Um… Trigger warning for mention of an attempt to murder a child.

I'll be out of town this weekend, so this is going up several days early. I also finalized the family tree for Audrey's paternal family for this chapter too. Updates will be on their regular two week schedule going forward.

February 18, 1997

"Audrey," Elihu leaned against the wall and sipped at his traveler's mug of coffee. Percy and the Minister were finishing a meeting in the Minister's Office and Umbridge had closed the door to her office to do some paperwork. "Can I have a moment of your time?"

This sounded serious.

I stood up and waved him back out of the doorway to lead him to the break room. If we were bothered, I could just say I was getting him more coffee. Everyone knew I hid my favorite creamers.

The walk to the break room was filled with idle chatter, but I knew Elihu better than to let his cynical views of British weather act as a curtain. I had not had a chance to speak with Elihu in person for a couple of weeks, our exchanges of letters were generally related to history and current affairs, both British and American, and whatever political theory I was reading about that week. This week was fascism.

We stepped into the break room and I began to check my coffee press and start it for a fresh pot while Elihu looked around the room and took a deep breath, finally speaking as I poured the water in to allow the coffee to steep.

"This is awkward," Elihu began to speak in a low, embarrassed tone as I moved my mortar and pestle for my coffee grounds aside and gave him my full attention, "but your father has compelled me to ask by promising that I will not know peace again if I do not. I know. I'm sorry. Believe me this is far more awkward for me than it is for you." Elihu took another deep breath. "You're not staying in this country for a boy are you?"

I needed to pick my mouth up from the floor but was too shocked to even manage that.

"What?"

Elihu looked deeply uncomfortable. "I'm asking to get him off my ass, believe me I've been putting this off and I don't believe this is in any part of my job description. I checked. Twice."

"Who does he think I'm seeing?"

Elihu looked increasingly uncomfortable and instead of speaking he pointed his thumb towards the direction of the office. "Um…"

I thought back to my meeting with Jack at the gala to fill in Elihu's awkwardness over the matter and inhaled sharply through my teeth, the hissing noise sounding like steam from a boiling tea kettle.

Great.

Fantastic.

I knew the lies would come, but I didn't think I'd have to do it to Elihu's face in this manner.

"Does my father find me stupid?"

Elihu winced, his desire to not have anything close to this conversation was all over his face.

"Elihu, why ask when you know the answer, which is no. There is no involvement of any sort and my father continues to see things that do not exist aside from his own paranoia and misplaced concern. I'm struggling to understand why he is concerned considering our estrangement."

Lying to Elihu sucks. He keeps giving me his lawyer stare, as if he can sense the duplicity that Umbridge and Scrimgeour can't. The hardness of his eyes is at war with his experience in the courtroom and his knowledge of me. I hoped the latter would win out enough for us to move on.

Something won out, but I wasn't sure what and he stepped back with a more relaxed expression. "I believe you. You're not the type to mix business and pleasure."

You hold onto that idea, Elihu.

"As to the why," Elihu pulled two letters out of his pocket and handed them to me. They were dated from late December, I had been busy running errands for the office and had not had a chance to see Elihu when he met with the Minister in his own office, nor had he enjoyed the chance to see me on other occasions due to having meetings with other departments.

'I have come to the conclusion that Audrey is staying in that crumbling country for a boy… I have some questions, namely about that young man you complain about in your weekly reports… I had suspicions some time ago, a young man coming up from nothing who you seemed to imply was far too friendly with Audrey… 'As poor as a Weasley'... A top student at Hogwarts, Head Boy (I will not make the joke), and his first job ended in an inquiry… took full control of a powerful Ministry office for several months without anyone noticing…. According to your predecessor… he has been a long term pain in the ass… over-ambitious clerk and an unrestrained policy wonk… Please, send anything else you know about this Percy Weasley ASAP.'

By the fucking Twelve!

"Why Percy of all people?"

I hoped that sounded as dismissive and confused as I hoped it would.

