[Christopher Harrison]

Damien Goyle was an odious piece of shite!

Auror Harrison fumed as he sat in the practical broom closet the Ministry called an office. It had been several months since Christopher had applied for the position of Senior Auror, a position the aforementioned wizard had gotten instead and the other man hadn't let him forget it since!

The entire situation was becoming simply unbearable. It had become increasingly obvious that he was being punished by both Damien and their greater superiors for the crime of overstepping the mark, of being an uppity mudblood. Not that they'd expressed such sentiments out loud. Not with the current tensions caused by the Squib marches. Instead he was treated to pointless platitudes "Oh, we just felt Damien showed a greater potential at leadership in the interview", or his personal favourite "Oh, we felt you were too inexperienced for the post! Try again in a few years!" Him inexperienced? Hah. Christopher had only joined the Aurors a year after Goyle and had been involved in more successful cases by that point.

And that was how he found himself in his current predicament of waiting impatiently for the arrival of Miss Deitha Albron, so he could interview her about a recent incident at Azkaban. One of his co-workers, a Mr. Spode, had returned with farcical tales of scorpions being summoned from the depths of Hell. Creatures capable of even inspiring fears in Dementors of all things! It sounded like complete nonsense. Goyle certainly thought so as evidenced by his comments at their team briefing earlier in the week. However, that hadn't stopped him from coyly remarking that they ought to investigate it just in case and asking would Christopher mind terribly carrying out said investigation. It was a clear message to the group. His work was unimportant! And worse of all Christopher couldn't refuse without coming across as contrary. An accusation they would surely use against him if he applied for another promotion.

He sighed as he took a look around the office. It was just big enough to fit a desk wide enough to fit two chairs and a filing cabinet in the corner. The only personal touch was a framed picture of a young boy, who couldn't have been more than ten at the time, flying on a training broom. There were days where that picture was the only thing that got him through the day.

"Oh good, someone knows how to arrive on time." He snarked as Miss Albron finally arrived. The words barked out in a dry tone before his expression softened. "I am sorry it's been a.... trying day." The case may have been ridiculous, but he didn't have the right to take it out on the woman before him. That wasn't the type of man he wanted to be. It wasn't the type of man he wanted his son to be when he came of age.

"Let's try again..." he offered with a soft smile that was too coy to be considered flirtatious. "Thank you for coming to see me today. As you may already know my name is Auror Harrison." While he had never worked with Miss. Albron he knew of her by reputation. She was some kind of debt collector and purveyor of information the Department worked with from time to time. Not that anyone cared about the fact her means of obtaining said information were morally dubious if not illegal. Pureblood privilege he thought with a snort.

"And I need to ask you some questions about a recent incident at Azkaban Prison. However, before we start would you like a cup of tea?" He could certainly do with a cuppa himself, if only to calm his frayed nerves down and he certainly wasn't rude enough to not offer his companion the same reprieve.

[Deitha Albron]

Deitha had never been particularly enthused about visiting the Auror Headquarters. Came with the territory, of course, that if you live on the line between the light and the dark, both sides start asking questions.

And she knew this would come; her trip to Azkaban had been 'official' enough to have had an Auror minder, and of course someone like Spode was just buttoned up enough to file an official report rather than letting it slide. The events of the day would, hopefully, at least have been interesting reading.

She had, of course, come through the visitors' entrance - she'd never been allowed in through the employees' entrance, not even on the more authorised times she'd been reporting as an informant.

"I'm sorry I'm late up here, Auror, the receptionist gave me the wrong floor number." She paused, settling herself into the chair, while trying to assess the offer of tea - everyone had an agenda, and Harrison was an unknown quantity. Wouldn't have been the first time an innocent cup of tea wasn't quite so innocent.

"Thanks for the offer - but I had one just before I came out, and too much tea just runs right through me." Didn't hurt to go on the charm offensive and tell a little personal truth. "Don't let me stop you though. Sounds like just the thing for a trying day."

She wondered where this was going to lead, and just how far the questions would dig - revealing Odhrán's involvement was not on the agenda if it could be helped.

"So, how can I help you?"

