Late in the morning
At the clippers' dock of the River Thames, across from Westminster Pier.


How strange, to apparate to London all on their own!

Feliks was not even a week out of Hogwarts but already keen on the life that lay before them. In the past he had come to the great city mostly by floo - those summer months when neither of his fathers were yet off work for their annual travels. Today he was here to visit Grin Hyde, a classmate who had left Hogwarts last year.

The wix looked out across the river, how it glistened under a clear sky. The air was what others might consider chilly, though not Feliks himself.

He searched his pockets and drew out a piece of parchment with Grin's handwriting scribbled across. She was living in a boat these days! Feliks was curious about that, even if it was tricky for them to meet.

Like Feliks, Grin had been a common sight at Sylvain's cabin and they used to help out with creatures even outside of lessons. He wanted to tell her all about his upcoming trip to the states, to see a great Andean dragon. Not so much to brag - oh, maybe a little - but he hoped it might make working at the Ministry attractive to her.

Wandering the dock, where some other narrow boats were moored, he kept his eyes peeled for a boat matching her description. Peregrine said there was grass growing on its roof....

Feliks' searching scowl broke into a grin and he picked up the pace, waving at the familiar figure onboard.

"Ahoy ahoy!" he called out in his best impression of Balfour's Scottish brogue, which he liked to use when he was being silly. "Permission to come aboard, Captain?"

As beautifully romantic and novel as the idea of liveaboard life had been, Grin would never have been able to make it work as a Muggle. Many parts of it provided a unique challenge she'd readily latched onto, but the just as many technical details that needed minding were enough to glaze her eyes over in under 60 seconds. 27 seconds, if she were being honest. Were it not for the fact that the Muggle boat seller guy was skeptical of her ability to cope, Grin might have given up on the entire idea. Granted, if she had to do it the Muggle way, he'd have been spot-on, but that wasn't the point.

What was the point?

Oh! Magic. They had magic, she and her dad, and he was gracious enough to assist her in adapting it to Grin's needs. For as much as he hadn't liked the idea of her setting out on her own, Dad had nonetheless seen to it Grin had the Jester's Privilege set up to her liking. It was a relief not to have to perform all the alterations on her own:  though skilled in the practical subjects of Transfiguration and Charms enough to handle more basic stuff like raising the interior's ceiling a bit or transfiguring the electric lights into bluebell flames, her father had developed a great deal more expertise when it came to extension charms and ideas on what to do with the rest of the Muggle tech she wouldn't need. It had certainly eliminated a lot of trouble for her over the last year. Who needed a loud engine or stops for petrol and water, if she had a wand?

If only finding a good mooring spot were so simple. Sometimes it really was easy, but other times and places... like London this time of year, for example... competition among other narrowboats for mooring was more challenging. She'd really hoped not to have to use magic for that (it felt unfair and un-neighbourly), but that meant getting properly situated took a lot longer than Grin would have liked.

But! Now the boat was tied in place and she could change her clothes and relax again. The temperature was fantastically refreshing, and it was high time for tea on her lawn.

Grin had just started pouring her second cup when a familiar voice stopped her in her tracts. Looking around, her eyes lit. "Feliks! You made - ow, hot!" Belatedly, she remembered to stop pouring. Setting the offending teapot on the grass, she stood and saluted dramatically. "Permission granted!" She hopped down once he was aboard and hugged him with an excited squeak. "It's been forever!"

Grin didn't look like a boat captain - she looked, if anything, like she was living in a cottage somewhere remote and peaceful. A singular piece of quaintness on the Thames, in the middle of a metropolitan city.

He laughed as they hugged, lanky arms coming around her.

"It felt like forever!" Feliks agreed before letting go to look around him at her narrowboat. "You really do live here. It's very you Grin. I did not know what to expect but I think I like it."

His only homes had been the cottage, Hogwarts, and the manor in Edinburgh. Peregrine's was novel. He liked that she could take it with her wherever she went.

"Ah!" he took out his coin pouch, which was of course much bigger on the inside. "I brought you biscuits. For your tea. Khvorost!"

Feliks brought out a paper bag of the crisp pastry[1] biscuits and handed it to her cheerfully. One of the things that hadn't changed about him over the years was his appetite.

"You must tell me what you are doing now," the wix continued, willing their curls to be a little shorter so that the wind wasn't blowing them every which way. "In this new life. And then I also have news!"

