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Slipping into the Hogshead Isaac managed to avoid a group of giggling fourth years who had been wandering the shops, much to his relief.  For some of the students, especially the females, it seemed the trip to the Amazon had renewed the interest in his book.  Which meant silly, giggling little girls reading about his adventures in Africa and gossiping in that way that only young girls could do.  They were worse then the house wives he had been forced to deal with.

With a sigh he crossed to the bar which was relatively empty.  There were plenty of patrons at the tables, but the stools were virtually unoccupied.  He had come down to the village willingly to make sure none of the students got into any trouble and escape his research notes for a bit.  In the corner he saw a pair of seventh years who were eyeing him to see if he might send them out of the establishment.  As long as they weren’t causing trouble though he didn’t plan to get involved.

Ordering a beer he thanked the bartender when it arrived promptly.  The Amazon had of course brought memories to the surface he usually preferred to forget completely, but it had been just what he needed creatively and research wise.  The first chapter of his book was nearly written…at least the first draft anyway.  Taking a sip of the beer he pushed it from his mind intending to simply forget about the book and the rainforest for a few hours.

Her second trip to Hogsmeade was proving much easier to orchestrate than the first.  The last time she'd found her way up to Scotland, she'd had little idea of how to find her way to the wizarding village and there wasn't exactly much in the way of useful tourist information at the train stations.  But, this time, she had a good idea about where she was headed.  She'd caught the afternoon Scotrail train to Aviemore the day before (the Halloween Party had, indeed, warranted more sleeping in than usual) without any trouble.  From the train station, after a bus ride up into the mountains and a little hitchhiking, Jacoba found herself within easy reach of Hogsmeade. 

Finding her way through the village was proving easier the second time as well.  The little town had felt much more like a dusty old ghost town from those American western movies than a sparkling wizarding village.  There was definitely more life in the streets, this time, and some of the shop windows actually looked half-inviting. 

The pub she'd met Sasha's girlfriend - or ex-girlfriend or whatever they were - was, quite frankly, packed with school-aged kids.  It was charming but none of them resembled her brother so Jacoba had pushed on.  And, there really did seem to be more to explore this time.  It was during this exploring that Jacoba had found the smaller, quainter and much less crowded pub.   

She took a seat at the bar and fished in her pocket.  Without explanation, she glanced at the fellow sitting a few bar stools down and laughed slightly before shaking her head.  She'd spent enough time watching Americans figuring out how to order massive beers at the Hofbrauhaus in Munich to know she was preparing to depict all the telltale signs of being a Grade A tourist.  But, there was really no getting around it. 

Fishing through a mishmash of one pound, two pound, euro dollar coins and the more foreign knuts and sickles, Jacoba fished out a silver sickle and set it on the counter.  "Will that just get me a regular beer?  Wheat beer if you've got it?"  Perhaps she was being too optimistic, but one wouldn't know until they asked, right?  The bartender offered her a curious scowl and shook his head. 

"You're kidding, right?" 

With a sigh, Jacoba fished in her pocket again for the handful of coins, scrounging through for more magically-appropriate coinage.

He wasn’t there long before someone else joined him at the bar.  He looked over at her briefly giving her a slight smile before she seemed to find something amusing.  She wasn’t anyone he had seen before in Hogsmeade.  His best guess was that she was in her early twenties, which meant she was most likely not a Hogwarts Alumni as he would have seen her in the halls with the other students who graduated in the last few years.

She began searching for money and he noted the assortment of currencies and couldn’t help quirking an eyebrow slightly at her question to the bartender.  A young witch wouldn’t have asked that question while holding up a sickle, which led him to believe something was amiss.  Curiosity peaked he looked at the bartender and said, “You can add it to my tab.”

Purchasing alcoholic beverages was not something Isaac usually did, but he hoped perhaps a conversation might follow that would answer who exactly she was and how she came to be a Wizarding community.  The bar tender nodded, setting the drink in front of the young woman before moving down the bar to see to another customer who had just come in.  Clearly this new gentleman was a regular and first impression told him perhaps a bit of an unsavory character.

Turning back to the young woman he offered, “Unfortunately a sickle won’t get you very far these days.”

