Counting the small skeletons in their box to make sure none of the new first years decided to test their limits with her, Zoë found herself lost in thought as her eyes instinctively unfocused themselves into a blurred reverie. She should have been thinking about her curriculum for the year, perhaps what she would eat for dinner or maybe the new students’ names she needed to memorize but none of those thoughts seemed to budge what had been weighing on her since last night.

She knew Eliseo’s past was something of a sensitive subject, much like hers, but still she wanted to know everything about him. She wanted to know the things he wouldn’t tell anyone. The things he would trust her to keep secret between them. Maybe then she would be able to open up more about everything that had happened in her childhood.

Running her fingers lazily over the ribs of one of the skeletons, Zoë bit down on her lip as her mind wandered to their drunken conversation last night in Eliseo’s home. Everything seemed to be going how it usually did. The two enjoyed a gorgeous meal that they had worked together to make and enjoyed a little bit too much to drink. Eliseo seemed to always have at least a few bottles of wine on hand for her and it was rare to see him without whiskey when there weren’t children around that he had to keep his appearance up for.

Zoë had remembered reading about a Russian group of dark wizards that had been in the paper that morning for some vicious attacks in Volgograd so she had casually asked Eliseo if he had heard about it. In his inebriated state he had said, “I saw a bit of that. Terrible stuff, reminded me of the Salamandras Blancas in Caracas…”

Caracas. He had let slip the location months back when she had harmlessly asked him places he would never want to visit. It seemed silly at the time and certainly not any place she would have guessed as her answer had been the Amazon Rainforest due to the massive amount of bugs she knew were there and the sweat and dirt she no doubt would be covered in. Over the summer she had tried to gently poke him more about why he wouldn’t go there but she was consistently met with new subjects or vague answers like he was a politician trying to maintain his image.

And here it was again, Caracas. And some group called the Salamandras Blancas. Hoping to have his answers be a bit more responsive in his loosened state, Zoë had pressed further but once again the doors to his past barred shut like they were keeping away a deadly plague. He pushed on to a new subject and she was left again with more questions but now she had a name. A group that presumably would have some information on them at least enough to give her insight into Eliseo’s memories and maybe give her something she and Eliseo could have in common.

Dropping the skeleton into the box, Zoë took in a sharp inhale as she grabbed her wand and placed it in her matching clutch. She had decided to wear one of her Beauxbatons outfits today, as she was feeling a bit homesick from her last teaching job and found that wearing her wardrobe from there gave her comfort. Plus she couldn’t deny how put-together and elegant they made her look.

Meeting her gaze in the mirror for a moment, she hesitated about what she was planning to do. If Eliseo didn’t want to talk about his past she shouldn’t go prying for information but her curiosity couldn’t be contained. She desperately wanted to know what they had done to make him never want to talk about it with her or rather what they had made him do. Nodding to herself in the mirror for some unspoken encouragement, Zoë left her office and locked it before making her way to Hogsmeade.

Using the Floo Network in Hogsmeade, Zoë swiftly arrived in Diagon Alley as she dusted off her dress, nodded to a few passing witches and made her way to Flourish and Blotts, a look of determination brewing in her eyes.

The street was quieter than she was used to as she usually only ventured to Diagon Alley on the weekends but in a way it was calming to be able to hear passing conversations or see into shop windows that she had never gone into before.

Pushing open the door to the bookshop, Zoë found her eyes trailing to the endless aisles and shelves packed full with books on every topic. Reading had never been all that much of a passion of hers. Her success in school could mostly be attributed to her quick learning and ability to read at an absurd rate when she had more exciting things planned for after her homework.

Already feeling overwhelmed at the prospect of searching for a book she wasn’t even sure existed, Zoë eyed the shopkeeper who appeared to already have their hands tied with another customer. Looking around for another employee, Zoë let out a soft sigh as she begrudgingly started working her way down the first aisle.

Was she looking for books about Caracas? About the Salamandras Blancas? Dark history surrounding South America? Caracas was in South America right?

