It was still early afternoon but, already, the thick blanket of grey clouds were darkening overhead.  Night was still more than an hour off but the slow, dreary march to the end of the day had begun.  It was already dark enough for the clouds to reflect the glow of lights from Dublin off to the Northwest.  The Wicklow mountains were at Deaglan McDonough's back; he'd spent the last two weeks crossing them from Wicklow down south along the coast.  After a day or two of rest, he'd resume his trek, meeting up with the ó Fearghails and Quinns in Kilbride before heading north to Dublin.  With luck, he'd be reaching his daughter's home in Dublin in time for Christmas. 

The rain, which had come and gone all day, had returned with determination.  The ground was already waterlogged and he could only hope it would dry some before the horses would have to drag the wagon wheels free from of the ruts.  A steady downpour rattled against the top and the sides of the wooden vardo[1].  Bergin, Deaglan's lurcher, had already retreated into the vardo's interior, undoubtedly curled up on the small rug in front of the stove.  Deaglan would be following suit shortly - as soon as both of the horses had been suitably rugged up against the rain. 

Deaglan sang[2], quietly, to himself to take his focus off of the rain.  It only offered a marginal distraction against the cold rain. 

He was halfway through rugging up the skewbald when there was an unmistakable crack off towards his left.  The mare barely flinched; she'd been around long enough to have witnessed more than a few apparating wizards.  Irial was not so luck.  The yearling snorted and jumped forward, swiveling in the direction of the visitors before deciding the effort wasn't worth it given the rain.  He dropped his head back to the ground to rip at the wet grass.

"Not the best day for a visit, I'm afraid," Deaglan called as he finished rugging the colt and turned towards the new arrivals.  His fingers were wrapped, carefully, around the long yellowheart wand in his pocket but the three woman hardly seemed like the type to travel that distance to cause an old Pavee grief.  Especially since it seemed two had hitched a ride with the third. 

"Come inside, before you drown.  I'll warm some tea." 

1.	The vardo, that Deaglan calls home.
2.	Another Day - the song, starts at 6:14

The weather matched Aileen's mood perfectly. After the first apparation attempt, when they'd appeared in an empty field under the pouring rain, she'd had her doubts. After the second apparation attempt, when they'd appeared in a road next to a confused sheep, she'd questioned her sanity. By the third attempt, when Abby had pointed at the wagon with a gleeful shout, Aileen glared at the small, charming mode of transportation with murder in her eyes.

No wonder they hadn't been able to find him!

Tilting her chin down, Aileen attempted to compose herself. They had not come all the way out here just to watch her light the wagon on fire with her thoughts. Especially after the man claimed that it was not the best day for a visit. Hadn't he received their owl a few hours ago?

"Thank you, Mr. McDonough," she replied curtly, casting scourgify spells on her shoes, and doing the same for Abby and Jacoba before stepping inside his quaint home. Rain-repelling charms had not saved her expensive flats from the mud. She held back a shiver, admittedly grateful for the warmth of the wagon, though she frowned slightly at the distinct lack of space. For a wandmaker, he didn't seem to use much magic. Why else, at his age, would he choose to travel and live this way.

Removing her hat and smoothing her hair, Aileen perched on the edge of a cushioned bench. Abby took a moment to peer around the wagon in fascination, smiling as if she didn't realize her hair was frizzing up around her ears. Likely she didn't care. Aileen glanced pointedly at the seat next to her and her sister sat.

Aileen was the picture of a pureblood in her dark dress and cloak, while Abby wore her usual mixture of muggle and wizarding clothes. The three women must have made an odd sight.

"I'm Aileen Reid. This is my younger sister Abby. And I believe you know Jacoba," she gestured at her, managing a very slight smile.

"This place is brill," Abby added, holding out her hand for the scruffy dog to sniff.

"I appreciate you seeing us on such short notice." Aileen was not certain how much Jacoba had told him in the letters, so she glanced at the young woman, ready to explain things if she needed her to.

