Minister's Office: Office of the Minister for Magic, Charles Hollingberry

[sweetpinkpixie]

Welcome to the office of Charles Hollingberry, current Minister for Magic and appointed leader of the wizarding government in the United Kingdom. The office is located at the far end of Level One, and it is only accessible through the Senior Undersecretary's Office where guests are all escorted to a gaudy but comfortable waiting room. Help yourself to one, or several, of the individual packets of yogurt covered raisins tied with thin red ribbon found in the bowl on the coffee table. The Minister has been informed of your visit will be with you soon.

Boasting vibrant crimsons and warm gold tones, the office of the Minister for Magic is even more gaudy than the waiting room. The wooden walls are almost entirely covered with bookshelves, framed paintings of landscapes, and portraits of most of the previous Ministers for Magic - who the Minister may consult from time to time. Dark wooden cabinets and tables are adorned with artifacts from around the world and countless framed family photos of his children and grandchildren in various stages of their lives. Chances are you have already seen these on more than one occasion as the Minister also carries copies in his leather wallet sized photo album he keeps in his robes pocket at all times to shamelessly whip out and share should any and all opportunity arise. There is no desk to be seen but rather too luxurious red leather couches in the middle of the room.

So just where does the Minister do all his important work? Tap the right series of book spines along the shelves and you may be able to find out, though highly unlikely - and we suggest you not try because his Senior Undersecretary does not play around when it comes to the security of the Minister in this post-war era. This intricate beat is the sole knowledge of the Minister himself and the Senior Undersecretary. Nothing personal, the simply Minister prefers to keep all visitors away from sensitive documents and his affairs private.

[sweetpinkpixie]

It had been a peculiar morning. The reports regarding the removal of certain décor around the Ministry were concerning, though progress was being made, and slowly but surely the international bonds that had become complicated and strained in the wake of the Third Wizarding War were mending. But it was not policy or diplomats that had the Minister befuddled this morning while he sipped on his favorite cup of hot tea and snacked on yogurt covered raisins, but a curious bit of post that had arrived about half an hour ago read by Charles as though he had found a riveting novel he simply could not put down.

"They put this up in the courtyard at Hogwarts, on that same pillar, poorly restored. I wanted to share it with you," Charles read once again before his eyes drifted to the bronze plaque that had been lifted from Hogwarts' grounds and told of his fateful duel with Lucien. The 'Long Live Hollingberry' engraved upon it felt remarkably heavy in the moment and he found himself rubbing his chest for a few moments before returning his attention to the letter. "I would also like to request an opportunity to meet and talk with you at some point in the future, if ever you have the time to spare."

A curious request and a curious package.

He would be sending the plaque back to Trentualla, of course, which could be an errand he would send Kaiser on later once he had written a reply to this particular correspondence and completed a few others.

[Felixir]

As chance should have it, Jake Upstead was just now passing through Senior Undersecretary James' office in order to reach the workspace of the Minister. He didn't have an appointment, but had decided to see if he wouldn't get lucky enough to catch Hollingberry while they both had a moment, and it seemed he might just be in luck. Hollingberry's personal assistant - who also happened to be an old mentee of Jake's, years back - had just now told him that this was probably as good a time as any.

Jake knocked on the door with one knuckle before pushing his way into the Minister's waiting area, all while one-handedly rifling through a stack of parchment, many of which outlined arrangements for future proceedings that really could not come soon enough. He stopped in place a few feet inside of the closing door, flipped to the top of the parchment stack again, tapped them restlessly against the palm of his hand, and waited for sign or sound of Charles Hollingberry.

[sweetpinkpixie]

Typically it was a little alarm that went off that alerted Charles when he had visitors, though it had been some time now since he had been allowed the spontaneous drop ins. Genevieve ran a tight ship with his security a top priority, something he understood but could not help but resent as time went on, and with that came his day mostly scheduled and without many surprises. So when one of the little birdies from his gaudy wallpaper came a chirping on the wall in front of his desk and flitted its wings persistently enough to blow out one of the candles lining his desk, Charles felt rejuvenated for the bit of spontaneity on the day. Of course he was not daft enough to not know that whoever had made it by Genevieve was someone of a high security clearance, which was limited to his personal assistant and department head team exclusively, but it was a welcomed interruption none the less.