"Uh, well… he apparently rankled the old MACUSA representative when he was working in International Magical Cooperation. Refused to break policy to be useful basically and Upton generally has no patience for teenagers."

I raised an eyebrow, I didn't know Elihu's predecessor for the position, Richard Upton and my father ran in different circles. Upton was older, from another party and had spent the last ten years running the embassy office in London, so his path had never crossed with mine. Elihu had mentioned in a letter that he was sure Upton had a bit of say in his replacement and was also very burned out on the post after serving for so long.

"I'll need more clarification than that."

"I like to write and I have space to fill on the meeting reports… I may have mentioned that I saw you two talking in a few of them. These reports are like journal entries, I didn't just get this job because I know about international political law, Cunningham sent me here because of all of my detailed reports. I'm good at including names, items of interest, just a bunch of little things that could be useful later." He meant gossip, but I wasn't going to correct him. "This isn't something I should mention because of your position here, but well… you know what it is."

I gave Elihu the most vicious look I could muster and prayed I looked like my father in the moment. The ability to look like a large, fierce thing the way my father and Alex had no problem doing. Elihu's impassive and awkward expression told me I was unsuccessful. Well, at least now I could put my father's comment at the gala into context, he was several days too soon in his assumption but it did explain partially why he said what he did about Percy being an over-ambitious clerk.

"When I didn't answer him, he asked your cousin who, while willing to defy your father, is not dumb enough or secure enough in his career to do so right now.

Quincy would not risk being separated from Cassandra. Though, Quincy being out of Jack's hair overseas was more of a boon for Jack than having Quincy at home to be a pest. I doubted Quincy could see that in the heat of the moment of getting a letter from his uncle. Quincy knew he was not my father's favorite anything, though being favored by our grandfather offered him a lot of leeway in other ways.

"Tell my father that I am staying because I want to. If he asks for a reason, tell him I'm enjoying this show of government competence." My tone was sarcastic and cutting, I was as fed up with this nonsense as Elihu was. Honestly, the nerve of Jack Graves was not something I wanted turned in my direction again.

"I will be sure to do that. Sorry about all of this."

"No trouble, I'm just sorry you're stuck in the middle of this family drama."

Elihu shrugged, his grin both lazy and relieved. "I'm very entertained by it and intend to add it to my memoir. If Jack wants a legacy, I'll help him get one that's actually interesting."

The laughter that poured out of me was hearty and genuine.

"He's such a clown!" Elihu choked out before his laughter began to overtake him. "Really! Just completely out of his cauldron!"

A knock on the door frame caught our attention, Percy was looking between the two of us with a stern expression, his gaze mostly focused on Elihu.

"The Minister is ready to see you."

"Perfect timing, Weasley, as always." Elihu moved to the coffee press to top off his traveler's mug with a grin. "I'll be there in just a minute."

"Creamer's in the top cabinet behind the napkins," I said to Elihu's back as I allowed myself a moment to look at Percy and give him a smile the way I couldn't when we were in the office. The corner of Percy's mouth moved upwards for a sliver of a moment as I stole his attention from glaring at Elihu's back.

"I'll inform the Minister you'll be there momentarily," Percy's tone was short and professional before he slipped out of sight. I could hear his feet growing fainter down the hallway.

Elihu's voice cut through me like a sudden cold wind. "I think your father is wrong in this, I don't think he's your type at all."

He shook my shoulder with a chuckle as he passed by me to return to the Minister's office for his meeting.

I felt like if I told Elihu about being involved with Percy he would probably have a stroke for a whole host of reasons.

Oo0Oo0

February 22, 1997

Quincy and Cassandra both received a stipend from the MACUSA Embassy to fund a place for them to live. The idea was it would be used for individual Aurors, generally people did not want to live with their coworkers, but Quincy and Cassandra were very engaged and very in love, so it surprised no one when they told the secretary they needed the rental paperwork filed for the same address after the war on Voldemort was officially declared.

