Past strangers, future friends? PV Rosalind K.

Rosalind could hear Caradoc coming for almost a full minute as she sat in her classroom, resting her legs after making the trek up herself. She had begun to consider giving up her morning run, considering the journey it was just to get back up here afterward. After passing a fat ghost in the hall, she hoped that she would keel over on the way up, so she could simply float up the stairwell from then on. No such luck, unfortunately. The woman sat in her chair, legs sore, uncomfortably alive.

She was waiting for him in the centre of the room looking like a common fortune teller, seated behind a garish purple table with a crystal ball in an ornate holder atop it. A student of Trelawney might be relieved to find that there was no clouds of incense for the mind to drown in. The window was wide open keeping the air fresh and chilly. Much like the professor herself, who looked up to greet him with a nod and a tight-lipped smile. Was he here to interrogate her?

"Professor Browne," she responded in turn, setting her quill down and folding her hands on top of one another at the table's edge. A pouf waited for him on the opposite side of the table, if he wanted to sit. Otherwise, the room was his to explore, just the same as Professor Benoit had left it - minus the smell. It was the only thing Kibitzer cared to change just yet.

The man seemed gentle, but there was still a sour feeling left from the stress of the meeting. Being alone here, she felt vulnerable. She tried not to let it show. "Can I help you?"

She seemed to be waiting for him. A creepy thought if it were true. Divination always had been a rather ominous branch of magic. In fact it had been a funny little twist of fate that he had been placed as an interim professor for the subject in absence of a newly appointed professor. He knew nothing of the former Divination professor and he knew even less about the current one. Other than her unusal time of arrival and the mysterious acceptance of her application.

Nevertheless, Caradoc felt bad on how the newest member of staff had been treated. And he knew he was partially at fault there. Whether she was here for good or bad, he had no way of knowing and for that she deserved every chance he would have given any of his other colleagues. His eyes locked with Rosalind's as a smile was conjured on his face.

"Professor Kibitzer." He bowed slightly as he approached. "I have come to apologise." He locked both hands behind his back and did not take a seat unless offered. His hair was combed backwards and his beard trimmed on the sides. It was eveident he made the effort to not look like the resident hobo any longer. Even though the recent levels of stress would have given him every right to neglect his outward appearance.

"My behaviour in the Headmaster's office was below disrespectful. While I must make note that none of my accusations were directly pointed towards you ma'am. It was rather a general statement, but I have also... discovered.. that my mind has been slightly... altered with lately. The unfortunate encounter with the hag has left its mark I'm afraid. In any regard I felt I needed to apologise and welcome you properly to our school."

Rosalind pressed her boots to the floor, feeling the softness of the exotic rug under her feet. She pressed until the springy fabric was crushed flat, the dirt on the soles of her boots leaving prints beneath the table. Every part of her wanted to pounce over the table and tear that smile off of his face, but she restrained herself. It was unusual to have so much concern for her reputation with her colleagues. The professor had never been a professor in such a prestigious institution. It was rare she kept a job for more than a month - not owing to a lack of competence, but to an unbearable sense that if she stuck around too long, things would catch up with her.

"Is that right?" A curt response slipped past her lips. She dropped her smile. There was no need to wear masks - the jig was up. Inspector Browne was here to suss her out. She wasn't sure what she had done to deserve his wrath, but at least he had the courtesy to dress up for the occasion. A trimmed beard notably reduced Caradoc's visible level of derangement. Her filter had already been broken, so she let slip another spiteful muttering. "Let's hear it."

He couldn't even do her the courtesy of sitting down with her, like an equal. With him standing there, she felt smaller than she was. She wanted to stand up. It would be worthless, however. She'd look like a rebellious teenager - even if the man looked about half her age. Professor Kibitzer leaned back in her seat, away from the table, resting her arms on the rests of her hideous, overlarge armchair. Even on her own turf, the sight of the man made her feel like she was on trial.

But the apology was sincere. Rosalind felt the ball of ice that had been in her belly fading away. Fear eroded into understanding, and the woman's smile reappeared. It was restrained, as though pushing the expression too hard might break it. "It's fine."

An altered mind? Rosalind's brow lifted in surprise, before furrowing tightly. She looked as if she were perplexed by a riddle, or a particularly difficult crossword from the copy of the Daily Prophet she kept rolled up beside her desk for some fun on her breaks. Minds were complex things, full of delicate parts. Had the man been altered, or damaged? One lead to the other. He had her sympathy either way. She knew how terrifying it could be to face alterations of that nature. There was an overwhelming feeling of off-ness that came with it. Things that were the same felt different. You felt like you'd been replaced by an identical copy, unable to find your true self.

"I understand," she said simply, leaning back in toward her table and lifting her quill up to put it properly in its holder. A moment passed before she was able to look up at him again, blue eyes darting over each of his shoulders, hoping he wouldn't notice her avoiding his eyes. "It's alright. I appreciate the welcome."

