Artemius had to admit, he was rather surprised how fast they got back to him, but he didn't complain: he needed a job. He'd always heard that security was a good job to apply for, because everyone wanted someone to keep their private things private, and their secured places secured. There was no interview, but apparently there had been a good amount of research done. Willoughby knew he had the job before Artemius had even mentioned applying to it.

"So! Our young Artemius Baxby is joining he Ministry's working force! You've got a security job, I hear!" His big grin was undeniably infectious, and his floo call a pleasant surprise. "I'm surprised you didn't try out for Regulation or Beast Division, dear boy. I thought your father taught you to aim a bit higher than that?" Artemius knew he meant it as a joke, but he was instantly grateful his mother had already left for a shift at St. Mungo's.

"I'm not trying to press my luck," he answered, trying to keep a smirk on his face. Artemius knew he hadn't applied to the Unspeakables, but boy, word got around. Was a security guard that important?

"Ah, with your experience you'd be one hell of a wolf catcher, me boy. You know how the beasties think!"

His grin was increasingly hard to keep. "Well, a job's a job," Artemius replied. "As it is, I have a few chores to do, but it was lovely talking to you." As to whether or not he really had the job yet, he wasn't sure, but Willoughby was not prided in his discretion or his couth. Still, he'd been a long time business associate of the family: the pencil pusher who sent a new patient the way of Baxby Cottage when one had moved on. Artemius' father had normally been the one to deal with him, and it was one of his more unpleasant inheritances.

"Alright, me boy. I see you're busy. Do send your mother my love." He pulled himself away and Artemius watched the green fire vanish.

Artemius sighed. That horrible man was exactly why he didn't want a genuine Ministry job. He didn't think he could stand it if he had to work with the likes of Willoughby or -- he shuddered to think -- Dolores Umbridge. He'd rather live off of Wolfsbane Potion for the rest of his life.

At the thought, he wondered what precisely the longterm effects of Wolfsbane would be on someone who wasn't a lycanthrope...? He made a note to ask his mother when she got home that night; although, knowing the short term, there probably wouldn't be much of a long term...

The next morning, Artemius had an owled letter inviting him to come down for registration and then things began to move a bit more. He started out in a collection of paperwork, and then a short tutelage under a snappish wizard by the name of "Patrick Hinder", who seemed to be very knowledgeable about the building: you could ask him where anything was, and after a roll of his eyes, he would give you a rehearsed set of directions that would lead you to the door of your request.

"It's all a matter of keeping it, up here," he once said with smug pride. "Not everybody has what it takes." He gave an important sniff and carried on with the lesson.

A week later, Artemius found himself being handed a radio and a pass.

"Alright, boyo. We're going to start you off slow," Hinder had said, moving ahead, leaving Artemius to quickly follow behind, trying to attach the radio to his belt. "You're going to watch this door. No one goes in without this pass," he explained, waving a green pass identical to the one he'd given Artemius. "We have a crew of folks coming in for a presentation today, but until three only green badges. After they're done setting things up, lots of offical types. They need silver badges. You're gonna see some important faces -- just don't let it get to your head, boy." At this he turned and gave Artemius an evil eye, resulting in the boy coming to an awkward halt as he tried to catch everything his superiour was saying. "No autographs, no small talk, no interviews. Check the badge, and let them in." He thrust a finger into his face, and Artemius eyed it warily. "I find out you let anyone unauthorised in, it'll be your badge, boy."

Artemius gulped. "Yes, sir."

He gave a curt nod, and then continued down the hallway. They met up with a sleepy looking blonde, wearing the same simple uniform as they were. On seeing Hinder, she straightened and lost all of her sleepiness. "Reporting for duty, sir!" she said with a salute.

"At ease," he replied with a pleased smile. "Baxby here is going to relieve you. I've given him the rundown, but you can give him the particulars." He looked down at his time piece. "You have two and a half minutes of watch left, and then Baxby. After that, you are dismissed."

"Thank you, sir," she sighed, a soft smile on her face. She watched Hinder march off and then slumped back into her previous posture.

"You a new guy?" she asked, all professionalism gone.

"Yeah. Artemius Baxby," he replied, holding out a hand. She shook it.

"Welcome. I hear after about a month, we get to do stuff outside of Hinder's nose, but I kept coming in late, so... I'm stuck here for a little longer.

Artemius made a note to himself to stay punctual. "So, checking badges."

