March, 1927

   "NOPE, GO AWAY."

   Circe looks at the person standing in the door to her flat. Her entire body has a negative reaction to the sight of him, her blood boiling. She isn't surprised that he knows where she lives, but she is surprised that he decided to visit her. As if her seeing him about a week ago wasn't enough for her.

   When Circe tries to close the door in Theseus Scamander's face, he puts his hand on the door, keeping it open successfully, as the man is much stronger than her. All of her effort is in vain, yet she tries her best.

   Despite her withering glare, Theseus doesn't let go of the door. Circe groans after more seconds of trying to close the door. She lets go of it eventually. She can't close the door with Theseus keeping it open. So annoying.

   "Fine," she grunts. "What do you want?" Not bothering with such things as being polite, she stands before Theseus, not allowing the man to go inside, as that is her only way of showing that she still has the upper hand. It's her flat; her rules.

   Theseus looks at Circe, rubbing the back of his neck. "Can I come inside?" he asks.

   Circe deadpans, not having to say the obvious no out loud. Did he truly believe he could ask to come inside and she would gladly let him? But Theseus understands and nods, pressing his lips together. He hides his hands in the pockets of his coat, his right arm clasping around his wand for comfort. He knows the witch standing before him won't attempt to curse him on the spot, but she could very well try to punch him.

   The Dalton woman notices it and sighs. She remembers Theseus hiding his wand in his right pocket on the day of her father's arrest. He did it to show that he doesn't want to hurt them, although he was hurting the family either way.

   Circe's wand is out of reach, but she's been practicing wandless summoning, so she could technically Accio her wand to herself. So far, the summoning charm is the only spell she can perform without a wand. But it is a handy one either way. And if anything, she thinks, she could always use her hands as weapons — even if the damage would be much less lethal than if she were to have a wand.

   The two adults stand in front of each other, not saying a single word.

   Circe raises her eyebrow at Theseus, staring at him intently, her jaw clenched. She wonders what he's doing on her doorstep, and what made him journey all the way to her flat. After all, he had to walk here by foot, as he has had no visual image of her flat until now in order to apparate. She watches him chew on his bottom lip as he figures out what to say.

   Perhaps the most annoying part of it all is the fact that she finds it adorable. Like, this man who is at least twenty centimetres taller than her and much more athletic in build is standing before her, nervous and possibly scared. And she doesn't even have her wand on her at the moment.

   "So?"

   Theseus chews on the inside of his cheek, trying to get his thoughts in order. He needs to figure out a way to give his message without making Circe want to slam the door in his face again. He needs to be concise — make his statement short and straight to the point. But how—

   "I want to help with your investigation," he blurts out, almost instantly regretting it. He doesn't usually act upon impulse, but the sentence slipped through his lips before he could stop himself. There surely were better ways of saying it.

   Though seeing the look on Circe's face reveals that this might have been the most effective.

   She narrows her eyes at the wizard before her, scrutinising him with a gaze full of bemusement. She hugs herself, taken aback by the sudden retort and offer of help. It is quite late to offer help, but Theseus doesn't even realise how much Circe appreciates it. 

   For a while now, she's been in a cul-de-sac, unable to find any leads that could help her exonerate her father, and she was almost ready to give up. She probably wouldn't have after giving it more thought, but she did consider it at one point. She didn't know what to do, when Grindelwald's supporters are as elusive as they come, and most of them still have a supply of the Sunburst Potion, which shouldn't even be available.

   It's been a frustrating journey, that is certain.

   "What?" she asks, gaping at the Head Auror.

   "I — I can't start an investigation of my own. I can't start an official one at the Auror Office either, because Travers would shut it down instantly, but I could, er — I can help you. With whatever it is you are doing to try and prove your family's innocence."

   Circe blankly stares at the Scamander man before her, unable to find words.

   "I really am sorry for not doing anything to help that day. I — it was my fault that I didn't try and talk to Travers about arresting possibly innocent people. I should've done something but I didn't, and now your father and uncles have been in Azkaban for two months, doing their best to hold onto their sanity . . . and it's all my fault."

   "I, er — I don't think it's me who needs to hear this apology," Circe finally speaks up, shaking her head. "If anything, it's my father and uncles who need it. Along with getting out of Azkaban."

   Theseus nods understandingly.

   "What does that mean?" he asks. "Do you, er — would you accept my help?"

   Circe bites her lip, looking at Theseus. "Yes," she nods at the man. "You're the Head Auror — you've got to have access to files and information that I don't. Things that could be useful," she says reasonably. "Of course, I accept. I'm angry and bitter, not stupid ... but also frustrated. My own investigations haven't been leading anywhere so far, and all I've found out is that the acolytes still have a supply of our Sunburst Potions. Which, yes, could technically mean that my father and uncles are innocent, but then would condemn somebody else in my family. And I don't think anybody in my family would do such a thing as support a man like Grindelwald."

   Theseus makes a face, nodding. "Right, yeah, sure," he says. "But I am really sorry. Those two months ago, when I made the arrest, I did believe that you and your family were innocent. I'm just sorry I didn't act on that instead."

