(no subject)
Title: Love, Luck, Lust and Loss
Author: apostrophe_ess
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JKR, I merely gain from playing these games in her playground.
Pairing/Character: Minerva McGonagall (aged 21), Tonio Vuela, Dora Concertare and a variety of other employees of the Italian Ministry of Magic
Word Count: 3,660
Rating: G
Summary: Back in Italy things are hotting up for Minerva and her colleagues. There is a hole to be plugged, hopefully before anything vital leaks one way or the other.
Author's Notes: A second story for millieweasley's history challenge **here**.
Part: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen.
Link to part fifteen
Part Fourteen: Chapter Ten, Part I - Il mago inquinato
25th November 1946
As one door closes, another opens, was a favourite saying of someone in Minerva’s family. She didn’t remember exactly who, which was a shame. Because right now whoever the person was would regret it. No matter how many hundreds of miles it was between Italy and Scotland, they’d know her displeasure.
One door closes and another opens, my wand.
The ‘door’ between England and France had closed and left Kiely behind it, the door between France and, eventually, Italy had opened and she’d been greeted with …
A sharp hiss of disgust left Minerva’s lips at the thought. Being an accomplished witch was all well and good usually, but at this moment she might have just as well been a squibb. Not an Italian squibb with a career ahead of her regardless of her lack of magical ability, but a British squibb. A useless and impotent squibb, a squibb who was worthless in society.
At a different time, any different time, Minerva would be angry with herself or anyone for having such thoughts. But now she wasn’t. Now Minerva ranted inwardly to herself, bemoaning the misfortune that was currently hers. Later she would feel guilt, later when her anger had burned itself out. Right now the anger was too enjoyable to let that happen. Enjoyable and therapeutic.
But why was she angry? Minerva would ask herself that in days to come. Yes the weather wasn’t particularly attractive. The skies had opened as if Noah was working hard on the high ground. She was wet through and it wasn’t particularly comfortable. But she was a witch, and as soon as she was free from the restrictions of a Muggle area then she could rectify the discomfort. The problem was after all transient, small, hardly worth being irate about.
Being wet, and a witch who was unable to do anything about it, wasn’t really good enough cause for a temper such as hers, was it?
Carefully Minerva scanned the street in Parma, the one she’d last stood on in the dead of night a week or two before with Tonio. She tried to keep one eye on the doorway to the apartment that Tonio had visited, while keeping the other roaming on those that walked by in the street. Rather than standing back in the shadows of the wall as they had before, this time Minerva was waiting near a bus stop. Each time a bus came by, she stood back and let it pass, then she moved back closer to stand next to the bus stop again. The few Muggle cars on the street were annoying, the sounds of their engines noisy and irritating, and the smell of their fumes disgusting. She’d heard it said that there would be more of this in the weeks and months to come, that Italy’s economy was on the up with a new Muggle government and that things were improving. Minerva couldn’t agree that an increase in automobiles was a good thing and certainly right now she didn’t consider it an improvement. As it was there was little she could do to avoid the noise, the odour, or the large amount of spray they threw up. Magic just wasn’t a possibility surrounded in one of the busiest times of the day, lunchtime, by people everywhere. Hopefully she would have returned to Britain before there were any more of the beasts.
The weather and the side effects of motor cars wasn’t totally to blame for Minerva’s mood however. There was something else. Something that she couldn’t put her finger on. Something that was controlling her thoughts. No, more than her thoughts. Something that was controlling her whole physical being and even if she’d had the faculty to consider what it might be she’d have had no idea. It was like being possessed by something that had taken hold of her. Like some particularly cantankerous person had used an unforgivable curse to control her. There was nothing Minerva could do but be swept along in the ball of anger that consumed her.
It was only the almost indiscernible opening and closing of the door that opened onto the staircase leading up to the apartment that distracted Minerva enough not to react to a particularly aggressive spray of water at the wheels of a motorcar which sped along the road beeping its horn constantly. Almost without looking each side of her Minerva crossed the road and took a new stand close to the door. Whoever had gone in there would come out sooner or later, and she had the rest of the afternoon to go before she was relieved from her post. With any luck before too long she would see whoever it was.
