Lemon family farm,
Oxfordshire, time TBD
A clear day with highs of ~79*F / 26*C

July had arrived. Ursula's second summer, thus far, sheltering with the Lemon family. Already Ursula was tiring of chores near the height of the season. She wasn’t in a position for many excursions outside of welfare checks, unable to join the school trip across Europe. Her visits with other classmates were seldom. The adult children of James & Mary were sometimes about. Gertie and Hagtha[1] were from Hufflepuff like their mother, and the oldest Roger was a Squib who worked in Camden Town in London.

One way to incentivize Ursula for her chores was letting her see the rare kinds of magical herbs grown at the farm. The second was allowing her assistance on a section of the pumpkin patch where larger, unusually shaped gourds were grown. Ursula hoped to grow a massive pumpkin, bigger than the ones seen around Hogwarts before she was off to school in September.

The weekend cloudiness had broken into brilliant sun-rays, Ursula's olive complexion darkening from time spent outdoors. She strode to a familiar spot in the patch, clad in breathable clothes. A simple pale blue dress over a pair of green shorts, hair tied back with a colorful scarf, and sturdy shoes caked in dirt. A few pumpkins were already close to her size, one with a strange concave shape where she could lean into it like a chair. The pumpkins were pale, faintly orange or green and one almost blue in hue, which would deepen in color as they ripened.

There were no less than three books in her bookbag at any given time, as Ursula pulled out a few to read as she waited. The young witch had nicked one of the old worn paperbacks[2] from Roger’s things, a man of folded paper set ablaze on the cover: Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury. The story of a firefighter charged to burn books fascinated the young bookworm, but fiction proved to not catch her interest today after a chapter.

An owl had arrived the other day from her new Head of House, Aurora Hawkins, and for once Ursula was eager to meet a school authority. Ms. Hawkins worked as an auror and sounded very cool! Ursula could brag to the other students on the train who’d have yet to learn of the new professor’s appointment, a glee kept to herself as she nestled into a comfortable seat among the pumpkins.

She kept her eyes peeled toward the skies above the road, watching for any signs of magical transport or apparition to mark Prof. Hawkins arrival. Bradbury’s novel was sandwiched between the larger books on her lap, one of them nonfiction.[3] Ursula didn’t feel like memorizing pages from her school copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore, on the bottom of the stack. Zeppelins Over Prague by Eglantine Price-Browne was historical fiction, by an old witch, but her novels always had an appendix in the back that covered the actual history. The first section specified how the disaster in the book was patterned after the 1937 crash of the Hindenburg airship in New Jersey.

1.	Ursula’s internal nicknames for Gertrude and Agatha, as she's a brat
2.	Cleared with Nuri!
3.	Or what passes for it IC in a world with textbooks about magic.

They could see all the way through to the pumpkin patch, from the back door and windows of the kitchen. Ursula was a restless figure under the summer sun.

"Least she's settlin' in alright, yea?" Roger remarked as he dusted the floo off his clothes. "You and da not having trouble?"

The kitchen was the largest room in the farmhouse, which was something of a cottage build with two stories and large windows. It was the only room with a fireplace and held the most memories. Every time he came to visit he was surprised by how little the farmhouse changed. Less junk, maybe, none of his stacks of books or his sisters' sewing projects tripping him up.

The Lemons were poor but they were neat - it meant their home might look a little haggard, with worn out textiles and furniture, but there was still a smidge of propriety. A home his mum wouldn't be ashamed to invited guests into.

       "No, no trouble luv." The witch in question answered, glancing away from the open back door. "Keepin' her busy, we are. Got to, with these sorts."

Roger took of his jacket but didn't join her at the kitchen table. She didn't much resemble him, save for something around the eyes. Mary Lemon had blonde hair, going grey early, and the face of a hardy woman who smiled often.

"You think?" he replied as he went about making a pot of tea. "S'pose you've a point. No point lingering on the bad, if there's bad to be lingered on."

Barely five minutes home and he was already slipping into his old way of speaking. He noticed that the nice tea caddy had been taken down, blue porcelain with purple flowers. "Expecting folk?"

His mum nodded - she'd gone back to watching Ursula through the back door. Roger did the same through the windows. This was the second summer with the girl but he didn't know her much better. 

       "Mm, that new professor's coming by," she explained after a beat, "to check on the young one. They say she was an auror."

He quickly lowered his gaze, checking on the stove. It was hard to hear 'auror' and not think of Raine, who he frequently saw in her red robes at Hiraeth.

