Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter


Far after midnight, the Ministry of Magic in London was dark and quiet. The usual hissing of the green flames of the floo network, the chatter of visitors and employees and the noise of memos, flying through the air, had quieted down hours ago.

In a small office on Level 2 however, there was still light. There were ten desks and various cabinets crammed into the room. Piles of parchment were stacked on every available surface.

At the desk furthest away from the door, sat a witch, sorting through the piles of paper in front of her at record speed. Sometimes, she stopped, crossing out sections of text, adding new sentences, or signing her name at the bottom.

Ever since Sirius Black had broken out of Askaban, almost two years ago, her life had become a massive headache, including sleep deprivation, lengthy stays at St. Mungo's and far too much paperwork.

A knock at the door had her look up.

Who in Merlin's name is still here? she thought confused. It's almost two a.m.! No one's working at this hour. Well, except for her, but that was a completely different matter, in her opinion.

Pulling out her wand, careful to keep it out of view, she called: "Enter!"

The door opened to reveal a dark skinned wizard, looking far too awake for this time of the day. The black haired witch sighed in relief, when she recognized him.

"Mr. Shacklebolt! What are you doing here, at this hour?" she asked him.

Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt eyed the small movement of her arm, as she stowed away her wand in its holster again. The feeling of the new red oak wand was still unfamiliar. Unfortunately, her first wand had been irreparably damaged three months ago, when she had been blasted through a wall.

"Jumpy, are we?" he questioned her.

"Occupational disease," the black haired witch answered with a shrug. "What can I do for you, this time? If you came to ask me about my brother again, the answer is no. No, I have neither seen nor heard from him. The answer is still the same as it was last week, the week before that - and the week before!"

The Auror laughed quietly: "Do not worry, Ms Black. I did not come to ask you about your brothers whereabouts. What gave you the idea that is what I wanted to talk about?"

Cassiopeia Black simply raised an eyebrow. Ever since Kingsley Shacklebolt had become responsible for the hunt for her brother, Sirius, he had been a pain in her backside, constantly questioning her about anything she might know about the escaped convict. Albeit, he was a lot nicer about it than the idiot Dawlish, who had been in charge before him.

She had not at all appreciated being woken up at four a.m.. Especially, since she had not managed to get to bed before two, thanks to the arrest of a dangerous criminal, that had gotten some of her colleagues hospitalized.

The questioning that followed had been lengthy, annoying and absolutely unproductive. Needless to say, her mood had not been great that day. Many Aurors had walked on eggshells around her for the following weeks, in fear of being snapped at - again.

What both, John Dawlish and Kingsley Shacklebolt, seemed to have forgotten was, that the last time she had spoken to her brother was, when she was four years old. He had then run away and stayed with James Potter, until he turned seventeen. His name had not been mentioned by their parents ever since. So how was it they thought, the first thing he did, after escaping, was to contact her? After almost twenty years of total silence?

Her parents had never gone to see their oldest son in Askaban and, after their death, Cassiopeia had not started visiting him, either. She had been focused on her career in Law Enforcement and visiting her convicted brother would not have been very conductive for that.

"Alright, maybe that was why I came here the last couple of times," Shacklebolt conceded. "But that's not why I am here today."

Cassiopeia looked at him inquiringly.

"And what is it you wanted to talk to me about, at two a.m.?" she asked. "Somehow, I get the feeling this isn't an invitation for lunch, or anything else harmless."

"You have heard about the Triwizard Tournament, at Hogwarts?" the Auror said, sitting down on an empty edge of her desk.

"Who hasn't? It's all this Skeeter woman writes about in the Daily Prophet. Horrible articles," the witch answered, shaking her head.

Those articles were disgusting and had nothing to do with reporting about the Triwizard Tournament. In her opinion, they were nothing but unproven gossip to satisfy the curiosity of dimwits and she had stopped reading after the second article was published. "It has taken the Department of International Magical Cooperation and the Department of Magical Sports and Games months to organize. I don't know what was worse, Bagman talking about the Quidditch World Cup Finale or the Triwizard Tournament. Good thing they are at Level 7 and not anywhere near us, or there might have been bodily harm."

Shacklebolt chuckled again: "I noticed that the people in your office are oversensitive at the moment. Just yesterday, I heard Jason Denbright tear stripes off Proudfoot, for some minor hiccup in a joint arrest."

Cassiopeia nodded, she had heard that particular ... conversation - through two closed office doors. Her sympathy for Auror Proudfoot was very limited, though. It should have been an easy arrests. Easy arrest did not have hiccups, even minor ones.

"We are chronically overworked. What do you expect? After that chaos with those Death Eaters and the Dark Mark at the World Cup, sightings of supposed dark wizard have tripled. Most, who call are complete nutcases. The Magic Witch Watchers don't have enough personnel anymore, so they call us for the smallest things. We are a small department and, if we are stretched out so thinly, many of us have to take unnecessary risks, which leads to injuries, which leads to even less personnel. It's a vicious circle. Do you think I like doing paperwork at two a.m.?!"

"Perhaps I shouldn't ask you, if you have so much work anyway. Maybe - "

"Just spit it out," Cassiopeia interrupted him, trying in vain to suppress a yawn. He was here now anyway, so she might as well listen to what he wanted to say.

"The Third Task is in two days. We still need another witch or wizard from DMLE to supervise, just in case anything happens. You know, if one of the creatures manages to escape or such."

Cassiopeia frowned: "Isn't that a job for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures?"

"We've already got some people from there. No, the Minister will attend and probably some international guests as well. They want someone sitting in the crowd who is able to defend everyone around. You surely know what happened 1792. We don't want any dead people this time around. Can you imagine the headline? 'Dumbledore killed by rampaging sphinx - Minister of Magic watching'. That would be a disaster. Anyway, people always feel safer with someone from DMLE around."

" - Aurors?" Cassiopeia suggested.

"We've got some Aurors there, as well, especially around the Minister, but Scrimgeour wants someone else... You know how he is, almost as bad as Mad-Eye. With Crouch missing, all of the pressure is on him - even though our office is technically not even involved," the Auror trailed off. "Scrimgeour already talked to your boss and he said it's ok - as long as you want to do it. Just, will you do it or not?"

The witch stroked her quill absentmindedly.

"Sit in the crowd, watch the Task, watch for potential dangers." That didn't sound too taxing and it would give her a reason to take a break from paperwork, if only for a day. In fact, for someone who worked in her job, it sounded quite relaxing. It might not be very comradely of her but, hey, was there anyone else in the office, doing paperwork at this hour? Especially an injured colleagues paperwork? Besides, if her boss said she could go... "Count me in."

"You'll do it?" the wizard asked, looking a bit astonished.

"That's what I just said, isn't it? Why couldn't you actually ask me that at a reasonable hour - or sent a memo?"

"I had to talk to some Ministry official in Australia, apparently, someone thought they had seen your brother," he shook his head. Clearly it had been false alarm - again. "Thanks to the time difference, I had to be here at this hour. When I saw light in here, I thought I ought to check. Scrimgeour would have talked to you tomorrow, but now I can tell him you will come."

"When and where do we meet?"

"Well, the others and I meet at ten thirty, for a debriefing, and floo in right after that. You don't need to be there for that, since you're not really involved in any of that. We'll meet you in the Entrance Hall, at half past eleven?"

"I'll be there," Cassiopeia told him and made a shooing motion with her hand. "And now get out. I have a meeting at nine and I would like to get some sleep before that and the paperwork has to be finished until then."