Wanderlust ~ Thursday 4th of January 1979

[Katya Karkaroff]

Life was chaotic as it was, but this business with the British Ministry and the vigilante group known as Death Eaters seemed to only amplify things. Katya tried her best to stay out of all things politics and simply enjoy her time in the beautiful streets of wizarding London, but even she couldn’t avoid the pamphlets that practically rained from the sky demonizing muggles or muggleborn, or the posters advocating citizens to turn in their neighbors if they saw anything “suspicious”. Normally Kat would have found relief in her work, but for reasons having absolutely nothing to do with her, she had been denied a work visa. Her dream job was dangling in front of her and could be ripped away at any moment, all because Soviet Union and America were in a pissing contest. Damned politics.

After flirting with the pretty witch in the atrium and getting directions to the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Katya found herself in a long hallway. She scanned the door numbers until she found the one she needed and entered cautiously. It wasn't a small office and yet there seemed too little space for all the desks and furniture. She looked over the various wizards and witches with their noses buried in their work and identified the man she had been referred to. Katya had to admit he was as handsome as the welcome witch had previously claimed but he appeared to be the youngest person in the office and Katya had to wonder if the pretty witch had only recommended him because she fancied him.

"Privet." She smiled at the young wizard as she approached his desk. "The lady at front desk said you could help me." Without waiting for an invitation, Katya pulled a chair out and sat, setting a folder of paperwork in front of him. It was a hodgepodge collection of former rental agreements, her citizenship and birth certificate, and letters of character from friends, family, and former employers. She wasn't sure what she might need to prove that she wasn't a Soviet spy as the American Magical Congress was alleging, but she hoped they could get this ridiculous mistake corrected before the restaurant gave the head chef position away.

*hello

[Ethan Vanderhyde]

The start of a new year wasn't something Ethan typically put stake in. No matter how enthusiastically a resolution was shouted over the din at midnight, they were made to be broken days in, not taken seriously. The calendar changing its page didn't mean anything, not really. But after the year he had had, albeit privately, he was ready to pretend, until he believed, that it could. That the past was past. That he had moved on from a love that may not have ever worked out, even if he had done everything right; that he could accept what the Mark on his arm meant, and push down any rising guilt that would only suffocate him; that his concerns for what awaited his sister after her graduation were valid, yes, but they still had time. They had months to plan, and even if nothing else progressed until June - his flat was spacious enough for the two of them. As long as he rearranged...most of his things.

The year had ended with a mess of a month, a disastrous night out with someone he thankfully could still call a friend, and while he would never have guessed - he was grateful for Charles and Lydia's winter wonderland of a wedding. To be sure, it had been difficult. Meredith was everywhere, close as she was with the bride, and beautiful as ever. There was nothing but ice in her eyes for him, though, in stark contrast to one of Lydia's cousins who'd made the trek. Even after their fun sneaking away the reception, he still didn't know a word of Portuguese, but the gorgeous witch hadn't seemed to mind any more than he did. The wedding, the holidays, New Year's - the rush of frivolity clashed with forced appearances at home, and Ethan was ready for Natalie to return to school, if it only meant he didn't need to attend at the manor for her sake.

The world of the law office kept going, waiting for no one, least of all someone who was shy yet of his first year at a desk. He was learning, always learning, but it seemed as much time as he put in, there was always paperwork up to his elbows and more to read, digest, untangle. It was so different from school, where high marks were simple, where it was easy to stand out - but Ethan felt renewed, in a way, returning to the office post-holiday. He'd started receiving cases of his own, to do the background of at the very least, and was interrupted from his latest by a file dropped unceremoniously atop his work. Ethan looked up in surprise, realizing that the words he'd assumed were for someone else - endless chatter to tune out from desk-to-desk, after all - were for him, to meet the eye of a stunning witch. Smiling, expectant, stunning.

