Friday, 29th July 1966

"Germany's gonna winnnnn. We never win anythiiiiin." Eldest child protested to second eldest. The two boys scrabbled at each other with dirty hands, their shoes with holes in the soles slid and squeaked on the floor with the effort. Their parents did nothing to stop them mucking about, mother clutching a crying baby in a bundle in her arms over the start of a pregnant belly.

The two brothers were arguing over the potential outcome of the Football World Cup the next day. Although Mortimer did not follow it, he did read Muggle newspapers which informed him England were due to play West Germany in the finals at Wembley Stadium. He wondered how the children were interested in it, since he was sure the family did not own the Muggle contraption called a television.

The family in the Level 9 room with him were Godric Hollow neighbours of sorts, the ragamuffin Shufflebottoms were eager subjects for financial gain. Precisely the sorts of candidates that the Department of Mysteries liked to employ. Less likely to argue, rather co-operative, and increasingly forgetful what with all the obliviation.

"So how long's it gunna ta'?" Shufflebottom senior asked. His pipe stuck out the corner of his mouth through his thick ginger beard. A good tuft was singed off at the bottom, but he had not thought to cut it straight.

"An hour, maybe more. Make yourself comfortable next door. They're in safe hands." The witch before them spoke in a gentle tone, firm enough to command parents out of the room. With a few choice words and a clip round the ear, two of the children were left in the room while their parents took the baby out with them to the next door room.

"Which do you want to start with?" His assistant asked.
"The younger. William."
"Very good. Here we are boys, choose yourselves a lolly from the jar while you wait." Eager hands dipped into the jar Lyra offered. Hungry mouths received sugary goods in seconds and out they went like lights. Mortimer and Lyra did not engage in crowd control. Children were seen but not heard, and if either of them were to marry they would raise their own far better than the awful Shufflebottoms.

"Parents say he's survived a fall on his head from the family horse." Lyra recounted from the paperwork while Mortimer's wand conveyed the three and a half year old boy from the heap on the floor to an examination table.
"I'm not sure a fall on the head will make much difference to a Shufflebottom." He replied without any visible sign of humour on his features, but steeled himself to examine the boy's grubby head with his fingertips for signs of injury.

Some time later, Lyra interrupted the long working silence.
"We need to target a few more talented families." The area around the child was soon strewn with all manner of odd items, symbols. Mortimer was keenly examining a sample of blood against the strange light from his wand, frowning. "Higher probability we'll catch the juvenile magic markers."
"If you can persuade them." Mortimer replied distantly, sounding dismayed. Lyra looked round.
"What is it?"
"It's just a pity." Mortimer sighed, "See this, he reads higher magical potential than his brother, but chances are he'll be just as poorly educated as his parents." Lyra peered over Mortimer's shoulder, close enough for him to smell her perfume. He closed his eyes a moment, unable to stop himself from enjoying the little thrill he felt from her close proximity. At thirty-five he was on the hunt for a suitable wife, and Lyra had quickly found herself a niche in Mortimer's interests, although he hadn't told her.

"Does make me so frustrated." She nodded, "William could be a very capable wizard if only he grew up in the right environment."
"Perhaps he still may be." Mortimer replied thoughtfully, "Environment isn't everything."
"Gamp, you have seen inside his brother's head." Lyra gestured to the other brother fast asleep. "He will be lucky if he makes it to Hogwarts. I swear the Shufflebottoms are only having all these children to increase the probability some will reach adult age."
"Or they are attempting a football team." Mortimer suggested, but received a very blank look from his assistant. "Er, Merlin help everyone if they all do then." He hastily changed his response.

"I want to look into his head. Are you about done? No lice this time?"
"Goodness, don't remind me." Lyra shuddered. "The great unwashed Shufflebottoms. I would never let my children get that way."
"I should hope not." Mortimer replied, settling down at the head of the examination table, wand in hand. "Legilimens."