Marcus Travers arrived at the Minister's office after leaving the school, sighing at the amount of work that had just been deposited into his already busy schedule. To think he planned for an early dinner and a relaxing evening...

He began walking towards Moody's office, giving himself time to organize his thoughts. The first step would be to get the judges into the DMLE headquarters, thanking Attorney Blair for drafting the contact the way she did as there would be less opposition. Well, that may be the wrong word, but there was definitely going to be less paperwork, an excellent outcome in Marcus' opinion. That was where the easy part ended. The Beauxbatons Headmistress signed no contract, which meant that questioning the woman or even bringing her to the Ministry would be a nightmare, so he needed to contact the French Minister if he wished to avoid an international confrontation. Being the clever man he was, he decided Madam Bones could take care of that.

The next matter was related to the task itself. Once again, he thanked his paranoia for being ever-present in his life. He didn't wish to even consider what would happen if they gave all the details of the task to the headmasters instead of a general idea, though the goobsnark needed to be replaced. Shame.

Who wanted to take care of a goobsnark? No one, absolutely no one. The things looked adorable when they were not trying to gut you. They resembled cute little puppies, cute and somewhat deformed puppies that tried to assassinate you. And what kind of person harmed a puppy? A goddamned bastard, that is, and no one wanted to be the evil sod that kicked the goobsnark out of its new home in the Department of Mysteries, no matter how much destruction the blasted creature caused, even with the amount of paperwork that was involved in each disaster. The first task was the perfect place to get rid of the creature - it could have run away and there was always the chance of a misguided spell hitting it.

Marcus took a deep breath, noticing that he was rambling, thing that he seemed to be doing more frequently than not. He would take care of the goobsnark later. The man noticed he arrived to Moody's office and was about to knock when it was opened.

"What are you waiting for? Come in," the Head of the DMLE barked.

"Good evening, Auror Moody," Marcus greeted, taking a seat and forgoing his usual formality.

"I already told you to drop the titles," the man grumbled, scowling at his visitor, though he could also be scowling at the mountain of paperwork that flooded the desk or smiling at him - it was hard to tell. "And if you came here to give me more paperwork to fill, leave before you regret it."

"I'm surprised to see you doing it and not Kingsley."

"Bah, he bailed out a few hours ago, something related to not having slept for a few days," the man grumbled, stabbing a piece of parchment. "I don't think you came here to chitchat."

"No, I didn't," Marcus agreed, mourning his once free evening. "I need you to send a few Aurors to retrieve the judges of the Tournament. While the international ones are out of our reach, we'll begin with our own and then we can focus on the others."

"So one of them already broke the contract... I must say this again boy, your talents are being wasted in your position. You would make a great Auror," the scarred man commented and sent a patronus to his Aurors.

"I believe you're one of the few who call paranoia a talent," the younger male answered, composing a polite smile and pretending he didn't hear Moody complimenting him.

"Constant vigilance!" his companion exclaimed. "That's a true talent that few possess. One of the reasons I'm still alive and one of the best qualities any Auror can have-"

The man's passionate discourse was interrupted by four Aurors barging into the office, dressed and ready for the emergency call. The senior undersecretary contained a relieved sigh - he didn't want to hear another speech on why paranoia was vital.

"Attention!" the severe head of the DMLE ordered. "You are going to retrieve... Who are the judges again?"

"Newman Twig, Head of the International Magical Cooperation Department. Jennifer Sagrav, Head of the Magical Games and Sports Department. They must be in their offices at this hour and, if they aren't, you're allowed to search for them in their houses. The last judge is Madam Marchbanks - she may be in the usual cafe, enjoying her evening. In case she's not there, ask her secretary for her location," Marcus explained, envying the old woman and her paperwork delegating ability.

"What if anyone complains?" asked a young Auror that had a quite unusual shade of hair, as he doubted that bubblegum pink was normal, though her face seemed familiar - maybe she was also a student while he was at Hogwarts.

"Remind them of the contract and the penalties. If they try to resist you are allowed to use force," Marcus told her.

"What are you waiting for?" Alastor snapped at his subordinates. "I want them in different interrogation rooms in less than an hour."

"Yes, sir!" the four said in unison and left the office in hurried steps.

