Picking his underwear out of his arse, Corby jumped lightly to the ground. A wide grin covered his face as he took in a deep breath of the crisp clean air. Having been stuck in a bus with wrock stars and didn’t exactly help the ‘smell’ factor; between the burps, farts, and poop, Corby was one glad dude to be out of the bus. Not that he didn’t go along with it; hell, he was obviously the loudest of them all, but still… some fresh air was required. As Jesse parked the van, Corby headed toward the Broomsticks, leaving Tilly and Dennis to deal with equipment and whatever else they did.

He expected the cacophony of noise when he entered the pub, but what he didn’t expect was the crowd. People in various stages of formality milled around, having a quick pint before heading up to the castle, he assumed. Others stood or sat sulkily. Not everyone was hot enough stuff to attend the Yule Ball, and why not band together with other losers like you? Gives everyone a chance to complain together.

The Wizarding Wireless Network was spitting out pre-ball stats, rattling off where all four schools sat in standings. Corby wished they’d turn the radio off; he never liked hearing 3OS on the receiver. He had always preferred to hear them play live, and got extremely self-conscious when hearing their recorded tracks. He sighed and walked up to the bar, waving off the pats on the back and wondered if the sheer amount of synthetic fabrics in the enclosed space would make his hair fritz out like he’d stuck his finger in an electrical outlet.

He flipped the barkeep a shiny gold coin, “Our room’s been prepared, yes?” he asked. They had owled in advance to get a reception area for them to ‘prepare’ before heading up to the castle and The Three Broomsticks just couldn’t refuse. “And I’ll take a flaming centaur,” the drink, named such because it would walk all over you, was simply because one couldn’t perform for a bunch of underage and barely legal babes sober.

Equally as glad to be out of the bump tin can as Corby, Jacoba followed the fellow into the Three Broomsticks.  The Wizarding World seemed to be in short supply of comfortable modes of transportation and the options were even more limited for the magically-incapable.  Getting to Hogsmeade by muggle means was an all day adventure and required a rather expensive combination of trains, buses, hitchhiking and, finally, an impressive hike.  Jacoba had already been helping with the pre-show preparations so when Tilly and the boys had offered a lift, Jacoba had gratefully accepted. 

"Quite the view," Jacoba chided as she followed Corby into the pub, catching the tail end of the bassist's attempt to adjust his britches.  Should the evening result in Jacoba being one step closer to working at the Ministry, she suspected she'd be very much in for a culture shock. 

The pub was, indeed, noisy and crowded but the barkeep shouted a confirmation over the din in Corby's general direction.  "Be just a few moments!  But, I can - for you."  Half of what the man said was drowned out by a sudden uplift in the ambient volume but his meaning became apparent when he gestured for the gear bag Jacoba was carrying and started carting it up the stairs. 

The barkeep returned a few moments later, bringing the flaming centaur with him and a simple pilsner for Jacoba.  The band might be gearing up to do their usual public performance routine and could handle a few drinks.  Jacoba, however, had to find a way to get all fancy with a second hand gown and actually be presentable with a man who was a Ministry Head of a Department.  Downing enough to calm her nerves would, likely, not be wise in the end.   

"How long before this thing starts, again?" Jacoba asked, shifting close enough to be heard.  "You been to one before, yes?"

Diaper bag for the room...speaker case for the school.  Duffle with clean clothes for the room...magically-compressed drum case for the school. 

Slowly but surely, the contents of the van had been unloaded into the snow in two carefully sorted piles and, with a wave and a chiming honk, Jesse pulled away with the van to park it somewhere for the evening.  One pile would be carted into the Three Broomsticks and left in their room for the night.  The other would be magically carted off to the castle where they would catch up with it in a short bit. 

"Why's it so bloody cold?" Dennis muttered as he glanced around, looking for some unidentified wizard coming to gather their things.  Dennis danced, both from impatience and cold, on the balls of his feet as he looked up and down the street before his gaze settled on Tilly holding a tightly wound bundle and he grinned, brightly.  There was, presumably, a baby somewhere in the bundle of coats and blankets but all that could be seen of little Colin Jr. was the slightly red button of a nose.  "He's gonna turn-" Dennis started to quip but the softest of creaks turned his attention to the Hogwarts-bound pile.  "Bloody-"  The bitterly cold air was starting to settle around the instruments, tightening and stiffening the strings. 

Dennis tugged his wand from his back pocket and quickly started casting a warming charm on the instrument cases before shaking his head.  "Can you go see where they are?" Dennis asked, glancing over his shoulder towards Tilly.  "If they don't hurry, we're gonna have to retune everything."  Which, of course, they'd have to tune anyway.  But, if the cold popped a string on the guitars, they'd be fighting a new string stretching all evening. 

Juggling was usually part of the job description at Reducto. Shipments, deliveries, schedules, impromptu in-house jam sessions by Diagon's best. Not having a wand in the Wizaring World meant that juggling became an especially creative skill. And then there was juggling things on the road: rock stars, fans, equipment, and the ever-clever, sometime worrying array of gifts from admirers, hawkish record producers, and anonymous owls alike. Juggling a tiny baby who was catching up in size to his peers at an alarming rate was a sort of magic Tilly was still getting used to-- exhaustive, at times perfectly baffling, and completely, thoroughly rewarding.

Corby seemed to have been eager to get out of the van. "He'll figure out you're a magnet soon enough,” Tilly promised the baby, eyes wide with humor. Colin Jr. seemed to be figuring that out himself— he had started to crawl in recent weeks, and anyone with a smile was enough to become a destination. Tilly lifted him and climbed out after Dennis, who was not nearly as bundled as his son.

“Turn?” She asked, smiling back at Dennis, waiting for an answer before looking down at the bundle in her arms. She had left the sling with their luggage. The room was close and the sitter wouldn’t need it. “You could take some lessons in dressing from him,” she teased. Dennis looked great, if cold. To be fair, it was cold. Even Colin in his pile of blankets had to feel, just a bit.

If anything was turning, it was the guitars in their cases. (Which again were not quite as bundled up as Colin.)

“I’ll find them.” Hunting rockstars and roadies was another special skill. Tilly wasn’t particularly demanding, but she certainly knew how to get people somewhere in a pinch. The squib had a sort of underdoggish luck and a penchant for nice bossiness. She walked near the pub’s window; whether it was magic or simply the roaring fire inside, a warmth seeped from it, inviting any and all to come inside for a drink. Poking her head around the corner, Tilly nearly ran into Jesse. “One down,” she said. “Dennis needs your help.” She gestured with her head and a knowing grin— carrying guitars and drum kits through the cold was part of the fun, and then stepped inside to recruit more help— and hopefully find the sitter, who was supposed to meet them.

This time she crossed paths with Thomas and the barkeep’s young helper— who, fortunately, as steering a magical trolley toward the door. “Stay warm,” she  said.

She spotted Corby and Jacoba, who already helped carry in some of the equipment, warming themselves at the bar. Tilly took a seat beside them, looking around for the sitter. If seeing a baby in a bar was weird for any of the customers, they hadn’t encountered this bunch yet. “So we’ll be seeing this legendary McGonagall tonight before you go on stage…” She looked from Corby to Jacoba (not knowing whether the latter had heard anything about the new Headmistress from her brother). She had numerous hilarious stories from Three Owl’s band members about their schooldays. She imagined bumping into one of her old professors before a Christmas-ball-turned-rock-concert, and grinned. “Drinks are on me.” Tilly accepted a warm tea for now. Once Colin was settled in upstairs, she would join the others for a toast.