"Yeah, pretty much. Occasionally, you get wanderers -- just give them directions to the Atrium -- essentially, point them back the way they came; the lift does the rest. As for the badges, you only really have to worry about the green ones. Some of the stuff in here is classified informaiton -- it's an auror presentation. The ones presenting are going through paperwork and sorting out what's need-to-know and what's not, so they can present accordingly. You gotta make sure no one gets in that doesn't need to be. After that, it's just the others coming in to the meeting -- and you will see people who are famous. Just treat them like a normal witch or wizard -- that's all they are. They are just like us. Only, you know, they get paid to kill people." She gave a great laugh at that, and Artemius managed a weak grin. "All in all, it's easy money. Guard the door, check the badge. As for chitchat, most of these types are extremely busy and will have badges ready. Others like to sit and talk a bit. I say, go for it -- otherwise it's hella boring. Just end the conversation promptly should Hinder show up. Otherwise, have fun, yeah?"

"Will do. Thanks." She smiled and gave him a nod. She gathered her bag -- Artemius spotted a pair of knitting needles peeking out -- and disappeared down the hallway.

Artemius took position, fidgeting with the radio -- he turned on, and spoke into it. "Radio check." "It's a radio," came the bored reply -- and leaned against the wall, hopefully ready for a day of this.

"I have too many bad habits," observed Ivy after simultaneously tossing her hair, twirling her wand, and waving casually at a secretary she was friends with, which resulted in her being awkwardly sprawled on the floor, her wand laying on a pile of papers three desks away and her hair all over her face. But she was better off than the person she had run into, who looked as if they were drowning in Robardsment (her new word for any piece of parchment Sofia Robards was responsible for). "Damnit. So sorry, let me help you," she said to the frightened, legality-covered intern, who wore a badge that said SUPPORT THE BHL.

She retrieved her wand and gave a quick flick to restore the mountain of papers to the young wizards's arms. Following up with a sassy pat on his bum, she continued on her way, whistling to herself.

Ivy was happy.

Although Will was gone from the department now, and Robards had even more control, she was experiencing a marvelous renaissance in her personal life that resulted in happy repercussions in her work. Kendra got better every day. A persistently weak grasp of English and basic social skills meant that she required lots of company and tutoring, both of which the mother was happy to provide. And Jayden visited frequently. And Lucy was expecting a baby. There were too many happy tidings to bring her down, even her increasingly hellish job which was only made bearable by particular individuals.

She had a little bit of time before a meeting, and rather than spend it trapped in her office under the watchful six eyes of Robards, Ivy was going to take a stroll through the ministry corridors and see what trouble she could get into.

It didn't take her long to find a suitable target. Down a maze of hallways that distanced herself from L2, in an area that was used primarily for high-security meetings, there was a security guard she didn't recognize. She meandered up to him, gave him the charming Ballantine grin, and asked, "Bloody hell, what is that?" She pointed to the crackling radio on his belt. "How does it work?"

Being up this early in the morning was something Artemius had trained himself out of after Hogwarts. In fact, the Cottage was a huge advocate of sleeping in, particularly after a long night of observation and caring for the lycanthropic denizens on the full moon. Still, the money was... well, it was money. And easy money. It was a good two and a half hours into watch, and it was true as the previous guard had said -- it was hella boring. He considered finding some kind of craft he could do to keep his hands and mind occupied that wouldn't be too distracting that he couldn't do his job... Maybe he'd have to buy a book of puzzles or something. Maybe not like on the Daily Prophet, though -- those 3D ones were tough. Might be more of a frustration than a hobby. Sudoku was fun, though...

As it is, he had neither, so Artemius was trying his best not to nod off, but nodding, he was doing. So far only two secretaries had come by -- both of them flashing their badges and quickly coming and going -- and no one to talk to. Stifling a yawn, Artemius leaned himself against the corner made by the doorpost and the wall. It was uncomfortable and held him -- should help keep him awake...

But still, he nodded. The entire hallway was deserted, and the minutes seemed to just drip by...

It wasn't until almost eight that someone else actually stepped into the hall again. Artemius jumped slightly at the sound, then straightened himself, giving a quick yawn, and readied himself, should it be Hinder. Upon actually taking a moment to listen, however, he realised he heard high heeled shoes -- another secretary perhaps? He blearily looked about for his objective to approach.

It was a witch -- she looked vaguely familiar, but then, Artemius read the Daily Prophet. Still, he couldn't think of her name, so she obviously wasn't a politician. She gave him a big grin as she approached him, and Artemius wondered if there might be some intelligent conversation coming to save him from his presently dreary and monotonous existence.

"Bloody hell, what is that?"