"Have the Veritaserum ready," Marcus told the older man in a nonchalant tone.

"Do you have any idea of how much paperwork that involves?" Moody asked with deliberated slowness, as if testing his mental capability.

"You forget that I'm the senior undersecretary and don't have a minion doing my work," was Marcus' somewhat querulous response. "It's fortunate for both of us that being questioned under Veritaserum, in case of an emergency, is part of the contract they signed."

Marcus ignored the predatory glint in Moody's eyes at the news and wondered if it was wise to inform the man about that detail. Deciding that it may not be his smartest decision, but not really caring about the outcome, the young man relaxed for a few seconds before going to his office.

"Please, summon me when the judges are ready for questioning."

"Won't you wait here?"

"I have a few stacks of paperwork that are waiting for me," was Marcus' nonchalant response to the surprised man.

The senior undersecretary exited the office after nodding to the Auror, who seemed to share his pain regarding the torture named paperwork. He was walking at a leisurely pace, procrastinating for as long as possible, when someone crashed into him. Marcus stabilized himself without problems and helped the stranger to do the same, noting with some degree of amusement the angry glare that his assailant was directing at him.

"I apologize, I was distracted," Marcus said, emulating the gallant tone that Harry used whenever he wanted to piss off people.

"It's fine," managed to mutter the person in an almost inaudible voice.

"Did you get hurt?" he asked, smiling at the annoyed worker, feeling satisfaction at the person's souring scowl. "After all, I wouldn't want Mister Twig's assistant to fail his duties due to my clumsiness."

"There's no problem," was the dry response.

"If you say so, Assistant Weasley," Marcus said, wearing a captivating smile that would make many blush, but it only served to make the red-head angrier. "Ah, before you leave, do you know where your boss is?"

"Mister Twig's schedule is private. If you want to-"

"I think you misunderstand me," Marcus clarified. "This has nothing to do with personal matters, but with official business. If you know, please go to Auror Moody's office and tell him, preferably without warning your boss... unless you wish to deal with Minister Bones, of course. Have a good day, Assistant Weasley." His farewell was delivered with the utmost respect, which did nothing to appease the incensed assistant.

Marcus arrived at his office with no further interruptions. While he enjoyed riling up the twins' brother, as petty as it was, it was unable to suppress the anger that simmered in his core... He didn't forget the bruise on Fred's cheek, nor had he forgave any of the Weasleys for allowing it to happen. One day, they would pay, as would all those who dared to harm his friends.

Though he guessed that the Weasley patriarch wasn't that bad - the man did his best to provide for his family, not noticing that he was pushing his children aside. The eldest brothers of the twins weren't that bad either and he didn't know their youngest siblings... Perhaps Marcus had a personal vendetta against the Weasley matriarch and that annoying child of hers. Either way, there was always more space if people needed to be added to his blacklist.

With a defeated sigh, Marcus began working on the details that would have to be changed for the first task. He thanked that overcautious voice inside him that forced him to make plans in case something like this happened because it meant he would actually sleep a few hours. Between filling forms, checking records, and issuing orders, he didn't notice time flew by until a mastiff-shaped patronus pranced into his office.

"The judges are waiting," it announced in Moody's voice and dispersed.

Marcus filled two folders with the necessary documents and walked to the DMLE cells without interruptions. When he arrived, the sight that received him was so bizarre that, for a moment, he thought either Madam Bones had a strange sense of humour or he was hallucinating.

Madam Marchbanks was sitting on a couch, sipping tea while she reviewed some documents and somehow ignored the mayhem. The young Auror that seemed familiar was sporting bright hair that fluctuated between red and blue while muttering curses under her breath. Madam Bones was barking into a mirror in fast-paced French and Moody was almost glowing in excitement, which was such a surreal sight that his brain suppressed it from his memories. However, in contrast to the man's expression, his eyes were hard.

"Marcus, here you are!" Madam Bones exclaimed.

"Madam, I apologize for the lateness," he muttered, still looking around in confusion.

"It's a mess," the Minister muttered, "Auror Tonks and Auror Watson went to Jennifer's house because they were unable to find her. They found her alright. She was meeting with Maxime," the woman explained, sagging when her last sentence was delivered.

