![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Order Only: Interrogating Ellie Summer
May. 15th, 2012 09:33 pmI dropped by Laszlo's at midafternoon today, and frowning in my very best obnoxiously officious Ministry manner, I proclaimed loudly that I was there to interview the mudblood Ellie Summer, to determine how she was settling in. (Thank you, Remus, for not laughing. Very heroic of you; I'm sure it must have been difficult.) Tonks ushered us to the small back office and snapped her fingers to coax 'Sinbad' to leave, but he just cocked his head and gave her a look of total doggie incomprehension. Bea obligingly set up a convincing wail right at that moment (wonderful timing; I suspect that Remus stuck a pin in her) and so I waved Tonks off irritably, saying that I supposed the hound could stay. And so Sirius sat in on the meeting too, curled up at Ellie's feet, just as we hoped.
I started out with the sorts of intake questions she has been forced to answer for years: name, place of birth, age her magic first manifested, date of her removal to 'proper' Ministry custody, age of first menses, what was known concerning her family history, confirmation that she has not had any contact with them, etcetera. I had brought along as props my briefcase stuffed with parchments, a clipboard, and one of the more intimidating department forms to fill out. That allowed me to play on her nerves a bit by taking long pauses to make reams of incomprehensible notes in indecipherable shorthand (it's actually a form used to requisition workers by blood type for various assignments, but Ellie naturally didn't need to know that). The give and take of familiar questions seem to steady her somewhat, although I noticed that when I took particularly long pauses she reached out absently to stroke Sirius's ears. At which point I was hard put not to laugh myself.
I then asked her about her present assignment, doing my best to make the questions as insulting and condescending as possible. ('How long after your masters eat are you permitted to eat? Is the food they give you spoiled in any way? Are you allowed blankets for sleeping? Have you acquired any infestations of lice or other vermin since your work assignment began? Where do you toilet? You DO? They actually allow you to share the family's facilities rather than use a chamber pot? Hmm' [a stern look and more copious notes]. 'Have you ever soiled your sleeping quarters at night before they unlock it in the morning? You haven't? My goodness, you're quite well-trained then, aren't you?') She merely blinked at every question, no matter how impertinent, and answered each in the mildest possible voice.
I turned a page over on the form, looked down my nose at her, and asked her to tell me about Mr and Mrs Ponds. What was her impression of them?
She stared off into space for a long moment, and her expression changed not a jot, but I noted her fingers tightening a bit on Sirius's collar. She muttered something about how of course it's not her place to judge her betters. 'Yes, yes,' I said impatiently, 'but the Ministry prides itself on making the best possible placement for all Mudbloods placed within its custody, and so we must take your impressions into account of course. How else can we learn whether your masters were the right sort or not? The Protectorate naturally must make use of every pair of eyes and ears, even the most insignificant, to monitor what happens within its borders.' I let the pause spin out even longer until she licked her lips, looked down at her feet and mumbled that she was sure that Mr and Mrs Ponds must be the right sort, because Mrs Ponds beat her when she broke a glass, so she knew that they wouldn't stand for any stupid mudblood nonsense.
It's a good thing she wasn't looking at me right then, because I'm afraid my face would have scared her. Fortunately, Sirius grabbed her attention at that point by suddenly sitting up and starting to lick her hands. (Good save, Sirius). When I had regained control of my expression, I probed a bit more, but she adamantly resisted all my lures to be a talebearer. Mr and Mrs Ponds were model citizens, she was sure, 'quite strict, really.' I asked her whether they have put her in charge of Bea, and she said no, because of course she has to prove herself trustworthy first.
So, anyway, that's what I gleaned from our meeting. She showed some 'tells' of nerves, which would probably be apparent to an experienced interrogator, but despite significant pressure from me she stuck to her story in the most inoffensive way and defended you.
Sirius, can you add anything more?
I started out with the sorts of intake questions she has been forced to answer for years: name, place of birth, age her magic first manifested, date of her removal to 'proper' Ministry custody, age of first menses, what was known concerning her family history, confirmation that she has not had any contact with them, etcetera. I had brought along as props my briefcase stuffed with parchments, a clipboard, and one of the more intimidating department forms to fill out. That allowed me to play on her nerves a bit by taking long pauses to make reams of incomprehensible notes in indecipherable shorthand (it's actually a form used to requisition workers by blood type for various assignments, but Ellie naturally didn't need to know that). The give and take of familiar questions seem to steady her somewhat, although I noticed that when I took particularly long pauses she reached out absently to stroke Sirius's ears. At which point I was hard put not to laugh myself.
I then asked her about her present assignment, doing my best to make the questions as insulting and condescending as possible. ('How long after your masters eat are you permitted to eat? Is the food they give you spoiled in any way? Are you allowed blankets for sleeping? Have you acquired any infestations of lice or other vermin since your work assignment began? Where do you toilet? You DO? They actually allow you to share the family's facilities rather than use a chamber pot? Hmm' [a stern look and more copious notes]. 'Have you ever soiled your sleeping quarters at night before they unlock it in the morning? You haven't? My goodness, you're quite well-trained then, aren't you?') She merely blinked at every question, no matter how impertinent, and answered each in the mildest possible voice.
I turned a page over on the form, looked down my nose at her, and asked her to tell me about Mr and Mrs Ponds. What was her impression of them?
She stared off into space for a long moment, and her expression changed not a jot, but I noted her fingers tightening a bit on Sirius's collar. She muttered something about how of course it's not her place to judge her betters. 'Yes, yes,' I said impatiently, 'but the Ministry prides itself on making the best possible placement for all Mudbloods placed within its custody, and so we must take your impressions into account of course. How else can we learn whether your masters were the right sort or not? The Protectorate naturally must make use of every pair of eyes and ears, even the most insignificant, to monitor what happens within its borders.' I let the pause spin out even longer until she licked her lips, looked down at her feet and mumbled that she was sure that Mr and Mrs Ponds must be the right sort, because Mrs Ponds beat her when she broke a glass, so she knew that they wouldn't stand for any stupid mudblood nonsense.
It's a good thing she wasn't looking at me right then, because I'm afraid my face would have scared her. Fortunately, Sirius grabbed her attention at that point by suddenly sitting up and starting to lick her hands. (Good save, Sirius). When I had regained control of my expression, I probed a bit more, but she adamantly resisted all my lures to be a talebearer. Mr and Mrs Ponds were model citizens, she was sure, 'quite strict, really.' I asked her whether they have put her in charge of Bea, and she said no, because of course she has to prove herself trustworthy first.
So, anyway, that's what I gleaned from our meeting. She showed some 'tells' of nerves, which would probably be apparent to an experienced interrogator, but despite significant pressure from me she stuck to her story in the most inoffensive way and defended you.
Sirius, can you add anything more?