Thanking the little bird, who then turned inanimate now that its purpose had been fulfilled for the time being, Charles rose from his chair and pulled on a couple of books lining in one of the bookshelves in his office to reveal one of the several secret spiraling staircase passageways down to the public office area. It was not until he emerged from a random spot through a hidden doorway, always a different location, did he see who had just come to call.

Clearly the Minister needed to brush up on his nightingale chirps.

"Ah, Jake. Welcome. A little birdie told me you were here," he smiled and then glanced at the doorway that was slowly closing and reverting to a regular patch of gaudy crimson and gold wallpaper. "Your timing is rather uncanny...but before I get to that, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" He then gestured towards the couches for the head of Magical Law Enforcement to take a seat. "Some tea? And please do help yourself to one of the little bags of yogurt covered raisins. Or a toffee."

[Felixir]

A little birdie. Jake had heard that one before, a dad joke if ever there was one, he was fairly certain. He automatically followed the Minister's gaze to the sealing doorway; whether because of work, or experience in raising his little menaces darling children, he had long since formed the habit of not launching into anything but the most casual conversations until all doors had closed behind him. Maybe it was ridiculous, when magic took care of all that, but he supposed it was hard to shake that muggle mindset, even after all these years.

"You do know how to pique a man's curiosity," Jake said, looking back to Charles, intrigued, yes, but only a little. He figured it was probably a work thing, some report the Minister had just looked over that required feedback, perhaps, or anything to do with Level Two. They'd get there soon enough. "Tea would be great, thanks. Have to steer clear of sugar." Terrible intolerance to it, any processed sugar, not naturally occurring. Never pretty. Poor Ez had inherited it from him too.

Unfastening the lower button of his suit jacket, Jake took a seat on one of the couches, then lined up the parchments in his hands by tapping them on his knee, ready to hand them over once Charles was sitting too. "Wanted to run these by you; proposed schedules for the trials of the Neo-Alliance faithful. There's a list of those who appealed for clemency too, plea bargains, plus those who gave witness statements." Et cetera. Seeing his own child's name in there had been jarring (again), even if it was just in the context of that last. At least the full statement wasn't in that stack - none of them were, as the most sensitive documents were stored securely on Level Two for the time being - and his kid wouldn't be making a personal appearance at any trials. If Jake had his way they'd be at Hogwarts year-round; safest place for them at this point. Unsettling to think that, all things considered, the clock was ticking, the sands quickly running out.

He cleared his throat, adjusted his tie; Charles, of all people, would understand his concern, would likely have some sympathy for the situation, but Jake wasn't going there. "I just need you to give the schedules the once-over, and to let me know if you think there's anything here that needs addressing before we start getting it all arranged." There were dozens of investigations still ongoing, more trials to come in the future. Reports dribbled in even now, though most turned out to be hoaxes or blown wildly out of proportion. Most, but not all.

Even when years passed and it all became less raw for their society, Jake imagined they'd still be chasing down the final stragglers, the crafty ones who had so far slipped through their fingers.

[sweetpinkpixie]

Ah yes, the wonders and curses of being a parent. It seemed like several lifetimes ago that he too was being mindful of closed doors, but then he did end up with three out of four of his children being Gryffindors and one very resourceful Ravenclaw who seemed to have a never ending supply of Extendable Ears and were very crafty about their placement. His grandchildren were not as nearly so rambunctious, but still carried some of it in their blood.

But if Jake thought the birdie was a grandfather dad joke, he was in for a real treat once they delved further into conversation. In fact, Charles was currently restraining himself from pointing out that all the man need do to sweeten his tea was to have his lovely wife dip her finger into it. Genevieve had, among many other things, continued to scold the man for some of his overtly friendly and 'meddling' behaviors with his employees...so he would keep those for outside of the office. Maybe.

"I do what I can," he chuckled as he prepped the pot and summoned his muggle telephone booth looking jar which contained all of his tea bags and pulled out too cinnamon teas - since Jake had mentioned needing to stay away from sugars, the Minister was making a few assumptions.

Ah, yes...the trials. The Minister noticeably flinched at the mention, the guilt over his involvement something that continued to plague him - especially in the quiet moments of the day. What he should have seen sooner, how he had not been able to spare Lucien, how sweet Alphonsine had lost everything and now would likely be spending the rest of her days in Azkaban, how the children at Hogwarts had suffered, how close everything had come to...

