exitus acta probat ~ Harm

Monday, September 26th 1921
♔♕

Two ministry memos zoomed through the open door of her office, one gliding past where she sat and towards the Minister's door, wiggling itself through the tiny gap in the frame, the other landed on her desk with a smooth swerve.

From the fact alone that Merrow's hadn't aimed for her to sort through, Harper knew what it pertained to. Confidential. Personal.

The Wizengamot trial.

The first of four, dealing with the events of the Dark Tower incident that had left the country in shock. Scheduled for Friday and trying Deputy Headmaster Blackwood for first-degree manslaughter and child endangerment. Rubbish charges, quite ridiculous even. A man that had played a role in stopping a madman shouldn't be tried at all but celebrated.

Thayer and his vermin deserved their fate. People like him had no place in a community built on the superiority of magic, living in secrecy and away from the rabble that were muggles. She still couldn't wrap her head around their absurd ideas of equality and a shared world. It would be funny weren't it so disgusting.

Unfortunately, the law saw it differently, and thus she was summoned to judge over his fate alongside her colleagues of the Wizengamot. She didn't need to hear witness statements or the thick folder of evidence that just now rushed into the room, clutched within the grasp a tiny owl's claws, to know how she would vote.

Her brows pulled into a rare frown of annoyance when the owl unceremoniously dropped the folder onto her desk, leaving a couple feathers in its wake. As she picked up her wand to vanish them, a familiar silhouette appeared in the corner of her eye. "Mr. Laurence," she greeted evenly, looking up a moment later. The corner of her mouth tipped into a subtle smile. "How can I help. The Minister isn't in at the moment."

"I'm not here for the Minister," he said lightly, swaying into the room in his usual strut that insisted he wasn't bothered with the logistics of the man he was attempting to usurp.

It was the furthest thing from the truth. Rather, James was innately invested in all the comings and goings of Wylder Merrow. Who he talked to, who he didn't. What made the man tick. What cracks he left open to capitalize upon.

His smile grew from the corner of his mouth, meeting her own. How was it she always managed to look so unbothered, even while sitting in the thick of it all. Having to deal with the silent Minister who offered so little would certainly drive him mad.

"Blackwood's trial is on the horizon," he said evenly, taking a seat at the edge of her desk, giving the office and the outside hallway a quick once over for eavesdroppers. The last thing he needed was another pacification or bribe. Merlin knew there were enough of those going around.

He could afford it, but he preferred not to take on any new passengers.

"He's agreed to work with us in exchange for acquittal," he said, plucking a cigarette out of his robe pocket and popping it between his lips. "Seems he's got a new little love interest he's invested in keeping." He grinned, the cigarette following the contour of his lips.

"That bar he's got in his robes shop," he said, a quick wave of his wand and the end of his smoke burned red, a trail of smoke coiling towards the ceiling, "Seems Merrow was seen in there not too long before the carnival. Something about meeting with Thayer."

He inhaled, then pulled the cigarette with his fingers, ashing it in the tray on her desk. "We get him this acquittal and he'll be ours." He grinned a little wider.

Of course he wasn't here to see the minister, the timing of his appearance was no coincidence, nothing James did ever was. There was a reason he had chosen to show up now and Harper could make a guess as to why. It sent a soft tingle of excitement prickling down her back.

Her eyes followed as he strolled in, lifting when he took a seat at the edge of her desk. "Yes," she hummed lightly, lifting the folder of evidence with a tilt of her head. "So I heard." James' gaze scanned their surroundings with an inconspicuous glance, and Harper dropped hers to the folder, opening the flap as though she had a care for its contents. She skimmed over the first page with mild interest.

"He's agreed to work with us in exchange for acquittal."

One of her brows quirked up. She wondered how far the term 'agreed' stretched in the vocabulary of James Laurence, or what it could be synonymous with. In this case however, she thought Blackwood's own desire to stay out of Askaban might have been enough to lure him into the duke's web all on his own.

As promptly confirmed by James' next words.

Harper closed the folder. "You have my interest," she said with an edge of amusement, leaning one forearm against her desk and half turning in her chair to look up at him. People did all sorts of foolish things for love. She was curious to hear how far the Deputy Headmaster would go.

"That bar he's got in his robes shop. Seems Merrow was seen in there not too long before the carnival. Something about meeting with Thayer."

The curve of her smile deepened, and a brief flash of satisfaction burned behind her eyes before she shoved it away. Keeping her air of casualness, Harper clicked her tongue in mock reprimand. "Tut-tut. Naughty minister." She shook her head before finding back to the folder of evidence, opening it up again.

"Don't worry. There isn't much in here anyway." Her tone eased into something softer, more hushed. "Convincing the rest of the Wizengamot of that won't take much, and I bet you Merrow will do his most to defend his soldier friend too." Poor guy. If only he knew. "I'll keep an ear out for the general consensus, tip the scales where I can."

Looking up at James she let the folder flap fall shut. The tingle of excitement had spread into her blood and glee gleamed in her eyes as she leaned closer. "Consider him acquitted," she whispered conspiratorially, a devilish curve to her lips.

"Convincing the rest of the Wizengamot of that won't take much, and I bet you Merrow will do his most to defend his soldier friend too."

