Truth be told, when Raizel wasn’t around, Akiva didn’t get to socialize much.  She’d tried going to Frank’s – that had been… interesting… and a reminder that she needed to send an owl or get some kind of confirmation before going anywhere. Granted, it did help take her mind off of the things that were going on – and some fo the gossip that was going around the MAO, in particular. 

She figured it was filtering in from other places in the ministry but people were talking, more and more, about gruesome things happening in the rest of the world, and with the weight of raising her infant son without any reassurances of her husband’s whereabouts or safety… it didn’t exactly make her rest easy hearing these other things…  Talk about a dybbuk – a possessive spirit –she tried to get away as soon as she heard talk of it.  It sounded ghastly – most things, she realized, in the news these days did.  There’d been all of those terrible murders in Muggle London (which had been hell hearing about from both ends, even at her parents’ house, and then, of course, with Raizel being connected to Gringotts, it had her all types of worried). 

On top of that, Raizel had not even been in England.  She hadn’t told Akiva many details about what she was doing – but it appeared to be something work related, and she worried, of course, for her friend, especially when she had so little information – which only fueled her imagination – which did not tend to go in… happy directions, currently, but Akiva survived. 

Whatever the case, Raizel had returned and Akiva was excited to see her – and maek sure that she was alright.  Sure, she’d heard from her, but that didn’t really mean anything, and she wouldn’t be able to see if she was any worse for wear.  She’d made sure she was preparing for Raizel to return (mostly to keep her mind from wandering even more unpleasant places), when she heard a knock at the door. 

Lady was barking up a storm, typical, and Gordon was nowhere to be seen.  Akiva hated to do it, but she very quickly silenced poor Lady, confused from the bit of magic (Gabriel was down for a nap and she couldn’t risk having him wake up).  She’d thought it could perhaps be Raizel a little early – uncharacteristic, but… maybe not unheard of! 

It didn’t stop her from going through the ritual Dreogan had ingrained in her, however.  It wasn’t just about opening the door straight away, but also looking through the peeping Tom and tapping on the locks in the correct sequence… it was a process.  Most regular guests were used to it.  The person on the other side knocked again, and Lady jumped at the door, even without sound trying to get at the guest, and Akiva gently nudged her out of the way to peer through. 

It was strange, there was an aura of magic that the peeping Tom definitely picked up on, and as such, the guest’s features were obscured.  Perhaps they had something of a glamour up over his or her face – she couldn’t see.

Her heart thrummed in her chest. 

She moved away from the door, keeping her wand firmly in her hand.  The knocking was getting a little more aggressive, though no more than a couple of raps at a time.  It could have been completely innocent, but she wasn’t taking any chances.  She stood, her wand in hand, sliding a few steps back toward the stairwell.  Like a famous fictional detective once noted: a woman would go for her most prized possession in the case of an emergency, and Gabriel was up in his crib.   

She heard a metallic sort of sound – like the post box on the side of the door and then a sharp snapping, like an irritated closing.  Akiva moved forward again, to glance through the peeping Tom once more, the shrouded figure slowly retreating from the front steps.  Akiva watched with baited breath, still making no move to open the latches and locks. 

Silent apparition had never been Raizel's forte.  The crack that sounded as the blonde mage appeared at the edge of the Eleors' property would have surely startled any waiting birds into flight.  As it was, the apparition left her hardly the worst for ware; Raizel gave a heavy sigh, tossing her hair back and adjusting her grip on her bag as she started across the lawn.

She had been expecting a long weekend, but it had been an even longer weekend abroad than she had anticipated.  Cameron Rosier -- well, at least the wizard had managed to find a new pair of Moroccan slippers at the end of it.  The adventure in Morocco had left her with plenty to mull over, and it was because of that that Raizel had guiltily taken a little longer than she should to visit her friend upon her return.

Her apparition hadn't startled away any birds, but it had clearly announced her arrival to another unexpected figure who was present.  Raizel barely had time to get a glimpse -- a dark figure in a hooded cloak, something shiny glinting against its neck -- before there was a second crack to mirror the first and the intruder was gone.