The weather seemed to get worse and worse with each subsequent apparition.  By the time they made their final ... landing, or whatever, Jacoba's hair was half-frizzled and half-soaked and her stomach had reached full queasiness.  How was it wizards could have all this power and ability and no one had discovered a slightly more comfortable way to travel? 

Of the three of them, Abby seemed to be having the most fun.  By the looks of it, Jacoba wasn't nearly as miserable as Aileen but she wasn't that far behind.  Probably only on account that her own clothes were far more readily disposable.  Jacoba's fashion boots squealched in the mud as she shoved her hands in her pocket and flashed an apologetic grimace at the older woman.  There was no denying the fact they were here because of her. 

In hindsight, would Ollivander's have been that much worse?  Yes.  If for no other reason than she already knew Ollivander from more than a few visits to Reducto. 

"From Reducto," Jacoba elaborated when Aileen introduced her.  She suspected he remembered but, just to be safe."  Jacoba glanced around the wagon's interior, grinning at Abby as she surveyed the place with obvious enthusiasm.  "Better than a lot of the places I've lived," Jacoba admitted, eyeing the wood stove and the remarkably comfortable-looking bed on the platform above the front of the wagon with a hint of obvious envy.  There were so many winter nights she could remember when she would have given anything to have slept in something like this. 

Jacoba looked back at Aileen and then McDonough.  It was a guess, but Jacoba suspected Aileen was hoping the whole process could be expedited quickly.  "I sent an owl.  A few days ago about coming to test driving a few wands?  Just to see?" 

"And, asking for discretion?" 

Deaglan nodded at Ms. Reid, a trace of a grin flashing over his features as the name was met with recognition.  "From Hogwarts," the man concluded.  He negotiated the tight quarters around the women with an obvious and practiced ease, setting an old, dented water kettle on the top of the stove.  "I hear you offer some interesting dancing lessons."  He pointed, briefly, at a haphazardly folded letter amidst a small stack of papers on the top of the chest of drawers.  A distinctive scrawl was strewn across the page, it's complete negligence towards spelling and punctuation the first indicator of the temper and haste with which it had been written. 

He'd taken to trying to help the young Pavee's transition into Hogwarts life as best he could.  Hogwarts, with it's emphasis on a different tradition and familial status, was usually not the best prepared for the challenges some students presented.  And, Pavee's who graced its walls were too few and far between to force the school to remember past lessons.  He'd encouraged the girl to write to help develop her tone and writing skills.  On some occasions, weeks would pass between letters.  Other times - usually fueled by temper - it was clear the letter had been an immediate action. 

"Aye, yes," Deaglan confirmed.  "I did receive the request.  Had I known of your specific travel plans, I might have warned you of the weather.  But that would be, as we say, water under the bridge.  It is a pleasure to host you all."   

The man took a seat on the bench opposite Aileen and Jacoba, next to the stove.  He placed his hands together, interlacing his fingers and smiled as he watched the youngest of the group greet the dog.  "'Fraid Bergin's not much one for socializing.  Friendly - at least not mean.  But, he barely gives me the time of day if I don't have food." 

"But, thank you.  It's home.  Raised a family of three in it, once upon a time."  Deaglan tugged the cabinet doors underneath the bed open, revealing the second, smaller bed where his daughter one slept - or the rare visitor.

Deaglan nodded when they stated their business and got to his feet.  Unlocking one of the drawers next to the women, the old wandmaker withdrew a wide, flat hazel and oak box and opened it up.  Inside was a humble though diverse selection of wands.  Ranging from intricately carved and decorated pieces to those that looked like not much more than a twig broken from a tree branch.  None of them displayed near the refinement of Ollivander's creations.  They were raw.  With varied materials - random cores and woods gathered from others during his travels and trades.   

"Are you looking to take a random stab at it?  Or, would you like some recommendations?"

