Two hours before sundown
Tel Aviv, Israel
14th of Nisan, 5772

The busy streets of Tel Aviv were starting to settle into their regular weekly slumber. A pair of electric scooters went racing by, their drivers revving their engines and shouting at each other to break the quiet that was falling over the streets.

Raizel gave them a bemused look as they went by. Shaking her head, she waited for a slow-moving car to pass in the opposite direction, and then carefully jogged across the street.

She missed the familiar patterns of home whenever she went abroad. Every Friday afternoon like clockwork, the city started to subside as everyone hurried home from work. The shuqs, markets, and bakeries were busy for maybe another hour after that as families grabbed the last few things they needed for supper. Then, as the sun set and Shabbat began, most of Tel Aviv seemed to relax for the night, comfortable in its shared tradition.

On this particular Friday, though, the markets had seemed especially busy as she made her way from her flat near Jaffa to her parents' home. Most of the Jewish-owned bakeries had long been closed and shuttered, out of respect for the week that was to come.

Her parents lived in a little block of white limestone houses set around a pretty garden. It was a small oasis amongst bustling Tel Aviv, built decades ago by a group of mage families that decided to make a shared home here and shielded from passing Muggle eyes. As Raizel lifted the latch on the gate to let herself in, she could hear the small fountain in the center of the garden burbling a familiar greeting, welcoming her back to the place that she and her siblings had called home for so long.

It was getting closer to sundown now, and it was clear that some of the families who lived in the other houses off the garden had already begun to gather for the holiday. Cheerful, faint chatter filled the air as Raizel made her way to her parents' door. Biting her lip, she tucked her right hand behind her back and raised her left hand nervously to knock.

Every year, she came home for Pesach, and every year, it was the same.

The door opened a moment later.

"Raizel!" Her mother's warm face greeted her, and a moment later, she was engulfed in a hug.

"Ima!" Raizel scolded, but she was laughing. She hugged her mother back, barely managing to get a finger on the mezuzah before she was hurried inside.

"You're late. Eszter and Josie are already here; everyone else should be here soon." Somehow, Lea Cohen had the undeniable ability to hug her daughter, usher her inside, and start scolding her in Hebrew all at once. She did so now, giving Raizel a stern look as she closed the door behind her. "Are you hungry? You should eat now if you want something before the seder. Eszter's in the kitchen," she urged her daughter, steering her through the living room to the aforementioned door. "I have to help your father summon a few more chairs, but you can set the table once we're ready."

Raizel laughed again, holding her hands up in mock defeat as she allowed herself to be guided through the house. There were some storms that even she wasn't willing to fight.

"Yes, ima," she said obediently, heading for her pre-ordained destination.

The smell of roasting lamb was already wafting through her mother's kitchen. The counters were lined with yellow tile, and ceramic plates covered in cheery blue and red flowers hung on the wall, lending a cheerful atmosphere to the already sunny room.

It was clear that her mother had already been busy. Along with the roasting lamb, all of the accoutrements for the night's seder were set out on the counters, ready to be shifted onto plates and brought out to the main table. The rest of dinner was at various levels of preparedness: a large pot of something was gurgling happily on the stove, as its neighbor was stirred incessantly by a very enthusiastic wooden spoon.

Two familiar faces leaned against back counter near the oven, their heads bent conspiratorially towards each other. They both jumped as Raizel entered, tucking glasses back out of sight.

Raizel shot them a discerning look. "Into the wine already?" she asked them nicely in English, as she surveyed the collection of food.

The shorter of the two women -- who shared Raizel's blonde hair and dark brown eyes -- gave a long-suffering grimace. "No, Dodah Miriam is coming," she replied, wrinkling her nose at Raizel. "Ima only bought Manischewitz for the seder."

The other inhabitant of the kitchen stood several inches taller than Raizel, with long black hair worn in tiny, tightly woven braids. She broke into an enormous grin, white teeth flashing, as she set her glass down and strode across the kitchen to embrace the younger mage in a hug.

"We picked up some arak at the market after we 'ported in," she said covertly, giving Raizel a wink. Her English was smooth and even, with a rolling rhythm that hinted at her place of birth. "Maybe we'll let you join us, as long as you don't tell your mother."

Raizel flashed a fierce smile back at her. She and her older sister Eszter had never really gotten along: Eszter had always been the smart one, the talented one, who shone above all others at Beit Gaddol and hadn't really slowed down since. After their brother Benny had died under mysterious circumstances, things had been even more tense between the two sisters for a while. But even during the worst of the siblings' estrangement, she had always liked Josiane Ruteneshwa, her sister's longtime girlfriend and now wife who worked alongside her in Brussels.

"Well, Ima did say to have something before the seder," she said cunningly, looking around for another glass.

Josiane laughed and gamely poured her a drink.

Before long, Raizel too was sipping on arak, lounging against the countertops with her sister and her partner.

"So Yosef and Miriam are coming?" she asked, breaking a corner of matzah off as a snack. "Elias and Betje too?"

Eszter gave a quiet chuckle, tilting her head to the side. "And David and Rivkah, with all their little ones," she said, raising an eyebrow at her sister. "It's Bubbeh's ninetieth birthday. The whole family will be here."

Raizel let out a soundless whistle. In the old days, when they'd all been young, it hadn't been all that uncommon for their entire extended family to get together for the High Holidays: their parents, their father's brother Yosef and his family, their mother's sister and husband and children. But as the years had passed -- as she and Eszter and Benny, and their cousins David and Aviad had all graduated from Beit Gaddol and subsequently split off into their own lives -- the entire family had come together much less frequently.  The last time that she'd seen everyone had been at Benny's funeral.

