Past strangers, future friends? PV Rosalind K.

"Cassanora, yes. 12 years old and sadly twice as mischievous as any member of my family." The man smirked a bit. Little 'nora was bright for her age, he was actually quite proud of her. But with wits came trouble he found out. And she had got herself in more than a few scrapes and bruises. Perhaps talking herself out of situation was something she still could work on. Knowing when to shut your mouth was one of those. She would flop anything out of her mouth that came to mind. A dangerous talent.

"Yes... I was here during the war." Caradoc fell silent for a few seconds. It was apparent that there were still some memories in there of his childhood. "Though I did not fight in it. I was too young at the time. All I witnessed of it were the friends I lost." An important moment in his life however, one that marked the very direction his life would steer in. It was the moment that made him decide to become a healer. A moment that made him see the relevance he could bring to a person's life. How he could spare people of the same fate those children had witnessed. Death was a nasty thing. And he had seen it in the eye. For some reason the hag come to mind. How silly of him to have even briefly stood his ground. He had never been a soldier, he was a natural healer. What would he have done against the hag. The only thing that saved him that night was a clever trick with a simple spell. And long live apparition.

No, Doc was disgusted with death. The bright green flash blinding his eyes as it missed him by less than an inch. While he never blamed Zahid or Elliot for not having been fighters themselves, the three of them were sorely out of place that night. "This time... I feel like they made it in." Doc added with a serious face. "And no I am not suggesting it is you, miss Kibitzer. You truly have my utmost faith. But there's been evidence all around now. Writings on the walls, two common rooms attacked, mysterious entries from both hags and giants at the ball. There's too many to ignore. Though Solomon is close. Otherwise, we'd be in a lot more trouble." For a moment, Doc would appear to be the tired old man from the Headmaster's office again. "Have your cards told you nothing of this place? Did they not warn you?"

The woman says nothing about the comment on Cassanora's mischief, but makes her opinion known through a low grunt and an unimpressed look. Mischief, is that it? Maybe that's what mister Browne considered himself to be - mischievous and clever, rather than prying and transparent. A little badger snuffling up trouble and sticking his nose in all sorts of places it did not belong. Rosalind looked down into the crystal ball on her table, watching the room in the foggy reflection inside of it.

Where was she during the war? Nowhere important. A continent away, living in relative safety, a pure blooded pedigree letting her live worry-free as blood status squabbles encroached on peaceful living in foreign ports. Of course, she did as much as anyone. She moved aside quietly to make room for the families of British wizards fleeing from the strife, but she never stuck her neck out. That's one problem with being a Seer, perhaps - the whole world seems so far away. She'd never thought about the children of Hogwarts during that time, and here was one right in front of her, missing pieces from way back then. Friends he lost. She lifted her head to look at him, but offered no condolences. They would just prolong the conversation.

"Your utmost faith," Rosalind repeated, staring off into the space behind Caradoc's head. Of course, he brought up the cards. A Seer, a professor of Divination, she had to see everything coming. If she so much as lifted an eyebrow in surprise at something, there would e a sassy little comment from every direction. Everyone had to get their jokes in. The tired old man from the Headmaster's office held no warm place in Professor Kibitzer's heart.

"Is that why you came up here, mister Browne? A card reading?" she said, letting the bitter words slide out of her mouth. "I am not behind it, nor was I aware of it. I came to teach and do nothing else. But that isn't what fate had in mind. Had I been more wise, I might have asked a couple more questions to the cards... but had I been more wise, my life would be a whole lot different than it is now."

She paused, taking a slow breath through her nose, and giving Caradoc a mildly sympathetic look. "Whatever has made it in won't be here forever. We and our students will make sure of that. Try and keep up a brave face - like I said, we're the grown-ups."

"Please." Caradoc scoffed with an agitated face. "Adults, children, ... we all die when a curse hits us at the right spot. It's too damn late for those sentiments." His eyes locked on the other's face. "What I was asking was help. Yes." He leaned forward tapping his index on the table. "You've signed up now, professor. Anything you got, we'll need you to bring it. Or there's a good damn chance this castle is closed by the end of this year." He rose up from his chair. His eyes laid rest on the crystal orb in their midst. "I taught Divination for just a bit. It is oddly frustrating. Whether you know an answer or not, things change and some things don't. Neither offers a solution."

The Head of Hufflepuff turned his heel and slowly started walking towards the door. "I'll see myself out, professor Kibitzer. I do not wish to waste your time any further than I have. It's clear apologies fall short when severe times call for harder words to be noted" His hand grabbed the door and pulled it open. As he made his way through the frame, he took halt and looked over his shoulder. "And Rosalind... I am a Hufflepuff. When we are called to fight. I die first."

"Do you think it feels good to bring nothing to the table for these kids?" Rosalind said, scoffing in return, confusion and hurt leaking through the cracks of her stone face. She tapped her fingernail off the surface of her crystal ball, lips pressed tight into a thin line. She was well aware of her usefulness as a tool. Many people happily climbed the stairs just to get her to do her trick and then leave. But there were times when the cards would need to be kept in their box, and this was one of them. Divination is a foggy art. They didn't need to observe the stars, they needed to observe their castle.

"I will do what I can to ensure no castles close and that you are not first to die," she said, her distaste for his heroism evident in her tone. So very righteous was this man who had come to invade her space, seeking forgiveness for his own sake. "If you want my help, I can lend it. If you want my forgiveness, you can earn it."

She paused, her jaw clenching as she restrained herself from saying more. The same urge to go flying over the table toward him was creeping into her mind. If he was so insistent on being the first to die, she would not deny him the honor. But if he was going to be dramatic about it, she had the right to be bitter.

"Goodbye, Professor Browne."