In a large and ornate office, a few doors down from that of the minister, one Martel D'Isigny, Minister's Adviser, has settled in. The windows along one wall overlook the atrium, giving a perfect view of the comings and goings of every man and woman who enters the Ministry. A Fireplace is in one corner, connected to the Floo network. There are several chairs in front of Martel's desk.

Knock before entering.

Knock before entering only applied to paltry humans, and Ikenna Gevrik was nothing short of a raging bull as he stormed into Martel's office and allowed the door to slam shut behind him.

He paced along in front of the desk, fists tightly clenched and his usual impassive face bearing the expression of an angered demon straight from the gates of Hell. Gevrik didn't trust himself to speak, lest a string of unprintables came pouring out.

Several angry huffs of air did escape his notice, however. Very corporeal for a ghost.

"Ikenna." Martel spoke mildly from behind the desk, tone soothing and almost reproachful. It was rare to see the man in such form.

He looked as if he had a great desire to splinter some furniture.

Sigh.

"That one." He gestured towards a darling little footstool by the wall. Purple velvet cushion atop a rich dark wood, ornate and beautiful.

Beautiful footstool would look even better shattered into beautiful splinters. Ikenna crossed to the stool, still not speaking, and let one of his fists into its legs, breaking one clear from the seat with a single blow. With a left hook here and a right jab there, the stool was soon disintegrated into several large fragments of wood.

But Ikenna wasn't finished yet. He started blasting the scrap wood into splinters with angry, colourful bursts from his wand. He never looked up from the great mess he was creating, even as his hollow eyes took on the creepy reflection of his sparking wand.

"Bole."

Martel finished scribing a few notes with a raven feather quill, the scratches against the parchment were lost in the cacaphony that came from furniture destruction. He reread what he'd written, dotted a few i's, crossed a few t's and put his quill away, all of this as if there was not a single notable thing going on in his office.

"Ah yes. Quite the man that Bole." Martel sealed the parchment, rolling it and fastening it with a ribbon. Then he shrunk it until it was no bigger than his smallest finger and placed it to one side. "Formidable. It is a pity he is not one of ours. Do you suppose that might be changed?"

He eyed the footstool.

"Is that one enough or would you like to destroy, perhaps, a side table?" Martel asked politely.

"No." Ikenna disagreed, slowly taking his wand off the stool and looking up toward Martel. He paced back across the room, tapping his wand in his free hand as walked.

"It won't ever be changed, of this I am almost completely certain. You saw how he was last time." And he was so stubborn this time that he would prove too much of a headache to Imperius.

Gevrik nearly growled just thinking about it all.

He threw himself into a chair in front of Martel and shrugged about the stool. "Got any china?"

“Yes.” Martel agreed, a hint of his accent coming through, “But last time we had no idea he was working for the Ministry of Magic, let alone for Law Enforcement. The man is good, Ikenna. Regardless of whether or not you believe you can convince him that we are doing the right thing, find a way to use him. It would be a pity to waste a resource like that now, wouldn’t it?” They were not, after all, about wasting any resources.

“And if you fail,” Martel added conversationally, summoning a china tea set which began to pour for them, “Then I suppose I shall just have to make time to take care of it myself.”

There were simply not enough hours in the day.

He offered a poured cup of tea, complete with matching china saucer, to Ikenna, inclining his head to his old friend, adding a smile. He had asked for china.

“I have a distraction for you, one that will –naturally- further the cause and I think you’ll find is perfectly suited to your talents, my friend.” Martel stirred some honey into his tea; the delicate little spoon clinked musically against the inside of the china teacup. “And as a particularly pleasant side effect, it will manoeuvre one Evander Bole into a position where he cannot help but aid the cause.”

And in point of fact, do a great majority of the dirty work for them.

It was just lovely when things went your way.

Ikenna knew he was good. He was just too good. "Why do you think I dislike him so?" he managed to get out in an almost normal tone. "Or perhaps it would be less of waste of our time to work around him by going after those he relies upon the most."

Those Bole dealt with in both his professional and personal relationships, that is.

Gevrik accepted the tea with a twitch near his mouth. China. Ha. Martel always did know how to calm an angry Gevrik.

