for the snow storm to finish.

At the end of several long minutes Murdock found himself covered from head to toe in a mixture of white, brown and red chicken feathers. The sticky adhesive substance had welded shut his pockets and he was unable to reach his wand. 'Miss Mulroony!' he yelled for his assistant but then noting the time realise she had probably gone to lunch.

Stiff legged, and leaving a trail of feathers in his wake, he ventured into the hallway in search of someone - anyone to help.

  

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MJ is a National Treasure

Sometimes, Iziza hated being an intern. A female intern in an office full of men. She just had a whole list of traits that put her on the to not be taken seriously list. Intern. Female. Young. Half-breed. Working-class. She wasn't sure which was worse - female or half-breed. Probably half-breed. It didn't matter that she had just as much schooling as anyone else in the department, if not more. No one took her seriously. Sometimes she missed her stint in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. (Even if she didn't like the name. The name made her feel like they were no better than the dogs they trained to sit and do tricks. She would have far more preferred a name like the Department for the Co-Operation of Wizards and Magical Creatures or something of the sort. She had like Skeeter though.)

Still, her annoyance at her co-worker's prejudice drove her only to work harder. She had to work twice as hard just to get the recognization Mr. Whitledge got for half the work she did. It almost made her hate him. He was the exact opposite of her. The only thing they shared was a title. He was male - obviously, fully human, upper-class. He was technically younger than her, even if just by a few months. But even on even standing of age and title, he got more respect from the get got than she typically did at any point. It was enough to hate him, even if none of it was his fault.

But the drive to prove herself found her often skipping her lunch breaks (it saved money as well, not needing to buy food) and that was what she was doing when she nearly ran into the head of the department... covered in... feathers? And she thought if she wanted to be specific, chicken feathers?

"Pardon sir, are you okay?" the half-goblin inquired quickly, shifting her papers to one side, showing no hesitancy in talking to the head, even though she'd never really spoken to him before. If she was to get credit for one thing and one thing only, it was that she did not struggle to speak or stand tall. She would fight to make herself heard if need be.

  

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iziza is a half-goblin, meaning she is quite short. your character might not know why but they will notice her height and white hair that marks her as such.

As the intern spoke to him Murdock turned his head to fix her with slightly withering look. there was a touch of humour in his face, but the slightly obvious nature of her question should have answered itself based on his current appearance.

'Do you Miss...with your completed Hogwarts education, and the excpetional intelligence needed to work here....really believe that I, the head of Magicla Law enforcement for these british isles, would be inclined to walk around their place of employment covered from head to to in what apears to be burnt honey' he gave a disdainful sniff as his nose recognised the sickly sweet smell of the burnt substance, 'and chicken feathers'. He gave a shudder, and a shower of chicken feathers fell from his shoulders and head.

But he allowed a smile to show that he was, for the most part, making fun of her. 'I can't reach my wand...' he finished lamely, and indicated that his pockets were covered in the sticky substances and feathers, and he was holding his arms out from his body so as to minimise the amount of cross contamination, giving him the look of a slightly broken marionette. 'and I could really do with a cleansing charm.'

Iziza Noel

  

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MJ is a National Treasure

"Pardon sir," she started, face falling flat, "but I meant are you okay, not if you need help. If you were injured in... whatever lead to honey and chicken feathers." But he seemed fine, if he could bother to take the time to deliver what seemed to be a backhanded commentary.  Which, honestly, it wasn't, but Izzy was already in a mood from something that had happened earlier in the day.

At which she took a deep breath, gritted her teeth, and bent her head. "Apologies for my temper, sir. I have not had the bestest of morning but it was unfair to take it out on you when you did nothing. Here."

If he wanted a cleaning charm, she could deliver. It, was, after all, a simple enough spell with her level of education. "Scourgify!" Iziza spoke, pointing her free hand at the head, hoping it would rid him of well, looking like he'd run through a farm.

  

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iziza is a half-goblin, meaning she is quite short. your character might not know why but they will notice her height and white hair that marks her as such.

Murdocks feelings on Miss Noels position in his department were a little torn. She had good grades, exceptional even - better than many of the other junior members of his department- but that didn't change the fact that she was a woman, and a young one at that. And...well there was the awkward matter of her parentage. It should have struck Murdock as being hypocritical to look down on her for her halfbreed status when he himself had blood that would be considered 'tainted' by most other wizards. Indeed most would consider his position to be more tenuous than hers - and still - it didnt stop him from viewing her with something like sceptacism. He had to wonder at the sort of woman her mother must be to have mated with a goblin, but still her work output, it had to be admitted was as good as he had any right to expect.

When Ms. Noel had managed to scourigfy him he gave a little shudder, thankful that there was no longer a thick trail of honey dripping down the back of his neck. 'Ugh' he said with disgust, and absently wiped the back of his, now clean neck. Taking a moment to gather what decorum he could manage he indicated that she should follow him back into his office.

His office was a snow storm of feathers and sticky honey, which he dispatched with a casual wave of his wand - now that it was accessible to him. 'That' he indicated the offending envelope, 'is the cause of this mess.' he explained. 'No idea who it is from however.' his thick scottish brogue seemed bellowing even though he was just speaking, 'a present from someone unhappy with our work no doubt.'