[Christopher Harrison]

Chris shrugged when Deitha declined his offer. It didn't even cross his mind that she may have feared there was an ulterior motive behind the offer and took her response at face value. "Yes, quite" he agreed as he withdrew his wand from its holster on his arm and conjured a tray with a tea pot and two cups in case she changed her mind later.

Auror Harrison began to go through the motions of preparing his tea while he considered how best to answer her query. While he thought Spode's claims sounded utterly nonsensical, probably some sort of hysteria caused by exposure to the Dementors, he knew better than to risk missing genuine leads due to such bias.

"I was wondering what you could tell me about Mr. O'Dalaígh's purpose for visiting Azkaban that day." The words were spoken in a seemingly cool tone, although one good at reading body language and tone may have recognised as being slightly forced.

He had read the logs for that day and they listed Miss. Albron, a Swiss diplomat and his assistant as the official visitors that day. After learning the supposed altercation had taken place near the cell of the infamous Darragh O'Dalaígh he'd quickly began to speculate on the identity of the mysterious assistant. However, Chris had no proof and he hoped his bluff would be enough for her to hand it to him.

"And once you have done that perhaps you could remind me of your own reason for visiting?" His files stated that she had been assigned to find out information about a debt owed, but that didn't explain her presence in a different corridor to the one inhabited by the prisoner she was supposed to be there to see. Once he had created a clear picture on all the key players present then he could focus on the farcical tales of illusions and creatures from the depths of hell.

[Deitha Albron]

Deitha had been prepared for questions, but she hadn't perhaps been expecting questions about Odhrán directly. So forward. And perhaps a moment to choose her words carefully.

"I didn't know Mr Ó Dálaigh was at Azkaban when I first arrived." So far, so good. No room for a sigh just yet. "I'd gone there chasing some information on a debt. There's some ministry worker who... preferring to remain anonymous... who had lost money at cards and daddy wasn't impressed. Something about being hustled. And the poor sod I went to see was who I was told to talk to."

She coughed, clearing her thought. "Strings must have been pulled for me to go because I didn't arrange the trip, I was just told to be at the boat, and I had an Auror minder. How is Spode, by the way?"

Deitha sat back for a moment, to let Harrison digest everything. And, really, to give herself a moment to think about how to address the Odhrán question.

"Anyway, I'd gotten the information I needed, a name of who I needed to speak to. Some of my debt collection is a bit like a treasure hunt, just less fun because I don't get to keep the treasure at the end." A polite laugh at her own little joke.

"I heard a noise and went to find out more - Spode didn't seem overly concerned at any strange noises that were going on, even more than what was I suppose normal for Azkaban."

Deitha took a deep breath, and shivered in spite of how warm the offices were. It wasn't a pleasant memory, and she found herself staring off into the middle distance contemplatively. "Azkaban is not for the faint of heart, I don't know if you've been... but you... you hear things. Nothing there is natural, but some things are... well... more unnatural. None of the residents have a wand, so you don't expect to hear booms."

She seemed lost in thought for a few moments.

"Sorry about that. Just... trying not to remember some of the things. It's the sounds that are the worst. They stay with you, set your teeth on edge even on a perfectly clear, calm day."

Another polite cough, just to ease herself back into it. "So, as I said, I'd just gotten done with talking to the man I'd gone to see when I heard what sounded like an explosion. Blasting spell or something. Since I wanted to make it out of Azkaban intact - and Spode didn't seem in any great hurry to do anything about it, I rushed in and found Mr Ó Dálaigh standing there looking a bit confused."

She sighed. "I don't really know Mr Ó Dálaigh - I'd been to see him in his little clinic a couple of times, as a patient. I get nightmares, you see. Things happened to me when I was young, and I'd been to St. Mungo's and they couldn't help. I'd just wanted something to help me sleep. The last person I'd expect to find at Azkaban."

She leaned forward, looking at Harrison now. "I don't know what he was doing there. I didn't really stop to ask: the Dementors weren't exactly best pleased at crash bang spells in their home. They were coming."

She paused, stared Harrison dead in the eyes. "Have you ever seen a Dementor? An angry one?" The reality was fewer people had seen Dementors than most people thought.

A wry smile and her gaze was in her lap, thoughtful and introspective. "In my line of work, I sometimes need to encourage people to tell me things. The sort of encouragement that isn't really about violence but about fear. So in the heat of the moment I conjured up a couple of illusions. The poor wretch I spoke to got a small illusion. The Dementors a much bigger one."

