Quinn closed the newspaper with a severe expression on his face.
Explosion in the heart of the Ministry. An attack on the Auror Office, a place that most terrorists wouldn't even dream about attacking, but here it was in the paper— the Death Eaters had blown up the bomb inside Ministry.
"How they did do it?"
The article didn't speak much about what exactly had happened inside the Ministry. The entire front page, which was covered in the blast incident, was filled with 'expert' speculations of what could've happened inside the Ministry building. His eyes wandered to the article's byline, where Rita Skeeter was written in the place of the journalist's name. That shocked him more— the water beetle, who wrote really concise articles(even though they were mostly bogus), had written such a vague story— which meant that the Aurors had locked the premises and information so tightly that the master in the business couldn't get a peep out.
"What happened inside," Quinn started to tap on the armrest. The Auror Office was strict in their information flow to the media and public, but this level of lockdown on such a public incident was unprecedented in Quinn's experience in this country.
But one thing was clear. The fragile calmness that had been at the risk of exploding had finally blown up. The Death Eaters had attacked something that shouldn't have been targetted— if it was the canon timeline with weak leadership, Quinn wouldn't have batted an eye, but the current administration was what Quinn considered formidable.
Gawain Robards was a strict man who ruled the Auror Office with respect and strong ethics. The man was from a magical household without any affluential influence in the family; he had gone through the standard Auror pipeline from the academy to every level of the Auror hierarchy with utter hardworking excellence. When the leadership was as militant as Robards, it was bound to bleed down to the grassroots of the department. It was inevitable that Aurors Office would pivot towards a culture that would benefit from Robards' influence.
Then there was the man who ran the entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Rufus Scrimgeour was a veteran in both the field and politics— the lion-like man understood how the internals of his department worked and knew how to play the external politics to get his way. Quinn hadn't personally witnessed how Bartemius Crouch Senior ran DMLE, but from what he had heard, it seemed the ex-DMLE head's work was similar to how Rufus Scrimgeour handled business.
Then there was Minister Amelia Bones. In comparison to someone like Rufus Scrimgeour, she seemed tame, but that was when someone from the outside looked at it. Amelia Bones had started her career as an entry-level clerk in the Ministry in DMLE and had risen up to the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement without being either an Auror or a Hit Wizard— but had somehow managed to keep all the ambitious ones like Rufus Scrimgeour under her heel for a long and successful career before ascending to her current position.
All three of the most influential people in the Ministry originated from DMLE, and that origin base of theirs had been attacked. In no way were these bigwigs going to twiddle their thumbs and do nothing at such disrespectful discretion against them.
They were going to retaliate.
And Quinn needed to be on top of those things to ensure he knew things as they happened to get the most out of them. He had to know what had happened inside and what was the vibe inside DMLE to understand how to map his next moves.
He got up from his chair and shouted that he wasn't going to have lunch before leaving West Manor to get some answers.
. . .
Rita Skeeter had just entered her go-to diner/cafe for lunch when she heard a voice call out to her.
"Ms. Skeeter."
Skeeter paused in her heels. Took a shallow breath, put on her best smile, and turned towards the source, thinking it was a fan who wanted her autograph, but inside she was already cursing the person who she hadn't even seen yet— the reason she chose to eat this place was that she could eat in peace without getting noticed by pesky dung flies.
But when the 'dung fly' entered her vision, her plastic smile froze on her face. Sitting in front of her was one of the people she disliked most in her life.
". . . Quinn West," she all but whispered.
Quinn raised his glass of rose soda sherbet towards Skeeter with a smile, and even though he didn't ask her to join, she walked to Quinn's table and sat down opposite him.
Quinn waited till the waitress took Skeeter's order before snapping his finger and isolating every single vibration of sound from going outside.
"What a coincidence, Ms. Skeeter," smiled Quinn. "Who knew I would end up running into you at the quaint little cafe I decided to try out today. It was as if we were supposed to meet today."
Skeeter fake-polite-chuckled, "I never thought you'd believe in such things, Quinn."
"What can I say? They can be fun at times," said Quinn. He sipped his refreshing drink before asking, "I have to say, I was surprised reading your article today, Ms. Skeeter. It's much different from what you usually write."
