River smiled. "Except when your watching, that is?" Cae had incredible talent for the visual arts. Ocllo respected that... and stayed out of her way when she was working. Cae was highly focused when she painted, and would become quickly irritable and icy if River interrupted her or looked over her shoulder for too long. In fact it was quite clear that Caelum preferred to work on the painting when she and Richard were alone... "I'm sure she will get the portrait talking soon." River tilted her head to one side. "How is... everything else going between you two?" She did not want to pry where she might not be welcome, but she was curious. Part of that curiosity was selfish, she had never dated anyone herself and she craved insight to that strange institution. The other part that curiosity was fear for her friend, Caelum was beautiful but she also was one of the most confusing humans River had ever met, passionate and distant at the same time. She sometimes seemed disinterested, yet she had gotten herself involved in all their activities. She seemed like someone difficult to get close to, complicated, but perhaps Richard liked that. Richard was a bit mysterious himself at times. She rested her elbows on the banister and clasped her hands looking back toward the parade.

Richard smiled at her. Yes, the painting seemed particularly active when he was around. Maybe it recognized him as its model, and observed him for behavioral cues. As he understood it from reading, even the best paintings had to sort of learn to mimic their subjects. Painting Richard was off to an exceptional start. Probably it was down to Caelum's talent that it was learning so quickly. She was certainly amazing... River interrupted his wistful thoughts with a question about Cae. She was like a mother hen, the way she tried to interfere... no, that was a harsh word. He didn't mean to think of her like that. She was always trying to help him and Addie, and probably in ways that they didn't realize they needed. He opened up a surprising amount in his answer to her question. "There isn't much else lately. Fuckin' OWLS," he pronounced the acronym phonetically, "Keep us too busy. The painting is the last of our free alone time. We talk a bit during that. Mostly I do, to try to get the personality in the painting right."

River studied Richard. Wondering if his personality could be captured in paint. It was a very poetic question and she smiled as she mused upon it. "There is an American poet... How does it go... she says... that they say... that they... have wondered... What they see in me. They try so much But they can't touch My inner mystery. When I try to show them They say they still can't see." River pulled out a small notebook from her back pocket, she wrote herself a short note, a reminder to look up the poem later. She wanted to remember the rest. "It might not be a lot of time between classes, but she is a painter, right? This might be the best way she knows... how to... get close to you. Get to know you. Right? It probably means a lot to her."

Adelfonsus’ boots crunched on the balled up snow of the pavement. They finally made it to Vancouver. After some much encouraging from Fonsus, his sister drove them to the Canadian city. It was a two hour drive, shoved in the back of her ford truck. Fonsus held the door open as his two friends climbed out. He slammed it shut and waved to his sister. She honked twice before peeling off. The agreed time was a 6pm pickup at the same spot so they could be home for dinner and his mother wouldn’t get any ideas of their whereabouts.

“Right.” Fonsus said. He adjusted the beanie on his head, pulling it down to cover the tips of his ears. He clapped his hands together suddenly, waking himself up and startling the others. He cleared his throat.

“Rich, uh, do you have the address? Oh, wait. It might be in here.” He swung off the backpack he brought with. In it was some valuable items such as a paper map, pencils, Canadian cash, some snacks and water, and, of course, a scrap piece of paper with the Vancouver address where they were hoping to find Prof. Crowley. (he kept the bag spare…in case they needed to swipe some things. Like a book Richard might think would help them with the painting project.)

“Yup.” He zipped up the pack and whipped out his phone. With a few taps, they had their GPS running. “It’s going to be the general location, so we’ll have to keep an eye for what we’re looking for… It’s a half an hour walk. You guys ready?”

This was as far north as River had ever been. Colder than the city they had left behind, but the cold here was more pleasant. The cold here was cleaner, crisp, more pure.

She had been quiet on the drive over. She had gotten a car-sick. This wasn't surprising, she didn't take long car rides often anymore. If she traveled outside school in the city she walked or took a subway under the streets. The rare cab ride was never more than a few blocks. When traveling with other magicians over long distances the floo or portkey was choice.