Standing, with the slightest protection afforded by an overhanging canopy in someone’s window, Minerva allowed her thoughts to slip back over the last few days. She’d been back in Italy for a week now, although it seemed so much longer in many ways. Each day for that week there had been heavy rain, although today was the worst. Each day for that week she had started the day at the ufficio di Magio Sinistro and waited for instructions to report somewhere to work. Each day that somewhere she had to work had been the particular street in Parma where was now standing, wet seeping down the back of her neck as the water repellent charm she’d applied before arriving finally wore completely off.
Minerva had learned much from starting her days in the office. Not all, or even very much, of it was in relation to the job of work the whole department was involved with currently. If the truth was to be told then part of the reason for her ill humour right now was as a direct consequence of what she had learned. Her words to Jocelyn of little more than a week ago came back to her constantly ’he’s not boyfriend material, Jocelyn’. Minerva didn’t know whether to be pleased that her intuition had not failed her in her appraisal of the situation, or to be disappointed that despite knowing Tonio Vuela was a play wizard she’d still had sex with him. What’s more he was a play wizard she’d had sex with and enjoyed doing so enough to feel disappointed the next day when their plans had been disrupted by returning to Stegonia.
The way the other witches and the female squbbs talked about Tonio over thick black coffee each morning had confirmed everything Minerva thought. There were more rumours about him than anyone Minerva had ever heard of before, more stories, more theories, more speculation. Tonio Veula was the wizard in many of their eyes. What wouldn’t one or two give to spend a night with him, to find out if the rumours were true that he was the best lover ever known at the Ministry, if he could last all night and into the next day, if he could take witches to places no other ever could. She’d heard how he’d apparently bedded, and satisfied, two sisters at once and then on another occasion their mother as well. Minerva took the information with a peck of sneezewort, said nothing and proffered indifference, apparently allowing the conversation to pass over her head. The other girls suspected that she wasn’t quite as disinterested or oblivious as she appeared, but they too said nothing. Never would she divulge that she could answer some of their questions, and furthermore she hoped that he wouldn’t do so either - ever.
She’d been standing on this piece of Parma roadway now for the best part of four days. Something had to change soon, didn’t it? They had to appear in such a way as they could be followed before too long. If she went back yet again without a confirmed sighting, without a name, then it just appeared she hadn’t been trying hard enough.
At least the rain eased the need for taking a break for a drink. The moisture in the air stopped her fluid levels from dropping too severely. Yesterday she’d needed to purchase a drink and missed their departure from the flat. On hearing the door shut, she’d run from the shop and seen only the backs of their heels disappearing around the corner. By the time she’d caught up and followed, the next street was empty, the crack of Apparition still in the air. The previous day it hadn’t been obtaining a drink that was to blame for her perhaps missing them, but the necessary bathroom stop that followed it a little later on. Today she was determined that nothing was going to stop her. Whoever they were, these men, she was going to see them, follow them, and identify them if she was unable to achieve anything else.
“ Scusami.”
Minerva turned to the soft voice, smiled and raised an eye brow. “Can I help you?” Neither the voice nor the young man were familiar to her. It was unusual for her to be interrupted by anyone while working. So far she’d not been contacted here and so it seemed unlikely that he was even a Ministry worker.
“You are to return.”
“I beg your pardon?” Minerva asked, delaying a coherent response in the hope of deducing whether the young man was, or not, someone legitimate. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“I will take your place. Signora Concertare has recalled you.”
Minerva felt a little taken aback. That there was no system in place for such occasion suddenly seemed futile. What if she was being misled? What if she had been spotted standing around the street for the last days? What if …? “Signora Concertare?” she asked, the inflection in her voice inferring she had no recollection of the name or who the person might be.
“There has been an emergency. You are to report to the Ministry ufficio in Incantevole Sibillini. My name is Nuncio Pietra, I am a colleague of Tonio Vuela, he is waiting for you in the ufficio.”
Minerva nodded, and turned to walk away, returning after only three or four steps. “They went into the building about half an hour ago. I have seen or heard nothing since.”
The quick march to the Apparition point, safe from the sight of Muggles, helped to dissipate the remains of Minerva’s frustrated anger. An emergency? She wondered what that could mean. Had Fenrir Greyback been spotted once more in the area? Had Ercole Marsalis been found, or turned up? Had something happened at home? Kiely? Minerva’s heart beat hard as the pits of her stomach knotted at the thought. Had something happened to Kiely? Instinctively she reached to touch the stone, nestling against her skin and knew at the precise moment she did that it wasn’t Kiely.
