It was a busy Friday night at Hopworts Brewing Co., and the small taproom was far more packed than it had been the week before.  Most of the tables were filled with small parties crammed onto the benches, the wooden barrels had all been claimed, and the beer had been flowing quickly enough that it was becoming questionable whether they'd have enough to make it through the entire weekend.  When the special guests for the night had arrived, it had nearly taken an act of Godric Gryffindor for him to wedge in two extra stools at the end of the bar.

Pollux had just finished setting the last taster glass down on the wooden paddle when a rumbling noise began to sound from overhead.  Half a second later, the entire tasting room began to quiver and shake.  With practiced ease, the brewer scooped the paddle up off the drip tray where it had sat beneath the taps, holding it steady as the train finished rumbling by overhead. 

It took a good few seconds for the vibrating to stop.  At the other end of the bar, there was a loud crash as a pint glass tragically managed to dance its way off the counter.

Pollux hardly seemed phased by the casualty.  "One moment and I'll get you!" he called to the sad-looking wizard who was staring mournfully after his lost drink.

Expertly balancing the small wooden paddle in one hand, he turned back around, setting it down in a smooth motion on the bar in front of his sister and her date.

"There yous are, then.  On the house," he said, flashing them a bright smile. "Even though I know you've got that fine reporter's salary of yours now."  He winked at Niobe as he turned to pour the unfortunate wizard down the bar another beer.  "You ought to consider yourself lucky that I like Foy, Nibs."

Foy Pilpher and Niobe Thursby arrived looking rather smart. Foy had colored her hair magenta and wore a leather jacket. Niobe was hands-in-pockets in tall boots and a hip-length brocade coat with a high collar. They were here to have a look at Niobe's brother's brewery's re-opening after getting a swift kick in the bum by the Ministry for the crime of crimes - breathing a whiff to muggles.  But it finally finally seemed like wayward, wandering star Pollux had landed. And the place was impressive, even with the regular interruption of rumbling mass transit.

Niobe moved through the place like she owned it, taking in the vibe of the clientele. Many of them reminded her of fashionable, hipster, easy Pollux. It was a distinctly different set than Niobe's haunts where the whiskey and muggle beer flowed into the stomachs of the rougher tiers of Ministry, Auror-sorts, and other press.

Foy, at Niobe's left easily made more room for them at the stools saved for them, and leaned forward comfortably. She laughed with smiling eyes and bumped Niobe with her hip at Pollux's shade.

     "She's lucky for loads of reasons," Foy boasted. Foy'd only met Pollux once and happily stoked the spark of competition between the Thursbys.

The small glasses of beer gleamed in a spectrum from gold to black with reds and senia browns in between.

"Place looks good, Pol, got to admit," Niobe said, being nice. She picked up the darkest of the beers and held it up to the light. "How'd you lure the crowd?

Pollux chuckled as he returned from delivering the replacement beer, raising an eyebrow at the journalist's thoughtful examination of the Pomona Stout.

"You're supposed to start at the other end," he advised in a mock stage whisper, tapping at the end of the wooden paddle where the beer was the lightest in color. 

His sister's compliment was clearly not lost on him, though.  Pollux shot her a lopsided smile in return, pausing for a moment in his rounds to hover in front of them.  "What can I say?" he asked cheerfully.  "They brought themselves in, mostly.  Can't hurt that I hear the head brewer's a dead-on stunner," he added with a wink, as he turned back to the next person waiting in line. "What's next, mate?"

A wizard with a long, pointed grey beard had wedged his way up to the bar on the opposite side of Foy in hopes of placing his next order.  Pollux took a moment to pour him a beer, slapped the payment into the cash box, and then stepped back to where the two witches were sitting.

"I have to say, I think the Ministry might've done us a favor by pushing back our opening."  Pollux rested an elbow on the bar, returning his volume to a more relaxed tone as he leaned in closer to Niobe and her date.  "After the week that it's been, it seems like plenty of people will be angling for a night out this weekend." 