She enjoyed her own quiet during the drive. She hadn't been to this part of the continent before, she leaned her head to the glass and let her eyes discover the snow-swathed landscape.

River thanked Addie's sister before stepping out, then stood in the snow with her friends. She hung back as Fonsus produced the navigation tools, watching the car vanish into the distance.

No turning back... Until 6 that is...

She pulled her hat over her ears. It was a grey and purple knit. Her socks matched in color and cable-knit pattern. They were created by the same hands, distant cousin with a holiday-hobby. The hat was too small and the socks were too big.

She leaned down to pull her socks up inside her boots. These were plain dark leather that laced up her shins. They were wonderfully warm and waterproof, muggle made, perfect for the snow. Her coat was coal grey, draping down to mid-thigh. She forgot her gloves in the car, and tucked her long dark fingers into her coat pockets.

"I'm ready." She said, looking for their path. She was looking forward to the hike, but, reminded herself that this was not a pleasure hike on an ordinary holiday vacation with friends... "Have we thought about what... We are going to say to him?"

... They had a mission... Clowers!

"I was thinking we can start with 'Hey, d'ja kill anyone lately?' but we'll see how it goes first." Richard looked back at River and quickly apologized for his sarcasm, "Sorry, just cold." He was dressed the worst of the three of them, in an old patched tan jacket, and his worn jeans and tennis shoes.

"I don't really expect us to find out anything from talking to him. It's like you said, auror's will've interviewed him plenty, I can't imagine he'll tell us anything he didn't tell them. I want to see his books, I'm sure he'll have some, can't have much to do but read there. I dunno what I'll looking for, just hoping I'll know it when I see it."

He had read most of Clowers' writing, but didn't get the slightest glimpse that he had ever studied magical portraiture. But then, it was more of a Charms subject, and most of his stuff was Dark Arts defense. Probably he wouldn't have written anything, even if he'd studied it personally.

"So, we're going to pretend we're students, and we're studying his book in our Defense Against the Dark Arts class - I put it in your bag, Fonsus - and we had some questions about his sources for the most common jinxes and hexes."

“Yeah, it’s right here.” Fonsus confirmed the book in his pack. He zipped up the backpack and hoisted it onto his shoulders. “Maybe we should think up of some questions as we walk? You know, authenticity… or… something. Hey, Rich, if you’re cold, you can take my scarf.”

They had started their journey and walked down the sidewalk. Fonsus unravelled the cozy knitted scarf from his neck. It wasn’t that long but its fluffy blue yarn made up in bulk. He handed it to his best friend. “I’m kind of used to the weather here, so take it.”

Fonsus wore a pair of jeans, a jacket, and his trusty old beanie. He never cared for gloves. He found them bulky and limiting, especially when practicing wand flicking. So he wore none. But he kept his hands in his pockets. It was chillier than he anticipated.

“Would it be too obvious if we asked about memories and hexes?” Fonsus mused out loud. “You can affect the physical person of somebody but would it be possible for things that are less tangible?”

“What do you think, River? I guess we’ll be doing the distracting while Rich snoops around. Anything you’d want to know?”

"Maybe we can split it up. So it is not as obvious." River suggested, she moved her hair out from her eyes. Her hat was creating static charge and wayward hair was sticking to her face. "Like, Fonsus, maybe you are doing a project on hexes, for instance. No one would be surprised at that. I know you can cook up some questions above the cut of the average student."