She finally met his gaze, staring up at the younger professor. He had earned her forgiveness, but not her trust. If there was anything more he wanted from this warm welcome, he'd have to bring it forward himself.

Her choice of words was... minimal to say the least. Understandable of course given the recent misfortune their initial encounter had. Though admittedly, she did arrive at the strangest time possible for him to grasp in a time of stress. At the very least he had chosen to own up to his poor behaviour and sought to mend their current status. Over the years he had stood proud on the fact of being kind to others and respectful of one's being. Something his own folks back home had stood for. Something Caduceus for sure did not truly get with the way he handled his... associates. Caerys was an entirely different matter, knowing her, she'd have burst right in here and hugged the soul right out of Kibitzer.

Doc wondered if that would have brought a smile on the woman's face. He wondered many things about new people he'd met. Intentions, ambitions, needs, wants, ... that sort of thing. Without further ado, he chose to take his seat anyway. After all, the professor had seemingly been waiting for him. Divined by her crystal orb or by laying a few cards on the table, he would not know. But he knew telling the future could be a very real thing. Not perfected, but real nonetheless. Tapping his fingers on the table he leaned forward to meet her gaze. Giving her a curiously raised eyebrow as he inspected her visage closely. "Have you noticed anything strange in your short stay so far?" He asked promptly. "Surely this castle is an odd step further from Ilvermorny. Haven't been there myself of course. Though I've had the pleasure of meeting Plott. He was... less open regarding his intentions." He leaned sideways into the back of his chair as he pondered on the American Headmaster. "Being in contact with a foreign student without sanction or supervision is, at the very least, highly unorthodox." He did not know why he was bringing it up to her. Somewhere inside he felt like he needed to share it. Perhaps to gain some insight in whom the man was and how Kibitzer reacted to the world around her. "Of course I know he received his position after your time. I just wondered if he is a known man in the American wizarding society. There's fairly little we know of him in here. And why he is inside the castle. Or his business with the ministry..."

The Head of House sighed as he closed his eyes. "There I go again." He chuckled. "My mind has not known rest for some time now. I can not seem to find the answers on my own. I was hoping a fresh view might change that predicament. Something is going terribly wrong in this school, and I do not know what it is."

Rosalind shifted in her seat as Caradoc sat across from her. Her great armchair granted her a bit of a height advantage. The seats in the classroom were tiny things, although well cushioned and comfortable for short-term sitting. She was glad for the difference. It helped her retain some impression of control over the situation if she could look down at him, or at least see him as an equal in her own classroom. He leaned in, and she remained still, her head resting against the chair. The corner of her lip twitched a bit. He was inspecting her - behaviour more appropriate for a suspect than a colleague, she thought.

She smirked and shook her head as he asked the first question. She was right. He wasn't here to apologize. He was here for an interrogation. She gave him nothing - stiff lips, stone face, mask on tight. All she did was stare down at him until he was finished with asking questions and launched right into explaining his actions again. Too bad. He'd squandered her sympathy. He was back on her list, and it was clear from the look on her face that she wasn't entirely interested in chummy conversation. When she finally opened her mouth, it was another brief statement.

"I graduated before he was born," she said, wrinkling her nose into a derisive sneer at the idea that Professor Plott would somehow be a known man to her. While she wasn't sure if what she said was true, it should at least get the point across. Her interests had obviously moved far beyond the affairs at Ilvermorny as she aged. A moment passed and she looked at him with a bit more understanding - she realized now that if she had any kids, she may have been concerned with the school's headmaster. At her age, it would be usual to have some children. "Well, I'd agree that is highly unusual. I don't know if you need me to tell you that it isn't standard for the headmaster of Ilvermorny to jump across the Atlantic for months at a time and harass foreign students. That isn't the Halloween tradition or anything."

She stared ahead at him with that same stiff expression, like a marble statue, or a stuffed deer. During their last meeting, she had shown too many cracks. This time, she'd be solid rock.

"I can't say I've seen much out of the ordinary that you haven't seen," she mumbled. There was a pause before she added a few extra words. "Or done."

Caradoc sunk a bit as he sighed. "That's okay miss Kibitzer. Thank you for your honesty." He spoke with a soft voice, but a slight disappointment visible in his hopeful face. At this point there was little he had left to figure out with the evidence he had. He felt like he was figuring out the pattern of a tapestry by seeing just a single thread. Yet he could not shake the feeling it was all somehow connected. Wiggling his nose as he thought about anything he could recall of Plott, he realised he actually had very little information on the man. He felt lost.

"Do you have any family, professor?" He asked, reaching a point of conversation that hit home for him. It made him relate the most when things involved family. He was almost afraid to ask her that question. Why would a woman her age travel all the way to a place like Hogwarts. He was afraid he knew the answer. Though inside he held out hope for her to have children of her own. A son or daughter that sent her letters with an address to reply to. Or perhaps a grandchild that would smile at her as she went to sleep and shot a final look towards the picture on her night stand.

