[mini plot] May as well be in timbuktu [open! - complete]

With a flare of green flames, Julietta Ouellet found herself in the British Ministry of Magic.

Now, this wasn't where the young Frenchwoman was expecting to arrive. She'd said the name of the place that the circus was camped at the previous month, intending to go back briefly in search of something which she'd accidentally left behind - a bag of food for her kneazle which the pesky creature had dragged out of her caravan one night and she'd forgotten to bring back in - but had found herself in entirely the wrong place. This wasn't the empty field which the caravans had flown away from the previous day, this was a large building filled with thousands of witches and wizards in smart robes, which made her feel very small and shabby in her dirty jeans and discoloured cardigan (which used to be pink but was now more of a grey-pink). The 19 - soon to be 20 - year old was disorientated for a long moment, as she as sure she had spoken clearly, gazing around herself perplexed and inspecting the building. When the green flames flared up again in the fireplace she was still standing in, the former Bellefeuille leapt out of the way of a tall man and was swept towards a strange statue - no, fountain - by the crowds of magical folk. Being French and not having spent much time outside of her home country, Jules had never been to the British Ministry of Magic, so she had no clue where she was. Her mind going into overdrive as she attempted to figure out where she had arrived, she craned her neck round to count the number of fireplaces she was away from the end, so that she would be able to tell someone which one she had arrived in, in the case that it was something to do with that fireplace. Maybe the man who had arrived behind her had also intended to arrive somewhere else? Inwardly, the young woman cursed herself for not checking to see whether he was in a smart set of suit robes like the rest of these people were.

Fighting her way through the crowds, the circus worker made her way towards the large fountain in the centre of the atrium, apologising again and again to the people she bumped into on her way. She figured that the centrepiece of the room was probably the best place to head towards until she found an information desk of some sort, or a customer services. She'd come to the conclusion that this was a large company building, but when she'd asked someone where she was they'd given her a confused look that said 'sorry what?' before putting their head down and swiftly moving away from her, without even saying anything in reply, which was great. Juliet didn't know what country she was in so had just spoken in her native French, so perhaps they hadn't understood her... that would make sense. Keeping an eye out for any writing on newspapers that people were holding and signs above fireplaces and doorways, she managed to catch snatches of words in English, so by the time she had made her way to the base of the golden statue she'd concluded that she was in England - the very place where she had found Eldrich circus one whole year ago, almost to the day. Gazing up at the fountain in front of her, the former Bellefeuille was in awe. The immense object depicted a witch, wizard, house elf, centaur and goblin all standing together, with jets of water streaming out from various places. It was amazing. Suddenly a memory of a story she'd heard flickered to the front of the half-Russians mind: a story about a great golden fountain in the entrance of the British Ministry of Magic depicting unity for all magical creatures being replaced by a twisted representation of what was going on in Pureblood supremacists minds during the war. Putting two and two together, something clicked in the 19 year olds mind, and she realised she was in the atrium of the famed British Ministry of  Magic. But she needed to check that she was right, so looking round the girl caught sight of a person who wasn't running desperately to a meeting like half the other people around her were, they were simply perching on the edge of the fountain as they shuffled through their papers, and she approached them cautiously.

"Um.. excuse me?" She mumbled. The worker either didn't hear or didn't care, so Julie coughed and spoke again, this time louder. "Excuse me. Am I in the British Ministry of Magic?" She asked, nervously pulling her sleeves down over her hands.

And three... two... one... Edith Holthouse counted down as she second hand of the clock on the wall ticked closer and closer to the big twelve at the top. And there it was, thank goodness. The obliviator grabbed her messenger bag and slung it over her shoulder as she stood up from her desk. She hurried out of her cubicle as she tried to get to the lift as quickly as possible without actually running. Night shift was over and if Edith tried hard enough, she could make it to the pub while the breakfast special was still going on. She did all the necessary courtesies of half smiling and half waving to the incoming witches and wizards in her department as they came into work, but she was in no mood at all to stop and make any small talk.

