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THE INTERNATIONAL STATUTE OF TRANSPARENCY

"On this day, the thirteenth of June of the year two thousand and thirty four, in the spirit of honesty, safety and the equality of all mankind, the magical population and the non-magical population will no longer remain hidden from one another, but will be unified as one. Rather than withholding from one another, we today take a step toward a better future, as the union of two such extraordinary cultures and resources promises a betterment in quality of life for all. This statute applies to every living being that is capable of thinking and reasoning for itself. Either Discrimination or Deceptiveness in respect to the statute are both considered the highest form of noncompliance in all countries involved, and are punishable as treason. Every world leader, both magical and non-magical, have signed this statute in agreement that Transparency between the respective communities of the world is the best path toward knowledge and peace."
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Born: 13 December 1993
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Alias: Vilde
Character Age: 39
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Blood Status: Pureblood
Application Link: http://ltm.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=63
Plotter link: http://ltm.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=90
Lyrics/Quote: from my hands you know you'll never be more than twist in my sobriety
Special Abilities/Race: Parseltongue
Biography: Mordred is a blunt character who can read your emotions like a nerd reads a book. He works in the ministry, and he loves all the research he gets to do, all the experiments that would otherwise have been illegal. He will not be your friend, but if you prove some sort of self-dignity he won't make you his enemy either.
Relationship Status: Single
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Joined: 31-May 16
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Last Seen: Dec 27 2016, 09:45 AM
Local Time: Aug 16 2017, 07:14 PM
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Mordred Gaunt

Ministry

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Jun 8 2016, 01:45 PM
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<div class="jlyingona2"> camille. hope you enjoy! </div>

<div class="jfakebeach1"> a seven nation army couldn’t hold me </div> <div class="jfakebeach2"> back </div></div>

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After the Statute of Transparency had passed, Mordred's job had gotten ever more complicated. Now, there were not only wizards, trying to pry the secrets from his department away, no, now there were bloody muggles trying to learn more, and every time Mordred told them that he was not allowed to share information with anyone, they tried to use the statute against him. In the start he'd politely -as politely as possible from him- tell them to take it up with the Minister for Magic, but as time went by and more and more people bugged him about the department, he grew more and more snarky. He looked up at the veil he was standing in front of, his eyes scanning every inch of it. There wasn't much to see. There was an archway, and the shimmering of the atmosphere between it. But there was much it could do.<p>As Mordred felt his eyes twitch and itch, he realised that he'd been standing there for half an hour. He'd been working since 7am that morning, having left early, earlier than Morgana, and now it was well past 3pm. It was time for a cup of coffee. Otherwise, there'd be a danger of him going to close to the veil. So he turned his back to the room and entered through the room of thoughts before leaving the department through the room with the many doors. His thoughts remained with the veil as he made his way to the atrium. Back when they had first experimented with it, three people had fallen through and never come back. The feel of death in that room had always been overpowering, and it made Mordred feel small. Well, smaller than usual, which was probably more confident than most people still. But these were one of the things that could not be disputed in his work; the insane experiments, the non-stifling thirst to know more. Mordred didn't think he could have a better job.<p>The way to the atrium was known like the back of his hand at that point. Now, Mordred might've simply made a cup in his office, but the coffee he made was nothing like what the Atrium's café could offer. And coffee was one of his favourite things in the world, so he'd be damned sure it wasn't wasted. He didn't even have to order it before the barista gave a known nod and turned to the coffeemaker to make his normal black filter coffee. As always, the barista would expect his thanks, and as always, he'd disappoint. However, the woman had yet to give up on getting on his good graces, and Mordred had to admit he did admire her relentlessness. He sat down at one of the tables, looking around the atrium. So many people were bustling about. It was interesting to watch their faces. There was a woman going through a divorce. Another who had gotten engaged last night. A man who would miss his deadline. Mordred felt the right side of his lip twitch upwards. Ah, this was the kind of break Mordred enjoyed.