He took a sip and listened, just his eyebrows arching slightly. "Do go on."

About time Bole did things their way.

"Ah my friend. Bole is simply a playing piece, and not the game itself, lets not forget." Martel sipped his tea and considered Ikenna's comment. "If its necessary to take that approach then we shall. I suppose too, I could always impose on Charlie boy to," Martel waved one hand, "take care of things. Surely he would for his dear ol' Papa." And if nothing else it might prove to be enough of a challenge for his son to keep him entertained. And to test him somewhat too. Martel was ever looking for opportunities to test his son's mettle.

"Or even Christelle, who will be joining us soon." Martel murmured. Formidable woman. "Though I think I'd prefer to send her after Vindictus. I imagine he'd find her just lovely." And she was that. Martel D'Isigny couldn't deny the woman's charm, her beauty. It was another of those assets to the cause.

As for distractions?

"You've heard about the unfortunate case of the failing wards around Quidditch Pitches of the Wizarding World, I'm sure." Martel's enigmatic little smile was telling. "Naturally other locations are at risk, as I'm sure the residents of Diagon Alley will discover in.... oh... a few days." He sipped his tea comfortably. "The Minister has decided that there is one location that we absolutely must ensure is secure. You're the man for the job, my friend. Now how do you feel about going back to school?"

And as for how this would effect Bole? It was perfect really. Perfect.

Right. Martel was always right, and Ikenna felt soothed by both his words and the tea as he also took a sip.

"How is Charlie enjoying his new position?" Gevrik's tone had returned to its usual carefree manner. He did like that boy. "I've been meaning to stop by his department but I'm sure he has a handle on things."

Ikenna knew the younger D'Insigny had a handle on things, of course, but he was intending to snoop around his office anyway. Rumour had it that a rare pinball machine was lurking in the corner...

...and that could be a useful stress-reliever if Christelle was truly being brought in. The grip on his teacup tightened ever so slightly but Ikenna kept his thoughts on that woman to himself. "We wouldn't want to deny the elder Vindictus the pleasure of her acquaintance, now would we."

Perhaps there was just a bit of bitterness in his tone there. Hardly noticeable.

Ikenna took to glaring into the depths of his cup until the last of Martel's words caught his attention.

"Back to school..." he met his friend's eyes and started to smirk as he read the message there. "Ah, yes, I am an excellent student, as you know...."

Chuckle chuckle.

"He's doing well." Martel let his pride shine through for a moment. It was only Ikenna after all. Usually he tried to keep it a little more restrained since, after all, he didn't much wish for anyone to thing that Charles had been employed simply because of Martel.

Oh no. The boy... well, man really, he was well and truly capable without familial connections being necessary to pave the way.

Had Martel not known Ikenna as long and as well as he did, perhaps he might have missed the bitterness, the slight touch of whiteness around the man's knuckles as his grip tightened on the poor china teacup, but he did know him and more than that, Martel made a living of reading people and responding appropriately. Not that he felt any need to be anything other than himself with Ikenna.

"She's wholeheartedly with us. More so since Wyatt..." Ah. Tragedy. Martel sighed and shook his head, genuinely taking a moment to miss the man. "Mr. Sakura will also be joining us, once I arrange for it to be so." It was important to get Ren off the street and away from the investigations that were sure to follow after his most recent slip up. Just like hiding a thimble on a finger, hiding the Interrogator right here in the ministry would be the best way to shelter him.

"I do know. And Bole will learn too. You can be sure of that. Naturally you'll report back regularly, and as a Special Security Adviser, have even more of a run of this place." He put his cup aside and made a few coded notes.

"Shanklish and Oleander will keep you informed during your absence in the usual way." Ah yes. The joys of the owl post. "And if you require... access." As in of the sneaky, non-descript variety, "Our good friend at Gringotts can bring you home." Martel gestured at his fireplace.

"I forgot. Did you see the Quibbler article? I think they got my good side." Martel smiled. He couldn't wait to see what the Daily Prophet had to say. Tricksy, that reporter had been, but there were others at the Daily Prophet who had already begun to see the light.

"How are things progressing with Recard?"

