Vignettes of an Ex-Witch: France

1993 March~~~

Matthias moved quickly, time was important, his hands full of papers the wizard struggled to balance them in his arms, turning a quick corner leading to a dark hallway. The pile was big, bigger than he’d expected, and Joan dammit he’d forgotten how heavy paper was, craning his neck to look over the top pages, breathing slowly through his nose lest he knock the first ten off, sending the others spiraling.

It teetered, and he careened against the nearest wall, rubbing against the dingy coloring, terror stricken that it all might fall down in a pile out of order. Gulping he steadied himself again, a spell from a coworker stacking them more efficiently against his body, “Thank you!” The wizard called back to his savior as they hurried past him to the main office.

Different colored sticky notes finally became visible, stuck on at various sections by Madame Laurent and Missus Baffier, carefully annotating connections he’d seen and recognized but had no way to explain to his superior in the upcoming meeting. The witches snatched the stacks from him a few weeks ago in the middle of his research and began discussions, “Matthias no, stop right there, if I want to show this cafe incident relates to his transactions in May, this is how we do it” and “Why is this put here? Walk me through it and we can reorganize it using this orange color to connect the shops with his later bank transactions through the shell company owned by the barista, I’ve been doing this for years, listen and I’ll tell you a better method, your current one is sufficiently lacking.” He shut his mouth and obliged.

With the witches’ expertise he’d increased his thoroughness, double checking the sources, triple checking the sources’ sources, not to mention the side stepping he had to do to make sure the information from third party sources even matched… or Joan forbid existed; it felt just like trying to find a house elf in a sea of goblins while drunk on elf wine (he’d never done it, but he knew people who fell for the prank, each and every one failed, owing the goblin in question ten galleons, that must have been how they became the best bankers in the business). The time it took… he didn’t even want to think about it, he couldn’t have finished it all alone even if he’d been given six months to prepare. To think the previous deputy of his department kept Madame Laurent and Missus Baffier busy “grabbing coffees” instead of cross referencing information; what a fool.

A quick wand flick sent the door open, and he leaned into it heading into one of the rooms, “Oops!” – wrong room, one of the auror contracted mediwizards sat discussing an injury with an informant – definitely in the wrong room.

“I’m so sorry, sorry, I really saw nothing!” Matthias called back quickly as he backed out of the room as fast as he could without toppling the pile, wand clutched in the bottom right hand. The second door had the correct number, how he could’ve mixed up a three and an eight were beyond him, Matthias muttered a spell and it opened inward at his request.

He shuffled into the dark room, a small lamp on the table in the corner, a few unlit candles hanging from the wall, most light came from floating orbs, just enough to illuminate the table where his immediate superior sat. The woman twirled her quill in one hand and ran a Galleon across the knuckles of the other, a blank expression on her face as she waited for him. Her eyes glanced up and she waved her wand to close the door behind him, clearing the desk for the pile as she reached for a cigarette. 

“Matthias, I know you wanted to be thorough, but this is too much information for us to even use.” She held her wand, a fire lit the cigarette tip, “Just how many of our people did you have rushing around to look at this instead of doing their own jobs?”

He carefully set down the pile, separating it out as necessary. She looked up at him over the quill, floated to the far edge of the rickety table to make room for the papers, carefully dabbing the cigarette butt on the ashtray within reach as she leaned forward for a cursory glance at the stacks of information.

“Well… ummm… you see Madame Laurent and Missus Baffier actually heard about my research, and wanted to put their knowledge and skills to use,” he muttered, running a hand through sweaty locks, pulling out a handkerchief to dab his forehead of stray beads of sweat from the brisk walk– he wasn’t nervous for this meeting, not at all, as a few more ran down his temple– “of course it helped that they were then too busy to do coffee runs–” The woman’s glare was fierce at first, until she smiled at the last statement. “– and ahhh, I am surprised they haven’t been put on the job more often, they work lightning fast, much faster than Monsieur Simon-haugg when he helped me last time, so I was so happy when they asked to be included as I worked. Couldn’t have done it without them. Credit on their portion will go to them regardless of what you say on the matter.”

Ms. Lavaud nodded, noting the pile in her direct view; a list of names on the top of the smaller stack, “You’re absolutely right in that Matthias, I’m glad someone saw the sense enough to break those two out of the confines of coffee runs. I’ll wrangle a quarterly bonus for them, with a second one if this pans out. Don’t worry, I’ll talk to our resources department and make sure they get all the recognition they deserve.”

She turned a page or two, “Now explain why this information is important to your work in the next couple of weeks. Last I heard you were tracking a completely different jewelry smuggling business, why look back at this defunct one? I see here you pulled an extensive amount of information on an informant this department used back in the ‘70s. I understand why you thought it might be useful, but he hasn’t been active for at least a decade, pension and all. Explain where you were headed with this, please.”

