Wednesday, 3rd June, 1953

"Busy day for Muggles yesterday." Mortimer Gamp smoothed over his long brown hair, peering into the tiny mirror over the office sink on returning from nipping out above ground. He had tossed a Muggle newspaper onto the desk of his colleague, purchased on his way. The front page proclaimed the happy news of Queen Elizabeth II's coronation the day before. Inside it also announced the news that Muggles had finally scaled Mount Everest, which wasn't exactly news to wizards who had apparated up there and attempted to fly brooms up it in the past.

"They're all in high spirits, like Christmas has come early up there." He brushed a hand over his beard and glanced at the reflection of his colleague examining the newspaper.
"Your next subject is waiting next door." Came the straight response, as if Mortimer had not just explained huge events in the Muggle world. His colleague's face was unfathomably straight, as if the wizard were unable to show any expression at all.
"Very well." Mortimer gave a respectful nod and seized paperwork from his desk.

The door between office and the laboratory came open with a brush of his hand and locked shut behind Mortimer as he stepped through. The twenty-two year old unspeakable adopted a pleasant smile with the very little figure perched on his father's lap, swinging his feet. He had carefully combed curly red-brown hair, and wore smart grey shorts with a blue shirt. Mortimer found his ruddy little cheeks endearing.

"Mr Glass," Mortimer greeted politely, extending his hand to shake, "Mortimer Gamp." Mothers often brought their offspring, but Mortimer knew from the paperwork that Mrs Glass was a Muggle which made logistics down on Level Nine a little trickier.

Her husband reached to shake Mortimer's hand and his head tipped forward, as if he had fallen instantly asleep. His son twisted a little on his father's lap, thinking it must be a game. Mortimer crouched down, regarding the young boy on more of a level.

"And you must be little Eddie? Hello there Edwin." Mortimer reached out, long fingers tickling the two year old's stomach, meaning to be nice, but instead ended up with a swipe from a pudgy hand. "Like that are we?" Mortimer replied, scooping up the two-year old, ignoring the screams.

There was work to be done.