They'd said the kiddush, washed their hands.  The youngest in the room was still too little to ask the four questions, but they'd made do with Raizel subbing in her best Gabriel impression.  No matter what country you were in, whether you spoke only Hebrew or used it only for the prayers, the Pesach seder had a soothing, familiar rhythm to it that she liked.

It seemed a sad little group from what it could have been:  her and Akiva and the Katzes, come together for her second seder of the night.  Pesach was one of the few times of year when Raizel deigned to pay a visit to her family, and it had taken some apparitional tricks to make it to and from Tel Aviv in only one night.  That had been a sad group as well.  Both of her parents were still alive, and her grandmother, but none of their aunts or uncles had joined them this year, and even with Eszter home from Brussels, they'd felt their brother Benny's absence at the table all too cleanly.  It hadn't pained her at all to leave early.

But that was then, and this was later.  However small the group around the table might be, Akiva's food was certainly not lacking.  Raizel's stomach had been near rumbling for most of the seder.  Now that they'd made it to the actual meal, Raizel dug into her dinner with relish, glad to leave the business of salt water and bitter herbs behind.

Her mouth was full when Mr Katz offered to refill her glass of wine.  Raizel simply nodded her appreciation, perhaps with a little too much relish.  Her double docket for the evening had required twice as much in ceremonial trappings, and even though it was too sweet to really be considered good, all of the alcohol felt as though it might be starting to go to her head.

Even as she'd swallowed, she'd begun to attack her chicken again.  "This is very good," she informed Akiva, raising her fork to take another bite.  Chew, swallow, attack with fork and knife.  She deserved it, after all the time she'd spent earlier the day before helping Akiva search the house for chametz.  "Why did you become a librarian and not a cook?  You could have made much more money that way, I think."

Preparing for the Seder was simultaneously one of the most grounding experiences Akiva had in recent months and also the most depressing.  Raizel had been more than a help but preparing the house beforehand, and then Akiva had all day to cook.

She imagined the whole thing a little differently in her head.  She imagined it would be a bigger crowd, notably her husband and his family, but that had whittled down significantly.  Adon and Hestia were in Israel, and though Akiva corresponded regularly with her it wasn't the same.  At least her parents were present, and Raizel had come, which was very nice, especially considering all the travelling she had to do. 

Cooking was a nice distraction from her guest concerns, however.  No matter what she felt, she could always feel better in the kitchen: her now perfectly clean space for the preparation.  She'd gone about it with gusto, her mother helping and her father mostly tending to Gabriel, suggesting that they'd have some 'man time,' which however well meaning it was made Akiva have to take a fifteen minute break in the bathroom for, only reemerging with puffy eyes and a sniffle because the oven was going off and she had chicken to tend to. 

More routine followed.  Even though Akiva's family was not particularly religious, a Seder had always been a yearly ritual that marked familiarity in her life.  Years she missed it because she was at Hogwarts had always been the worst, but it never went unnoticed - meals at Hogwarts were even altered for dietary restrictions that was needed during the time.  So, it went off without much fanfare, including Raizel's downright funny delivery of the four questions. 

When the meal started, everyone seemed to be digging in with gusto, and Akiva beamed at Raizel's compliment.  "Thanks, Raizel," she laughed, gently waving her fork in dismissal, "I fell into library work more than anything," she shrugged, her career path had started at Flourish & Blott's and spiraled from there - connections with Hogwarts and Madame Pince fondly remembered and cherished, even when she hadn't gotten all the way through. 

Her father decided it was time to chime in, however, and leaned his elbows on the table after he put down the wine he'd offered to Raizel.  "You know, we always thought she'd follow in my footsteps," he grinned, "Always had a penchant for numbers - and academics.  Even when she went to King's, picked it up without a second thought..."

Akiva cut him off with a laugh, "Dad - no one wants to hear that..." she looked at Raizel with a baleful expression.  "He exaggerates." 

"Nonsense!" Isaac broke in with a grin.  "It runs in the family you know, my mother - Akiva's Grandmother always said," he suddenly switched to his mother's Yiddish (in a poor impression of her voice no less) without a second thought, "even if my husband was a grocer, he had a head for numbers you'd never believe!" To which he laughed, and Gabriel burbled, slapping his hands together. 

Akiva sighed, though with a tiny smile: family.

Even though she'd been raised mostly Muggle, there were still times when Muggle parlance did nothing but confuse her.  "Which king?" Raizel asked, puzzled, as she looked from father to daughter.  Didn't this country have a queen?  But the conversation had moved on, and it hardly mattered; whatever king Akiva had visited, apparently his love for numbers had not rubbed off on the witch.

It didn't even phase her as it switched to Yiddish, a language that she barely understood.  Raizel threw back her head and laughed along with Mr Katz and Gabriel, finishing by shooting a wicked grin at Akiva.

"Of course we want to hear that," she said devilishly.  "Isn't that what nights like tonight are for?  Sharing stories?"  It didn't even matter that this particular story did not promise to be very interesting.  Surrounded by friends in a warm room with good food in front of her, Raizel would have happily sat through a third retelling of the Exodus.  The Katz family's historical love for numbers seemed riveting in comparison.

But still...Raizel mulled the idea over, thoughtfully sipping at her wine.  "Is that the same Grandmother who was married to your Grandfather?" she asked.  A beat later, she realized the circuitousness of her question and blanched.  "I mean the one who... you know."  She gave Akiva a pointed look.   They hadn't spoken much about the diary[1] that had mysteriously appeared on Akiva's doorstep that day, but Raizel at least hadn't forgotten about it.

1.	Unexpectedly Late Post

Apparently Raizel hadn’t heard of King’s College, and that was enough to make Isaac Katz practically double over in laughter while mother and daughter exchanged a generous eye roll on his behalf.  “King’s College,” Akiva informed her.  “I studied there after I had to leave Hogwarts,” it had dulled from a sore spot to a reality at this point and she could talk about it without feeling badly.  Of course that was replaced now by other tender points that were still excruciating at the slightest prod.

She pushed those feelings down though because they were getting into dangerous territory: Akiva had not always been put together, and she certainly wasn’t an adjusted adolescent.  She’d always been smart and kind, but she had learned very late in life how to take care of one’s hair and make-up and put together an outfit that wasn’t a uniform… it was all really embarrassing. 

Her father was going to launch into it, she could see it on his face and Raizel’s question was at least a break – perhaps to distract her dad from what he was going to say and almost instantly she could practically see her nightstand drawer where the journal that had been dropped off in such a mysterious manner. 

She’d been reading it, but it was slow going, painstaking really.  She didn’t tell her parents about the issue, not until she read the whole thing and understood it.  She hadn’t realized how rusty she was until she started trying, and now she was pretty much rewriting pages down in a little notebook she’d had around on a bookshelf. “Yes,” Akiva nodded to her, “That’s the one.” 


There were some odd things in there, things she meant to tell Raizel about, but hadn’t gotten the chance.  Maybe later, after her parents left and Gabriel was asleep.  But for now, they were at the table and it was time for stories.  “You know,” Akiva smiled, “I’d rather have Raizel tell a story,” she smiled, “we can dwell on my own awkward math nerd stage later.  Didn’t you have a penchant for fire as a kid, Rai?”  the grin was by no means apologetic. 

And her parents seemed to agree, turning their eyes to Raizel.  Crisis Averted.