The Talisman of Monguk

Chapter 7: The Office of Wizengamot Administration Services

It was now early October. Outside, the leaves were changing color and the autumn air had turned crisp and cold. A dreary rain was falling on that Monday morning, as Angela exited the Floo Network into the lobby of the Ministry of Magic for work. Even the magical windows far underground reflected a gray sky and a dismal drizzling rain, dampening Angela's spirits. She entered the Office of Wizengamot Administration Services and made her way to her cubicle. She stopped short and just stared. Her cubicle was piled high with boxes of parchments and paperwork from the last hearing. She couldn't even navigate a passage to her desk. With an exasperated sigh, she dropped her briefcase and looked for her supervisor, Colleen Penn.

"Colleen, where's Phil?" she asked with annoyance. "He was supposed to take all those boxes from the Higgins trial down to the storeroom. I can't even get into my office to finish the last of the paperwork."

A middle-aged witch, wearing neatly tailored robes, surveyed Angela over her horned-rimmed glasses. "Well, you know Phil. He just sort of floats with the ether in his own space-time continuum," the witch remarked with a dismissive wave of her hand. "He's not in yet. I'll send him around, when I see him."

"But how am I supposed to get any work done, when I can't even reach my desk?" Angela objected.

"Well, I guess you'll just have to clear off the boxes yourself. There's a trolley in the janitor's closet that you can use." Seeing the disappointed look on Angela's face, Colleen added sympathetically, "I know, but there's nothing else that I can do."

With a heavy sigh, Angela fetched the trolley from the janitor's closet and started moving the boxes herself. She knew from experience that these wizard court documents were temperamental things. The boxes just seemed to have a mind of their own. She couldn't simply levitate them down to the storeroom. Instead, they insisted on being stacked on the trolley in precise order and wheeled by hand down to the storeroom, as if they were precious cargo. If she put them on the cart in the wrong order, the boxes blew their lids in a fit of temper, spewing their contents all over her office. She made that mistake only once. She had to quickly sit on the lid to keep the contents in place and then stun it into submission. All the while, the box bucked and bumped, trying to throw her off.

It took her the better part of the morning to get her office cleared out. Then she sat down at her desk and finished up the paperwork, those seemingly endless reams of parchment that had to be filed in triplicate. By the time she finished, she had missed most of her lunch hour.

The weekly departmental meeting would start promptly at one o'clock and Colleen would be distributing the new case files. Angela didn't dare miss it. As it was ten minutes to one o'clock, she raced to a seedy pie shop on the corner, purchased a meat pie, and ate as quickly as she could. She returned to the office fifteen minutes later, only to discover that the meeting had already taken place. As she arrived, her colleagues were just filing out of the staff room.

Angela swore with frustration and muttered, "That must have been the shortest meeting in history."

As they passed her, several of her coworkers avoided her stare and one or two of them even sniggered. That wasn't a good sign. Colleen was the last to exit the staff room. She was carrying a pink file folder. Angela eyed the folder with dread.

"Colleen, I'm so sorry that I was late. All those boxes...," she started to explain.

"Not to worry, Angela. I understand," said Colleen, cutting her off. "It was a very short meeting today. There is only one new case. And since you're the only one available, it's yours," she continued, handing Angela the pink file.

Angela reluctantly took the file and quickly scanned the summary report, while her supervisor looked on. From what she read, Mr. Ali Abib was accused of attempting to sell magic carpets to Muggles. Her eyes widened and her face fell, when she read that Dolores Umbridge was taking a personal interest in this case.

"Please, no," Angela begged, looking up from the file. "Please, tell me that Dolores Umbridge is not overseeing this case."