"Well, I'd hate to make a liar out of her." Euphadora, what are you up to? The welcome witch had been in better spirits in these last days as well, and was perhaps having too much fun with her powers at reception, and he'd have to thank her later. Or, this witch had an issue he could actually help with. Ethan set aside the file he'd been reading, neatly lining it up in his "in" tray with the others, and took hers in his curious hands. What was it she said? "Privet"? "What seems to be the problem?"

[Katya Karkaroff]

It seemed to take the young man much longer than was expected to process that he was being spoken to, and again Kat worried that she'd been led astray by the pretty brunette. She was typically a good judge of character but those mix-colored eyes had bewildered her and now, away from the little minx's presence, Katya was doubting there was anything of substance behind those eyes. He was young and slow. They were not off to a great start, but in the least he would be able to direct her to a more senior servicewizard in the office to address her case. And if all else failed, she supposed she did have her cousin. In a recent letter from home, her mother had suggested she track down her cousin Igor who was also living in the UK. Apparently he had aligned himself with some very capable people in Britain's government, but nothing that her mother's letter described sounded at all like what she actually needed. Britain's government was split into so many tiny, frivolous departments and she doubted the people legislating the size of a cauldron or the number of fliers permitted to be posted on a single lamp post could do much about a cold war between two different nations both vying to spoil her opportunities for travel and fun.

"The Americans," she answered plainly, her thick Russian accent stretching the words slowly. Her right leg crossed over her left and she leaned into the chair comfortably - or as comfortably as the wooden back would permit. "They have somehow come to conclusion I am spy for my homeland, but had no problems permitting me to work while I lived there. Ksenofobskiye pridurki," she added under her breath. Her time spent in New York had been amazing. The friends she had made, the cultures she had experienced, and the food - for the love of Merlin; the food! - it was all a dream come true. Even as she plotted her next great adventure abroad, Katya knew she would return to the states several times over, so this accusation their government had baselessly thrown at her upon her departure was somehow more heartbreaking than having to leave her American friends behind. Still, she was determined to correct the error, start this new chapter in her story, and carry on with her life in the manner she alone dictated for herself. No bureaucratic red tape was going to stop her.

"I do not know how to prove it false, so I brought you everything." She shrugged as she gestured to the folder he now held, praying he was smarter than his years let on. 

*xenophobic assholes

[Ethan Vanderhyde]

It was going to be a thank you, then, to Euphadora - for dropping the most fascinating case into his lap, if nothing else.

The witch spoke, frustration evident, and Ethan was enthralled. Accused of spying by the Americans, after she'd left their country? Because of her homeland? That's Russian she's speaking, isn't it? Igor had the same sort of accent, the same lengthening to his vowels, replacement of certain sounds when speaking English. He shoved the previous case from his thoughts, mind latching onto each snippet of information she gave and starting to catalogue it. This case was far beyond anything he had directly had his hands on before, and while this office was supposed to serve as a cover, a backup - he was interested in the work, and Ethan wasn't about to let this case out of his sight. Could there be a better one to use to prove his worth here? Two feuding countries, and she was attacked by a baseless accusation? Chosen at random to add fuel to their fire? With such a claim made, anything she tried to do here had to have been stalled - renting, working, communicating abroad...

It was more than a discrimination suit, and MACUSA breaking its own laws. Attempting to pin such a label to her when - he hoped - there was no way it could stick? The Americans never knew when to leave well enough alone, and when this got out, the embarrassment for them would be monumental...

"Is that all?" In his excitement, he met her eye with the crack of a smile. Ethan opened the file to find her name, and continued as evenly as he could while his blood ran cold.

Coincidence. It has to be a coincidence. It's a common enough name.

    You don't know that.

It could be a common enough name.

