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by: Jacob Sullivan
#1251
Wednesday, 8 February 2012
9 a.m


Elias gripped the edges of the podium as he studied the notes before him. A member of the Syndicate had tipped him off to the shenanigans at the school while the City's wolves had been out cavorting under the full moonlight. As the Minister, he would be expected to make a statement. Before him stood perhaps thirty reporters from the Prophet, Witch Weekly, and various other gossip rags. Surprisingly, a few foreign press releases were represented as well. A camera flashed when he cleared his throat and raised a piercing gaze across the assemblage. He would need to play them and tease them with information, making very sure not to get any paint on himself when he used broad strokes to cover Delilah and Teague in responsibility.

"Good morning. As Minister of Magic, I have the heavy responsibility this morning to confirm the rumors of a werewolf attack occurring last night in many parts of the greater Muggle London area. Despite numerous warnings and cautions against the very real threat of lycanthropic dissension and urges from the minister's office to Lord MacTail's staff for an increased guard presence on nights of the full moon," He had sent those in two weeks ago knowing the guard was stretched too thin for MacTail to approve it. So many of the guardsmen were stationed at Hogwarts that London was open for a moment like this. It was, deviously and deliciously, part of the plan to ruin the position of lordship for any future Death Eaters once MacTail was gone.

"those requests were obviously denied to the detriment of the Muggle communities surrounding Diagon Alley and the Ministry itself. More horrific and dismaying is a memo discovered today from Miss Delilah Chase of our Lord's press staff to an alleged werewolf requesting his presence at Hogwarts to detain the killer there."

A collective intake of breath whispered through the assemblage. One with was so shocked that she was scribbling notes furiously, unaware she had dropped her quill moments before. Elias let the shock sink in as he collected their attention back to his intended victim.

"No doubt our Lord will make an inquiry as to how this request was allowed approval. I am also quite certain that the board of governors will likewise seek an explanation for this atrocity. As of this time, we cannot report on any damages or injuries. If our children have been hurt, if our staff members were abused, if the guard in whom we have invested our galleons and graduates into have received any grievance from the werewolf, then all responsibility will be duly recompensed by Miss Chase. We all bear responsibilities in this new age. As Minister it is both my duty and my pleasure to serve to witches and wizards of Britain, as should it be for all members of the ministry staff. Likewise, as a citizen of this fair nation, we are all responsible for diligently supporting the ministry as it serves and supports the citizenry. I propose that St. Mungo's should be a haven and a repository of benefaction to any person or groups of people afflicted with lycanthropy. A supply of wolf's bane potion should be made available every month at affordable rates to all werewolves, no matter their blood status."

Another round of furious scribbling climaxed. How long had it been since the British government proposed care for those less than half blood, or even insinuated care for the muggles afflicted with wizarding diseases? Elias concluded his speech with typical closing remarks covering a broad and shallow range of political focuses. A sub committee would be formed, research would be made, blah blah blah...the bombshells were away. Hopefully they'd explode just as he intended. And now, for questioning if these reporters wanted any soundbites.
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by: Delilah Chase
#1471
Delilah was exhausted. Her body demanded sleep, but her mind could not settle enough for her to do so. Last night's events had played through on a nonstop loop since their resolution. She had tried to rest at the safe house she and Julian called their base, but that had not been easy. She had finally had to leave and head to her office. If she hadn't been able to sleep before, things hadn't gotten any better there when she discovered the owled inquiries piled in her office.

"Bloody hell," she muttered harshly as she'd seen them. She'd had no idea what they contained then, but she'd assumed it had to do with the events at the school. Had word truly traveled so quickly? Delilah had grabbed a pile of them and gone to her desk then. She had set the letters down then sat down in her chair. Much to her relief, she hadn't seen a howler amongst the sea that was by her door, but that had been little relief. The written word could be potent enough without having to have it screamed at her.

Ms. Black,

Did the MInistry have any knowledge of the werewolf invasion of London this evening?


one read.

And yet another:

Does Lord MacTail have a statement regarding tonight's attacks? The Daily Prophet would appreciate first rights to a statement.

Delilah's brows furrowed at this, glancing over the others.

What was going on? She had missed something. That much had been clear, and it was unsettling. So, she had settled in and read the letters. There was enough information for her to put things together. Before long, she had drafted a letter and owled it to the more legitimate publications:

The Ministry has no statement for your publication at this hour. Rest assured Lord MacTail does not take recent events and their indications lightly and will react appropriately. Please join us at the press conference tomorrow at noon.

- Ms. Delilah Black, Press Secretary


That should give her enough time to work with MacTail to ensure everything went according to plan. Now, the only thing that remained worrisome was Hunt. She could send him a notice, but would he listen?

Minister Hunt,

It is Lord MacTail's request that you refrain from issuing any statement until tomorrow at noon. We will hold a meeting at eleven to discuss what is to be said. Your presence is required.

- Ms. Delilah Black, Press Secretary


Delilah blotted the excess ink from the paper then rolled it and placed the seal upon it. Now, she had to wait for the one of her owls to get back so she could send it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The owls hadn't returned in time. Either the recipients had kept them with treats or they had taken longer than usual to find the letters' recipients due to them being out of offices on the field. And it was as Delilah set foot out into Diagon Alley that a familiar voice had boomed from the use of a charm.

Hunt. Delilah's eyes had narrowed. She'd hoped to meet him at his office that morning but had fallen asleep for all of ten minutes and suddenly it had been eight fifty-five.

Hurriedly, Delilah rushed over, hoping against all hope there wouldn't be many surrounding the platform that had likely hastily been set up only minutes before. Of course, lady luck was not in anyone's favor this morning. Hunt was set up and speaking, and as though that wasn't bad enough, he had heard about last night and claimed to have a letter from her. Delilah had to take a moment to compose herself. She couldn't run up there and defend herself right now. No, she had to go unnoticed. She and MacTail would have to respond this afternoon in kind. But how? There was no letter. Delilah knew that. Whatever it was was a forgery. She had sent but one owl, and she knew Soren had received it. It had been obscure and hadn't even contained her proper title or name. It had been destroyed. She'd made sure of it.

But that mattered little now. No, Hunt was revealing further action on his own.

Now, he was subjecting himself to reprimand. This whole thing was a huge risk on his part.

As the crowd began to cheer, Delilah disapparated. She needed to find Teague and fast.
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