<p><div style="font-size: 20px; text-align: right; line-height: 100%;"><a href="http://cttw.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=6">•</a> <a href="http://z10.invisionfree.com/Shadowplay/index.php?showuser=4829">•</a> <a href="http://wecode.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=268">•</a></div></div></div></div> </center>[/dohtml]
Jun 8 2016, 10:26 AM
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<div class="name-short">mordred gaunt</div>
<div class="multi-txt"><i><hr><center>pureblood. thirty nine. parseltongue.</center><hr></i>

<div class="letter-1">m</div>ordred gaunt is not the friendliest man you will meet. He was born in Winchester in England to a caring mother, but their family was never based on what most people see as family. His mother wouldn't lay down rules, she wouldn't ground him for doing unseemly things. Mostly because they weren't unseemly to her. He grew up, never learning that he needed to behave around other people. He grew up saying exactly what he thought of people.<p><div class="letter-1">d</div>ue to their family name, Mordred often found people looking at him funny. Being born in 1996 made sure that he'd not live in the days when people moved away from thinking of the Gaunt name as anything more than a psychopathic and wretched name. People would sneer at him, and when he was sorted into Slytherin, people outside of his house never gave him their time of day. Not that this meant much to Mordred, he disliked most of them anyway. He stayed away from his housemates as well, feeling they were much too boring for his own liking.<p><div class="letter-1">a</div>fter Hogwarts, it was hard for him to find a job. He'd had to take a few muggle jobs. This problem had not much to do with his magical heritage, but more with his personality. He didn't find a place before he found a job at the ministry as an Unspeakable. No one cared about his personality there, no one cared about his heritage. And he got to research things he'd always dreamt to research. Eventually he was promoted to the head of the department. This is the job he has to this day.
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<div class="multi-txt"><i><hr><center>head of the department of mysteries.</center><hr></i>

<div class="letter-1">w</div>hen it comes to friends, Mordred doesn't have that many. To be his friend, you'd have to prove yourself to be a respectable person with something between your ears. But Mordred isn't really looking for friends. He meaning I would love to have someone he could discuss things with. The possibility that he'd be fairly kind towards people around his own department wouldn't be a stretch.<p><div class="letter-1">t</div>he picture to the left is the extent of how friendly Mordred will ever look. Unless you're Morgana, which you're not. because I am. Basically, what I'm looking for here, is the occasional random thread, unless you have a character older than 27, in which case, it might be more regular.


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<div class="multi-txt"><i><hr><center>benedict cumberbatch.</center><hr></i>

<div class="letter-1">n</div>ow we're getting to the good stuff. Mordred is not a friendly person. He'd have tons of people who dislike him due to his bluntness. As he somehow seems to know everyone's secrets as well, it isn't hard to imagine people who would avoid him. And here is the plottwist: when Mordred knows that people dislike him, he will talk to them as if there was no tomorrow, just to get a kick out of their misery.<p><div class="letter-1">i</div> would love to have a person who either dislikes him sourly, or finds him very intimidating, so that Mordred can have his morbid fun. Of course, the chances that the people are half his age, makes it all the more interesting.

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<div class="multi-txt"><i><hr><center>"boring"</center><hr></i>

<div class="letter-1">t</div>he word 'love' is foreign to Mordred. He loves his daughter, he loved his mother. He didn't love Morgana's mother, he doesn't love her parents. When a beautiful man or woman passes him in the streets, Mordred is completely and utterly ignorant. He could not care less about love and finds it, yes, you guessed it, boring.<p><div class="letter-1">s</div>o, I'll leave this here blank, because I'm not looking for someone who'd be infatuated with Mordred, or for someone he could be infatuated with. If there were characters around his age, he might've been proven wrong. But alas.


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<div class="miricredit"><a href="http://cttw.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=7588">window blues</a></div></center>

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May 31 2016, 08:00 AM
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<div style="text-align: left; font-size: 35px; line-height: 100%; letter-spacing: -5px; border-bottom: 1px solid rgba(0,0,0,0.7); margin-bottom: 2px;">MORDRED M. GAUNT</div>

<div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 10px; line-height: 100%; border-bottom: 1px solid rgba(0,0,0,0.7); margin-bottom: 5px; text-indent: 30px;">
39. PUREBLOOD. HEAD OF DEPT. OF MYSTERIES. BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH.</div>