"I'm afraid so," Colleen answered. "Rumor has it that Umbridge has a vendetta against Mr. Abib. It seems that he once sold her a carpet that malfunctioned. Every time that she tread on it, it would fly out from under her, sending her sprawling. Pulled the rug right out from under her, so to speak. When she tried a Permanent Sticking Charm on the carpet to keep it in place, she accidentally set it afire. Well, Mr. Abib wouldn't take it back after that or give her a refund. Word is that they had a rather nasty fight and Mr. Abib won. Since then, she's made it her personal mission to put him out of business."

Colleen continued, "Oh, by the way, Umbridge wants to see you in her office straight away. She's anxious to get started. But don't fret. You won't have to endure her for long. The hearing is set for a week from Friday. It's already on the docket."

"So soon?"

"Yes, I understand that they have a very weak case, all hearsay and unreliable witnesses. I wouldn't be at all surprised if it gets dismissed."

As Angela walked to Umbridge's office, she couldn't imagine that her day could get any worse. Her nerves were churning, as was that greasy meat pie in the pit of her stomach. She knocked on Umbridge's office door and entered.

Dolores Umbridge was seated at her desk, wearing a fuzzy pink cardigan sweater with a matching bow perched upon her head. Her eyes were wide and round. A great toad-like smile played about her lips.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Umbridge. I'm Angela Hawkins. I've been assigned to the Abib case. Ms. Penn said that you wished to see me?"

"Yes, of course, dear. Please sit down," invited Umbridge in a high-pitched girlish voice.

Angela began, "I suppose that you'll need the usual rundown of decrees and statutes that might apply in this case. I'll submit a request to the Magical Office of Law straight away."

"Yes, indeed," Umbridge replied sweetly. "But just so that we understand each other, this particular case is very important to me. I want to make sure that Mr. Abib receives full justice. I don't mean to criticize your department, but sometimes they can be a little lax with their research," she said, smiling unconvincingly. She continued, "I should like to see the full report on Mr. Abib's interrogation. I want to know every detail."

"The Department of Magical Law Enforcement handles all interrogations. I'll forward their report, as soon as I receive it," Angela replied.

Umbridge smiled indulgently. "You don't understand. I'd like the original transcript of the interrogation."

Angela's eyes opened wide in surprise. "That's highly irregular and against office policy. I'm sure that I can get you a copy of the transcript. To get the originals, you'll have to speak to Madam Bones directly. I have no authority to override her in this matter," Angela protested. She couldn't fathom why Umbridge would need the originals, unless she planned to do something underhanded with them.

Umbridge looked very displeased at being refused. Her wide smile faded. She continued in a falsely honeyed tone, "Well then, perhaps, you can do this for me? I should like a full report on all precedent court cases involving magic carpets."

Angela gulped. "How far back would you like me to go?"

"All the way back," Umbridge replied, smiling most unpleasantly.

"But there must be four thousand years of case history?" Angela objected. "The Nebuchadnezzar Archives contain one hundred volumes alone."

"Hem, hem," Umbridge coughed, interrupting Angela's protests. Then she continued in a sickly sweet voice, "Do I detect a hint of insubordination? Refuse me again and I'll make sure that you are put on probation."

As this point, Nebulus "Nebby" Boggs, Umbridge's assistant, poked his head into the room. He was a gangly wizard with a small pointed nose and over-large ears.

"Good afternoon, Madam," he replied in his most unctuous voice. "Pardon the interruption. I have just completed the drafts of your latest legislative proposals. I knew that you wouldn't want me to wait." He ignored Angela completely, as he sauntered over to Umbridge's desk and placed his parchments in front of her with a flourish.

He tapped the top parchment with a long finger and continued sycophantically, "I must tell you that your wording on the proposed decree to expel the centaurs from the forests of Hogwarts is absolutely compelling. I was so moved by your arguments. I don't see how anyone could refute them."

Angela rolled her eyes and suppressed a groan. The queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach was getting worse.

"Thank you, Boggs," Umbridge simpered, flashing him her most toad-like smile.