Artemius blinked, having never heard that as a greeting before, but as a lead to a prank, many times. Arrie would never drop something that was proven to work. The connotation with the remark was a glare, but this one was more tired than annoyed, given his present status. The fact that this wasn't Aronel and that she could, in fact, just be curious made him soften his gaze -- but it was still a rude greeting.

"What is what?" he asked, trying to keep the boredom from his voice -- it didn't work very well. Sure enough, she pointed to the magicked radio at his belt.

"How does it work?"

Artemius frowned. Well, he'd hoped for intelligent conversation. He wondered if perhaps she was just very bad at making new friends, and couldn't think of a better ice breaker. It was a better hope than that she was a ditzy blonde. Then again, he had to remember. Some of these folks were Purebloods and were absolutely clueless and bedazzled by Muggle things. Again, he tried to compose himself.

"It's a radio," he answered. "It's a Muggle thing -- kind of like a two-way mirror, but purely auditory." He tried to hide a smirk as the question of whether that was too big a word for her or not. That was mean. They'd only just met. "Also, it's connected to more than one companion, and every guard has one. It's so we can communicate should there be trouble." He felt a little smug knowing something she didn't. Being stuck watching an eventless door all day was doing strange things to his tolerance levels.

"Are you going in?" he added -- he was here for a job, anyway -- thumbing at the door he was watching. "If you are, I need to see your green pass."

A frown. She wasn't a fan of frowns. She would take any variation of smiles or expressions of shock, but not a hint of boredom or unhappiness. There was nothing appealing about negativity, especially to one who had managed to beat back the monster of depression after the worst and could still pull off a smile. Anything but the greatest positivity showed a weakness of character.

Besides, the muggle thing was strange.

"It's a radio. It's a Muggle thing -- kind of like a two-way mirror, but purely auditory."

Ivy laughed and nodded. A familiar sparkle was creeping into her eyes and smile, which disappeared as a more serious expression replaced her happy laugh.

"Yeah, I figured that much, but how does it work here? Another Level 9 spell I imagine, if they can pluck out your soul they can probably charm a bloody muggle radio. All the same, I didn't think they would use them anymore, not after the incident from last time..."

"Are you going in? If you are, I need to see your green pass."

She pulled out a large, well-worn red leather wallet from her robes and flipped it open, revealing close to a dozen Irish and English Ministry cards and certifications. Her pass to enter the ministry was at the top, passes in shades from spring green to red to silver in the middle, and at the very bottom, a black card that had a slight shimmer to it, like the inside of a seashell or onyx, with a few words printed on it in white. Her license to kill; it was a prized possession.

"Ivy Ballantine, how d'ye do. I'm here for the meeting. It's better to wait here than endure the gossip in the office. 'Oh, I wonder if Minister Channing will be present with his boyfriend?' 'Do you think we'll be getting new assignments, is someone else going to the Potter case?' 'Should I wear my hair back or down?' 'Knowing the Ministry they won't provide a drop of tea for us even if it lasts for twenty hours like the last meeting.' On and on! I do enjoy some of the secretaries, but bloody Maeve, sometimes they're awful!"

She made a slight motion with her wrist and the cards flipped back up into the wallet automagically and she tucked it away. The Irishwoman held out her hand for him to shake. "I don't believe we've met before. You must be new."

She pulled out a huge wallet that had more badges than Artemius recognised -- although the few that he did made his eyes widen with newly found respect. Not a ditzy blonde. Maybe bad at greetings, but also legally licensed to kill. Uber polite smile was remembered. Right. Job. Ministry folks. Aurors. People who killed people. Better than a cold pot of espresso, Artemius found himself immediately awake and aware.

"Ivy Ballantine, how d'ye do."

Artemius gave a shy grimace that he hoped was smileish enough for her liking. She could kill him if it wasn't. "So sorry, Ms. Ballantine." Yeah, he knew that name. She had a good number of kills under her belt. "You're free to go."

As it was, apparently she decided that she didn't quite want to go in.

"Although, it's much better to wait here than endure the gossip in the office. 'Oh, I wonder if Minister Channing will be present with his boyfriend?' 'Do you think we'll be getting new assignments, is someone else going to the Potter case?' 'Should I wear my hair back or down?' 'Knowing the Ministry they won't provide a drop of tea for us even if it lasts for twenty hours like the last meeting.' On and on! I do enjoy some of the secretaries, but bloody Maeve, sometimes they're awful!"

