3 August, 1893 — Spirit Division, Ministry of Magic

Before the young woman had even rounded the corner to his desk, Ford was already annoyed by the interruption. He could hear her coming because of the sound her shoes made, heels clacking against the tile in the Ministry hallway. He knew she was a visitor because the women who worked at the Ministry sounded different when they walked. He knew this intuitively, from years of experience, without knowing why; maybe they wore smaller, more sensible heels, or maybe they carried themselves differently, or any number of other things. He didn't know, or particularly care. But he could tell from the sound of a woman's heels in the hallway that she was an outsider, and there were very few reasons outsiders came to the Spirit Division. It wasn't the sort of Ministry office that attracted philanthropists looking for new charity efforts, nor was it the sort which regularly issued permits or things to socialites who wanted to import exotic animals or use semi-legal illusions charms for their next party. Society women really only came to the Spirit Division to complain about things, and they were (in Ford's decade of experience, anyway) invariably in the wrong, and utterly in denial about it.

He had real things to do with his afternoon, actual work that he needed to accomplish, but half his coworkers were out on various types of fieldwork, so he knew whatever it was, he'd get stuck dealing with it. He glanced over the paperwork he was currently working through and tried to decide whether he ought to preemptively put it aside, so that he stopped at a logical place and could pick it up more easily when this was through, or whether he ought to keep on — mostly out of spite, to indicate that he had better things to do than wait around and field complaints from socialites. Not that whoever it was would notice whether or not he was in the middle of something. He gave a short sigh and returned his quill to its inkwell, just in time for the woman to enter the division.

"Yes, hello. Can I he — oh," he broke off when he realized he recognized the woman who had entered. "Oh, you've got the wrong floor, Mrs. Lestrange — Games and Sports is up a level."

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Adrienne Lestrange Philomena Sprout

  

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Set by Lady!

Quite a lot of time had passed since her rather…exceptional conversation with one Mr. Barnaby Wye. She’d thought over it for quite some time, mulled over his musings, and — yes — even thought about looking further into the texts that he’d recommended. Proud as she was to claim her French heritage and the sort of free-spirited thinking that they were known for, she was not particularly inclined to indulge in the sort of brazen initiative one would have to don in order to publicly look for the poems. In addition to the poems and texts he’d recommended, Adrienne was now extremely curious as to if ghosts really were prone to this sort of frank, open dialogue. She hadn’t encountered many ghosts before unless they were the Hogwarts ghosts, and she had always thought it rather uncouth to even ask them about their past lives. Mr. Wye’s demeanor told her that might not be true.

Ever the scholar, Adrienne set out to the Ministry to see if that were true. It was just as well, Cash had forgotten his pocket watch that morning and though his valet had offered to pass it onto a courier, Adrienne refused on the spot, deciding to go to the Spirit Division to hopefully seek out some answers.

Which was how she came to find herself — in the Spirit Division…to hopefully seek out some answers.

She blinked at the man, momentarily confused by the redirection before realization dawned. “Oh! No, I’m so sorry Mr. Greengrass —” Please Merlin let that name be the right one. “ —I just meant- er, that is, I’m not lost.” She finished rather lamely. After the effect of being thrown off guard had passed, Adrienne tilted her head. She’d never been in the Spirit Divison offices before. Trying not to look like she was prying too much, Adrienne redirected her attention. “I was actually here in hopes of gaining some…clarity about someone that your offices might have been in contact with.”

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Someone their offices might have been in contact? That was an oddly vague way to approach it. Most people assumed that the Spirit Division was directly responsible for everything undertaken by a dead person, and had nothing to do with anything living people did. Who might they have been in contact with?

"Are you being haunted?" Ford asked doubtfully. He still suspected this might be a complaint, because living people rarely came to the Spirit Division with anything else. If she had a complaint, though, he would really have preferred to have talked to Cash about it. But Cash was probably more reasonable when it came to these things than the average socialite was; maybe she had a complaint and Cash had determined that it wasn't much of a problem.

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Set by Lady!

Haunted? Adrienne blinked. “Oh,” Well, that would be something that a Spirit Division Employee might handle wouldn’t it? Fortunately her reason for visiting the department wasn’t for something as hostile-sounding as that, but now Adrienne found herself wanting to inquire exactly how many people per year came in complaining about being haunted. But no, she had come here for a purpose. It was best to remain on track, and then perhaps ask Cash if he knew anyone who had been haunted recently.

