Memos to: Alice Longbottom, Sirius Black, Fabian Prewett

[hemhemhemhemhem.livejournal.com]

Sirius,

Perhaps you are not used to this in the Auror Office, but in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures (Being Division) we are dedicated to an integrated approach incorporating full transparency. In pursuit of this goal I expect a report on the status of your canvass of the London werewolf population by the end of the work week along with a detailed account of any leads you may or may not have gleaned from such.

In addition, I have yet to receive an official incident report of the trouble you encountered on your unauthorized trip to Scotland. I hope I don't need to remind you that such reports are to be handed in no later than two weeks after the incident in question.

Finally, I am requesting that you and the other Aurors on loan to the DRCMC(BD) begin keeping a daily log of your activities in increments of one-half hour so that we can ensure full transparency and that your talents are being efficiently utilized.

Please give my regards to Remus Lupin.

Sincerely,
Dolores Jean Umbridge
Head of the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Being Division

---

Dear Alice,

Perhaps you are not used to this in the Auror Office, but in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures (Being Division) we are dedicated to an integrated approach incorporating full transparency. In pursuit of this goal I expect a report on the status of your interviews with witnesses of the Dementor attacks by the end of the work week along with a detailed account of any leads you may or may not have gleaned from such.

In addition, I have yet to receive an official incident report of the trouble you encountered on your unauthorized trip to Scotland. I hope I don't need to remind you that such reports are to be handed in no later than two weeks after the incident in question.

Finally, I am requesting that you and the other Aurors on loan to the DRCMC(BD) begin keeping a daily log of your activities in increments of one-half hour so that we can ensure full transparency and that your talents are being efficiently utilized.

Sincerely,
Dolores Jean Umbridge
Head of the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Being Division

---

Fabian,

I hope that you are in the process of making a full recovery and that this leave has been a restful one for you.

I look forward to receiving your official incident report of the trouble you encountered in Scotland. As the injured Auror in question you are entitled to a meeting with me to discuss the regrettable incident. Once you have returned to work, feel free to drop by my office any time, or to schedule a meeting when you are quite sure that you are fully up to it.

Of course, I also expect a report on your investigations in Scotland and what leads you may or may not have gleaned there. Be sure to take your time.

Finally, I am requesting that you and the other Aurors on loan to the DRCMC(BD) begin keeping a daily log of your activities in increments of one-half hour so that we can ensure full transparency and that your talents are being efficiently utilized. This would obviously have to wait until you are back with us at the DRMC(BD)--which will be soon, I hope.

Wishing you a speedy recovery,
Dolores Jean Umbridge
Head of the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Being Division

Comments

[rathercareless.livejournal.com]

*Fabian has been cleared to go back to the office on Monday, and he didn't particularly want another owl from Umbridge invading the non-Umbridge sanctity of the flat. She is the pinnacle of all that is detestable right now as far as he's concerned. He knows he led the investigation in Halkirk rashly. He knows that. But it was still her fucking fault for sending him in the first place without proper support, and the fact of the matter is that he would be dead right now if it hadn't been for Alice and Sirius. He's a little amazed they aren't all three dead. That, Fabian is blaming squarely on Umbridge.

So her memo, with it's 'entitled' and 'soon, I hope' and half-fucking-hourly records, is not welcome. Fucking right he's going to have a word with her, he didn't need her arse-headed permission, and he has never, never been more frustrated than he is right now that he can't hold a quill properly anymore.

Hating his right arm violently - it's not totally useless but it's weak, Percy's probably got a better grip right now - Fabian takes the memo in his left. That one's bandaged, too, but the hand's free and the damage isn't as extensive. It's still not clear if he'll have to keep using his left for his wand or not - aggravating at best, right now - but writing is still too difficult. And illegible.

So, Gideon. He carries the memo into the other room, standing over his twin and glowering, holding the parchment out stubbornly.*

I need to you take dictation for me.