Ikenna did like it when the D'Isignys got along, and even more so when Martel relaxed enough so that they could converse as friends. "Glad to hear that," he nodded, stretching out his legs.

Might as well get comfortable here, since it seemed they would be talking for a while.

Even when the topic was not comfortable.

"Marty, sometimes you make me wonder..." He couldn't finish his thought at mention of Wyatt. That had been like losing a brother, truly. It was hard to still hear his name especially when the cause of his death was mentioned in the same breath.

At least Ren would be here to watch her, Ikenna would make certain of that. "Good, good. Special Security Liaison, I think, sounds less...presumptuous."

Interfering was the style of the Ministry but that didn't mean Gevrik had to like it, even when he was on the inside.

He nodded again at the means of travel and communication, nothing new there, and then chuckled at mention of the Quibbler.

"You would think so," he laughed. "The latest issue overall works for our cause. I like it." Martel knew that already anyway.

Armen Recard. Ah. Ikenna extended his long legs out further and leaned forward just enough so that he could set his teacup on the desk. He eased back into his seat and rubbed at his goatee.

"Recard may actually turn into one of our most useful converts." Gevrik had plans for the man. "Although I'll need someone to keep a close eye on him - Ren should work well. If we need Wrekin and Provel to step in and give him a good shake down Knockturn, don't hesitate to do so. But I don't see him defecting anytime soon."

And certainly not as long as he had two painful reminders branded across his face.

"Liason then. I think you're right. It does have a... less alarming ring to it I suppose. Almost sounds friendly." So appropriate for such an individual as Ikenna Gevrik. He just oozed friendliness after all. Martel smiled slightly and it expanded into a full on, toothy white grin.

"I had very little to do with it you know. It was simply a matter of mentioning just a few things and... well, once they see the light, they wish to shine it for everyone to see and find the path."

A nod.

"Alright. I suppose it would be worth speaking to the man personally." Martel gave his most charming smile, very much the part of the jovial politician, the face you could trust.

"I'm quite sure Ren will do just fine. Please be sure, my friend, to keep me abreast of the situation at Hogwarts. The minister dearly wishes to know in her heart that the children will be safe and above all are educated appropriately."

Friendly. Ikenna shared in the unspoken joke with Martel, smiling as he shook his head good-naturedly.

"Yes, the light," he repeated. Of course he wholeheartedly believed in everything his friend did. "You will do well reassuring Recard. Positive reinforcement. All...that."

Marty probably should have done the persuading in the first place, but then again, Armen had been a hard sell even with the most tame of Ikenna's recruitment strategies. All that mattered was that he was on their side now, and there he would stay.

Ikenna's gaze had just strayed to his watch for a moment - nothing to do with growing impatient of Martel - when his friend's latest words captured his attention.

"Yes...." he intoned, slowly making eye contact again. "I understand." He nodded and smirked, starting to stand to make his leave. "I will be certain to give the Minister detailed reports on the state of their education. Of course, I too only have their best interests at heart."

Of course.

"I shall keep him close -if not closer- than I keep you, my friend." Friends close, Enemies closer so they say. "Bole too for that matter." Oh yes and the man likely wouldn't even know because this time, this time Martel knew where his loyalties were.

Martel stood too and reached across the desk, clasping his friend's arm in earnest. "Take care, my friend. I am ever lost without you at my side." The sentiment was true but in reality Martel was entirely capable of acting alone.

He let go and sat down again. Martel D'Isigny had work to do before his next guest arrived.

"Good, good." Ikenna's mind had been most settled by his conversation with his friend and he returned Martel's friendly gesture warmly.

"Of course. All the best until we meet again..." He paused on his way out the door and gave the Minister's Adviser a two-fingered salute wave goodbye.

Then Gevrik was gone, as swiftly but certainly more silently than when he had entered.

Lord Borr stepped out of the fireplace and ducked under the mantel. He hit the ground running, as some people say to describe people like Lord Borr. "I was JUST telling Leon that I wouldn't find YOU having idle tea time."


Could Lord Borr have been wrong?



He labored over to a chair and though it wasn't nearly large or GREAT enough for a man such as Borr, he had to take a load off. The GREAT man sat. The Floo took SO much energy and Lord Borr didn't have ANY more energy to SPARE. He gave ALL the energy he had to bettering the WORLD.