"I guess the Headmistress got apprehended."

"She did, which means I have to sort the international melodrama..."

"I already sorted the documents for the task and the elves are taking care of the changes. Only a few papers need your signature," he told the tired woman.

"Perfect. I'll be leaving all this mess in your hands while I speak with the French Minister."

"Understood, but I suggest having a few Aurors following you."

"Dawlish and Shacklebolt are on their way."

"Very well, I will interrogate the judges but do nothing with Maxime until you say so, Ma'am."

"Thanks," the woman said, looking grateful. "I'll be going."

Marcus nodded at the tired woman and hardened his visage while he approached the Head of the DMLE.

"Auror Moody, I think it would be better to begin with Madam Marchbanks so we don't make her wait."

"Ah, Travers, your talents are being wasted," the man muttered, his expression morphing into what could be considered a frightening version of a smile. "Warrens! Escort Madam Marchbanks to the questioning room! Let's go, lad, we don't have all day."

The men entered a rather spartan room that contained a few chairs and a table. Marcus thought that Nile would have a heart attack if he was ever introduced to such a bleak place... But then again, the elf re-decorated the Blacks' house and he might consider it a great gift to show off his talents.

"Good evening, Madam. I apologize for bringing you here in such an inappropriate way," Marcus said as a greeting.

"No problems, dear, though I want to finish this as soon as possible. A delightful dinner is waiting for me," the old woman said in an almost lackadaisical way. "We can skip the pointless interrogation and go straight to the Veritaserum... For your information, I do read what I sign," the woman said when she noticed the surprised expressions on her companions' faces.

"Very well, if you're willing..." Marcus muttered, signalling the Auror to administer the doses and taking out a dictaquill and a few parchments. "Transcript of the Formal Interrogation of the British Judges of the Triwizard Tournament: Griselda Marchbanks and Newman Twig. Main Investigators: Auror Alastor Moody and Undersecretary Marcus Travers. Reason for Investigation: Speculative contract infringement, abuse of authority, and high treason against the British Ministry of Magic. Place of Interview: DMLE interview room number 8. Date: November 24th, 1994." The young man said, and the quill danced over the pages while recording his words. "Questioning of the suspect Griselda Marchbanks begins at 17:46. The suspect volunteered to be questioned under Veritaserum, which was administered by Auror Jacob Warrens. The cork carries the official certification seal P-55 and is labelled as vial number 135," he described while checking the vial and signalling Moody to begin the questioning.

"State your complete name and date of birth," Alastor told the woman with more gentleness than expected.

"Griselda Marguerite Marchbanks, born on 16th of January, 1815," the woman stated, her potion induced trance not allowing her to notice that her companions choked on their own spit when she mentioned her age.

"Did you, at any moment, infringe the contract that you signed regarding the Triwizard Tournament?"

"No."

"Did you, at any moment, commit any crime relating to your positions of authority?"

"No."

Moody observed the woman's blank expression for a few seconds and signalled the other Auror to administer the antidote. He shook his head at Marcus, who nodded in understanding.

"The suspect proved to be innocent; no further action will be taken. Auror Warrens administered the antidote for the Veritaserum potion. The cork has the official certification seal A-78 and is labelled as vial number 285," Marcus muttered, touching the quill for it to stop writing. "You can leave now, Ma'am. We apologize for the inconvenience."

"There's no need. I know very well what my job entails," the woman dismissed the youngster's worries. "Alastor, dear, I'll be expecting you and Edgar on Saturday for tea," the woman said and walked out of the room.

"A word of this, and both of you are dead," growled the scarred man after the old woman left. "Warrens, bring Twig!"

Marcus smirked at the man and could have sworn that there were the hints of a blush on his cheeks. He decided to archive this newfound piece of information as teasing material for later... However, his thoughts were interrupted by the loud complaints of the struggling man Jacob was bringing with him.

"You can't do this! It's an abuse of authority!" Newman yelled as loudly as he could.

"Mister Twig, we will begin the interrogation whether you like it or not. It depends on you whether it will be easy or hard," Marcus told the man in a cheery tone.

"I did nothing wrong," the man insisted.