1.	Angel Wings

Merlin, was it really a year since they were face to face? Grin pulled back, surveying her home as Feliks did as though to remind herself what it looked like. She grinned, "Thanks, me too. Well, except I do want to replace the sod and try again with something lower maintenance:  strangely, it didn't occur to me at the time how high grass grows, or how quickly paths get worn. I'm thinking to try clover, chamomile, maybe forget-me-nots." Probably forget-me-nots. Grin did have a thing for them, as was evidenced by the many motifs she'd painted in and outside her boat.

Feliks' sudden exclamation drew Grin back from her rambling. Blue eyes lit as he withdrew the sweet-scented bag.  "Thank you, Feliks! These smell fantastic!" She did love a good tea biscuit. It had long amused Grin that, in addition to the love of animals and a general affability, the two of them also had a tendency to snack.

She watched with admiration, not for the first time, as Feliks subtly altered his appearance at will (what a pity metamorphmagus wasn't something people could learn if they studied hard enough). "Wandering mostly," she began. "Ooh, tell me! First, though, are you hungry? I have your preference in the teapot up top on the lawn. Although, I need to fetch the sandwiches from the galley. Do you want to go up and wait, or follow me down?"

Feliks nodded distractedly as she talked about growing something else on her boat, his eyes already shifting from witch to grass as he considered the practicalities. His room in the manor was littered by pottered plants and he had a particular weakness for creepers.

"I'll go up," he replied to her offer. "You can give me the tour after, please?"

It would be better if they could take their time looking around and he did not want to rush Grin. Feliks got to the grassy roof with a light step, peering about at all the other narrowboats harboured on the Thames. Up here they would not dare alter their appearance, where a muggle might see them.

So distracted was he by this thought - talk of Futurists and the Statute was common at home - that he nearly stubbed his foot against a roof vent.

Feliks glanced down at it and fell into a crouch, grinning. The vents were painted to look like mushrooms! Peregrine had really thought of everything.

"Okay, I must admit," he announced when she joined him up top. "I am jealous. This is all very nice, Grin. You take it everywhere you wander? Like a home in your pocket."

His desire to travel was strong but it competed with Feliks' affection for his family. He still treasured being part of one and still feared losing that sense of belonging.

Grin nodded easily. "Sure, no problem. You go on up, I'll be right back." It was pretty much a solid guarantee that any time there was a choice to be made between even a fun activity and a cuppa that was nice and hot, the cuppa was going to come first. She couldn't think of many exceptions. Even if it was a question of tea or hurrying to avoid a lightning storm, she could agree that probably escaping the storm ought to come first, and then only with the utmost reluctance.

Jumping down the stairs (it was more fun than walking), it was an easy jaunt to the galley. To be fair, even with the several extension charms behind certain doors, everything was an easy jaunt in the main body of the Jester. Being positioned toward the middle of the 55 footer, the galley virtually was just a hop, skip, and a jump away. Grin nabbed the plate of sandwiches she'd made up earlier, pausing only long enough to verify that the tiny pair of whiskered beings were still cozily tucked up in the nest she'd made them on the wall beneath a cupboard.

Satisfied, she hurried back up, wincing a little at the bright sunlight. As the former Ravenclaw climbed up to her lawn, she couldn't help grinning at the site of Feliks studying one of her toadstools. "Thought you'd like that," she remarked. "Sandwich?" Grin offered him the plate while she sat to pour his tea.

She glanced up in surprise. Jealous? Was he really? "I'd get too homesick otherwise, I suppose," she admitted, automatically fixing the tea how Feliks had taken it at school. She did miss her dad at times, but she visited whenever she drifted his way. Wandering[1] was in her blood, though, that's what someone used to say to her. Who was that? ...No, really, who had always said that...? A chuckle shook the query loose from her mind. "I do feel really lucky, though. I love this boat. This traveling."

Grin offered Feliks his tea. As she did, her eyes landed on pedestrians paused along the towpath, staring. It was understandable: lots of people were curious of narrowboats. But it was also getting distracting. She turned back to Feliks. "Do you need to go into town for anything? If not, we could drift to somewhere less crowded."

1.	"Peregrine" comes from the Latin "peregrinus," meaning to travel or wander.

At the mention of sandwiches, the toadstool was forgotten and Feliks settled down on the grass with his friend. It was like their picnics on the grounds at school.

Grin's solution to being homesick - to carry her home with her wherever she went - was clever, although they were sure she must miss her father. But that was what apparition was for, new as it was to him.