". . . You read my articles, Quinn? I was under the assumption that you weren't interested in such things."
"Rubbish. Why wouldn't I be interested in the news? It's critical to be aware of what's happening in the world, and Daily Prophet's good writers and editors do an excellent job of telling a side of the story, Quinn laughed. "Speaking of, I am genuinely interested in the piece you published today, and I have a few questions about it."
Skeeter's smile faltered for a split moment before coming back full force. She 'ho-ho-ho' laughed with her hand covering her lips. "I'm glad you liked my work, but unfortunately, because of the sensitivity of the situation, I can't talk about it outside of work— moreover, everything I know is already in the article, there's no need for you to talk to me."
"Surely you must be jesting, Ms. Skeeter. The written word is my favorite, and I don't believe that you don't have something other than what was written on it. Come one, Ms. Skeeter. . . there must be something in there that you couldn't fit inside the packaged article that you posted, the other things that were left on the planning board— tell me things you couldn't put out for everyone to read."
Skeeter narrowed her eyes a fraction as she stared at Quinn. She knew this was coming. There was no way this was a coincidence— she would retire and put her pen down for good if someone could prove it wasn't planned— that she ended up meeting Quinn during lunch. His asking about the article so bluntly made everything clear behind the question of why Quinn had interjected her here today.
Additionally, she noticed how Quinn hadn't said a single word of compliment in the form of a 'please.' He wanted her to answer the questions, and from what Skeeter knew, he wasn't the type to take a refusal especially with their particular past.
". . . It all started with a fire in the muggle world," she said. "There must've been some news about there being magic involved because the Aurors were sent out to the scene. They must've brought something back from the arson because something exploded down there, and I suspect it was something that they had brought in."
Quinn leaned forward. "It wasn't an infiltration?" he asked.
"Doesn't seem like it. The Auror Office would've said something if there had been an arrest. They would've tried to push the faulty security measures to another department. But the entire DMLE has been abnormally quieter as if everything knows something others don't— and no one wants to open their mouth."
Quinn leaned back, and his thoughts began churning. The Death Eaters had sneaked a bomb into the building, right under everyone's nose, sneaked in an object. If it wasn't a Death Eater suicide bomber, then how did it happen?
"Who might know this, Ms. Skeeter," he asked.
"Someone high enough in the hierarchy, but none of those people I tried to talk to would even meet me. . ."
". . . and you couldn't use your usual methods, why?."
"They're persistent," Skeeter spat. "The entire department doesn't look like they have the key to the fountain of youth."
". . . I see," Quinn hummed before asking, "What's about the Minister's reaction on this, anything on that front?"
Skeeter shook her head.
Quinn sighed and settled down. The information was truly short. Even Skeeter only knew so little. . . . But he had found something new, and it was time to take that small lead and try to find more.
Quinn got up from his chair and spoke, "That'd be all for now, Ms. Skeeter. It was intriguing to talk to you about this, but now I must leave." He unceremoniously got up with no words of warning— Skeeter knew what would happen if she tried to use their meeting to spin another story. And was about to step away when he stopped and faced Skeeter. "I'll be keeping in touch, Ms. Skeeter. Who knows when someone might find some interesting facts. . . and who better but you to write about them."
- (Scene Break) -
Sirius Black exited a floo and stepped onto the Vertic Alley. It was already evening, and his workday was over, and with the blast, everything had been a heavy rush of things stampeding over him— and that beating made him want to have a drink, so after a hectic day, he ventured towards his favorite bar in the country.
He walked in the empty street without fear. It looked like the perfect place to get mugged, but Sirius walked confidently without care— would some petty mugger dare to even breathe in front of him.
As he was thinking about his day and all the heaviness that was floating above the office, a distorted voice called,
"Sirius Black."
He looked back, and if yesterday had been a surprise, this was another version of it. It was not because of the distorted voice— sure, it played a bit part— but what shocked every other thought from his mind was the figure covering him from head to toe, staring at him with deep violet eyes.
It was the Invisible Vigilante
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Quinn West - MC - Information is very important.
FictionOnlyReader - Author - Sorry for the slightly shorter chapter, but this seemed like the perfect spot.
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