The great inventor was on a trip. His father, the brilliant man himself, decided that since their little boy was so 'special' it was okay for him to explore his new world. The man (claiming to be from the Ministry of Magic) who came the other night explained the cat incident in such a way that it wasn't terribly frightening. Knowing that the cat was okay, and his adopted son was not being malicious and that he just didn't know his own strength made it easy to forgive and forget. Putting in a call to his brother, he and his wife decided to give him the summer to explore a little. Making arrangements to send him from their comfortable little home to his uncles was no small task, but it was done in little under a week.

Luckily for Fyedka his uncle lived near this Diagon Alley the bloke from the ministry mentioned to him. The gentleman had given the young boy a map and some contacts when he got a chance to go there. It was a long shot, but he wanted to try an explore first chance he got. So with instructions in hand, Fyedka was sent on a long train ride towards his uncles. His trunk was filled with books and models to keep him occupied while visiting, but Fyedka hoped things would be more interesting then just sitting around in the room all day.

Once there, his Uncle who was a Business man, kept the house neat and tidy. Set up a room for the young man which was an old study of his. On a day off he decided to give his nephew some money and dropped him off where he was instructed. Waving, Fyedka followed some oddly dressed people into what looked like a pub. Once there he asked someone for directions to Diagon Alley and a friendly almost homely witch helped him towards the entrance touching some bricks and walking him through.

Stepping into Diagon Alley and clutching his money, he looked with wide eyes at the moving crowds. Everyone seemed to be in various forms of odd dress. Looking down at himself Fyedka pushed up his glasses and looked over his seemingly normal apparel. He was starting to realize how he stuck out like a sore thumb. His first attempt to walk around wizarding London and he looked like a tourist. Chewing on his lower lip he joined a crowd walking towards what looked to be a store and he tripped dropping his money onto the cobble stones. Bending down to pick the bills off the ground, he realized that someone was looking at him. Taking his money he shoved it into his pocket and dusted off the knees of his denim trousers. A redness had started to cover his cheeks, "Ello" he squeaked out.

"Coming through!" Matilda Quinn's voice echoed as she darted into the shade between two brick buildings, and emerged some twelve seconds later on the other side, guitar case swinging rather lethally in her grasp. She'd jogged from the winding, dodgy, back road outskirts of wizarding London straight into the thick of Diagon Alley in record time, and had even managed not to go bobbing past that cluster of Knockturn Alley shops that always seemed particularly populated with people whose faces were permanently melted into droopy basset hound frowns. Only, they weren't permanent, not really, and Tilly knew that their collective countenance was all for her. She would have stopped to thank them for their devotion, if she'd ever had the time, but she usually had more important things to do-- such as not moping about the fact that she didn't have a silly wand. Matilda might have been a squib, but at least she didn't resort to self inducing ugliness. Merlin bless the old canines.

But before she could dash to the left and find the set of crickety old stairs (more like a fire escape) which that led to the print shop, Tilly saw a shiny new muggle pound roll past her like tumbleweed. Her mouth formed an o-shape as she watched it assume a spin, and finally fall flat an inch from her feet. Eyes darting round, as if following an invisible rewind function, the young woman traced it right back... to the human definition of Adorable. It even had glasses!

After a moment of the watching the boy-- and realizing too late that she probably looked like a right creep-- Matilda broke into a smile and wiggled her fingers in greeting. "Hello yourself. You alright there?"

Balancing the guitar case under one arm, and still grinning at the child, Tilly crouched and fished up the coin he'd missed, successfully avoiding the fact that she was supposed to have picked up a stack of posters five minutes ago. The printer could wait. She was being a Good Citizen. Albeit, for purely selfish reasons.

Matilda slowly straightened up and stepped closer, hoping not to scare the daylights out of the little man, who could easily be one of those creatures afraid of their own shadows. Not to pre-judge, or anything. She held out her palm, pound in hand. "This is worth over five sickles, might want to hang on to it," she laughed." That's five guitar picks, at least. But I'm afraid you'll need to exchange it if you want to buy anything around here."

The night of the floating cat was not one he wished to remember anytime soon. His cat was just so ruddy annoying knocking over his prized model was the last straw. He had thought terrible things, awful things about that stupid feline and the next thing he knew he was watching it grow in size. It was frightening as well as intriguing. His father had to hop up quickly and shut off the ceiling fan as it was circulating at a high rate of speed when the cat became airborne.