She seemed... hard. Stern? Cold? But he knew that was untrue for most human beings. Caradoc was a healer, and people could be healed in many ways beyond the physical. This way he recognised that whether she liked it or not, he would see if she were interested to share what she had. Families were important. Love was, in fact.

Rosalind looked away for a moment, nostrils flaring as she took in a slow, cleansing breath of cool air. She was pleased she had the foresight to open the windows. The room seemed to close in on you, otherwise, threatening to smother you in gaudy tapestry. At the moment, that was just the backdrop for the professors' showdown. She tried to remain inscrutable, fingers scratching at the seams of her armchair as she perched herself at the edge. The man had more questions.

"Contrary to the popular belief among my students, I am not a boggart. I was not summoned forth out of a dark closet, spawned from their fears. I have two parents. My mother lives in Salem and my father lives in New York City." Was that it? Amid the broad tapestries present, the Kibitzer line seemed to have narrowed down to just one grey strand. Far from home, but with nothing, no one, to return to. It made a person cold. She did not speak to her lack of children - the silence spoke for her. There was nothing.

Perhaps Professor Browne was cold once. He had it in him, somewhere - some place cool and dark where he kept his old skills, sharp as a knife, ready to be brought against those who were unfamiliar. People outside of his little "family," like Rosalind.

Her mind was moving too quickly to reflect upon the harsh judgements she was making about this kind man's character. He was head of Hufflepuff, for crying out loud - maybe he led by example, the harmless man behind the harmless house. But Rosalind knew too well the kind of darkness that could hide within a nice man like that. She couldn't help her curiosity, however, and thought there was more to be gleaned from answering questions than trying to burrow into his soul with her gaze.

"Do you?"

And there it was. Just as he had expected, there was no mention of children or even a partner. Not that he figured her a lifelong virgin or any of that silly stuff. But he could not help but gather a sense of... sadness from her. He nodded his head quietly and gave her a knowing look. "I would not know what your reputation gathers from the students. They don't speak so often to their Heads of Houses. Or not as often as we would sometimes like." His hands folded together as he thought about what she had told him. He had never been to America before. Salem was just a name he heard over some other bits and pieces in Magical History. New York was just a city most folks should know of, given its common occurrence in media.

"A daughter." Caradoc replied with a smile. "Both my folks and siblings are doing well for themselves. Well... some better than others..." His mind would escape to the image of Caduceus living his lazy life from the comfiness of a couch. "Cassanora came a bit early in my life, I'll admit. Of course that might as well been nature's trickery to counter balance my parents getting their children later on than most would." A soft chuckle would escape his mouth as he leaned back a little to let his back rest in another position. They had been very caring parents and there never had been anything to complain about for him. It made him thankful for what they had made him become. "She will actually arrive here at Hogwarts next school year." He continued, a sigh following his latest statement. "I won't lie that I am a bit worried about that."

"There are far too many enemies lurking around the castle these days. Granted, back when I was attending the very same school, things weren't exactly better. Hogwarts has a tendency of attracting a dangerous plethora of trouble." He referenced the times of Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived prancing about school and only leaving it dipped in darkness. Sure, the man was a hero. But it was almost disgusting how only his actions seemed to matter to history. So many had died, so many were hurt over those years. And now times like that seemed to be closing in once more. Only this time he found himself at the front lines, facing the consequences of every action he'd make. Yet he was still no soldier, and he never would be.

"Of course not, you're a grown-up. Those are boring," Rosalind informed him. She was the expert on that, of course, being one of the oldest people on staff as far as she could tell. Although, there was the dhampir - those could be incredibly well-preserved, even in their old age. Enough blood to keep the cheeks pink and they're just as lively as the day they were spawned. She had a healthy fear of afflicted wizards like that, but she had learn to overcome it as she grew up. Her curiosity was greater than her fear, now. A lifelong learner.

The woman tried to maintain her cold indifference as the man spoke. He was doing this on purpose - trying to give her some information in exchange for her own. Quid pro quo. A powerful, mind-altering incantation, but one she wouldn't fall for so easily. That said, she couldn't help but show a half-smile at the mention of Cassanora's arrival. "A good motivation to tighten up security. Cassanora, is that right?"

It reminded her of someone else's name, but she withheld her comment. The man chose to complain about the safety of the school - something that endeared Professor Kibitzer to him ever so slightly. She was fond of the cause of tightening security, and she never shied away from a chance to complain. "There was that war, wasn't there? I suppose you would have been here during that time..."

She hummed softly. That changed things, slightly. She was starting to sympathize - he had a daughter, he'd been through the war, the fight with the hags... his tactics were working. She clenched her jaws, feeling a tightness in her mind as she closed the gaps in her defenses. "It has survived, and will continue to. Lest we ever compromise on the education of the children," she said. It's difficult to tell if it's sarcasm or genuine, but it's a good sentiment either way.