Could a wandmaker sense magic in a person? Or had he been doing this for so long that it was easy to find patterns in people and the wands that chose them? Abby looked at the old man, wondering. She might have to ask Sasha what he thought sometime. He seemed to like to theorize about these things, and by necessity, he'd bought more than one wand.

Abby smiled at the dog, who seemed far more interested in getting his spot by the stove back. Bergin let out a dog-sigh as he scrunched up his body and rested his head on his paws.

Though she wished she could tap her foot and move around, Abby refrained, knowing it would drive her sister crazy. It had been difficult to convince Aileen to escort them here, though Abby offering to go alone with Jacoba to an old wizard's buggy had done the trick. But Aileen hadn't put up as much of a fuss as Abby had thought she would. The two sisters shared a look when Jacoba enviously complimented the wagon's accommodations.

"Perhaps we'll start with your recommendations," Aileen suggested, with a glance at Jacoba. "And I must stress that discretion really is important."

Aileen folded her hands on her lap, tilting her chin up slightly to shoot a suspicious glance at the letter Mr. McDonough had mentioned. Abby noticed, and glanced at it too, but couldn't read the messy scrawl. Drat!

Being closest to the chest of drawers, Abby leaned forward and peered inside. "I don't think the twiggy ones would work for her. She's not a woodland creature," she tossed a grin at Jacoba. "And not the ones with lots of carvings and stuff either. She's not a complicated, fussy sort of person."

Aileen cleared her throat softly.

Abby leaned back into her seat. "Something in the middle? Anyway!"

She and Aileen had talked about this before coming here. Aileen kept worrying that Abby thought the possibility of magic in Jacoba meant that squibs like her could have latent powers too. But that wasn't it. Abby knew that. She couldn't explain it, but she knew it. All she could explain was what she felt - a sort of obsessive excitement over the thought of Jacoba getting a wand this late in her life. If she didn't, if it turned out to be all coincidence, that was when Aileen would have to worry about Abby's feelings.

Of course, this wasn't the first time Jacoba had ever come across a magic wand.  They hadn't yet become mundanely common place and they still held a certain degree of mystical intrigue.  But, they were no longer completely novel.  They had become an expected accessory to her day to day life but always with her as the observer.  She'd never actually touched one or held one.  Or even imagined herself with one.  She was just grateful enough to be allowed to remember they existed!

This moment was quickly becoming hard to process.  And, the way those around here were talking, she could just as well be doing something as mundane as test driving a car.  Or, shopping for carpeting.  Would you like to just take one for a spin?  Or, can I recommend the newest model for you?  Wouldn't you just look so smashing in the red one? 

Ever since the wands had been presented, Jacoba sat on the cushioned bench, staring at them.  She only half-listened to the comments and recommendations of those around her.  If she picked up a wand and something happened, everything ... everything would change. 

Whether she wanted them to or not. 

"Look," Jacoba said.  "Maybe this isn't such a good idea.  I'm not ... I still ..."

Jacoba glanced from Abby on one side of her to Aileen on the other and, rather uncharacteristically, blushed.  She was certain Aileen would be just thrilled if they'd come all the way out here, in this weather, to achieve nothing and simply turn around and head back.  In fact, Jacoba was fairly certain she couldn't blame the woman if Aileen decided to hex her for even suggesting it. 

"I'm sorry.  Alright.  I've just got to do this.  So ... what do I do?"  Jacoba looked up and blinked at the old man. 

Patiently, the man dipped his head once in a subtle recognition.  He wasn't quite sure what the lovely Ms. Reid expected but the reminder of discretion was not necessary.  There were very few wizards who sought a McDonough wand as a first choice.  Most came to him when acquiring an Ollivander's or a similarly front-window-display-worthy wand was not an option.  Whether for political, legal or financial reasons.  The only purebloods that graced his wagon were those that, for whatever reason, also sought discretion in their wand purchases.  For the very reasons Ms. Reid had cleaned the soles of her shoes as soon as she was out of the mud, those that would care that Diagon Alley's Muggle was testing magic were unlikely to linger around for gossip in the wooden wagon. 