Boggs bowed fawningly and flipped to the second decree. He continued, "Your decree to establish an official registry of all werewolves is brilliant. But I really believe that we must do more for the protection of all wizard kind. After all, dangerous half-breeds should not be allowed to wander our countryside unrestrained. If you'll permit me, I have a few ideas on this subject. I was thinking of something along the lines of branding or maybe tagging. I've taken the liberty of writing them down for your perusal. I thought that you might like to include them."

This conversation made Angela feel extremely ill. Her greasy lunch didn't help matters any. The room began to feel very warm, as if it was closing in on her. Boggs' voice seemed to fade in and out. She blanched.

"Surely, you can't be serious? That's ghastly!" she protested in disbelief and horror.

It was then that Boggs first took notice of her. "Miss Hawkins, is it?" he said. "What did you say?"

Angela didn't answer. She had clenched her mouth tightly shut, trying desperately to keep her lunch down.

"What's the matter? Wolf got your tongue?" Umbridge remarked, tittering at her own little joke. Boggs immediately joined in with a phony raucous guffaw.

Angela was turning greener by the minute. They both turned in her direction, just as she vomited all over the parchments on Umbridge's desk.

"Sorry. Not feeling well. Excuse me," she muttered, clamping her hand over her mouth and bolting from the room.

She ran across the hall to the ladies restroom and proceeded to vomit the rest of her lunch into the nearest toilet. After a few minutes, she recovered herself and washed her face.

"What a hateful man!" she thought to herself, not the least bit sorry that she'd vomited on his hideous proposal.

She didn't return to Umbridge's office, but proceeded back to her own. She sat down at her desk and started filling out the requisition forms for the Abib case. It wasn't long before a young American, barely more than seventeen years old, flew down the corridor on a skateboard. He skidded to a halt in front of her cubicle and popped the skateboard up into the air, catching it in his hand. He peered over the partition at her.

"Hey, Angela," he greeted. "Ms. Penn said you needed me to move some boxes?"

"You're a little late, Phil. I had to move them all myself this morning," Angela scolded.

"Sorry," he said with a shrug, "but I only just got here. My friends and I were checking out the new Vert ramp at the park. It's so cool!" Phil nodded and smiled.

Angela just shook her head. This is always how things went with Phil. She should have expected as much.

Phil continued, "Oh, I just blew by Toad Lady's office. Heard that you just hurled on the old toad's desk."

"Yes, Phil." Angela nodded.

"Sweet! Wish I'd thought of that. You so totally rock!"

"Thanks, Phil. That helps," replied Angela, smiling for the first time all day.

Her smile didn't last long though, as Nebby Boggs slithered into her office a few minutes later. He carelessly tossed the pink folder on her desk with a look of displeasure.

"You left this," he snarled. "And you ruined my proposal, you know. The ink's unreadable now and I worked all morning on that."

"Good," Angela snapped back. "It was a dreadful proposal and it deserved to be destroyed."

He stared at her in shock for a moment. He had not anticipated so vehement a response. But he recovered quickly, now eyeing her disdainfully, and hissed, "I came here expecting an apology. Clearly, I misjudged you." He approached her desk, placed his long fingers on it, and leaned over toward her threateningly. Through clenched teeth, he menaced, "You might wish to reconsider your response. We will be working together these next few weeks and I can make your life very miserable."

With a look of contempt, Boggs turned and quickly swept off down the hall. As he walked away, he practically bowled over Ms. Penn, who was bustling down the corridor toward Angela's cubicle.

"Git! Why doesn't he look where he's going?" Colleen muttered under her breath. Then she swung into Angela's cubicle with a concerned look on her face. "Are you all right, Angela? I heard that you were ill in Umbridge's office."

"I'll be fine," Angela replied unconvincingly. Then she proceeded to tell her supervisor about the incident, her indignation at Boggs' heinous legislative proposal, and his threats.

"If you want my advice, I'd leave it be and steer clear of Mr. Boggs. He's a nasty piece of work. I wouldn't want to irritate him. The safest course of action is to keep your head low and do as Umbridge asks. This whole thing will blow over soon, you'll see," Colleen advised.