"I can help you, Ms. Karkaroff. You're not going to be a pawn in their game for much longer, I promise. We are going to be here for some time, however, to go through this so I can start building your case. Coffee, tea? I presume you were applying for a visa here, and the allegation came instead?" Not knowing how else such a thing could have come her way, Ethan was curious...and hopeful that he was correct. While it would be interesting to learn of another way, it would do little to build her confidence in him, should he be wrong. Spoke too soon already? Get it together, Vanderhyde - this could be the big one. He laid the open file between them as he got himself situated. Quill and ink just so, a fresh sheaf of parchment at the ready for note-taking.

[Katya Karkaroff]

A sarcastic retort to her tale and a smile from the young wizard did little to help ease Katya’s uncertainty about his ability, but she had to admit that she was impressed with his accurate pronunciation of her surname. “Most Englishmen struggle with my name.” Her slightly raised eyebrows hinted that she was impressed with him – in only this regard. “Coffee would be lovely, spasibo.”

“Da. I have job waiting for me in London, but no visa to permit me to work. I am chef,” she explained, unsure whether her occupation would be of any weight in this matter but willing to give whatever details might help him resolve this for her. Kat found his confidence promising, and she relaxed slightly into her chair. “I am staying at hotel in Diagon Alley. No one will rent me apartment without visa. So, I am stuck but I am not leaving without resolving this.” She liked hotels well enough, and even spent a fair amount of time in hostels during her travels so the luxuries of the rooms above the Leaky Cauldron were not unappealing, but the extended stay without a proper kitchen to herself was becoming tiresome. Not only was it more costly to eat out at restaurants or fetch take away for all of her meals, something her bank vault could handle but not without notice, but she simply missed being able to create her own dishes. A chef without a kitchen was like a dragon without its wings. Inhumane.

*thank you

[Ethan Vanderhyde]

Ethan's eyes flitted to meet hers as the witch changed her tone. An infinitesimally minor change in tone, clocked by one whose ability to read shifting moods was necessary a survival skill in society's den. It served him in this office - and beyond, naturally, even if a number of his new "colleagues" were subtle as Fireballs - as tells gave away truths and lies in equal measure. And he bit back a grin, settling for a self-satisfied subdued smirk, unable to fully reel himself in at the hint of approval from the beauty. Who knew - if Katya was a relation of Igor's, perhaps he was in for an unexpected boon on that front as well.

"You haven't been speaking with the right ones, then," he replied, nodding at her presumed thanks and rising from his desk, hiding slipping her file in among his others, just for a moment. "There are those who have trouble with mine, too. Ethan Vanderhyde - at your service." He was off with a flash of a grin; the coffee cart was mere steps away, but the competition among the cohort of first-years was almost as bloodthirsty as the recently Marked. All were clawing to make names for themselves - Ethan included, as he would fully admit - and he'd be damned before one of them swept in to steal Katya Karkaroff's case. Even if he did not end up defending her himself, giving a member of their senior staff an intriguing and expertly prepared portfolio would be another point in his favor. He returned quickly with a pair of steaming mugs, a warning glare given over his client's head to a competitor eyeing her - Don't even think about it, Coulter. - that disappeared as he took back his seat, and her file. Katya began to speak, and his quill whipped across the page in his hand, a smile flickering across his face at her tone. They were going to need every ounce of her conviction to push the matter through expediently, no matter how much he meant his promise to have this resolved for her. Ethan's fingers flew as he tabbed through the papers she'd brought with her, reorganizing into categories as he went.

"You really did bring everything," he echoed, thumb brushing across the two-headed eagles of a raised Durmstrang seal. Graduated not three years, and she's worked in how many cities? She'd collected compliments, experience, addresses from cities he couldn't bring to life even in his imagination. All of that adventure grinding to a halt because of this bureaucratic mess - and living in a hotel in Diagon Alley, had to be the Leaky Cauldron, a woman like her should never have had to settle for one of those rooms - had to be driving her up a wall. "It's a good thing - you'd be surprised, how many people come with only their own word to defend themselves. And you've secured employment here already, that's major..."