The voice of Jacoba's neighbor drew her attention away from the coins her hand and towards him, and she offered another, though more subtle, grin.  "Thanks," she offered with an appreciative dip of her head as she slipped her handful of coins back in her pocket.  Jacoba was no stranger to handouts; over the years, she'd gotten rather good at procuring them.  There were plenty of nights, during her school days, when Jacoba waltzed into a bar or nightclub with hardly a cent in her pocket, fully expecting to find someone to buy her a round or two of drinks.  On more than a few occasions, she'd even managed when she'd still be underage.  By German standards, even. 

This time, it appeared she'd managed without even intending.  But, she'd long ago gotten over the awkward bashfulness of someone else buying her a drink.  Or offering her a couch to sleep on.  Obviously. 

The pint was set on the bar top in front of Jacoba and she hoisted it, briefly.  "Prost," she offered her neighbor in toast before taking a sip.  Though her family had moved to London before she was old enough to talk, she'd spent large chunks of her childhood back in Germany.  And, her parents always spoke German at home.  Her accent wasn't as clear and strong as a native-born and raised German but it was certainly stronger than either of her siblings. 

"So I've discovered," Jacoba admitted, with a slight chuckle, swiveling her barstool in the fellow's direction.  Or, at least, she'd learned that a sickle wasn't enough for a beer.  Some enjoyable, friendly conversation was a more than reasonable price to pay for a beer.  "Unless, I suppose, you find yourself trapped in a wheat field.  Or, if you're Death out harvesting a few souls."  She took another sip of her beer, buying herself a moment to ponder if wizards were tired of sickle jokes.  Hopefully not, especially considering so few muggles knew of them.  "But, then, I never really understood what Death did with his sickle?  Was it just for show - or does he actually cleave them away?"

That was exactly the type of discussion she'd find herself getting neck deep in with her friends back at the University.  Especially when they were well into their second liter of beer.

Prost.

Isaac raised his own beer slightly joining the young woman in a toast, taking another sip.  After the comment about the sickle she swiveled her stool towards him, commenting not on the coins but the tool commonly associated with harvesting or even more frequently, death.  Her accent hinted of German roots, but wasn’t as strong as one might expect.  He felt a slight chuckle escape his lips at her question, appreciating the sense of humor it showed.

 “Personally,” he said, a smile playing at his lips, “I think it’s all for show.  However, I could imagine a stubborn soul or two giving Death a run for his money and needing a little extra encouragement.”

It was a bit of a morbid way to start a conversation, but somehow he preferred to the standard bar small talk that constituted opening lines.  It also gave him another inkling that all was not as it seemed with the young woman.  It was true she was in a Wizarding community, but the occasional Muggle presence was not completely out of the question.  She could have found her way there somehow; she wouldn’t have been the first.

He took a sip of his beer setting it down on the bar so he could make a proper introduction.  As much as he detested small talk, he found sitting next to a nameless stranger something he desired doing even less.  Once the beer was safely setting on the bar, he extended his hand to her.

“I’m Isaac,” he said, skipping the overly formal introduction for the time being.  “I’m assuming you’re not a regular here in Hogsmeade?”

So, the stupid comment hadn't proved too stupid or, at least, not too stupid for her companion.  Or, at least, his current state of mind.  He had already been here when Jacoba had arrived; that very well might not be his first beer.  Regardless, she was pleased to find her odd brand of humor well-accepted.  Jacoba countered his chuckle with a sly grin of her own before lifting her mug for another sip. 

"Ouch," she mumbled around the rim of the mug, her gut response to the image of souls being pried loose by massive sickles unable to wait until she'd set the mug back down.  She shook her head once the mug had found its spot before grinning at the fellow.  "Now, what do you reckon would make a soul stubborn?  And, are those the people who defy all odds and wake up after years on life support?"Oh, such were the thoughts of highly memorable conversations.

"One could probably market a profitable gimmick off of that.  Fortified blueberry juice - now with more antioxidants and a dash of elmer's glue.  To make your soul stick.  Discover the secret five-year-olds have known for years."   She could see the commercial now. 

Jacoba freed her own hand from her own beer and gave the fellow', Isaac's, a firm shake.  "Jacoba," she offered in return.  "Guilty as charged," she added with a slight smirk before glancing around the dark, dusty pub.  There were clusters of people - a few of them, clearly, students - scattered around the pub, all engrossed in their own conversations.  "I suppose it's that obvious?" she asked, looking back towards Isaac. 

