Diagon Alley was nothing like Durmstrang. Those last few days, a tease like the weather, were still clear as a Pensieve in Magda’s mind: the deep green of the north, the hidden softness of summer, a resplendent wilderness that bowed to no one.

This place was quirky corners, crowds, dust, but it was not like Hogsmeade, either. It had the pace that Magda craved. And beyond it, the vastness of London was a welcome thing. There were parts of the city not unlike her hometown. There were ventures, shadowy or otherwise, that Magda craved.

She had sent her things ahead, had spent half the weekend unpacking, making home of the flat she had rented in Diagon Alley. Magic made an otherwise tedious task easy enough, giving Magda a few hours of freedom and catching up with a fellow graduate before a Monday induction. Today’s was a short walk, and familiar already, thanks to both family in London and Magda’s own prowling about.

Her eyes roamed over an an ancient witch pushing a cart full of frog legs who was shouting that hers were the freshest, guaranteed. And then a lanky creature entering a bookshop, and just past him to the colorful signs of a robes boutique advertising light-as-a-feather summer garb. The colorful wizarding  establishments stood in stark contrast to Magda's destination, where her mentor waited.

Magdalena had not met the witch. Their owl correspondence had been formal and straight-forward, a necessity. Certainly Magda had restrained herself, had kept to the topics at hand, of which there were plenty: resumes, requirements, travel details. Forms and agreements. Her academic life had been committed to paper, a golden ticket to this institution… or ways around it.

Magda’s ambition was not to work for Gringotts. No, she wanted to work for herself, ultimately. But there was nowhere better to begin one’s training in the course she sought, and those they contracted were the best in their field. The Dane climbed the steps of the monolith, slipping nimbly past cloaked businessmen whose pockets were heavy with coin. Magda’s were light with want— not of gold, but something else. She caught one slow-closing door and glided in, stopping in the lobby proper, where blue eyes took in a feast of decor goblin-made or goblin-funded.

The walls stretched higher most of Diagon Alley. The ceiling’s lofty glass domes had been replaced over a decade ago, and both as new and ancient as only something so expensive could. Magda took a few more steps. The marble had the satisfying echo underfoot that meant even loitering wasn’t wasted here.

Whatever mystery shrouded her new mentor, Magdalena was sure, as soon as she laid eyes on the woman, that she had found Josephine St. Just. There was no uniform or specific look, nothing physically that one of the profession might have in common with another, but the witch met the criteria in Magdalena’s mind. She had an air to which many younger women aspired— most failing miserably. Magda would not.

“Miss St. Just?” She asked, only a hint of question in her tone, that polite diplomacy reserved for adults. She poke as she approached with long strides, wand held at a slight angle, eyes locking onto the woman’s. “I’m Magdalena Eisenberg.” She came to a comfortable stop, extended her free hand.

The goblins were negligible things by comparison, ugly, a different kind of formality. (Not that Magda was not well aware of their power.) The light scratch of quill to parchment was sharp in her ears.

Waiting in the lobby, Josephine was intrigued by the new recruit.  She’d seen all of the resumes, read the correspondence.  She’d been given the luxury of scanning the applications this year – the ability of tenure was miraculous.  Generally, there were a fair amount of graduates who wished to experience the fast paced world of curse breaking, but so few of them qualified to do such a thing.

So, she’d selected three and said if they hired more than that they’d be wasting money.  Josephine would be intrigued to see if they followed her directions or not.  All she knew is that she’d put a note on this one that she’d like to train her.  It wasn’t often that Josephine was doing work that required being out of London (it appeared that work went to the exceptionally younger) and as unfortunate as working in close quarters with the goblins, there were certain perks.

For one, there was a distinctly smaller chance she’d deal with villages of cannibals and ancient artifacts on any given day.  Granted, there were the days that Josephine keenly missed such adventures through the farthest reaches of where she could be sent.  It wasn’t entirely too boring to be doing work inside of the city now, and it was a bit more stable. 

Plus, there was a little bit more control in the epicenter of the operation.  Glancing at the large, golden clock face of the clock, Josephine’s jaw clenched a little.  It was very close to time, if anything, she preferred people to be early, but she couldn’t suppose a teenager would be aware of such social niceties.  Most likely still believed that “fashionably late” applied to all occasions, including work.

Hardly. 

  Perhaps it was time Josephine came up with her own rules: five minutes early is on time, on time was late. 

She’d give her the run down shortly.  No need to inundate their very first introduction with the rules.  She had some sense of personability – even if it was only for a very measured amount of time.   

