EXCUSE MY EGO

florence rosier. metalworker. don't waste my time. knight.

[cyrilmalfoy]

For the last four years, Cyril Malfoy had been presumed dead after he completely disappeared. Cyril often disappeared, but the last time, not even his family or closest friends were able to contact him. He’d been kidnapped by former Grindelwald followers who were angry that he had brought in the last of the acolytes years ago. After his escape, Cyril discovered everyone thought he had died– so to keep from bringing up any more emotions, Cyril retired to a small home in Venice. Just that previous night though, Cyril received a call tipping him off that Michel Delacour was hurt. And that the Knights of Walpurgis and the Order of the Phoenix were going to need an experienced mediator as they attempted to work together against this new threat.

Cyril apparated to the site of a small pub where a supposed meeting was happening between both Knights and Order members to discuss the events of the rally. He pushed open the pub doors and smirked, “you’re telling me I only had to die for everyone to get in the same room?”

[florencerosier]

Florence was losing her patience. A meeting between the Knights and this Order would get them nowhere. If they were lucky, they’d all escape unscathed if not annoyed. She wasn’t counting on it. One hand on her wand, one hand on her glass of wine, Florence was prepared to leave the pub the second the first spell was cast. They might have been working towards a singular goal, but that didn’t mean they needed to work together. When the doors opened and Cyril Malfoy stepped through, Florence didn’t hide her annoyance. Rolling her eyes, she took a long drink from her glass. Brilliant, she thought, glaring in Riddle’s general direction. Bring in a traitor to mediate the situation.

“Surprisingly, Malfoy, this has nothing to do with you,” she responded coolly, turning her heated gaze from Riddle to Cyril. “You’ve been dead for four years. I don’t think your funeral was this well-attended.”

[ofbloodandrcses]

noelle was the type to caught up in her own work and today was no different.

in her workroom, the deep-blue liquid steamed and occasionally some of it splashed out, landing on her clothes.

she grabbed a ladle and starting to scoop small portions into the glass vials across from it.

her hands were steady but the sound of someone knocking on her door caused noelle was to jump and spill the liquid onto her book.

the woman cursed and stormed over to the door to who it was that disturbed her.

“ you know, most people would just leave when they see the ‘do not disturb’ sign”.

[florencerosier]

“i thought knocking might be more polite than apparating into your workspace,” florence replied, unperturbed by noelle’s storming. she glanced down at the younger woman, and then peered over her shoulder into the workspace, eyes squinting.

“what are you concocting today?” florence asked, her gaze returning to noelle. “and am i allowed inside, or shall we discuss business in your doorway?”

[florencerosier]

clowns, tight space, & getting old

CLOWNS: does your muse prefer comedy or horror?

florence prefers horror. it isn’t that she likes blood & gore (she doesn’t, really) but she thinks the stories are more intricate. curses, bloodlines, hauntings--well-made horror movies have a complex set of rules. she likes that.

TIGHT SPACE: does your muse ever feel like they’re not living up to their potential?

sometimes, she thinks she could be doing more. but objectively, she understands she’s doing well for herself. she’s respected in the knights, she owns her own business, she’s a pureblood. until recently, she felt unshakeable. now, of course, that’s changed.

GETTING OLD: would your muse rather live 50 years loved or 200 years alone?

this is a difficult choice. she could accomplish so much in 200 years. but ultimately, despite her wishes, florence is human. she would choose love.

[horrificmemes]

Fear-Themed Headcanon Questions

Send one (or a few) to my muse and they’ll answer: 

Spiders: Does your muse squish bugs or put them outside? The Dark: Did your muse sleep with a nightlight as a child? Snakes: Would your muse ever keep an unusual/exotic pet? Blood: What’s the worst injury your muse has ever had? Clowns: Does your muse prefer comedy? Or horror? Mirrors: What is your muse’s least favorite thing about their appearance? Tight Space: Does your muse ever feel that they’re not living up to their own potential? Closet Monsters: Does your muse hide any aspects of their personality/life from others? Crowds: What does your muse think of big cities? Death: Name one thing your muse has lost that they wish they could get back. Ghosts: Has your muse ever seen something they couldn’t explain? Needles: Does your muse have a strong stomach? Curses: Does your muse believe in good/bad luck? How about karma? Heights: Is your muse a risk-taker? Solitude: Name 3 things your muse couldn’t live without. Fire: Would your muse rather be very cold, or very hot? Failure: Has your muse ever given up on an important dream? Abandonment: How would your muse win back someone who left them? The Unknown: Is your muse a philosophical person? Boogeyman: What position does your muse sleep in? Falling: What does your muse think about falling in love or commitment?  Change: What was a turning point in your muse’s life? Disease: What does your muse do on a sick day? Number 13: Does your muse believe any superstitions?  Noise: Name one sound your muse finds absolutely unbearable. Insects: Name something your muse finds gross or annoying.  Dolls: Has your muse ever collected something? Getting Old: Would your muse rather live 50 years loved, or 200 years alone? Social Phobia: Does your muse consider themselves an outgoing person?

