September, 1927

   CIRCE SITS IN A CAFÉ.

   It's located in Place Cachée, the wizarding part of Paris, which is accessed through the Moving Statue, a woman who sits upon a pedestal. It's quite complicated to walk through during the day, since there are muggles walking past, but Circe and her mother managed it without spotting a single muggle. It gave Circe great relief, not having to listen to her mother complain about them.

   They're staying at her cousin Darcy's flat. She's lived in Paris since she finished her education at Hogwarts over twenty-five years ago now, and she seems very content with her life outside of England. Not that it matters too much where she lives, since her job as a Curse-Breaker requires her to travel around the world more often than she gets to sleep in her own bed.

   Currently, Darcy is working a job in Brazil, therefore, her entire flat is free to be used by Circe and Aera however they want as long as they don't break anything, or put everything back to its original place before they leave.

   The mother and daughter haven't been in Paris for more than an hour, only settling into their respective rooms and seeing whether they have food to eat, yet Circe already managed to become exasperated with her mother. It resulted in her leaving the flat and ending up sitting at the first café she saw, hoping to have a cup of coffee and a croissant to make herself feel slightly better.

   She hates to admit it, but Julie and Leta (even the subtle hints from Gwyn) were right when they expressed that they doubt Circe could last long in the presence of her mother. It hadn't even been an hour since their feet landed in Paris, and she was on the road to getting as far away from Aera as she could.

   The Dalton witch sighs, rubbing her temples in frustration. She would prefer to be able to scream her lungs out and release some of the underlying anger alongside every other negative feeling she's had in the past months, but she can't.

   Instead, she sits at a café, smiling at the waiter as they bring her a cup of coffee and a croissant per her request. She thanks them quietly, immediately taking a sip of the hot beverage that tastes almost as bitter as she feels.

   "A holiday," she mutters under her breath, laughing dryly.

   Though she must admit that being in Paris has its perks. She can get out of Place Cachée whenever she wants. She could go see the sights just like she did in Prague. She'd always wanted to visit the Louvre, and see the Eiffel Tower live. She wishes to wander the streets of Paris aimlessly and appreciate the culture and beauty of it all.

   Circe knows that she won't, however, the moment she spots a small coach filled with trunks and chests making its way through Rue Girardon with the now-familiar logo of Circus Arcanus on its sides.

   She spots many people in the staff, including a few House-Elves. There is no sign of Credence, though.

   Circe notices somebody else standing in the street, leaning against a shop window of a sweets shop. He wears a blue suit with a dark grey trench coat over it, his face hidden underneath a hat.

   She stares at the man intently, thinking that he looks familiar, only to face Holden once he turns to her as if he could sense her eyes on him.

   The wizard's eyes widen. Though the shock doesn't last very long as he makes his way to Circe in an instant.

   "What are you doing here?" he asks her, tilting his head to the side.

   "I'm supposed to be on holiday," Circe replies casually, shrugging. "But, you see, apparently that's most likely not happening." She nods toward the carriages of Circus Arcanus as they begin unpacking.

   "What do you need from Circus Arcanus?" Holden questions, knitting his eyebrows together in confusion. "I thought you've given up," he says, "and we also haven't found anything in connection to it in Prague."

   Circe laughs sarcastically. "Right, we haven't found anything," she says, rolling her eyes at the man. "I have some pretty important business with Circus Arcanus, I'd say. But I think you might know it even better than me."

   The Dalton witch's passive aggression doesn't go unnoticed by Holden. He looks at her, properly examining the slightly annoyed expression on her face. Her eyes are narrowed, her lips puckered and there is a threatening glint in her gaze. One that reveals the truth. Something Holden hasn't been telling her; yet she knows.

   He chuckles uneasily, scratching the back of his head, though he keeps strict eye contact with the witch.

   "So ..." he starts, genuinely at a loss of words. "Did Dumbledore—"

   "You lied to me," says Circe, glaring at the man.