"Of course, ma'am," came the simple reply.  What a peculiar bunch. 

The Muggle was stalling and the youngest amongst them was watching the whole proceedings with a remarkable amount of enthusiasm.  It was not his place to discourage or encourage the Muggle so while the young woman fretted unnecessarily, Deaglan turned his attention to the youngest. 

"The skin rarely reflects the soul," Deaglan advised, gesturing towards the selection of wands, his finger migrating from a short, stubby twig to it's more fancifully embellished neighbor.  He then drew his own wand from within his robes and rested it, like an open book, on the palms of both hands.  The wand was long and spindly, elegantly - almost regally curved and the yellowheart wood was aged and warn to a bright, warm glow.  "It's core is that of the Dullahan.[1]  Raw, primal and merely tamed.  Much like a full veela.  Beautiful to look at, but something entirely different when unleashed."

The story may have been a bad choice.  In hindsight, it occurred to Deaglan it might have intimidate her further, given the Muggle's uncertainty about committing to any of the wands.  But it seemed luck had granted her the good fortune of ignorance.  Deaglan may have just as well identified the wand's core as a magical beanstalk for all the recognition she showed.  The other two, however, very well might recognize the creature. 

The man leaned back but kept his wand in his hand.  The weather precluded them from testing the wands outside which, given the circumstances, would have been ideal.  There were no luxury charms on the wagon - no enlargements or other spells of comfort.  Deaglan had far more visitors from the Traveller community than from the wizarding community; only spells that left no noticeable trace had ever been used: charms that made the wagon lighter for the horses and protective wards that limited the damage from errant wand trials.  But, given the circumstances now, there was no telling what the wands would do and best to counteract any damage before it left the wagon in a pile of splinters. 

"As I understand, you are not here to shop for a wand, correct?  Merely see if you possess the magic necessary to trigger a reaction from the magical core.  In which case, the wand you chose will be irrelevant.  If you do not possess magic, nothing will happen."  Deaglan gestured from the youngest of the three and towards the wands, inviting her to demonstrate.  Though it hadn't been said, the conclusion had seemed obvious.  The girl was a Reid and came from a pureblood family.  She was obviously old enough for Hogwarts yet was not at school.  She'd had to sidealong to get here.  And, yes - just as designers learned to read their clients in the name of fashion, wandmakers learned to read their clients for magical compatibility. 

"If you do possess any magic, taking a wand and gesturing it will produce some reaction.  Good or bad, you'll have your answer."

1.	A Dullahan is a malicious fairy of Irish lore, otherwise often known as a headless horseman.  The Dullahan is fabled to be able to ride anywhere and cross any barrier but where and when it stops, someone is destined to soon die.

The disappointment flashing on Abby's face and the narrow-eyed look Aileen gave Jacoba happened in an instant, then slowly faded as the wandmaker distracted Abby.

"A Dullahan?" Abby repeated, unfamiliar with the creature but raising her eyebrows at the description.

"Like a thestral, Abby. A harbinger of death, or so some say," Aileen explained.

Nodding, Abby leaned forward to study the wand, finding the contrasts and inconsistencies fascinating. Aged though it might be, it contained strength and joy in the many lines that ran across the yellowed wood. It seemed a bit too tall and noble for Mr. McDonough, yet it rested in his hands comfortably, like it belonged there.

"Oh, I can't, I'm not a witch," Abby drew back and shook her head with a little laugh, misunderstanding his reason for gesturing at her. She glanced at the blushing Jacoba, then at Aileen. The thought of demonstrating her lack of magical ability made her feel foolish and embarrassed.

"But Jacoba can. Try?" She said hopefully.

"He is correct," Aileen added, seeming surprised - at what, Abby didn't know. "If something happens, I certainly won't expect you to act on it in any way unless you want to. This is for you. For you to know."