She looked vaguely at him again. "But it was all just illusions, smoke and mirrors. The sort of thing third years at Durmstrang play on each other as pranks. Some make spiders with ten, twelve, fifteen legs and dozens of eyes. Others, shapeless forms of flesh covered in mouths." She half-shrugged. "Me, I like things based on scorpions."

Then she grinned, a little too widely. "Have you ever seen a Dementor run away?"

She sat back, waiting to see what Harrison would make of her tale, and more importantly, what gaps she might have to improvise over, and just to let herself rest after the tenseness she had inadvertently felt as product of reliving that day.

And then she relaxed. She'd said a lot, more than she'd meant, and it was on some level cathartic for her to just tell the story - and it was all true, from a certain point of view. She hasn't known Odhrán would be there, and the Dementors had started to arrive when she pulled her magical stunts. Truth be told, in all the excitement, she hadn't really paid attention to where Spode had been, or what he might have seen, let alone bothered to report.

[Christopher Harrison]

Chris was completely surprised when Deitha burst into an elaborate tale in response to his queries. He was used to having to drag information out of suspects, bit by bit, pieces often only given grudgingly after he found evidence there was more to the tale than what they'd just shared. It was refreshing. Not that he'd let his guard down; Miss Albron could just be good at conjuring up a pack of lies.

"Auror Spode is currently on a leave of absence" he answered coolly. The Auror not particularly worried about the fact the comment was open to interpretation and may have revealed information his superiors wouldn't have liked. The truth was healers at St. Mungo's had signed him off with nerves after they'd heard his farcical tales. The entire incident put down to a case of overexposure to the Dementors. The poor sod.

Auror Harrison openly frowned when Deitha referenced Spode's reaction to the strange noises. An Auror had completely ignored obvious signs of disturbance in a prison holding the most dangerous individuals known to society? It was scandalous! It was a complete dereliction of duty! What if one of the top security prisoners had gotten loose? He would be making sure to highlight it in his report. The reliance on some of his colleagues to keep the prisoners docile was beyond the pale. However, it wouldn't be professional to openly comment on the matter. The look of irritation on his face would have to be enough.

He opted not to share his experiences of Azkaban in favour of letting the debt collector continue her tale. Chris did however offer her a soft sympathetic smile as she spoke of the terrors the infamous prison held. Truth be told it was cruel exposing other human beings to their effects constantly. Unfortunately, he couldn't even get himself a promotion let alone succeed in persuading the elites there was a need to re-evaluate their judiciary system.

Auror Harrison openly scowled as she made reference to her nightmares. He wasn't mad at Deitha, quite the contrary; what the woman must have endured for it to still be haunting her well into adulthood. As a father, the very idea of something so traumatising happening to Michael made him want to be sick. Not that he actually knew what Deitha was referring to, but his mind could conjure several unseemly possibilities.

His brows arched in disbelief. "You mean to tell me that the Dementors ran away because of an illusion?" The man stopped just short of openly scoffing. The Dementors were arguably the scariest creatures known to the wizarding world and she was claiming to have bested them through a bunch of smokes and mirrors. It wasn't exactly the easiest thing to believe.

"And no, I can't say I have my general experience with them has been watching prisoners crawl to the back door of their cells." He commented further highlighting his disbelief. Although, admittedly, her tale of detailed illusions made a lot more sense than Spode's tale of creatures being conjured from the depths of hell.

"I will need the name of this Ministry worker and I will remind you as you are neither a lawyer nor a healer you are not protected by the confidentiality laws of 1956." The man decided it was best to cut her off before she tried to use it as an excuse not to share the information he requested.

"Now, what on earth possessed you to try and use illusions to make the Dementor's afraid? Especially when a patronus, the personification of happiness, is usually used to repel them! If your tale is true..." Here he paused to highlight his open cynicism. The line of questioning wasn't strictly necessary for his investigation, but he couldn't help the curiosity he felt. "You could have been killed!" If she was to be believed they'd only survived by sheer dumb luck as Professor McGonagall used to say.