[rpmemes-galore]

spooky scary haunted starters … sentence starters

“Did you call me?”

“Was that a scream?”

“Did you close that door?”

“It just turned on by itself!”

“I just saw that shadow move!”

“That was definitely not the wind.”

“It sounds like someone’s in here.”

“Is that… is that a face over there?”

“I heard breathing, right in my ear!”

“Ow! Something just scratched me!”

“I swear, I’m not joking, I saw it move!”

“Does it smell like perfume/cologne to you?”

“It’s not faulty wiring, something turned it off!”

“I didn’t slam the door. I thought that was you.”

“It feels creepy in here. Can we leave, please?”

“The lights are flickering… that’s not a good sign.”

“I could’ve sworn I heard someone talking in here.”

“There’s something standing at the foot of my bed…”

“There’s no one in here. You’re just imagining things.“

“But, there’s no one else here… who’s walking upstairs?”

“Listen, you might not believe me, but I know what I saw.”

“Wait, I thought you came home earlier. I heard your voice.”

“Haha, spooky message on the mirror, very funny. You wrote it, right?”

“It was your bright idea to use a spirit board, and now look what’s happening!”

[florencerosier]

ohlestrangex·:

Athena paused for just a moment then took Florence’s hand. “I’m more than happy to take them off your hands,” she said, already feeling better. Athena hadn’t realized how much the rally had been weighing on her, and now that she had a way to deal with what had happened, it was like that weight had been lifted and suddenly she wasn’t hunched over anymore. She felt like Atlas, carrying the world on her shoulders sometimes, especially with the way that her family expected her to take over the mantle of Madam Lestrange sooner rather than later, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for it. Athena had plenty to weigh her down; she didn’t need to feel this loss of control like just another stone in her satchel any longer. 

“Test dummies?” she asked once they landed in Florence’s workshop, looking around once before she spotted them. “Planning for another war?” she asked, walking up to one and running her fingertips along its metallic shoulder. Athena hadn’t fought in the first war—losing her brother had been enough to steer her away from it—but now that she had chosen a side, she supposed it was time to dust off her dueling chops. She could feel the war brewing at the fringes; it was only a matter of time until it made it to the mainstream.

Florence smiled, giving Athena’s hand a gentle squeeze, and pulled out her wand. Moments later, they were standing in Florence’s workshop. She stepped to the doorway, ensuring it was locked, and began to make space for whatever Athena desired to do to her test dummies. She frowned slightly. If they were going to begin trainings again--and they should--they were going to need a larger space than her workshop. Hopefully, Riddle had some brilliant plan tucked away. So many of the Knights she knew were so young when the first war happened. She needed to ensure they would be truly ready when the time came. Glancing over at Athena, she nodded, watching the younger woman’s graceful hand trace over one of the shoulders.

“It’s wiser to prepare for something that never comes than be caught off-guard by an unexpected arrival,” she replied, pushing her sleeves up her arms. Once an adequate space had been cleared, she moved one of the test dummies into the center of the room. “They’re meant to withstand a few hits to mimic a true opponent,” she explained, stepping behind Athena, “but they aren’t enchanted to fight back yet. Be merciless. I’d like to know what they can take before they crumble.” This was useful research--and, she hoped, helpful for Athena. Florence knew better than to get caught in the crossfire of the high society purebloods. Her family was well-respected, but the social aspect of purity had never interested Florence. She had cousins to carry on the bloodline. But Athena seemed to walk around with all the pressure from her parents like heavy armor. It steeled her and seemed to weigh on her. Florence didn’t envy Athena in that regard. She reached into a nearby drawer, pulling out a small notepad and quill. “Whenever you’re ready.”