The shock was as if she'd been punched in the stomach.  Raizel spun around, yanking her wand free, but there was no sign of movement behind her.  Was she too late?  Was this Topuluk come to finish what it had started, or some enemy who had followed her home from Marrakesh?  Or something else entirely, some new danger that she had not even anticipated that had come down on Akiva Eleor?

"Akiva?"  Her voice rose unbidden as Raizel rushed forward.  The door was still shut -- a quick sweep of her wand and a whispered Goleya revealed that the protective spells were still intact on it -- but there could be other dangers still lurking here.  Her eyes caught sight of a small package wrapped in paper that had been left leaning against the door.  "Akiva?!  Are you there?  Are you all right?"

Clapping her hand over her mouth, Akiva stifled the yelp of surprise at the two very distinct cracks she heard coming from outside.  One, she might have expected, whoever the potential visitor was.  But, a second?  It could be any number of things, and her heart was pounding – she didn’t really want to go near the Peeping Tom.  If others had arrived…

She didn’t know what anyone could want with her.  Well, that wasn’t entirely true, there were plenty of reasons, but with everything that had happened, perhaps Akiva was being ridiculous in hoping for just a little bit of a reprieve.

Whatever the case, she hoped it did not reach Gabriel’s ears.  She didn’t want him to wake up, or be frightened, by whatever was going on, and secondly, only when she was certain that she would no longer wake him up by yelling or reacting, she lowered her hand, wand still clutched at her side in her white knuckles. 

A nervous whine escaped her as she heard a familiar voice – Raizel’s- from behind the door.  She stopped though, before rushing forward. 

It could not be her.  Polyjuice was not impossible to brew, and if someone truly wanted access to her life, at this point there were very few people even allowed through the doors.  Raizel Cohen would have been a fine choice. 

She steeled her nerves, remembering what Raizel had taught her – and looked through the Peeping Tom, designed to detect concealment charms and whatever else Dreogan had done to it.  She dreaded it, really, and approached it with both eyes shut until she heard Raizel’s voice again, and was able to finally screw courage to the sticking place and open up. 

Blessedly, the woman did not glow, or appear shaded, or any other indication of malicious intent.  Akiva tapped her wand to the door, her free hand shaking as she undid the locks and murmured the counter-charms to the ones placed for protection.  She felt very light-headed as she moved to open the door, and as soon as she finally opened it, she heard a soft thud (not paying attention to it) and practically launched herself at Raizel. 

She knew her friend was not the most physical of beings, and certainly did not usually offer hugs, but Akiva could not help herself.  She had missed her, and more than that, was just so glad that it was, in fact, Raizel, that she needed that moment to latch onto her and hold tight.  “I’m so glad it’s you,” she breathed, finally pulling back and released Raizel from the tightest hug she could give, and stepped out of the way to motion her inside. She was so overwhelmed, she had completely forgotten that she’d even muted Lady, who was now snapping her jaws and turning in circles, confused at her own lack of sound. 

She had been on guard against some sort of attack -- from behind, from inside, from whatever assailant had apparated away -- but not of this sort.  The door was flung open, and an instant later, Akiva was flying at her.  The startled mage took a step back, but before she could do more than jerk away, the other woman had engulfed her in a hug.

Raizel stood still and stiff; it took an instant for instinct to kick in, and she patted Akiva awkwardly on the back.  It was not that she was against hugging, but the kind that came from being nearly tackled by her witch friend was not the sort that she was used to giving.  Akiva might be glad to see her, and she was glad to see the other woman as well, but this wasn't the time to let their guard down.  Relief could wait until the situation was settled.

Akiva let her go, and Raizel glanced back to the edge of the yard again, rolling her shoulders back to crack them.  "You should still be careful," she scolded Akiva firmly, though her heart wasn't really in it.  There was nothing there, no movement against the shrubbery that surrounded the little house.  Clenching her jaw, she ignored Akiva's motions for her to come inside and stepped around the door to look for the package that had been resting against it.

It was flat and wrapped in brown paper, about the size of a large book, and tied with a string.  Judging by Goleya, there were no active spells on it, but that didn't mean that it was safe.  Plenty of dangers in the world had nothing to do with magic; she'd learned that well enough in her life.