"Then I believe you will have no problem with answering our questions, and even subjecting yourself to Veritaserum," the undersecretary told the man.

"I won't accept the Veritaserum, that's a violation of my rights," the man snapped, sneering at the other people in the room.

"I'm afraid I have to inform you that it's not your decision to make, you renounced to many rights the moment you signed your contract," Marcus informed the irrational man. "Now, let's stop chitchatting," he said while touching the quill, which sprang to life, ready to take notes. "Questioning of the suspect Newman Twig begins at 17:53."

"State your complete name and date of birth," Alastor barked at the pale man.

"Newman Walter Twig, born on the 7th of December of 1968," the man muttered, clenching his fists.

"Did you, at any moment, infringe the contract that you signed regarding the Triwizard Tournament?"

"Of course not! I don't want to be left destitute because of those ridiculous fines," the man answered in a huff.

"Did you, at any moment, commit any crime relating to your positions of authority?"

"No," Newman muttered in an almost unintelligible way.

"Is there something you wish to confess before the Veritaserum?" Alastor asked the man, examining his every movement.

"You can't force me to consume Veritaserum!"

"As I said before, Mister Twig, yes we can," said Marcus, smiling at the sweating man.

"If you say what you know, the repercussions won't be as terrible as when we eventually find the truth," Moody warned the man, signalling the Auror to prepare the vial of the potion.

"She's my friend," the man sighed, sagging on his chair and casting a longing glance at the door. "Jennifer is my friend."

"And she was caught in a compromising position. She was found giving Headmistress Maxime more information about the Tournament and will be lucky if her job is the only thing she loses," Alastor informed the distressed man, who paled further.

"I'll talk, but promise you'll do your best for her not to end up in Azkaban," Newman begged, looking utterly defeated.

"You're asking us something that isn't feasible," Marcus told the desperate man and took pity on him. He knew that, for a real friend, a person would do the impossible. "However, I can promise you that her name won't appear in the newspapers. Her crimes will not be of public knowledge but they will remain on her records."

"Do you promise?" asked the man, his dull eyes illuminating with the slightest glimmer of hope.

"I do."

“...Jennifer has been in a bad economic situation for the last year and neither of her jobs is enough to pay for the debts her sister has. Last week, she finished paying everything,” the man said in a shaky tone. “I knew that she did something to receive such a large amount of money, days later, I heard her speaking with someone about meeting in a bar of Knocturn Alley. At first, I thought the desperation drove her to extreme measures, so I followed her to confirm my suspicions and help her if possible. I didn't recognize the person she met with, but she handed him a folder and received money in return... I confronted her that day. She begged me not to say anything because she needed the money and I agreed... What else could I do? She is my best friend,” the weary man explained.

"Did you loan her money?"

"I did, almost my whole salary until she began rejecting it because she felt guilty."

"That's all," Moody told the defeated man. "You're not allowed to leave the country unless you receive the explicit permission of the Minister. You will be trailed by an Auror until the trial takes place as we may need your testimony in the future. Also, you are not allowed to contact Jennifer Sagrav in any way. Warrens, guide him out and tell Sterling that she's assigned to guard him."

"The suspect proved to be guilty of covering up the perpetrator, a fine will be issued but no further action will be taken," Marcus told the quill, which wrote until it was deactivated. "We need more information about the woman... Ares!" the young man announced, and an elf popped in the room.

"Mister Marcus, what is it that you need?" asked the curious elf.

"Sorry to call you this way, but I have an important task for you," he said, and the little worker's ears perked up. "Jennifer Sagrav. Find everything you can about her."

"Everything?"

"Everything," the young man confirmed and the elf's smile would have put the Cheshire cat to shame. Ares disappeared in a pop.

"You assigned an elf to investigate," Moody muttered, looking at the undersecretary as if he was a strange and quite imbecilic bug.

"You can thank me later," was Marcus' casual response.

"You're nuts," the scarred man commented but said nothing else regarding the theme. "Sagrav attacked one of my Aurors," he muttered while glaring at the door, "I want her charged with attempted murder."

"We can add that to the interrogation," Marcus agreed, "How's your Auror?"