[florencerosier]

flcamont·:

///

Monty tilted his head to the side, thoughtful for a moment. He pressed his fingertips together lightly in his lap, considering her offer. They certainly weren’t on the best of terms—he had heard plenty of rumors about Florence and her potential involvement with a darker side of their community, though nothing had been verified—and it made him wonder why she would want to put forth any sort of effort towards making the disaster from the previous week less of a mess. Then again, he supposed any threat to magic would be a threat to them all, regardless of which side of the war they were on. “There are some strange metal things from around the arena,” he said. “The muggle artefacts office calls them ‘antenna,’ but I wonder if someone with your expertise would be better equipped to say if they were involved in what happened.” He paused. “I’ll have to talk to the Head Auror, but it might be useful to have you take a look at them.” 

//

Florence waited patiently. She examined him closely, making a mental note to sift through her files when she went back to her office. It would be useful to know all of his weak points, what tethered him to the world, what he would fight for when it came down to that. Perhaps Max would have some knowledge. Her face was carefully arranged in an expression of neutrality, but inside, she felt confident. Even if he believed her to be on the opposite side of his belief system--and she was, of course, no doubt about that--her reputation would proceed her. She was damn good at her job. Finally, he spoke, and Florence leaned in. Antenna. Interesting. She nodded, allowing a smile to break over her mouth. “I would love to take a look at them. If he enchanted them in anyway, I’d certainly be able to figure out how he did so.” This was the closest she’d gotten to feeling useful, and she had to admit, she was excited. The next step in the process. “I’m happy to work alongside a member of the Ministry, if it would make your Head Auror feel more comfortable.” She wanted to appear cooperative. Florence wanted nothing to jeopardize this opportunity.

[maximmulciber]

[ @florencerosier reacted for a starter! ]

Maxim was sitting at his desk in the Ministry late one evening when he saw the little metal charm that Florence had made for him flashing—there was news, and he should get over to her metal charming workshop soon. He picked up the flashing medallion and tucked it into his pocket. While he disliked leaving work unfinished, he also would drop anything and everything for Florence whenever she called, so that was exactly what he did. He slipped on his coat and walked the short distance between the Ministry and Florence’s workshop, rubbing his hands together in the cold before approaching her door and knocking on it sharply. 

“Bozhe moy, it’s awful out here,” he said. While he was used to the cold, the rain was something he had yet to grow accustomed to, and frankly, he hated it. He shifted from side to side, waiting for Florence to open the door before he held up the medallion. “You called. I came.” It could have just been Florence wanted Maxim to come by because they hadn’t seen each other in a while—work had been crazy for him since the rally—and Maxim would be perfectly fine with that, too.

[florencerosier]

She had been working for what felt like hours. Word of the rally had spread like wildfire, and Florence had been bombarded with requests. Most wix wanted some sort of magical amulet, charmed to protect them and their magic. She told every single person who’d come to her that such protections didn’t exist. It wasn’t her job to soothe the fears of the general public, even those who could pay exorbitant amounts of gold. It didn’t make her particularly popular, but Florence didn’t make a name for herself off her winning personality. Still, she was exhausted by the letters and the owls and the never-ending requests--not to mention, she had been trying to figure out some sort of protection. If they were going to hunt down this man, they would need to be able to defend themselves from his tricks. But she was no closer to finding a solution than she had been at the start of the day, and she needed a break.

It didn’t take long for the knock to come on her door. She smiled, softly, her shoulders already dropping with relief. She moved quickly, not wanting to keep Max out in the rain. Throwing the door open, Florence leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Come in,” she said, stepping aside so he could do so. “I needed a break. It felt silly to drink alone when you might have been close by.” She closed the door behind him and flicked her wand, a decanter of firewhiskey pouring two neat drinks. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting any important Ministry work.”

[florencerosier]

pfinchfletchley·:

///

As much as Phoebe disliked Florence, even she had to admit to Florence’s skill. Florence was a talented witch, and Phoebe would have been wise to make sure that she was keeping an eye on her.There was no telling how she might be involved in the new brewing conflict, but Phoebe would have been naive to think that she wouldn’t have a role at all. Phoebe had never been to worried about other people who were on Grindelwald’s side of the war last time—most of them were young and easy to beat in a fight—but Florence had always given Phoebe a run for her money. She was quick-witted, intelligent, and extremely talented with her magic. Suffice it to say that Phoebe wished Florence nothing but ill. 