Frowning, she bent to pick it up, judging it carefully in her hand.  "Do you know who that was?" she asked Akiva, her eyes flicking to the woman, and then back to the package again.  Plain brown paper, and judging by the feel of it, it was some sort of small heavy book.  "How long was he standing out here?"

As much as Akiva didn’t want to admit it: Raizel was right.  The door was still open, they weren’t exactly in a protected space in the doorway.  She could tell there wasn’t the same kind of impatience that had been extended toward her in the beginning of their friendship,   

It was nice though, to know that Raizel’s feelings had changed, and Akiva’s too, for that matter.  It hadn’t been the easiest start to a friendship, but born of unforeseen circumstances and pushed to other places because more of them, it was a strong bond. 

Following Raizel’s line of sight, Akiva mulled her jaw.  She wasn’t really sure that Raizel should pick it up, but before she could even open her mouth to say something, Rai was already down and the package was in her hand.  It was rectangular, not too large, wrapped in normal brown paper.

Under any other set of circumstances, it could have been a package from anyone, from anywhere.  But, now it seemed like something dangerous, something that could potentially cause harm to the people she loved and had left.  Shaking her head to Raizel’s immediate question, she had no idea who that man was. 

“He had some kind of magical cloaking on,” she explained, motioning to her face, “all of his features were… obscured,” she continued, biting her lip. 

As for how long he had been out there, Akiva pursed her lips.  “Not long, maybe two or three minutes.  Granted, it felt like an hour, but it wasn’t,” she licked her bottom lip, eyeing the package again. 

“Should we even take it inside?” she asked, painfully aware of her sleeping son upstairs.  “We don’t even know what it is – or what’s in it.”

The Cursebreaker's attention was solely focused on the package now.  She could feel the stiff spine of a hard-backed book through the thin paper wrapping.  She pressed her fingers against it carefully, investigating the feel of it -- some embossed design or lettering raised against the cover, corners that were worn rather than soft, the heavy weight of it.  Could it be something related to Dreogan's disappearance?  Some message that had been delivered to Akiva?

The hair on the back of her neck prickled as she glanced over her shoulder at the empty yard.  She hadn't really been listening to anything that Akiva had been saying, up until the very last.  No, bringing some mysterious package inside might not be the very safest decision -- but she liked the idea of standing out here and exposed even less.

"It is a book," she said matter-of-factly.  "What could be inside it besides words?"  Although -- for a second, her heart skipped, but she resolutely pushed the thought aside.  This was no music box; no one could have enchanted a book to contain anything like a dybbuk.

"How is Gabriel?" she asked, glancing at Akiva as she stepped inside.  She had spent enough time at the other witch's house now that she didn't feel awkward upon entering.  Raizel hesitated for a moment, glancing across the entryway, and then started for the kitchen.  Here in the Katz-Eleor family's home, that was Akiva's space -- warmly lit and comfortable.  If they were going to confront some strange mysterious brown-papered book, she'd just as soon do it there, away from the dust and lingering secrets of Dreogan's study.  "You've been all right today, other than that visitor?"

“I guess,” Akiva bit her lip and conceded.  The question Raizel posed was a logical one.  Akiva knew books very rarely contained anything but words, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to risk having it in the house.  But, Raizel was a cursebreaker.  She should, at the very least, know what she was doing in respects to mysterious things in brown paper packages.

There was definitely a song about paper packages, something about string and enjoying them – it wasn’t coming to Akiva straight off the bat, but the idea did pop into her head.  She certainly wasn’t a fan of this package, however. 

She followed Rai in, processing her question about Gabriel, at least Akiva could smile at that.  “He’s down for a nap right now,” she explained – glad that her son was not awake for the incident, “but he’s been good.  He’s been babbling more – lots of sounds,” she smiled more widely at this.  He was a talkative little boy, always making noise and starting to get more excitable about everything.

It was easy to talk about him, at the very least.  Much easier than focusing on whatever was in Raizel’s hands as they moved toward the kitchen; Akiva’s favorite and most comfortable room.  “I’ve been well though, up until this, like you said,” she motioned to the package and licked her lips. 