"No wonder Ima is so worked up," she said, and then tossed back the rest of her arak.

"I heard that!" her mother's voice announced loudly in Hebrew as the kitchen door swung open. She entered with purpose, immediately bustling over check on the pots that were simmering on the stove. "You think I don't know English, but I do! I've been practicing for Josie," she added, still in Hebrew, flashing a fond smile in the tall witch's direction.

Raizel and Eszter exchanged a look behind their mother's back.  With difficulty, both sisters stifled a laugh.

The moment of shared camaraderie didn't last long, though. Ever the good child, Eszter neatly tucked her glass of arak out of sight behind a large ceramic jar and pushed herself up.

"Ima, how can we help?" she asked in Hebrew, following their mother to the stove.

Lea Cohen gave her eldest daughter a long-suffering look as she sighed and wiped at her brow. "I've got to get all these warming spells set before it's time to start," she said, a little dramatically. "Will you set up the seder plates? And Raizel, set the table," she added assertively, waving her hand at her middle child to shoo her away. "Hurry, they'll be here soon!"

Raizel, rolling her eyes, obediently picked up a stack of plates and started for the main dining room. Some duties were impossible to escape.

The dining room was already set up for a crowd. The long, polished cedar table had been magically extended, so that now it ran close to the length of the room. A lacy white tablecloth was draped over it, with each corner tucked perfectly in place. Someone had also arranged fifteen wooden chairs around it, many of them clones of an oak chair with a slightly stained cushion that she recognized from her father's workroom.

Raizel regarded it ruefully, blowing a sigh upwards at her non-existent bangs, and then began the task of working her way around the table, laying a plate in front of each chair.

Josiane had followed her out from the kitchen. A basket of cutlery and napkins dangled from one of the Rwandan witch's arms, and a parade of floating wine glasses trailed behind her. Raizel flashed her an appreciative smile as she began to follow in her wake, placing a napkin and a set of silverware at each plate as the blonde mage set it down.

"I did not realize that your family kept Shabbat," Josiane remarked, giving her a curious look as they got to work.  "Is your mother worried about it because of Passover?"

Raizel blinked, and then glanced back at her, one eyebrow quirked. Even though her sister's now-wife didn't speak much Hebrew, she'd learned plenty about the family's customs from Eszter.

"It is not Passover, so much," she replied, setting down another plate. To her left, another wine glass settled into place: it would get plenty of use tonight. Normally, her parents wouldn't care about magic after sundown; like so many Israeli mages, the Cohen family was secular and didn't worry about keeping mitzvot like avoiding work or refraining from casting spells during Shabbat. "Aunt Miriam and Uncle Yosef are Shomer Shabbat, so Ima tries to be observant when they come to join us."

Josiane gave her an appreciative smile, setting down another knife and spoon with care.

"That makes sense. I am excited to meet the rest of your family!" she added cheerfully, moving on to the next place setting. "I know David and Rivkah and your grandmother, but I don't think I've met Miriam or Yosef or their son, or David's parents."

Raizel allowed a long-suffering sigh, her eyelids fluttering. She didn't mind the Guttmans -- her cousin David, his wife and children, and his parents -- but the rest of the Cohen family was a bit more trying on her patience.

"We will see if you still feel that way after four glasses of wine," she replied dryly. She was nearly out of plates, so as she set down the last pair, she looped around to follow behind Josiane, adjusting the wine glasses to make sure they were properly aligned with the rest of the place setting. "It will just be Miriam and Yosef, though. I don't think Aviad's ever come home for a holiday."

From the other room, the sound of the magical doorbell sounded. There was a great explosion of excited voices, as her mother presumably flung opened the door to greet the next set of arrivals.  Sighing, Raizel exchanged a remorseful glance with Josiane.

"I hope you have been practicing your Hebrew," she told her ruefully. "At least the seder is easy to follow along."

The sound of eager chatter was still coming from the main room, even if the words were mostly unintelligible through the wall. Raizel could pick out her mother's voice, her Aunt Miriam's response, layering over each other in enthusiastic exchange.

Suddenly, the door to the next room was flung open and her father came storming through, looking harried.

"Kisayot, kısayot, kısayot," Binyamin Cohen muttered,[1] running a hand through his graying hair.

It took him only half a beat to spot her.

"Raizle!" her father exclaimed, hurrying over to give her a hug.

Raizel hugged him in return, smiling, and leaned up to kiss his cheek. For all of her mother's nervous energy, she adored her father and his usually-patient temperament.

"It is good to see you, Aba," she said in Hebrew, stepping back again. "What is the problem with chairs?"

Her father made a show of heaving a long-suffering sigh, shaking his head at her as he pulled out his wand. "Oh, your Ima was only expecting fifteen," he replied dryly. "Yosef and Miriam brought their roustabout son along, so now we must scramble for an extra place."

Raizel blinked, surprised. She hadn't seen her cousin Aviad since -- well, really she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Aviad, who hadn't even come to Benny's funeral. As far as she knew, his life took him even farther afield than hers did, although neither of his parents ever seemed very willing to talk about what he did.

Her father had already begun to examine the chairs around the table, obviously searching for the one that had been the original template for his duplication spell. "Go, go, Raizle," he urged her, jerking his head towards the door.  "I will take care of all this. Take Josie with you too; she is a guest, she shouldn't be working."

Arching an eyebrow, Raizel sighed, and then looked back at Josiane. The other witch was peering at her curiously, obviously lost through most of the exchange.

"Come," Raizel invited her, giving her a dry smile as she turned back towards the door. "You have been banned from helping, and it sounds as though you will get to meet everyone after all."

1.	Chairs, chairs, chairs.