* * * * * * * * * * *

When Saturday finally arrived, Angela couldn't wait for her dueling lesson with Lupin. She arrived at Grimmauld Place hoping that the pleasant diversion would help take her mind off of the events of the previous week. But from the start, even the sparring lesson did not go well. Unable to concentrate, she had difficulty blocking many of Lupin's spells. A short time later, her arm was covered with angry stinging welts. Likewise, many of the hexes that she sent at him flew wide of their target. As her frustration mounted, her dueling only got worse. At last, Angela reached her breaking point. She swore and threw her wand across the room in anger.

"That was pathetic!" she said wretchedly, rubbing her arm.

"It's all right! Everyone has a bad day every once in a while," Lupin replied consolingly. "Here, let me see that arm." He took her hand in his and waved his wand over her arm, healing the welts. "That's enough for today. Come on. I'll make us some tea."

He escorted her out of the drawing room, stooping to pick up her wand on the way. Angela didn't say a word. She walked downstairs, dejectedly staring at the floor. All the while, her mood continued its downward spiral.

Once in the kitchen, Angela sank heavily into the nearest chair and stared down into her lap, her eyes dewy with tears. While she sat, Lupin filled an old teapot with fresh cool water and tapped it with his wand. A minute later, it was steaming hot and whistling. He walked to the cupboard, took out two cups, and poured their tea.

"I saw Arthur earlier. He let slip that you became ill in Umbridge's office," Lupin hinted. He placed a steaming teacup in front of her.

"Did he?" Angela rejoined with a sigh. "And did he mention that I threw up on her latest proposal for anti-werewolf legislation?"

"No," Lupin replied, nearly dropping his own teacup.

"It's true. It was hideous. Thankfully, her proposal got shot down in committee." She flashed Lupin a sympathetic look and continued, "Anyway, I had a terrible week. I was assigned to a case under the direction of Dolores Umbridge and had a run-in with her assistant, Nebulus Boggs. He's even worse than she is," she said with loathing.

"Worse than Umbridge? I doubt that's possible," Lupin remarked, scowling. He muttered something under his breath and then frowned.

Angela continued, "No, he's really dreadful. After that incident, Boggs convinced Umbridge that I am unreliable and that I need closer supervision. He hounded me all week, while I worked on the case. But that wasn't the worst part."

"Thursday night, while I was working late, someone broke into Madam Bones' office in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. They tried to modify the interrogation transcripts for my case, but Madam Bones must have used an Anti-Tampering Charm. Whoever it was, they didn't succeed. Then yesterday, a melted quill turned up in my office. They say that it's the one that was used in the tampering attempt. I swear that I had nothing to do with it! It must have been Nebby Boggs! But, of course, I can't prove it!" A tear rolled down her cheek.

"Anyway, I have to report to Madam Bones on Monday for a disciplinary hearing. I'll probably lose my job over this. The only good part is that I'm now off the case," she concluded dejectedly, wiping the tear from her cheek and dropping her head into her hands.

Lupin sat down beside her and put his arm around her shoulder. "Amelia Bones is fair. She'll sort this out, you'll see," he said quietly. "I'm sure it will be fine."

She looked up at him wanly and mumbled, "I hope you're right."

"You know, in all the conversations that we've had, this is the first time that you've ever discussed your job."

"Ironic, isn't it? Eight years at that job and I'll probably be sacked on Monday," she replied wryly. "Well, it's not a very interesting job anyway. Not glamorous or exciting. It's mostly mountains of tedious paperwork."

"Don't say that! I'd be happy to get any job that paid a steady wage," he rejoined. "And what about the trials? Some of them must be interesting?"

"Yes, that's true," she replied with an apologetic glance at Lupin. The slightest hint of a smile appeared around her lips. She continued, "We aren't allowed to discuss our pending cases. But ask me next week to tell you about Mr. Abib. I think that you'll like him."