“What about you?  How was your trip?” she asked, glancing at the package in her hands.  She frowned, wondering what it was –and if she even really wanted to know.  Somehow that made her more anxious, the idea that it could be something not meant to physically hurt her, but could rub salt in wounds that already felt fresh every day. 

Even in the dead of winter, Akiva's kitchen smelled like warmer days -- spice and sage and cinnamon, a gentle wafting reminder that autumn was not so long ago and spring not so long to arrive.  There might be a chill outside, but it was always warm in here; whether because Akiva had spruced up her study with enchantments or whether the small space had simply grown so used to the glow from the oven that it never let go of the summery warmth, Raizel had yet to decide.

The jolt of the suprise visitor had been mere moments before, but here, the distance seemed much greater.  The Cursebreaker let out a breath as she stepped inside, glancing across the friendly kitchen to make certain that it was really and truly empty, and then started for the kitchen table.

"Beseder,[1]" she said, giving a careless shrug.  No adventure involving Cameron Rosier was ever really merely okay; the old wizard had a habit of attracting trouble to him in a way that few could rival.  But they'd made it back to England, and excepting a pair of tacky Moroccan slippers, everyone was in one piece.  "At least we were somewhere warm again.  Winter here is too cold."

There were no sounds coming from upstairs.  Gabriel must still be asleep.  Raizel glanced at Akiva -- she wasn't sure if her friend would go through her normal motions of offering tea or something to eat, or if the scare had preempted that -- and set the package on the table.

"Here," she said, nudging it toward the other woman.  Sketchy delivery method or not, the small book had been brought to Akiva.  "Do you want to open it?"

1.	Hebrew for "Okay"

Akiva couldn’t help but laugh a little at Raizel’s sizing up of Morocco: at least it was it was warm.  It seemed like such a quintessentially Raizel thing to say, for some reason.  It was straightforward, no sugar coating, and honest.  Akiva appreciated those things about her, especially when she, at times, lacked the capacity to be straightforward about things.

The package was no exception. 

She gulped, looking at the package and then back at Raizel.  “I… I really don’t,” Akiva swallowed hard.  She didn’t like the package, and she didn’t like the way it was delivered.  She wasn’t sure, based on everything else in her life, that she was going to like what it contained either. Happy packages did not come from strangers who refused to announce themselves and showed up unexpectedly with a glamour on.  She was familiar with muggle post delivery, and he certainly wasn’t that either. 

“You can open it,” she looked at Raizel, more asking her to do it than suggesting it.  “While you do that: are you hungry? Would you like some tea?” she asked, hoping she’d be given a task to do, rather than actually have to face whatever it was. 

She figured her reticence was forgivable, given the experiences of the previous several months.  It seemed any surprises in her life skewed negatively and if this was some sort of message, she could only assume it was something bad.  The thought made her stomach churn.

Tea it was.  Raizel sighed and gave an impatient flutter of her hand -- but no matter how annoyed she might act, she was secretly glad to see her friend falling back into routine.  Akiva may have been through a lot in her life, but the cheerful witch was as reassuringly resilient as always.

"Tea is acceptable," she allowed, her eyes already back on the package.  Raizel reached for a corner, and then carefully began to tug the nearest edge of paper free.  It hadn't been sealed with magic, but with clear Muggle cellophane tape, so it took some doing to work her nails between it without tearing the wrapping.

It was a book.  An old one, with a string to hold the cover and pages together in place of a more modern binding.  The cover itself was made from brown leather, and the years had left it worn and faded.  Raizel frowned at it, only dimly aware of Akiva bustling with the tea behind her.  Carefully, she took hold of the corner of the cover and delicately opened to the first page.

Hebrew! The first page was filled with familiar lettering, the ink turned brown with age.  Raizel started, and would have dropped the book if she'd been holding it.  Quickly, she flipped to the next page, and then the next.  It was clearly the Hebrew aleph-bet, all written neatly in cursive script, but when she tried to read it, the words weren't --

"Akiva, I think this is in Yiddish," she announced excitedly.  Her eyes flicked up to find her friend.  "Look, it's -- I think it's a journal," she said, jabbing her finger at what was clearly a date.  No year, but... her heart was beating quickly as she flipped back through the pages.  How old could this gifted journal be?