"Richard, you can bring up the charms and paintings by talking about Cae. You can mention your girlfriend.. Or... Whatever... Is into doing magical paintings. Right?"

~~~

Caelum was working on her painting of Ricahrd. She brought the painting home to work on. She was in her bedroom at home, a high rise in Manhattan. She had wide windows looking out over the city. She could hear her father in the kitchen burning the turkey while on a work call.

She rolled her eyes, and turned up the music in her headphones to drown out the chatter, and closed the door so she didn't smell the burning.

Then she looked to her painting. She was not sure she was allowed to take it with her, but, she also did not ask.

Art belonged to the artist Not to muggles or wizzard. Especially not this one... This was not a school project, it was hers... and Richard's.

She gazed at the boy for long moments, then dipped her brush into the paint, and made a stroke here... A stroke there... Yet, she was having a problem with her artistic direction. She usually had a clear vision to follow for her work, a driving force that was hard to ignore. This Muse, however, was a trickster. She worked on the painting, yet, she always thought there was something she was missing, some quality she could neither capture nor define. It was frustrating.

She turned away from the painting, frowning. Stirring her bespelled paint... She had recently altered the mixture, to try and better capture her subject.

"It is like I can't really see him..." She whispered. "Not the real him anyway..." She was frustrated that her new paint did not seem to be working. "Or... Is it because I can't see... My own feelings?" She looked towards her door, beyond it, her father cursed as he touched a pan without an oven-mitt "I wonder if he would come over for Christmass... Would you like that, Richard?" She turned to the panting, smiling, as she asked him the question...

... Then she saw it. Her lips opening slightly. "Well... That's... Very very interesting." She went back to the painting, touching the wet paint of his hair with her bare fingers now, understanding dawning on her. "Very interesting, my dear..."

~~~

River was still speculating. "Maybe we can just say we wanted to look after him, and make sure he was okay." She frowned a bit. "I mean, Fonsus and I were his students anyway. That might make sense more than working on a school projet, like, he would wonder why we did not just get a book..."

"There it is!" She smiled as it came into view.

Richard took the scarf from Fonsus quietly, and wrapped it around his neck and mouth, stuffing the excess down the front of his jacket.

Richard shook his head at River.

"That's too obvious, I think. If he is the one who done it, that'd be a dead give away that we're on to him. And I don't think we need a vampire to know we also suspect him of being a murderer. I think memories are safe to ask about, as long as we ask as a part of a larger question. Like Addie says, we can ask about less tangible effects of hexes, magic that's hard to trace. And on that subject, we can also bring up hiding a body, though that'll be a tricky segue."

River pointed out as they approached. A recovery home for part-humans was surprisingly easy to hide from muggle eyes. It was made out to be a group home for those unfit to live by themselves. Exactly what that meant wasn't clear from the exterior, but it was a safe enough bet that nobody would go to such a place unless they were visiting a specific person.

It was a cheery blue painted building, with a lot of windows facing the front. Curiously, very few of these choice rooms seemed to have tenants. As they walked in, they were greeted with a long front desk, behind which was a mural of magical creatures. A muggle might think it was a fun fantasy setting, but it had several telltale signs that it was painted by someone who actually knew a thing or two about the magical world. Richard was smiling at a little niffler in the bottom left corner, and he saw it wink briefly at him before turning back to stalking a leprechaun's gold.

There was a young blonde witch behind the counter, and she looked altogether startled to have any visitors.

"G-good morning," she said, standing up suddenly. "Welcome to Enchanted Acres Group Home. We, uh, we don't typically take volunteers. Sorry."

“You know,” Fonsus said as they neared the building. “I was expecting something different.” However, as they entered the building, Fonsus wasn’t disappointed. He swept his gaze over the mural, nodding his appreciation for the art. He saw the receptionist second, and, for a moment, he halted in his reply. Volunteers? His brows ticked upward at the thought.

“Ah, no. We’re, uh, not volunteers. We came to visit an old professor of ours. Professor Clowers. We were his students last year… We would like to see him.” Fonsus finished lamely.

The blonde witch pushed her brows together as she pulled in the information. “Clowers…” she muttered. Her eyes grew a tad wide in recognition of the name. “Uh, please, wait here. I have to… get our director.” She disappeared before their eyes. Her heels clicking down a hall could be heard as the blonde rushed to find her manager.