[Deitha Albron]

Deitha took the auror's comments in her stride. That Spode was on leave of absence, pah, no great loss, though it produced a raised eyebrow as it was mentioned. Whether it was time off to recover after Azkaban or whether he'd told them something they didn't want to hear and he was spirited away. People who don't conform are often pushed aside. Others, of course, would have to get on with their work anyway.

And there it was, the disbelief, followed by the questions grounding the situation. It was a familiar enough tactic she'd seen in the Ministry: good at getting people to clam up, or to say something, anything, to defuse the situation. Either way, not the best technique for answers.

So, he wanted the name of the Ministry person that was being covered for by the wretch in Azkaban, and he wanted some kind of proof about illusions and so on, and why no Patronus. Choosing her words carefully would be important.

She shuffled about in her seat uncomfortably, fidgeting for a moment. Would give the impression of self-comfort before revealing something. This auror probably didn't realise she'd been in more awkward spots than this.

"Your last question first... why no Patronus? You must understand, I wasn't educated at Hogwarts, but at Durmstrang, at my father's insistence. The syllabus is... a little different. They don't teach the Patronus charm, they instead talk about Raczidian. I don't know if you know the story? Raczidian is a wizard who was... unworthy, impure of heart and trying to cast a Patronus manifested enough maggots to eat him alive."

Deep breath, pause to let it sink in. "I was brought up in a school that openly teaches what you'd call Dark magic, they teach the best defence is a good offence. I don't believe anyone who studied at Durmstrang could safely conjure a Patronus. Not that any of us would dare try."

She shuffled in her seat again, this time genuinely trying to get a bit more comfortable, then tilted her head slightly at an angle, as if trying to measure the man before her. Her eyes peered around the room - there wasn't a lot of room to peer around, and the desk in front of her was mostly empty... except... a single lonely photograph, angled just where she could see it.

A plan came to mind. If nothing else it would prove her point. It might get her into trouble for a bit, too, but she didn't much care for the tone of this Harrison. Putting the oaf into officious a little too much, it seemed.

"My bread and butter is encouraging people to do or not do certain things. People who don't want to pay what they owe - and it's not always money - sometimes need encouraging, and the easiest way of doing that is showing them what they fear, what literally terrifies them into behaving how you want them to behave. I have a knack for it, and when your back is against the wall, you do what you have to do to keep going, so I did as what comes naturally: scaring them around me."

She paused, staring intently at the picture on Harrison's desk. "For example, if I wanted to get you to do something, I might try making an illusion of that young man in the picture. Your son? Looks like he's got a career in Quidditch ahead of him. But how might you react if I made an illusion of someone angrily holding a wand to his neck?"

[Christopher Harrison]

Chris watched with a blank expression as Miss Albron shuffled in her seat. She seemed nervous, which was surprising for someone in her line of work. Was there something more to this case than he initially thought? Her reaction was rather intriguing, and he looked forward to getting to the bottom of it.

Auror Harrison grimaced at the mention of Dark Magic. It was a horrid practice that needed to be made extinct by the wizarding community as a whole! The self-professed Dark Witch's explanation only strengthened his belief. The Patronus Charm was one of the most powerful pieces of magic in their world, a spell that allowed them to draw upon the happiest moments of their lives and create an avatar of said positively. The damage to their souls caused by dark magic must be immense if it turned something so positive into a source of fear.

The man's disgust grew as the woman proceeded to explain her job with what sounded like pride. Chris had dedicated his life to helping other people, even when other people hardly seemed worth saving. This woman had dedicated hers to causing fear and mayhem. She left nothing but misery and poverty in her wake. What type of person could look at themselves in the mirror living a life like that?

His eyes narrowed dangerously when she mentioned his son! How dare she bring him into this, even if she was only using the example of Michael in danger to illustrate her point? "Realistically, if the illusion was strong enough to fool me I would comply with your request." The concession was made through gritted teeth. The thirty-two-year-old did not even attempt to hide his sudden anger. There was no point in pretending otherwise. Michael was the most important thing in Christopher's life and he would do anything to keep him safe.

"However, I would make sure you lived to strongly regret such a slight" the words were barked out harshly. While he tried to live a simple life, and follow the rules, when it came to his family all bets were off. He would do anything to protect his son from becoming a victim of the most horrific crimes he'd seen in his line of work.