“Minerva McGonagall,” she told the fachino as he took her wand
to confirm it was the case. Upon being told to go through, Minerva went to the same outer office she had sat in on her first visit to Dora’s office, and every visit since.
Dora greeted Minerva and asked her some questions about her observation work over the last few days. Had she seen anyone? Could she identify them? Had she heard them speak? Did she see anything that caused her any alarm? How many people had she seen? Was it always the same ones? Had she seen them anywhere before? Was there anything else she’d like to tell Dora?
Minerva answered honestly. Her words, as usual, were met with Dora’s usual apparent stony and cold indifference. She made no comment, took no note, passed no expression, and just waited for Minerva to finish. This technique, Dora had found over time was excellent for extricating just a little more information than one would expect otherwise. Early on in her tenure of this post she had found that by passing comment, or acknowledging the information by even the slightest nod of the head the speaker tended to dry up, assuming approval of the quality and quantity of information passed. Sitting stony faced just as if she was waiting for more information pushed the person a little further than they’d ever have dreamed of going otherwise.
As on Minerva’s first visit to the office the door behind her opened and footsteps made their way towards the desk at which the two woman sat, one either side. The room was large, there was quite a distance for the newcomer to the meeting to cover. The footsteps sounded familiar to Minerva. They were measured, firm, and secure.
She fought the urge to turn her head and to check her suspicions and kept her stance directed towards Dora. A second chair materialised next to Minerva’s. Deep plush pale green velvet with an intricate frame of dark wood, the chairs merely teased at being comfortable. The base was sumptuous, but the back insisted that the seated remained upright and thus their concentration peaked.
“Signor Vuela,” Dora offered as Tonio slipped into the seat beside Minerva. “I need for you and Signora McGonagall to work together.”
If Dora had been an accomplished Legilimens she would have seen two quite surprising and conflicting reactions from those sitting in front of her. In Tonio Vuela’s thoughts was a surge of hope. If he was able to spend some more time with Minerva then he stood a chance of impressing upon her his seriousness towards her. His heart and mood felt lighter already just seated next to Minerva, the weight and worry that he might not be afforded a chance to put his case, to renounce his old ways sliding away, temporarily at least.
Within Minerva’s head raged a battle. She could still recognise a level of attraction for the man beside her. They had shared at one time a physical experience of excellence that some woman possibly didn’t in their whole lives. She did not want to do so again, however. She had since plighted herself to Kiely, morally if not legally. She now wore his stone around her neck, nestling into her breasts, as a symbol of such pledge. To work with Tonio could be dangerous, and not in the way that Dora was currently suggesting. She knows she will have to protect herself and Tonio, both magically in the face of danger, and personally in the face of, well in the face of the undoubted chemistry that was Tonio.
Minerva wasn’t sure she agreed with Dora that the current situation should be graded as an emergency. She understood that the Italians are extremely worried, that is after all the reason that she is here. But it doesn’t seem something to panic about.
That there are other British people in Italy is no surprise. Minerva herself had previously reported that Fenrir Greyback had been spotted, and the information she had gleaned at home confirmed that he was no longer in his usual haunts there. Knockturn Alley had not witnessed his presence since before the supposed rumoured death of Tom Riddle. In fact, Deon Crouch had confirmed, his name was amongst those suspected of having a hand in Riddle’s killing. Whenever, and however, that had taken place, if it had. Minerva hoped for a coded message from the Aurors before too long confirming one way or the other the suspicions.
“The thing is,” Tonio was explaining further as they slipped into a booth in Oseria L’Infedele, still Minerva’s favourite pasta restaurant on the piazza in Stegonia. “The problem isn’t the British people who are here, it is the number of them. We have, my dear lady, a problem with the borders.”
Minerva scoffed. There was no problem with the borders that she had seen. The system, overbearing that it was, had worked well for her. “Are you saying,” she asked, taking a forkful of fettuccini dripping with a rich sauce, “that if I were to invite a friend to stay with me they could just pass into the country, whereas I, here to work on behalf of your Ministry, had to be accompanied by a variety of officials?”