Phoebe gave Florence a fake smile. “Oh, I’ll be sure to,” she replied, shaking her head as she looked down at her notebook once more before stowing it in her bag. At Florence’s laughter, she couldn’t help but feel a little jarred, if only because this may have been the first civil conversation they had ever had. It was unnerving, knowing that they were on the same side of an issue. “Oh, it was wonderful,” she replied. “Certainly something to behold. I was fairly certain that vein in Abraxas’ temple was going to burst out from under his skin.” 

She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “That’s the problem. Everyone I’ve talked to doesn’t know who it was,” she said. “And he wasn’t wearing a mask or anything. Maybe he charmed his appearance, but even so, what would he gain from that? It was clear he wanted to make some sort of public debut.” Phoebe bit down on her lip thoughtfully. “Until we figure out who he is, we’re not going to be able to work against him.” 

//

“I’m sure I’m more skilled than whoever you’re working alongside,” Florence replied coolly, her eyes flickering over the buildings of Diagon Alley. It was, of course, a multi-layered jab. Florence wasn’t sure if Phoebe did her consulting work with a team of underlings--she didn’t particularly care--but she was sure none of them matched her in skill or wit. The weight of the investigation would be entirely on Phoebe’s shoulders, and a stressed Finch-Fletchley was Florence’s favorite kind. Underneath that, of course, lay the veiled reference to Phoebe’s time with Dumbledore. Florence was certain that the old bat hadn’t simply retired after defeating Grindelwald. Surely, he had some sort of collection of do-gooders readying themselves to fight against this new force. Surely, Phoebe would be among them. A snivelling band of kind-hearted wix, bolstered by their victory against the falliable Grindelwald, ready to charge headfirst into this new war. Merlin save them. “And you know how to get a hold of me.”

Her smile widened, perfectly pleased at the thought of Abraxas’s infuriating face pulsing with anger. He was on her side, but his pride made him insufferable to Florence. She had thought Charis would have made a better minister, but Riddle thought a woman would draw too much attention, too much ire. “It would have been a shame if it had burst,” she replied, amusement sparkling in her eyes. “You’d have gotten blood all over that lovely coat.”

Florence nodded. The Knights had reported similar things--the man had been plain, boring, unrecognizable. “Still,” Florence started, “he knows about magic. I suppose it could be a muggle, but they don’t strike me as the clever or scheming types. Too stupid to have pulled off something like this. Whoever it was must have been a wizard. Or wizard-adjacent.” She thought about it for a moment more, running over the theories she’d been toying with for the past few days. “If he didn’t disguise himself, it would be because he was certain no one would recognize or remember him, or because he wanted to be remembered. He isn’t afraid of us. A mistake, of course,” she said, her voice turning to steel, “but one that could lead to his downfall.”

[florencerosier]

ohlestrangex·:

///

Athena paused for a moment before nodding. “Can we go just hex the shit out of something?” She wanted nothing more than to feel her magic coursing through her veins again, to feel like she was in control again. Athena was always so carefully controlled, to feel so far out of control and removed from herself had not only been jarring, but it had put her in a position that she wasn’t used to being in. She had no way to deal with it, and that was clear. It was exactly why she felt like she did when her brother died—that lack of control over her situation was infuriating. She wanted to feel powerful. She wanted to feel like she could be the formidable witch she had always been. 

She let out a sigh. “I know,” she replied. “Thank you.” She sounded sincere—or maybe that was just the whiskey talking—but regardless, it was important to her that Florence was there. Athena didn’t receive this kind of mentorship or care from anyone else, not even her mother, who had always been grooming her for leadership. Athena never felt as cared for as she did with Florence looking at her like that. 

Florence nodded, the ghost of a smile floating across her face before disappearing entirely. She pushed off of the desk, standing upright, and held her hand out to Athena. “I can apparate us to my workspace. There are a few things there you can obliterate.” Athena’s trust meant the world to Florence. She had left the idea of a biological family behind a long time ago. In her line of work, children and spouses felt like little more than weak points to be exploited. She supposed, in her own way, she’d transferred whatever maternal urges she could have possessed onto the young women of the Knights. It infuriated her that they had been violated so violently, and that she was as useless as the aurors in discovering who had done it. The least she could do was provide Athena the opportunity to feel powerful again.