Letting out another sigh, Zoë rounded the corner and started down the next aisle lazily dragging her finger across the spines of the books as her eyes wandered higher and higher til she saw a sign hanging above the aisle to her right that said “Dark Wizards and Histories.”

Hyper focused, Zoë raced to the next aisle as she quickly eyed the titles on the shelf trying to figure out the rhyme or reason to their placement. It felt like maybe they were in alphabetical order but certain titles threw off the pattern. Eyes flicking aggressively between the books, Zoë puffed out her cheeks as she couldn’t find anything titled the Salamandras Blancas in the ‘S’s’ nor anything that remotely seemed to gravitate towards South American gangs. There was one book titled 'South American Magical Calamities' but it sounded more like people setting off a volcano as opposed to a dark group of wizards she was desperately trying to seek out.

Searching around the ‘C’s’, Zoë could feel her patience wearing thin as none of the books appeared to say Caracas or even hint at it. Turning to the shelves behind her, Zoë saw a familiar man reading in the corner whose curiosity in this particular bookshop on a weekday was enough to pull her from her hunt.

Walking closer to him, Zoë’s face morphed from helpless disappointment to warmth as a smile crested onto her face. “Fancy seeing you so far from the school, Atticus.” She playfully greeted walking closer still to him. “What brings you all the way here?”

OOTD:

Reducio

Hexcode= #946F6F

Yeah, it had been that kind of day today. Back when he worked for MACUSA, the only person he had ever been made to answer to was his handler, but now? Now he had to answer to children, and hundreds of them. So what of it now? It wasn't like any of his own questions were being answered. It was for exactly this reason that Atticus decided to make a split second decision. Taking the floo network to Diagon Alley, the retired veteran stepped into Flourish and Blotts for some much needed R&R.

Browsing the sections, there were a lot of options that interested him. History was a fun subject, or at least so he thought. Having lived through the past forty years of it however, Atticus found himself inclined to believe that obscurer information might be better choice. Picking up a book on cold case files, unsolved mysteries spanning the last millennia, Atticus reclined in one of the chairs and began to read. Not only did it serve to answer a few of his own questions, cases that he'd been involved in or heard of by tenuous and distant connection, but it also served as a good dose of nostalgia. Ah, the good ole days!

After several chapters, the nostalgia began to wear off at about the same time the strength to lift his eyelids waned. As Atticus's chin dropped to his chest the older man dozed off to a light sleep. Not the kind where you dream, or drool, but the kind where an old man could truly relax and let go of the troublesome past that he carried with him in every thought. It was not long into this nap before he was awoken by a playful voice.

“Fancy seeing you so far from the school, Atticus.”

His eyes fluttered open. Had she seen he was dozing off like a true senior? The way he snortled when he awoke, there was no doubt in his mind. Atticus would mumble as he made himself upright and removed his hat to show a colleague the proper respect she deserved.

“What brings you all the way here?”

He would answer honestly and seek atonement. "I was just resting my eyes, please forgive me." He was not the kind to make excuses, especially not regarding his age. "I had gotten wrapped up in a bit of nostalgia," he admitted, lifting the book in his other hand as evidence. "Seems a bit too much of it can put a man to rest." Her warmth and attitude were disarming enough that he let his guard down. Being perhaps one of the few professors at Hogwarts he had actually become informally acquainted with, Atticus thought she was quite lovely.

Her presence in the bookstore however was quite the surprise in and of itself. "I could ask you the same thing." So he did.

@Zoë Fresnel

Zoë needed to stifle a potential laugh as she greeted the familiar man. She hadn’t been sure upon her approach, but she had slightly begun to wonder if the older man had drifted off in his musings. She couldn’t have been sure, for all she knew he was deep in thought about whatever he was reading. However, the soft snortle Atticus gave as he sprung to consciousness confirmed that he had truly dozed off. She couldn’t blame him, reading for too long had the same effect on her. Part of her felt bad for removing the man from his little slumber but she couldn’t help but smile at watching the life flow back into the man’s eyes.