Matthias leaned forward, fingers snagging a page from the middle of the stack with a pink tag and bringing it to the front. “Well, uhhh, I thought that he may know something about the current smuggling ring. Just, ummm, the rules and people’s names have changed, maybe the current group learned a lot from the others. I didn’t go to him directly, obviously I know his knowledge is on a need to know basis, but I looked through most of his public records. And stopped by his house too. I was asking his neighbors about him a while back as I started preliminary research and they said a few odd things. But first–”

Laying atop a description of the ex-informant’s current whereabouts and a transcript of his neighborly discussions, Matthias pointed to a few underlined sections and brought out a city map to show the contrast. Ms. Lavaud tapped it with her wand, enlarging the area indicated; the house sat in a very nice spot in Nice, he saw her eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Well, well, well. Of course we had his address on file, but I didn’t realize this was the area where he lived.” She made the map smaller and ran her ringed finger along the names, all well off businesses in the area. They went over the geographical location a bit more before moving on to financial transactions. 

Ms. Lavaud leaned closer, looking down the list, “Why is his ownership of a spuffling spuffer, and a cloak from Monsieur Aguillard-Yacouba important?”

“Well a spuffling spuffer is a recent invention from Germany–” Matthias was cut off as she held up her hand, nodding furiously, humming in recognition.

“Oh, of course. I remember standing around near the coffee station last week, someone in the Misuse of Galleon Funds department was talking about it, you’re absolutely right, Monsieur Havet shouldn’t be able to afford it, we do know how many trips he took to Romania and Italy recently, and with those adding up, his savings should be pretty low. Affording that, even now, is way above his pay grade. Did you consider the possibility that it was a gift from his niece in Paris?”

“Uhhh, no, no, no; I doubt it, she’s currently too deep in debt.” Matthias shook his head. “As for the coat–” he pulled out a magazine from the “Magazine du porteur de sorcellerie”, a witches’ fashion magazine,  and another with a recent editorial from Paris raving at the avant garde trends Monsieur Aguillard-Yacouba pushed in recent fashion trends, lastly with a moving photograph of the piece Monsieur Havet purchased.

Ms. Lavaud muttered under her breath, counting out the number of monthly payments it should’ve cost the former informant to afford such an expensive piece of clothing. Indeed the elderly gentleman’s only living relative was his niece, and based on the department tags on her neither alone nor together could have afforded such a cloak. And yet, before her sat documentation on his purchase of a thousand galleon cloak two months prior. That was surprising, not to mention his later purchase of a spuffling spuffer, both were surprising affordances without loan sharks breathing down his neck. The woman pulled another drag on her cigarette, “hmmmm” she tapped her fingers, flipping back and forth through the pages in silence for a few minutes.

Matthias shifted in his seat, rubbing his hands together under the table, eyes darting about trying to see what she’d been interested in; bank transactions, letters in the mail, the wizard’s garbage collection, the number of gnomes in his garden, the– 

“And cross referencing a few bank transactions–” Matthias quickly darted his hands forward, shifting things around in a different order until he found the right papers, unable to stand the silence.

“You got those illegally didn’t you, we can’t possibly use them in wix court I’ll have you know.” She put the cigarette back down in the ashtray, yet still thumbed a few he’d set out. 

“I know that, Ms. Lavaud, but truly take a look.” He pushed a few more sheets in her direction. Her eyes widened, “That is a considerable amount of money.” She leaned back, subconsciously reaching back for the cigarette before it shortened too fast, bringing it to her lips and blowing the resulting puff of smoke out in the shape of a badger wolf, tapping her finger against her temple as she shifted her seated position. Slamming the chair legs back on the ground, the resulting screech made Matthias wince, shoulders jumping to his ears.

“– We may not legally be able to use this in court, but blackmail is definitely on the table. You are definitely on to something. I know you aren’t done yet, but let me call in Madame Ducasse; she’ll want to know this.”

Matthias’ face betrayed his emotion far too quickly, eyes widened, jaw open like a blubber fish, “Madame Ducasse?! But– but– but– she has so many other things to worry about, the Romanian issue and the actual jewelry thieves outside my investigations are not–”

The witch only waved a hand, pulling a wand to vanish the ashtray and cigarette, blowing a fresh stream of air around the room to clear the air. “Minor Agent Matthias, stop your wallowing, you’ve met her before, there’s nothing to be frightened about. The worst that can happen is she gives you one of those withering stares that seeps into your soul to the point of depression, leaving you to quietly clear your desk for the next hapless wix. Which won’t happen, last time it was a Ms. Illouz; she’d brought in the wrong information, a five minute discussion later she’d packed up and left like a dementor had snatched her sole reason for living, pun intended; last I heard she resurfaced and entered law school, and is probably much happier with the grueling hours there than those here.”

Her monologue cut short as she yanked the door open and marched back down the hallway, Matthias gaped at her, conjuring a glass of water, drinking at least three in rapid succession as he scrambled to put the papers in a neater order while he waited. 