Tonio shook his head and lifted the large glass full of rich red wine. “I’m saying that if you are a certain type of person and you know the right place to pass the border then you will do so with no trouble at all. What I am saying, Minerva McGonagall, is that we have on our side a weak link. A weak link that you and I are going to find.”
It was hard not to grin back at the enthusiastic way Tonio put forward the words and his intentions for them. “We are?”
“With your intuition and my knowledge then we will once again triumph, and become successful. Together we will be good.”
Minerva smiled in controlled fashion. “Professionally, we will be unbeatable.”
“And after hours?”
“After hours we will each go our separate ways and,” she dropped her voice, leaning forward across the table, “will make sure that things stay purely on a businesslike but friendly footing.”
“That’s no problem with me rischioso,” Tonio quipped, raising an eyebrow playfully.
“Tonio. I’m not joking.”
“Neither am I. Now, if you’d like to drink up I’ll walk you back to your apartment and return to my own. I think a good night’s sleep is needed by all. Tomorrow we have things to do.”
By the time Tonio arrived to meet Minerva the following morning he had drawn up a list of their colleagues whose work was involved in maintaining security at the borders. Most of them he knew in one way or another. Perhaps he’d worked with them at some point, or undertaken Ministry training alongside them. One or two he knew in a social manner, and some he remembered from his own education as either being in his year, or older. There were, however, three names that Tonio didn’t recognise. On the north eastern border with Austria the name Clemente Drago was underlined as being unfamiliar to him. Between the west of Switzerland and Italy the borders were taken care of by Nikita Dolohov, while Crista Taddeo upheld their rights with Slovakia. It was with those three people Tonio proposed they should begin their work.
Minerva listened intently as Tonio gave her a potted biography, as far as he was able, with the details of the group of a dozen other staff. She’d met two particular ones herself, of course, on her own border crossings at the east of Switzerland. Neither of them had caused her to have any suspicions. There had been nothing untoward that she’d noticed, but she emphasised to Tonio that didn’t rule them out. She was more than happy to begin their investigations with those he didn’t know, but she felt that unless they were able to confirm without question one of them was a mago inquinato a dirty magician, then they should keep an open mind on the others, whoever they were and however well they were known.
The weather on the border with Slovakia was wetter and windier than it had been in Parma or Stegonia. Minerva and Tonio had prepared well for the trip with outer cloaks that were far more substantial than those they’d worn previously.
They planned to meet with Crista Taddeo, Clemente Drago and Nikita Dolohov under the pretence of checking Ministry systems with a view to relaxing the rules and asking the advice of those having to uphold the current ones. They would refer to no-one else by name, or border position, but would impress upon each of them that although their answers were vital to the freedom of Italy they were part of a larger sample. Minerva’s recent experiences crossing the borders would stand them in good stead as a measure of what was currently happening, as well as Tonio’s in depth knowledge about what should be happening.
Crista Taddeo was a witch who gave the impression of being totally professional, businesslike and organised. Very straightforward, and smart, she kept meticulous records of every person who came to the border, whether they crossed or not. In conversation she calmly and pleasantly passed her advice for certain relaxations, areas of their systems that she thought would be a mistake to relax, and even a point or two where if the rules were tightened up then Italy would remain secure.
Tonio and Minerva thanked Crista warmly, shook her hand, and left for the local coffee shop to discuss their impressions. Tonio agreed entirely with Minerva’s instincts that Crista Taddeo was not in any way, shape, or form their mago inquinato and in fact she was someone who they would recommend most highly to Dora for consideration should any policy making be required with regard to border crossings. Something that was quite likely to be needed before too long in the light of reasons for, and the likely conclusions to, their investigations.
Clemente Drago was a shifty man in Minerva’s opinion. Initially and outwardly he gave the same sort of responses to the points that Minerva and Tonio raised with him. His answers were barely different to those of Crista, with the exception of her ideas to tighten up some procedures. His record keeping was apparently exemplary also. In fact objectively he was also doing a more than satisfactory job. If they had been completing a check list of things that should, or should not, have been taking place, Clemente Drago would have achieved an excellent score.
However, as Minerva explained to Tonio later over coffee once again, every time he was asked a difficult question his eyes skated quickly from side to side, and a little vein high on his temple, almost under his very dark fringe pulsed. He was not, she was sure, being entirely honest. It was too soon to say that Clemente Drago was their man, but if right now she was asked to lay down a galleon as a wager, it would most definitely be placed firmly against his name.