"Watson is being treated at the moment. We have no idea whether he'll make it," the man grumbled, clenching his fists as he explained. "I have to thank you, Travers. You bugged me and Amelia till the Aurors received basic medical training. If it wasn't for that, a good man would've been lost... Tonks is still in shock. She's a good kid, a tad impulsive, but her instincts are enough to make up for it. I don't if she would have been able to get over the death of her partner."

"At least my paranoia did something good," the young man muttered in an effort to break the serious atmosphere. "Auror Tonks is a Metamorphmagus, right?"

"That she is. I'm surprised you don't know her - she graduated two years before you."

"Ah, I wasn't a social butterfly," Marcus explained and a comfortable silence descended on the room as both occupants were focused on their own thoughts. "Where's Sagrav?" Marcus asked after a few minutes, frowning at the door.

As if on cue, the door was kicked open and a struggling woman was dragged in by two Aurors. Tonks' red hair was almost flaring as she pushed the accused into the chair and Warrens cast a binding spell on her. Marcus observed the panicking woman and the two Aurors, raising an eyebrow.

"We apologize, she was resisting and we didn't want to manhandle her," Warrens explained between gritted teeth.

"Stay at her side," Alastor ordered the male Auror. "Tonks, out."

"But I need to be here!" she explained, but one could almost hear the pleading in her voice.

"No, you need to rest," the scarred man told her, leaving no room for discussion.

The young Auror left the room with heavy steps and slumped shoulders. Moody's eyes softened for a fraction of a second, hardening again when his gaze landed of the accused.

"Transcript of the Formal Interrogation of the British Judge of the Triwizard Tournament: Jennifer Sagrav," Marcus said, after touching his quill and subjecting the woman to an impassive stare. "Main Investigators: Auror Alastor Moody and Undersecretary Marcus Travers. Reason of Investigation: contract infringement, abuse of authority, attempted murder, and high treason against the British Ministry of Magic. Place of Interview: DMLE interview room number 8. Date: November 24th, 1994. Questioning of the suspect Jennifer Sagrav begins at 18:21."

"How do you plead to these charges?" Alastor asked the squirming woman, who remained silent.

"Miss Sagrav, we don't have all day," the younger man told the woman. "If you refuse to answer, then we will be forced to administer Veritaserum."

"You can't do that," the woman whispered in an almost robotic tone. "It's illegal to administer Veritaserum without the explicit agreement of the questioned or without an order of the Wizengamot."

"You seem to forget something important," Marcus said with more enthusiasm than necessary. "Your contract," he declared while taking out a parchment from one of his folders and placing it on the table for the suspect to read.

"One more chance, Sagrav. The moment we put you under the potion, your stay in Azkaban will be longer," Alastor told the paling female. "Warrens, prepare the-"

"I'll talk," she murmured between clenched teeth, "but you have to promise that you'll be lenient."

"You're in no position to make requests of any kind, our response depends on your cooperation... In any case, Mister Twig will still be prosecuted for covering for you," Marcus stated, giving her a cheery smile.

"He has nothing to do with this!" she yelled but controlled herself. "Please, leave him out of this... My family has many debts because of my sister - she has a gambling addiction that only worsened as time went by. I've been trying to pay off her debts to protect my family, but the collectors became more violent this year. My salary wasn't enough to cover my family's expenses and pay off the debts... Newman lent me a lot of money, but I couldn't keep taking it. He had his first child not long ago and his family needs it more than I do."

"Before you continue, why didn't you report this to the DMLE? Betting is a highly regulated activity."

"Because I'm ashamed and if I report it, my sister is going to get into trouble," the woman muttered. Her fists were clenched so tight it was obvious she was hurting herself.

"You haven't answered, Sagrav. How do you plead to the charges?" Moody almost growled.

"Guilty to contract infringement and innocent to everything else... I declare myself broke, the fine that the contract dictates is much more than what I can afford," she muttered as her cheeks burned in shame at the admission.

"You were found dealing with information today, in your house. What details did you sell to Maxime?"

"First, I gave her the information about the first task. Yesterday, I had a glimpse of the obstacle course in the arena. I was telling her about that when the Aurors arrived."

"Did you sell information to any other person?" Marcus asked before Moody could state his own question.