When she approached, Josephine’s face did not change.  She merely turned her pointed chin and looked her green eyes set on the young woman.  Yes, she matched the picture Josephine had in her head.  There were no requirements for such information to be shared – merely qualifications – but someone just had an aura about them, even through writing. 

“A pleasure,” Josephine greeted coolly, extending her hand forward as well and gave her a firm, swift shake.  There was no time to linger on pleasantries. 

Doing a three-quarter turn, Josephine looked over to her and raised her eyebrows.  “We’ll stop by the offices first, and then I’ll take you about the building.  Mind your feet – scuffing the floor is highly frowned upon.”  She then completed her turn and started along, the heels of her shoes clicking unmercifully against the marble flooring.  Thankfully, a very carefully applied and balanced sticking charm made the shoes impervious to slips. 

There was a staircase to go about and a long hall, which Josephine walked quickly, she expected the young trainee to memorize this quickly.  "You won't have your own office," she informed her, "until you pass your training qualifications and are instated to a region.  Even then, you won't be here very often - providing you are good at your job, that is.  Granted, under my training - if you aren't," she let out a delicate little snort, "it won't be on my record."

As she was appraised— however briefly— Magda stood still, her own face seeming to mirror the woman’s lack of surprise or emotion. It was not an unpleasant expression, simply a guarded one… like someone beginning a round of cards. It was an easy, natural countenance for Magdalena, who was rather guarded with her emotions in general… and then was as likely to share knitted brows or a frown as a smile.

(Though her handful of mentors were not the targets of such looks.)

There was a small smile, though, at the woman’s words, even if they were a formality. Magda’s lips tugged into that calm, agreeable look reserved for superiors.

Eyes remained trained on the woman as she turned. “Of course,” was her immediate response, the usual soft, song-like Scandinavian accent lending a melody that might mislead. She needn’t even respond to the rest: she wouldn’t have made it this far if she were the type to scuff floors. Those sorts of habits tended to be reflected in Durmstrang transcripts. Or at least in strata. Which was as important as one’s marks, ultimately.

It was in the personality; the body. Magda might scuff floors in a duel, in a head fight with an Legilimens, battling wits and inner demons with Lyov, but simply walking… One’s clumsiness or agility was a dire thing after certain threshold in the Spellworks discipline.

She followed the other witch, sped up a fraction to fall into step beside her, and then matched pace, eyes roaming their surroundings as she explained. Magdalena nodded lightly as they began to climb stairs. Any entry-level job worth its salt was bound to come with those sorts of stipulations; too cushiony an office (or any office at all, right away) was probably a sign someone was on the verge of reaching their peak. Before twenty. Not Magdalena. Like this witch clearly had, she wanted to earn those things. See the world and stay quick on her toes.

On the flip side, she wasn’t a coffee-fetching intern, and she felt something swell inside her, a rush of excitement, a vindication, when the Curse Breaker mentioned that she wouldn’t be there often. The small, polite smile she’d offered earlier seemed on the verge of returning. Her lips felt like they were buzzing as they reached the top of the landing and started down the hall.

“I know,” she promised, a rather resolute choice of words. “I applied with you first for that reason. I don’t want to be coddled.” If it was wise to be formal, she didn’t believe that this woman expected her to be a lamb. And so Magda went for it, candidly. “Where have you been stationed so far?” She asked, wondering if there might be a place or position the woman particularly coveted.

Josephine was at least mildly pleased.  The girl was able to keep up, she lifted her feet when she walked, and she didn’t fill the air with unnecessary chattering.  Gringotts was not the place where people just talked for no reason.  You never knew who was listening and who would use whatever you said either. 

It was a cut throat world for curse breakers.  No need to go down a road that would have the girl benched for any extended period of time.  Josephine lifted her chin a little higher and continued down the hallway, each door had a name emblazoned on the golden plaques on the doors – fellow curse breakers who didn’t spend much time here either probably had their doors enchanted with their own variations on spells that would leave someone with disfiguring reminders of their attempted break-in until that person got back to fix it. 

In fact, it’d be a gross lie if Josephine did not admit to doing the very same thing whenever she was out.  A curse breaker’s office was a place of secrets.  When they finally got in front of her door, Josephine poised her wand and wordlessly removed the wards that kept everything inside safe.  She might let the trainee know – but it would definitely not be any time soon.

The door swung open slowly as Eisenberg stroked her ego just a little bit.  Of course, they were an egotistical bunch, thinking they could break curses that hadn’t been spoken of since antiquity… it wasn’t something anyone who thought they were average could do.  It also spoke to the working style that they’d cultivated – individual, fast-paced and competitive.  “Your resume certainly appealed to me,” Josephine informed her, “And your connections certainly speak to a high caliber of magical talent.  That’s necessary in this job.” 