"But you're not on the case anymore," he coaxed.

"Nice try!" said Angela, now smiling.

"Are you feeling a bit better?" he asked. She nodded. "Then how about dinner?"

* * * * * * * * * * *

On the following Monday morning, Angela walked toward Madam Bones' office in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, feeling distinctly nervous. As she passed by the Auror cubicles, both Kingsley and Tonks waved at her.

"Good luck, Angela," intoned Kingsley's deep base voice. Beside him, Tonks crossed her fingers and held them up for Angela to see.

Angela gave them both a half-hearted nod and gravely continued down the hall. She stopped in front of an imposing door with a sign that read "Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement." She hesitated for a moment, steeled her resolve, and knocked.

"Come in," boomed a voice from inside the office.

Angela opened the door to find herself face to face with a forbidding-looking witch with short gray hair and a monocle.

"Good morning, Madam Bones," Angela greeted, her voice shaking slightly.

"Come in, Miss Hawkins. Please sit down," Madam Bones replied, an austere expression etched on her face.

Angela took her seat as instructed and stared straight ahead, bracing for the worst. Seated next to Madam Bones was Angela's supervisor, Colleen Penn, looking equally severe. There was no sympathetic smile for Angela today.

"Miss Hawkins, you stand accused of breaking into this office on the evening of October eighth and attempting to tamper with the interrogation transcripts from the case file of Mr. Ali Abib. Do you understand the seriousness of this situation?" Madam Bones began.

"Yes, ma'am," Angela replied earnestly. "And I swear to you that I didn't do it."

"That remains to be seen," Madam Bones rejoined sternly. "Where were you on the night of the eighth?"

"I had dinner in my office at about six o'clock. Then I went down to the Court Archives and remained there from about six thirty to about eleven o'clock. After which, I stopped back at my office to collect my things and left," said Angela.

"What were you doing in the Court Archives?"

"Compiling a report for Dolores Umbridge. She asked for a complete report on all precedent court cases involving magic carpets," Angela answered.

"Surely, you don't mean all precedent court cases?" Madam Bones inquired incredulously, her stare boring into Angela.

"Yes, ma'am, that's what she requested," insisted Angela. She squirmed uncomfortably under the inquisitor's glare, but did not look away.

"But there must be nearly four thousand years of history?" boomed Madam Bones.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Can anyone else confirm your whereabouts on the night of the eighth?"

"No, ma'am, I saw no one else," Angela replied quietly.

Madam Bones adjusted her monocle and stared sternly across the desk at Angela. "Well, Miss Hawkins, I would like to believe you, but the evidence suggests otherwise. You admit to being in the building on the night in question. No one can confirm your story. The quill used in the attempt was found in your possession on the following day. I'm afraid that the only reasonable conclusion is that you are guilty as charged. Therefore, I must recommend disciplinary action." Madam Bones then turned to her colleague and continued, "What is your opinion, Colleen?"

Colleen nodded. "Angela, I think you should know that Dolores Umbridge has filed a most unfavorable report on your work on the Abib case. She has accused you of insubordination and recommends disciplinary action. Her assistant, Nebulus Boggs, has testified that he saw you with the melted quill. He was the one who tipped off the Aurors to search your cubicle. I am under heavy pressure to find and punish the person responsible. As it stands, all the evidence points to you. I would not have believed you capable of this, but my hands are tied."

These remarks were interrupted by a commotion in the hallway outside the office, followed by a sharp rap on the door. Annoyed at being interrupted, Madam Bones went to the door and peered outside with her most forbidding expression on her face.

"Yes?" she barked.

Standing nonchalantly just outside the door was Phil, holding his skateboard in his hand. When she saw him, Madam Bones opened her eyes so widely that the monocle fell from her face. She recovered just in time to catch it. She replaced it in her eye and stared at him disapprovingly.