Remembering the man in his funny robes telling him of his abilities that was the best part of it all. To find that he was special, different than the children he grew up around. Though he didn't know who his parents were, there had to be something he had that was like them. To be a wizard, something absolutely stunning, had been his favorite discovery yet.

Fyedka adjusted his lenses attempting to get a better look at the young woman he had addressed. He gave her a small grin, the woman looked to be wearing similar attire to his own. That calmed him somewhat. "Oi, um no I think I'm fine..." he checked his knees again the curls on his head bouncing a little as he shot a look back up at her. "No, I don't think there is anything a miss..." he held out his hand to take his money from her palm.

Blinking a little as she mentioned sickles, the young man's eyes narrowed. "Pardon me, but are you a wizard?" Having never heard of the other terms he figured that was his best shot. Since she wasn't wearing anything like  the rest of those around him. "Wait what's a sickle? Guitar Picks? I'm a little confused..." he said quietly. "Exchange it for what?" He had a million questions running in his head, but he was sure this girl was probably headed somewhere.

Tilly only continued to smile, relieved that the boy didn't seem to find her a complete weirdo-- only she probably would have kept talking to him either way, because hs seemed as lost as he was cute. "Well, good. I'm glad you're fine. No broken bones or anything? That's impressive. I drop a galleon and I wipe myself out for two weeks at least," she laughed, only joking. Although galleons were a bit heavier than pounds, to be fair. "Or not quite. You know, just a bit clumsy once in a while." Like most people, but always at the worst times. Tilly took it in stride.

Was she a wizard? Oh dear Merlin, that was a mouthful of a question-- and even a bigger answer. Of all the people to run into, this poor little bloke had fallen victim to Diagon Alley's resident squib. Which Matilda personally felt was much luckier than running into any of its more numerous gits. Squibs, at least, had hope for semi-normal lives. The perpetually self-entitled wouldn't fair as well. From the looks and sound of it, this child was definitely muggleborn. Maybe it was a good thing she'd gone to muggle school.

"I-- no, love, I'm sort of-- er. Let me buy you a Butterbeer Float over at Fortescue's and I'll help you out." And summarize a couple millennia's worth of wizarding history? Ha. "Sickles... our currency, like pounds for wizards, you know? We'll get you some proper money from Gringotts, alright?" To hell with the printer! Matilda could use a good spin on one of those little go-carts under the bank. But then, considering the boy didn't have an account in the first place, they'd have to do nothing of the sort. "I'm Matilda. I promise I won't kidnap you."

Steadying her guitar case, Matilda tossed her head in the general direction of the ice-cream parlour some several shops down the crowded, cobbled road. Her hair was a bit of a pleasant mess at the moment, and was beginning to lighten from all of the summer sun pushing its way into May. She couldn't wait for June, when Hogwarts would let out and there'd be a million people loitering around Reducto Records. Unlike most shopkeepers, Tilly loved loiterers. They breathed life into the place. They gave it character.

"Where are you from? Did you just get your Hogwarts letter?" She asked as she began to lead the way, trusting that he would follow. It didn't seem like he had anyone else to guide him. She wondered how he'd gotten into Diagon Alley on his own in the first place... but then kids were quite a deal more brilliant than most people credited them with being.

Fyedka's eyes narrowed as his glasses slipped down to the bottom of his nose again and he let out a small sigh. It was like he couldn't wrap his mind around his current surroundings or what he was being told. The young woman before him was going to be in for quite the question and answer session. "No no I had it sorted mind you, broken bones weren't going to be an issue..." he chuckled lightly. Fyedka was not exactly a rough and tumble type but he could take a drop here or there. "Really wiped for two weeks, that cannot be healthy," he shook his head and the curls followed.

The young man adjusted his stance a little. He knew nothing of the magical world other than he was supposed to be in it. If there was something called a squib he was without any knowledge or hope of grasping it. The whole situation was sad really. The product of an affair adopted by muggles. Thankfully the muggle family had loved him dearly, it just wasn't who he was. He never could quite figure out why he was different and now he knew.

If only he knew a little more to why. This woman could hold the answers, his inquisitive mind wouldn't let him rest. "A what?" He just looked at her like she had three heads. What on earth was she going to buy him and where?! "Currency, you have something other than I do?" Or maybe they had the money first. Fyedka couldn't be certain. This was all too much for him to take in at once, but with a little time he was certain it would all make a spot more sense.

With the promise not to kidnap him floating in the air the boy froze. What in the name of all things sane was he getting himself into? He certainly didn't know, but he figured waiting around the middle of a busy street with out a clue wouldn't get him far. "I should certainly hope note," he squeaked out again semi-nervous. Swallowing that fear so that he might follow this girl towards the ice cream parlor.