Some tasks just didn’t require any thought to do.  Putting a kettle on was one of them.  The motions were so robotic, she could zone out in thought and look down five minutes later and the little pot would be sitting on the on the stove, heating over the fire.  This time was no exception. 

Even though she wasn’t watching Raizel with the package, she was thinking about what could be inside and what would happen when it was opened.  She wondered if it was more benevolent than it seemed – maybe there was nothing wrong with it.  She lit a flame under the kettle and turned back toward Raizel. 

When Raizel announced that the that it was something in Yiddish, Akiva’s ears picked up and she couldn’t help but feel the pull of curiosity.  Her grandmother had taught her Yiddish when she was a child; she’d used it writing her letters through adolescence.  She hoped she would remember enough to look through it.

Glancing at Raizel, she pursed her lips.  “Let me see,” she didn’t want to be rough with it – she knew the importance of handling old books – and indeed, it appeared old – with care, though, she noted, not as ancient as some of the books in the Ministry library.  She flipped the cover open after running her hands over the soft, brown leather, and scanned the pages.

The writing was neat – orderly – and indeed, in Yiddish.  It was a sort of shock to her eyes at first, adjusting to the text and frowned a little bit.  She didn’t catch every word (she’d definitely need a refresher course), but she got something that made her hands shake.  “Rai,” she looked at her with wide eyes, “I think,” she looked down at the text, written clear as ink, Isaac Katz, and mulled her jaw for a moment, “I know - this is my grandfather’s.” 

There were about a hundred things going on in her mind  - one of which was how the hell this happened, and who had found her – of all people – to give this too.  “I mean, I have to read it,” she added, “But his name is here...  This must be... I mean, he died during World War II - this has to be from before."

One question had been answered.  Why someone had come all this way to deliver a small package to Akiva -- ...if the journal really had belonged to her friend's grandfather, then at least its return made sense.  But why it had been brought here now...why the messenger had apparated away, rather than waiting to give an explanation...it was as if two new doors had opened, as soon as the first had been shut.

"Your grandfather?  But wasn't he a Muggle?"  Raizel craned her neck, trying to see the pages again.  Nothing about the book seemed magical, save for the fact that it had been delivered in a very magic fashion.  But why would a mage have gotten their hands on a Muggle journal?  Unless...

She chewed her lip, eyeing Akiva's expression cautiously.  "Do you think it has something to do with Dreogan?" she asked warily.  "A message?"  But even that didn't make sense.  "How could they even know about that?"

“He was,” Akiva answered with a definitive nod.  Her family had no wizarding blood in it – so it begged to question why something so mundane had been given to her in such a… secretive way.  If it wasn’t possessed with some kind of evil spirit or something, why was it brought to her in the way it was? Even more than that, what did it have to do with anything?

The only things they’d ever had of her grandfather were the things her grandmother had brought with her to England – some pictures, a couple of letters, nothing extensive.  Having an entire journal seemed… she didn’t even know.   

The mention of Dreogan in relation to the journal made a little pain shoot through Akiva’s heart.  If there was any connection between her grandfather and Dreogan, she didn’t want to imagine it.  Her grandfather hadn’t met an end that anyone would like to think about, and despite her better sense of logic, Akiva still held hope that her husband would be coming home.  It’d be an unfortunate repetitive family history if he didn’t…

Shaking her head, Akiva ran her thumbs over the cover of the book.  “I doubt they’re connected,” she practically whispered, afraid her voice might crack if she said anything louder than that.  “Maybe,” she chewed the inside of her lip for a moment before looking up, “maybe I just have to read it?” she both asked and asserted. 

Now that it seemed to be relatively harmless (except for perhaps the damaging content), it didn’t seem like she had much of a choice.  She certainly wouldn’t be showing it to her parents until she knew for sure what was contained within the aged pages.  “It’s possible it turned up by accident, right?” she shrugged – knowing it was a weak idea, considering.  “Or it’s an entirely separate issue,” she gnawed on her lip, opening the pages up again to the first page, the first date was in 1930, and she hurriedly flipped to the back, 1944 as the year on the last entry.  "It spans 14 years," she informed Raizel, closing the book and looking at it again.  What was this book and why now?