Josephine walked into the office and expertly navigated around some stacks of books she’d been looking through – for someone so careful in putting herself together, the office didn’t say the same thing.  Then, Eiseberg asked her question about where Josephine had been posted in active missions and a small smile flitted over her painted lips while she swerved around the desk to get back to her seat.  “Initially, I trained with others in Egypt.  There was a huge amount of interest in Egyptian goods at the time,” she informed her breezily, motioning to the chair across from her, the desk providing a suitable barrier. 

“I then moved between Egypt and Western Africa, most usually Ghana and Sierra Leone.”  She leaned her upper arms on the dark wood of the desk.  “More recently, I’ve been staying in the United Kingdom and Western Europe.  What regions are you interested in?”

Magdalena was confident in herself, but it was nice to hear that the witch with some of the highest standards in a cutthroat industry hadn’t dismissed her resume outright. Even if Magda thought it wasn’t easily dismissed. She knew how desired a position this was. Her eyes shot to miss Josephine's, and she gave her a look of understanding, not unlike a nod. It would be childish, perhaps, to thank her. Given what was expected. Given that Magda had just said she didn’t want coddling. “I hope to add to it,” was what came out of her mouth. A true and decisive statement.

Her eyes scanned the office, took in the detail, the spines of books. It was a departure, perhaps, from the sharply dressed woman with the no-nonsense tone, but it did look like an office that belonged to someone busy and successful, nonetheless. Used just enough, not complacent. Not clinical or neglected, either.

Egypt. It was an ideal position, a pinnacle for many a curse breaker. That it had been her first training ground meant that this witch had probably been one of the best from the start. Obviously. Or Magdalena would not have applied with her. It was a land rich in deep, earthly resource… and swathed in layer upon layer of ancient curses. The oldest, meanest kind. However warm the sands and sun, Magda knew its magic was dark and cold— not unlike that of places she hoped to concentrate her efforts. Dark and cold or a hellfire.

She sat down across from the witch, her posture emanating her Oberteil education, and emboldened with an interest only someone of a particular age could possess. “Have you been in the pyramids?” She asked. “What about their wars?” By which she meant Wizarding ones.

She had expected as much, that one earned one’s keep back here. But the younger witch had another destination in mind. Magda considered the question as her eyes slid over the handsome materials of the desk and chair. Her gaze met Josephine’s again. “Those places, certainly. I know the more diamond rich a place, the more curses one will encounter. But eventually… Northern and Eastern Europe. Scandinavia. Russia.” Cold places, rocky terrain, mountains. Alchemist’s caves long abandoned but strongly desired. Their ownership disputed by newer lines of sovereignty. Lands where only the northern lights shone, or further east, where a crawling rail car was the warmest thing. There, resources were rich in other ways. Whether the banks had uses for them or not did not make them less interesting to Magdalena. “I’m drawn to the cold, I think,” she said, with a small, almost apologetic smile. “But I want to travel everywhere and be where the action is, too. Egypt seems very competitive.” Her tone said bring it on.

“You will,” Josephine replied simply.  No matter the career path one took once you’d been accepted to Gringotts, it was a sign of power and prowess.  Not everyone could do this job.  Those that did, well, there were many different kinds.  Josephine had colleagues who seldom looked like they’d seen the inside of anything other than a tent and went about their lives in an equally as barbaric way.  There were those that had settled on research and were now as plush and settled as their armchairs, and then there were those that tried to make a mix of the two. 

There were perks of both, after all.  When she was younger she’d managed to garner quite a bit of experience working out of Africa for months at a time.  It was a favorable position, not many others wanted to be in the forests – nor in places that were being torn apart by muggle wars, let alone curses, but Josephine liked the challenge.  She rather hoped her little protégé here would be up for an equal, but different set of challenges. 

The world was such a different place; the political climate had changed dramatically, so it wasn’t necessarily the idea of impending war or anything – but goblin relations were tenuous and it was all balancing quite precariously.  Chess had always been a favorite of Josephine’s, along with Quidditch, but this was an entirely different form of mental exercise.  She wondered how much the new trainee knew of the muggle worlds she’d be stepping into.

As much as the wizarding aspects of the work were important, it was necessary to know and embrace muggles in the work. Those with extreme prejudices didn’t necessarily do well.  If you didn’t, you would be hard pressed to get close enough to many of the places that were both – like the pyramids.  Josephine nodded curtly at her question and explained briefly: “I inserted myself as an archaeologist with a team of muggles.  It’s the easiest way to get in and examine artifacts.”  She was curious to see how the girl would respond.


