RP: There are days when all she is WHO: Tracey Davis, Callen MacDougal. WHERE: The MLE WHEN: February 28, 2000 WHAT: Tracey gets called into help the MLE and someone is a bit too observant for her own good. INCOMPLETE
Tracey had answered the summons of the Department of Mysteries and had been handed an oversized cloak and a necklace that cast a glamour to make her look like the most common, most forgetible witch in Britain. She really hated that thing as it meant she was going to end up helping the MLE with some problem beyond their feeble cop minds. Sticking their noses in where they didn't belong.
As she swung the cloak over her shoulders, she closed her eyes and forced herself to shove those thoughts and attitudes to the very back of mind. She wasn't a child stealing to impress her older cousin and his friends. She was a wardsmith apprentice. She was an Unspeakable. While she wasn't at all respectable, she was lawful, mostly.
The Auror department was a buzz with she knew not what. She just concentrated on not rolling her eyes and following the intern who'd come to fetch her to one of the rooms normally used for interrogation. There were several auror-types in the room, but she ignored them to focus on the ornate box in the middle of the otherwise empty table. The sooner she was done with this, the sooner she could leave the Ministry and finish up the work that was alloted her back Mulciber's Wards. If she was lucky, she'd be in bed before midnight at this rate.
Around and around the table she walked, casting diagnostic spells and minor unlocking spells before she settled in to slowly unraveling the mostly Dark Arts wards protecting the thing. Her wand was in constant, graceful motion and her body language echoed it as she teased and flirted with the dark magic to coax it to yield to her advances.