"It's my second time.  It's a little out in the middle of nowhere, if you know what I mean.  But, I suspect that's intentional."  It sure made getting to it difficult, though.  No roads connected the town to the nearest highways - There was usually a good two and a half hour hike involved when traversing the last bit of the journey.  Which, presumably, discouraged most non-magical folks like her.

Most other wizards would have probably been thoroughly confused by some of her references.  The magical community didn’t use Muggle glues or life support machines.  It was one of those times Isaac was grateful not only for the fact that he had been raised experiencing both communities, but also had the background he did with his studies.  It was the only way the young woman’s somewhat strange sense of humor could be appreciated in her current location.

The thought, however, of Elmer’s glue making a soul stick was highly amusing.  Although, if the magical world’s medical community hadn’t figured out some cure all in regards to death by now, he doubted anything would truly cause the soul to fuse so completely.  It was an interesting concept though as certain medical miracles did happen with little explanation, even in the Wizarding World.

Her hand shake was firm and the name drew a little flicker of recognition in his mind.  Jacoba was not exactly a common name, and neither were Muggle visitors to Hogsmeade.  He had read the Daily Prophet article after the Hogwarts’ rumor mill had run wild and it was a fairly safe assumption that the last name that accompanied the first he had been given would be Schlagenweit.  It wasn’t a positive article in the slightest, and he decided for a moment not to mention it.

“The currency thing was a good tip off,” he smirked when she asked if it was obvious that she was a Muggle.  Of course if he was a Sunday regular and not on his first beer his mind might have been a bit less quick at making the connection.

It's my second time.  It's a little out in the middle of nowhere, if you know what I mean.  But, I suspect that's intentional.

“Yeah…It’s sort of a Wizarding safe haven, I suppose.  It’s one of those few places we don’t have to worry about completely hiding certain aspects of life in the magical community,” he told her.  “It’s not exactly the easiest of hikes…I’m guessing you didn’t come all the way here just to get a beer.”

Again, Jacoba tugged the handful of coins from her pocket and, with the tip of her thumb, dug around in the pile as though looking through them would provide more enlightenment this time around.  "Yeah, I suppose.  I've watched my share of Americans fishing through their Euros to find the right denominations."  Jacoba admitted with a sly grin, fishing out one of the stray silver sickles and smacking it down on the counter. 

"I'm still figuring out the general exchange rate, right?"  She admitted.  "And, you have to admit, there's no real logic to your currency.  Who doesn't use a decimal system for money anymore?"  Well, other than wizards, apparently.  Who thought that it made sense to divide galleons by seventeen and sickles by ... twenty-five or thirty-two or something.  "Still trying to figure out what I have to cough up for a three euro beer. Or, how much does one usually expect to get paid?" 

It would take some time, she knew that.  And, she had to remind herself that she was really trying to assimilate with a culture and world that, by all rights, wasn't hers.  It was only because of her associations with her brother - half brother, really - that she was even here.  She didn't remember much of living in East Berlin but she'd heard plenty of stories about life behind the wall; at times, this felt a lot like what she always imagined breaching the Berlin Wall would have felt like. 

And, perhaps, she wasn't supposed to.  She was used to doing what she wasn't supposed to, though. 

"The beer's not that good," Jacoba confessed with a smirk.  "It's decent, mind you.  I don't think it, alone, would have prompted the five hour round trip hike, though.  My brother goes to the school - Hogwarts - and I heard rumors that the students were set free from the school.  I was hoping to run into him; I needed to talk to him.  I kind of messed up and I need to try to do some damage control."

Isaac gave a slight nod in understanding about the currencies before offering, “Imagine it from the opposite perspective.  At least the Americans are used to the decimal system…but when you’re used to something being an exact number of Galleons or Sickles and suddenly the amount isn’t even…It’s a bit like being at a concert and being the only person who jumps up to dance when the band starts to play what you thought was a popular song.  You just feel like everyone is watching you going, ‘what is wrong with that nutter?’”

Of course the places he had travelled that required foreign, Muggle currency he had basically stuck out from the moment he arrived.  In Brazil it wasn’t exactly like there was a Scotsman on every corner, so most people did look at him a bit strange long before he had to deal with making purchases.  He had simply grown used to it over time.