He was quickly apologetic about the situation and Zoë immediately waved a dismissive hand. “Oh don’t apologize! When we aren’t locked away teaching, it is my thought that we can do just about what we please. Including finding a nice place with no students to drift away,” she said with a playful wink. But she was deeply curious about what the nostalgia was that the man had referred to. Atticus always seemed to have an aura around him that made Zoë want to find out more but she knew that most people weren’t exactly as forthcoming with information as she was. That was, after all, the entire reason that she was there in the first place.

Before Zoë had the chance to further prod the man, he had flipped her question on her. If there was one thing Zoë enjoyed, it was talking. It didn’t quite matter what it was about but she very much enjoyed the chance to be social. And if it kept her from sitting down to read, she was more than happy to oblige.

“Where to even begin,” Zoë said, shaking her head with a bit of dramatics. “Well, you see… You know Eliseo, right? The Groundskeeper, yeah you know. Anyways, he is like a brick wall sometimes if you are trying to find things out about him. Like just the other day...I think it was like three days ago, actually. We were in the Great Hall and had just finished an amazing meal. I can’t remember exactly what we ate but you know those little fruit tarts they have sometimes? I love those things so much…” At this point, it might become clear that asking Zoë what she was doing would invariably be accompanied by an entire journey of a story. New characters would be introduced, there would be twists and turns, and there was no guarantee that anything would be any more clear.

“I think I learned how to make those tarts pretty well but there is just a little something special on them. I am going to have to talk to the elves. Where was I?...OH! Eliseo! Yes well we were...Having just a colleague dinner at his home. It's really nice in there, small but has kind of a cute aesthetic. I’ll admit, the first time I went in there I didn’t know what to expect! I didn’t even actually know he was the Groundskeeper...But I am getting distracted,” Zoë said, trying exceptionally hard to not get too lost in her story.

With the speed in which Zoë spoke, it could seem like an energetic blur in front of Atticus. There would be no sentence uttered that wasn’t accompanied by a slew of dramatic hand gestures. “During that dinner, I think we were having like some spicy chicken or something?... There was wine though! I don’t think he actually likes wine though. Anyways, we were talking and like every time the subject became his past, we somehow ended up changing topics without me even realizing! But, this is where it gets good,” Zoë said, narrowing her eyes and nodding to Atticus.

“Eliseo let some information slip! Oh it was just one little sentence but for him that is like a book coming out! Now I had no idea what he was talking about but I have been thinking there has to be some kind of book on it. You know?” Zoë said with a playfully pleased grin as if she was some detective finally piecing together some elusive case. “To make a long story short...I am just kinda browsing,” she smiled before aimlessly glancing around at the rows of books around them. A chance to talk to someone meant that she wouldn’t actually need to try and find a useful book and her patience for research had never exactly been very high.

OOTD:

Reducio

#134f5c
@Atticus Wade

Hexcode= #946F6F

"...Including finding a nice place with no students to drift away,"

Boy was he glad to hear that from her. All work and no play made a man boring, dull and gray and Atticus thought himself living proof of that concept. Luckily for him, she had something interesting to say or rather, something interesting for him to listen to.

He would nod to encourage her along as Eliseo was not entirely unfamiliar to him. They had met once before outside of Hogwarts on a night Atticus had been feeling particularly friendly and sociable. A card game between colleagues. The nurse, former librarian and astronomy teachers had played at least a hand and even Miss Fresnel herself had been in attendance. Though with all the drinks and merrymaking he had his doubts that his first impression of the others was entirely accurate. Zoë however was becoming more familiar with each word she spoke, but his understanding of her situation was hardly more accurate.

"Having just a colleague dinner at his home."

Atticus's eyebrows would raise in fret before she the charms professor mentioned she didn't know Eliseo was the grounds keeper, after which his concern disappeared beneath a good humored rumble of a chuckle. To him, dinner with a colleague was similar to saying "a death sentence." Hit Wizards had a tendency to eat alone, the retired ones too. He didn't mind so much that the intended information only came after several tangents of thought, and up until now had been focused on the energy with which she spoke. She reminded him of younger days something that managed to pull him away to his own thoughts, reminiscing until she said...