Iziza Noel

  

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MJ is a National Treasure

She hesitated for a moment before following Mr Greyback into his office, setting her stack of papers down on the corner of an empty desk in the lobby. It was a struggle not to stare open-mouthed at the state of his office when she did follow before he rid it of the mess. She should have guessed by the state the head was in that his office would be just as bad but some how it hadn't crossed her mind yet.

"If someone is displeased that seems to be a petty way to display their displeasure. It was something that would be so swiftly cleaned up and brushed aside - why wouldn't they do something else. Are you sure there were not any other spells on the package?"

She frowned, approaching the package suspiciously like she thought it might leap out and bite her or something. She couldn't discount that it would. Magic could do weird things sometimes. Look at howlers. At least it wasn't a howler. Those nasty things gave her a headache that lasted all day.

Still, she reached out with her wand (while she may have been comfortable giving a charming charm without her wand, if this thing grew teeth and snapped at her or who knows what else, she'd far rather have a wand between her and it than just her hand).

"May the sender could be tracked with Avenseguim," the woman offered, poking the package.

  

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iziza is a half-goblin, meaning she is quite short. your character might not know why but they will notice her height and white hair that marks her as such.

Murdock watched the young lady thoughtfully as she offered her invited opinon on what had occured in his office. She wasn't wrong - he had to give her that.

When she suggested her plan of attack for tracking the sender. Murdock waved a hand towards the letter, inviting the intern to attempt the trace herself - it would seem to be the best way for her to learn. 'You will learn' he explained 'that while petty might be an ineffective way of expressing displeasure it is often the most common way it is expressed.' he gave a heavy sigh and rubbed his forhead.

'In our line of work, sometimes its families we fail to find answers for, the victims we fail to find justice for, or the people we put away who believe they were punished too harshly' he heaved his shoulders heavily 'even the criminals who think we should have caught them.'.

He sat down in his seat, steepling his fingers and watching to see what the curious, half goblin intern would do with this puzzle.

  

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MJ is a National Treasure

When poking the package with her wand proved to spring no more nasty traps, she picked the envelope up, twisting it around in her hands and opening it to peer inside. She shook her head, frowning, but it was obvious her mind was only half on the conversation now that she had a puzzle to work out.

Iziza froze though, and looked up to Murdock. There were criminals that wanted to be caught. That just seemed ridiculous. But, maybe they saw it as a puzzle? Or a game? That she could understand. Testing and prodding to see who had the upper hand. It was unsatisfying when your opponent didn't live up to your own skills. Still, for the rest... She could understand a disliking a system but pulling petty pranks would change nothing.

"That is silly though. It would be far more productive to come in and speak to us, or ask for us to come to them if they could not. In this manner we have no idea who sent the package and what they are displeased about. Nothing will change and we'll go about our days and cases as normal. It is no better than a child throwing a tantrum."

"Do you receive things this petty often? Avenseguim!" Not really fancying the idea of messing up something like this before Mr. Greyback, she choose her wand rather than not to use it. And when the package fluttered out of her hands, she set off after it, not waiting for an answer.

  

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iziza is a half-goblin, meaning she is quite short. your character might not know why but they will notice her height and white hair that marks her as such.

Murdock watched the girl carefully over his steepled fingers, now in teacher mode and eager to allow the new member to consider what they did in the wider context of criminal justice and the magical world.  The whole point of interns was for them to learn.  He let her speak, and then cast her spell before he thought to reply as they paced along the corridor after the spelled letter.



’Generally not this petty’ he admitted as he watched the spell swirl in the air.  ’but to be fair to them, we cannot solve every case. We don’t give every family closure’ he explained, ’and sometimes they think that our investigations, or services will give them closure and when it doesn’t they lash out and its our fault that it doesn’t feel the way they expected it to.’ he explained suddenly feeling the weight of all of his 10 years as an auror, and all of the broken families he had encountered along the way.



’When someone is the victim of a crime something in them is lost, they lose a piece of themselves, like the process of being made a victim chips off some of their peace of mind and they want desperately to make it right again, to reclaim it.  Sometimes they think that when someone is caught, they will feel better, and when it doesn’t, they pin their hopes on the trial, and then the punishment, and when they still feel hollow after all of that they blame us.  Like we didn’t do enough somehow.  It isn’t our fault, and it’s certainly not theirs its just one of those things that happens and no one acknowledges.’ he trailed off thoughtfully, ’no one is the same after they have been touched by a crime.’


’When someone is the victim of a crime something in them is lost, they lose a piece of themselves, like the process of being made a victim chips off some of their peace of mind and they want desperately to make it right again, to reclaim it.  Sometimes they think that when someone is caught, they will feel better, and when it doesn’t, they pin their hopes on the trial, and then the punishment, and when they still feel hollow after all of that they blame us.  Like we didn’t do enough somehow.  It isn’t our fault, and it’s certainly not theirs its just one of those things that happens and no one acknowledges.’ he trailed off thoughtfully, ’no one is the same after they have been touched by a crime.’



He realises that he has drifted off into something of a dreamy soap box, and that after a moment he wasn’t really speaking to her, but rather delivering his thoughts to the air and she just happened to be in the room at the time.  He gave himself a shake, to clear away the cobwebs that settled in during his slightly melancholic monologue. The letter led them as far as the main foyer, where it swirled in ithe air with the other whirl wind of letters where they waited for the owls to take them the rest of the way as it clearly retraced its path through the ministry hallways.

One more and end? I'd no thought as to where this should go)

  

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MJ is a National Treasure