Auror Harrison forced himself to take several deep calming breathes. Although it was difficult, he could not allow his anger to get the best of him. It was unprofessional and could impair his judgement. Miss Albron had made him more determined to get to the bottom of this. He started to review the facts in his head. She had been there to help a mysterious figure with a debt collection.

It was then realisation struck and he chuckled in response. "My, my, Miss Albron you are a clever one." He complimented as his angry features grew smug. "You almost had me" he continued before he took several sips of his tea. The man used those few moments to collect his thoughts.

"You answered my final question, but let us get back to the first... who arranged for you to go to Azkaban that night? I think there's more to this, something you're not telling me... So let's not dawdle around the point any further. I want a name, and I want it now" She might come to regret giving an Auror who had originally viewed this as a time-wasting exercise a reason to give the investigation his all.

[Deitha Albron]

Deitha was, in that mischievous way, pleased that her shot had landed. Point successfully made. "Bravo, the auror has mettle! Naturally, I wouldn't be foolish enough to actually threaten an auror, but you take my point: I observe, I find a weak spot and I push on it just hard enough."

But naturally as the auror calmed and collected his thoughts, and sipped his tea, Deitha knew the moment had to be coming when he'd start asking the actually awkward questions. Hopefully he'd only ask something awkward about Dark magic and why Dark wizards and witches didn't take too kindly to Dementors, and not about her benefactor.

Of course, though, the seasoned investigator was not to be put off and wanted a name. Stirring the pot had lit a fire under him and perhaps he wouldn't take no for an answer.

For the sake of her reputation and continued health, it occurred that perhaps she shoudl not make it too easy.

"I don't actually know who, specifically, arranged for me to go to Azkaban. I can make an educated guess, however... as I said, there was a debt from some Ministry worker who has a very influential father, relating to some card game or other. I didn't get the full story, it's need-to-know and... I didn't."

She paused, trying to figure out how to say what came next without telling any actual lies should something unsavoury like Veritaserum come into the picture later.

"I don't always get told all the details. And I've had enough trips to St. Mungo's to know that sometimes it's better not to ask."

She paused, licking her lips that had suddenly gone dry. "Let's just say... it's someone with enough clout to arrange a two-way trip to Azkaban, and keep it off the books. Not someone you want to cross, unless they wanted to also arrange a one-way trip, and I'd rather not, thanks."

A thought hit her. "And you lot, your office sent a minder... surely that had some paperwork? Surely no-one just goes off from the Auror's Office without someone knowing where you're going? 'Specially not if it's Azkaban."

And... breathe. She was sure Harrison would push harder for a name, but if he wanted it, he was going to have to work harder for it than that. The ministry worker concerned wasn't important, but daddy was. And people like that, with both ample supplies of money and power, are people you do well to avoid crossing. Harrison was playing a dangerous game here - because if he actually got the name, he might start asking questions he shouldn't.

She wondered if she should bring Spaulding into this, seeing the Auror's Office go over Spaulding's paperwork would be quite pleasing. But even that connection, he'd have to work for, harder than this. Everything has a price, especially information.

[Christopher Harrison]

Auror Harrison openly rolled his eyes when Miss Albron commented on his mettle. She was clearly being sarcastic; most people would have reacted with equal hostility to the idea of their kid in danger.

His expression was schooled into a more professional façade of neutrality when she spoke of the person who hired her. Chris resisted the urge to sigh upon hearing her concerns. He was more than capable of deciding who he was and was not willing to cross; he did not need her to decide for him. However, he would have to show more compassion if he hoped to win her round. "Miss. Albron, the notes kept by this Department are strictly confidential. If you are worried about being in danger, we can ensure your name is kept out of it if we deem further action necessary."

It was tempting to keep pushing the subject, to attempt needling further information out of her. However, the Auror knew there was not much more he could do. The case was not severe enough to threaten her with a fine. While Veritaserum was a class five restricted object, which meant the use of it in criminal cases had to be approved by the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, or a Senior Auror enacted to act in the Head's absence. There was little point in trying to bluff and threaten her with it as Miss Albron seemed far too informed to fall for such a ruse. However, that did not mean he could not put the pressure on in other areas.