“Huh.” Fonsus blinked. He turned to his friends. “Do you think we’ll get to see him? Or,” His brows furrowed and his voice dropped to a whisper. “is he here because you-know-what?”

“The director?” River had never visited a magical rehab center before, she was not sure of the visitor protocol. It made her nervous though. That they would meet the Director of the establishment. More eyes on them meant they were more likely to get caught... Caught doing what though? Visiting a teacher? Trying to discover what had happened to their long lost classmates... That wasn't criminal, surely? Would anyone be so angry if they were just looking for answers?

Unless someone had something to hide....

“Maybe he just isn't so stable... I mean if he is a va... What we think... Maybe they wouldn't let him see... Regular people...”

She frowned, then turned to the boys. “Or maybe we should have come at night?” She said as she tugged off her mittens and began to unbutton her coat, she was starting to thaw.

She glanced back to Fonsus, puzzling over his implication. “You mean what happened to Katherine... and Jon?” She dropped her voice to match his as she spoke. “Wouldn’t we know that though? If he was blamed or punished?” She looked to Richard. She knew a conspiracy was on the table of their theories.

Richard spoke out very quietly, "If they did anything to him because of that, it wouldn't be just putting him in a home. Unless... this place isn't so nice past those doors."

As he gestured at them, they swung open, and Richard dropped his hand quickly. Out walked the same witch, as well as a tired looking wizard. He had the look of someone who was much younger than he seemed, as if his graying hair and lined face were a result of strain and not age.

"Hey," he said, surprising Richard with his casual demeanor, "I'm Flannigan, I run this home. To be frank, we don't really get visitors that we weren't expecting ahead of time. It's a pretty private kind of place. That being said, just being here implies a level of familiarity. I take it you know why Professor Clowers is here?"

River felt her spine tingle as she regarded the doors with Richard. If this facility served... special magical populations… Was vampirism the worst of the lot? Who else resided in this building, conversing with Clowers, were they friends? Was the staff special too? It didn’t seem like a prison, yet, she wondered.

“We’re sorry we didn’t send an Owl ahead, our visit was a bit… Impromptu. And, yes, we know about the Professor.” She frowned a bit, genuine curiosity and concern peeling into her voice. “Are we allowed to visit him? Is he well?”

Flannigan smiled, and looked suddenly like a much kinder man. "He's doing very well, excellent progress. I'm sure he'll be glad his students still want to see him, I know he wants to go back to teaching," Richard gave the briefest of glances at Addie, "Yeah, come on back. Just, y'know, don't open any doors or leave your wand lying around."

"No wands here," Richard said, "We're all underage anyway."

Flannigan opened the door, and led them past the bemused reception witch. The home was in fact just as nice on the other side of the doors, there were more murals on the walls, these ones much more overtly magical, and clearly from anmultitude of artists of varying skill level. It was a hallway, about eight feet wide that stretched back further than the building should have allowed. The doors were numbered, but also had name plaques on them, and many were painted as well, apparently by the occupants.

They found "Clowers, P." nestled between "Grimm B." and "Morhaime S." His door was painted, inexpertly, with a scene of a wizard's duel under a crescent moon. Richard thought he should ask to take pictures for Cae, but Flannigan knocked and opened the door before he could bring it up.

The room inside was dark, and at first Richard thought they had caught him sleeping, but then two candles suddenly flared to life and revealed a tall, pale man with blond hair and glasses. He was sitting in an armchair with a book, and tucking his wand away, apparently having just used it to light the room.

It was small, but one might say cozy, with no windows. The bed in the corner was neatly made, and in addition to some painting supplies he had a writing desk and a bookshelf. The book he was reading was entitled Defensive Magical Theory, by Wilburt Slinkhard. He also had a quill nearby and was apparently making notes directly on the book.

"Unwen!" He said, in surprise, but no small amount of delight, "Rivera! I hadn't heard from any students, I assumed nobody told you where I was. And who's this?" He indicated Richard.