   "Did you get all that from the scolding I gave you a week ago?" Circe purses her lips, narrowing her eyes at the wizard.

   "Maybe," he shrugs. "I wouldn't call it a scolding, though ... but rather a very necessary wake up call." Besides, he's been gathering the courage to talk to Circe about all of this for a while now.

   Circe bites back a smile, hearing Theseus Scamander admit his mistakes. She's still angry with him, and has enough capacity to be petty about what he has caused her family, so she doesn't let the strange emotion of thankfulness toward Theseus Scamander take over her. Plus, being told that you're right from a person who is considered a war hero across the globe can give you a mad ego boost.

   "Alright, I, er — do you want to come inside, Mr Scamander?"she asks, stepping aside, so the man could possibly enter the flat if he agrees to it. Circe doesn't know how to act now, her eyes fixated on the wooden floor of her flat.

   "Sure," Theseus nods. He enters the small hallway, taking off his brown coat to reveal a grey three-piece suit. Circe rolls her eyes, understanding that he must've just come from work, but he's still overdressed for her taste. "And call me Theseus, please."

   Circe furrows her brows at the Head Auror. "D'you expect me to tell you to call me Circe now?" she asks.

   "Yes?"

   "Well, in that case, I won't," Circe purses her lips, taking off into the living room, Theseus trailing behind her with a look of confusion on his face.

   "Do you hate me that much?" he asks, cocking his head to the side.

   Circe shrugs, looking at the Scamander man. "No, I just dislike you," she says, "there is a slight difference, Mr Scamander."

   "—Theseus."

   "Yes, I do know your name," says Circe cheekily.

   "That was not—" Theseus stops himself, looking down at the floor and sighing. He shakes his head. The wizard realises that there is no point in trying to argue with Circe. She won't budge.

   Theseus has a hard time adjusting to the fact that despite Circe agreeing to at least put up with him, they're not necessarily on good terms. Hence the refusal of being on a first name basis with each other. He should be grateful, yet he wishes there was something more he could do to make Circe warm up to him. He wronged her, and he's aware of it, but it's as if his brain is convinced that there is something he can do to make up for it immediately.

   Sometimes he wishes he wasn't so driven by the incessant need to be liked by everybody. And perhaps he wouldn't if people didn't usually like him right off the bat ... he's been conditioned to seek society's approval his entire life, and it's difficult to stop.

   "Feel free to sit down," Circe says to the Head Auror and points at the sofa in the middle of the room, placed in front of a fireplace that isn't lit, because it's nearly  spring, and the weather is getting slightly better. Although it does rain quite often.

   Theseus does as he's told, looking around the room to try and create a bigger picture of Circe's personality in his head. The living room is messy, several books, papers and files strewn all over the different surfaces of furniture.

   The bookshelf is filled with Potions and Transfiguration books, including a few novels; wizarding and muggle alike. One of the books there is even Odyssey by Homer, and if Theseus isn't mistaken, it features a witch character with the name of Circe, who can turn people into animals.

   There are also photos on her shelves, and he eyes them curiously. One of the photos is quite old, taken during her time at Hogwarts, probably, as it is one with a fifteen-year-old Newt. But then he notices a photo of Circe kissing a man he recognises from the Auror Office — though he's been working in Paris for over half a year now.

   So, Circe hasn't always hated Aurors.

   Circe notices Theseus eyeing the bookshelf, pursing her lips and pointing at the Odyssey. "It's quite a funny coincidence that I have quite a bit in common with the character that I share a name with, eh? Though I also own Metamorphmoses by OVID, who tells the story of Theseus," she informs. "Personally, I'm not that big of a fan of his character."

   Theseus glances at her, but doesn't say anything. A sarcastic smile makes its way to her lips, knowing that he would like to say something, but doesn't want to be kicked out right after she let him inside her flat.

   In a corner, Circe has a work desk filled with either empty or drawn-on papers with different kinds of drawings. Some have people on them, some have the creatures that Newt loves so much. A drawing of a Unicorn, a Phoenix and a Sea Serpent hang above the desk, looking quite worn — they're perhaps the oldest drawings in the room. He notices the Unicorn looks exactly like the one in Newt's book about magical creatures.

   "We encountered it during detention at Hogwarts, Newt and I," Circe informs Theseus, noticing that the drawing caught his attention. "Prendergast sent us into the Forbidden Forest alone, thinking that he'll scare our audacity out of us, but instead we encountered a herd of Unicorns. One approached us and Newt told me that I can pet it, though he had to stay behind and merely watch."

   "Because Unicorns prefer to be in the presence of girls," says Theseus to himself, and Circe nods.

   She knows what Theseus is doing. Examining the living room to find out more about her character. And she doesn't really mind it as nothing in the room tells much about her besides the fact that she likes to draw and read. And then she notices the photo of her and Holden on one of her shelves, which she failed to get rid of after their break up, and a part of her wants to inconspicuously walk over there and lay it down flat.

   His gaze gets stuck once again, this time on the fish tank by the window, which has a tortoise in it. Circe smiles at it before turning to Theseus.