He shook his head again as she asked him questions following her step by step. "No I haven't received a letter... I actually found out from a man who said he was from..." he couldn't remember the title so he searched his pockets for the scrubby piece of paper he wrote it down on. "Oh, yes Accidental Reversal Squad," he chirped, "I had an incident..." he still felt bad for the cat... for the most part.

Matilda raised her brows, hands moving to her hips as she grinned down at the boy, who seemed surprisingly sure of himself, even if he also seemed a bit nervous. "I'll be sure to let them know you've refused their offer, those broken bones." She suppressed a laugh at his analysis, and wondered whether he was always so literal. It couldn't be healthy? "Probably not so much, no," She agreed. She leaned closer, lowering her voice; a cloud of sun-kissed brown hair seemed to follow, spilling over her shoulders. "But, I didn't always drink my milk when my mum told me to, so..." Matilda looked curiously between her arms for a moment, her glance indicating only a questionable amount of muscle and strength. Finally, she looked back to the boy again, shrugging and smiling.

"A butterbeer float. Ice-cream drowning in liquid sugar, really." That usually won them over. Tilly would never turn one down, and she was twenty-four. And hey, look at that, it even had a serving of milk in there somewhere. "It's better than the kind on the other side of wall. There's nothing like Butterbeer anywhere where you're from-- wherever you're from." She still wasn't quite sure, but it was more apparent now than even two minutes ago that he was certainly muggleborn... or muggle raised. Tilly always felt a little extra compassion toward them. They were essentially Matilda, reversed. Of course, there were those fleeting pangs of envy once in a blue moon, too, but mostly just a sense of kinship. Sharing the experience of displacement in an entire world seemed more lasting than sharing the experience of wand-waving. At least to the woman without a wand.

As she led the way to Fortescue's, Tilly stole glances of the boy at her side, and didn't falter in her tracks even as she also wiggled her fingers in greeting at random people moving in the opposite direction, and narrowly evaded potential disasters with her guitar case. the music devotee had come to know quite a few of the locals in her several years of living and working in Diagon Alley.

"Of course we have our own currency." She laughed, but couldn't really blame him. She wondered, though, whether Hogwarts ever explained these things when they informed muggle-raised students of their acceptance. "It would be nice, though, if you could buy a potions kit with quid." Tilly remembered what it had been like, when she'd finally visited Hogwarts during one of the Remembering Day celebrations-- it was after the war, she'd been sixteen or seventeen, and had felt impossibly young and lost, even having grown up in the wizarding world. And this poor boy probably hadn't even seen a wand yet. "There's about five sickles and 22 knuts to a pound-- today." She knew it could be overwhelming to learn, but it was best to lay it out in the table. Things like currency and second languages always seemed to get harder as a person got older. Music, too. "It changes all of the time, I'm afraid." Luckily, Matilda kept up with the muggle end of the music industry as often as she could, and it helped her stay mindful of the exchange rate.

Tilly merely grinned and stared ahead when the boy voiced his reservation. She wasn't in the kidnapping business. They were adorable, most of them, but she would never do anything of the sort. When they reached the ice-cream shop, she curled her fingers over the back of a chair at a vacant table shaded by a large yellow umbrella. It had been warmed by the sun, and was the perfect place to lounge while enjoying a cold treat. Matilda gestured with a light nod that he was welcome to sit. After setting her guitar case in another of the empty chairs, as if they were a party three and not two, Tilly took her own seat. She would never tire of Fortescue's. She leaned back with ease and crossed her legs, finally devoting her attention to the child once more.

A visit from the Accidental Reversal Squad had to be traumatic when you were ten and didn't know what a wand was. But maybe there was a brighter side to it; Matilda didn't want to encourage being afraid of the wizarding world. "I suppose that's better than no visit at all, isn't it?" She'd heard it was hard for young people to control their magic. Angry people, too. She wondered what he had done. Hopefully stopped someone up to no good... and not in the fun, harmless way of being up to no good. Kids were often as vicious as they were adorable, she couldn't soon forget. Luckily, the promising ones outnumbered the bullies. "I'm not a witch," she elaborated slowly. "My parents, they're a witch and wizard. My whole family, actually. All magic, except for me." She grinned, seeming to oddly revel in this fact. "I hope you don't mind keeping company with a squib... that's wizard-ese for a non magic person born to Purebloods. I can show you around here as well as anyone else. And look, I can't even hex you." She raised both hands, indicating no wand.