“Of course.” Her voice was even, her tone smooth, but underneath it all was a fierce care. “I’ve been tinkering with a few test dummies. It’d only feel appropriate for you to be the first to test them out.” If there was going to be another war--and it was looking more and more like that was the case--they would need to be prepared. Training was paramount.

[florencerosier]

flcamont·:

///

He tapped the large tome next to him. “Just a bit of light reading,” he joked casually before leaning back in his seat. “Now, tell me. What brings you to the Auror Office this afternoon? I’ve rarely seen you stray from your work in other departments.” He was certain it had something to do with the rally, and it was going to be somewhat humiliating to have to admit that they didn’t have anything yet, but he figured he would have to get used to it. People assumed that just because he was an auror, he would have the answers to everything, but Fleamont was often left with more questions than answers after something like what happened just a few days ago and he would just have to get used to saying that to people. It would suck, but he just had to bite the bullet and get it done. Besides, he was certain they would have something soon. He didn’t know what he’d do if they didn’t. 

//

She arched a single eyebrow, but said nothing in response to his joke, instead letting her gaze flicker to the spine, hoping to catch sight of the title. Florence pressed her lips into a polite smile, mimicking his movements and leaning back into her chair herself. He was right, of course. It wasn’t often she made personal visits to the aurors offices. It never felt like the benefits outweighed the risks, and as she’d gotten older, Florence didn’t often lean into risks. Of course, it felt as if all that was about to go out the window -- something violent was brewing, and she had a feeling that this time, she’d be more hands-on than before. “I thought perhaps I would come offer my services,” she replied, cutting straight to the heart of the matter. Florence wasn’t one for small talk -- not with Aurors, especially -- and she didn’t want to waste any time. “I imagine it’s a bit unorthodox, but I can’t imagine much progress has been made in hunting down the suspect or figuring out how he did what he did.” She paused, examining his face for a moment. “I think I could help.”

[florencerosier]

pfinchfletchley·:

///

Ever since the previous war, Florence and Phoebe had an animosity that was a rivalry to match even that between Grindelwald and Dumbledore. The two of them had been high in the ranks for their sides of the war, and currently were high in the ranks again, though they were not sure of the other’s involvement. Regardless, Phoebe didn’t trust Florence for a second, and she didn’t doubt that Florence didn’t trust her, either. 

She was startled by Florence’s appearance, but managed to only show it in a slight twitch in the corner of her lips, her expression pulling down into a thoughtful frown again. She glanced over her notes, clearly stalling before speaking to Florence—if only because she knew the disrespect would be infuriating—before closing her leather-bound notebook and looking up at Florence. Say what you will: evil, at least, suited her. She was looking better than Phoebe had expected, and that made Phoebe even angrier. 

“Not yet,” she replied. “Whoever it was, was particularly good at covering their tracks.” Regardless of what side of the current conflict they were on, none of it was going to matter if they all lost their magic. There was no harm in sharing this information. “Not at all,” Phoebe said, just a hint of a smirk curving at her lips. “He never is.” 

//

To most, Phoebe Finch-Fletchley was a name that commanded respect. Even among a few of the Knights. Her achievements during the wizarding war had garnered her a reputation of bravery and ingenuity. It was unfortunate she had decided to squander her talents under Dumbledore. Her do-good desires rankled Florence - and though she’d never admitted it out loud, Phoebe gave her a run for her money in terms of talent and cleverness. Most of Dumbledore’s bumbling sycophants were mere shadows to Florence, cowering, posturing wix meant to simply be stepped over. But Phoebe? Phoebe couldn’t be simply stepped over. Phoebe had to be respected, even begrudgingly.

Florence didn’t like Phoebe.

Case in point: the other woman waited a few moments, probably only pretending to skim her notes before addressing Florence. When Phoebe finally closed her notebook and looked at her, she smiled, a warm and polite fuck you sparkling in her eyes. She tutted, looking back at the arena. “Shame. If you want some help, all you have to do is ask.” Her smile grew genuine with amusement at the thought of Phoebe stooping to ask Florence for help. In spite of herself, she let out a laugh. Florence didn’t much care for Abraxas. In her eyes, he was an arrogant idiot, too happy to play Riddle’s Ministry puppet. “To be a fly on the wall for that conversation,” she mused. An air of seriousness settled over her. If Phoebe hadn’t found anything, it probably meant that there was very little to be found. Whoever was behind this, they were good. That worried her.