Pulling himself from his thoughts, he finished preparing the tea and levitating the two cups on to a tray which then set itself down on the table before Jake and was joined by a small plate of biscuits which Charles would likely be savoring in himself. "Ah yes, thank you for preparing all that. Your department must be under such strain in these times, between these trials and Bain's disappearance." More mattered that caused the man's already deep wrinkles to shrivel his caring heart. "Have you been able to find someone suitable to oversee these hearings?" Since Charles would not be able to take up that chair this time. His knees creaking a bit as he took a seat opposite the Magical Law Enforcement Head, the Minister reached for one of those biscuits and took a humble nibble.

"Let's take a look at these then, shall we?" he nodded while pulling his half moon spectacles with gold frames from his pocket and slipping them on his nose.

[Felixir]

Jake didn't miss it. The flinch. Impossible for him to not have noticed, all things considered. Though of course he didn't know for sure what the Minister felt or thought about all of what had happened, he knew if he'd been in the man's shoes - and he sort of had, a very long time ago, or rather just in one shoe with the laces untied - he'd have struggled in the aftermath. Aside from anything else, an entire war happening on your watch could not be an easy thing for anyone to deal with. Almost anyone.

Guilt briefly flared and faded. No use feeling bad about bringing it up; it would all need to be tackled sooner rather than later, and Charles wouldn't be back if he wasn't able to do so. If there was one thing Jake had learnt, post-war, it was that his new position meant an lot of discomfort. He had never been under any illusion that it got any better, the higher in the ranks a person went.

Still. He could sympathise with Charles. He could absolutely do that.

"A little," Jake admitted, with a small smile. It was a large work force, which was fortunate given the suddenly immense workload. "Bit of an all hands on deck situation, but it's what we're there for. We're managing. Couldn't hope for better, under the circumstances." Maybe once the bulk of trials were no longer hanging over them, that strain would be eased. Probably not. "I think we've found just the person. Details in here, plus a couple of alternative options."

With that, Jake compulsively straightened the the stack of parchment again, handed the stack over to Charles, then busied himself with a cup of that tea.

[sweetpinkpixie]

The physical reminders were all but gone by this point, thanks to the potions of a certain Unspeakable and the tenderness of his personal healer, but the emotional scars would forever remain. Those left from his own family and their treatment of Yukie certainly had and the war with the Neo Alliance had only amplified the ache. Charles did still ponder the possibility of retirement, of setting someone younger and perhaps sturdier in his stead, but it was thoughts for another day and not something to burden his head of Magical Law Enforcement with. Jake already had plenty to weigh him down than to stack on the ramblings of a ripe wizard.

"I certainly commend you and your department," he smiled warming, if not a little distantly, at the man. "Hercules himself would have surely collapsed from exhaustion by now and you all continue to push on." Yes, absolutely he needed to stop by the level and do a bit of hand shaking and personal praises in person. Plus...he did wish to have a chat or two with some of those in custody - should Jake permit him to do so.

Charles returned his attention to the files, pushing his spectacles up on his nose a bit more and pinched his lips together as he read. "Yes...yes they do seem qualified and of the a pristine moral fiber," he nodded in agreement, pulling off his spectacles and allowing them to hang around his neck by the chain. His eyes rested softly on the man before him, one just around the age of his own eldest son if he were not mistaken, and that familiar parental pull tugged on his heart. "How are you, son? Have you been eating a proper breakfast and such?"

Just a bit of a personal check in before dipping in to...some more personal matters.

[Felixir]

Had Jake been in possession of even the slightest inkling of what Charles was currently turning over in his mind, he probably would have been selfishly relieved that it remained unsaid. Not that he wouldn't have done what he could to talk through the matter, or at least be a sounding board of sorts, but the Minister had the right of it. There was an awful lot of plates to spin even just during work hours. The rest, Jake kept it all as separated from work as he could, but it weighed on his mind nonetheless. Only human.