He laughed slightly at the comment about the beer…As much as he enjoyed a good pint he couldn’t imagine walking hours on end to get one.  He tried not think too much on the fact that she had most likely hiked to Hogsmeade alone and was likely to do the same on the way back.  In his mind he was chiding himself already for sounding a bit old fashion in thinking a woman shouldn’t be traveling on her own, but the concern wasn’t completely unfounded.  After all, it was not exactly an easy trek.

“Well, it is what we refer to as a ‘Hogsmeade Weekend’ for the students, so I’m sure he’s here somewhere,” Isaac offered.  “I actually teach at Hogwarts, so piecing together a few things based on the conversation so far, you’re Sasha’s sister, correct?”

He had started with the preface of teaching at the school so as not to sound like he knew more then he should.  Although somehow he highly doubted someone who would make a two and a half hour hike alone would be frightened off by someone being able to link her to Sasha.  If the article hadn’t just run in the paper perhaps it would be a different story.

His analogy made sense - sort of.  In a I-can-see-how-most-might-see-it-that-way kind of way but, at least, she could understand the point he was trying to make.  By the sounds of it, far more wizards had to deal with the confusion of venturing into the non-magical world than the other way around.  She had no doubt that, eventually, she'd get the hang of it.  Like shifting between Celsius in Germany and Fahrenheit back in England.  Or miles per hour and kilometers per hour.  Or, trying to figure out how to order cannibis at Dutch coffee shops. She'd figure it out, eventually.

"I just don't worry about it," Jacoba admitted with a shrug.  "Who cares if your the only one up - it just means you're the only one with the guts to dance.  And, I'm sure the band will appreciate it."  There was, likely, a figurative element to the statement as well as a literal.  "I guess, I'm used to being the girl that's still dancing well after the music's ended."  Lifting her glass, she took a slow, small sip before slowly setting it back down. 

For all the time Jacoba had remained away from home, she hadn't traveled to that many places.  In fact, Sasha traveled more with his show schedules and everything.  England, Germany, Austria, Holland - a few side trips to Poland was about it.  Now, she was back in England.

Jacoba cast a grin at her neighbor as he laughed, nodding slightly.  Hogsmeade weekend - that's right, that's what it was called.  She could remember the form Neely had sent her. 

"Yeah - that's it," she confirmed more for her benefit than his.  "He hasn't been before, from what I understand.  Other than - the-"  She glanced, again, at the fellow.  So, he was one of the professors - presumably, he was aware of the ill-fated, midnight venture into Hogsmeade.  It was just Sasha's luck.  The one time he defies the rules, rather than things going as they should (lots of fun, stolen drinks, anything to reinforce being liberal with rules), they end up getting attacked by a werewolf.  A werewolf!  She preferred not to voice that outloud, though, if she could avoid it.  It wasn't a pleasant thought and it made her insides churn. 

She plowed on with the primary point she was making.  "He never had permission before - but, I sent him one.  So, I hope he's not hiding away for his first permitted trip out."  But, she knew it was very likely.  On one hand, Sasha thrived on approval from others - on the other hand, he was terrified of disapproval. 

"Yeah," she confirmed, needlessly.  "Well, half-sister, I guess.  I haven't seen him in years.  So, what do you  teach?  Reviving Princes from Toads 101?"

Isaac smiled slightly at her statement about being the girl who was always the one up dancing.  He was suddenly starting to get the sense that she was nearly the opposite of her brother, starting with the fact that she actually made the two and a half hour trek to Hogsmeade.  Sasha was always proper and seemed to be incredibly worried about how he was perceived by others.  He had a feeling Jacoba probably didn’t spend too much time dwelling on what others thought.

When she mentioned that she had managed to get Sasha permission to attend Hogsmeade Weekend, Isaac couldn’t help wondering where she was when he had been forced to beg Bombay to sign off so the young man could go to the Amazon.  The whole incident had been a bit mortifying, especially the reference that there might be something going on between Aileen Reid and himself.  As attractive as the Ancient Runes professor was he had stepped in during the altercation with Bombay simply to be a gentleman, not for the reasons Bombay alluded to.  He would have given anything to avoid that whole conversation with the other man.

So, what do you teach?  Reviving Princes from Toads 101?