"Yes," she whispered after a long moment of deliberation. "He sent me a letter stating that he would pay me a large sum of money if I told him details of the task. We met once... I never saw his face and the voice wasn't familiar. He never gave me a name to be addressed by and I never asked."

"What details did you share with him?"

"Everything I know about the Tournament."

"Why did you attack my Auror?" Alastor asked at last in a deceptively calm tone.

"It was on instinct," she answered, though she had lost what remained of her colour. "Two people suddenly barged into my kitchen - what was I supposed to do? Offer them tea and biscuits?"

"Were you unable to recognize the uniform?"

"I said it was on instinct, once I properly saw them I didn't resist."

"Your version clashes with my Auror's report," Moody sneered at the woman.

"Maybe your Auror is biased because I accidentally harmed her partner."

"Maybe, but it will all be cleared up when we question you under Veritaserum," Marcus informed the accused.

"Can't we skip that? I don't feel comfortable with you questioning me under the potion."

"That's quite unfortunate, Miss Sagrav. You see, the thing is that no one here trusts you," Marcus cordially told the woman. "It's obvious that you're not telling us the whole truth."

"I told you everything I know," Jennifer snapped at the other occupants of the room. "I already admitted selling information! What else do you want me to do? To lie and say I'm guilty of-"

"Mister Marcus," Ares said as a greeting when he popped in, almost giving a heart attack to three-quarters of the room. "Here is everything on Jennifer Sagrav," he said, handing the young man a thick folder. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have training waiting for me."

With those words, the elf left the room with a pop. Moody stared at Marcus, dumbfounded, and the other Auror was not in a better state, though the woman paled even more, if that was possible. The undersecretary opened the folder and skimmed over it for a minute before handing it to the Head of the DMLE.

"Jennifer Sagrav, thirty-five years old. Sorted into Hufflepuff during Hogwarts and graduated in 1976 with above-average grades. Overall, a promising individual," Marcus mused out loud and the alluded woman tensed. "Julia Sagrav, older sister, thirty-eight years old. Sorted into Gryffindor and graduated in 1973 with average grades, but a recommendation to become a healer. Apprenticed under the Head of Saint Horan Hospital in Ireland, is currently working there as a healer and is a candidate to replace the current Head... From what I can see, her bank account is much more stable than yours, not to mention that her saving surpasses yours by a wide margin. That's not the profile of a gambler," Marcus commented.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jennifer spat, clenching her teeth.

"Do you want me to name the - how can I say this - less than reputable people that you owe money to? Ah, that's not all. You also happen to be a regular patron at the 'Broken Wand' and 'Cursed Cavern', among others. What can you tell us about this?"

"It's my private life and I can do what I want. We're here because of the investigation regarding the Tournament, not my personal activities," the woman murmured, taking rapid breaths.

"You're right," Moody acknowledged, "Warrens!" The Auror approached the woman and forced her to take the prescribed amount of the potion.

"The accused proved to be less than cooperative in the interrogation. As the contract with the judges dictates, she was forced to take Veritaserum as a last resort. Auror Warrens administered the potion. The cork has the official certification seal P-56 and is labelled as vial number 136," Marcus sighed as he signalled Moody to begin.

"How do you plead to the charges issued against you?"

"Guilty," was the woman's vacant response.

"To how many people did you sell information?"

"Two."

"Who were they?" Marcus asked with a sigh. Veritaserum was an effective potion, but one needed to be quite specific while asking something or he would receive no answer.

"Olympe Maxime and Alex Dumont."

"Tell us about the latter."

"He's attractive and rich."

"Anything else?"

"That's all I know."

"Describe his features," Moody grunted in obvious frustration.

"I don't remember," the woman answered and Marcus frowned.

"Describe your conversations," the young man ordered.

"I don't remember."

"A confundus charm was used on her, along with memory and compulsion charms," the undersecretary muttered as he cast a few diagnosis charms. "We'll need a mind healer, I don't have a good feeling about this."

"Me neither," Alastor agreed with a grunt. "Warrens, get a team of Aurors to join Sterling and another team to retrieve the Sagravs."

"Yes sir," the man agreed and left in hurried steps.

"What is it that you remember about Alex Dumont?" asked a weary Marcus.

"A birthmark... He has a curious birthmark on his left forearm."