He plucked a cucumber sandwich off the offered plate, folding his legs under him as he got comfortable.

"No, no errands," the wix confirmed brightly. "Let us drift. I hear there are magical canals? I want to see one very much."

Maybe it would give him ideas about where to live when he decided to move out. He did not think he could do what Peregrine did, with her boat, but it was good to look at other wizarding places to live.

Feliks wolfed down his sandwich as he glanced about at the moor they would be leaving, and the muggles ogling the boat.

"How do you talk to muggles when they ask you questions about your boat?" he asked, turning back to Grin. "Do you ever worry about... you know, them finding out?"

Talk of the statute breaches was common at home. His fathers seemed more preoccupied with the subject in these past few months than ever before.

Her eyes lit. "Oh, just wait. I'd initially thought this was just my own idea, but there's this whole pocket community of liveaboard wixes." Nabbing one of the sandwich wedges, she stuck it in her mouth and jumped back down to grab her mooring ropes. She listened to Feliks' question while chewing and securing the rope, holding up a finger to indicate she'd need a moment. Grin had gotten rather good at appearing to start the boat's non-existent engine while sliding Lucille[1] free enough to get the vessel in motion.

After carefully maneuvering away from the other boats, she looked back up in Feliks' direction with a chuckle. "I've had to get really good, really fast, and really subtle with the Confundus Charm," she admitted. "The liveaboard Muggles are a very friendly lot. Eager to chat, ask all sorts of technical details like what kind of engine or storage or generator you have. And they're happy to have you over to their boat for tea and show you around, and to see yours."

She paused to pull a small square of parchment from her skirt pocket. After giving it a tap with Lucille, she unfolded it a couple times; the size of the parchment doubled with each unfolding until it was the standard size of a Muggle road map. After studying it a moment, she took the tiller[2] in hand again and angled them in the right direction. "I don't mind their curiosity, and I like their company," she continued. "So I just... you know, convince them that they're seeing what ought to be there. That of course there's a proper engine and electrical whatnot, and of course it's not somewhat bigger on the inside. Stuff like that. The gongoozlers[3] are a bit trickier sometimes, though. Those watchers on the towpath, I mean."

Her mind wandered a moment, forgetting to explain what she meant by that. They'd be a while on the canal before finding the right junction:  the narrowboat could safely do only a top speed of 6 mph. Grin supposed wixes could improve upon that, but of course it would attract attention. She rather liked it, though:  her mind was always speeding. So many concepts, questions, possibilities, dreams, and new ideas that coursed through her constantly... Being forced to slow down and just breathe as cities and countryside glided by gave her peace.

After a moment Grin looked up at her friend again. "Hey, can you pass down my teacup?" She stretched to reach up, balancing on one bare foot and using the other to keep the tiller pointed in the right direction.

1.	As a First Year, Grin had named her wand Lucille. She has a habit of naming random things.
2.	The tiller is the large bar in the stern of the boat, shaped like a number seven, used to steer. You move it left to go right, and right to go left.
3.	A gongoozler is someone who enjoys watching boats and activities on the canals.

He listened keenly to Grin explaining her efforts with muggles, slowing his pace to a nibble as he watched her handle the boat. They rocked a little, with the water, and left behind the muggles moored on clipper's dock.

Feliks turned his head to watch the river bank recede. One of his uncles taught him how to sail but this was a different vessel altogether; there was no need to adjust sails or check the wind.

"Gongoozlers!" his attention snapped back to Peregrine and he laughed. "Is that your word or do all... what was it you said? Liveaboard wixes? Do they all say it?"

It felt nice for the boat to be moving and he did not realise until just then that he might grow restless otherwise.

Feliks took up the tea cup as requested, and passed it down to her. He sat on the ledge of the roof, his lanky legs dangling. "It feels like an adventure," the wix remarked. "Oh, that reminds me."

How could he forget? He leaned forward slightly, hands gripping the ledge for balance.

"I'm going to America!" Feliks announced. "After the school trip. There is a great Andes dragon, and the handlers there have written to our Ministry for help. Vincent, um, that's the leader of the Beast Division, Vincent said I could come."

Grin thought Feliks might get a kick out of that one. She couldn't help laughing with him. "I learned it from the Muggles, actually. I've heard a few other wixes adopt that word and some other jargon from liveaboard Muggles. I've even heard some Muggles using wix liveaboard words from others of our kind they unwittingly encountered. Oh, ta." She took her cup from him and sipped gratefully. Mmm... tea... "There's a fair bit of overlap, actually," she added. "It's not always clear to me whose word is whose."