Thankfully he had not been attempting to take a sip of his drink when the question was posed.  Surely it would have only led to a series of choking coughs instead of the chuckle that escaped him.  It wasn’t often he was able to talk to someone with a bit of a quirky sense of humor.

“Sadly, no,” he said with a smirk.  “My subject’s known as Muggle Studies…The first two years it’s offered to the students are made up of material that are as dry as the title suggests.  At least I can introduce material that actually forces the students to think a bit starting with the fifth years.”

His tone was light, despite the fact that he had never been a terribly big fan of the third and fourth year classes.  Studying things like toasters and televisions had never particularly interested him.  Nothing new could really be learned about a culture that was so immersed in modern technology, which had been part of the lure of the jungle and then of Africa.

“Perhaps I should consider revising my credentials a bit,” he continued.  “You know, turn myself into a toad and see what might happen.  Now that research would certainly produce a book that would make the target audience my publishers try to urge me to write for take notice.  I can almost see it…My life on the Lily Pad by Isaac Fraiser.”

Jacoba cast a slightly victorious smirk in Isaac's direction when the man was, quite clearly, saved from snorting his brew by pure chance and good timing.  Or, perhaps, poor timing, depending on one's perspective.  Her stool seat gave a quiet creak when it swiveled as Jacoba turned to face the fellow more directly.  Finding someone who had a quirky sense of humor wasn't easy; finding someone who enjoyed said sense of humor was, sometimes, harder. 

"Shame," she offered, simply, sounding, for at least a moment, disappointed.  Teaching girls to kiss frogs could be quite an amusing - if not loud - career. 

"Muggle - Isaac Frasier?"  Jacoba asked as bits of information that, prior to a few minutes ago had seemed entirely random and disconnected, finally fell into logical order.  "So, you're the one who teaches Sasha's favorite class?  I think he's mentioned the class in every letter I've gotten.  But, that could very well be more for Dreogan's benefit than my own.  If I remember correctly, you know them, as well."  Them indicating both of the Eleor brothers.  The topic of Muggle Studies had come up on quite a few occasions but, of course, as he'd been well-trained to do, Sasha never mentioned the first names of professors.  It was only after Isaac had announced his field that she'd connected the Professor Frasier in the letters to the Isaac sitting next to her. 

Her stool creaked again as she swiveled even more fully towards him.  "So, you study muggle culture?  Like, it's kind of sociology for dummies?" she asked.  "That must be - I mean, I don't get how you can."  Though, perhaps, that was the point the fellow was trying to make.  She offered an apologetic grimace.  "I don't mean to sound - don't take it the wrong way.  I mean but - I presume when you say muggle studies, you mean British culture?  I mean some muggles have toasters that toast both sides of the bread.  Not just one."  Between her conversations with Dreogan and the letters from Sasha, explaining toasters seemed to have become the token example of the muggle studies curriculum. 

Material that forces the students to think.  "Like, that Amazon trip?"  Jacoba asked, more bits of information falling into place.  "Must have been bloody fun.  I admit I was kind of jealous.  But, then, look at where I am now."  She glanced around the dusty, old, rundown pub. 

Jacoba laughed and shook her head, slightly.  So, the fellow had a bit of his own sense of humor?  That was good to know.  "Makes you wonder, doesn't it?  Maybe there've been dozens of folks in the past who've done that very thing.  Somewhere, there's a colony of toads wondering if they'd done something foolish and how long it'll be till someone decides to kiss them.  Bummer."  She took another drink of beer.  "I mean, despite the stories, I don't see a lot of girls who's first thought is to pucker up whenever they see a toad.  Just in case." 

There was a sense of pride at hearing that Sasha mentioned his class in most of his letters.  It was those rare students who truly showed an interest in the subject that made teaching about toasters and televisions for two years worth while.  Of course there was a bit of British culture and European history thrown in to make it a bit more bearable in Isaac’s mind, but still if he never had to talk about a toaster again he found he would be able to live quite contently.

He hadn’t spoken to Dreogan recently, but he gave a slight nod in recognition, although he couldn’t say he knew Adon terribly well.  It seemed he and Dreogan were of a similar mindset that Sasha would be well suited to pursue Muggle Studies.  He thought perhaps on his next visit to London it might be wise to stop and see him.