[treefeller.livejournal.com]

*It's automatic: Gideon has a quill out and inked almost before Fabian's done speaking. If Fabian has some of their sister's temper, Gideon has a great deal of her protectiveness, and the days of watching his brother mend have been. . .difficult, to say the least. He has felt angry and helpless and oddly guilty, looking at his own unmarked and fully-functional arms as if they don't belong there. But it didn't do to moan and complain about how hard it was to watch someone else's pain, so he has kept it tightly to himself and simply tried to keep things light whenever he can, to be as useful as he possibly can be and ready to help at all times with the many, many things that Fabian isn't able to properly do on his own these days.*

And who is the lucky lady?

[rathercareless.livejournal.com]

*He's not unaware of the strain Gideon's been under. Even with all the pain and frustration he's been dealing with, pushing shredded muscles too far too fast to heal, he hasn't lost track of what's going on with Gideon. There's a certain amount of guilt involved on Fabian's part, and if it were anyone but Gid helping there'd be a lot of shame, too. The Healers said he'll improve, but the last two weeks have been hard on both of them all the same. Still, he's let Gideon keep his less cheerful feelings to himself - if he feels like that's helpful, then okay. He can let him believe that.

At the moment, though, he's too angry to be cognizant of much else than the memo. It's blotting out everything that isn't currently the need to punch Umbridge in the nose.*

My wishes-she-were-actually-my-boss. There's a memo.

[treefeller.livejournal.com]

*The quill twitches in Gideon's hand, and he grimaces.*

Oh God. Don't tell me, she wants you back in tomorrow to handcopy all her files over in green ink instead of purple.

[rathercareless.livejournal.com]

No. She wants incident and progress reports and for me to hurry up and come back to work, like I'm enjoying having to stay home, and half-hour activity logs, because I'm fucking five-years-old and can't manage my own time, obviously, and oh, right, I've got an entitlement to have a chat with her about getting ripped to bits.

[treefeller.livejournal.com]

*Gideon is ready to be a steadying influence, crack another joke, but at Fabian's words the slow burn of anger that he's been living with for weeks now flares up and he snaps out the words as if he's biting them.*

Half-hour logs? You're fucking joking. Do you put the hours it takes you to make the logs on the logs or is that too incestuous?

*He doesn't say what else he means: that baiting Fabian for staying home is a low blow in a sensitive spot and that infuriates him enough to consider whether he can send a Howler anonymously.*

[rathercareless.livejournal.com]

Oh, it's going in the logs. If she wants details I will bloody well give her details. And she can deal with the fact I write like Percy right now, if she wants them so badly.

[treefeller.livejournal.com]

I will have you know that Percy's penmanship is surpassingly lovely for a boy of five. We've got some on the fridge, as you'll remember.

*But he's poised with the quill and ready to go.*

Fire away, Perce.

[rathercareless.livejournal.com]

*Agitated, Fabian strides away a few steps, fidgeting with his bandaged right forearm. This hurts, of course, which just makes him angrier. He addresses the room at large animatedly, pacing between Gideon and the window and gesturing as much as his injuries will allow.*

Dolores. You should try nearly having your arms ripped off and then calling anything 'restful', do let me know how it works out for you between a week in St. Mungo's and then not being able to sleep because of the great giant holes bitten out of your arms, but that's really neither here nor there, is it. You can absolutely bet I'll be dropping by (and you can keep your tea to yourself this time), because you owe me a fucking apology for sending me to Scotland alone in the first place when it should've been half the squad at least. You know fucking well I'm one of the best the Ministry's got, but what the bloody hell was I meant to do one-against-twenty, is what I'd like to know -

[treefeller.livejournal.com]

*Gideon has written no farther than 'Dolores', but he isn't about to shut Fabian down mid-rant.*

Be sure to put in something about how she looks like a toad and she should go fuck herself with a rake, darling.

[rathercareless.livejournal.com]

- And, yes, thank you, you look like a bloody arse-faced toad and you ought to go fuck yourself with a rake, for all the great galloping fucks that people don't give about you and your policies, and half-hour increments is the stupidest thing I've been asked to do in seven years in the department, but that's been the past month in a nutshell, then, hasn't it! You are grossly incompetent, you're going to end up getting all three of us killed, and we are not your private goddamned army, which Crouch really ought to have expla - Gid, mate, you aren't writing.