All the same, maybe he could sense something, if not exactly what, as Jake noted Charles' expression, and sent an echo of that smile back to him. "Great team on Level Two," he replied with a nod, but then, he'd known that for a while. Type A personalities out the ear down there, which was great for getting the job done (until it wasn't). Speaking of, Jake allowed himself the slightest release of tension in the shoulders as Charles voiced his agreement. "Excellent, thanks." Another step closer to getting things sorted, but the tension returned the moment he caught that look.

Jake was vaguely aware of the Minister's tendency to take on half a dozen pseudo-children on every day that ended in Y. He certainly wasn't in any position to judge, and didn't feel inclined to do so, but he was not keen on being another. Jake had had parents - biological, foster, adoptive - in his youth, before finally realising he'd have been better off without any of them, and proceeding as such. Thirty years down the line, an about-face was not only unlikely, but even just the idea was... not altogether comfortable.

But he breezed on ahead as though none of these thoughts had occurred. "Good, yeah. 'Course. Need to set a good example for the kids when there's time, otherwise it's 'But dad didn't eat it,' or 'I want coffee for breakfast too.'" And that was just the five year olds.

If ever there was a quartet of children who didn't need a diet of caffeine...

[sweetpinkpixie]

The son was simply a term of endearment, not necessarily that he saw Jake as one of his own (though, generally speaking, anyone at least a decade plus five or so years beneath him was generally seen through a parental lens). Though, in all fairness, Charles had already equated Jake as being among those he emotionally considered of kin. All his department heads were like his own children, it was simply the way his fondness and protectiveness manifested itself. Though he was hoping to invite Jake and the Mrs over again for another dinner at some point. Once they all had sludge through more of the aftermath of the Neo-Alliance.

"If there is anything more you require of me, please do not hesitate to ask," he smiled at the man opposite him while his shoulders relaxed a bit more against the lush couch.

And while they were circling the subject of family...

"Speaking of children...I received a curious bit of post from one of yours," he said softly while grabbing for another little bag of yogurt covered raisins. "Came with a gift as well, though I prefer my gifts not be the result of vandalization." This last bit was said with a light chuckle and not the intention to scold Nemesis nor question Jake's parenting techniques. "The plaque the former Hogwarts groundskeeper placed in the courtyard to the school."

Charles' bright eyes flicked kindly over to Jake, these words surely providing enough context that Charles would not need to elaborate much further.

[Felixir]

"Of course," Jake said, mind already half on what might be necessary in these next steps. He wouldn't hesitate, it was true; decades of teaching himself self-restraint the hard way, all he needed was for a simple 'don't hesitate to ...' and all bets were off. At least the Minister was more likely to mean it. "Thank you."

His focus had drifted, but was snatched back suddenly. Jake looked at Charles, instinctively working through deductions. One of his kids had... well, that discounted four of them for certain, and tentatively two more. Vandalism narrowed it down to two, and the mention of the plaque brought him to one prime suspect. Courtyard. Charles. Plaque. Nemesis.

It was always a little difficult to shift himself out of Work Mode, especially here, in the middle of the Ministry, but Jake worked all the way through his deductions before the gravity of Charles' words even came close to striking true.

"I see." It wasn't intentional, the momentary closing off, just... just it was still very raw. Jake's kneejerk reaction was to want to shift the blame. Term time wasn't his domain, and, come to that, no longer were the holidays. Nemesis was more or less beyond his reach, just as they'd always wanted to be. A moment later, and he was hit with a brutal self-reminder that this kind of thinking likely contributed to so much of the damage in the first place.

For just a moment, Jake's composure wavered; he ran a hand over his face, took a deep breath, released it. "Nemesis? War plaque?" While he had every reason to not operate on assumptions, he had little reason to doubt. He just kept picturing Rosier - stone cold dead, and still causing problems. "Are they in trouble?" Again? "... I think, perhaps, I was never as cut out for this parenting lark as I thought I'd be." But nine... uh... ten... kids down the line, it was a little late for misgivings. "I don't know how you managed to do it, Mr Hollingberry."

[sweetpinkpixie]

It began with a gentle strum.

