2 October, 1893 — Fogg's Jewelry Shop, Knockturn Alley
This was the first time Francesca was conducting reconnaissance in her human form. She thought she was doing an admirable job, but the heavy mourning attire that cloaked her facial features and obscured some of her subtler body language was likely doing some of the heavy lifting as well. The mourning attire felt like as disguise of its own, just as effective as owl wings; no one looked her direction as she made her way through Diagon Alley and into Knockturn, so obviously no one took note of her.
It had taken a bit of digging to find the shop, but not much. She had the historical records of the entire Auror Department at her fingertips when she was working, after all, and there was very little that wasn't catalogued there if one knew where to look. Francesca loved a well-organized records system. Apparently this was a passion that she and her late husband shared, because after his death she'd found chronicles of letters stored away, organized by date and still in pristine condition. In some of the more recent ones the woman hadn't signed her full name, but in the beginning they had been less bold: Miss Fogg. There were references here and there to 'the shop,' and once she'd had the name it was trivial to find the address of the shop in question.
So now here she was, about to meet The Woman. Francesca wasn't sure what to expect. Someone younger, prettier, nicer? Or one of those loose women, a sultry seductress whose behavior and wardrobe were both barely permissible in polite society? This was Knockturn Alley, after all. How on earth had Finlay even met this woman?
Well, whatever her expectations were, they were about to meet reality. She adjusted the black crepe veil over her face and entered the shop.
It had taken a bit of digging to find the shop, but not much. She had the historical records of the entire Auror Department at her fingertips when she was working, after all, and there was very little that wasn't catalogued there if one knew where to look. Francesca loved a well-organized records system. Apparently this was a passion that she and her late husband shared, because after his death she'd found chronicles of letters stored away, organized by date and still in pristine condition. In some of the more recent ones the woman hadn't signed her full name, but in the beginning they had been less bold: Miss Fogg. There were references here and there to 'the shop,' and once she'd had the name it was trivial to find the address of the shop in question.
So now here she was, about to meet The Woman. Francesca wasn't sure what to expect. Someone younger, prettier, nicer? Or one of those loose women, a sultry seductress whose behavior and wardrobe were both barely permissible in polite society? This was Knockturn Alley, after all. How on earth had Finlay even met this woman?
Well, whatever her expectations were, they were about to meet reality. She adjusted the black crepe veil over her face and entered the shop.