Author: apostrophe_ess
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JKR, I merely gain from playing these games in her playground.
Pairing/Character: Minerva McGonagall (aged 21), Tonio Vuela, Dora Concertare and a variety of other employees of the Italian Ministry of Magic
Word Count: 3,660
Rating: G
Summary: Back in Italy things are hotting up for Minerva and her colleagues. There is a hole to be plugged, hopefully before anything vital leaks one way or the other.
Author's Notes: A second story for millieweasley's history challenge **here**.
Part: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen.
Link to part fifteen
Part Fourteen: Chapter Ten, Part I - Il mago inquinato
25th November 1946
As one door closes, another opens, was a favourite saying of someone in Minerva’s family. She didn’t remember exactly who, which was a shame. Because right now whoever the person was would regret it. No matter how many hundreds of miles it was between Italy and Scotland, they’d know her displeasure.
One door closes and another opens, my wand.
The ‘door’ between England and France had closed and left Kiely behind it, the door between France and, eventually, Italy had opened and she’d been greeted with …
A sharp hiss of disgust left Minerva’s lips at the thought. Being an accomplished witch was all well and good usually, but at this moment she might have just as well been a squibb. Not an Italian squibb with a career ahead of her regardless of her lack of magical ability, but a British squibb. A useless and impotent squibb, a squibb who was worthless in society.
At a different time, any different time, Minerva would be angry with herself or anyone for having such thoughts. But now she wasn’t. Now Minerva ranted inwardly to herself, bemoaning the misfortune that was currently hers. Later she would feel guilt, later when her anger had burned itself out. Right now the anger was too enjoyable to let that happen. Enjoyable and therapeutic.
But why was she angry? Minerva would ask herself that in days to come. Yes the weather wasn’t particularly attractive. The skies had opened as if Noah was working hard on the high ground. She was wet through and it wasn’t particularly comfortable. But she was a witch, and as soon as she was free from the restrictions of a Muggle area then she could rectify the discomfort. The problem was after all transient, small, hardly worth being irate about.
Being wet, and a witch who was unable to do anything about it, wasn’t really good enough cause for a temper such as hers, was it?
Carefully Minerva scanned the street in Parma, the one she’d last stood on in the dead of night a week or two before with Tonio. She tried to keep one eye on the doorway to the apartment that Tonio had visited, while keeping the other roaming on those that walked by in the street. Rather than standing back in the shadows of the wall as they had before, this time Minerva was waiting near a bus stop. Each time a bus came by, she stood back and let it pass, then she moved back closer to stand next to the bus stop again. The few Muggle cars on the street were annoying, the sounds of their engines noisy and irritating, and the smell of their fumes disgusting. She’d heard it said that there would be more of this in the weeks and months to come, that Italy’s economy was on the up with a new Muggle government and that things were improving. Minerva couldn’t agree that an increase in automobiles was a good thing and certainly right now she didn’t consider it an improvement. As it was there was little she could do to avoid the noise, the odour, or the large amount of spray they threw up. Magic just wasn’t a possibility surrounded in one of the busiest times of the day, lunchtime, by people everywhere. Hopefully she would have returned to Britain before there were any more of the beasts.
The weather and the side effects of motor cars wasn’t totally to blame for Minerva’s mood however. There was something else. Something that she couldn’t put her finger on. Something that was controlling her thoughts. No, more than her thoughts. Something that was controlling her whole physical being and even if she’d had the faculty to consider what it might be she’d have had no idea. It was like being possessed by something that had taken hold of her. Like some particularly cantankerous person had used an unforgivable curse to control her. There was nothing Minerva could do but be swept along in the ball of anger that consumed her.
It was only the almost indiscernible opening and closing of the door that opened onto the staircase leading up to the apartment that distracted Minerva enough not to react to a particularly aggressive spray of water at the wheels of a motorcar which sped along the road beeping its horn constantly. Almost without looking each side of her Minerva crossed the road and took a new stand close to the door. Whoever had gone in there would come out sooner or later, and she had the rest of the afternoon to go before she was relieved from her post. With any luck before too long she would see whoever it was.