It really did feel like an adventure. The former Ravenclaw grinned. "That's what I love about it," she agreed. "There are some difficult moments, of course. I found out the hard way that I'm claustrophobic in the canal tunnels[1] that go beneath hills and mountains, for one thing." She paused involuntarily to shudder a little. Even thinking of the dark, close-pressed hollow where the distance and duration were impossible to judge... A slightly forced cheer shoved the visual violently back to the recesses of her mind where it belonged. "Also that foxes do not belong on a narrowboat. But I love not knowing what to expect! Who I'll meet, what I'll see, where the current will lead. 'Next stop, anywhere.'"

She was glad to pause for Feliks' news (Grin had been trying to wait patiently, but it was hard), and then jumped in excitement. "Are you serious? Oh, crumb..." The last part came as a brief mutter as she wiped a spot of spilled tea off her blouse sleeve. Tragic. Grin hastily set the cup down out of the way, then turned back to bounce again, unencumbered. "Feliks, that's fantastic!" She grabbed his ankle in lieu of jumping up and down with him while he was seated. "I'm so happy for you! And to a dragon, no less! When is this happening?"

1.

Though not all are so long or deep, some canal tunnels are so extensive as to be pitch black inside for long stretches, and they are not spacious. The Standedge Tunnel, located on the Huddersfield Narrow Canal, is the longest canal tunnel in the UK, stretching over 3 miles (5.2 km) and is also the deepest, burrowing under the Pennine hills. Grin can handle close spaces so long as there's decent air flow, the ceiling isn't too close to her head, and she can see where it opens up on the other side. In the Huddersfield tunnel, she was near to hyperventilating halfway through, surviving the panic attack by loudly singing showtunes and sea shanties and belting out Shakespearen sonnets. Once out from the tunnel, she moored the Jester and had to get off, run through the grass, and have a cry before climbing back on board and brewing about a gallon of chamomile tea to calm her nerves.

Peregrine's adventures sounded very much like he expected - foxes on boats, mixing with muggles, mysterious tunnels. It was like something out of a book; but of course many things in books were straight out of someone's life. Would it not be something if he could write a book like that one day?

Feliks grinned broadly at her reaction to his news.

"At the end of the month!" he answered promptly, feeling a reprise of the excitement he experienced when he first learned about the trip. "It's in Utah, there is this... this immense dragon, an Andean dragon. And it is not supposed to be there, you know this, but for some reason it has fled its normal territories."

When Feliks got started on a subject of interest, it was like a stopper popped off and he couldn't help himself. It helped that someone like Grin would understand his interest, being a Magizoologist.

Her hand on his ankle kept him from kicking his legs restlessly, excitedly.

"The ongoing theory is that deforestation is causing anomalous behaviour," he added quickly. "But we will not really know until it is studied. Bal-- my father wishes he could go but I promised him I will take photographs."

Feliks lifted his hands, miming the act as he winked at Grin. "I think you would like level four. It is mad. The other day a selkie tried to escape. One time I saw a vampire come in, and he was covered in blood."

They could never predict what might happen, day-to-day, which they loved.

Wow. One month, and Feliks was crossing the ocean to a whole other continent. That was so surreal. What an opportunity, to see an Andean dragon! Wait. She tilted her head curiously. Andean dragon, as in from the Andes? What was it doing in Utah?

Oh... "Deforestation? Poor thing," she murmured, more soberly. It had to scare animals so badly, that nonsense. And a scared dragon? Pure chaos. "At least its in good hands now. And you get to study it!" Her grin returned. "Now I'm jealous. Oh, shoot..." They were drifting to starboard.  Grin released Feliks' ankle to grab her tea first (obviously) and then the tiller again. "I blame you," she joked, glancing up briefly in her friend's direction as she course corrected.

Woof, the Ministry. She winced a little. Dad would have loved for her to have so solid a career path. It was just so stodgy and rigid and... "Mad?" In spite of herself, she had to ask. "Hang on, a real selkie? Why was it kept at the Ministry?" Interest successfully piqued; 5 points to Slytherin. But Feliks wasn't finished. A vampire? Grin's eyebrows shot up, fascinated. "Covered in... his or someone else's? Assuming it's a he. Why?"

Grin had to admit it:  shenanigans at the Ministry was the last thing she'd have expected. Great word, shenanigan...

