(1941-11-11) - Hair of the Dog
Details for Hair of the Dog
Summary: Effie pops into the M.A.C. office to see a man about some paperwork. She finds Niobe instead.
Date: 11 November, 1941
Location: Accidents and Catastrophes, Ministry Of Magic, London
Related: None

The door to the MAC office is firmly shut, as per usual, but it isn't impossible to get open. It's just, well, this is MAC, and when the office isn't fixing catastrophes, they do tend to cause quite a lot of them. Particularly when the Committee is in session, as they are today. Over in the lounge, the furniture has been rearranged into a sort of arena of sorts. A central empty floor surrounded by poofty chair for sitting. At the moment, there's only a single person in the area, a slim, brunette witch with a mirror in her right hand, who appears to hitting herself repeatedly on the head with her wand. Any closer and the reason will become apparent, as her hair seems to have taken on a life of its own, wiggling and waving on her head like a sea anemone, "This is such a bad look."

The door to the MAC office opens and closes swiftly, admitting one grey-clad witch. She is limping slightly, and she looks around half-warily upon entering. Her lips twitch briefly, and she walks through the office, apparently hunting for…. someone. Finally she pauses near the lounge, and she tilts her head to the side, birdlike, watching Niobe for a moment. "Have you seen Perriney? I've got a report copy he needed…." Her voice trails off. "It's… an interesting look…."

"Call out to Surrey, toddler catching flies in the back garden with a three foot long tongue." Niobe continues to bang herself on the head, managing to clear patches but it's a losing battle. She's always been the sort to want to try to fix a charm, rather than just go the easy route and sever it and write it off as a lost cause, "I got the short straw today." It's the pre-dawn shift on Friday, which means testing applications for cosmetic charms. "You should have seen me an hour ago. I looked like a Hungarian sheepdog." She finally stops hitting herself, and looks over, "Don't see you around these parts so often, Grant. Heard the Aurors have been seeing a lot of service lately."

"Looks more like you drew the short mop instead," answers Effie. She flops down in a chair, making sure to stay away from the tip of the wand. "Maybe if you twined the hair around the wand, it would help you—?" Shrugging, she rubs one hand along her leg. "I can't say it's a good look on you, Walker. But I have paperwork he needs to sign off on, to confirm all five of the Muggles had their memories modified. I'm paired with this rookie until the end of the year, if he doesn't wash out, anyway. Nice bloke, butg he thought our suspect was about to curse us, and so he…. ah…. overreacted. One spell, just a half-minute more, could have gotten him cold, but instead we end up with a duel on our hands. Five Muggles, the suspect got away, and I might have to pop into Mungos before I go home…."

"New salon, trying to market their own line of hair regrowth charms. I think they're trying to appeal to those of us who are terrible at potions. That or vain wizards who don't want to have to explain why they keep getting post owls carrying brown-wrapped packages." Niobe tries the trick you suggest, and it does seem to help. Better Shirley Temple curls than anemone hair. Still, there's real work to be done. She can fix her hair another time. A tap of the wand to her head, and her hair returns to normal. Niobe unfolds herself from her seated position and heads towards the collection of log books piled up at a desk in the near corner of the room, "I can certainly check the logs. Does he have to sign off on it, or can I take care of it for you?"

"If he's already logged it, I just need a copy of the log and your initials." Effie sighs softly. "If it's not logged… ah, well. Then I'll wait here. Might Floo home…. I think I'd fall asleep mid-apparition." She shudders. "Been pulling double-shifts too often…. Burrish can't come back too soon. Yes, we're busy. This whole Muggle war…. and, of course, there are plenty of people worried that Grindlewald'll look this way. Anyway. Plenty of unrest. Plenty of opportunity. Dark enough times…. Ugh. At least the air raids don't seem to be so much an issue anymore."

Niobe flicks her wand, the area turning back into its usual comfortable seating arrangement, "Why don't you see if you can get a few minutes rest, while I look it up and see what he left." Niobe runs a wand tip down along the spines of the volumes, before she pulls out the one she was looking for, tucking the wand behind her ear, as she carries the book over to an empty desk, "He's usually pretty efficient. Has to be, with all the inspections we've been having." She purses her lips, looking back over to you, "It's all my father can do to keep my mother at home. They're so desperate for good nurses. She just turned seventy this year, but she's determined to get back out there." A slight frowns crosses her face, one Effie would probably be familiar with. It's easy to forget that as a wizard you're so long-lived…except if you happen to have Muggle family, and you are faced with seeing them get older while you sort of don't. Not at the same pace, anyway.