The secretary won a sickle from 1882 from Auror Hanlon for her coin collection for predicting the correct date of their filing. Her claims of seer blood were diminished by her lack of foresight on the rise of a dark wizard being the catalyst.

Aurors Jenkins and Mankiller had agreed to be roommates, it felt safer as they both stood out for their accents and general appearance marking them as foreigners. I imagined they sat around and talked about hunting in their off-time and comparing the antler points on their deer. I understood none of those discussions, I just knew more points was a better trophy and there was an elusive fifteen point on a magical reserve and that the pair had been trying to hunt it for almost three years, luckily the creature was a bit intelligent.

The last time I had a chance to speak with Mankiller, he said they were planning to apply for a raffle to hunt grizzlies in Alaska on their first vacation in the States when they finished their posting assignment at the Embassy. Something to look forward too. I did not understand the appeal of living in a tent in Alaska for a month but different strokes for different folks, I guess.

Cassandra was cooking something in a large pot on the stove, something spicy that smelled like seafood. I was sure she was making gumbo, but I didn't think it would be like the one Aunt Araminta made back in New Orleans, all the heat and spice that would make my nose run and make me beg for a drink of milk to chase it down. Uncle John made his a bit more mild because, as he put it, he refused to breathe fire like a dragon.

I curled up in the armchair as Quincy examined the grimoire that Alex gave me with an incredulous expression.

"I still can't believe you found him. Let alone saw him twice! That's amazing!" He turned the book over and examined the cover, prodding it with his wand to make sparks fly into the air from the magical contact. "Alex put his own spells over grandpa's, I'll need a few minutes to sort them out."

"That's fine, take as long as you need."

"I'm shocked you never got your own copy," Cassandra stepped out of the kitchen, her blonde hair was pulled back in a long plait down her back. Cassandra Barebone was a very pretty woman with sparkling eyes and a crooked, confident smile. Her black sweater contrasted her pale appearance in a dramatic fashion and I noted the new secondary piercings in her ears. I would have to find her some earrings for her next birthday. "Alex and Quincy got theirs, I thought you would at least get one yourself."

"Alex and Quincy were actually good at dueling," I pointed out, managing not to sound bitter about the matter. "It's fine."

Quincy scoffed, "Grandpa was having us practice with you, we were bigger and more experienced, you were never going to do well in his eyes under those circumstances. You got a good blood boiling hex off on me once, but we're too nice to actually hit me with it."

"It's all a bit of a blur, really."

"Probably from all those times I put you in the dirt. Sorry about that."

"Oh, don't worry about it."

Quincy gave me a relieved smile, perhaps those events had been weighing on his mind for some time. He brushed a stray loc from his face and focused his attention back on the grimoire, his teeth sinking into his lip as he concentrated on the tome.

Cassandra raised an eyebrow from her position in the kitchen doorway. "That thing has always creeped me out."

"What? The skull? It's on all the family cremation tombs."

"Yeah, but the little scythes give me weird vibes. It makes you all look like grim reapers."

I was sure the scythes were a calling card of Forscythe Graves who was the first to write down his law enforcement experiences and create the family record, he had added what remained of his father, Gondulphus' records before sending the originals to MACUSA for safekeeping. Forscythe really loved that reaper aesthetic and the fear it could cause, apparently.

Quincy laughed, "You're marrying into this family, Cass, so I guess you'll be one too."

"You're twisted."

"I love you too."

The looks they gave one another were so affectionate I turned my attention to the wall to admire the landscape paintings and wildlife portraits on the walls alongside their Auror graduation diplomas that bore my father's signature as the sitting president during their graduation and induction alongside Elihu's tight handwriting, who acted as presenter and witness. If I wasn't here, they would probably be making out or something and I never wanted to bear witness to that kind of display. Some things were best kept private.

I'm glad these two weirdos found each other.

"Cassandra, can I ask you something?"

"Sure." She came over and sat down next to Quincy on the couch, a healthy space between the pair as Quincy tried to decipher my brother's spell work. "What's going on?"

"You're a Seed right?"

"I am."