Regardless, war was a topic that Josephine waved her hand at.  “War makes business easier: distraction created by an enemy, no time to watch what you have.”  It’s why she’d managed to go to so many places torn apart by conflict.  You could be virtually invisible as you spirited away the things you were looking for – ancient artifacts were so much less important than lives and human cost that Josephine had made a number of illicit deals that had pushed her up the ranks and above colleagues who were less… inclined to pursue work like she was. 

She listened to the girl’s plans, however, and nodded.  Northern and Eastern Europe were lucrative – certainly not in the same way as the more gold rich place she’d gone, but there were situations to be taken advantage of and ways to get ahead that Josephine could certainly help this girl with.  “Well,” she started softly, “I will certainly see what I can do about securing some training time – and a much heavier cloak than I am accustomed to.”  She probably had contacts – and if not, it wasn’t a hard sell. 

“You’ll want to spend some time in Egypt though, you are right.  It is extremely competitive.  I may be able to pen one of my contacts and see a more immediate assignment.”  She took a piece of parchment and jotted the note to herself so she would make sure to attend to that later.  “Until then,” she laid her quill down delicately on the desk top and looked up, “would you care to see the vaults?”

Another tiny smile formed on her lips. There was easy resolution in the other witch’s voice, as if the alternative— that Magda should not add to her repertoire, become a much more skilled witch— were simply nonexistent. Which was exactly the sort of truth that Magdalena wanted. If it was only the beginning, and the calmest part of the training to come, quitting or failing or meeting a quick end weren’t options. She would find her want for mastery sated in the dirt and dark, in the oldest, earthiest, least forgiving (and most rewarding) places— or monoliths like this one, traps gilded in gold. And all of it, alongside this woman. Who, promisingly, still found the time to look and sound as if she owned Gringotts itself.

“Were you allowed to employ Obliviation? Or,” she paused, sitting up a little, leveling Josephine’s gaze. “Controlling magic?” A euphemism, to be sure. The Unforgiveables were just that. Magda’s mouth widened into a more obvious smile. “Not that I doubt it’s easy to convince them.”

Magdalena knew the dangers of attempting to lord over muggles; plenty close to her had fought to prevent magical dictators with such mindsets. But she was still a witch who believed that magic was superior to a wandless life of religion and slow-crawling advance. Magic was the most natural thing in the world, the oldest and the newest. And her, a part of her body, a thing moved by her mind and heart. There were only rare moments when she was without it, and a very select number of people around to see it.

“I assume there others doing the same... Imposters we should watch out for.” Occlumency would help protect against them. And Magda was hungry to learn its sister branch, too. It was just a matter of convincing a would-be teacher. Perhaps Lyov was open to a trade.

Her chin lifted a little in acknowledgement as the woman explained that war made things easier. The word enemy resonated, seemed a confirmation, in a way, of what she’d assumed. There was a race, no doubt, for many of the artifacts. Conning muggles was the easy part.

Magda had heard a few varying opinions on her plans— not that she had shared them with too many. But it was this witch’s words that she weighed most carefully. The lack of dismissal was a good sign. “I would be grateful.”

And then another grin. “I know plenty of Nordic tailors. The cold is comfortable after a while,” she promised. Or there ways to make it so. But first, the heat. “I’ll find books on archaeology. If you have any recommendations, I’ll buy them this evening.” Or whenever their orientation let out. Magda didn’t assume this was a nine-to-five career. “I would love to see the vaults.” And she meant it, that word so sparse on her tongue.

Ah she was truly a curious student, and eager to boot.  That was good.  This work required hunger for something more and she showed the signs of it right from the bat.  Tactics in missions were… up to the gringott’s employee’s discretion for the most part.  There were things that were obviously frowned upon, but Goblins generally had their own ways and if you were out of England… well… it hardly seemed to matter. 

Josephine shrugged her shoulders, almost in afterthought to the question.  “We do what we can, and international laws… well,” she looked over the girl, “you best be studying up on the statutes overseas.  I’m sure you’re well versed in quite a few already.”  The benefits of having an international recruit were building. 

It was even better that she was under Josephine’s tutelage.  She’d never imagined being the teacher-type.  You had to care too much, listen too much; Josephine only did those things when they served her.  Thankfully, the two things had come at a crossing and Josephine was benefitting herself.  It was somehow better to have someone else – raw and new – along side.  Though, it seemed a very strong raw and new talent when she talked about mind magic. 

There was only room for “It could be useful.”  She was practiced in blocking such magic, of course, but it wasn’t her specific skill set.  It wasn’t in Josephine’s best interest to reveal her lack of the skill, at least not yet, so she remained vague and was happy to stand up from her desk.  There was a rack hanging on the sidewall: made of chestnut wood and gleaming with a layer of varnish.  The brass hooks were filled with a variety of keys.  Josephine plucked one round of keys off the first hook and turned quickly on her heel.