Five, ten, fifteen minutes; he began regretting the water, pulling up an appallingly putrid-yellow handkerchief from his breast coat pocket, and dabbing his brow again, feeling the uncomfortable bumps of acne and dimples of old scarring from his teenage years, he hadn’t had the funds to fix his facial scarring at the time, and now he didn’t even bother. 

A few minutes later a woman stepped in, bright colorful clothes and a calm demeanour, “So, Matthias, Ms. Lavaud tells me you’ve gotten us some good information. Walk me through your process.”

Matthias stood up and shook her hand, “Great to see you again, Head Specialist Madame,” he kept shaking it until she carefully pried her hands from his and sat down, “–  your work recently in organizing the takedown of–”

“Yes, yes, it was well planned and managed to survive despite multiple setbacks as we were steadily surrounded. Could my oversight have been better? Absolutely, yes, but we are all still here today, not to talk about me, but to talk about what you’ve got right here. Speak.”

Matthias blushed, and fumbled his papers again, accidentally knocking a quill off the desk, he bent to pick it up and muddled his way through an explanation. “Well you see we’d been tracking this group from the south as they transferred a batch of cursed jewels through this area here,” he indicated it on the map, “I’d actually been on the mission last week near Andorra la Vella tracking them but we lost them. But I’d remembered a few stories from the senior agents about a group that worked in the area bringing things in from across the southeastern border, they were taken down a decade or two ago. Archival research brought to light their early and later organizational trademarks. I interviewed some of the specific individuals involved on our side who took them down. It was hard to get in touch with the ones still working in direct governmental positions though, so I had to use secondhand information in regards to their processes.”

“I do know the ones still in office.” Madame Ducasse stated, jotting down a few notes from the righted quill and Matthias nodded. 

“But many of them told me about a key figure who had since retired, he had been at the right place at the right time, gathering material on the group when he got something crucial that could be used against them, everyone I spoke with all said he was a key operational actor in taking down this group. I never actually got to interview the man, because he declined to be interviewed, but I asked his neighbors about a few things and they commented on his recent move to the area in the last five years, and on some new things he’d bought in the last few years, things just barely off the market that they’d all had an interest in, he even shared it with them, and I started to wonder.”

“Eventually I uncovered his bank statements, without warrant I’ll apologize for that, leading me to talk to the baristas at the local cafe where Monsieur Havet regularly visited with a group of friends. I asked a few people in archive to help me cross reference, and a couple of male colleagues helped interview others, and the female colleagues actually thought to talk to the gardeners and the house elves and gnomes in these key residences surrounding his home, we wouldn’t have thought of it otherwise. Either way, here.”

Matthias placed some banking statements and photographs on the table, showcasing the flow of money in and out of the retired agent’s account, a set of receipts pulled from his trash, and an oddly familiar set of faces at the coffee shop.

“You ran these photographs past the other group in our department for fact checking, correct?”

“Absolutely, there’s no denying that three of those people there have secondary ties to the current group, the cirque du crabe de feu. Myself and at least three others in our department have seen them in various magical shops in Nice during reconnaissance and information missions between the last six months to a year.” Matthias pulled out a few more photos with the people in question exiting a dark magic shop in Nice and another exiting a bookshop in Paris dated two weeks ago. 

“One of these appeared during the mission last week, is that right?”

“Correct,” he pointed to the redhead wizard with a long beard, “Monsieur Padou ran through the town of Anorre, near the prestigious Institut de magie d'Anorre, Anorra University of Magic, in the Pyrenees last week, we nearly caught him, but along with the jewelry he brought along a beast of unknown origin, it must’ve been sick, kept vomiting out slick goo or coughing up hairy fireballs therefore we uhhh, couldn’t follow fast enough.” His voice trailed off at the end, embarrassed at the blatant failure… couldn’t have been as bad as the one that happened two years ago, that one was in the gossip mill as one of the worst failures in the department in the last decade. 

“Well, Matthias, good work. Keep on solidifying this information, bring it back to Ms. Lavaud by Tuesday, and discuss with her the next steps. Don’t get caught with a sick beast this time. We need at least two more people caught from the cirque du crabe de feu, and we can definitely use this information to blackmail Monsieur Havet, and your coworkers can make it look as sinister as possible, they’re very good at that. Use this information to the best of your abilities.”

 Madame Ducasse stood, waving her wand and sorting the papers back into Matthias’ waiting hands, the wizard grinned like a fool, “Thank you so much Head Specialist Ducasse, madame, sir, madame, ma’am. I’ll get to work straight away.” He followed her out, tripping over air and nearly running headfirst into a nearby torch holder, a remnant from an older time, Matthias wasn’t even sure they didn’t still use them. His blue eyes lit up as he almost skipped down the hallway back to the open floor plan, a grin showing off his teeth, ready to piece together the next set of pieces to this puzzle.