He bit his cheek, scanning again through the ream of accolades and records, quill bouncing in his fingers. Everything she presented was lining up. And the allegation had still come. "I'm on your side here, Ms. Karkaroff. I believe you," he said simply, dropping his voice and his quill as he looked across the desk to her. If the allegation was as baseless as it seemed, he could not wait for the appropriate offices to receive the international shakedowns that they deserved. Nothing Igor had done could be influencing this, he'd never been to America - had he? Talkative as he was, surely the stories would have been told. "And I need you to forgive me - I have to ask, so we can be prepared to defend you. Is there anything, anything you can think of that may have been twisted by them to support the allegation? Or something done by a family member, a friend, a partner, that's being pinned on you?"

[Katya Karkaroff]

“Da, I agree. They are all idiots so far. You are not idiot, I hope, Mr Vahnderheed?” She repeated his name exactly how it had sounded in her ears, but the vowels came out longer and distorted. There was a hint of amusement in her eye as she watched him tuck her file away before standing to fetch her a beverage. She caught his gaze looking over her head and knew better than turn and gawk like a child at whomever had caught his eye. She supposed hers was an interesting situation from the outside, something one might write in a comic book for teenage boys to idolize and pick apart with endless discussion, but as it happened to be her real life, the predatory behavior from the men of this office was most unwelcomed. She was not a casefile. Her life was not a toy to be played with whether by governments or by mere wizards. She accepted the mug he presented her and, after giving it a cursory sniff, she took a careful sip.

He began speaking and she set the bland coffee onto the edge of his desk as she listened. “If I get this resolved in time,” she corrected. The job was an amazing opportunity, one that Kat did not take lightly and therefore she understood the gravity of this delay. “I could find other work if this took longer than expected, but if you sort it in timely manner you will have my thanks. And a pie for your trouble, if you like.” She could bribe him with more than baked goods, if need be, but he’d yet to prove himself worthy of anything more than a pie thus far.

Ethan leaned forward, his voice dropping and the tone of their conversation already heavy grew heavier. “Mr Vahnderheed, if there is some documentation I have not supplied that will be of support, I am happy to retrieve it. I have brought you everything I am aware of. If I have friend or lover who has done something to bring this on me, they did not share it with me. I have had no conversations with family members about spying.” Katerina could never, her darling sister who did everything she was told. Short of the Kremlin’s direct orders, there was no world in which Katya could see Katerina ever getting tangled up in the likes of a cold war. And her parents… It was laughable that anyone in her immediate family had anything to do with this mess. They were happier with her abroad, they would have done nothing to force her home. And of her extended family, well, beyond a few owls over the years she couldn’t even recall the last time she’d actually spoken to her father’s side of the family. Happenstance brought her to the same country as her cousin, not espionage, and she knew just as much about what Igor got up to than he did about her life. Kat leaned forward to match him, voice even as she reiterated, “Whatever it is the Americans claim I am doing, I am not. If someone in my life is doing something like this, they have not spoken to me about it.”

[Ethan Vanderhyde]

Should he have been offended by how easily she dismissed all of his fellow Englishmen? Perhaps. But he was far too charmed by how Katya spoke his name. It wasn't a deliberate mispronunciation on her end, or so he wanted to believe, simply her accent playing with its vowels. "I wouldn't be here if I was," Ethan replied, before going to get their coffees. In truth, the building was lousy with fools who didn't deserve a desk, and a fair few were hanging on in this department by a thread, much to his chagrin. But all he had to do was wait - and needle at them when he could. It was only a matter of time before everything changed for the better, after all.

He was quickly back with their mugs, although his sat growing cold by the minute as he assessed her file. It was thorough, showing her education by various international institutes, work and rental records - no red flags that he could see. And the witch was anxious, underneath her irritation at the whole affair. He nodded at the correction - she was right, after all, the restaurant couldn't be expected to wait on her for long - but was shortly trying to hide his delight shock in his lackluster coffee. A pie?