Fonsus followed his friends through the doors and down the hall. He missed Richard’s look, stuck in his own thoughts. The whole setup was weird. The director was far too casual about this. Or, perhaps, their plan was actually working? Truth be told, Fonsus was nervous about the whole operation. If they got caught, they’d alert his mom. Since she was responsible for all three of them…! He really didn’t want to know the repercussions.

Last-minute jitters were cast aside when the door opened, revealing their target. Despite their ulterior motives, relief swept through Fonsus at the familiar face. He guessed some part of him was worried over the professor. The professor, after all, used to teach his favorite class (probably the only one he’s proficient in).

“Professor Clowers!” Fonsus said. His hand weighed on Richard’s shoulder and he gestured to his best friend. “This is Richard. He’s new! Transferred or something.”

“Do you mind if we, uh, ask you some questions? We’ve got a new professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts, and we have a project we’re working on. We’re supposed to use references and we thought you’d make a great one…Being the, uh, previous…professor and all.”

River bit the inside of her cheek, watching Addie take the lead on their cover story.

"We also wanted to check on you." She added softening her deep voice. "We were visiting Fonsus's family out here and... Well... It all kind of worked out."

She let her gaze float away from Clowers and around the room. Then she turned to Addie, saying. "I think you have the best handle on the project, I... Don't remember... Or understand... What we are supposed to ask..." She looked at the floor as if ashamed, then and looked away from Addie and the professor, letting herself stray towards a neat bookshelf.

In class, River had like Clowers. She was quiet and shy in all her classes, and unlike other teachers, Clowers left her at peace. He never called her out in front of the class to display her magical inequities. He quietly gave her a mediocre grade, and, didn't bother her when she was reading her own books instead of getting overwhelmed by class content.

It wasn't out of character for her to be uninterested in the group project now, and, Richard didn't know Clowers at all, his seeming lack of interest would be equally appropriate. If Addie could keep the professor occupied, then, Richard and River could get a proper look around. She smiled, it was a smart strategy that Fonsus hand employed.

"This place is a lot nicer than I thought it would be." Addie would talk about the project, River decided that she would add the personal touches. She didn't think it was believable that they took this trip only for a project. They needed to show concern...

... And... Wasn't that concern real? When she found out about the missing students, and Clower not returning... Hadn't she felt... Sad? Uncertain? Curious about what had happened..? She would need to be less of an actress than she thought!

As she looked around the room, she was impressed by how personalized his space was, this was less and less like any hospital or medical facility she had ever been in. She reached out to trace her fingers across a trio of red-spined books. She would have been amused to find the full 'Twilight' series on his shelf, but, she didn't expect him to have... "Fairy Poetry?" The books were old, and, he was missing the second. It was an epic fairy romance. It starts with a wizard becoming trapped inside a spinning castle, he had chased his lover over a hedge, not knowing she was actually a fey-king in disguise. The fey king was on their own quest, to make the castle be still and break an ancient geas... The adventure was both fanciful and indulgent the events of the story ludicrous even by wizarding standards, but the poetry and verse itself were considered skillful, and there some speculation and intrigue concerning the identity of the original author. "I haven't read this one..." She had always wanted to, copies were rare.

If she started by looking at his fiction, maybe, he would pay her little mind as she expanded her search for... evidence... What were they looking for? What if he became suspicious of them? Would he know? Could... Do vampires read minds? Could he hear her heartbeat quickening?

She hoped that Addie had a lot of ideas. The more questions he asked the more time She and Richard would have.

"Or something," Richard muttered as he walked past Addie.

"Well," Professor Clowers said, dropping the book with no great care onto a side table, "I certainly wouldn't mind, it would be more useful than notating that pile of garbage. So, ask away." He looked at them with polite interest.

Richard let River walk right by him as he addressed the teacher. "Well, you probably know the new professor is teaching out of your book..."

Apparently he did not know this, as he looked around between Richard and Addie in surprise. "Good heavens! I didn't, but that does explain why you'd come to me."

Richard made a mental note of that.