Not charmed, not conjured, but played. Real strings under real fingers, roughened by time and softened by memory. The scent of lavender and lemon polish lingered in the air as Charles say in a sunbeam on the leather sofa near the tall enchanted windows with one of his guitars balanced across his lap. The battered guitar, once charmed to shift colors during live shows, had long since settled into a mellow walnut brown, its finish dulled by decades of love and travel. A faded sticker on its side read: The Winged Horsemen Tour 2047. His coat was draped over the armrest, sleeves rolled, and his wand tucked behind his ear like a quill he’d forgotten to set down―which was not uncommon these days, leading him to believe he had misplaced it and even his own head at times. A stack of unsigned parchment sat abandoned on the coffee table in favor of fretting out an old, half-finished melody from his days with The Winged Horsemen that had become a sort of signature fallback when the band needed to kill time between sets.

He played like someone remembering something not with his mind, but with his bones. Every note deliberate, a conversation with ghosts only he could hear. After a particularly nostalgic chord shift, he chuckled to himself. "I used to hit that harmony on the third verse without even trying," he murmured to one one in particular, a smile tugging at his aging cheeks, "used to bring the house down in ’44... back when my hair was less grey and I could still do a stage dive without a Healer on standby."

The door to his office remained wide open, as it always was on mornings like this. The mornings when memories surfaced like bubbles, and the business of governance could wait just a few moments more. There was plenty of other seating available, of course, as well as a teacup warming charm on standby for anyone else in the office who may just-so-happen to need a distraction from their own paperwork.

[Holmesian Feline]

Mornings were morning for Simon, early or not. Having checked on the workings of the atrium while dealing with the hustle and bustle of daily arrivals and stopped at Level Two to handle the immediate concerns that could be handled, the security head meandered up a level to equally familiar territory. Now he was his ever observant self, but Level one always had a special attention, with or without two particular men who called it home. It seemed the usual everyday appearance at first before his ears caught the music that he recognized from previous occasions.

Quietly slipping through the main offices, nodding polite greetings to workers may have passed by, Simon paused at the door. The younger man trying not to chuckle at the soft remarks he caught bits and pieces of. Instead, simply leaning on the doorframe just inside the office, his arms lightly crossed upon each other to observe the casual performance. Sometimes it was nice to take in the quieter moments that really weren’t quiet at all.

[sweetpinkpixie]

The melody took minor key shift, turning softer and sentimental. Like worn wood and wistful sighs. Charles's thumb grazed the strings gently, drawing out each note as if it were something to be remembered and not merely played. His foot tapped out a beat slower than the song required, as if waiting for memories to catch up. An extension of himself, the guitar started humming an old lullaby now—one he used to fumble through in the quiet hours when Yukie rocked Ryunosuke by the little space heater they used to warm their home during the winter months, her voice softer than any charm he'd ever cast. He could still picture it: Yukie’s eyes low-lidded with exhaustion, their first son curled close, small enough to fit in one arm and a dream. His voice cracked just slightly as he murmured lyrics under his breath, barely audible even to himself. "Little stars over heavenly skies…you were magic ‘fore you ever opened your eyes…"

He blinked once. Twice. The air shimmered faintly with the dust of light and half-formed tears, but he didn't brush them away. Instead, his fingers found the next chord like a reflex—G major, strung lovingly. He didn’t notice Simon. Not yet. The not-as-young-as-he-once-was Head of Security, the familiar weight in a doorway, the guardian-turned-family who had been there when Charles couldn’t be—during his daughter's stormiest years. Charles would’ve wrapped him in a bear hug by now if he’d seen him, formalities be damned given the emotional journey his fingers were taking the man presently.

For right now, he was still in 2052. Still young, still learning lullabies from a woman who spoke little English and yet managed to teach him more about love than any textbook could. A nearby photo album fluttered open beside him with the corner of a baby photo peeking out―this one of Ryunosuke, still in diapers, hugging an infant Takeshi. Charles gave a soft, chuckling sigh through his nose and tapped the guitar once with his knuckles and was still very much unaware of the observer in the doorframe..

"Y’know," he muttered into the enchanted sunlight, though his tone were as though he were speaking to those two young boys in the photo, "if you listen long enough… some songs’ll play memories right back into the room."

[Holmesian Feline]

As much as he was trained and experienced in reading people, Simon wasn’t a full legilimens. So, he wasn’t aware of what all truly was going on in the other man’s thoughts, or more likely memories. The emotion, however, was clearly visible to him even before the tears in the minister’s eyes and he almost thought to leave and not interrupt the musically aided contemplation despite the fact that the open-door spoke of welcome. He may have been privy to times in Hollingberry’s life, both through moments they spent together and memories shared with him by Charles, Kurumi or Ryo, but still there were things left private.