Lord Borr very nearly fell asleep upon getting as situated as one his size could in the chair in front of Martel's desk.

"A moment, Borr. I have a few things I need to finish up before we may freely speak." Martel answered, the unmistakable tone of authority tinged with only the smallest degree of attention. He was focusing entirely on what he was writing. Several small notes, written in code, which each were rolled up and shrunk as he finished them. Sakura. Shanklish. Gevrik. Provel. Montasio. Wrekin.

As well as a few others.

D'Isigny made Borr wait, but it wasn't just for the sake of it, he truly had things he needed to take care of, things that needed to be done before he and Borr spoke. Before he 'informed' Borr of what he was to do.

It was a good few minutes before he was done and Martel looked up and gave Berty Borr an assessing look, much like a hawk, deciding upon prey. Or perhaps like a preacher deciding on a sermon.

"I came here as a FAVOUR to YOU, to GUIDE you and give advice. I'm SURE you are informed of how VERY busy I am these days. ALL days, in fact, I FILL to the BRIM with good deeds and betterment of our WORLD. I cannot think of a SINGLE thing MORE important than MY time." The large man continued on whether Martel was listening or not.

Lord Borr again used his cane in the grappling-hook style to loop the handle over the arms of the adjacent chair. He tugged it towards him, the feet of the chair making LOUD, unapologetic scrapes across the floor. Lord Borr then laid his cane across the chair like it was a sword, just where he could reach it.

"We'll start today with how SPECIAL guests should be greeted upon arriving at the Ministry of Magic." Lord Borr's eyes grew heavy, but his resolve was STRONG.

"This is not the time for your theatrics, Borr." Martel held his hand up silence the man. "There is no audience. No one here but myself and you must be aware that I know you are a wastrel and a malingerer with more hair than wit and more faults than hair."

It seemed that Odessa had done his part, if Martel was not mistaken. Borr was... drowsy. Or at least, drowsier than usual. Perhaps he would froth at the mouth some. That would be an interesting sight and a small and temporary amusement for Martel.

"To begin with, we shall have silence. Have you not heard of an indoor voice?" His empty hand flicked in Borr's direction and Martel D'Isigny took Borr's ability to speak any louder than a whisper.

"I am doing you a favour. I am giving you what you have always desired but never truly put in the work to achieve on your own. You shall be my puppet, Borr. You shall dance to my tune. You shall obtain your own glory for certain, but you shall make way for mine, and for the cause. Our cause." His voice turned silky and persuasive, his accent making his words sound even more like promises, the stuff of dreams. "You desire glory do you not? Recognition of your importance. Recognition of your worth and your standing? With my help you shall earn all that and more."

Martel drew his wand, unhurried, and then twirled the length of it in his fingers thoughtfully.

"You will be what I need for you to be, Borr. And the Cult, she looks after her own. Anything you wish for, your deepest desires, it is in our power to provide it, but only to those who serve the cause and serve it well."

"LORD Borr," the giant man YELLED, though it only came out as a whisper. "I won't have dis... dis...," Lord Borr's eyes glazed over, his thought left unfinished.


Lord Borr sighed as if he were completely at peace. His posture, already strained from his girth, slumped further and his triple chin quadrupled with the weight of heavy head.

"I'm the one doing all the favours, and I'll have you remember it!" He yawned and blinked heavily again, his tone playful and light as if he were dreaming in the waking world. Lord Borr drooled on himself, but even STILL he was READY to WORK for the wizarding world and for the CULT. Even STILL he was very .... busy... and... snoring....

Martel's wand glowed and the man smiled gently as if he were watching a small child doze off. He stood and walked around behind Borr, whispering. Whispering.

Instructing.

His wand working, much as if he were conducting a choir.

"When you wake up, it will be time to begin. You will meet me on level 8. We shall speak with Olivia Hawthorne. The woman is the division head of Magical Maintenance. She shall be your right hand Borr. At least," Martel paused and put his wand away, an enigmatic smile on his face, "For now."

With that, Martel left his office, closing the door behind him and leaving Borr to his... dreams.