Circe knew it was too much to ask, to go one year without the weight of dozens of deaths landing on her department. That was, quite literally, what the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes existed for. Curses and attacks, explosions and miscasts, if lives weren't at risk Circe Locket was out of a job. That didn't mean she enjoyed the chaos which made up much of her career.
She had just finished barking orders at some of her Department's more frazzled newcomers when a familiar figure ducked into the tent. Leaving no time-- nor space-- for the owl-eyed subordinate to answer, Circe cut across the tent to join the Minister.
"That is still true, yes," she answered, as polite as she could be without wasting either of their time. "It seems to have stopped in Salem Square. So far we've no clues as to the cause," nor idea of what may have become of the many villagers caught within. It was simply too great a risk to send their people in until they could protect themselves effectively.
She had just finished barking orders at some of her Department's more frazzled newcomers when a familiar figure ducked into the tent. Leaving no time-- nor space-- for the owl-eyed subordinate to answer, Circe cut across the tent to join the Minister.
"That is still true, yes," she answered, as polite as she could be without wasting either of their time. "It seems to have stopped in Salem Square. So far we've no clues as to the cause," nor idea of what may have become of the many villagers caught within. It was simply too great a risk to send their people in until they could protect themselves effectively.
Ozymandias Dempsey