<img src="https://petitsfilmsentreamisdotnet.files.wordpress.com/2014/07/4-benedict-cumberbatch-optimisation-google-image-wordpress.jpg"><br><br>

<div style="text-align: left; font-size: 25px; line-height: 100%; letter-spacing: -3px; border-bottom: 1px solid rgba(0,0,0,0.7); margin-bottom: 2px;">Interview with Mordred Gaunt</div>

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I walked up the streets of Whitehall, finding my way to the phone booth that hosted the guest entrance hall to the Ministry of Magic. All the questions I wanted to ask were in the forefront of my brain, and I tried to not lose any of them. of course, I had them all written down on my notepad, but I didn't know how a notepad would be perceived by a person of the wizarding community. It was quite intimidating, but when I reached the phone booth, I felt myself calm down considerably. I had been in the ministry before, so when the bottom of the phone booth sank underneath me, I wasn't as surprised as I was the previous times, though my amazement at the atrium unfolding in front of me was still as prominent as the first time. There were so many witches and wizards milling about, probably either going somewhere for their lunch break, or coming back from it. To think they had been so well hidden. Right underneath our noses.<br><br>The man I was meeting had been described as slightly intimidating, and it did make it slightly more nerve-wrecking. Especially the questions. Now, I'm actually a very good interviewer, but this was different. My knowledge about the magical world was restricted, to say the least, but I was familiar with the Ministry of Magic and their departments. I understood the departments. Except this one. Of course, it seemed I wasn't alone in not understanding the Department of Mysteries. Even aurors do not know what goes on in the department. So I requested an interview with the head of the department. And I was told to meet him in the Atrium's café. I made my way there and looked at the decently sized and packed café. How would I even find this man? I did not know what he looked like.<br><br>"I believe you're looking for me." The deep voice completely caught me off guard, as I turned to my right and saw a man sitting at a small table, not even looking at me, as he took a sip of his coffee, reading the paper in front of him. After a moment of silence, he looked sideways over at me, his eyes drilling into my own. I was surprised at the intensity and had to blink a few times to regain my brainpower. His slender hands started folding the paper and he put it down on the table, his eyes never leaving me, though mine own were studying him thoroughly.<br><br>Mordred Gaunt was, at first eyesight, a peculiar looking man. I would neither say handsome nor unflattering. Just, unusual. But at second inspection, it was clear to me that he was a force to be reckoned with. His face grew more and more powerful, his eyes were a pale green that made him look like he'd seen it all. He saw everything. His expression told me he was not easily amused, and that he held no expectation of me. He was wearing an attire that I had become familiar with through the wizarding community. I believe they simply call them 'robes'. And then there was something in his eyes, something that lasted a mere second, but I am certain I caught it. Boredom. It threw me off again, but I tried to get myself back in the business side of things. <br><br>"Mordred Gaunt?" I asked. He didn't confirm or deny it, so I walked closer and stopped nearer him. He looked up at me with a look I've never seen before, almost empty, but so full of thoughts. I extended my arm. "I'm James Scott, journalist of the Guardian. May I?" I asked, keeping it polite, hinting at the chair. Mr. Gaunt still didn't respond to anything, but I figured it meant he didn't mind my seating. How could he? I had scheduled the meeting. So I sat down and opened my briefcase slightly, getting out my notepad and my pen. I had asked to bring my computer, but apparently all the magic within the ministry would break it. I didn't actually believe that, but who was I to judge. My attention returned to Mr. Gaunt after I put down my briefcase and I was about to ask him some casual questions when it hit me; this man did not engage in chitchat. So I cleared my throat, ordered a coffee from one of the waiters and picked up my pen.<br><br>"It was kind of you to meet me," I said, "We are all very interested to hear what is going on in the magical society and what kind of lives you have all had." I was certain the man was aware that this interview was not just about his job, but I always said that before an interview, to make sure they knew that most of the questions would be personal. But his silent demeanour reigned solid, and I once again had to assume he was fine with what I was saying. I was, however, curious to hear his voice again. So I gave a pleasant smile. "Let's begin, shall we? First off, why don't you just give me some trivia about yourself? Like name, age, birthday, where you were born, the name of your parents. Simple stuff like that." The look on Mr. Gaunt's face almost made me throttle myself. He was clearly unamused by the simplicity of the question, but he took a sip from his coffee and cleared his throat.