Standing, with the slightest protection afforded by an overhanging canopy in someone’s window, Minerva allowed her thoughts to slip back over the last few days. She’d been back in Italy for a week now, although it seemed so much longer in many ways. Each day for that week there had been heavy rain, although today was the worst. Each day for that week she had started the day at the ufficio di Magio Sinistro and waited for instructions to report somewhere to work. Each day that somewhere she had to work had been the particular street in Parma where was now standing, wet seeping down the back of her neck as the water repellent charm she’d applied before arriving finally wore completely off.
Minerva had learned much from starting her days in the office. Not all, or even very much, of it was in relation to the job of work the whole department was involved with currently. If the truth was to be told then part of the reason for her ill humour right now was as a direct consequence of what she had learned. Her words to Jocelyn of little more than a week ago came back to her constantly ’he’s not boyfriend material, Jocelyn’. Minerva didn’t know whether to be pleased that her intuition had not failed her in her appraisal of the situation, or to be disappointed that despite knowing Tonio Vuela was a play wizard she’d still had sex with him. What’s more he was a play wizard she’d had sex with and enjoyed doing so enough to feel disappointed the next day when their plans had been disrupted by returning to Stegonia.
The way the other witches and the female squbbs talked about Tonio over thick black coffee each morning had confirmed everything Minerva thought. There were more rumours about him than anyone Minerva had ever heard of before, more stories, more theories, more speculation. Tonio Veula was the wizard in many of their eyes. What wouldn’t one or two give to spend a night with him, to find out if the rumours were true that he was the best lover ever known at the Ministry, if he could last all night and into the next day, if he could take witches to places no other ever could. She’d heard how he’d apparently bedded, and satisfied, two sisters at once and then on another occasion their mother as well. Minerva took the information with a peck of sneezewort, said nothing and proffered indifference, apparently allowing the conversation to pass over her head. The other girls suspected that she wasn’t quite as disinterested or oblivious as she appeared, but they too said nothing. Never would she divulge that she could answer some of their questions, and furthermore she hoped that he wouldn’t do so either - ever.
She’d been standing on this piece of Parma roadway now for the best part of four days. Something had to change soon, didn’t it? They had to appear in such a way as they could be followed before too long. If she went back yet again without a confirmed sighting, without a name, then it just appeared she hadn’t been trying hard enough.
At least the rain eased the need for taking a break for a drink. The moisture in the air stopped her fluid levels from dropping too severely. Yesterday she’d needed to purchase a drink and missed their departure from the flat. On hearing the door shut, she’d run from the shop and seen only the backs of their heels disappearing around the corner. By the time she’d caught up and followed, the next street was empty, the crack of Apparition still in the air. The previous day it hadn’t been obtaining a drink that was to blame for her perhaps missing them, but the necessary bathroom stop that followed it a little later on. Today she was determined that nothing was going to stop her. Whoever they were, these men, she was going to see them, follow them, and identify them if she was unable to achieve anything else.
“ Scusami.”
Minerva turned to the soft voice, smiled and raised an eye brow. “Can I help you?” Neither the voice nor the young man were familiar to her. It was unusual for her to be interrupted by anyone while working. So far she’d not been contacted here and so it seemed unlikely that he was even a Ministry worker.
“You are to return.”
“I beg your pardon?” Minerva asked, delaying a coherent response in the hope of deducing whether the young man was, or not, someone legitimate. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“I will take your place. Signora Concertare has recalled you.”
Minerva felt a little taken aback. That there was no system in place for such occasion suddenly seemed futile. What if she was being misled? What if she had been spotted standing around the street for the last days? What if …? “Signora Concertare?” she asked, the inflection in her voice inferring she had no recollection of the name or who the person might be.
“There has been an emergency. You are to report to the Ministry ufficio in Incantevole Sibillini. My name is Nuncio Pietra, I am a colleague of Tonio Vuela, he is waiting for you in the ufficio.”
Minerva nodded, and turned to walk away, returning after only three or four steps. “They went into the building about half an hour ago. I have seen or heard nothing since.”
The quick march to the Apparition point, safe from the sight of Muggles, helped to dissipate the remains of Minerva’s frustrated anger. An emergency? She wondered what that could mean. Had Fenrir Greyback been spotted once more in the area? Had Ercole Marsalis been found, or turned up? Had something happened at home? Kiely? Minerva’s heart beat hard as the pits of her stomach knotted at the thought. Had something happened to Kiely? Instinctively she reached to touch the stone, nestling against her skin and knew at the precise moment she did that it wasn’t Kiely.