Had anyone ever in his life offered dessert as a thanks, a reward? Much less, one that they had made themselves, as he presumed the ambitious chef may do? Never. Sweets were a rarity at the manor even in their childhoods, the senior Vanderhyde viewing such pretty indulgences as wasteful, gluttonous, an easy slope downwards to their base temptations - and their mother was often more preoccupied with her distant delusions than the pouting of her children. It was more difficult to exercise restraint at school around the holidays, as the tables themselves seemed to sag under the weight of desserts, the air itself heady with cloves and cinnamon and… "That’s hardly necessary, Ms. Karkaroff," Ethan assured, recovered from his surprise at the offer, as well as he could. Even as he admitted, with a slip of a boyish smile, "I am partial to banoffee."

He leaned in, wanting to trust that she was here in good faith. It would be more than reckless to do as she was if she wasn't, right? Katya matched him, eyes locked - and would his supervisor believe him too? Or think he was an idiot allowing a beautiful woman to hoodwink him so easily "Good. Then we'll resolve this, and make them pay." He sat back, shoulders set. With the help of a doubling charm, her file quietly became two to the side as they went on. "We'll go through the timeline of events for the record, and then I'll have everything I need to bring to my supervisor. If we're going to move quickly, we need his name attached. Trust me - he's got a bite like a Ridgeback," he added, eyes flitting to one of the few walled offices with a chuckle. Venom dripped from Norwood's teeth as soon as they closed around an opponent, such was his knack for taking even ordinary cases and making them exponentially worse for the opposition, and few wanted to get close enough to attempt besting him - he was their best bet in avoiding a drawn-out fight. "He may ask for you to repeat this process under Veritaserum," Ethan forewarned, re-inking his quill in readiness, "but that won't be a problem, as long as what you say today lines up with that testimony. Let's start with your entry to America - no impediments from MACUSA at that time?"

[Katya Karkaroff]

Men were simple creatures, and old adages were often true. The way to a man’s heart was through their stomach and while she did not require Mr. Vanderhyde’s heart, per se, she did need the expertise of his position and this office behind her if she was going to have any luck sorting out this fiasco in a timely manner. She would, of course, be able to find work elsewhere if they took too long, or even find another exciting destination to call home for whatever length of time suited her, but Katya was headstrong and knew what she wanted. This opportunity was too good to pass up. At her still young age, a head chef position didn’t simply fall into one’s lap every day. She would have freedom to create her own menu items, ensure her impeccable standards were upheld. And when she was done with work she would have London to explore and enjoy. The museums, the nightlife, the history. It was all fascinating and she wanted needed to experience it all. Whatever she needed to do to get this wizard and his team to resolve her visa, she would do without question. A banoffee pie was an infinitesimal sacrifice to make for her dreams, even if she wasn’t accustomed to making this particular flavor.

Ethan sat back, resolved, and Katya felt her chin rise slightly buoyed by his confidence. Already she was mentally making note of everything she would require in a home as she restarted her hunt for an apartment. Getting ahead of herself was never a problem for long, as she was the embodiment of volka nogi koryat. Her paperwork duplicated and warnings given about what the remainder of the process might entail – veritaserum seemed an extreme step in the process but she supposed taking on the American government without such an assurance wouldn’t be wise on their part. “Da. That will not be problem. Whatever I can do to expedite the process, you tell me and I do.” Pies and all.

Time ticked by as Katya recounted her time in America, the bland coffee slowly disappearing from her mug. From her visa application prior to her arrival in the country, to the little seventh floor walk-up she shared with two housemates in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen, to her myriad of odd jobs while attending culinary school in Brooklyn; Katya relayed it all. There had been a single incident in her first year in New York with the no-maj police when a neighbor had reported a break in of their apartment before Kat had finished her shift at the diner and while her roommates were gone visiting their families for Christmas but beyond that, Katya’s only interactions with American legal bodies was in being granted admittance into the country.

*A wolf is fed by its legs.