*He's stopped a few feet away, looking down at just 'Dolores' on the page with an epic frown of disapproval.*

[treefeller.livejournal.com]

I'm not wasting my gorgeous penmanship on something that'll end up in the bin. Best save all that for the Howler and keep the letter in Umbridge-fucking-ese, yeah?

[rathercareless.livejournal.com]

No, that's exactly the problem, no one ever stands up to her! I've about had it being pushed around by that bitch, she's got this coming, and she's lucky it's just words on a fucking page!

[treefeller.livejournal.com]

Fabian, if you say all that she'll light up like a Christmas tree because she can use it against you. Which she will promptly do. And it certainly won't sink in any more than speaking her language would.

[rathercareless.livejournal.com]

I don't care! I can handle the job being dangerous, I knew what I was signing up for when we started all this, but this, Gid? This is gross negligence and mismanagement, and she is going to get us killed. I'm not dying for her political agendas. I'm not.

[treefeller.livejournal.com]

*Fabian is right. But what he's saying is also irrelevant, and writing Dolores Umbridge a passionate hate letter will accomplish one thing and one thing only and that is career suicide. Gideon sighs and runs his hands through his hair, leaving behind a slight smear of ink on his temple.*

Do you want my advice, Fabian? Don't send her hate-mail and get fired for it. Owl her something blank and nondescript that reflects well on you, as it'll go into the file. And then you meet with her in her office armed with precedents and evidence and you fuck her with a rake.

Figuratively speaking.

[rathercareless.livejournal.com]

*The only reason Fabian doesn't lash out again verbally at that is that he knows, with the odd non-verbal understanding of twins, that Gideon is every bit as angry as he is. That he's still his closest ally even if he's not going to write the letter Fabian wants. He stares at his brother for a long moment and lets this sink in, his agitation easing into tense exhaustion, and then it's another moment before the words themselves sink in. When they do he nods stiffly, flopping into the nearest chair and rubbing at his face with his left hand.*

Okay. You're right.

[treefeller.livejournal.com]

*Gideon sighs and spreads his hands, a peace offering. He knows how hard it is to swallow, and he also knows better than to immediately start pulling teeth to get Fabian to compose something nice.*

If you want I will write the other thing too and we can put it on the fridge?

[rathercareless.livejournal.com]

*He nods again, but tiredly, the fight somewhat gone out of him. He's worn out, his arms hurt, and there's nothing of his usual buoyancy in him right now.*

Sure. Knock yourself out.

[treefeller.livejournal.com]

I could just throw something together, if you like.

Thank you for the well-wishes understood about the reports I look forward to seeing you in the office soon also go fuck yourself with a rake?

[rathercareless.livejournal.com]

*It's enough to draw a faint smile as Fabian peeks out from under the hand covering his eyes.*

If you'd be a dear. Especially that last bit.

[treefeller.livejournal.com]

I shall be sure to underline.

Perhaps twice.

[rathercareless.livejournal.com]

You know I'm not overreacting, though, yeah? Really? I don't trust her.

[treefeller.livejournal.com]

Yes, and you're right not to. She's dangerous. Don't go handing her weapons.

[rathercareless.livejournal.com]

Good, so we're clear I'm not the crazy one, between me and her. Excellent.

[treefeller.livejournal.com]

Oh, you are certainly the crazy one. It's that she is the dangerous incompetent evil one.

[treefeller.livejournal.com]

*It wouldn't be the first time Gideon wrote under Fabian's name...although it had been awhile since that last Potions essay. Still, the handwriting is near-identical, and the phrasing polite enough, and it passes just fine.With a muttered apology and an extra Owl Treat, Gideon urges Nugget to behave--and to hurry back.*

Madam Umbridge,

I appreciate your concern and am looking forward to returning to work. I will be sure to meet with you as soon as possible, and will of course provide you with the necessary reports and activity logs.