   She sips her coffee to dampen the anger bubbling inside her now that Holden stands before her, and cannot even bring himself to explain what he's been doing. Perhaps Circe is being unreasonable, for she didn't give him enough time to even gather his own thoughts, but honestly, she should've known about him working with Dumbledore ages ago. (And from him!)

   "I didn't lie to you per se," Holden defends himself, shaking his head. "I merely kept some information from you. I truly was tracking acolytes when we saw each other in Prague. It wasn't a lie."

   "But you failed to mention that you were there because of Dumbledore," says Circe.

   Holden presses his lips together, nodding.

   "How long?" Circe asks. "How long have you been working with Dumbledore?" she clarifies later.

   The look on her face clearly states that she won't tolerate any bullshit, and that all she wants to hear is the full truth. Possibly about everything.

   "Over a year," Holden replies, biting the inside of his cheek. "After Newt caught Grindelwald, the Ministry banned him from travelling internationally ... Dumbledore and the Ministry knew that Credence didn't die that day in New York, and that he left somewhere ..."

   "Dumbledore asked you to track him," Circe finishes, the story seeming obvious to her. Holden confirms her deduction with a nod.

   "I couldn't find him at first. We weren't sure where to look," Holden explains, shrugging. "But then somebody rediscovered The Predictions of Tycho Dodonus and rumours of Credence being Corvus Lestrange began to spread ..."

   "How would that point you anywhere near to where Credence might be?" asks Circe with her eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

   "He could be trying to find his family. Or at least get close to his roots," Holden says. "That's what Dumbledore told me anyway."

   "And Circus Arcanus tours the whole world," says Circe, coming to a conclusion. "Which would give Credence a chance to search for his family worldwide."

   Holden nods. "Still, Dumbledore wanted me in Paris in case the rumours of Credence's possible ancestry ever reached him, since France is where the Lestrange family comes from, and where their family tree is stored — specifically at the French Ministry of Magic."

   "Wait ..." Circe looks at Holden, frowning. "What do you mean Dumbledore wanted you in Paris?" she asks. "Did you move to Paris because of Dumbledore?"

   Holden averts his gaze, running a hand through his hair. "Yes. And no ... partly," he answers, avoiding eye contact with Circe as she continues to gape at him. He presses his lips together, inhaling deeply. "I was offered the job in Paris even before Dumbledore approached me."

   A dry laugh escapes Circe's lips. "Of course," she huffs. "Dumbledore always knows when it's the right time to make specific requests. Bloody always. That brilliant little bastard."

   "Dumbledore came to you before you arrived in Paris, didn't he?"

   Circe nods. "He wants me to get to Credence before Grindelwald does. But I don't even know what I would say to that boy. Newt is the one who knows him and could actually help him."

   "You need to trust yourself more, Circe," says Holden, shaking his head. "There's always something you can do."

   "Well, even if—" Circe shakes her head— "I would have to find Credence first. And there's a large chance that he's either roaming Paris before the circus gets ready, or he's going to be hiding somewhere around here."

   Holden smiles thinly. "I wish I could help you," he says. "But I've got to go to work."

   "I don't need your help," Circe remarks. "It's quite clear that Dumbledore thought it's you who needs help."

   "Look, I'm sorry, Circe—"

   "Keep your apologies to yourself," she cuts him off, shaking her head. "You could've trusted me, Holden. I wouldn't tell anyone that you're helping Dumbledore."

   Holden sighs. "I was trying to protect you."

   "I don't need your protection."

   "ARE YOU TINA GOLDSTEIN?"

   Circe approaches a woman who looks exactly like the one Newt keeps a photo of in his case. She knows that Tina is American, and she has better odds of this woman being a random woman, but Circe still had to try.

   "Uh, yes?" Tina replies, turning to face Circe. Her face contorts in confusion. "Do we know each other?"