He paused for a moment as if a thought had occurred to him, and then waggled his eyebrows at his sister. "If you were thinking of giving us some front page coverage to help get the word out, I might have to protest a bit at the nepotism, but I don't think I'd outright say no."

Oh it was weird seeing Pollux like this. Niobe was used to being the achiever, the stable one. Stable, in the Thursby context, included having a terrorist in the boyfriend backlog, a missing finger, and a muggle-baiting conviction as well as, of course, a shooting star career in serious magical journalism. But Pollux, he moved behind the bar and dealt with customers like he owned the place. Because he owned the place.

"Right, I need an editorship or something now," Niobe mumbled to Foy through grit teeth in a moment Pollux stepped away.

"You're jealous. That'd adorable," Foy grinned then laughed loudly at whatever Pollux said when he returned. Niobe traded out the stout for the lightest one. At first, it tasted like the nothingness the pale color threatened, but just in the back of the tongue something bright and clean and worthwhile. Niobe passed it on to Foy, still unused to Pollux being King of Town.

When Pollux leaned in, Niobe mirrored his posture.

          "After the week that it's been, it seems like plenty of people will be angling for a night out this weekend."

"I'll drink to that," Foy interjected, then added. "Oi, this is bloody good..."

A week it had been, truthfully. These full moons were going to keep happening apparently if the Daily Prophet's weather prediction section was to be believed. Then Pollux presented his amazing and completely impromptu idea.

"That's not nepotism," Niobe said quickly. She sat up and gestured. "No, I mean look: if something interesting actually happens I'd be -  why, I'd be obligated to cover it. Professionally speaking."

"Get in with the mob, maybe?" Foy suggested. She'd moved onto the next warmest glass.

"Oh, yes, that'd do it. Get in with the mob, then let me know. You'll have to get in deep to hit front page, however."

"Very deep."

"Proper deep. With the mob."

Pollux flashed Foy a winning smile, clearly pleased with her spontaneous compliment for the beer.  She was far more charming than the sorts that his sister occasionally ended up with, even if she seemed a bit too stable and put together for Niobe's usual tastes.  He couldn't help but hope that it lasted longer than Niobe's usual relationships, too.

The constant orders seemed to have slowed down, at least for the moment.  The noise around the bar had relaxed to a friendly buzz, and there was some changing of the guard happening, as some of the earlier arrivals began to filter out to make way for the late crowd. Pollux waved farewell to a couple wearing matching Three Owl Standard shirts as they extricated themselves from their bar stools and turned to try and navigate the crowd on their way to the exit, and then turned back to Niobe and Foy again. 

"Sounds like a lot of work compared to the nepotism," he said, giving Niobe a wink as he draped his arm back on the counter. 

But there was only so far he could push his sister before he was due for a lecture about Journalistic Integrity! and The Truth Must Out!  Pollux shook his head, chuckling. 

"All right, then; let's on with it," he said cheerfully, inclining his head to the pair.  "Which mob shall it be?  Not the Muggle one," he cautioned, raising a finger at them in warning.  "I nearly got lifted by the Aurors after the last incident when one snuck in here and got himself transfigured into a hat rack.  I won't go down that road again."

"This is kind of your area, Pilpher," Niobe said seriously ready to entertain the question. Foy was half of Pilpher and Strides Investigations, which was how she and Niobe had met. Most of Foy's work was confidential, but she was able to get access to networks who weren't keen on speaking to the paper.

"Let's see..." Foy said and tapped her fingers on the bartop. "There's K.A.B.A.N.A[1], which is definitely a front. There's the Empty Eyes in Manchester, the Spelluminati, the Agatha Pendragon fan club... Or whoever's slid in after the Wizarding Blood Alliance is pushing some new mind-expanding potion."[2]

Niobe laughed. "I was thinking more along the lines of the Witch Wanderers."[3]

Foy laughed and took up the next sample and Niobe trailed after her. It really was better light to dark.