The lift could not go fast enough. Why did she have to work on a floor that was sooo far away from the exit? This would not be the first time that Edith seriously considered a career change if it meant she could work three minutes less every day. The lift clambored to a stop at the atrium and Edith angrily pushed her way out as other witches and wizards pushed their way in. The atrium was as crowded as ever this morning, and way too many people looked way too happy for Edith's tastes. Ugh. She scrunched up her face as she waded her way upstream, moving against the general direction that everyone else was moving in.

As she passed the fountain, Edith saw a girl trying to ask ol' crotchety Joe for what seemed like directions. She stopped in an effort to eavesdrop, excited to see what Joe's reaction would be to this. He was known for being more than a little rude and Edith could definitely use the pick-me-up that the show would be sure to give. When she heard the actual question of Is this the British Ministry of Magic? Edith's eyes widened and she hurried over to the girl, inserting herself between ol' Joe and the question asker. That situation would have gone past hilarious and into downright-sad territory but it looked like she had managed to intervene before Joe heard the question. Even Edith would be more helpful than that guy.

"No, this is Brazil," Edith answered, rolling her eyes as dramatically as she could, before gently nudging the girl a few steps away from ol' Joe. She outstretched her arms on either side, whacking an old bloke unapologetically as she did, "We're in London," the former Gryffindor offered. "There's a 96% chance that this is the British Ministry..." Edith trailed off, dropping her arms. She raised an eyebrow at the girl as she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose with her index finger. This is the reason Edith hated night shift. All the crazy people were full of energy in the mornings and out in full force when she was running low, low, low on desire to be at work and be the helpful Ministry Witch that she was supposed to be. But, as her boss loved to remind her, she wasn't off the clock until she was out of the building. Merlin.

Edith inhaled, counted to three, then exhaled, her eyes closed. Opening them, Edith tried her hardest to smile but only managed to look like her diet was severely lacking in fiber. "British Ministry of Magic, yes," the witch finally finished with a nod. "I'm guessing this isn't what you were expecting?" Edith looked the other girl over, making sure that she wasn't one of her own obliviated projects that had gone terribly wrong.

The elderly man didn't seem to register the fact that she'd spoken for a second time for a long moment, and so Julietta was ready to give up and find someone else to ask when a young brunette in smart robes appeared in front of her, blocking her view of the man and stating, in English, that no, they were in Brazil. The 19 year old blinked a couple of times, suddenly even more confused than she as when she had first appeared here from the green flames in this strange place. Didn't they speak Portuguese in Brazil? So why had she seen English writing and this woman had spoken to her in English? Was there was a translation charm on this building? But then wouldn’t it have translated to French for her? The Circus Worker was so busy thinking about this that she missed the large eye roll from the Ministry Official, so she thought that she was being serious. Sadly, the 19 year old had never been the best at detecting sarcasm. She was too caught up in her own confusion that she didn’t think about it rationally. It just didn't make any sense... however, when the woman spoke again, it did make sense. Aaah, she had been joking - they were in the British Ministry of Magic. All of a sudden the Frenchwoman felt very stupid, and tucked a piece of mousy-brown hair behind her ear, hoping the Ministry Worker hadn't noticed her confusion, or the red blush that was creeping up her cheeks. If she had seen either of those things she'd most likely think that the Clockmakers daughter was either stupid or mad, and Julie liked to think she wasn't either of them, and she also liked other people to think she wasn’t either of them too.

"Uh, no, in fact, I wasn’t expecting to be here." The Beauxbatons graduate said levelly, tugging on her grey-pink sleeves so they covered her hands - a bad habit of hers that meant that most of her clothes with long sleeves had disfigured ends from being pulled on one side. All her other clothes were currently covered in mud and in need of a wash from when her kneazle, Sofie, had dragged them outside in the dead of the night (along with the bag of food she was returning to retrieve) and made a nest in the snow, which was why she was in this cardigan, which she hadn’t worn since joining the circus because of the state of the sleeves and the colour of it. As she spoke she took a moment to admire the architecture of the building which she would probably never find herself in, as she had always and always would be very curious about new things and new places. The green marble and golden statue made gave off an impression of grandeur and style, but the brunette had to drag her eyes away from the impressive high ceiling after a moment as she didn’t want this woman to think that she was being rude.   