On second thought he stayed not able to pull himself away. He stayed, not entirely sure if his companion was aware of his presence. Even when the man he often considered like a second father figure spoke again it wasn’t automatically clear if it was to him or a ghost in his mind’s eyes. Was Charles seeing him or one of the boys now men that he had often been compared with by his sister.

“So true…” he quietly remarked in agreement breaking his silence, his head bowed slightly catching brief glimpses of his own memories with a smile. The younger man having his own fair share of memories tied to music and sound. The roars of the pep rallies in school…the songs both sung to and heard from his own children…the happier moments of his career and adulthood. “Sometimes even moreso than sight and smells.”

[sweetpinkpixie]

The note wavered ever so slightly under his fingers when Charles heard the voice. Not a memory this time. Not a ghost.

Real.

Real and here.

His hands stilled against the strings and, slowly, he lifted his gaze, eyes still glassy with that faraway kind of tenderness. And there Simon was—leaned casual like a boy in a doorway, but with a weight in his shoulders only those who had carried whole families on their backs ever earned. "…Simon," Charles said, his voice already rounding into a smile, warm and worn as an old jumper. "You certainly have a knack for sneaking quieter than a House-elf on soft carpet." He chuckled and set the guitar down gently, patting it like an old friend who understood. Then he rubbed at one eye with the side of his hand—more out of habit than vanity.

"You’ll have to forgive me. Got caught in a memory loop again. Happens more and more these days," he added, tilting his head with a knowing glint in his eye. "You blink and suddenly it’s forty-some-odd years ago..." He took a deep, contented breath, gesturing Simon in without a word—just a wide open palm and a glance that said of course there’s room here for you, there always is. "Funny thing, isn’t it?" he said, voice softer now, "How music keeps all the years stacked on top of each other. Like a record that plays back with no warning."

He leaned forward on his desk a little, hands folded. "Come in, lad. Sit. Let me fuss over you a bit. Merlin knows it’s what I’m good for these days." And just like that, the past folded itself neatly back into the present, and Charles—Charles Hollingberry, Minister, father, dreamer, musician of memories—made space for another of his pseudo-sons in the moment, like a grandfather pulling an extra chair to the table without needing to be asked. "Or are you in the middle of a patrol and I ought not monopolize your time."

[Holmesian Feline]

Well, that was a reaction. It seemed his second thought might have been true about what or who Charles had been speaking to. Not that his companion was unhappy with his discovered presence by any means. Theirs was a comfortable relationship, the minor awkwardness of once being called out in front of the entire Ministry and hanging off his feet in a bear hug long since turned pleasant. Simon couldn’t help echoing his laughter, the choice of words bringing amusement. “I’ve…been told that,” he teasingly commented, quite bemused at the turn of a phrase.

Simon smiled softly, waving off the apology. “Nothing to be sorry of.” And there wasn’t as it wasn’t like he didn’t have his own moments. Though the idea Charles mentioned, blinking and thinking back 40 years? “Ick…YATI training,” he remarked at the mental math, lowering his arms and straightening up from the doorway as he moved inside. “Not my finest moments in the ministry.” Was it really that long ago? No wonder his own ghosts, especially within his years at the job were so numerous. “Some tunes more…interesting…than others.” Like how upon their first unofficial meeting when Simon was a sixth year, the music around was the awkward praise of a certain borr.

“I can spare a few moments,” the security man assured as he finally moved to take a proffered seat. It wasn’t as if he didn’t give himself plenty of time to do things. Or know that he best allow for detours in certain departments. If it wasn’t music and memories with the minister, perhaps it would be delayed in Mysteries over one thing or another. That level ALWAYs was…interesting.