"You've got to tell Foy the story," Niobe prompted him. "How you got raided. It's a proper yarn."

1.	The Knockturn Alley Business and Neighborhood Association
2.	Hydra
3.	Maybe magical Girl Guides

"Agatha Pendragon sounds promising," Pollux said cheerfully, dropping his arm back to rest on the bar.  "That's probably what, witches of a certain age and up?  At least they're likely to appreciate good hat choices," he added impudently, giving an imaginary tip of his hat to his sister.[1]

Unfortunately, it hadn't taken Niobe long to move on past any strategizing on how best to improve his dating life through criminal conspiracy.  Pollux heaved a sigh, slanting her a long-suffering look.

"Oh, that old chestnut," he said, with an air of weariness that hadn't been present mere moments before.  "Ach, all right, Nibs; you'll drag it out of me.  But only because I like Foy," he warned her, with a half-grin that belied any admonishment in his voice as he turned towards the detective.  "I shouldn't want her to feel left out of all this history."

A proper yarn telling deserved a beer.  Luckily, he'd poured one for himself not too much earlier, the last time he'd gotten a minute to himself in the middle of this evening rush.  Pollux fished the mostly full glass out from behind the bar, raising his eyebrows mysteriously as Foy as he turned back towards her.

"It was a dark and stormy night --" he started, just as the rumbling began overhead again.  That set off a flurry of activity throughout the brewery, as everyone scrambled to grab their drinks until the train had passed by. 

Pollux waited until it had settled, looking out like a hawk to make sure that no one had lost their glass this time.  Finally, once he was sure that they'd suffered no unfortunate casualties, he turned back to his sister and his girlfriend.

"Now where was I?" he asked, swirling the dark beer in his glass slightly.  "Oh, yes.  It was a dark and stormy night, just after our soft opening this past Midsummer.  Which Niobe didn't even bother to drop in for, I might mention," he added, chuckling as he flashed a grin at his sister.  "Family loyalty won't even spare you a knut on a bad night, these days."

1.	Agatha Pendragon's most prominent role, Detective When, is known for her collection of unexpected and remarkably useful hats.

"It was a soft opening," Niobe said, defensively. "Can't be giving out gold stars for every soft opening... Ow."

Foy elbowed Niobe, actually a bit disappointed at the sister's lack of support. Niobe gave her a look in return. Foy hadn't a brother so what did she know about it? If you were too kind, they'd let it go to their heads and then it was just work, work, work all the time.

At least Pollux still knew how to tell a story. He'd conjured thunder with just his eyebrows, even. Pol and Nibs had enjoyed turning tales back when they were young either in service of entertainment or to avoid consequences for whatever hair-brained adventure they were on that week. She remembered them trying to explain away the thumping and squawks from the cellar that time they'd transfigured the neighbor boy into an emu; twas just the furnace kicking on. They'd lost their wands for an entire month that time. Angus never completely lost the feathers.

In an attempt to be supportive, Niobe helped things along. "But it turned out that weekend was also some local muggle festival of some kind. Oh wait, no, it was a labor strike, right?"

"It was," Pollux agreed, clearly pleased that his sister had contributed.  "They'd been out picketing all day and then when the rains come, they'd had to find somewhere to nip into, hadn't they?  It must be a beast to be a Muggle and not be able to apparate," he added with feeling.  "The weather takes a turn, and what are you but stuck out there, doing your best not to get soaked when all the world's out to -- oi, what'll it be, mate?"

A shaggy-haired wizard with an impressive beard that extended down past his belt buckle had managed to slip up next to Niobe at the bar.  Pollux paused his tale as he fulfilled the order, deftly passing off another beer so that he could return to his sister and her date.

"So it's just started to rain," he resumed cheerfully as he rejoined them.  "And the mob's all out and about, looking for a place to get blocked after their busy day shouting slogans and waving signs about.  And here we are," he added, gesturing at the wider tap room behind his guests, "enjoying a quiet pint and thinking that the night's gotten a bit warm, aren't we?