"Good luck to the kid." Roger muttered, nearly cut off by the whistle of the kettle.

As he took it off the fire he glanced up again. "Speak o' the devil."

The address hadn't been too difficult to obtain with the paper trail between the Ministry and Hogwarts itself following Ursula's unusual journey through the system thus far in life. From the case file on being found, the hag attack, the various locations she'd been thus far, leads on her blood parentage, her enrollment at the prestigious wizarding school, and her continued trek through fostered care, Aurora had hoped sending an owl was polite enough before her actual arrival.

The fireplace flared green around her, momentary disorientation and the tumbling of travel solidifying into a pleasant, almost tranquil setting as the former auror got her bearings. Much like Roger had, a standard of floo travel, she first concerned herself with straightening her posture and brushing the soot from her neatly done bob of hair and formal robes. Not only was she a guest here, but this meeting was semi-formal at the least, and in her capacity as a professor no less, so she'd decided to dress the part. A dark blue, smooth-collared number neatly buttoned at the neck and wrists flowed into a dress bottom that dangled just off tidy, black shoes.

Sure of her appearances, the next step was to locate the Lemon's themselves, her smile immediate and warm when her gaze settled on Roger and his mother. "Mrs. Lemon? Apologies if floo was not how you were expecting me, but I did not wish risk any sort of disturbance outside by apparition or broom. Professor Aurora Hawkins. And this must be... Roger?"

Through all her formality, she did manage to take a few steps forward then, at least away from the fireplace itself, and even let her eyes drift out the window to the pumpkin patch. But that was cursory, and habits from childhood kept her attention largely on her hosts until bade otherwise at their discretion. "A lovely home you have, and those gourds are impressive, intimidating even."

Book burners, magical herbs, and burning zeppelins. Ursula's scattered focus didn't help her expectations for this new professor. Having only heard she was law enforcement, yet taking the title of Head of Slytherin along with her first year of teaching Defense, suggested the image of a mighty witch for the young student.

An awareness that had her thoughts skipping the obvious as she continued to watch the boundaries, no longer reading. How would a former auror arrive? On the fastest model of koště? A specially assigned přenášedlo like a badge or tie pin? If she was that notable of a career auror, surely Prof Hawkins could complete her přemisťování with a flourish. Even though it was some years since dwelling in Czechia, Ursula was used to that country's law enforcement typically coming to the door out of politeness.[1]

Stowing the books back in her bag, Ursula stood only to slump over another enlarged pumpkin. Her gaze was outwards, rather than towards the farmhouse, where she might have noticed a dissipating green wisp of smoke from the Floo use. Her mind was abuzz with potential first impressions, as she kicked her feet behind her. What should she ask the professor first? Should she recite something from her school text? Show off her pumpkin's progress or her pet rat?

"Lolmis?" Hadn't her rat been following her among the squashes? Bag hanging over her left shoulder, she meandered throughout the patch, calling the name of her variegated rat a few times. Taking longer to return than the adults likely expected. Finally fed up, with one last look towards the road, Ursula opened the back door to where she knew Mary Lemon was prepping tea.

"When was she comi--?" The question died on her lips, seeing Mary and Roger talking to a blonde, sharply featured woman smartly dressed in blue. An unintended pause as Ursula stood at the door, which also emphasized the full extent of her prosthetic arm holding it open.

(Mild CW for amputation, depiction of injury)
The straps of Ursula's dress were thin, unlike her school clothes which had longer sleeves. Revealing how her wooden limb was similar to a branch from the magical tree from which it was carved. It was anchored to the stub remaining by her right shoulder with short, root-like sections. Most of the old scar tissue was covered, although the longest snaked away from where the resin treated wooden grain met the skin of her flesh.

(End CW)
Ursula pursed her lips, more embarrassed from the awkward moment of introduction than how she would look to a stranger. Of course, she'd missed the newly minted professor's arrival by Floo. What everyone, from children like her to squibs like Roger could use. How pedestrian. Banal.

But Ursula was a young girl who also minded her first impressions. She crossed her arms in front of her, at the wrists, her mouth twisting into her biggest smile. "Dobrý den![2] You must be Professor Hawkins?"

1.	Utilizing a List of Wizarding Terms in Translations of Harry Potter to go along with google translations. For this paragraph in order are "broom", "portkey" and "apparition" used for the Czech editions.
2.	A greeting, ie "Good day!"