He ignored the remark about the Department's paperwork. The sad truth was they were as corrupt as anywhere else when it came to money or the exchange of political favours. Chris was confident, if he searched, he would find something as bemusing as a muggle signing their name 'Mickey Mouse' on a piece of paperwork.

With a casual flick of his wand, the table separating them shrunk to the size of a model commonly found in a muggle doll house. "Miss Albron, while we cannot control the forms of magic taught on foreign soil, it is important that I remind you the use of blood magic, necromancy and other fields commonly referred to as 'dark' is forbidden here in Britain. I will need you to demonstrate the illusions you conjured that night."

The Auror was partially playing mind games with the woman. He wanted to put her under pressure and create a crack in the cool façade she had presented thus far. There was also a part of him curious to see something capable of striking fear in a Dementor's heart.

[Deitha Albron]

There was a pause in the air as the auror made the usual noises about strict confidentiality. She had, of course, heard them all before and knew that the Auror's Office was about as confidential as a pair of old socks - very holey and righteous. Let all sorts of things in and out but would proclaim to anyone watching that it couldn't possibly be the case.

"I've heard the claims about confidentiality before, I'm afraid. But while your concern for my well-being is admirable, I can take care of myself. I've no doubt you can take care of you and yours, but you have to understand how connected these people are. You may not like what you find if you dig too deeply, and you may find other people suddenly become very interested in what you know."

A deep breath. "Sometimes it's better not to know. A little plausible deniability goes a long way."

Suddenly the table between them shrank, and the auror began to... insist... on a demonstration, with a curt reminder of what was considered 'dark magic'. Fortunately for her, illusions weren't generally considered dark magic.

Oh, well, if he wanted a demonstration, who was she to refuse?

"A demonstration? OK, let me think a moment. Some of it was a bit of a blur. So the first things I did were to talk to the prisoner that was in fact innocent. He didn't take much scaring."

Deitha stared off into the middle distance, thinking, and closed her eyes, before mouthing the same incantations she'd used that day. As she opened her eyes, they had taken on the last blues of twilight before night falls, and her voice dropped an octave. "I TOLD HIM TO GAZE UPON ME, AND THEN I EXPLAINED WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF HE DID NOT TELL ME THE TRUTH."

She coughed heavily, trying to get her voice back to its normal pitch. "It didn't take much, poor sod, he hadn't had a lot of constitution before he'd gone in. I made some noises about cursing him to stay there forever as a ghost, watching his entrails be eaten by the rats, and that he'd be stuck there with the dementors forever, without even death as a release. Spode saw all this, I assumed that was in his report."

There was a pause in the air. Clearly the important part of the story was to come, and she needed to leave Odhrán out of it as best possible.

"Then I heard a noise, several noises actually, and went to investigate. If there was going to be trouble getting off the island I wanted to know sooner rather than later. What I saw was someone there on other business casting confrigo at the dementors and they weren't exactly impressed with him. Whatever he was doing, it was keeping them at bay while he was trying to speak to one of the prisoners."

Another deep breath. "I'm sure you know that already, of course. So... the dementors were coming. I don't know if you know how a Patronus really works against the dementors, but it's not quite what people think. A Patronus is a manifestation of happiness, and dementors can't see it, only sense it. Thing about a Patronus, it's something a dementor can't feed on, there's nothing there to actually eat, only the projection of it. It'd be like you or me trying to drink a picture of a cup of tea to quench our thirst."

She could feel her fingers twitching. Her specialty wanted to burst forth, naked and unashamed. "But what if you could project something else as a projection in a similar way?"

Deitha clenched her right hand into a fist, then gently flexed her fingers in order from index to pinky and back. She had to not let this out of control.

"And so I summoned one of these. Sort of an anti-Patronus, but instead of projecting happiness, it radiates fear. Fear, the threat of its hunger. And seemingly relentless."

Trying hard to hide the shaking, she summoned a single small shadow that coalesced into the familiar form: resembling a scorpion, but with more legs, two tails each equipped with stingers, and a monstrous pair of front claws that looked capable of snapping at almost anything.

She caught the creature with a swift levitation spell to keep it in one place. "How do you like it? The dementors didn't care much for my friend here, and I summoned a couple of illusions like this, but bigger. And since it is nothing but an illusion it has no emotions on which a dementor can feed. Imagine their reaction: here is a creature they have never seen, that knows no emotion of its own save its own hunger, and radiates fear."