"He's noble like that," James said, almost regretfully. "Men like him see an opportunity to be honorable and never think about what it could cost them in the long run." It wasn't hatred that drove James against Merrow; rather it was inaction. Wylder Merrow had done very little to enact justice against those that had turned Hogwarts upside down and put his own cousin and nephew at risk.

Merrow had refused to do more during the Irish uprising, had enacted a bill to track wands and their usage. I was the worst type of surveillance and did absolutely nothing to assist their country in tempering fires.

Worst of all, in that tower, he'd made himself absolutely useless.

If this was the easiest way to rid themselves of the lackluster Minister then so be it.

Merrow believing Blackwood would be on his side was naivety, and only went to show that the man was gravely out of his depths when the wolves were circling.

"I'll keep an ear out for the general consensus, tip the scales where I can. Consider him acquitted."

James held no real sentiment towards Gideon Blackwood either, and save his usefulness in this area and at Hogwarts, would have felt neither here nor there had the man been locked up. Still, deals had been made and James would honor them. Being a man of his word and all.

He nodded once as he took another drag from his smoke, his eyes casting lazily towards the Minister's office door.

Not much longer.

---

Thursday, January 12, 1922
The Ministry of Magic
3rd Floor Corridor

James walked swiftly alongside Harper, glancing over his shoulder as the other Wizengamot members dispersed from the conference room where the MLE had just given their final briefing before Barlowe's trial. The man's face was rigid and hard, his ears unnaturally red as his long strides carried him down the hallway. A piece of parchment was clutched in his hand - a list of evidence against the man that would go to trial in the next week.

Julia had dropped a bomb on the family. Not one that set to tear the fabric of them apart, but one that now complicated his role within the coup he and Harper had set upon the Minister. His sister - as levelheaded as she was - was expecting, and with none other than Maddox Barlowe's child.

It wasn't that James had been willing to see the Charms professor off to Azkaban; quite the opposite. He'd already given his word to Julia that her 'best friend' would remain free and amongst the living, no matter how many he had to pay off or threaten. His assistance - or rather lead - in Kathryn's matter had all but secured that outside of her obvious deep affection for the man.

But somewhere along the line, she'd gone and slept with him and now there was a baby on the line. James wouldn't see one of his own fatherless again if he could help it, and all it did was add more pressure to his already building stress-levels.

Julia Laurence was going to inflict hypertension on him one way or another.

"Bullshit," he muttered to Harper, crumpling the parchment into a ball and tossing it into the nearest bin. "Barlowe did what anyone with sense would have done. Thayer was torturing children for fucks sake." He wasn't one to usually lose his cool, even mildly, but a headache was setting in and the MLE was like a dog with a bone.

Did Maddox Barlowe deserve to rot in Askaban? Certainly not. Would she care if he did end up there anyway? Not all that much, no. Not on a personal level.

Sure, he had done them a great service by getting rid of Thayer the way he had, and sure, she looked at that with appreciation and respect. Instead of trying the man for his 'crimes', the Minister should be honouring him for what he had failed to do himself.

It was an injustice, and frankly appalling.

But his cards looked meagre, and the outcome of this trial held no consequence to her life or her plans. Her focus lay elsewhere.

James' sentiment on the issue seemed to fall right into place with hers although the fervour with which he made it known came as a surprise. Usually composed and calm, the man walking by her side seemed nothing but right now. Quite the overreaction for someone as collected as him.

Not all that inconsequential to him, it seemed.

She glanced around with an arched brow, unperturbed by his outburst but curious. "The MLE won't be easy on him," she remarked mildly. "After Haswell, they'll want to keep the ball rolling, pretend like they're serving justice. The Killing Curse?" She threw another glance sideways. "It will be almost impossible to get him out of that one, too risky. I say we let them have him. As far as I see it, he isn't of any value worth the effort."

Bold? Perhaps. Considering his reaction. Helpful to understand his motivation though.

A part of him knew he could hardly blame Harper for failing to understand the source of his irritation, or why this particular case had settled beneath his skin more deeply than the others. She was not privy to every fracture running through his family, nor to every calculation behind the little arrangement they had so carefully fashioned between them.

But James was not naïve enough to mistake her cooperation for loyalty.

If Harper saw an opening to step over him and claim the Minister’s seat for herself, she would do it in a heartbeat, without regret.

"I say we let them have him. As far as I see it, he isn't of any value worth the effort."

It stopped him. He stood quietly for a moment, before turning his gaze slowly to the woman. He stared at her for a breath, only long enough for her to feel the cold in his demeanor, his usual charm tossed to the wayside, useless in the moment.

“He is a pureblood. He is a father. And if anyone in this building is feeling careless enough to forget it, he is the reason three innocent children left that tower alive.”

James took a step away, eager to leave this conversation and get to work, but his gaze never left hers.

“That outweighs whatever reservations you believe yourself entitled to have. I will settle whoever needs settling. I will pay whoever needs paying. You'll do as you're fucking told."

He didn't wait for a response or reaction, turning swiftly and heading down the hallway with greater purpose and a thundering in his chest.

He had deals to make, and they needed to be made quickly.