“We will trade: a list of your tailors for my books,” she smirked at her protégé and walked toward the door, briskly passing the chair with the girl in it.  She’d know to follow – she was smart. 

Josephine flicked her wand and the doors of her office.  “I’ll be taking you to several different levels of vaults.  We’ll be attending the first several levels by ourselves,” she held up the keys, “and then we will require the company of a goblin to access the oldest vaults.  You mustn’t touch anything,” she looked over her shoulder, “but keep yours eye open.  I may decide to test you.” 

Of course she would, Josephine had decided that before the girl had even gotten here, but now as they walked down the hallway again, Josephine was happy to be going into the vaults.  As much as she liked the gilded hallways, there was something supremely medieval about the vaults that she quite liked.  It was good juxtaposition to her appearance. 

Glancing over her shoulder, Josephine just made sure she had her tail along and breezed through the entrance hall again, sweeping into the entryway to the vault area with the carts.  They still had a ways to go, however, down stairs lined with torches and pillars of rock hanging from the ceiling, popping up from the floor… delightfully dark.

Magda did little, this time, to conceal the satisfaction on her face. There was agreement and understanding in her eyes when Josephine suggested she study the statutes if she hadn’t already. Of course she had, but there was always a higher bar of achievement. It wouldn’t hurt, to commit the most sweeping statutes to memory. “I’ll look at Egypt’s laws, too, if that’s a likely destination.”

She reigned herself in for the witch’s reaction to her mention of mind magic. She would bring it up again, when they had covered the basics, but now was clearly not the time. Even if this new path gave her few opportunities to use it, Magda was determined to strengthen those skills, which were perhaps her most guarded and best-loved.

Her eyes drank in the keys, each the guardian of a new threshold.

Mirroring the smirk with one of her own, she spryly sprung to her feet. The office was soon abandoned for the corridor. “It’s a deal,” she decided. And it was fair trade, given just how cold the north could get. One couldn’t absorb the knowledge of a book without first absorbing heat. And that was hard to come by, sometimes.

“Are they all accessed by cart?” Magda asked, having been in Gringotts vaults before, but only her family’s. Those, of course, required goblin company. She was interested to know whether some were accessible by foot or hidden passage, shortcuts, other measures. Perhaps there were areas where easy magic did the trick.

Rather than make her nervous, the idea of a test made her excited. She stood straighter as she walked, as if one could control one’s height. And she did feel taller, as they traded the opulence for ancient caverns.

Taller, and then smaller.

The carts were misleadingly still, like sleeping cats. She knew as soon as they took off, that it would have a mind for nothing but their destination. And then, it was still up to them. But Magda was accustomed to wild rides, if of a different sort. The absence of softness here was familiar.

As they climbed in, the witch’s grip on her wand tightened, and she kept it up at an angle, lit with a silent lumos.

The question was a legitimate one, Josephine figured for her first cart ride.  She was happy to take the girl down, show her things she’d probably only read about – the razzle dazzle was an important part of the introduction period to any career.  The best curse breakers were a bunch who had been exposed to the good stuff early – experienced success and wanted that feeling again and again and again. 

Josephine wanted to be the best; she’d wanted that since she was seventeen years old.  Even when she was taking care of her father, she’d kept reading and studying and doing her best to hone a craft that revolved around success.  She could see the same drive to be accessed in this girl, so she nodded to acknowledge the inquiry.  “The lower levels of security are fairly reliant on walking,” she explained.  “We’ll need a cart – and a goblin,” the word rolled off her tongue a little less kindly than one who worked with them all of the time might talk about them. 

Either way, she would request presence of a goblin later.  They’d look at the less guarded vaults in the meantime.  She allowed Magda to enter the cart first and the creaking metal as they both settled in and the cart bore their weight was a familiar sound to Josephine.  She sat and lit her wand, tapping it on the side of the cart which set it – slowly at first- into action. 

“We’ll be going to the minimum security vaults first,” she informed her, and the cart immediately dipped over the tracks, taking a quick turn and dipped again.  Shadows were cast all over the cavern and Josephine didn’t even bat an eye.  It was a familiar track, she knew the dips and curves before they even happened. 

When the cart screeched to a halt – this must have been one of the older ones.  Granted, they were all fairly ancient.  Either way, Josephine tapped her wand to the cart again and the door unhinged, allowing them to exit in front of heavy doors and a thin walkway that connected all of them.  There were less than two feet between them and a plunge into the rest of the cavern.  Josephine didn’t bat an eyelash. 