"I heard you were related to a Scourer family," Cassandra's mouth tightened, "I'm sorry, I was just curious. I realized I don't know you very well and…"

Quincy glanced over and Cassandra's face relaxed to her usual calm expression. I always perceived Cassandra as quiet, never shy, just very reserved. She balanced Quincy's jovial personality very well and was still willing to get involved in his more silly, controversial ideas like protesting my father in his own office.

"It's alright. The Barebones have a long history of witch hunting and generally believed themselves to be good at it." Cassandra paused thoughtfully, "They were more of a threat to children then a fully trained wix. I think most of those who were mostly captured were No-Majs who didn't fall in line with the conservative fractions of society."

My head bobbed in agreement, No-Majs were scared of things they couldn't comprehend.

I knew some things about witch hunting in the United States, the campaigns themselves were ineffective, Salem being a prime example of hysteria and ineffectiveness mixed in with greed for coveted land and property. Those No-Majs who admitted to witchcraft, even if they had no magic, would lose their farm to those who sat in judgment over their supposed crimes. An incident where a man named Giles Corey refused to confess led to him being crushed by rocks to secure his land and property for his children. It was a horrific death, where he laid a curse on the sheriffs of Salem with his dying breath. That was one of the main causes of the witch trials coming to an end. There were rumors that Corey still haunted Salem, but No-Majs did not leave true ghosts, if anything was left of a No-Maj it would be an imprint of a traumatic death, a shade, not a true ghost. It was the thing that gave credence to Giles Corey just being a very angry No-Maj, not a wix, a topic that was debated due to his potent curse on the sheriffs of Salem.

Salem is tied into a lot of aspects of magical life in America, the Salem Witches Academy also houses a massive historical archive for public use called the Salem Witches Institute. They were scholars and librarians who guarded this collection and managed the ghosts and shades of Salem, keeping them from the eyes of the non-magical. Though their ability to pass on shades seemed questionable, Giles Corey just kept coming back. MACUSA categorized shades that returned as wraiths, spiteful spirits who were not true ghosts, not dangerous, mostly nonviolent, but had a sense of purpose that they took into death.

Cassandra continued, her low voice adding an increasingly ominous air to her story. "My grandmother and my uncle fully believed in witches walking among us. My father thought they were crazy and ran away to college in Boston where he met my mom. Things were okay for a while. Then I started doing magic."

I felt myself freeze.

"My father snapped. His idea of the world was shattered and he swayed my mother about my unnaturalness. I was the evidence that he had long denied about magic and witchcraft, the very thing he called his family insane over. He went running to his family, telling tales and the Scourer's way is to kill the witch."

Cassandra's calm tones belated the wide eyes of Quincy, who I was sure heard this story before. Cassandra was in front of me and still very much alive, but I couldn't ignore the surge of worry for this younger version of this calm, wry woman.

"Ilvermorny found my name in the Book of Craft and alerted MACUSA. Thankfully, MACUSA keeps a very close eye on the Seed children, especially if the child is in… tricky circumstances. If a Seed ends up in No-Maj foster care, they will spirit them away to magical homes to protect them from Scourer families and stop the kids from revealing magic out of stress. In my case, my last name got a lot of attention so they were sending Aurors and apprentices to keep an eye on me until they could work out if I needed to be removed and how to do so."

"Not someone from the Enforcers? I know they're part of the same department, but that seems… extreme for matters involving a child, even one whose family history includes the origin of Rappaport's Law."

"You're not wrong. The Barebones are incompetent wix hunters, but that doesn't mean they're not dangerous. The Auror posed as a neighbor and kept an eye on things." Cassandra paused for a moment, collecting herself. "When my father and his family came into my house to kill me for my magic, Auror Mankiller saved my life."

"Your Auror mentor?"

"He's an inspiring man," Cassandra nodded. "He saved my life, erased the memories of my parents and my father's family, to them I never existed. Within the coming weeks, the same could be said for the rest of the world. Onacona told me it would be safer for me to be among my own kind and that he would stay with me until a place could be found for me in the magical world."