"My father served in the first war," answers Effie, propping her feet on a second chair. "Nigh lost his leg…." She frowns, taking off her hat and pulling her hair free of its tight bun. "They raise collies. And keep some sheep. But mostly it's kennels. They've been raising and training dogs for the war now. My brother helps….but they're afraid he'll get called to war. He's got a wife… and a little girl. I haven't met her yet…. he took my being a witch…. hard." She shrugs her shoulders again, then winces. "Last week someone missed a family of Muggles who saw the boggart that got into the Underground."

"My thanks to your father for his service. My mother was here in London, and her stories were absolutely terrible. I don't even want to contemplate how much worse it was in the trenches." She pauses, considering, "I don't think we give Muggles enough credit, you know? They go out into their world and they give everything, all without the cushion that our magic allows us." She smiles, as Effie describes her family, "I keep thinking I might like a dog. But my house pretty much looks just like this place. Not exactly a safe environment." There's sympathy in Niobe eyes at the comment, "Because he isn't?" Niobe doesn't know much about Effie's family. She looks back down to the book, flipping pages until she finds the heading with the Auror's name in it, "He's got it logged. Looks like one of the Muggles proved especially difficult. They had to visit him a few times before it stuck." She holds out a hand for the paperwork the Auror brought with her, "I read about that in the Times, I think. Something about seeing german soldiers trying to get onto the trains?" At least that's how it was finally written up in the paper. And episode of mass hysteria.

"Aye, that was it." Effie shakes her head. "I felt terrible for them. Poor people. We still haven't found who released it." She smiles. "I'm muggleborn, so…. I get it. Still visit my parents often…. they have a cottage on their back acrage for me and my husband." She pulls out a scroll written up in a flowing, graceful script, and she holds it out to the older woman. "You know, one of my dogs had a littler this summer. I homed all the pups but one. She's a runt, no doubt of that, but healthy. She's quiet and very well-mannered. I've brought her to work with me a few times. She's yours if you want her."

"I doubt that you will." Not because they're incapable just…a lot of pranksters these days, "Muggle-baiting is getting worse every day. We've been run ragged trying to put out fires, and I don't even want to think about what's going on down in Mis-use of Muggle Artifacts." Niobe reaches out, accepting the scroll, and laying it out on the table. She takes her time, reading over the parchment, just to ensure that shes matching the right incident to the right report log, before she signs. She pulls her wand out from behind her ear, and taps the paper, the letters of her name glimmering for a moment as she places an authentication charm on it. Of course, she could probably have just written her name in blood but that is just so sixteenth century. "I'd love to meet her. I think it would be a matter of her deciding if she liked me, more than the other way around." Niobe offers the parchment, rerolled, back to Effie, "We should get you to St. Mungo's." She points to the fireplace furthest from the door, "That one goes right to the Trauma Ward." She points to the small pile of used tennis balls in a bowl next to the fireplace, "Or those Keys if you prefer that. Or I can apparate us. No one wants to see the department an Auror down."

"I'll bring her down soon, then. Maybe my next shift…. it's a short one here, and if I'm lucky it will only be a paperwork shift. Then a few hours walking, but not in London proper. I get to do winter shifts up north, because I'm the crazy Highlander who likes the snow." She shifts her weight. "Right. Off to Mungo's, then, and thanks." She pulls out her wand to sign the parchment herself, then sends it galumphing off to file itself. "Good luck with your hair. And sometime ask me about Portkey Polly." She limps towards the fireplace.

Niobe steps back, giving Effie a clear path to the fireplace, the log book placed back on the shelf. "I look forward to meeting her. I don't think you're crazy because you like the snow, I think you're crazy because you like being out in the middle of nature." No, it's not just her accent that marks Niobe as a Londoner. "You're welcome." She'll watch to make sure you get off safely, and just before you depart in the fireplace, if you should chance to look back, you'll see her tap her head with her wand and instantly sprout sheepdog locks all the way down to her toes. Nope, not a good look at all. Back to the drawing board.

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