“Do you think it’s someone we know?”

[florencerosier]

ohlestrangex·:

///

This was why Athena never told anyone about what she was feeling. It was that look—the pity, the sadness. She hated it. She hated being treated like she was anything but the brilliant witch she knew she was, hated being treated as though she needed saving. She knew, however, deeper down, that Florence wasn’t actually treating her like that. She wasn’t looking down at Athena, she was looking through her, understanding why she was the way she was and understanding what she needed in order to make it through this in one piece. Athena hadn’t expected the events of the rally to shake her so deeply, but being without her magic was a feeling she never wanted to get accustomed to. 

She paused, pursing her lips thoughtfully. “I…I broke things. A lot of things.” She had broken many delicate instruments in the charms classroom, had thrown her books off the astronomy tower, had destroyed her dorm room in Ravenclaw, all because she needed some way to vent all of the anger and frustration and pain that had come along with Nico’s death. 

//

Florence listened carefully as Athena spoke, a wry smile twitching on her lips at the thought of Athena destroying pieces of Hogwarts in grief. She understood the impulse. It was cathartic to make things on the outside look how one felt on the inside. "Would you like to break things now?” She didn’t want to be presumptuous, but if it would help the younger woman move through her grief, Florence had plenty of scrapped items at her workshop. Magic was wonderful for quick clean-up. She had been thinking a lot about how much she relied on magic, how much it was a part of her as her clever mind and her steady hands and her ability to move around without any help. Even now, in seeking solutions, it played a necessary role. She wasn’t sure how the loss - and regaining - of magic compared to losing a sibling. She hadn’t experienced either.

“Regardless, I think perhaps you should take a break from your work. I’d be happy to escort you home for another drink, or you can smash up a few things in my workshop, or we can sit here, talking or in silence.” Florence looked at Athena, pressing her lips together in a flat line, before reaching out, resting her hand almost tenderly on Athena’s shoulder. “I want to help you.”

[florencerosier]

flcamont·:

///

Fleamont had been swamped with work ever since the rally. He hadn’t been sleeping very much, oftentimes bringing files home from work and working late into the night, sitting up in bed with a light shining from his wand and illuminating the parchments in front of him. That day, he had been poring over research on the origins and energy behind magic, the place where magic came from and the place where it would go. It was all about transformation of energy, Fleamont was finding out, but as he got more into the nitty gritty of the science behind magic, he was starting to feel like his brain was oozing out of his ears. He closed the book in front of him and sighed, rubbing his forehead once and looking out at the bullpen outside of his office. He and Lyall, being senior aurors, had their own offices, but the junior aurors all made do with desks in the large area of the office outside. 

He watched as Florence approached across the bullpen, his curiosity piqued the instant he saw her. It wasn’t necessarily unusual to see a metal-charmer of her caliber around the Ministry, as the Ministry often hired some of their more complicated spellwork out to private contractors such as Florence, but she rarely made an appearance in the Auror Office. “Yes, Madam Rosier, please take a seat,” he said, standing up and reaching a hand out to shake.

//

Florence smiled, reaching out and shaking his proffered hand. She sank into the chair opposite him, her eyes flickering over his desk, taking note of a few of the headings on the papers spread out in front of him. Old habit. She wasn’t here on Riddle’s request, and she planned on keeping any information she learned today to herself. She was beginning to have her doubts about Riddle. He was afraid - rightfully so - but his fear was making him consider making alliances with those who would normally disagree with the Knights and their methods. Florence thought it was weakness, similar to what led Grindelwald to his defeat. All this, of course, she kept to herself. No need to include others on her doubts. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting you.” She said, tilting her head towards Fleamont’s desk. “Were you working on something important?”