Though Jacoba only half listened to the old wizard's tale, she was more than a little grateful.  In her moment of hesitation, she'd both felt and seen the varying reactions from the squib and the witch.  Sandwiched between them, the added pressure from their own individual expectations wasn't helping settle her mind. 

But, the wizard's story had diverted the attention of at least two in the wagon.  While his voice seemingly droned in the background, Jacoba sat staring at the small assortment of wands.  The whole process sounded far too simple given the potential ramifications.  Pick up a stick, waggle it a bit and the answer would be known.  One way or the other. 

The man's story drew to a close and whatever time he'd bought her had been used up.  Abby and Aileen had both returned to staring at her and, in the end, Aileen was right.  After all, hadn't she come back because she was suspicious in the first place?

"Alright.  Nah los."  Before she could second guess herself, Jacoba plucked the simplest, most unassuming wand from the bunch and gave it a hesitant and non-committed waggle in the air. 

Deaglan's gaze shifted from Abby to Aileen when the woman offered her explanation before drifting back to the youngest.  For all the Ministry's seemingly old-fashioned ways, Deaglan always found it remarkable how much of their ancient past lay forgotten.  To muggles, tales of goblins, giants and pixies were mere myths and legends.  To wizards, tales of some fairies, spiritual connections to the stone ruins and the lands of Tir na nOg were just as shrouded in archaic legends. 

"Aye.  Perhaps it's only said by some," Deaglan offered, arching an eyebrow as he watched Abby.  "But, should you spy one on the road, I suggest you avoid catching its gaze.  Or, trust those who seem to have made friends with it." 

Yes, squib and perhaps a little on the dense side.  Deaglan nodded his head as Abby declined to give the wands a try before turning his attention to Jacoba.  The young woman, it seemed, had decided to make a move.  Deaglan grasped his own wand firmly in his left hand and held it at the ready as the woman lifted an ancient, gnarled and unadorned grapevine wand from the box and gave it haphazard wobble. 

The tip of the wand glowed for a brief moment, a few specks of light lifting from the tip and drifting up towards the curved roof of the wagon.  They lingered and danced, briefly, like a small trio of trapped fireflies.  They fluttered about until they found and open window and drifted away. 

Deaglan grinned at the look of blind astonishment and the woman's face and leaned back against the wall of the wagon.  "There's your answer for you.  And, not a bad guess for a blind draw.  It's not common for the first try to not leave something in splinters." 

Aileen looked just as stunned as Jacoba. She had not been expecting this. Certainly not on Jacoba’s first try. What had played out in her head was that they’d get here, go through several unresponsive wands, and then head home, confident that Jacoba was not a witch and her strange magical occurrences could be explained some other way.

This was simpler. And it made things so much more complicated.

As Abby hopped up and loudly expressed her joy, Aileen’s eyes narrowed at the wand as if she suspected foul play, an elaborate prank of some sort by the wandmaker who had grown bored traveling the countryside in his too-tiny wagon. He did not seem surprised by this outcome at all. She looked at him, skepticism clear on her face.

“What does this mean, exactly?” Aileen asked, knowing the obvious answer yet not quite wanting to say it. “Have you seen this before, from someone of age like Jacoba? She’s never had a wand. Never received a Hogwarts letter.”

Perhaps he hadn’t realized all of that from Jacoba’s letter.

Abby sat still for once in her life, her expression a mixture of shock and elation. Then she hopped up, bumped her head on a shelf, ignored it, and hugged Jacoba, letting out a squeal in her ear.

“I knew it I knew it I knew it!”

She’d known that there had to be a reason for all of this happening! It couldn’t just be the universe screwing with her, giving her hope and then taking it away again. If Jacoba was really magical, it meant the young woman had a chance at fitting into Sasha’s world- the real world, the only world worth fitting into completely.