She was getting off topic. "Feliks, what exactly is Level Four? I thought that was... I dunno, regulations? Permits? I didn't really pay attention when we covered Ministry stuff at school. It all just sounded like long-winded rules that boiled down to 'No more happiness!'"

They were momentarily distracted, watching Grin navigate the river with practiced ease - she was good at it, and he wondered if she ever had any accidents.

His friend was full of questions about the Ministry. Feliks felt like a million galleons, thrilled at being asked about it. Of course he knew he was prejudiced because it was where his fathers worked but he liked it very much. How busy it was and how many different people there were.

"Um, there are still rules," he lifted his gaze to the sky, thinking. "But the rules are bendy and many things happen. The selkie is there because they think she was involved in a muggle drowning."

Sometimes he didn't even need to ask Balfour or anyone else. Feliks read the newspapers, he could draw conclusions.

He looked back down at Peregrine, his face scrunched up in thought. "I don't remember about the vampire. He works there. Very French, very pretty. But I think most of my work will be outside of the Ministry."

It was always back to level four at the end of the day but beast handlers spent their time outdoors, at sanctuaries and handling problems. Paperwork was an afterthought Feliks did not mind.

"Where are we going?" he glanced over his shoulder to check their direction.

That was the downside of steering a narrowboat:  she couldn't let go of the tiller. She knew that, of course, but back home with Dad it wasn't uncommon to leave magic to continue stirring a stew pot while she cleaned vegetables. It hadn't escaped Grin's notice that the mentality shouldn't automatically transfer to the steering of the Jester, and usually it didn't: she would have almost-wrecked more than the six times, were that the case. But some distractions, she couldn't fully overpower.

Back in her body, Grin listened while keeping her eyes (mostly) on the canal. First of all, she was definitely inserting herself in the queue to see Feliks' photos once he returned. Secondly:  "Whoa... who do they think she drowned? Also, saltwater or freshwater?" Grin's brow knotted with concern. Not that anyone deserved to drown, but she had to wonder whether the selkie had been provoked.

Another surprise. "The vampire works there?" Now she was really intrigued. And even more, again. "A pretty vampire works there?" Pretty, and French. Ooh, la la. "I didn't know there even were pretty ones," she admitted. "I mean, I didn't think they were specifically ugly, but I've only ever seen the sketches in our textbooks."

That was of course less important than the fact this vampire was actually a Ministry employee, though. "Not our grandparents' Ministry anymore, huh?" she mused. It really wasn't too terribly long ago that people like that were wholly shunned by wix society. "What about werewolves? Are they welcomed there, too?"

Merlin. For all that Grin resisted the concept of working in that dark imposing interior, she had to admit that it sounded less grim than she'd believed. At least for Feliks' department. And if he didn't have to do office work...

"Hm?" She looked up. "Sorry, rabbit-trailed." Grin glanced down at her chart. "We're nearing our junction. Keep your eyes open for a barred off tunnel." Thankfully, it wasn't that sort of tunnel.

"You know, if you wanted to do a little adventuring this side of the pond before you go, you could always tag along with me for a few. We'd have to unearth the bed, but it's all yours. I prefer my hammock, anyway."

Feliks was happy to keep talking about the Ministry. Legs still dangling off the edge of the boat roof, he fell back to lie in the grass while the sky overhead went reeling by at a good pace.

"Saltwater," the wix answered in a yawn, arms stretching overhead. "I think they think she drowned some muggles. I don't know. Level two and four argue over things like that."

There was a lot of tension between the two floors, from what he gathered listening to his fathers' conversations. As far as Feliks could tell this didn't prevent them from working together though.

They sat up against their elbows when Grin asked about werewolves, wearing a wicked smile. "The head of the Werewolf Wing is a werewolf!" he was pleased to announce. "I love her, she kicks arse."

Werewolves had been a touchy subject for Feliks when he was younger, on account of his mother doing so much harm to them, but nowadays he didn't think twice about it. Auntie Bruce was easy to admire.

Feliks turned slightly, twisting himself into an improbably pose so that he could look out for the tunnel.

"I wish I could!" he said wistfully, studying the river walls with an alert bearing that ran contrary to his relaxed temperament. "But I want to spend time with my little sisters at home, before I move o-- there!"

In a tangle of limbs, he turned around altogether and sat back on his heels before pointing at a tunnel entrance that was clearly bricked up. "Is that it? Is it like Diagon, do we sail right through?"