"Hey, Madam Bones! Hey, Ms. Penn! Hey, Angela!" he greeted, waving and grinning from ear to ear.

"Who are you? And what can I do you for?" she asked impatiently.

"Oh, yeah, name's Phil...Philip Davis. I came because Angela didn't do it. I saw the guy that did!"

"Perhaps you'd better come inside and have a seat, Mr. Davis," replied Madam Bones, motioning for him to enter.

Phil sauntered into the room and plopped down on a chair. He leaned back lazily, stretching his long legs out in front of him and looking curiously around the room. He did not seem to be the least bit intimidated by Madam Bones.

"Phil is our office boy. He runs errands and such for us," Colleen explained to Madam Bones. Then she turned to Phil. "Phil, please tell us exactly what you saw on the night of October eighth."

Phil leaned forward in his chair and began animatedly, "I was, like, taking stuff sublevel for Ms. Penn, here, on my board after hours. And I was having, like, this awesome run, pulling tricks. I, like, caught a serious grind on the stair rails near the drinking fountain. Then I did, like, three wheelies. By the Auror's corridor, I was really flying. Then I came around the corner. And there was this dude, coming out of your office. And I was, like, 'Hey!'" Phil's eyes bugged out. "And he was, like, 'Whoa!'" Phil leaned to the right in his chair. "And I was, like, 'Whoa!'" Phil leaned to the left in his chair. "Then he was, like, outta there. So I was, like, 'Whatever.'" Phil shrugged. "And then I hit the stairs and, like, caught some serious air. Righteous!" Phil pumped his fist in the air. "It was my best run of the night!" Phil concluded, leaning back again in his chair and grinning broadly.

Madam Bones' thick eyebrows were now raised so high that the monocle fell again, but this time it clattered on the desktop. It was clear that she didn't have the least notion what he was saying. After a moment of stunned silence, she recovered her composure.

Colleen cleared her throat and addressed Madam Bones, "I think what Phil is trying to say is that he was taking boxes down to the storeroom on his skateboard and saw a man coming out of your office."

"Yeah!" said Phil, nodding his head in agreement.

Madam Bones looked back at Phil and asked, "And are you quite sure that this person coming from my office was not Miss Hawkins?"

"Duh? I was really flying, but I know a dude when I see one. Angela's a total babe. This was no babe," said Phil.

With a perplexed expression on her face, Madam Bones looked over at Colleen for a translation.

"He said that he's certain that the person that he saw was a man," Colleen offered.

"And are you willing to testify to this in front of the disciplinary committee?" inquired Madam Bones, turning back to Phil.

"Yeah!" said Phil, nodding.

Turning to Angela, Madam Bones concluded, "Well, Miss Hawkins, it appears that we owe you an apology. You are free to go."

"Thank you, ma'am," Angela replied, obviously relieved. As she rose to leave, she flashed Phil a grateful smile and whispered, "Thanks. You rock!"

Elated, Angela arrived back at her office a few minutes later. Her eyes opened wide with surprise, when she found Lupin waiting for her there. He was wearing a visitor's badge that read "Remus Lupin, Moral Support."

"Remus!" she exclaimed excitedly.

Forgetting herself, she threw her arms around him in an exuberant hug. He patted her back timidly and smiled awkwardly. Recovering her composure, she released him and stepped back, blushing with embarrassment.

"I got off," Angela said quietly, looking up at him shyly and turning an even deeper shade of crimson.

"So I gathered," Lupin replied, grinning broadly. "This calls for a celebration. Can I take you out to lunch?"

"That would be lovely!" she replied. "I'll get my cloak."

"Right then. I spotted a little pie shop just around the corner," he suggested with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Angela froze, the smile fading momentarily from her face. "Er...I think that I'd prefer fish and chips today."

Seeing her expression, Lupin just chuckled.

"Honestly! How did you know?" she exclaimed, now laughing with him, as they left the building together.