   Tina furrows her eyebrows at the Dalton woman, examining her thoroughly. Just like her, Circe chooses to wear pants despite the general dislike for women wearing men's clothes. If she does know this woman, she can't recall any instance of having met her. Especially with her British accent, Tina is quite certain she would've remembered meeting a woman like Circe.

   The black-haired witch chuckles, shaking her head. "No, actually, we don't," she replies. "But we have a mutual friend ... Newt Scamander? He, er, he keeps a photo of you in his case. That's how I recognised you."

   Circe explains herself, realising that her reasoning might be slightly awkward and perhaps even strange. But her gut drew her toward the American Auror like a moth to a flame. She'd wanted to meet Tina for as long as she remembers, and the first instance she got a chance, she took it.

   A smile creeps onto Tina's lips. "He does?" she asks, only to mask her delight soon after. "I can't imagine why." She clears her throat afterward.

   Tina remembers the article in Spellbound about Newt being engaged to Leta Lestrange, and realises that she should not feel happy about Newt keeping a memory of her with him wherever he goes. She's not aware that the article was a misprint and that neither one of the Scamander brothers is engaged to Leta now, anyway.

   "Oh, I can," Circe comments, a grin decorating her lips.

   She doesn't elaborate, not wanting to be the one to tell Tina that Newt fancies her as more than a friend. That is purely on Newt to do, even if it's going to take him months ... or even years. Although she would prefer if he admitted his affections earlier.

   Tina ignores the commentary, however, as she continues her walk through Montmartre.

   "So, what brings a woman like you to Paris?" Circe inquires, trying to start a conversation with the woman that managed to capture the interest of Newt Scamander. "I mean, you are an American Auror, correct?"

   "Auror business," Tina replies concisely.

   Circe hums. "I can only assume that means you are also looking for Credence Barebone," she says, knowing it would catch Tina's attention immediately. After all, she had been the person by Newt's side, when he captured Grindelwald in New York nearly a year ago.

   The Auror stops in her tracks, turning to face Circe properly. Tina sighs. "Of course, I'm looking for Credence. He's our only lead to Grindelwald," she says, shaking her head.

   "I know," says the Dalton woman with a thin smile upon her lips.

   She knows he's the only lead to Grindelwald, because she's been given the instructions to find him and help him before Grindelwald gets to him. And possibly, now that she thinks of it, even the Ministry of Magic. For Dumbledore operates outside of the magical law, which makes him almost as criminal as Grindelwald in the eyes of the Ministry.

   It doesn't matter that he is technically on the right side. He's not following protocols and the lead of the Ministry of Magic, which could very well land him in Azkaban, if the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement wishes it so.

   "My name is Circe, by the way. Circe Dalton."

   "Hm, the name sounds familiar," Tina remarks, narrowing her eyes in thought. She has heard or seen it somewhere before. She merely cannot remember where. "Are you by any chance an Auror, too, Miss Dalton?" she questions.

   Circe laughs, shaking her head dismissively. "Oh, no. I'm not, Miss Goldstein," she says. "I did consider entering the Auror recruitment programme many years ago, but I've chosen to take the easier path and become a potion maker."

   "Why is a potion maker looking for Credence?" Tina cocks her head to the side.

   "How did a Magizoologist catch the most powerful dark wizard in the world?" Circe replies with a question of her own.

   "I understand your point." Tina nods. "So, you approached me only because you know Mr Scamander?" she questions, pursing her lips.

   "I've wished to meet you for months," Circe admits, laughing softly. "Newt's been talking about you for ages, I almost felt like I met you myself."

   "Oh."

   "But I also saw you, and I figured that if you truly are Tina Goldstein, then you might be trying to get to Credence before Grindelwald, too." The Dalton woman glances at Tina, who nods.

   "Do you know where he is, Miss Dalton?"

   "Only that he's with Circus Arcanus," Circe shares, pursing her lips. "I figured that I would wait until later in the evening, when the show starts to attempt finding him. Since so far, I've had no luck, and could not find him anywhere."

   "Mhm," says Tina, "waiting is not a bad idea."