"I wasn't expecting to be in England at all, in fact. I was expecting to be in Germany." She finished, raising an eyebrow and hoping this woman knew why she had mysteriously appeared here, and trying to stop herself from giving the woman a weird look at the grimace she had plastered onto her face. Was she trying to smile and failing miserably? Or trying to intimidate the 19 year old? Who knew, but Jules wasn’t about to ask. Right now she needed to figure out why she was here, then get to Germany then back to France again, without taking longer than she’d told the Ringmaster she would be. Perhaps there was something happening, a survey or something, that meant anyone who had flooed from somewhere had to first pass through this place to answer some questions or something… but she couldn’t see anyone taking surveys, or directions explaining why they were here. Surely if that was the answer then there would be more confused people like herself asking where they were? Or they’d have someone standing by the fireplaces explaining it, or big signs being held up with the answer on? At least she knew where she was now: England, specifically London, in the Atrium of the British Ministry of Magic. That was a start to figuring out this mystery.

Once the girl was addressing her directly, Edith finally understood it all. This girl was French. Edith had spent nearly a year hiding from snatchers and death eaters and other general crazy people in Chatoeil and knew just enough about the French language to be able to recognize when a French person tried to speak English. She nodded, turning her faked smile into something more genuine and sympathetic. A sad, lost, tourist who clearly had no idea that Germany was not located in England. Edith had experienced this while living in France, trying to translate signs so that she could find her way around, but had soon settled into only knowing the words for toilet and beer. Maybe it was a case of being lost in translation?

"I'm going to assume that you arrived here by way of floo powder," the witch said matter of factly. The only other ways into the ministry were by the employee toilets and the visitor's telephone box, and it probably would have been a little obvious that you were arriving at the Ministry of Magic if you had used one of those entrances. Edith nodded to herself, so proud at her skills of deduction at this early hour (and late hour of the workday). She rearranged her arms, crossing them across her chest. Her wand was in the wand pocket of her robes; should she have it handy just in case this Frenchie was an actual nutcase? She narrowed her eyes as she looked her opponent up and down, giving her an ocular patdown. Nah, she was harmless. Edith should be fine.

"Did you say you wanted to go to Germany?" Edith had never tried to floo to Germany. Really, Edith had never flooed anywhere outside of England. She much preferred apparating to floo, and even preferred taking muggle transportation methods like trains or planes if she had the time to spare. It was always nice to get a break from wizards. And when she got tired of being around muggles, it was nice to get a break from them as well. But, the point was, Edith had never tried to travel to Germany by any means, let alone a magical fireplace. Maybe you were supposed to state your destination in German? "Did you talk to the fireplace in German or French? And have you been there before?" And if she had been there before, why did she want to go back? That was probably a question best left for another time, however.

No matter what her intention was, this woman was a visitor and hadn't used the visitor's entrance. Was Edith supposed to report her? Take charge of her? Escort her somewhere? Clearly, the easiest option was shooing her out of the Ministry as quickly as possible. That option also involved the least amount of paperwork. "We'll figure it out," she stated with a nod, doing her best to sound confident so that she could get rid of this woman on her merry way.

Julietta could see the cogs ticking behind the Ministry workers eyes and nodded when she said she assumed she'd arrived by floo - because she had. There wasn't much point saying otherwise, was there? There was never any point in lying, but lying now would just be stupid. At her next question, the brunette couldn't help but roll her eyes. Had she spoken to the fireplace in German or French? What was this woman on about? Sometimes she felt as though people treated her like she was stupid, just because she wasn't English. Really? French people aren't that stupid.

"I said the name of the place I wanted to go - it is the same in both languages, such as Paris is still Paris in both French and English. Place names don't change. And, before you ask, yes I did speak clearly." Being fluent in English certainly had its perks, like now, as although she still had her French accent she could have a perfectly good conversation with this Ministry Worker and point out where she was being, without meaning to be rude, wrong.