[sweetpinkpixie]

"Oh Merlin, YATI training,"Charles wheezed with a laugh that rattled low in his chest, like an old kettle finally reaching its boil. He wiped the corner of one eye with the edge of his sleeve, shaking his head fondly as Simon moved into the room. "That always starts out all knees and elbows and almost too eager to save the world, usually with a hex that was three syllables too long and half a wand movement off." He raised a hand as if to ward off any offense, his voice was still warm and with hints of laughter still hugging the edges. "And I don’t mean that cruelly, mind you. The young ones—Merlin, the lot that reminded us what it meant to believe in something bigger. Brave, earnest, loud as anything… but still learning the weight of what those beliefs cost." His eyes crinkled with a tired kind of pride. "YATI, fresh out the gate, always reminds me of the first spell you cast after a heartbreak...powerful, but just a little bit wild. It’s not about capability. Never has been. It’s about time. You can’t rush the kind of wisdom that comes from holding the line through loss… and getting back up anyway."

Those YATI who came through the Ministry doors in the years just after the War carried with them a cruel kind of knowledge—one Charles would have spared them if he could. There was no mystery left in their eyes when it came to death; every single one could already see thestrals. Too many had buried friends, family, mentors—some had fought when they were barely of age, and some hadn’t had the chance to grieve before being handed a wand and a badge. Charles had watched them arrive, not with wide-eyed wonder, but with a heaviness that made them seem older than they were ― brilliant, brave, and utterly changed. He respected them deeply but quietly mourned what had been taken from them before they'd even begun.

He motioned toward the armchair with a casual wave and gave his wand a light flick towards the magical phonograph in the corner and a soft wistful jazz tune slightly warped with age trickled through the air. "Please, sit, sit. Though I should warn you that chair sighs whenever someone sits in it and it can be a bit unnerving when you aren't expecting it." Charles returned to his own chair and leaned back in it and exhaled a slow breath while being content with allowing the silence hang between them ― they did have Ellington "Dizzy" Dalrymple's music to keep them company.

There was another beat of silence before he turned back to Simon with an even softer expression, eyes still bright but almost heavy at the edges. "You know, I don’t say this lightly, but I’m glad you’re still here. Still one of the good ones after all these years," then, with a chuckle that snuck in like a ray of sun on a particularly cold and cloudy day, "Also helps to have someone in the building who doesn’t run screaming when I decide a Tuesday calls for cello and crumble cake." Not that this had ever genuinely happened ― who could possibly hate crumble cake? Especially one baked by his daughter or granddaughter. He tilted his head while summoning another cup from the cabinet. "Two sugars and pretend it’s one?"

In other words, how would you be taking your tea, Simon?

[Holmesian Feline]

Yep, everything that was being said certainly reminded him of YATI. “Oh no offense taken,” Simon assured his companion with a chuckle and a shake of his head. “The group I was in made up of four Gryffindor boys and a lone Ravenclaw. There were times it was a wonder the rest of the department didn’t banish us over the course of the five years. Or Emily beg to work alone.” Josh in particular was lucky at times that he hadn’t completely tried their subordinates’ nerves beyond help even after their training. “And it didn’t exactly help at least half had already been part of the fight with the Cult.” With the other half helping with the aftermath.

The classes since almost always have one trainee that made it feel to Simon like punishment for the mistakes of youth to deal with. Granted Lex had turned into a valuable team member despite her auspicious start, and Ronan hadn’t yet pushed him over the edge despite many valient attempts. But the younger man’s cousin and a few others could probably each be blamed for one or two of the grey hairs mixed in with his dirty blond locks. And it wasn’t like he was even still one of their division-mates.

Taking the directed chair, Simon stood warned of its peculiarities. Or rather sat warned, the soft sound almost replicated as the security man let himself relax into the moment. The music heard off almost in the distance in its volume. The human silence was comfortable which was fine by Simon, one who wasn’t the most talkative if he needn’t be. His movements weren’t the only things that could be quiet. A quality that greatly helped him slip into the shadows of his job on more than one occasion.

He did look over as Charles spoke once more, the words an interesting choice of topic gaining a briefly raised eyebrow. “It’s good to still be here…” he mused, his left hand absently rubbing lightly at the right palm that rested with it on his lap. The scar from the injury that very nearly kept him from coming back after the war still faintly visible on his pale skin. And good to still have the man before him here as well. The somber tone might have hung over them had the minister’s second remark not happened causing the security man to bite back a snort. “Definitely not one of the weirder happenings here,” Simon remarked, “And I’ll stick to the one lump.” Best not push it when the son can easily report back to his lovely wife.