She looked at the keys while she talked, looking at the tops of each for the numbers that were carved into each one.  She located the first key to the vault in front of them.  “I expect you’ll be able to identify the purpose of the vault and the relative type of person who owns it by the contents,” she explained and put the key in the lock, twisting it with the force required to open the large lock.  Nothing like a good challenge. 

The doors opened and Josephine motioned for the girl to go in.  “I’ll give you a moment to explore.”  There was nothing in the vault that was cursed or dangerous for the girl to get in trouble with.  She just had to examine the various artifacts (of no significant value) and the small piles of money and she’d be set.  Hopefully she'd also remember the level of security was relative to the importance of the vault as well, it was a major clue.

Magdalena wasn’t repelled by the idea of needing to use the carts often, luckily. It would have been a pathetic thing, for a witch or wizard with the capability to become a cursebreaker to be ruined by motion sickness. She found herself agreeing, too, with the tone Josephine used for the word goblin. It was as if that hurdle was more annoying than the cart.

And, in most ways, it was. Carts weren’t thinking, breathing things who talked back. Goblins were like house-elves’ ugly, opinionated cousins. But they were also in charge of the gold, and thus an unfortunate necessity.

As the cart began to move, Magda straightened her spine and placed her free hand on its shallow wall. The kind of chilly wind that disobeyed nature— sunny, summer months— met them as they came around a bend. Magda was not so put off by it as she was curious to arrive at their destination. Her eyelids felt heavy in the damp cool, but she kept her icy gaze open and alert, taking in cavernous contours and attempting to memorize the upper tracks.

Josephine, behind her, seemed to breeze through it, and so Magda kept her silence, too.

The cry of wheels slowing was matched with a quicker stop than one might have anticipated, but she held tight and rose slowly, brushing her clothes as she climbed out after her new boss. The narrow path had her glancing down more than once, but Magda did not want to show any signs of apprehension. It wouldn’t be a good first impression. She kept close to the wall, mindful of her feet, and trained her eyes on the other witch as she spoke.

At the cursbreaker’s expectations, Magda eyed the key, attempting to memorize the look if it, despite the numbers. That would be her first clue, from now on.

As they stepped through the door, she first considered the size of the vault, including the ceiling’s height. It was not grandiose, nor even cavernous. Boxlike, dusty, and plain were words which came to mind. Even its gold could not make it particularly remarkable. She pointed her wand at the first of a couple of mounted lanterns, and set a spell that jumped from one to the next, lighting them. It was hardly necessary given the vault’s size, but practical enough.

The modest amount of gold and the brevity of their first cart ride when paired with the relative ease of one key and the vault’s size were clue enough of the person’s station. Not impoverished, certainly, but ordinary. Comfortable. It was the relics, an antique crystal ball, a set of gold-leaf books, and tea set which spoke the most. “This person is interested in Divination. He or she may even work in the field.” But it was not someone who had clearance in the Hall of Prophecies. Probably more something small time, like a chart maker or writer.

More books. A set of fancy quills. Framed newspaper articles. But... “Not someone who deals with sensitive documents or bestsellers. They’re an ordinary but low-risk, low-clearance type. A regular citizen. The vault is for regular spending and storing a few valuables. It’s not a family vault or company vault. A writer or... a shop owner, possibly.” She could think of few others than a business owner or self employee who might make a living Divining without teaching, writing, or working for the government. She turned to Josephine for confirmation.

Jospehine held wand and the keys at her hip as the door swung inward and she followed her young trainee inside.  The girl lifted her wand to light the lanterns in the cell and Josephine smirked, it was a good first move.  She’d need to observe everything and the light that leaked in from high above them in the ceilings of the cavern would not be enough to truly see what was going on.

She knew the key before she knew the contents of the vault and it was a personal vault, an older woman who had made some of her living off of divining and was now retired, having stored away her most valuable possessions for safe keeping.  She waited patiently for Eisenberg to begin speaking.  A good teacher could wait a very long time without speaking.  Wasting words devaluaed the ones that did come out of your mouth. 

Josephine liked all things to be of value, so she kept her mouth shut and her arms relaxed by her side, just waiting and looking.  When the girl opened her mouth, starting to puzzle through the belongings, Josephine felt a healthy sense of pride.  She’d picked a candidate with excellent observational skills.  It was a blessing; she would not have to explain much if she could do all of this without Josephine even opening her mouth, she’d do well in the field.  There were, of course, drawbacks as well. 