“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” She went on to assure Mr. Greengrass, fluttering her hand in the air to dismiss any worry he might have had. “At least, I don’t believe so; no, he - well he’s a ghost, and erm. Well, he wears what I believe is Elizabethan attire with a short cloak - oh, he’s about this high -” She motioned in the air with her hand until it occurred to her that his height might not matter so much given that he floated above the ground.

“And he has a sword sticking out from his middle.” She winced, as she gestured to her own person. “And he’s…rather frank and direct in his approach to conversational matters.” At this last point she felt herself flush, averting her eyes as she reached back down to fiddle with the reticule in her hand. Lastly: “Oh! Mr. Wye is his name. Barnaby Wye.”

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Ford had a guess as to who she was referring to as soon as she mentioned his clothing. On its own it wasn't distinctive enough to say certainly that she was talking about Barnaby Wye, but if she was here it was probably with a complaint, and Wye did generate more than his fair share of complaints for the spirit division to handle. There were a lot of ghosts in society who spent most of their time minding their own business, either preferring the company of other spirits or only interacting with a core group of living people who already knew and understood them. Some barely spoke to anyone at all; ghosts social calendars didn't necessarily need to be as full as a living person's in order to feel appropriately connected. So Ford had already guessed who she meant, but the description of the sword in his middle really solidified it. He was sighing before she even got the name out.

"Yes," he said wearily. Ford liked Barnaby, genuinely, which was what made it so discouraging when these sorts of complaints came up. He always found it rather tedious to try and balance his professional responsibilities with his personal fondness when he spoke to Wye. If he said something like yes, we can both agree that the limerick you wrote about her is hilarious, but please refrain from singing it where she can hear from now on so you don't get me in trouble with anyone he doubted Wye would take it seriously, so he always had to pretend to be firmly on the side of society with these things. "What's he done this time?"

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Set by Lady!

As she relayed Mr. Wye’s description to Mr. Greengrass, Adrienne didn’t miss how his expression slowly changed from slightly guarded to complete exasperation. In the short time where there was a pause between his reply, Adrienne felt she could venture a guess that a) Mr. Greengrass knew exactly who she was referring to, and b) that it wasn’t a surprise she’d come to him to inquire after this specific ghost.

Fiddling again with the handle on her reticule, Adrienne cocked her head slightly with another wince. Mr. Wye wouldn’t get in terrible trouble if she asked about him, would he? That was the last thing she wanted to do, but she still wanted to ask after him. “Well,” she started, now unsure of how this impromptu meeting would go. “It’s not exactly what he’s done per se.” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth before continuing. “I just had an encounter with him a few months ago that I wanted to ask about. Is he…rather forward when it comes to conversation with…” Women? Strangers? “the Living?”

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She was beating around the bush quite a bit, which Ford supposed he ought to have expected from a society woman. They were specifically trained never to talk about anything that society didn't like to talk about, weren't they? Still, he found it mildly exasperating; it would have saved him some time in triaging the incident if she would have just come straight out and said what it was that had happened.

"Unfortunately, yes," Ford said, sliding his chair back from his desk slightly so that he could reach the bottom drawer. "But forward conversation is not technically an actionable complaint category, so if you could be a bit more specific —" By now Ford had found the piece of parchment he was looking for in the bottom drawer and fished it out, and laid it down on the desk in front of him. It was a standard issue form, replicated by magic, and contained a dense section of line items with empty check boxes besides them. He ran his finger down the list as he read them off one by one, with a quick glance up to Mrs. Lestrange periodically thrown in to see if she would interrupt him. "— did he: threaten physical, mental, or emotional violence? attempt to incite physical, mental, or emotional violence on his behalf? threaten doom of either a specific or generic nature? slander or defame a living person? slander or defame a nonliving person, family genealogy, mythical person, or historical person? tell falsehoods for the purposes of defrauding a living person of funds or otherwise disenfranchising them from their rightful possessions? tell falsehoods for the purpose of causing serious embarrassment to a living person? direct obscene or licentious comments towards a living person? engage in obscene or licentious comments not directed towards a living person but generally considered offensive? attempt to persuade someone to die in order to engage in obscene behavior? attempt to —"

This could go on for some time. It was a rather dense form.

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Set by Lady!