Best,
Fabian Prewett

[fleasaremurder.livejournal.com]

*Half. Hour. Increments. Even ignoring the incredible insult that it is to be told to document his time like some sort of fucking shop girl, there is the added level of difficulty of inventing and altering the events of visiting the werewolves. Any hiccups in the process, any failure to cooperate, anything that makes them look guilty, not to mention Remus' presence alongside him, will have to be covered up and dealt with.

And then there are the two reports. The incident report from Scotland is simple enough to write, easy as dashing off a last-minute History of Magic essay. The second is much harder, as it requires summation, stretching of the truth, some outright fabrication, and all of it has to stand up to the undoubtedly intense scrutiny Umbridge will give it without actually implicating anyone. The report ends up saying, in its essence, that Greyback is the real problem, and if the werewolves here were interested in being part of his brand of evil, they'd have moved to Scotland already.

The drudgery of writing up the reports (and documenting the time spent doing it, of course) calms his anger at least enough that he doesn't curse once or suggest rake-fucking in his return note to accompany them.*

Umbridge,

Please find attached both of the reports you requested.

As for my trip to Scotland, I was under the impression that things I did on my own time were not the deparment's concern. If you would like a full accounting of my time both on and off the clock, I think I'll be needing a raise.

And Remus is splendid. Thanks for asking.

Sirius Black

[hemhemhemhemhem.livejournal.com]

Sirius,

Thank you for the prompt reports.

We both know your trip to Scotland was no camping expedition. You were present on an Auror mission, in your capacity as an Auror, and you both witnessed and contributed to its tragic outcome. If you have any further questions about that, or about your salary, feel free to take them up the chain of command.

I hope you both are well.

Sincerely,
Dolores Umbridge
Head of the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Being division

[gummymummy.livejournal.com]

Alice stares at the parchment. It can't be serious - none of it can.

She opens her desk drawer and stares down at her notes and half-finished reports on Dementor victims. Alice's chest tightens and she looks up to Frank's desk. He's not there, he must be out on business. Immediately she shuts the drawer again - she can send those in later.

She gathers her quill and parchment and begins to write the stories she'd prepared before Scotland. It takes all her willpower not to write "Dearest".

Dear Ms. Umbridge,

The reports will be on your desk by Friday. However, I should warn you that there have been no leads.

Also, my time in Scotland was not on the clock, and therefore not related to my job within or without your division. I was visiting my family and visited Fabian as well.

Most sincerely,
Alice Longbottom

[hemhemhemhemhem.livejournal.com]

*The memo floats almost lazily to Alice's desk--but its arrival is almost immediate, as if it took no time at all to compose.*

Dear Alice,

How unfortunate. It seems that my request for an activity log has come not a moment too soon. Please let me know if you need any guidance as to how to use your time more effectively. I'm sure with persistence you will get the hang of it eventually.

We both know your trip to Scotland was no social visit, my dear. You were present on an Auror mission, in your capacity as an Auror, and you both witnessed and markedly contributed to its tragic outcome. If you have any further questions about that, feel free to take them up the chain of command. Otherwise, I will expect a full report--if you can manage it.

Sincerely
Dolores Jane Umbridge
Head of the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Being Division

[gummymummy.livejournal.com]

Alice watches as the memo drifts towards her, then settles on top of her work.

Whereas the previous message had been relatively non-singular, this one is extremely personal. Alice sputters out loud as she reads to response. The implications are staggering - she is incompetent, she is incapable, she is responsible for Fabian's attack...

Not that Alice hasn't had these thoughts herself, but since the Rosier incident she had been sitting a little straighter in her desk chair. Alice goes through her mantra -I am effective, I am good, I am competent - but suddenly it's hollow.

For a moment Alice feels her eyes getting wet, but as she looks down at the sickeningly flowery signature, she stops. Some woman who feels so insecure about herself in the world is not going to force Alice into that same sad hole.

Alice takes the memo, tears it very deliberately to shreds, then stands up to go find Frank.