“Minerva McGonagall,” she told the fachino as he took her wand
to confirm it was the case. Upon being told to go through, Minerva went to the same outer office she had sat in on her first visit to Dora’s office, and every visit since.
Dora greeted Minerva and asked her some questions about her observation work over the last few days. Had she seen anyone? Could she identify them? Had she heard them speak? Did she see anything that caused her any alarm? How many people had she seen? Was it always the same ones? Had she seen them anywhere before? Was there anything else she’d like to tell Dora?
Minerva answered honestly. Her words, as usual, were met with Dora’s usual apparent stony and cold indifference. She made no comment, took no note, passed no expression, and just waited for Minerva to finish. This technique, Dora had found over time was excellent for extricating just a little more information than one would expect otherwise. Early on in her tenure of this post she had found that by passing comment, or acknowledging the information by even the slightest nod of the head the speaker tended to dry up, assuming approval of the quality and quantity of information passed. Sitting stony faced just as if she was waiting for more information pushed the person a little further than they’d ever have dreamed of going otherwise.
As on Minerva’s first visit to the office the door behind her opened and footsteps made their way towards the desk at which the two woman sat, one either side. The room was large, there was quite a distance for the newcomer to the meeting to cover. The footsteps sounded familiar to Minerva. They were measured, firm, and secure.
She fought the urge to turn her head and to check her suspicions and kept her stance directed towards Dora. A second chair materialised next to Minerva’s. Deep plush pale green velvet with an intricate frame of dark wood, the chairs merely teased at being comfortable. The base was sumptuous, but the back insisted that the seated remained upright and thus their concentration peaked.
“Signor Vuela,” Dora offered as Tonio slipped into the seat beside Minerva. “I need for you and Signora McGonagall to work together.”
If Dora had been an accomplished Legilimens she would have seen two quite surprising and conflicting reactions from those sitting in front of her. In Tonio Vuela’s thoughts was a surge of hope. If he was able to spend some more time with Minerva then he stood a chance of impressing upon her his seriousness towards her. His heart and mood felt lighter already just seated next to Minerva, the weight and worry that he might not be afforded a chance to put his case, to renounce his old ways sliding away, temporarily at least.
Within Minerva’s head raged a battle. She could still recognise a level of attraction for the man beside her. They had shared at one time a physical experience of excellence that some woman possibly didn’t in their whole lives. She did not want to do so again, however. She had since plighted herself to Kiely, morally if not legally. She now wore his stone around her neck, nestling into her breasts, as a symbol of such pledge. To work with Tonio could be dangerous, and not in the way that Dora was currently suggesting. She knows she will have to protect herself and Tonio, both magically in the face of danger, and personally in the face of, well in the face of the undoubted chemistry that was Tonio.
Minerva wasn’t sure she agreed with Dora that the current situation should be graded as an emergency. She understood that the Italians are extremely worried, that is after all the reason that she is here. But it doesn’t seem something to panic about.
That there are other British people in Italy is no surprise. Minerva herself had previously reported that Fenrir Greyback had been spotted, and the information she had gleaned at home confirmed that he was no longer in his usual haunts there. Knockturn Alley had not witnessed his presence since before the supposed rumoured death of Tom Riddle. In fact, Deon Crouch had confirmed, his name was amongst those suspected of having a hand in Riddle’s killing. Whenever, and however, that had taken place, if it had. Minerva hoped for a coded message from the Aurors before too long confirming one way or the other the suspicions.
“The thing is,” Tonio was explaining further as they slipped into a booth in Oseria L’Infedele, still Minerva’s favourite pasta restaurant on the piazza in Stegonia. “The problem isn’t the British people who are here, it is the number of them. We have, my dear lady, a problem with the borders.”
Minerva scoffed. There was no problem with the borders that she had seen. The system, overbearing that it was, had worked well for her. “Are you saying,” she asked, taking a forkful of fettuccini dripping with a rich sauce, “that if I were to invite a friend to stay with me they could just pass into the country, whereas I, here to work on behalf of your Ministry, had to be accompanied by a variety of officials?”
Tonio shook his head and lifted the large glass full of rich red wine. “I’m saying that if you are a certain type of person and you know the right place to pass the border then you will do so with no trouble at all. What I am saying, Minerva McGonagall, is that we have on our side a weak link. A weak link that you and I are going to find.”