"...But, this is where it gets good,”

Those were words he trained in on, refocusing not just on the words themselves, but the intonations they brought to her conversation, the micro expressions she subconsciously signaled when she spoke them, and the way the words themselves seemed to burden her thoughts. Narrowed eyes, a playful grin, and a touch of suspicion the moment she finished recanting, all things he observed as she scanned the area surrounding them. He had no doubts about it, Eliseo wasn't going to be safe for much longer, this woman had her sights set on him and he was caught dead in the crosshairs. Well, if one considered a work-pleasure-relationship a hit anyways.

Atticus would mimic her movements, searching around for some unseen guest, suddenly paranoid that they were being followed by an agent or some other ne'er-do-well intent on hushing the facts that she had pried from Eliseo. No such figure stood out amongst the bookstore. No such danger was present in this moment. Satisfied with his own perception, he would turn back to Zoë with concern in his eyes, his brow furrowed. "Zoë, what'd you learn? What'd the man say that you just had to come and find a book on it?" If there was anything he couldn't stand, even after all these years on his lonesome, it was the suspense of uncertainty.

@Zoë Fresnel

It was no secret that Zoë loved to talk but even more so she loved to put on a show. Most of the time her charm and looks got people to stop and listen to what she was saying but when people actively made an effort to engage in her over the top storytelling she found herself feeling like she just stepped on stage, causing her to put even more into her performance.

Her eyes sparked when Atticus mirrored her movements looking around to make sure they were alone. She could feel her lips pulling on a harnessed smile as she quickly looked around for a vacant chair spotting one just a bit behind her as she abruptly stopped her story, turned on her heels, and went to retrieve it. Pushing and heaving the oversized chair across the aged wooden floor, Zoë let her racing thoughts mark her oblivious to those peacefully reading in the shop as she finally and rather noisily plopped her chair in front of Atticus as if his active interest in her plight was an open invitation to join him.

Leaning closer to him and lowering her voice a little to add to the effect, Zoë kept an eyebrow slightly raised in an attempt to increase the intrigue of the moment. “He mentioned the….Salamandras Blancas in Caracas.” She replied, acting as though she let slip the juiciest drama to unfold at Hogwarts. But as she went to elaborate on this nefarious group she realized she had nothing else to add. She herself had only heard of Caracas maybe once or twice in her life and now she had impulsively pulled Atticus into her latest obsession.

“To be honest…I don’t actually know what that could possibly mean. Beyond Caracas, of course. I have never been to Caracas though. Once I thought about going to South America but like…bugs and giant spiders. Not quite sure that would be for me. Which is probably why I liked Paris so much because you see-” Zoë paused mid-sentence as she realized she was inching dangerously closer to a full-blown tangent and once she was off the leash, getting her back could be impossible. Her chaotic and kaleidoscopic mind had always made her quickly lose her place in conversation as her brain hopped from one topic to another with no seeming sense.

She shifted her eyes back to Atticus and took a slow breath to reorient herself. She didn’t want to seem like she was the crazy and chatty professor… despite the ample evidence and slow-growing desire to just tell more stories.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to blast you with my crazy babble. It is just nice to talk to someone who isn’t a wide-eyed child. I mean, you are ol-... experienced. You must have tons of crazy stories about your time out thur in the states, eh partner?” Zoë winked while trying to maintain an abysmal southern accent.

OOTD:

Reducio

#134f5c
@Atticus Wade

Hexcode= #946F6F

The Salamandras Blancas in Caracas. Hadn't he been there once before for a work mixer? Now was one of those moments he wished he could conjure up his own memories. Damn Gamp's Laws, those immutable boundaries which kept magic confined. His brow would furrow as the tea was spilled his way. He didn't have much of a palette for jumping to conclusions, but it seemed something had given Miss Fresnel a reason to be paranoid, so who was he to judge?As her words halted mid-sentence and her gaze turned to match his, Atticus let the seriousness of his expression melt away. Instead he offered a nod for her to continue on her way, reassuring her as she took a deep breath.