An observant protégé meant someone else watching one’s actions and Josephine preferred to do some of her transactions without the watchful eyes of a young and ambitious young person watching.  Some things were just too powerful and important for that.  Hopefully, Eisenberg would not find herself mixed up in such a thing and use her skills for what Josephine told her to.  When Eisenberg concluded, Josephine nodded and walked around the small vault, “You are correct,” she informed her, “Mrs. Calpurnia Heffernen,” she explained, “widowed nearly twenty years ago, owned a small shop in Whitby, North Yorkshire.”  She glanced over at the girl who was standing still, “She has seven children and an assortment of cats in numbers larger than I care to count,” she nudged a pile of gold with her foot and watched the galleons on the top shake and then slide down the pile to the floor, in front of Eisenberg’s feet. 

“You’ve passed your first test,” she informed her.  “Are you ready for a second?”  It was a question, but she didn’t wait for the answer.  Josephine swept out of the vault and motioned her to follow, brandishing the key to lock the heavy doors once more.  The cart was waiting and they still had a few vaults yet that she could take her too without the supervision of a goblin.  The next had very rudimentary anti-theft spells on it.  She’d be asking the girl to dismantle the charms before they entered – since she should be aware of the most basic bits of magic related to the field without Josephine having to go much into it. 

They’d get there quickly too, as long as the girl didn’t dawdle and followed straight away into the cart, where Josephine perched once again, waiting for Eisenberg before they could begin on the descent down several more stories worth of vaults.   

Seven children. Seven Horcruxes sounded more easily manageable, to Magda. A litter of kids and cats weren’t on the menu— not for years, at least, and not that many. She had enough of a time trying to wrangle certain friends. And she was a more than capable witch.

Magda let her wand sweep once more, slowly, over the vault and its contents. She didn’t want to be the owner of an ordinary vault. Low security. Average. ‘More than capable’ needed to stand for extraordinary.

This was her thought as she pointed her wand toward the cavernous honeycomb of tracks and the rickety little cart.

Magda nodded once, resolutely. “Definitely.” She said it like a breeze, the quick and strong kind. But then, the girlish side came out, and she added, with an edge of excitement, "Anything you want to throw at me.” She smirked a little, the kind that she tried to keep off her lips when making a formal impression; it thus ended up a pleasant little kiss. Magda was pleased.

Once the door was locked and the blonde had climbed back into the cart after her mentor, they took off again, Magda feeling ever more at ease with this mode of travel. It might have been the goblins’ establishment, but it didn’t mean they couldn’t make it theirs. (It helped, she supposed, that thus far no goblins had appeared in their underground caves.)

When they arrived at the next vault— a storied building’s height down into the dark— Magda knew from the heaviness of the doors alone that these were a bit fuller than the ones above. But they were also more spaced out, and perhaps little more guarded. One could almost feel the magic, like a word hanging in the air. But there was still no goblin, nor the fabled dragons and other beasts Magda knew were in the belly of this place.

As Josephine went about unlocking the next door, the Dane studied her carefully, everything from the key to the wandwork, the word uttered, no doubt, for her benefit. There was an extra step here, and the key seemed more temperamental than the last, as if it could read the person fitting it into the lock.

As they stepped in, lamps lit themselves, a charm triggered by the threshold. Her initial thought was that this vault’s owner was at least twice as rich as the previous— but closer inspection told her he or she might be even more so. While certainly not the vault of the aristocratic top shelf, it belonged to someone moneyed and established.

Magda ran her fingers a half-centimeter above a finally stacked display of gold coins. Most of the vault was money, but there were a few telltale signs. Framed accomplishments, Ministry official in their presentation. “They’re very comfortable. He or she might come from money, but not one of the oldest families. They likely made a good portion of it themselves. They’re a Ministry careerist, maybe a department head, and they might a few lucrative offers on the side, or they’re just very good at saving.” She looked at another stack of gold as she spoke. “Because the security was moderate but not impossible, they probably don’t run The Department of Mysteries.” She looked at Josephine again, smiling mildly in the glow of money. “Does that spell you did recognize your wand?” She gestured to the door.

The ride down barely bothered Josephine at all.  The carts were trouble, in general, temperamental things, but she’d been around long enough to know that when you shut the gated door you had to lift up before you pushed it all the way in – lest the door get stuck and it would wobble uncomfortable the entire way down.  Rackety tracks aside, it often made young trainees feel quite like they’d lose their lunch (she’d even seen it happen a couple of times).  Today was not the day for Magdelena to learn that lesson however, particularly not while Josephine was sitting next to her in the cart. 

They ascended quickly and Josephine had contemplated letting the girl try and figure out her own way into the vault, but there were some very nasty little tricks that some liked to throw onto their vaults.  She knew this particular vault – aware of its intricacies and the wards against theft against it. 