Deitha kept the creature spinning gently in the air for Harrison to get a good look at.

[Christopher Harrison]

Chris frowned when Miss Albron tried, yet again, to warn him off discovering the identity of her contractor. The Auror was getting thoroughly sick of the woman's condescending concern. However, Chris opted to leave it be, as the Auror feared he would only come off as petulant if he argued the point when he did not have the legal authority to force a name out of her.
 
The Auror winched at the word innocent. Punishing someone for a crime they did not commit was abominable to an Auror who tried to serve justice. However, Auror Harrison was not as surprised as he would have liked. The sad truth was the Ministry had a rot that needed purging. Unfortunately, Chris did not have the authority to deal with it how he would have liked; like most things, corruption often came from the top down.
 
The thirty-two-year-old scowled as she described her threat to tie the prisoner's ghost to the earthly plane. His earlier disgust returned in full force. Her behaviour was atrocious. What right did she have to mentally torture anyone in such a manner? Although that odious buffoon Goyle would disagree, Spode needed punishment. Chris would never have allowed such behaviour to continue unbidden had he been on duty that night. The fact Spode's report only held vague references to Miss Albron's threat was hardly a surprise. The man was not exactly known for his work ethic.

Chris nodded in agreement when Deitha described how the Patronus functioned. It had been explained to him similarly when Chris learned the spell as a part of his Auror training. It would hardly do for those likely to encounter the creatures as part of their regular duties to be ignorant of them, after all.

The Auror watched with widened eyes as her supposed anti-Patronus burst into existence. He could feel the projection of fear it radiated, although it felt muted. Chris assumed the woman must have been holding back. "I am surprised they did not welcome it as a long-lost cousin" he joked. Chris was referring to the menacing aura Dementors gave off in their own right. It still seemed strange to him. Dementors were creatures of darkness; they thrived on fear, pain, and loss. Why would they fear something that projected the very thing that drew them? Even if they had little interest in the illusion, the fear it would have sparked in nearby prisoners should have been considered a bonus.

The thirty-two-year-old stepped closer to examine the illusion thoroughly. Auror Harrison managed to keep the aura of fear it projected at bay. Chris had been through a lot in his life. The artificial aura they projected seemed like nothing next to the genuine fear he had, such as something happening to his son. "One last question, and then you are free to leave." There was little left for him to query, constricted as he was by the law he had vowed to uphold. "Explain it to me like I am an idiot; why did Dementors feel frightened of a creature that helped create the conditions they thrive in?"

[Deitha Albron]

Deitha was faintly amused; her display clearly got the attention of the auror in front of her, and he had more constitution than she'd initially given him credit for.

And, curiously, more resistant to the scorpion's fear than she'd expected. Maybe there was a certain amount of training that aurors got to withstand fear, maybe that it was because she'd provoked him with something more real first.

With a wave of her wand, she dispelled the illusion. It had been a fun little outing, and what she was omitting from the conversation for the moment was that the stronger the emotion, the scarier the illusion. And being all charged up in the heat of the moment at Azkaban would certainly have qualified.

The auror had some interesting angles, good level head on his shoulders, asking the right kinds of questions.

"You know, that is a really good question. But I'm afraid that's a mistake a lot of people make: Dementors don't feed on fear... they feed on hope, peace, happiness. A Patronus is a manifestation of those, but a Dementor can't actually feed on it. It's like being in a boat on the sea, surrounded by all that water - but not a drop you could drink."

Deitha paused, figuring out how to explain it. "Dementors are used to having their own way, feeding on happy thoughts, basking in the fear they compel from the absence of happiness. But you give them something that makes them think they're not top dog - you give them something that isn't afraid of them, has absolutely no happiness whatsoever in its soul - doesn't have a soul! - and has a hunger made up solely of fear? They'll run because they don't know what to do with it. Can't scare it, can't eat it, can't kiss it to remove a soul it doesn't have."

She smiled wryly. "Having done that, I gave them an illusion they wouldn't know what to do with... for just a few brief moments, I dazzled them. I made Azkaban look like a castle fit for a king. I took their home and turned it upside down, and gave it a makeover not steeped in hope but valiance. Maggots infest a stinking corpse, but they turn and flee from the clean and fresh - and so too, it seems, do Dementors."