When she began to offer an apology, he would find a moment in between her words to dismiss her worries, his hand would wave backwards as though it were all a matter for the past. "Honestly, it's more like a breeze than a blast," he would add while his low rumble of a chuckle announced his entertainment at her attempt to mimic his accent. "And you'll have to trust me when I say I do," He added, confirming her suspicions that he might have a storied history. "Working for MACUSA was an honor, but I didn't have nearly the time to engage in such delightful conversations as this one."

He would shoot another warm smile her way. "As for the Salamandras Blancas in Caracas, I think I've been once before but those memories are foggier now that I've settled here in England." He would draw a tight smile, letting his wrinkles obviate his humor, but move on much in the way one does when they tell a joke for their own enjoyment. "Coincidentally enough however, I do think there's a story from the past that you might be able to help me find some answers for." He would cut right to the chase, bringing his book to her attention. "I wasn't always a professor, in fact, I led a life more like the people written about in this book." Dark Wix, Hit-Wizards, Criminals and Aurors from all throughout history were etched into the book's binding.

"One man still eludes me to this day, and I don't mean to pry but..." He would turn to a name, Gaetan Fresnel, and look her dead in the eye, sharing what he had found. "I believe I met this man while attending a dinner party a long long time ago. While he was not a person of interest to us then, we learned afterwards that he may have influenced the course of history more so than the one whose details I was interested in at the time." He would hand her the book, a cold look of inspection washing over his face. The information inside the book was unpleasantly short in its description of Gaetan. Essentially it contained nothing useful at all.

"I apologize for the intrusion, but I can't help but notice you share a name. I'm curious to know if you're related?" He would measure her response, doing his best to gauge whether or not she was telling him the truth.

@Zoë Fresnel

At the slight but shrouded confirmation of an existing storied past, Zoë’s eyebrow instinctively and inquisitively rose. She chose not to pounce on the statement, despite the gnawing sense of curiosity that began to grow. She has some knowledge of MACUSA but she hadn’t interacted with the American governance enough to have any more than the most basic foundational knowledge. She believed there was likely far more to his tale and his curious involvement with the organization but she would leave such prodding to another time. At the end of the day, the Ministry and headmaster had trusted Atticus to teach the kids of Hogwarts, so she doubted that she needed to distrust the man.

With a polite smile to the side, Zoë nodded her understanding. There was a bit of disappointment that the man hadn’t known anything about the organization but she couldn’t really blame him. For all she knew, they were some virtually unknown group or something. But her curiosity was immediately re-engaged as the man brought her attention to the book he had been reading. It seemed to be a book that documented various types of magical criminals, undesirables, and those who worked to stop them. Zoë thought it best to avoid figuring out which life the man may have led in particular. Everyone had their pasts and she was not there to judge anything. But that didn’t do anything to quell the inferno of curiosity now bubbling and raging just below the surface.

She had to admit that it sounded like a very interesting read but she tended to stray away from reading anything that had to deal with Aurors. It wasn’t quite the trigger it use to be but she still preferred to keep her mind off such things. But Atticus’s words quickly pulled her in. Although she immediately wished that they hadn’t. Her jaw clenched and her eyes remained fixed on the words ‘Gaetan Fresnel’... She took the book from Atticus, but remained quiet, trying her best to stop her hands from inadvertently shaking, not even truly hearing his question. Her brow furrowed and her teeth grit as she read the description. It was just a handful of words under a relatively small picture. That was it. ‘The french wizard, Gaetan Fresnel, a known hit wizard and wanted for the known murder of at least one Auror.’...

A lump quickly occupied her throat as she used all of her energy to remain unmoved on the surface.

The demon of her childhood reduced to less than two dozen words. But even worse, her father was reduced to a mere footnote in a description that was no larger than a footnote. Just the nameless dead Auror. One dead body in the midst of a book full of them. Not special, not a loving father, not the world to a young girl…Just a dead Auror. Zoë forced herself to take a deep breath to quell the clambering rage that the entry offered.