I was at a loss for words, "I'm sorry that happened to you."

Cassandra shrugged. "It's in the past."

I never knew any of this. To attempt to murder a child was a monstrous crime, to do so for the child having what were perceived to be unnatural powers was to horrible for words. I knew the history of the Scourers, how they began as wizarding mercenaries, bounty hunters before MACUSA had established itself. Bounty hunters who were ruthless in their pursuit of profit and authority in the new world. The Scourers who were caught by this new budding government were executed for their horrible crimes, the ones who had evaded capture by the Twelve Aurors had reportedly intermarried with the No-Maj communities and rejected their magic. A magical child would reveal them to law enforcement and Scourers chose their freedom over familial love. After all, America in the early days was a hard country, and back then many children never survived to the age of five.

"Once the shock wore off and I went away to school, I decided that I wanted to help people, to make the world a better place. Ona helped me get into the Auror training program and offered to mentor me once I passed my initial exams."

There was a stray question nudging around my mind.

"We still don't mention our world to No-Majs, what do we tell their parents about Ilvermorny?"

Cassandra eased back in her chair, a lopsided smile on her face. "We tell them it's an elite private school for children with great potential in academics and athletics. A teacher sent an essay they wrote to a contest that caught this school board's attention. If the parents get nosy, we tell them that it was founded by a billionaire who wants to remain anonymous who also funds the scholarship program that their child has been selected for. We give them a brochure, maybe do a fake tour in an old building if extra security is needed."

"A lot of the public schools in the states are underfunded, a lot of Seeds come from poor communities with no opportunities. A paid for education where the kid has a chance for a better future? The parents won't ask too many questions." Quincy clarified quietly, "We're good at dressing it up for the parents, making a rundown building look like a fancy private school to No-Maj eyes, Cass and I did stints as fake students with the other trainees during our apprenticeship. Cass actually led a tour and spewed some pretty incredible bullshit to these people."

Cassandra chuckled and brushed some stray blonde hair from her face. "I look like their image of a private school kid apparently. I gave the No-Majs a story that I grew up in foster care to tug at their heartstrings and now I was on a waitlist for Yale and they were willing to believe anything."

Quincy continued to cast a series of spells on the book as he spoke. "If the kid is from a religious community, then we say it's a private school with a religious focus, single sex, a moral education with their communities traditional values and partnered with another school for the opposite sex. MACUSA does a lot of research on these kids before we approach the families and just taking them is the very last resort. We do pluck the kids who end up in the No-Maj foster system and take them under MACUSA's care system, we're not as over-staffed and we don't need a Seed child disappearing from under our noses or causing chaos with uncontrolled magic in a No-Maj community where Scourers could still be hanging around. It's not perfect, but it could be a lot worse."

"So, we're still dealing with Rappaport even after it's been repealed." I concluded quietly as Quincy and Cassandra nodded in agreement. I never knew the minutiae of details related to getting Seed children into our world. It all sounded complicated and dangerous. Though, it suddenly made a lot more sense that Chastity's pastor father had been so accepting of her going away to school, he thought it was a religious girl's school, if Chastity ever mentioned a boy, then it was probably explained as the partner school for boys on a neighboring campus.

A shout of triumph from Quincy interrupted the discussion. "Got it!"

Cassandra and I whipped our heads around in unison to look at Quincy and his slightly smoldering sweater sleeves, the smell of burnt wool permeated the room as Quincy slammed the book on the coffee table.

"Take that!" He grinned at the two of us as Cassandra put out the small growing fire on his sleeve. "Alex is talented but he can't puzzle out spell work like I can! I got his extra enchantments off the book, we can leave grandpa's." Quincy reached a hand out to me. "Come here, Audie."

I stood and walked over to sit on the arm of the chair next to Quincy as I stared down at what was my copy of the Graves family grimoire, the empty holes of the skull staring through me, passing right through me as if it knew I was unworthy of the secrets within.