"Back then," he said suddenly, turning to Foy as though he'd realized she was missing a crucial part of the story, "back then, the back wall wasn't all bricked in like it is now.  It was a metal roll-up, like on the vegan sausage place next store.  Most of the time we left it down, and one of my mates had taken a pass at one or two repelling charms, just so we wouldn't get any unwanted visitors.  But you know how Muggles are," he told the private detective, giving her a knowing wink.  "They no sooner get the feeling that they shouldn't go in somewhere then they pondering on how to let their curiosity get the better of them, don't they?"

"Don' I know it!" Foy said with a little smack on the bar. They'd exhausted the samples and the private investigator was feeling the fizz.

"I can't tell you how many times they somehow wander past our charms," Foy said. "But then I shouldn't talk. The lot of us here love going where we're not wanted."

Niobe had to agree with a bright laugh. It was true. Reporters and investigators were two sides of a great shiny galleon. She ran her thumb over the gap in her hand where her ring finger once lived ere it was snapped off by a Runespoor - not even the worst thing she'd done going where she shouldn't. Both she and her brother lacked sense in pursuit of an ideal, but between the two of them which was the worse sin? Fear of commitment or fear of nothing?

"Go on, then. You've got muggles trickling in, you've got enchanted lanterns, moving photographs, no flat screen televisions, wands everywhere and all these muggles sober and determined..." Niobe prompted.

“Two Muggles,” Pollux said firmly, holding out a hand with two fingers raised at his sister.  “Just two.  Downright anxious they were to get out of the rain.  And this place, well —“ 

He flicked his hand at the interior of the tasting room.  High brick ceiling, metal stools around barrels and high-topped long tables.  The coolers in the corner looked a bit odd without any Muggle refrigeration, but even those wouldn’t have looked entirely out of place at a Muggle brewery.  The other few scattered throughout Bermondsey were nearly indistinguishable from his own in their vintage industrial chic, aside from the burning lanterns that took the place of electrical lights.

The paddle of taster glasses in front of Foy and his sister were empty, which would hardly do, even if Niobe was nagging at him.  Pollux swept it away, effortless in his technique.

“So they wander in, take a seat at the bar,” he said cheerfully as he turned to deposit the empty glasses one by one in the bin for washing.  “And we don’t know any better.  And since they were all wet, it seemed a bit rude to ask them to pay before they’d had a chance to warm themselves again, so it wasn’t until a pint or two that I told them the score.

“‘Four sickles,’ says I,” he continued, in a much deeper voice than usual as he began to search for an empty pair of glasses.

“What’s a sickle?’ says they.”

Pollux had located the glasses he’d been looking for, but this was the part of the story that got the most dramatic. He returned to the counter by his sister and her girlfriend, hunching over it and lowering his voice to convey the shock of the sudden turn of events.

“We’re all confused.  What are they away on?  Everyone knows what a sickle is.  And suddenly, we realized.”  He drew back, letting out a gasp.  “They’re Muggles! 

“And then!” he exclaimed, “right in the mess of it, before any of us could decide what to say or what to do with them, someone pulls out his wand, and bam!”  He slapped the edge of the barter with his hand for added emphasis.  “One of themuns gone and been turned into a hat rack!”

"No, no, uh-uh!" Foy said as Pollux described how muggles had just strolled in out of the dreary weather and sat right on down like a normal day, no idea they'd gone through the looking glass. 

Foy covered her mouth in the vicarious horror of it all, but she could see the easy mistake. Pollux's place had a foot in two worlds.

"It went completely arseways," Niobe said turning to Foy, unable to resist picking up the story. "Some sot sent sparks out the window sure it was an invasion and soon the place was swarmed with Aurors and Obliviators. Poll was lucky he wasn't arrested," she said smugly.

"Wouldn't want a Thursby arrested now would we?" Foy said clicking her tongue. Niobe kicked her under the chair and gave her a look. Pollux had been abroad for that.