Notice owled to all registration absentees

[yessirrightaway.livejournal.com]

As a courtesy of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, you have received a written notice for violating United Kingdom wand registry regulations.

You are hereby ordered to pay a fine of no less than 500.00 Galleons, which is to be transferred to the Office of Seizure and Compensation within fourteen days of receiving this notice. In addition, you are requested to register your wand personally at the nearest registry station by the deadline set out.

Failure to comply with the terms of this summons will result in legal proceedings, including charges of evasion and conspiracy, which may result in further penalties, arrest, or the forfeiture of your wand.

Signed,
Patricia McGruder
Office for Seizure and Compensation
Department of Magical Law Enforcement
Ministry of Magic, London

Comments

[monalupin.livejournal.com]

*Upon receiving her notice, Mona takes down the contact information and promptly feeds the letter to Gurdie, her pet goat. She sends the following in reply.*

Ms. McGruder,

I should be curious to know exactly how the ministry expects law-abiding dissident citizens to pay such an absurdly exorbitant sum, given the current administration's failure to alleviate economic tensions plaguing us as well as the Muggles. Funny concept of patriotism going on down in London lately. Are we all meant to go rob banks to fund this endeavor of yours?

Mona Lupin
Dissenter (and not a criminal, they really aren't the same thing, you lot should look into that)

[treefeller.livejournal.com]

*Gideon's in the kitchen reheating some leftovers of Molly's, so he's the one to let in the owl and open the letter. He's wearing a mildly curious frown-- the purple parchment signifies a Ministry letter of some kind--but once he opens it, his face twists. As he calls into the next room there's a bit of an edge under the exaggerated casualness.*

Oi, Fabian? I need to borrow some gold.

[rathercareless.livejournal.com]

*He calls back form the living room where he's lying sprawled on the couch, one leg over the back, using his wand to do a crossword puzzle. The paper's suspended in the air above him, and he's scribbling the letters in from a foot away.*

Sure, transfer it from 419 to 419, should be easy enough.

[treefeller.livejournal.com]

See, I was hoping you had it in your pocket.

*He crosses into the living room with a bowl of stew in one hand and the letter in the other, not bothering to sit--standing while eating is an old habit, and he certainly isn't about to break it now. After he tosses the letter carelessly onto Fabian's chest, he takes a bite of stew and speaks with his mouth full.*

A reery BIG pogged.

[rathercareless.livejournal.com]

I don't have 'reery big pogged.'

*Levitating the newspaper away, he picks up the letter and quickly skims through it. Halfway in he sits bolt upright, eyes wide.*

How much?

[treefeller.livejournal.com]

Bugeyes is a bit tetchy, wouldn't you say?

Time to ask Scrimgoeur for a raise, if you ask me.

[rathercareless.livejournal.com]

Bugeyes is off his nut, you can't charge people with conspiracy because they disagree with radical politics!

[treefeller.livejournal.com]

Apparently you can.

*Thoughtfully, he chews.*

It's got to be illegal. It's just got to be.

[rathercareless.livejournal.com]

Level 1 protocol on kids and now this, of course it isn't fucking legal but that isn't stopping him running amok and tap dancing all over the laws -

*He's up and pacing now, waving the letter about angrily to punctuate his point.*

[treefeller.livejournal.com]

It's a bloody Ministry kickline is what it is--

And what are we going to do, then? I don't think I've seen that much gold ever.

You have, maybe, lost it at Exploding Snap.

*He waggles his eyebrows.*

[rathercareless.livejournal.com]

One time it was Exploding Snap, and you didn't see her, totally rational investment in - things - well we aren't paying this - they can't arrest us, we're bringing in half their arrests!

[treefeller.livejournal.com]

Well, the fuck are we going to do? I don't much fancy handing over my wand with a beg-your-pardon.

And I think they will, Fabian. They'll chuck us in Azkaban to make an example. We're famous, after all. Cuts two ways, yeah?

[rathercareless.livejournal.com]

*His brother's worry cutting through his temper, Fabian falls silent. He's right - of course he's right - Crouch can arrest civilians all day long, but in the end nothing will make a bigger point than tossing the likes of them into Azkaban. It's like playing chicken with a rabid erumpent, he thinks - are they worth more to Crouch as free war heroes, or as proof of how far he's willing to go?

And it isn't right, not after all they've done, the countless times they've both been prepared to give their lives for their country. Years of ready willingness to die in the name of - what, now? And all for Crouch to turn around and do this to his own citizens?

Jaw tight, Fabian leans forward with his elbows on his knees and runs his hands into his hair, head dropped low. He's unconsciously trying to emulate Gid's reaction - ranting won't help, they don't have time for that - and makes an effort not to shout. His voice comes out tense and rough instead; he's only just barely holding onto his temper.*

...So we fight. We're in this to protect the country, and if that means protecting it from Crouch, then - then we fight.

[treefeller.livejournal.com]

*The worried lines of his face smooth out, then, into a grim smile. He doesn't respond--not verbally, anyway, but the friendly punch to Fabian's shoulder is all the agreement either of them need.

And it feels, oddly enough, like all his frustration left him with the punch--it's surmountable, now. It's only another escapade, in its own way. With the decision comes risk, yes, but they're no longer at the mercy of the system. 'Empowered' hasn't been a word Gideon would use to describe his feelings toward the Ministry for a long, long time. He lets out a long breath, one he wasn't aware of holding.*

Well, shit. We'll have to owl Moody. Reckon he has an idea or two.

And we'll have to make the most of our good names while we've got them.

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

*He has to laugh when he reads the letter, long and hard. Has he even seen that many Galleons in one place before? Maybe in the cellar, where he keeps his canned root vegetables and dried spices and all the gold he doesn't trust to Gringotts--but that was before he bought the owls and the printing press, of course. He doesn't have even close to that amount now.

His laughter startles Fnord, and the sleepy barn owl eyes him reproachfully, but it's awhile before he stops. He's wiping away tears with the sleeve of his tunic as he gets out a bit of parchment and writes in his signature ink of shimmering lavender.*

MONA,

HAVEN'T LAUGHED SO HARD IN AGES. COME, WHEN YOU CAN?

XOXO
XENO