Quincy took my hand and moved it over the book towards the teeth of the skull, there was a sharp pain and I yanked my hand back and out of Quincy's grasp with a shriek. The blood on the skull's teeth was fading quickly into the cover, a sacrifice for knowledge written in blood.

The book flew open as I began to heal my hand with a wave of my wand. "Why did it bite me?!"

"It will only open for you now." Quincy picked up the book and pressed it into my hands. "It's all yours."

When my hand stopped bleeding, I took the book from my cousin and examined it once more. There was no heat or sparks of magic, the book itself felt almost peaceful in my hands, but it was heavy with a sense of familial legacy.

I opened the book slowly, afraid it would bite me again as the spine creaked and groaned in response.

By the Twelve!

This book was full of spells and anecdotes from relatives I had never even heard of talking about dark wix they encountered as Aurors and bounty hunters. Great Aunt Armista had a whole chapter devoted to combat medical magic and spells she created to use in the field, she was talking about using cadavers to teach her students about the effects of dark magic on the body.

I opened back to the first page and skimmed the table of contents listing letters by year and notations from various Graves ancestors, followed by the pages that discussed the magic encountered during their years of service as Aurors.

I turned the page to display copies of Gondulphus Graves letters to his family, the other twelve Aurors of the new government and the spell he was creating that he promised to teach to his son Forscythe when he returned home.

I turned the page to find a picture of Gondulpus' son, Forscythe, a portrait of a thin, serious man with sharp eyes and a steady stare, his brown hair tied back in a short ponytail. He did look like a scythe, if I wanted to be facetious. The next page showed the famous portrait of Forscythe dragging the corpse into the council chambers to lay at the feet of the budding government of MACUSA.

'... Killing is the quickest, easiest way to deal with these people. I don't need to know their reasons, everyone has one, I just don't care to hear the story, I know mine was to avenge my father's death at this fool's hands and that's truly all I need to know… My actions in the council chamber were a necessary act, the people who sit upon the throne of leadership are quick to send us away with no resources and believe we will have the patience to bring these dark wizards back for a trial? No. A ridiculous notion… Dear Hester, I'll be home as soon as I can, give my love to Bellona, has she started walking yet?

I flipped forward in the book, taking in the various notations and thoughts of a growing, expanding country and hunts for Scourers, Dark Wix and other such forces, records of plants and spells created in boring hours on the hunt. I stopped on a page that featured a portrait of a young man with a scruffy beard and his beautiful wife. Cadal and Rebekah Graves. Cadal had a hard look to him, but his eyes were soft, a little more expressive, he did not have a hardened, fighter look to him. Rebekah had a resolute expression that only sharpened her strong face and dark almond shaped eyes, her long black hair was down to her waist. I thought she was a bit too pretty for her husband, but the pair looked at each other with such affection that I soon found myself removed from the whole idea.

'... Rebekah tells me things, she says that the trees will speak if one knows how to listen, but they don't speak in the frigid north. She wishes to return to her mother and visit for a time, but the Scourers are looking for mages among the tribes as the No-Majs move them west. It's too risky and I have asked her to make her peace with it… Her garden is the best in the county, I say this as impartially as I can manage. She never seems to lose a crop and always has a fresh supply of potion ingredients in the cupboard, I know not how she finds these things, it must be on her daily stroll by the river… The No-Majs came today and tried to take my wife away, a witch they called her, a savage who cursed their crops and killed a child. That child was attacked by a hide-behind, Rebekah just found the remains in the woods not far from the river. I soon found the hide-behind not far away from the site, its corpse drifting down river as if something had held it down to drown.'

I looked back at the picture of Cadal and Rebekah and reread the letters. Wait… Could Rebekah be a parseltongue? It would make sense with what I had just read. I would probably never have any true answers about her life, but this I felt I could say with certainty. It seemed to fit together like a puzzle. They were not far from a river, if the thing that killed the hide-behind was a horned serpent, perhaps it heard Rebekah's cries for help.

