Northern Shropshire, the West Midlands, England

Nestled among the wide fields and sprawling woods of the Cheshire Plain, Adderley Village could be easily overlooked by those traveling between Audlem and Market Drayton. Though the red-bricked primary school and centuries-old church remained, most other local landmarks had been torn down or domolished in the last few decades, leaving the village as mostly a collection of modest family homes divided from one another by the occasional stretch of ivy-cloaked trees. It was too small and too remote for a train station, but it did have a bus stop and, more importantly, it was en-route for the occasional visit from the Knight Bus.

Unseen by local muggles, the violet triple-decker screeched into existence on the outskirts of the Nethermost Woods. It breaked a few feet from the door of an old stone mill, coming close enough to rattle the wooden sign that advertised the building's more recent role as a bookshop. The doors opened, producing Alvis Norling, who stumbled unsteadily onto solid ground with a duffle bag slung over one shoulder.

"Ugh...thanks for the ride, mate."

Alvis dropped the duffle on his front stoop and rolled a crick from his neck. The ride from London took barely an hour, but it felt a lot longer when you were holding onto a rolling office chair for dear life. The Knight Bus deposited its second passenger behind him, then groaned like all of its gears were stripped and sped off into the afternoon.

Adjusting his glasses, Alvis turned to give his traveling companion an apologetic grin. "Sorry about that, Casey. I would've warned you if I knew Mum's car was going to be in the shop. At least we didn't have to take the Wellington train."

There were advantages to elf aided side along apparition. Mainly that a violent swerve of long distance teleportation only happened once.

Deciding to spend the first part of spring holidays away from home was surprisingly simple. With no major plans or functions requiring attendance at the start of the week it didn't matter to Casey's family who he was spending holiday with provided some hint of magic was in them. And Norlings, while not of any noted caliber, were fine craftsmen and that was something the very rich like the O'Dohertys' could appreciate.

Yes, specifically fine craftsmen, as Casey remembered as something to concentrate on while overcoming feelings of wooziness left from the Knight Bus. There were horror stories about the contraption from those that didn't use it and they were true. It was an unfortunate extension to their trip and Casey had spent most of it with eyes shut as the bus popped about the country.

"No, it's fine," Casey said, coming to sit on his trunk. There were times to complain and times when complaining was beneath him, this being the latter. "I'll just sit here for a minute."

He squinted up at the building, putting the exterior of the 'old mill' of Adderley to what Alvis had told him about the place. He contemplated whether to summon Dingy now to get the elf used to the place and perhaps fetch a restorative. Or if he should just bring his trunk in with some levitation, school rules be damned. The place was considered a magical dwelling, was it not, and thus enough to cover errants to the Trace.

But Casey didn't have the energy for any action at this point, continuing to sit.

Alvis chuckled, feeling about as exhausted as Casey sounded, but thankfully much less sick. Still, even the rough ride hadn't put a damper on his high spirits. This was the first time in ages that he'd had a friend come to visit, and he intended to enjoy it, whatever discomfort it took to manage. "Take your time. I'll call on up."

He dumped his bag -- which contained mostly books, since he left most casual clothes at home -- on the corner of the front stoop and pushed open the door. A bell sounded, announcing the arrival of a potential customer. Inside, the windows were all uncovered, lighting the many shelves, cozy chairs, and polished store counter within. An open passage in the back led to the main store and the start of 'the maze,' where the many shelves quickly turned navigation into a chore.

Cupping a hand around his mouth, Alvis projected his voice into all corners of the store. "Mum! Da! We're home." He doubted that his father would hear -- since Orville Norling was usually in the basement at this time of day -- but in moments they heard footsteps from the second floor. Alvis smiled and wandered back to where Casey was sitting. "That'd be Mum. She'll be down in a minute."

True to his word, a woman in her in early forties soon appeared at the door. Ariadne Norling shared her son's dishwater hair and scattered freckles, though both had faded with age. She wore a wide smile and a blue apron embroidered with the store's mascot, an owl sitting on a stack of books. No sooner had she seen her son than she descended on him, pulling the bespectacled teen into a hug.

"Welcome home, sweetie." She squeeze her son tight as her thin arms could manage and made sure to muss his hair before letting him go. Then she rounded on their visitor and her smile grew even wider. "And you must be Casey! It's so good to meet you, dear."

"Uh, Mum..."

Alvis's warning came too late. Before he could stop her, his mother wrapped Casey in a tight hug, embracing the smaller boy as though he were her own child.

Musings and plans for this vacation were soon put on hold as Casey was distracted from watching Alvis in his familial domestic habitat. From jargon to shared appearance with mother and sun, the ease of Alvis around what he called home, all scrutinized by the peer on his trunk wondering where to classify these observations.

Obvious? From what Casey had pegged of the Norling family? Bemusement? For the entertaining factor of what could be labeled 'quaint and undeniably British.' Jealousy? Hardly.

For all the time that an outsider's perspective could be had as Casey was noticed by Alvis' mother. Ariadne, wasn't it? But before he could respectfully stand Casey found himself lifted up into an embrace from the motherly witch. Arms trapped to his sides, an expression of shocked surprise that lingered, not really focused on anything.

And leaking out from an Occlumency structure of the mind, Casey's new way of organizing memories, a familiar sensation...

Yet not. This wasn't his own mother. This wasn't a vulnerable time of restitching a broken family dynamic. It was the second time in recent memory Casey was hugged so specifically yet the circumstances made it rather awkward.