<p>"My name is Mordred Gaunt, as you were well aware of. I was born in 1996, which makes me 39 years old. I was born in a small northern village called Little Hangleton. My mother, Morgause, never moved from the place, despite many reasons for why she should. I never met my father, I never felt the need to. Any more trivia you're interested in knowing?"<br><br>I couldn't quite ignore his snappy comments, but I also knew that I ought to, so I tried not to show it to him. His first comment had made me feel rather embarrassed, and that was not something I usually felt while doing interviews. It wasn't my place to feel embarrassed. So his bluntness and clear jab at me annoyed me more than it probably should. However, I refrained from commenting and nodded, while jotting down what he'd just said. "That seems tedious." His voice distracted me and made me look up at him. I was sure he could see the confusion on my face, but he didn't grace me with an answer, and merely bobbed his head in the direction of the pen. I frowned and looked at my pen. What was tedious about the pen? But when I looked back up at him, he seemed to have moved on from that subject and was drinking his coffee as if I wasn't even there. "Er... Right. Little Hangleton? I've never heard of it before. What was it like there? Did you grow up with other kids?" For some reason, I suspected that the answer to that was no. <p>"Little Hangleton was small. All the villagers living there were mostly either retired or in their late 20's. My mother was one of the latter. Not many others had kids, and the few that were there were boring and predictable." The resignation on Mr. Gaunt's face made me wonder about all the things he might have hated about the village he grew up in. His eyes once again drilled into mine. "People are predictable, but the people in this village were even more so. They lived for gossip, nothing more, nothing less. They would often approach me to learn new things that happened. I would always know. And being a child back then, I never thought that there were some things I ought to keep quiet. Of course, I don't think that way now either. However well it was to live there or not, it made me the person I am today, and I am more than content."<br><br>I looked at him, wondering if he was serious. He didn't at all strike me as a content person. He looked too serious to have ever been happy in his life. Of course, that might be the wrong assumption. He was the head of a department, he probably had a stable life and a good home. He was quite possibly married and had a family of his own. "I can see you," he suddenly said. I looked surprised up at him from the notepad and had to look back down again when the intensity of his eyes hit me harder than it ever had. I jotted down a few more things, but I felt his eyes on me and the silence hanging over us felt like heavy lead. I looked back up at him and tried -and failed- at making my face look ignorant. "See what?" I asked. Of course, I actually was ignorant; I honestly had no idea what he meant. And he had no intention of asking, and I wasn't surprised. So I sighed and looked back down at my other questions. "So what was your childhood like, before Hogwarts? What was it like without a father? What interested you? And what bored you?" Everything, said the voice in my head, and after the thought had struck, Mr. Gaunt's face contorted into something looking like annoyance, and my gut told me, it wasn't the question, it was the thought I had just thought. A terrifying thought came over me; could wizards read minds?<p>"I grew up without a father, but since I didn't know more about that than his absence, I didn't really think anything was wrong with it. My mother more than provided for me, even though it was in ways which were not necessarily condoned by society. But it never bothered either me or her. I stayed away from most people, because all they ever did was ask me about others. They were never interesting themselves, and I found no interest in divulging the things I observed.-"<br><br>"Pardon me for interrupting, but what do you mean about 'observed'? Is it since you were a child, that you were often overlooked so no one would pay you any attention and talk about happenings despite your presence?" I didn't understand how he knew all the things he did. And I made a note to myself to ask about her mother's job. It seemed he had a dark history which involved prostitution. He did look annoyed that I interrupted him, but he seemed to shrug it off, and then he continued.