   "Don't mind Percy the Tortoise. He's actually a teapot — completely harmless unless you plan to put your finger in his fish tank ... then he might attempt to bite you," she tells the Head Auror, who gives her a strange look. She shrugs. "The flat felt a bit lonely, so I improvised."

   "You could've just bought an actual animal," says Theseus.

   Circe glares at the man. "Yes, I could've, but I don't see why I couldn't have used magic, when I can, either," she says to her defence.

   Theseus bites the inside of his cheek and nods. "Fair enough."

   He continues looking around, and Circe rolls her eyes. "Whatever you're trying to find, you probably won't."

   Theseus shakes his head. "I've found enough," he says, nodding toward a shelf filled with magical creatures made of paper as a folded origami. It's familiar to him, as Newt has a bunch of those in his room in their childhood home. "You made those?" he asks, pointing at the paper creatures.

   Circe nods. "I'd always make those after Newt came back from one of his adventures, describing a new sort of magical creature he encountered," she says with a smile. "I used to transfigure the paper into the creatures, also. Newt and I used to get in so much trouble whenever I transfigured my dragon origami into actual small fire-breathing dragons."

   "And you made Head Girl?"

   "Stop being rude to me, when I'm trying to be nice, Mr Scamander," shakes her head. "Actually, I don't even know why I invited you inside. I suppose the shock of you offering help just overtook me."

   Theseus rolls his eyes. "Perhaps we could look over the information you've gathered about Grindelwald and his followers so far, to see if we can get something out of it."

   Circe gives the man a look that says: do you think I haven't done that already? But she chokes the comment in her throat and nods. Theseus pulls out his wand from the pocket of his suit jacket, the handle made of tortoise shell shining in the light of the room.

   "Don't you dare parade that in front of Percy," she warns the Head Auror, who raises an eyebrow at the woman.

   "It's a teapot," he says, dumbfounded.

   "Yes, but the teapot has feelings! And its emotional range is clearly much larger than yours," Circe scoffs. Stretching out her arm, she mutters Accio! and summons her wand. It lands in her hand, earning an impressed look from Theseus. (Not that it matters to her, of course.)

   She uses a non-verbal spell to tidy up the living room first, before using the summoning charm on all the Grindelwald-related files she has in her flat.

   "I do not understand you," remarks Theseus, shaking his head. Perhaps that is exactly the reason Circe Dalton is friends with Newt.

   "You're not even supposed to, Mr Scamander." Circe gives him a look. "But one thing you can currently try to understand is the information kept in these files."

   "HAVE YOU SPOKEN TO MOTHER?"

   Asks Perse, Circe's older brother by two years. He decided to come visit her after about a month of not seeing each other, since he's mostly stuck in Romania, tending to dragons. He did bring along some dragon-related ingredients for The Chemist, too, but he mainly used it as an excuse to come visit his sister.

   Circe sighs, shaking her head. "I haven't spoken to her since ... I don't even know. I reckon I spoke to her after our father got locked up in Azkaban, and then I haven't really seen her much. I didn't try contacting her either ... have you?"

   "No," says Perse. "That's why I'm asking you. She didn't respond to a single letter I sent her, asking if she's alright. Not even Scylla is responding, unless, 'course, you count those dumb concise letters of her that say absolutely nothing." He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair.

   "What a lovely family we got," says Circe sarcastically, laughing dryly. "I've not been around family much as it is. I only see our cousins at The Chemist, but that's about it all. They're all still pretty dejected by our fathers being blamed for something they didn't do and all ..."

   Perse nods. "That's understandable," he says. "But what about you? Are you trying to find the real culprit?" the wizard questions knowingly. "You haven't mentioned anything in your letters, but I can guess as much—"

   "How do you know me so well?" asks Circe, rolling her eyes. 

   "You're my little sister," Perse states, shrugging. "And you actually talk to me. Unlike Scylla."

   "She doesn't talk to either of us, to be fair," says Circe. She shakes her head, thinking of her younger sister.

   She knows that when Scylla first began attending Hogwarts, she'd been unbelievably passive aggressive toward Circe because of how popular she was with Dumbledore and some other teachers. Scylla disliked being compared to her older sister, especially when she was Head Girl. She must've been all the more happy that Circe was five years older, which meant that she left before the comparisons could ruin Scylla's confidence and their entire relationship. Though that was ruined the moment Scylla voiced her opinion of thinking that muggleborns were unworthy of attending Hogwarts and that witches, wizards and Muggles should not be allowed to mix.

   "Maybe she'll grow out of it? Hating us, I mean ..." says Perse positively, pressing his lips together. Circe raises a questioning eyebrow at him.

   "More me than you," she states. "But, I don't know. Whatever she got to believe at Hogwarts stuck with her. She did spend a lot of time around the oldest pureblood bloodline descendants. She's a Dalton. Of course, those Slytherin arseholes would take her in."

   "For what it's worth, I don't think our mother is very fond of muggles either," Perse points out, shrugging. "You do know she was driven out of her country by them, right?"

   "She told us when we were really young." Circe nods. "She just wanted to warn us that muggles can be dangerous even if we're the ones with the upper hand because we have magic."

   "And muggles have their guns."

   "I