"Um," Casey was otherwise quick and direct with his words, rare to use verbal nonsense for pauses. "If you could please, Mrs. Norling..."

Two or so years ago, it would have been stated in a bratty and snobbish fashion. Not so currently, from a differently tempered Casey that was trying to use a polite air to mask as much of the confusion as possible.

Well...this was awkward.

Alvis hung back, watching the exchange between his friend and mother with a mix of fascination and the urge to laugh out loud. What a rare treat, to see the great Casey O'Doherty so disarmed. He'd gone so stiff Ariadne might as well be holding a mannequin.

After a minute of watching Casey struggle, Alvis cleared his throat. "Uh, Mum? ...Mummy." He shook the woman's shoulder to get her attention. "Casey's not much of a hugger. Think you could let go?"

"Ah, of course dear. What was I thinking?" Sounding mostly unapologetic, Ariadne released their visitor. She stepped back and smoothed out her apron, looking pleased with the whole exchange. Knowing his mother, Alvis bet that she'd probably planned the whole thing from the moment she'd read his last letter home. Seeing Casey on his trunk, looking sick and pathetic, had only enhanced the maternal instinct. Typical really.

"My, but we are going to have a time getting that up to the attic..." Ariadne went on, looking to Casey's trunk. "Alvis, could you run down to the basement and get your father? I'm sure he'd be able to help."

"Oh. Yeah, sure..." Alvis nodded, but hesitated. Some deep-seated instinct of  the teenage boy resisted the suggestion of leaving a friend alone with his mother. He half-expected that he'd return to find them enjoying an album of embarrassing baby pictures produced from the pocket of her apron.

Freed from the embrace and trying to rediscover a proper center of gravity (and an awkward edge of unfamiliar body posture and intimate closeness also plaguing the mind) it was with great gratitude that conversation turned instead to luggage logistics. Which calmed Casey immensely whilst fixing the disturbed sleeves and collar of his clothes.

"It wouldn't be an issue, Mrs. Norling," Casey said. His own trunk driving wand skills were up to par but Casey liked having a variety of options. Especially one that only required a direct order (and more recently, a location freed from scrutinizing castle staff). "Dingy, follow along with the trunk."

*DING!* - followed by a thud and several jangling sounds, which was from the appearing house elf hitting the back of the trunk.

To his abject yet subdued irritation Casey realized just what kind of 'occupation' the house elf had been involved in prior. Dingy was rising from the ground, pot obscuring his eyes, sullied by things like ash and thrown tomatoes. Around the pot handle were several hoop-like objects including the handle of an urn pertaining to a O'Doherty ancestor whose ashes were the only literal remains, as he was bested during a rather fierce duel. And a globule of something that suggested tar or window pitch.

The aftermath of Casey's cousins no doubt having a high scoring game of throwing things at the house elves. The sucking sound of air filling the vacuum followed Dingy pushing the pot off his head.

"Dingy is most thankful for Master Casey--"

"Yes yes," Casey interrupted with a grimace, "just manage the trunk." He recognized the elf's tone before it would launch into the zeal of affirmation about his duties saved for the instances where Dingy was doubly thankful (as all house elves were thankful for work) for instruction from Casey that pulled him situations like the dodging of stuff bounced off his helmet by the family, as Dingy could not actually say anything negative against them.

Sometimes the awkwardness of meeting the full family of friends stemmed from things like worrying about the shame associated with sudden procurement of baby pictures or the embarrassing condition of one's house elf. Clearly a universal bane to the teenage population.

Alvis knew what was coming the moment Dingy burst into existence. He stiffened in anticipation, unconsciously mirroring his mother, who'd gone rigid with shock. It quickly turned to fear as she stared at the house-elf, wild-eyed.

She shrieked. "B-Bat! It's a bat!"

"No. Mum, no!" Alvis quickly stepped between Dingy and the shopkeeper, trying to keep himself between them while also angling his body to hide Dingy from the road. "It's okay. It's okay. He's not a bat. His name is Dingy, he's a house-elf, he works for Casey's family. He's kind of like, ah, a butler? It's a magic thing, Mum. It's okay."

"I...I see..." His mother's lip trembled, instinctive disbelief struggling with a lifetime of watching her husband and child do impossible things. She took a shuddering breath and folded her hands tight against her chest, as though she were winding up the urge to scream and tucking it safely away. "Why is he wearing a pot? And a potato sack? A butler, a servant...he aught to have proper clothes."

"No, Mother. Just...no." Alvis forced a smile, his eyes darting first to the road, then to the shop. It didn't look like they currently had customers, but you never knew when one could come along...he took his mother's hand and patted it gently. "I'll explain later, I promise. Why don't you go on inside -- tell Dad we made it? We'll get the trunk up from here, don't worry."

Ariadne looked doubtful, but eventually took her son's word, mussing his hair affectionately as she retreated into the shop. Alvis kept smiling until she'd closed the door, then deflated with a tired sigh.

"Casey..." He turned to the guest, weary with an explanation he hadn't thought he needed. "You've got to be careful with magic around here. This is muggle territory, you'll get us in trouble. And Dingy..."

Here, Alvis crouched to address the house-elf directly, his voice becoming more soft, the way it often did when he spoke to the easily-rattled elf.

 "As long as Casey's here, you need to be careful how and when you turn up, all right? My mother's a muggle and her father doesn't know about my dad and me. If he came 'round here and saw you, we'd get in a lot of trouble with the Ministry. So you need to try to keep out of sight. Okay?"