<p>"I mean that I could tell from looking at people what they were doing, what they were thinking, what had happened the previous day. I observed them. I saw them for what they were. Now, do you want me to continue with my story?" I nodded, but he clearly wasn't waiting for a reply. "The children around me were boring, as I previously mentioned. I spent more time on my own than with them. Their minds were slower than my own, they couldn't keep up with me. So they mocked me, bullied me. Of course, at a certain point, I snapped, and my magic manifested. I was seven, I believe. I'd shown my magical abilities earlier whilst talking to a snake, but-"<br><br>"You talked to a snake?!" I couldn't help my question coming out, completely shocked. When I realised what I'd done, I felt my face heat up. I had not meant to interrupt like that, and in such an incredulous way. He probably thought I thought he was crazy. And honestly, I probably did. His expressions was something to fear and at the same time I almost wanted to laugh at the insulted look on his face. But I focused on the fearsome aspect of it, and refrained from laughing. He had, after all, been bullied as a kid. This actually upset me, and I figured that he wasn't so different from myself.<p>"Yes, I talked to a snake. It is a family trait that runs in my lineage. Everyone with the blood of Salazar Slytherin can talk to snakes." The name rang a bell in my head, but I couldn't for the life of me remember where I had it from. I didn't want to interrupt him again, so I settled with a curious expression. He, the observer that he was, picked up on it. "He was one of the four founders of Hogwarts." I blinked. That would have to be a big deal in the wizarding community, but Mr. Gaunt seemed anything but proud. This made me respect him more than I had up unto that point. His rudeness even seemed forgivable. "I didn't have much interest towards things. I'd read a lot of books, mostly within the science-fiction genre. It was the only thing that could amuse me, and it is what made it easier for me to understand what everyone did and why they acted in such a way. I'd read so many of those books and see how different the characters would be from different authors. It gave me very many different perspectives. It made me understand the things I were observing. But even then, most things bored me. People bored me. Kids bored me. I would talk a lot to snakes, I even met a snake that would come back every few days, just to talk. It wasn't very interesting conversations, but they were intriguing. And that is what I did in my years before Hogwarts."<br><br>As I studied Mr. Gaunt, I became more and more aware that I had never met a more peculiar person in my life. His rudeness made him seem like a posh person, as if everyone was beneath him, but his amount of pride made him seem so respectable. I couldn't understand him. And then there was the odd sense I got that everyone was beneath him. Not in worth, but in force, in brainpower, in things I had never really compared people against before now. I took a moment to collect myself, to try to make sense of the things unfolding in front of me. "Moving on to Hogwarts, what was that like? Did you feel homesick the first year? And am I right in saying you were allocated into a house?" This time, Mr. Gaunt actually bobbed his head in a short nod.<p>"I was in Slytherin house, which was expected due to my lineage. I believed I should have been in Ravenclaw myself, but it was not a surprise to me. Slytherin was a perfectly acceptable house. The students were no less dumb than the children from my village, but they at least made up for their boring selves in their mishaps of magic spells. I did grow more used to them and more accustomed to them over the years. I wouldn't say I was fond of them, but some of them were respectable people whom I could get along with. But I mostly focused on my studies. I had every interest in getting good grades for myself, so I could move away from the dump of a hometown. It never really suited me."<br><br>I nodded at that; Mr. Gaunt did not seem to be the type that suited a small village. I imagined Little Hangleton to be quite a broody, dank place, and even though that might be a fair description of Mr. Gaunt, I didn't feel he could belong in such a place. "Do you feel your mother's ... er ... profession in Little Hangleton drove you further away?" I asked, knowing it was a poorly attempt at covering the real question that I was certain Mr. Gaunt would see through. His green eyes grew even colder than before, but I managed to keep eye contact this time. "My mother was many things, but she was no prostitute," he said coldly. I made a motion with my eyes that I hoped would convey that I was sorry for my presumptions. I had believed her to be a prostitute, but now I was ever more curious as to what she had been. "Back to Hogwarts, then? What were your last year like?" I asked, hoping it was a safe question. But his eyes darkened, and I involuntarily shrank into my chair.