So, when they stepped off the cart, Josephine made quick work of getting the key and using her wand to break the wards (she’d reset them after, of course).  She was most concerned with getting into the vault to test Eisenberg.  She had no interest in destroying her confidence on the first day of the job.  It helped to build at first, give them a taste of success and confidence – if they deserved it.  Eisenberg had shown up with that privilege. 

Josephine had high hopes.  So, when they entered the vault, Josephine stood to the side and let Eisenberg observe.  She had a piercing sort of expression as she looked over the items in the vault that said she was thinking – and deeply.  A small smile crossed Josephine’s face as she stood and watched her trainee with a calculating look on her face.  It was interesting where she started: class.  Josephine supposed that wasn’t odd for a girl who had attended an institution marking its students in their castes before they even moved forward.  Eastern Europe’s peculiarities aside, she had more to say. 

She nodded with a hum at her appraisal and crossed her arms over her chest.  “Observant.”  It was a simple compliment – Josephine may have believed in building her confidence – but she didn’t want to have to take her down a peg – that was never pretty.   “My friend,” Josephine referred to the vault owner cryptically.  He would not like some young thing from another country to know his name (lest she recognize him, of course), “is an official – quite stingy as well – though, he’d argue – as you said – very good at saving.”  She smirked and walked toward the girl in the middle of the vault. 

“Some vaults have their own additional security,” she explained to the young woman.  “The owner of this vault wished for some extra care to be given, despite the shallowness of his vault location – inflated sense of self, I’m sure,” she added breezily, “But, I put the wards on for him.  Familiarity on my end, not on its – I’m afraid.”  She appreciated the girl’s idea though.  “A little deeper yet for that kind of security,” she grinned before settling into an extended, thoughtful silence. 

“The oldest family vaults usually require a member of the lineage to be present, with his or her wand, to gain entry.  Fortunately, with me, you’ll see many of those.  Though, less for individuals – it’s not uncommon to visit the vault for the Museum.”  There was only one that was good enough for Josephine, “and several international dignitaries and figures as well.” 

Judging by the smile, Magdalena was puzzling through it in the right direction; if it had more to do with the way she puzzled, the Dane wasn't the worrying sort. Analytical, yes, but as long as the path she chose brought her to the next unlocked vault... 

Staying inside the lines had never been a personal priority.

Her new mentor seemed plenty comfortable being choosy with her words, or spending them as she would. It was another sign, Magda thought, that they were a good match. Those elders who droned on for the sake of it and expected young people to hang on every word were hard to swallow at times; the ones who never cracked a word could be infuriating in a way that even Magdalena didn't always find a welcome challenge. But Josephine had a way of keeping her attention, an air that demanded the teen's respect. Her palm was warm with want of magic, the kind Josephine had used to so easily unlock someone else's vault. For now, Magda would take the affirmative assessment with amenable quiet.

Her friend. That begged a question, came with a look like a lion perking up from a nap. But she kept her lips closed, still. (Magda had more interest in his 'official' status and what perks it might bring to the job than what Josephine's relationship might be with the man, though, naturally, she couldn't blame any high official for his interest.)

"He'll have a very nice retirement... whenever that might be." Her tone let it be known that she knew better than to keep poking, but there was still a playful bite to it. She becoming more comfortable around this woman, especially the deeper they wound into the caverns. 

But perhaps the two were not such close friends, and the man not such an important official, given what was said next. Magda listened carefully, realizing that the wards and security weren't necessarily applied in a black and white way-- just like everything else about the career path. Magda had known more than one person who had gone to great lengths to protect their own vaults at branches in Northern Europe. One school friend's family had a fabled account in the Swiss branch. There had been rumors his father had sent a howler threatening to have the Obliviators track down everyone he'd mentioned it to. "Do the clients pay more, or do they just have to know the right people?" Magda asked, eyes sweeping over Josephine in gesture. A bit of both, perhaps.

So the ward was acheiveable-- when they decided she was ready to earn it. Magda tilted her chin up a bit, obviously listening close now.

"Blood magic," she said, the nostalgia a strange accompaniment to the word blood. "I remember visiting for the first time with my mother." But there hadn't been several fun stops along the way, nor a Cursebreaker. Only a Goblin, for whom it had been just another routine trip. "But an organization like the museum keep its vault among the old ones," she observered, pondering the differences between blood magic and whatever security clearance was needed for their board, treasurer, or whomever they allowed anywhere near the place. The list couldn't be long. Whatever Magda's opinion of goblins, she trusted her the security of her belongings in Gringotts. And yet... "Are there ever gaps? When everyone who has clearance is gone, or there's a question of inheritence, does the ownership simply revert to the goblins?" 

She knew what most of the purebloods she knew would say to that.