"And yes, I have been there - only yesterday, in fact, I was going to retrieve something left behind." The Circus Worker said, thinking about what she should do next. Now she had established where she was she could easily get herself to the field again, and then back to the circus. She would be fine on her own, she just needed to leave without seeming rude. The woman spoke again, saying how they'd figure it out, and Jules realized that this was her last chance to say anything otherwise she'd be stuck here until the Ministry had figured out what was going on.

"Actually, madame," The 19 year old said, reverting back to her native language for one word, as she did sometimes, as she thought calling someone 'Mrs' or 'Miss' sounded rude.

"I think I shall be fine on my own now. Thank you ever so much for you help, but I should be on my way. Um, in fact, before I go, perhaps you could mention it to someone that your floo system here seems to be playing up? I would be most grateful if you could. I would do it myself but I have to be quick and get back before the Ringmaster gets annoyed at my absence."

Oh. Oh oh oh. Looks like this girl wasn't in a helpful mood either. She knew for a fact that city names were different in Germany. One of her sort of favorite breweries was in Germany, in Munich, and it took her longer than she would like to admit to realize that the brewery in München wasn't just another location of the same brewery. München was just apparently Munich in German. And don't get her started on how much of a headache it was dealing with Irish wizards and trying to get around Irish cities, where everything was written in Irish fiest and English second. But Edith just shrugged. She didn't work in the Ministry's customer service department. She wasn't necessarily obligated to be helpful.

But if the cities were the same in both languages, which Edith almost refused to believe, and she had spoken clearly, then there probably was an issue with her floo powder or her starting fireplace. It wouldn't be the first time that magic went a different direction than intended. Maybe the girl ought to just not forget stuff behind if she didn't know how to go back to retrive it properly. But again, Edith just shrugged. Coming off a long night shift made even the nicer witches and wizards a little cranky.

Madame? Oh, geez. Edith knew she was tired but had that really aged her twenty years? But if she thought she would be fine on her own, even though she was the one to ask for help, Edith didn't want to argue. "Okiedoke, sweetie," Edith cooed, decidedly not trying to convince her to stay and actually seek help from someone who worked in the floo network. When she said ringmaster, Edith couldn't help but think that she had been dealing with an escaped carnie and things just got weirder. She did make a good point, however, about telling someone, but it was just too bad that Edith was on her way out and wasn't really wanting to go talk to Ministry people now.

She waved sarcastically as the Frenchie left and then turned and headed for the employee toilet exit.

As she turned to leave, Julietta heard the sarcastic coo of the Ministry worker and whipped back round again to see her disappearing into the crowds. What was that about? Had she said something to offend her? The woman knew she'd left rather quickly but she'd tried to be as polite as possible, and had explained her reasons for being in a rush. Of course, she had never stopped to ask if the other woman was also in a rush, so maybe that was why? Ah well, what's done is done, right? There wasn't any point dwelling on past mistakes and she really did have to go now. Besides, she'd probably never see the woman again.

Fighting against the crowds to walk in the opposite direction to the flow, the 19 year old weaved her way between people back to the fireplace where she'd materialised from. As she reached it however she noticed a sign that said 'entry only' and realised that she'd have to use a different fireplace to leave. It was probably better she did anyway, to be honest, a it might have been that particular fireplace that was throwing the floor system off. On a different wall she could see a matching sign that said 'exit only'.

The Circus worker let herself be swept along by the crowds the towards the other side of the grand atrium, where there were lines of people waiting by fireplaces to leave. It seemed as though it was the end of a shift - maybe that was why the woman had been in such a rush? She had to get to her shift? Or she had been eager to head home? It was probably one of the two. Standing in line amongst all the smartly dressed Ministry Workers made the Parisian felt quite small and shabby so it was a relief when she finally reached the front of her line and a few moments later, it was he turn.

Taking some floo powder from the pot by the fireplace she stepped in and turned around, throwing the powder down and saying the name of the German café she was hoping to floo to, which was nearby to the field the circus had been in. The green flames engulfed her and the last thing she saw was the bored looking, glazed over expression of the next worker in line to go home before she disappeared out of the building and to her next destination.

((out - thread end))