A wave of the wand later and she proved her point. "Even the dreariest place can be inspiring with the right look." It wasn't quite on the same order as her Azkaban resplendence, but the filing cabinets looked brand new, gleaming and perfectly square. The desk - seemingly restored to its former size, but now a beautifully carved mahogony wonder with teak inlaid around the writing area, just lined up for a blotter. The wallpaper, non-descript and drab, now had red and gold overtones; the sort of thing that wouldn't look out of place in a more expensive abode. It was vaguely of the style she'd seen at Spaulding's country pile, that wasn't too ostentatious but was more expensive in reality per yard of the stuff than she'd make in a year.

With a flourish, the door fittings, skirting, and other odds and ends of the room spruced themselves up.

And with another gesture, it was undone, and quicker than you could blink, the room returned to its previous broom closet majesty.

"Having been confronted with a thing that showed you that you were its next meal and then having your house made the opposite of what you wanted, wouldn't you be afraid of what else might come next?"

[Christopher Harrison]

Chris listened to Deitha's explanation with keen interest. She was, clearly, an astute woman with a firm understanding of magical theory. It was a shame some of her magical practices were dubious at best. Such a waste Chris thought. He snapped back to the present as she neared the end of her explanation about the power of her illusions.

Auror Harrison snorted with open amusement as she explained the method she used to dazzle them. It was a hilarious image in his mind; the Creatures the wizarding world regarded with fear and suspicion running away scared because they thought someone had cleaned up their home. A part of him felt tempted to go to Azkaban and try it! The more logical part argued such action would be foolhardy; what if something went wrong and the Dementors fed on his soul? He could not risk it! Christopher had a son who needed him to come home to him at the end of the day.

The Auror watched, stone-faced, as she transformed his office into a more idealised version. "Is it that obvious I once proudly wore Gryffindor robes?" Auror Harrison joked in reference to the wallpaper's overtones. While Deitha had explained her status as a Durmstrang graduate, he doubted someone could grow up in Britain without at least learning about the houses of Hogwarts. A part of Chris felt tempted to cast some spells to make the illusion real, but he ultimately decided against it. It would only give the odious buffoon an opportunity to moan about the evils of changing Ministry property without permission.

"I suppose I might" he conceded but chose not to further elaborate on the discussion. While Miss Albron's commentary was interesting he had never been one for in-depth discussions on the theory of magic. It was better to leave such things to the Unspeakables with their vested interest in discovering the deeper meaning behind the force witches and wizards yielded.

"As promised, you are now welcome to go! Thank you for meeting with me today Miss Albron. You have given me a lot to think about." While he spoke Christopher waved his wand and watched as the table returned to its regular size. His gaze turned to the pieces of parchment he kept at the end of his desk, and Chris began to write. It was a clear dismissal from the Auror who felt disgruntled despite his polite wording.

[Deitha Albron]

Deitha politely waited for the auror to confirm that she was all done, and that she could go, and stood. "Thank you for listening with an open mind. Not everyone takes so... kindly... to my methods - even if they do work."

She paused, debating to curtsy, but instead hurried out, as the auror began to reach for a piece of parchment to, no doubt, write a report. It was, on reflection, something of a shame - here was a man, firebrand in his own way, with a desire for the world to be right, to do right, and he was stuck in the middle of an institution that couldn't really care less about doing right, merely the appearance of it, with a certain stubbornness for bureaucratic enforcement of that appearance.

As Deitha meandered her way back out of the Ministry offices, she wondered how she might slip something in - strictly anonymously - to have someone look over Spaulding's affairs. At least, his business affairs; what he might do extra-maritally was hardly her concern. The damnable pudding man had to have some dirt on him.

But that was another time and another place. She would, at some point, need to talk to Odhrán about this - because she had a feeling this Harrison fellow would keep digging. He seemed the type: like those smartly dressed American - or was it Canadian? - types she'd heard about, that 'always got their man'. Tenacious, determined, if sometimes a bit bone-headed. She was sure he meant well.

Speaking of Bonehead, it would be time to go for a walk... she could use it today. Keeping her cards that close to her chest had been uncomfortable.

And so she put the Ministry behind her - at least for today.