The drawer didn't open as easily as he had hoped - which he probably should have expected, honestly. But it didn't seem to be locked so he put a bit more might behind his tugging and eventually it did open. It did seem to be the right move because there was definitely a glowing object in there. In fact it was so bright that Indigo brought his arm up to shield his eyes when the drawer opened. It was like when someone shines a flashlight in your face in a dark room. He blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted to the brightness and looked into the drawer to see what the light was coming from.

Indigo had never seen the shell before, so he had no immediate guesses as to why it was glowing. And still shrieking, by the way, which was even more unpleasant this close to it. He reached down with the hand not holding his wand and picked up the shell. It was so bright that it was hard to tell if the light was coming from the entirety of the shell in general or inside it. He held it closer to his eye and tried to peer inside it. That might not have been the best thing to do, but Indigo had never claimed to be the best at handling this sort of thing. There was a reason he was a translator. He wished someone else was there to help. Someone who might have better ideas.

Should he try some sort of spell on it? The first one that came to mind was the silencing charm, to make it stop making that screeching noise. It wouldn't exactly help him figure out what was going on, but silence might make it easier to think. So he tapped the shell with his wand. "Silencio."

No, not that something. Try again, dear Unspeakable.

Though the Silencing Charm worked initially, whatever enchantment had become of the conch shell soon drowned its effects and within a minute was screeching in eerie rhythm once again. It continued to rattle within the drawer as well, now almost like an impatient infant wishing to be plucked from its crib.

Indigo was pleased that his spell had worked. And his hopes were quickly dashed just moments later when it started screaming again. He sighed. He was out of ideas. He really wished there were someone else here. Indigo picked up the shell again and peered at it. "What do you want from me?" He asked in frustration. Mostly to himself, not really expecting it to answer because it was just a shell. But then again, stranger things had happened.

Ask and you shall receive, dear Unspeakable.

As soon as skin touched the conch shell, a transfer occurred. One that had been done a handful of times already. The cabinet containing one last item rattled, yearning to be picked up as well...

As Indigo was eyeing the shell with frustration he suddenly felt very thirsty. Very, very thirsty. He needed water now. He glanced down at his wand that he was holding in his other hand. "Aguamenti." The stream of water splashed more water over his face than it got in his mouth, leaving him a bit wet. But that was good, he decided. Good, but not good enough. He needed more. And he could think of only one place within the ministry that he could find more water, potentially enough to satisfy his desire for it.

But first, there was more rattling. He hurried over to the rattling cabinet, this time not even hesitating before yanking it open to grab what was inside. And with both items gripped in his hands he headed for the door on the way to his goal. Hopefully this time it would let him leave.

"REEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEE REEEEEEEEEEEE!"

The item the Unspeakable plucked from the cabinet was a great trident, both items among the newer artefacts to have washed up in the Ministry's hands, and together their horrendous screeching continued on in wretched harmony. It would be different for this Unspeakable however, oh yes. As it would to any who had come in contact with either of these artefacts. Familiar and beautiful, a calling of sorts. Woe be unto everyone else, however. That is unless certain steps were taken.

Perhaps a hint as to what could be done has been noticed elsewhere?

The doors to the Chamber opened with a sigh of fresh air to the Unspeakable - relieved to have these two artefacts out of storage and on their way elsewhere.

The chamber of codes was a place of quiet comfort. it was not always so, the artifacts held here were volatile, strange and disturbing unless handled with respect and care. Aslan had rarely had a problem. She, who could feel and see on a level deeper than most, was often busy with cursed books, bewitched treasures, holy relics and the like and so far had always managed to come home unscathed. She was not up to anything so dangerous today, instead she was only looking for a book. Leather-bound and written by someone who had died centuries ago, the Gryffindor hoped it would hold the answers to her latest conquest.

Leather black boots clicked and clacked, announcing the otherwise quiet witch’s presence as she searched for the tome. “It should be here somewhere.” she idly muttered to herself, tucking an errant strand of dark hair behind her bejeweled ear. Aslan had never owned much jewelry in her youth- she’d never owned much of anything, to be fair- and after seeing to Milo and Des, making sure they had everything they wanted or needed, she had finally allowed herself the pleasure of new earrings, a new necklace and a matching set of bracelets which shimmered in the candlelight illuminating the room. she was grown now. no longer a young girl floating along with the current, letting it take her as it pleased, but a woman who knew what she wanted and who she was. Careful. Clever and courageous and it showed in the set of her shoulders and even the confident sway of her hips.

aslan evans was no longer a changeling waiting for her real family, but a matriarch.

Though his natural inclination was to take rather than to give, Daxton had come to the Chamber of Codes not to use the archives, but to contribute to them. Undoubtedly un-Daxton-like behaviour, and yet part of his job description; something he was mindful of following to the letter. No more. No less.

It was a longstanding skill of Daxton's, an unintentional though not unwelcome one stemming no doubt from his similarly longstanding hypervigilance, that he could generally identify people by their natural tread. Her muttering served merely as confirmation.

Having finished his work adding to the archive and recording the contribution, Daxton moved, panther-like, towards Aslan Evans. He stopped, silently, a little way behind her, and waited, the glint and glimmer of her various accoutrements drawing his eye and settling in his mind as the beginnings of an idea unrelated - at this moment - to Aslan, or his work in the Ministry.

completely unaware of him, completely unaware of anything not singularly related to her current task. Aslan’s dark eyes were the only part of her that moved, and did so quickly. passing over shelves marked in ways only an unspeakable would be able to understand. She had not been looking long but her patience was wearing thin. This particular tome was not for a work related project, but something she hoped would help her better understand Milo’s abilities. For while she, herself, was strange and unusual and could thereby understand the strange and unusual, controlling such things? was beyond her.

She rose up on her tips toes, reaching for a cabinet which looked promising.

There was another whose patience was quickly wearing thin; if, indeed, there was much patience to wear thin to begin with. Daxton had never been very good at sharing Aslan's attention - a general trait, it turned out, also found in at least one of his children, though he'd come by that information only through a secondary source and not yet confirmed it for himself - even when that attention was focused only on an object or idea. His eyes flicked towards the cabinet and his jaw tightened, barely perceptible. Not at all perceptible while there were no ideas on him.

A moment later, the cabinet doors flung themselves violently open, banged loudly against their neighbours, then slammed shut again. Daxton, who had not so much as flinched - there had been nothing to take him by surprise - bored his eyes into the back of Aslan's head.