It was hard not to grin back at the enthusiastic way Tonio put forward the words and his intentions for them. “We are?”
“With your intuition and my knowledge then we will once again triumph, and become successful. Together we will be good.”
Minerva smiled in controlled fashion. “Professionally, we will be unbeatable.”
“And after hours?”
“After hours we will each go our separate ways and,” she dropped her voice, leaning forward across the table, “will make sure that things stay purely on a businesslike but friendly footing.”
“That’s no problem with me rischioso,” Tonio quipped, raising an eyebrow playfully.
“Tonio. I’m not joking.”
“Neither am I. Now, if you’d like to drink up I’ll walk you back to your apartment and return to my own. I think a good night’s sleep is needed by all. Tomorrow we have things to do.”
By the time Tonio arrived to meet Minerva the following morning he had drawn up a list of their colleagues whose work was involved in maintaining security at the borders. Most of them he knew in one way or another. Perhaps he’d worked with them at some point, or undertaken Ministry training alongside them. One or two he knew in a social manner, and some he remembered from his own education as either being in his year, or older. There were, however, three names that Tonio didn’t recognise. On the north eastern border with Austria the name Clemente Drago was underlined as being unfamiliar to him. Between the west of Switzerland and Italy the borders were taken care of by Nikita Dolohov, while Crista Taddeo upheld their rights with Slovakia. It was with those three people Tonio proposed they should begin their work.
Minerva listened intently as Tonio gave her a potted biography, as far as he was able, with the details of the group of a dozen other staff. She’d met two particular ones herself, of course, on her own border crossings at the east of Switzerland. Neither of them had caused her to have any suspicions. There had been nothing untoward that she’d noticed, but she emphasised to Tonio that didn’t rule them out. She was more than happy to begin their investigations with those he didn’t know, but she felt that unless they were able to confirm without question one of them was a mago inquinato a dirty magician, then they should keep an open mind on the others, whoever they were and however well they were known.
The weather on the border with Slovakia was wetter and windier than it had been in Parma or Stegonia. Minerva and Tonio had prepared well for the trip with outer cloaks that were far more substantial than those they’d worn previously.
They planned to meet with Crista Taddeo, Clemente Drago and Nikita Dolohov under the pretence of checking Ministry systems with a view to relaxing the rules and asking the advice of those having to uphold the current ones. They would refer to no-one else by name, or border position, but would impress upon each of them that although their answers were vital to the freedom of Italy they were part of a larger sample. Minerva’s recent experiences crossing the borders would stand them in good stead as a measure of what was currently happening, as well as Tonio’s in depth knowledge about what should be happening.
Crista Taddeo was a witch who gave the impression of being totally professional, businesslike and organised. Very straightforward, and smart, she kept meticulous records of every person who came to the border, whether they crossed or not. In conversation she calmly and pleasantly passed her advice for certain relaxations, areas of their systems that she thought would be a mistake to relax, and even a point or two where if the rules were tightened up then Italy would remain secure.
Tonio and Minerva thanked Crista warmly, shook her hand, and left for the local coffee shop to discuss their impressions. Tonio agreed entirely with Minerva’s instincts that Crista Taddeo was not in any way, shape, or form their mago inquinato and in fact she was someone who they would recommend most highly to Dora for consideration should any policy making be required with regard to border crossings. Something that was quite likely to be needed before too long in the light of reasons for, and the likely conclusions to, their investigations.
Clemente Drago was a shifty man in Minerva’s opinion. Initially and outwardly he gave the same sort of responses to the points that Minerva and Tonio raised with him. His answers were barely different to those of Crista, with the exception of her ideas to tighten up some procedures. His record keeping was apparently exemplary also. In fact objectively he was also doing a more than satisfactory job. If they had been completing a check list of things that should, or should not, have been taking place, Clemente Drago would have achieved an excellent score.
However, as Minerva explained to Tonio later over coffee once again, every time he was asked a difficult question his eyes skated quickly from side to side, and a little vein high on his temple, almost under his very dark fringe pulsed. He was not, she was sure, being entirely honest. It was too soon to say that Clemente Drago was their man, but if right now she was asked to lay down a galleon as a wager, it would most definitely be placed firmly against his name.