Artemius tried to make his smile more genuine. "Yeah? Well, I think I'd take bad gossip over the absolutely droning silence of standing at a door all day. I feel like I'm losing IQ points." And he was going to say absolutely nothing about the Minister having a boyfriend. That was WAY more information than he really wanted to know.

She deposited her wallet back in her person, flashed him a smile, and then held out a hand.

"I don't believe we've met before. You must be new."

Again, didn't ask his name. No, he wasn't off -- her manners were. Mind, he was raised very old fashioned, but his feathers were still a bit ruffled, and he found himself still a little offended. Still -- black badge. He gave her a smile in return. "Artemius Baxby. First day out of orientation, after all." He had to keep himself from saying "babysitting" -- Hinder treated them all like children, which was comforting on the rare instances where he was ignorant, but made him feel like a dolt for having to go through the obvious things. Still -- procedure. "Sorry for any trouble -- I'm just trying to do my job." He gave a hopeful grin. Don't kill me, please, Auror lady? he thought to himself.

"So sorry, Ms. Ballantine. You're free to go."

Ivy had never considered herself a proud or snobby person--her lifestyle rarely gave her the time for such luxuries--but at these words she nearly snorted.

"Thank ye for sparing me," she replied, a corner of her mouth twisted up into an ironic expression. She imagined what a fight between the two of them would be like; he appeared to be healthy and strong and only a few years younger than herself, but he had the look of someone untested. Score: Irish 1, England 0. Poor man will have tests enough in the coming weeks. There's no one left to protect the people.

"Artemius Baxby. First day out of orientation, after all. Sorry for any trouble -- I'm just trying to do my job."

She looked up at him and gave him a reassuring smile in response to his. Bloody Maeve, Ivy hated having to look up to half the people she met! What the hell where wizards drinking that made them grow as tall as trees?

"You're ahead of half the ministry then, Artie. Gummy dragon?" She offered him a pack of Extra Hot! Weasly Endless Chewing Gum (Guaranteed to Spice Up Your Breath and Ward Off Cold Conversations with Coworkers!). The inch long dragon perked up in her hand and blew a tiny flame in Artie's direction, flapping its wings uselessly. She leaned against the wall and crossed her ankles comfortably, biting the head off of a dragon before she put the whole thing in her mouth. Her eyes squinted up.

"Ach! That's hot!"

Then she laughed, shook her head and tossed her wild dark hair out of her face, and grew accustomed to the heat. Holly would have loved these.

The thought didn't make her upset as it would have in the past. That pain dulled a little more each day. But the healing took such a long time, all the same.

"I had a friend at school that would have been able to chew a whole box of these without flinching," she commented as she wiped heat-generated tears out of her eyes. "Some people get all the skills, eh?"

A pause.

"So how did you end up here straight out of orientation? There haven't been more disappearances, have there?"

"Thank ye for sparing me," she replied.

He was pretty sure he noticed an Irish lilt in there, and felt a smile tug at his lips. Even if she was rude... it reminded him of his father.

"You're ahead of half the ministry then, Artie. Gummy dragon?" She offered him a pack of Extra Hot! Weasley's Endless Chewing Gum (Guaranteed to Spice Up Your Breath and Ward Off Cold Conversations with Coworkers!). The inch long dragon perked up in her hand and blew a tiny flame in Artie's direction, flapping its wings uselessly.

"Erm... No thank you. I'll stick with my cockroach clusters, but I appreciate the offer."

She leaned against the wall and crossed her ankles comfortably, biting the head off of a dragon before she put the whole thing in her mouth. Her eyes squinted up.

"Ach! That's hot!"

He grimaced, and bit back an I could have told you that.

Then she laughed, shaking her head, and tossing about her hair. She just seemed so... untamed. It was kind of unnerving him.

"I had a friend at school that would have been able to chew a whole box of these without flinching," she commented as she wiped heat-generated tears out of her eyes. "Some people get all the skills, eh?"

"I suppose," he replied timidly. Black card or not, even under normal circumstances, he was fairly certain he would avoid this woman. She was just... off.

"So how did you end up here straight out of orientation? There haven't been more disappearances, have there?"

Artemius shrugged. "I honestly have no clue. This was just my assignment. Mind, there simply aren't a lot of Security guards -- maybe they're shorthanded. And I have a very clean record, so they probably think I'm not a risk." Meaning: I'm not a Dark Wizard, please don't hex me... He had the uncontrollable desire to simply leave, and get as far away from her as possible, but he was stuck at his post. He did, however, cross his arms and hold himself close. She was really unnerving him... And he couldn't put his finger on why.