“Isn’t this amazing? Aren’t you happy?” She glanced around the wagon that wasn’t nearly big enough to contain her enthusiasm.

“It means she’s a witch, dummy!” Abby laughed at her foolish sister, not at all intimidated by her affronted look. She took Aileen’s hands and swung them in the air for a few seconds before plopping down on the seat next to her, breathless and giddy.

The wagon was filled with an interesting array of reactions, ranging from the squib's enthusiastic squealing to the older woman's suspicion and uncertainty.  The erstwhile Muggle remained the quietest of the three, eying the wand in her hand with a mixture of distrust and fear.  She appeared to try to wrestle a more enthusiastic grin on her face with the squib hugged her but hastily replaced the wand in the box when the squib moved on to Aileen. 

Not much one for subtleties, that one. 

Deaglan watched Jacoba a few moments as the woman appeared to lose herself in her own thoughts.  "It means she possesses magical ability," Deaglan confirmed on the heels of the squib's blunt and accurate answer.  "And could, certainly, chose to learn the magical arts.  Whether or not she chooses to, however, the side effects of uncontrolled magic will continue." 

Deaglan nodded his head, turning his attention to Aileen and the giddy squib.  "It's not common but it's also not impossible for muggleborns to get missed by the magical schools.  Hogwarts registers magical births within its borders - there are those that fall between the cracks.  In the vast majority of cases, however, those that are missed are discovered when the magic begins to manifest in childhood.  Most are identified in time to receive a letter."

Looking back at Jacoba, Deaglan arched a curious eyebrow.  "No.  I have not seen magic surprise someone this late in life."  And, if the young woman was faking the surprise, she was doing an awful good job of it.

The wandmaker seemed more open to exceptions than other witches and wizards, especially those in her family and related social circles - the same social circles that had treated Abby differently when she was declared magicless. Aileen had thought it was getting better these past few years, and certainly after Abby had landed her internship at the Ministry. But then Dreogan Eleor had disappeared earlier this month. Now, it wasn't the Ministry or public opinion or fear keeping Abby at home, but Aileen's own fear for her sister.

"I see," she nodded at him, holding back her other questions. Aileen glanced at the quiet muggle. The potential witch, albeit a reluctant one. When Aileen had met her, Jacoba had vacillated between being Sasha's sister and Abby's friend, but today, she had magic. She belonged.

Though Aileen didn't want to admit it, it changed how she viewed her. It was easier to see her as a person, and as yet another person who had what her sister did not.

Aileen glanced at Abby, who looked at her, waiting for direction.

"Are you alright?" Aileen ask Jacoba in a gentle, but distant tone, pushing away her emotions.

As Jacoba stared at the box of wands, she was only half aware of the conversation going on around her.  It seemed superfluous.  Irrelevant.  She didn't care how common or unheard of her situation was.  It didn't matter if this had happened to only one other person, a thousand other people or no one else at all. 

It had happened to her.  And, she wasn't sure whether she was angry, terrified or relieved. 

Jacoba heard Aileen's question and looked up and away from the wands.  "I don't know," she admitted, shaking her head.  She opened her mouth to speak before letting it fall closed, again, with another shake of her head.  Again, she opened it.  "I don't understand how it's possible.  I'm ... my parents are muggle.  Very muggle.  My grandparents were muggle.  They only reason my brother has magic is because my mum shagged that wizard.  But, that professor's sure not my father.  So ... how ..." 

What else had her parents not told her?  What else had they kept to themselves?  "What ... do you think they could have known?  Is that why the hated me?  Why the kept me away from my brother?" 

If they'd found out and if she'd known, would the wizarding world have been able to find her?  Like it had found her brother?  Would she have had some place to go?  She'd always been the misfit - the one that just didn't quite belong.  At home, on the streets - even down in Germany.  It had eventually become a badge of pride and, in some ways, it was why she'd worked in the wizarding world.  She was the muggle that had found her own little mismatched place. 

"Now what am I supposed to do?"