“What kind of book is this? This is all they have?” Zoë said finally, a bit louder than intended as she quickly flipped through a few pages to see if there was any other mention. But no, that was all. “How can there be so little? I’m sorry Atticus but this book is definitely worthless. The authors clearly don’t know what they are even writing about…” Why did 'he' have a picture and not her father. Forever immortalized in a book where her father was an unmarked grave on an offwhite page. She could feel tears rushing to her eyes but Zoë let out a slow subtle breath to quell her heightened and overwhelming emotions. She paused and knew that her frustration was pointless. It wasn’t the damn book's fault or the authors. But that didn’t make the sudden pain any less.

“My family name…Isn’t what I would call, respected in France. Feared is a more fitting adjective. Despised at times. There are many who have stained our name, but none more than him,” Zoë said softly as her finger halted on the man’s name. Her intrusive thoughts began to grow as she felt her finger twinge, wanting so desperately to tear this page from the book and burn it. “We are kin by blood but he is no family. He took what family I did have…” Again she paused. It was not like her to be short of words. Maybe she should be happy that so little was written about him, it would mean that in time he would be forgotten. But the logic did nothing to make her feel better.

“He is a despicable man. I spent my entire childhood fearing that name. Listening for any mention or sign that I needed to be careful. Even just reading it now makes me feel a bit like a child. As if the man could do anything to me here…or anywhere for that matter.” Zoë managed a small forced smile. Her fear and loathing of the man had helped make her into a considerably powerful witch, a part of her doubted that Gaeten could possibly do anything to her now. If he was still alive that was. “I know him well,” she admitted again. “But…I have no idea what came of him since I last saw him. If you need clarity on anything before his escape from Azkaban I will of course provide you with any answers I have.” Atticus had a reason for needing to know more about Gaetan and if she could aid him in any way with his research she would do so willingly despite how sensitive the topic was. Zoë’s voice was quiet. Her eyes read the small description again and again as if it would get any better. As if her heart would magically put her father's picture and a more apt description right where her finger lay on the page.

OOTD:

Reducio

#134f5c
@Atticus Wade

Hexcode= #946F6F

Almost as soon as he asked, Atticus could tell he had made a huge mistake in his approach. Clearly the woman before him was closely attached to the person despite her desire not to be. It was a thoughtless and inconsiderate way for him to probe, and he felt truly terrible for her. A younger Atticus would've been quick to harden his heart to the words that she spoke so that he could keep himself professional and sincere, but he was wiser for the trouble now and understood that what she was sharing wasn't just her personal story, it was her trauma. Respectfully, he listened on, allowing the façade of his tenacity to slip away while allowing himself to truly feel a connection with Zoë.

Imagining the worst scenarios possible, Atticus did his best to comprehend exactly the pain behind her words. What he understood was that he was a lucky son of a gun. Not only was he lucky that his life of solitude as a wizard had allowed him the luxury of forgoing such bonds as this, but lucky that his family were abrasive and bullheaded at their best. Atticus had of course lived through grief and loss. He had hurt bad people and he had saved good folk, but he had never felt the sting of betrayal on a level so deep as this. Let alone by someone loved and trusted by his family.

It was... Unfathomable.

Doing the only righteous thing he could think of Atticus would stand up, but only for her sake. He started by seizing the book back from Miss Fresnel's grasp and flinging it into the bin nearest to them. Normally Atticus was a calm and composed figure of stability, someone who was inordinately difficult to anger, but seeing the forced nature of Zoë's otherwise beautiful smile took his heart right through the roof of his calm demeanor. "Well so long as I'm around trash like that won't be bothering us no more." Unprompted, Atticus moved over to the section he had gotten the book from and scooped the entire shelf of that same print into the bin. Even if the protesting of the store's employees drove them out, this mess needed to be damned.

Composing himself, he would offer an arm to escort Zoë out of Flourish and Blotts in a gentleman's fashion. "Care to step outside for a breath of fresh air?" His voice was cool and confident again even if while looking back over the mess he had made he sneered at the ugliness of the whole situation. It was time they passed this up. "The room has grown stale, and I think we both deserve a better venue." He might not know Zoë all that well but his mind was made up. If he ever met Gaetan, that wizard was going to be better off dead.

"Tea across the way?"

@Zoë Fresnel