Alright, one family mystery solved, now I know who to blame for my weirdness.

I skipped the rest of the letters and moved on to the real bulk of this book, the records of the dark magic encountered and the invented spellcraft. Cadal had added notes on local botanical potion ingredients that his wife helped him with. The pair had invented a series of spells to remove poison from open wounds in relation to various venomous creatures, both magical and mundane. It was an early rudimentary version of something I knew our wildlife agency used today.

There was a section on tracking spells, interrogation techniques, places on the body that could be quickly and easily broken and a section on the uses of No-Maj… gunpowder? This section had been added to by many Graves relatives in a way that made my stomach turn.

Among Forscythe's unique additions to the Graves family grimoire was weapon conjuration, he wrote in excruciating detail about how to create a balanced weapon out of our will and focus, to create something balanced and useful, the wix needed to know what something that fit perfectly in one's hand felt like. This man focused strictly on killing his opponents quickly and efficiently, a lesson he learned fighting a dark witch who killed his father. He learned from the records left by his defeated adversary how to make the wards that had shielded the cave she was hiding in for months and brought them home to use on the house he was building for his wife and young family. I had no idea the Byrgen House had wards of this kind laid in the foundation, all dark and twisted like the roots of a tree.

"I've been working on that one," Quincy said suddenly from somewhere over my shoulder causing me to jump as he pointed at a picture in the book. "He did the math for the dimensions of an executioner's axe! It's a great scare tactic. Though, he apparently really liked large scythes and wanted Aurors to dress like the grim reaper to instill fear in their opponents. He was apparently really good with it."

That would make them look like the Death Eaters.

"You're an Auror, not a haunted house goon." Cassandra interjected as she removed her bread from the oven with a flick of her wand, allowing the warm, buttery smell to fill the apartment as she placed the crockery on top of a towel that was resting on the table. "Gumbo's almost ready by the way."

"We're taking the leftovers to the embassy tomorrow right? After what Jenkins said about New Orleans cooking being just French and roadkill I'm ready to teach him a lesson."

"I'm teaching the lesson, your job is to be smug and show him how to actually eat an animal that can't be turned into boots."

"Suck the brains out of the shrimp! Got it!"

Cassandra's cool composure slipped for a second, a look of disgust and horror replacing it as I closed the book to look at later when I returned home.

Quincy's laughter was high and lively like a bell. "This coming for the woman who ate a bucket of raw clams at grandpa's fish fry? You won him right over!"

I looked at Cassandra with wide eyes, she didn't seem the type, more of an observer than a participant.

"It wasn't just to make your grandpa happy!"

"True," Quincy's voice dropped to whisper in my ear. "She said they were delicious."

Over a very English gumbo, (even I could tell that Cassandra had used less spice than Uncle John nor did it taste as it would across the sea) our discussions turned to topics that were more political and recent. Such as the murdered family of four from Aberdeen where the Dark Mark had appeared over the home and graced the front page of the Daily Prophet for the horror of it all. Another reminder of the chaos that went on beyond the walls of government and the shroud of terror we continued to live with.

Oo0Oo0

Author's Note: The letter Elihu shows Audrey is from chapter 3 of Letter from MACUSA.

I love mentorship in stories and love to touch on it in this smaller way then in A Friend to Government Pigs, where it was heavily featured is very nice. What is shown here is a lot less emotionally enmeshed than in that story/ series, Cassandra is a callback to that version of Audrey in that way. I think men can learn a lot from women in their lives, that young men have a lot to gain from learning from older women in authority, and young women can learn things from men who respect them in turn. This might be why there are all these opposite sex mentoring in my fics.

Anthropology and sociology are valid courses of study, dammit! They're the backbone of the entire Seed program and when MACUSA needs to deal with the nonmagical. They look specifically for Seeds and half-bloods, because if you need to spew bullshit, you need believable bullshit and it is a fantastic job if you're into people watching. They teach a yearly course to the Law Enforcement departments and take the apprentices on assignment to learn how to function in nonmagical society as part of their training.