[florencerosier]

[ @flcamont​ ]

It had been awhile since Florence had walked through the halls of the Ministry. As a young woman, she’d spent most of her time here, making small metal charms alongside a handful of other bright young women. She had, of course, been using the time to gather information for Grindelwald, but there was no reason for anyone to suspect her of that. She’d been very careful. She’d left the Ministry a few years after Grindelwald had fallen to Dumbledore and had tried her best to maintain a professional working relationship with the people inside the building. It was those professional working relationships that got her inside today. The Ministry was busy, as she’d anticipated. A lot of people milling about trying to solve the same mystery she was. It was what had brought her here.

She arrived in front of the Auror’s office, his name neatly embossed on the wood. Fleamont Potter. He’d been one of the Aurors assigned to the event - one of a few, if Florence’s intel was correct. The rumors about Auror Lupin left him less than desirable to interact with, so Florence was here, hoping she could get some more information from a source that wasn’t as close to her. She knocked twice. “Auror Potter? I was hoping to ask you a few questions.”

[florencerosier]

ohlestrangex·:

///

Florence had a good point, one that Athena hadn’t been willing to admit to herself thus far. She sat down heavily behind her desk, the chair facing the back wall for a moment before she turned and finally looked at Florence. “No,” she admitted. She thought that throwing herself back into her work would be enough to snap her out of the funk she had been in ever since the rally, but it only seemed to be getting worse, not better. Her hands shook and she folded them in her lap. “I haven’t felt like this since Nico died.” Then, she had been young, destroying her dorm room at Hogwarts and pushing everyone away. She didn’t know how to handle overwhelming emotion then, and she didn’t know how to handle it now, either.

Athena didn’t admit to much. She liked to pretend that nothing could touch her, like nothing could faze her, but in actuality, she felt deeply. She felt deeply and keenly and it was difficult for her to pretend that what she was dealing with wasn’t weighing heavily on her mind. The fear and chaos of the day had brought up plenty of feelings she had been doing her best to repress, and it hadn’t been working.

///

Florence nodded, a small dip of her head, as Athena moved to sit. She said nothing, waiting patiently through the silence as the young woman moved through what Florence was sure was a myriad of emotions. Athena’s soft and quiet no was all the confirmation that Florence needed. She turned, slightly, folding her hands in her lap. Too many wix these days believed that the only way to accomplish a goal was to run through the obstacles headfirst. If they were going to solve the intricate puzzle that lay before them, they were going to need to do it with a clear head. Florence pressed her lips together when Athena mentioned Nico. She knew, of course, about the boy and his death -- but the details of it were unknown to her. Florence looked over, taking in the other woman. She felt a particular allegiance to the young women of the Knights. The men, she found, sort of bored her. The women were clever, intelligent, ferocious witches who seemed to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders.

"When you lost your brother,” Florence started, her voice quiet and calm, “what helped you express your grief?”

[pfinchfletchley]

As the foremost magical security consultant, Phoebe spent a lot of her time assessing situations that went wrong—when they weren’t smart enough to hire her in the first place, the Ministry would come to her to assist the aurors in addressing security issues. Of course, with Abraxas in power, her contracts from the Ministry had grown few and far between, but after the rally, it had turned into an all-hands-on-deck situation. 

Phoebe circled the area where the arena had been set up, following the lines of the structure as she looked for any indication of what exactly had happened there the day before. She looked up and down the structure, her brow furrowing in concentration as she flipped open a worn, leather-bound notebook and jotted down a few more notes.

[florencerosier]

Florence wasn’t here on official Knights business. Rarely did she ever perform reconnaissance - Riddle knew better than to ask her to do such a menial task - but her curiosity was starting to get the better of her. She considered herself far more clever than the Ministry’s merry band of idiot Aurors, and she was sure they would have left behind a few clues they were too dense to pick up. Whoever had done this was smart -- nearly as smart as she. When she arrived in Diagon Alley, she wasn’t surprised to discover that nearly all the posters had been scrubbed from the walls. Whether that was the Ministry’s attempt at peace or the part of the perpetrator’s plan, Florence wasn’t sure. As she drew closer to the site where the rally had been held, she wasn’t surprised to see Phoebe Finch-Fletchley. She moved silently, waiting until she was right next to the woman to speak.

“Find anything good?” She was hoping to startle Phoebe. She liked to take small wins, in that way, but she kept her eyes on the building in front of them, hands in her pocket. To anyone else, Florence would appear as simply a bystander, asking well-meaning questions of London’s foremost magical security consultant. “Can’t imagine Abraxas was pleased to call you in.”