She wasn’t entirely sure what to expect with his answer, so his affirmative still surprised her. “Oh!” She was mulling this over when Mr. Greengrass launched into a survey of sorts, rattling off potential complaints; physical, mental emotional violence, slander or defame, falsehoods for purposes of defrauding, direct obscene or licentious comments towards a living person…

Merde, ghosts really had tried to do all of that to Living beings?

Truthfully she had waited to see if any of those options would fall under a category their conversation could apply to, but she wasn’t entirely looking to lodge a complaint against Mr. Wye. As he occasionally looked up at her she could only stare until he hit those last few and she raised her hand to wave it as gently dismissively as she could. “I’m so sorry, I think I may not have explained myself well, Mr. Greengrasss,” She hurried on. “I’m not searching to lodge a complaint against Mr. Wye, I’ve had run ins with him a few times and…wanted to inquire after him, I suppose.” Hopefully evidence of the ghost (lol) of a smile across her features would convince Mr. Greengrass she wasn’t looking to stir up any trouble.

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   Barnaby Wye

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Ford looked up at her with a thoughtful frown. This was... unexpected, but a much welcome change from the sorts of things he typically had to deal with regarding Barnaby Wye. "Oh," he said, tone relieved, though he still wasn't entirely sure he could trust it. This seemed almost a little too good to be true, and he hadn't entirely discounted the possibility that she may have had some alternative motive for her inquiry.

So it was with hesitation that he replied. "He's — well. Did you, ah, have something you wanted to ask particularly?"

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Set by Lady!

Her reply seemed to be well received. In fact, he looked rather put at ease. Adrienne, however, was felt flustered that she’d managed to make a tangled mess of this interaction so far. She gave it some thought before speaking, hoping to articulate herself more. “Yes, well you had said it wasn’t uncommon for him to be forward when talking to the living.” she recalled. “Is - does he do that with anyone in particular or new people he’s just met?”

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"Is he forward with everyone?" Ford asked, not sure he'd really understood what she was getting at. "Ah, yes, generally. It's a common thing with spirits, though not all to the same extent. Partly it's to do with them being out of their time; manners and customs were often different. Partly it's — well, a lot of ghosts don't particular care whether or not they offend us," he admitted with a shrug. "Since they've been dead longer than we've been alive and they'll probably be here long after we aren't."

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Set by Lady!

So her assumptions that Mr. Wye’s frankness wasn’t a singular occasion were correct. Adrienne had decided she didn’t mind it too much, actually, and Mr. Wye seemed to possess a disposition that would take any form of social correction with good naturedness. At least that’s what she hoped. “So it’s quite usual for ghosts in general to be so open with their thoughts and suggestions and opinions of your life then?” she prodded further.

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Ford didn't know if she meant your life in the sense of the general you, suggestions and opinions of one's life, or if she meant Ford specifically. Barnaby Wye was very open with suggestions and opinions about Ford's life specifically, but that wasn't something he was especially keen to share — particularly given that some of Wye's advice was along the lines of go find yourself a mistress.

He decided to take it as the general you. "Yes," he said with a nod. "Do you — not have much experience with ghosts, then?" He knew most people would answer that they didn't, but it was still incredible to him. She'd gone to Hogwarts, after all, like most of England did — Hogwarts had ghosts in residence that she would surely have met. Ghosts were everywhere in the magical world, but so many people just never paid them any mind. It was quite a departure from Ford's experiences, since he had always gone out of his way to strike up conversations with spirits.

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Set by Lady!

At this confirmation Adrienne was suddenly very curious to know what other things Mr. Wye had said to other people. She gave a light laugh. “Well, I suppose no more than the average person in the magical world?” She ventured. “Obviously Hogwarts has them, and they seem quite frank but I don’t think I’ve ever had one suggest that I —” Realizing what she was about to say, Adrienne snapped her mouth shut immediately, feeling her cheeks flare with heat. “I’ve just never met one who’s so frank as Mr. Wye, is all.” She swallowed, blinking a few times as if that might help her blushing go down considerably.

On second thought. Perhaps she shouldn't be so curious to know what Mr. Wye had said to everyone else.

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Ford did not care for the unfinished sentence.

He bit his lower lip for a moment, weighing whether to ask about it or let it go. He was at work. Getting Barnaby to behave himself was... partly work, partly personal. Ford sighed. "What did he suggest?"

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Set by Lady!