“We only really study British culture the first year of the class,” he said.  “I mean, honestly, how long can one praddle on and on about electronics and muggle transportation?  Once we’ve covered the ‘required’ material I tend to look for inspiration elsewhere and explore world cultures.”

He took a sip of beer, the subject changing to the recent fieldtrip, and then added, “That’s sort of how that trip fits in.  It was an attempt to combine my passion for teaching with that of doing actual field work.  It’s just rare that there’s an opportunity to give the students real life experience in my field.”

"Must have been bloody fun.  I admit I was kind of jealous.  But, then, look at where I am now."  He smiled appreciatively.  Perhaps he had been wrong in his assumption; her interest in the Amazon told him that she and Sasha weren’t complete opposites.  It seemed that they simply had a different view on life.

"I mean, despite the stories, I don't see a lot of girls who's first thought is to pucker up whenever they see a toad.  Just in case."

“That does give me something to consider,” he told her.  “What are the odds of finding a girl willing to just take a chance that a common everyday toad might be their ‘prince charming’ in disguise?  I could be stuck like that for the rest of my days which would be quite an unfortunate way of life.  Then again, I suppose I could always just hop off and join a little toad colony and continue my existence as a bachelor.”

"Yeah, but," Jacoba started.  She hesitated a moment, turning her glass of beer between the palms of both hands.  She'd spent long enough in the humanities department at the University to know how Academia went.  Chances were good there was a limit to the amount of control he had over the curriculum.  Especially at first.  But, still ...

"But that's not - that's not British culture.  That would be like us sitting around saying wizarding culture is brooms.  It's - it's more than that.  Technology doesn't create culture.  It actually masks our culture." 

She wasn't sure if she was getting her point across. She wasn't sure if, with her rather basic understanding of what he did she was misinterpreting what he'd said.  But, it still seemed the basic concept was the same.  "It just seems like if you focus on muggle transportation, the bigger picture is being missed." 

She paused, before glancing at Isaac and offering a slightly amused grin.  "Sorry, it just seems strange."  Or, perhaps, Jacoba liked to think she was more than a mode of transportation.  Or a toaster. 

"So, what exactly are you researching?  What kind of field work do you do?"  Jacoba knew of plenty of people in the natural sciences who'd gone to Central and South America for biology or ecology.  They were always on the hunt for new species.  "I've gathered it's not a very popular field."

Jacoba laughed and shook her head.  "I think the chances are pretty slim," Jacoba admitted.  "It's not something we sit around gossiping about in giggles.  My guess is there are far more toads than there are girls willing to kiss them.  You'd be better off hiring a girl to start kissing toads and interviewing any would-be princes you find for the book." 

“No, I guess I just didn’t phrase it very well,” he told her, actually finding it a bit refreshing to be questioned further.  Over the years he had tended to prepare himself from the moment the conversation turned to his profession for the usual onslaught of disinterest.  It was usually easier outside of class when unsure as to how interested the other party might be to simply put it into simple terms and move on.

“Obviously it’s not just transportation and things like toasters,” he said, trying not to grimace at the mention of his least favorite object.  “My goal with the class is to actually have my students have basic understanding of different cultures around the world.  It’s sort of nice when the students actually think outside the boundaries of how they perceive the world.  But you’re right; it’s unfortunately not a particularly popular field.  Mostly because most people can’t see past their own notion of what the class is about.”

Toasters.  That’s what people honestly thought his class was about.  Bloody, stupid toasters.  Toasters were the very bane of his professional existence and he always said he would be happy the day he officially taught his final third year introduction class and would not longer have to explain the finer points of how it was Muggles went about turning bread into toast in the morning.

“I’ve been working on researching uncontacted tribes,” he said, answering her inquiry about his research.  “It’s sort of always been an interest of mine…and magic gives Wizarding researchers a bit of an upper hand since we can hide ourselves completely from the groups we’re studying and prevent them from picking up any illnesses their immune systems may not be capable of fighting.  We can get an honest picture of their way of life through observation without destroying what we’re attempting to study.”

His main goal had always been to do as little damage as possible to the people he was studying.  If he had do research as Muggles did he certainly wouldn’t have been able to do so successfully.  If that had been the case he probably would have actually had more luck in the realm of toads then the realm of research.

You'd be better off hiring a girl to start kissing toads and interviewing any would-be princes you find for the book.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he answered.  “Could you imagine that advertisement?”