"But still, they could have given you the letter while they were dropping in. 'Oh, by the way, you're a wizard, and you'll probably want to attend Hogwarts in the fall, so here's your list of school books...'" That never crossed their minds? She shook her head humorously. She remembered being very young and still believing that she would on day get a letter. Those hopes had been squashed sooner, rather than later, and it was well enough. Merlin bless whoever organized things at the Ministry. Tilly would have put it in a worse state, probably, but they could at least afford some common sense. It was too big of an entity, maybe. But Tilly appreciated all they did. She mightn't be here if it weren't for the Ministry. And the war... "I'm sure you'll get your letter soon... unless you killed someone. What did you say your name was?" She posed the question even as she picked up one of the glossy menus in the middle of the table and perused to cafe's sweet selection.

Though Fyedka clearly had no skills in the wizarding department, he was still quicker than most of the children his age due to his keen intellect and attention to detail. Though he doubted that he would always be right, Fyedka had a way of being wrapped up in school work, in hopes of achieving the best grades he could. Looking at the people in Diagon Alley as they brushed past the young lad, he wondered if they all attended this mysterious school like he was going to? Fyedka knocked himself from reverie once more to pay attention to the woman who was kind enough to assist his lost soul, "Milk. Hmm, I believe my mum mentioned it a time or two..." he gave her a small grin to show he too could joke.

"A butterbeer float. Ice-cream drowning in liquid sugar, really."

His eyes grew in size, "Yes well... I don't think that would be a bad idea at all. If you would be so kind," he licked his lips thinking about the intake of sugar he was about to ingest. Maybe this world wasn't as frightening as he assumed. There was a decent amount of change in his pocket, Fyedka hoped to pick up a couple books on the matter. Maybe he could get his current tour guide to show him the best books to purchase.

"--wherever you're from."

Ice cream was rather top notch at home. His mum knew exactly how he liked it prepared. She enjoyed cutting up the bananas and drizzling the chocolate over his fave creamed ice. His mother was so different then the caretakers of his childhood that he now thankfully barely remembered anymore. Born in Russia but adopted never came across that well in conversation. Luckily being with his parents in Wales since he was five. His parents had scooped him up and took excellent care of him despite his initial fears and apprehension they loved him and he them. Inside he still wondered secretly who his parents were, maybe he would find out here.

"Well if we have our own currency," he said as if he knew what he was, which of course wasn't entirely true, "I suppose I will have to exchange what I have in my pockets soon..." he was itching to buy something wizard related. Fyedka wondered how many others felt the same as he. Who else came to this place completely lost? "I'm sure I can keep up," he replied with another tiny grin. Fyedka could keep up with most matters once fully explained to him. A gift and a curse.

Taking his seat under the yellow umbrella he pushed up his glasses as a particularly oddly dressed woman passed him. Eyes growing in size he looked back at Tilly, "Please tell me that we don't have to dress like that..." he wasn't generally judgmental but for the love of all things sane that was a getup he didn't think could be normal. She wore what looked like a long oddly colored frock, something cob webbed in her hat, and was muttering to herself. It was an odd sight for anyone to behold, he was was almost sure of it.

The visit from this Ernie Macmillan bloke hadn't been traumatic so much as it was different. He never experienced something so odd before, and to have been told something like he was a Wizard, well that made the experience more exciting than anything else. "So wait, you have all wizards and witches in your family and you don't have any magic? That seems unfair," his eyes narrowed as he looked her over. She seemed to be okay to him, why wasn't she able to have the same abilities. "Well as happy as I am that you can't hex me, it seems like you were dealt an bad hand... I don't even know what my parents were actually, my mum and dad aren't really my parents," he blurted out a little. Maybe that's why he was the way he was. "My parents adopted me. So really I haven't the foggiest who was who in my lineage," pushing up his glasses as he spoke again.

Fyedka crossed his arms, "I most certainly did not kill anyone," he felt a little defensive. "I just, accidentally blew up the family cat," replying as if it was nothing. Fyedka actually had found it humorous even if his parents did not. "I'm staying with my uncle for the summer, do you think I will still get my letter even if I'm not at home? Should I go back?" Fyedka wasn't sure how this was going to work out. "Oh," Fyedka realized he never properly introduced himself, "My name's Fyedka Lovelock," holding out his hand to shake hers attempting to remain polite even though she thought he might have killed someone an instant ago. Or was she joking? Fyedka didn't get wizard humor.