   "Yet time is of the essence," Circe points out.

   CIRCE APPARATED TO DARCY'S FLAT.

   She and Tina both decided that they would wait until later in the evening before meeting at the Moving Statue in Montmartre to enter Place Cachée together and visit Circus Arcanus.

   It gave Circe a few hours to kill, and she wanted to check with her mother before she left to explore the muggle part of Paris by herself. However, instead of her mother, Circe comes face to face with a woman she has never seen in her life.

   Her hair is dark brown and done in an updo, while her eyes are a bright blue colour. She smiles at Circe, standing up from the sofa and bowing her head politely. "Miss Dalton, it is lovely to meet you," the woman says, her French accent obvious in her English.

   "I'm sorry," Circe eyes the woman in confusion, shaking her head. "But I don't think I know you, Miss ..."

   "Rosier," she replies. "My name is Vinda Rosier."

   "And, er, where is my mother?" Circe questions.

   "She's gone to make some tea," Vinda smiles pleasantly. "We were just about to talk about your family more," she explains.

   Circe purses her lips at the woman, unsure of her intentions. She doesn't know her, and she barely talks to her mother for Vinda Rosier to have been mentioned in any of their conversations. The Dalton witch eyes Vinda with caution.

   "Aera and I have known each other for a while. We've been corresponding, but this is the first time we are meeting personally. It is quite exciting. I have heard about your father being put in Azkaban when he is innocent. It is quite unfair, don't you think, Miss Dalton? If it were my family, I would be trying to get them out of there. I've heard Azkaban is a terrible prison to be in. It is what your mother wishes to do, anyway, get your father and uncles out of Azkaban."

   Circe makes a face, examining Vinda's calm comportment. "The only way to do that is to prove that my family is innocent."

   "That is not entirely true, Miss Dalton, is it?" says Vinda, arching up an eyebrow at Circe. "There are more ways to help your family."

   "Like what?" Circe challenges the woman, tilting her head to the side.

   Vinda tuts, shrugging. "I believe you will know when the time comes," she replies.

   "Circe, is that you?" Aera calls from another room.

   She walks into the living room with her wand in hand as she levitates a tray of cups and a teapot, setting it down on the small table by the sofa. Her other hand clasps onto a letter.

   "Yes, mum, it is me," she says, although Aera has already spotted her.

   The elder witch smiles at her daughter. She approaches her and hands her the letter. "This arrived for you only moments ago," she explains.

   Circe knits her eyebrows together, taking the letter from Aera. She examines it curiously, the front page being empty. Though once she turns it around, it carries the signature of Newt Scamander. She opens it immediately, uncaring of the presence of the other two women.

   She holds her breath as she reads it, for the first sentence states that Newt did not have his travelling ban revoked. In fact, the only reason Theseus was there was to suggest that Newt should join the Auror Office, for they want him to find and kill Credence Barebone, who he'd thought to be dead until today. Obviously, Newt refused to hunt Credence, so they plan to send Gunnar Grimmson after him.

   Circe sighs, shaking her head. She chews on her bottom lip, wondering how long they'll keep Newt from being able to travel. He's a Magizoologist, he lives for travelling around the world and discovering new magical creatures that he could learn and write about.

   She clenches her jaw, adding it to yet another list of reasons she dislikes the Ministry of Magic. Yet most of her issues lie with the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

   "What is it, Circe? What does the Scamander boy say?" asks Aera. She sits down on the sofa with Vinda, pouring a cup of tea for them both. She asks Circe whether she wants a cup for herself, too, with a single look.

   Circe shakes her head. "Nothing you need to worry yourself with, mum," she replies. "Just the Ministry of Magic being the Ministry of Magic."

   "Ah ... so, nothing good, I assume," says Aera, nodding.

   Circe hums in agreement.

   "There must be something that could be done to stop the Ministry from abusing their power, no?" questions Vinda, catching onto the conversation quite easily. "Arresting innocent people,