She was immediately greeted by the ever-pleasant blonde, the younger of the Goldstein sisters. She was a shining beacon of kindness in a world that was otherwise outright hostile, and Sam adored her.
"You brought tea," Queenie said sweetly. "Thank you! Oh, it'll clear our lungs? How helpful. Tina I'm sure it will taste delightful, don't make that face."
Tina demanded huffily, "Stop reading my mind! Thank you, Sam."
The woman nodded and moved around the room, offering the tray and steaming mugs. The Scamander man eyed it suspiciously for a few minutes before deciding to accept. He sipped it with one pink held aloft, and Queenie proceeded to berate him for his manners. He raised his brow in a question, mentally questioning the Americans and their lack of refinery.
Sam giggled quietly at the blonde and turned, offered the final mug, cheeks feeling like fire as she managed for once to meet Percival's eyes. She greeted their guest softly, murmuring, "Hello Director."
He returned her sentiment with a polite nod, and a look that wasn't altogether hostility. He wouldn't admit it, not even to himself, but he didn't consider the woman a threat to wizardkind, nor to anyone else. On the few occasions she came to their headquarters to drop lunch off to her aunt… she was quiet. Somber. Despite being surrounded by those who hated her, she never showed aggression. It was endearing, in a way.
He took a long drink of his tea. The haze in his lungs and throat cleared in a cloud that rose from his lips to the air, dispersing until it was nothing.
Once everyone no longer sounded like a backroom jazz singer, the elder Goldstein stood.
"We need to get everything out now," Tina spoke up. "Before we forget. The evidence is crucial at this point. Sam, does your aunt have a magical bowl? She would store it somewhere safe. Perhaps besides some marked vials. They'd be no more than a finger's size. Holding silver strands pulled from her temple."
"A Pensive," Sam murmured. "I know what it is." She didn't mean for her words to be as snappy as they were. She disliked the patronizing way the Goldstein spoke to her. She knew the woman meant no harm, but it was nevertheless irritating.
With a slight blush, she apologized and nodded, exiting the room to find the appropriate item. Though her aunt didn't live in the mansion with her (claiming it held bad memories, a laughable thing), she had a whole floor of rooms she dedicated to magic. Potions, transfiguration… the squib knew them all. Years ago, she'd assisted Delia in her experiments. Now, she gave them a wide berth. Not for the dangerous elements. For the mental distress they wrought.
When she returned they were speaking in quiet, serious tones. She was ashamed of her words. People might be dead. It was no place to act out.
She set the bowl atop the table and laid beside it a half dozen vials. "Will that be enough? She has more, if need be."
Theseus murmured something in assent and sighed, raising his wand to his temple. A silver strand came free. Sam watched, enraptured. Her features were a mask of calm, disinterest. They had to be. If anyone knew how she still loved the art, they'd laugh in pity.
When the strand broke free he dropped it into the bowl and touched a finger to the surface.
She made a face as he was sucked in. A dozen questions swam in mind. Were memories objective or subjective? If the bowl spilled, would they be let out? Was Pensieve evidence admissible in court?
One by one, the others followed. The room cleared and she was left in silence, wondering what the memory world looked like.
It began with a hum that the assorted wizards were quick to notice. Expressions of confusion and mild interest crossed the Auror's faces, though none looked overly concerned. It didn't fade. Much the opposite, it progressively grew louder in pitch and volume.
At the front of the auditorium a brunette witch pursed her lips, huffing at the interruption. She was already on thin ice with her fellow peers, and was miffed at the idea that her presentation might be regarded in ill-manner, or forgotten due to this anomaly.
"As I was saying," Tina continued. "She has adopted two new children. One of whom is a Barebone descendant. Now, it's likely he's a squib-"
The hum rose sharply in volume once more. It was now impossible to ignore. A murmur rolled through the crowd. One witch muttered something about the Experimental Spells crew, who'd taken over the adjacent hall that day to show off their new charms.
"People in the crowd were talking about the smell of gunpowder," Theseus murmured. He'd come to stand beside his doppleganger, both of whom were peering out the doorway.
Beyond the room, witches and wizards had halted to look about. The hum seemed to be coming from across the way in another meeting hall, and one goblin sighed as he walked over to the offending door, a hand out to open it.
"Arresto momentum." Tina flicked her wand, bringing the scene to a slow. "Queenie, could you hear that from basement?"
"Yes," Queenie murmured. "As well as the malice from the perpetrator. It was so strong."
Delia turned away from the cloud of fire she knew was to follow. It came from the smallest of the meeting halls, unlikely to be used on a day like this. Someone knew where to strike and when.
It seemed Percival had come to same conclusion. He said lowly, "We have a mole. No muggle could have done this unaided."
As he spoke, the fire spread and curled through the hall. Most witches and wizards were fast enough to Apperate away, but it looked like a few had been…
"Rhododendron," Tina sighed. She watched as a young redhead was swept away in the intense heat, an expression of terror becoming her last as the flames turned white hot.
"A wizard aided muggle. Early morning. Did the house elves get away?" Theseus crouched to watch the scene advance. Employees evacuated in a frenzy, some coming back with visible wounds. There was nowhere safe to go. They were lucky this household was safe.
"Yes," Tina answered. She walked about, making small observations about the scene. She wasn't the observer that Graves and Queenie were, but she knew enough. She had learned enough. However, she still passed on every thought to her sister. She trusted her judgement above all.
Queenie proved immensely helpful. Truth of the matter was that they didn't have much evidence to gather. In their narrow mindsets, they assumed the perpetrator, and subconsciously selecting evidence that fit the bill. It wouldn't be until the scene was safe to return to would they think otherwise.
The younger Goldstein, however, felt otherwise. There was something notably off about the affair. She was strong enough that even here, in a memory, the emotions still whispered.
"Something is wrong," she announced once they left the memory. Time had passed. The sun was sitting on the horizon, filling the room with a brilliant and warm light. From somewhere down the hall came the scent of coffee.
Theseus gave a sniff and huff. His dark eyes focused on his tall American companion. A silent message seemed to pass between them, because the Commander responded momentarily.
"Yes. We'll investigate once Madam President sends word it's safe. For now… there are too many possibilities. Our homes aren't safe. MACUSA isn't safe. Laying low is our safest option."
Tina left the group for the kitchen, peering into the quiet as she looked for her the origin of the awakening liquid. The room was empty, but there was a note beside the still percolating coffee maker.
'Guests,
The second floor is dedicated solely to magical study. Use it (and the rest of the house) as you need. If you need me, I'll be in the penthouse.'
She poured a tall mug of the steaming beverage and breathed. Attempting to hold herself together. Now was not the time for tears. That would come later, once they assured the safety of their friends and colleagues.
Queenie was there in moments. Of course, she was. Somehow, she withstood the feelings and worries and terrors of so many others, and yet she never wavered in her kindness and apathy.
"We'll get through this, career girl," she murmured. She drew her sister into a hug, humming as she did so. A small tune their mother once sang, on dark and stormy days.
"Let's get to work," Tina said as they broke apart. "When Delia comes back, we return to MACUSA."
Queenie took her arm and led her back to the sitting room. They had work to do. Lives to save. She hadn't read her sister's mind since the attack, but a similar thought occurred to her as they rejoined their friends.
'now is not the time for sniffles. we must be strong.'