"Oh, well... he is. So our main focus has been defense against other wizards. A lot of people are focusing on the war, but we wanted to look into smaller scale dark magic."

River glanced back as Richard spoke. "Oh yeah..." Then let her voice trail off as if she had almost caught interest in their homework. She shelved fairy poetry and walking along the shelf.

"The new teacher... I think this is his first job, he's young and... nervous."

She returned to the shelf and stopped to inspect a book attractively bound with purple and mauve leather. She pulled from the shelf: 'The Book of Poison & Passion. Conjugal Concoctions: for lovers past, present, and passing on.'

In the book there were a number of options to help... end a relationship. Forgetting potions, poisoning (of course), and certainly more subtle means, such as to turn eager eyes elsewhere...

There was also one for tracking a lover, to see if they were betraying you. River made a mental note of this page. If they had someone they wanted to follow or keep tabs on, this could be useful.

She couldn't help but thumb through the section for... fostering successful relationships. Some potions made her frown with ethical angst, while others made her blush, she noted two or three others in this section that might be... Useful... for the investigation, of course!

She moved along, 'Elemental Emblems', 'Forged and Forgotten, a History of Ancient Arms and Alchemy.' In both these books, there were a few passages on imbuing and altering magic items. Apparently once a magick item was settled, it was very difficult to change it's properties, yet possible. Maybe there was something in here that could be applied to changing the memories of the portraits.

She kept browsing 'In Defense of Daemonology', 'Embalam, Curse, Libate', 'The Hidden Power of Retrograde.' Titles and titles shifted past her eyes.

She stopped again at 'Drawing with the Right Side of the Wand.' An art book! She pulled it off the shelf. "Hey, Richard... I think Caelum would like this one." She said loud enough to be heard but not loud enough to interrupt their conversation with Clowers. "Or maybe she's already read it." It looked like a beginner's book, and, Cae's work was fairly advanced. She opened it up. She didn't really understand how paintings were made and animated. Something like... Charms and Transfiguration mashed up...
'Portraits of the Darkness Disguised.' She noticed, occupied the next space. It was a larger book, as an art book should be, it's spine had enough room for a mini-portrait. One glare from Vlad-The-Impaler made her swallow hard, and, not wish to look at the rest of the book at all. She put down the drawing book moving along quickly to get away from Vlad. 'Small Charms for Great Harm.' Nosing through for something that might be of use...

Addie nodded along with the conversation. He also moved out of River’s way, placing himself in a position just off to Richard’s right. Rummaging in his pack he’d brought along for the trip, he pulled out his green notebook and a pen. Flipping to an unused page, he ran his hand over the page, pushing out unseen wrinkles of the paper. He marked the date in the corner and scribbled some title near the top. Adelfonsus was ready to take notes.

“We’re interested in the details of spells. Most defense and offense spells can be traced or tracked after casted and we wanted to focus on ‘if a wizard didn’t want to be caught after doing something bad, could they cover their tracks?’ Is there a possible way to eliminate evidence of a magic duel?”

"You may borrow the book, if you like," Clowers said to River, "It's rather basic, but I've found it helpful, though don't ask to see my paintings!" He laughed, "I've only started recently.

"Now, to the subject at hand," he sat forward, showing a great deal of interest. "This is an excellent topic for a paper, a lot of people, especially young people, are more interested in a duel or combat itself; magical forensics is a sorely undervalued subject. First you must look at what evidence a duel, or indeed any crime, would leave at all. The damage caused by spells is an obvious problem, and far trickier than one might think. Many curses, especially the more powerful ones dark wizards are like to employ, cause damage that cannot be repaired. The most famous example is of course the scar that Lord Voldemort left on Harry Potter in his attempted murder.

"This difficulty, or even impossibility of hiding or repairing the damage extends not only to injured beings, but often inanimate objects as well. So. If you cannot hide the fact that a duel has taken place, or a spell cast, where does this leave us?"

Richard, distracted by Clowers' painting bench, did not answer.