April 30th, 1888 — Ministry of Magic Complaints Office, Irvingly

It had been a fortnight since the incident with what Atticus now knew to have been called a 'fire crab'. His injuries (physical and to his pride) had since been tended to, but apparently as the key muggle witness to the incident—an incident to which he was a party—someone from the appropriate branch of magical government needed to speak to him about it. Belladonna had reassured her anxious brother over and over again that it was nothing, that they would not erase his memories of the event, but it was still with apprehension that the muggle made his way, just after lunch, to the local Complaints Office for what he imagined to be some sort of interrogation.

"Good afternoon. I'm looking for a Mr. Percival Adlard—I was directed to meet him here," he expressed to the secretary with a smile he hoped did not betray his nerves. With a smile of her own, she directed him to a small office, where Atticus entered the open door to find, he assumed, the wizard in question.

"Atticus Sharpe," he offered by way of greeting. "I do believe I am your two o'clock appointment."

@"Percival Adlard Jr."

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When initial plans had been made for the Zoological gardens in Irvingly Percy had had his doubts. Still the plans had gone forward in the combined magical muggle community. Percy supposed it was only a matter of time until such a case came up on his desk. The incident had happened two weeks ago and Percy had received a debriefing already on the escaped fire crab but he was still directed to question the muggle involved in the incident. Since he was a member of the Irvingly community exceptions had been made to the rules and Percy was not to oblivate the man's memory in a sign of goodwill between the two co-existing communities. He could appreciate the sentiments behind such orders.

The day itself had been relatively quiet and flooing to the Irvingly Branch had been merely a matter of stepping into the fireplace of his London office and arriving in this one. He had just taken his seat when the man in question entered into the room.

"Good afternoon Mr. Sharpe. Please, do take a seat." Percy gestured to the chair on the opposite of the desk. "Would you like some water before we begin?" He was trying to be polite and the gentleman did seem a bit.... skittish. Not exactly what Percy expected of a man well aware of magic around him.

  

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“I’m fine, but thank you all the same,” came the good-natured reply as the muggle moved to take the proffered seat. While Atticus had, in past, dealt with the local constabulary, this sort of formalized interview was altogether a new experience for him. He would have been lying to say he was not at least a little bit nervous about it.

From a place of logic, Atticus had done nothing wrong and so had nothing at all to fear. They were hardly going to lock him in a cupboard with another fire crab! Still, there was the young lady to…not protect, but not to land in the thick of it, and his constantly avoided but constantly present shred of unease around unfamiliar magic folk. Nervously, he fingered the brim of the hat resting in his lap.

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With a nod of his head Percy allowed the niceties to die off. He preferred being in the field to doing this sort of follow up. When he had first started with the department he had found such situations uncomfortable but after a decade of doing the same thing one could only really get use to such interviews and conversations.

“Shall we begin then?” Percy gave the man a polite smile hoping to set him at ease. Likely that wouldn’t happen until the meeting had ended though. Without waiting for an answer he plunged forward, better to get this over with for both their sakes. “Can you tell me what happened, with as many details as you can remember, on the sixteenth of April this year?” Out of consideration for the muggle and Irvingly’s rules Percy held a quill at ready to jot down any additional notes he might need. Typically he would allow the quill to subscribe the interview of its own accord, but today he’d make an exception. Poor gentleman seemed startled enough as it were.

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   Atticus Sharpe

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Atticus nodded, clearing his throat before beginning.

"I was attending the Podmore Zoological Gardens—the muggle side, as mandated by law—when I came across what I know now to be a fire crab." As he spoke, the man wondered how much detail was really required. The position of the sun? The fact that there was a light breeze? Surely Mr. Adlard spoke hyperbolicly when he said as much detail as Atticus could remember.

"Having never seen such a creature before, I understandably froze. I called to a young lady who worked there for assistance, and she did her best to talk me through the situation, but in the end, I ran afoul of the beast nonetheless, and received some burns and a trip to the Infirmary for my troubles."

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What I know now to be a fire crab. What had the muggle thought it to be when he first stumbled on the awkward looking creature, Percy couldn’t help but wonder. He almost wished he could have been there to see the man’s face. The man did seem rather nervous and Percy could almost imagine the scene that might have unfolded.

Ah, he had frozen. That made sense given the situation. However, after this statement the man seemed to speed through his telling and skimmed over details that could have helped. “How did you run afoul of the creature?” He’d start there and move on to details in a few questions once the man had relaxed a bit.

  

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Atticus paused for a moment as he considered his response, though was not keen to relieve that particular misadventure. It had all happened so quickly, and the innkeep could not pinpoint what it was, in particular, that had prompted the creature's ire.

"I simply suppose I moved in a way it disliked, or offended it by simply existing," the man offered with a shrug. "I am not an expert on these creatures, Mr. Adlard, as you may have surmised."

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“Quite understandable Mr. Sharpe.” Percy replied smoothly, a slight irritation at the man’s misinterpretation of his question had even occured. But he had to remember the man really didn’t know much about magic other than it existed, or at least that was Percy’s summarization of Irvingly’s muggle residents. “Perhaps you can tell me of the injuries you recieved?” He tried again.

  

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"A keen burn to my forearm," he reported diligently, "though all ill-effects of it were seen to by Healer Trelawney at the Infirmary, so you would not know to look at it. My pride was also rather battered in the affair, as you might guess," Atticus added with a chuckle, "but I suspect that is not the sort of thing your report would generally include."

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Percy nodded, jotting down what he already knew of the man's injuries. The gentleman continued and Percy looked up with a sympathetic smile. "No, it generally is not. But a firecrab is a formidable enough creature."

A few more details and he'd be able to let the poor man go, although he did seem to be relaxing a bit with the turn of conversation. "And you mentioned a," Percy paused and looked at the report he had been given, "Miss Evans, intervened?"

  

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"Yes, Miss Evans," he affirmed. Would the witch who had saved him get into trouble for his being in harm's way to begin with? That she worked at the zoo, surely, should not damn her, especially when she had done all in her power to get him out of there. Perhaps if he did not elaborate, Atticus thought, it would lesson the intensity with which this Ministry of Magic would examine her.

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Percy nodded the answer confirmed. One last question just to make sure all reports were right and he felt he'd be confident in his work for the day. "And how did she intervene. Can you tell me anything she did to help?" He asked kindly a neutral smile on his face. They had already questioned Miss Evans and she was not at all to blame, he just needed to make sure the details all lined up. Hopefully the muggle would have remembered enough that even if he didn't know what she had done he could match the two accounts.

  

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The question struck him as odd. With an angry fire turtle involved, how many ways could one intervene?

“Why, with magic, Mr. Adlard,” Atticus replied, his confusion evident in his tone. He did not know enough about the subject—sister, nieces, nephew, and neighbours or not—to offer any further explanation. She had been a witch, and that witchy prowess had saved him from an even worse fate.

  

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Why, with magic. Well yes. But what kind, color, words that were said? It was clear that little else would come from this meeting. “I think that will be all. Thank you Mr. Sharpe. You have been very helpful.” Well not exactly, but the man seemed of a nervous enough temperament that he wasn’t about to mention that. “You are free to go.” He nodded toward the door, resisting the urge to rub his temples in frustration.

  

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Atticus let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, and hesitated a moment before standing, as if not entirely believing Mr. Adlard. Though the man had long considered himself one who got along easily with strangers, the formality of the situation had rendered him more uneasy than he had expected.

"Good day," he extended politely before departing, relieved when finally he stepped out again onto Irvingly's familiar cobbles.

  

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