<p>"At the beginning of my sixth year, I impregnated a woman one year my senior. My sixth year was quite stressful due to this. I expected the woman to have an abortion, but she refrained from doing so. My mother got sick due to one of her jobs, she experimented with different types of alchemy. It gave her a disease that our healers couldn't get rid off. She died a month later. I buried myself in work, I was probably readier for NEWTs than the seventh years who were a month away, including the mother of my unborn child. I was moved into a run down flat for the summer, and when August came, so did my daughter. Her mother died during childbirth so she was entrusted to me. I had never intended to be a father. I had never wanted to be a father. But she was mine, and I couldn't give her up. I named her Morgana. But I had to return to Hogwarts for my seventh year. Morgana's maternal grandparents took care of her for that year. They got a place in Hogsmeade, so I could see her every day. It wasn't ideal, but it was the best we could do. I would study at their place, bring books with me, and just read out loud when she was awake. Even though she was just a baby, I had never seen anyone quite so interesting in all my life." The sombreness on Mr. Gaunt's face made me smile softly. This man was the most complex character I'd met. One minute he was stone cold, the next uninterested, then annoyed, then nonchalant, and then the most loving father I'd witnessed. "I passed my NEWTs with top grades. And then I started hunting for work."<br><br>I could see him looking at me, to see if I wanted to interject. I did, but I didn't quite know where to start. He seemed to notice this and drank from his cup. That's when I realised I had a cup of coffee myself. I'd completely forgotten about it. At least it was still hot. "It must have been difficult to raise a child on your own. Did the grandparents continue helping out?"<p>"They did. All four of us moved to a cottage in Winchester. I used the family heritage to pay for this, luckily the previous Gaunts hadn't spent it. I had more than enough trinkets to make a small fortune in addition, but money was never much of a problem. It wasn't hard for me to find work either, though keeping it was a different story. People would do background checks and see my lineage, they would loathe my behaviour. I went from one job to another. Some I managed to keep for a handful of years, others only lasted me a month. But as Morgana grew, things settled down. I wasn't quite so stressed. Her grandparents left to live in Spain, in the heat, but they insisted on us letting them know if we needed them. I never talked to them again. Morgana has regular contact with them, I believe. We bought a pet snake when she was six. She loved talking to it. Morgana was a happy child. Curious. But I saw a lot of myself in her, and I didn't like it. At the same time, her own skills of observing were my equivalent, and I enjoy every moment observing things with her. Sending her off to Hogwarts was the hardest thing I did."<br><br>I had gotten completely sucked into his story, and forgotten all about my other questions, so when he stopped talking, his low voice stopped dominating the space, I blinked and fumbled a bit with my papers. "That was around the time you got a job in the ministry?" I asked. Mr. Gaunt nodded. "As an Unspeakable?" I added. He said nothing this time, and I knew I was right. "What do you do as an Unspeakable?" I asked.<p>"I got the job when Morgana left for Hogwarts. What I do, I can't tell you. My job is of high secrecy. But we are allowed to say that we experiment with different areas of existence. I worked in the department for a couple of years before I applied to be head of the department. I was accepted and that is what I've been working with for the last seven years."<br><br>I couldn't believe that this was all I would get out of him when it came to the department. "You have to be able to tell me more about the Department of Mysteries. What kind of experiments do you do? What is the different areas? Is this kept from everyone, or just us muggles, as you so kindly call it?" I couldn't help some indignation in my voice. But this actually seemed to amuse Mr. Gaunt.<p>"You're better off not knowing. Knowing the areas is just going to make you more curious, and you won't learn more than that. The Department of Mysteries answers only to the administrative offices, and they are the only ones who know what the Unspeakable knows. Not even the Unspeakables of one area knows what the Unspeakables from another area does. It is MI6. With magic. And no spies. Actually, it is nothing like MI6. But do you want to know the areas? All right. We study and experiment with time and space, love and death and the meaning of life itself. How do we do this? I can't tell you. That is my job."<br><br>Mr. Gaunt had been right; it would have been better if I hadn't know the areas. He looked at me with such a knowing look, I couldn't help but sigh in exasperation. "You win," I said. "Where is you daughter now, though?" I asked, it striking me she had to be finished with Hogwarts herself now. And for the first time, I saw something resembling real pride in Mr. Gaunt. "My daughter works as the junior assistant to the minister for magic," he said. His voice was so proud. It was incredible. I smiled again. "Well, that seems very prestigious," I said and looked at my sheet. "Well, that was all of my questions, actually. Thank you for taking the time, Mr. Gaunt." Mr. Gaunt took my extended hand, but I could tell he was glad to be rid off me. So I walked away from the café and looked back to see the tall silhouette of Mordred Gaunt walking towards the elevators.</div><br>

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VILDE. 22. GMT.</div>

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