Tilly had hurried out the door with a cup of coffee, only to decide it was probably better to drink tea. Climbing back up the stairs, she’d dashed into the flat and filled a psychedelic, kaleidoscope-ish thermos with warm rooibos from the kettle. Grabbing a cold muffin from the fridge, she stuffed it into her bag with the thermos, and glanced toward the clock. Three minutes to weave through the crowd and get to her appointment at Reducto. It wasn’t a likely win.

Before heading out the door a second time, despite being rather late already, she peaked in on Dennis, whom she assumed was somewhere under the mass of blankets on the rumpled, comfy, shabby-chic bed. She grinned to herself and left again, barely remembering her keys on the hook before shutting the door behind her.

While not a stickler for time by any stretch of the imagination, Tilly had been the one to set up the orientation interview, and she wanted to keep her word. She knew how hard it was to be ‘different’ in a swarm of magic, and she thought she could help Jacoba. The young woman had been quite entertaining, and eclectic in her taste, the sort of person Tilly usually gravitated toward. She would be a lovely addition to the record shop family.

“Sorry,” she murmured, brushing past people, offering lopsided grins and wisps of untamed hair. With autumn setting in, her locks were growing darker and longer.

Finally crossing the threshold into the friendly, vibrant shop, its chime announcing her arrival, she nodded at customers and made her way to the register, near the stockroom. Her bounce softened, her pace became steady and tranquil. She was in her element now. She put her things behind the counter, wishing a good (late) morning to the young man on shift, and then looked around for signs of Pandora-in-Shoes.

Tummy already grumbling for two, Tilly decided she could definitely use that muffin soon.

This had to be karmic retribution in the best way possible; though what the twenty-year-old, dark-haired muggle had done to deserve this stroke of fantastic luck, she hadn't the foggiest idea.  Erwin, the strangely-dressed, dread-lock adorned Dutchman that had inhabited the phone cubicle next to Jacoba's had a theory that karmic points were earned at a faster rate when working for someone like Amnesty International.  The red-head had even gone so far as to come up with a formula for calculating the karmic yield for each job title at their office during a post-work wind down at the neighborhood cannibis coffee shop. 

At that time, Jacoba had just figured he was high (which he was) and occupying his mind in the best way possible in said high (which, again, he probably was).  Now, she couldn't help but wonder if there had been some hidden meaning.  Though Jacoba couldn't share any details, if this interview worked out, Jacoba would be sure to ring the man up and tell him his theory had worked. 

After nearly a month of handing out resumes, Jacoba was interviewing for a job.  A paying job.  In England, as a foreign citizen.  In this economy and job market.  That, alone, was cause for celebration but the real jello in the shot was the location.  Diagon Alley - the wizarding street in London.  It was, so Jacoba had heard, the heart of the wizarding world in London - Sasha had told her she should be prepared to stand in the middle of the street, dumbfounded.  He'd then gone into a long-winded warning that such behavior was considered far more appropriate for eleven-year-olds than it was for twenty-year-olds so she should be prepared for being stared at, herself.   

In addition, she was almost completely safe from running into family or family acquaintances - always a plus in her book.  The bank her father worked at was a mere handful of blocks from Adon's apartment but, between the apartment buildings wizarding barriers and Diagon Alley, it was like they were in an entirely different world.  Which they were. 

She couldn't wander and explore.  Not yet.  That's what Jacoba kept reminding herself as she made her way down the colorful, Dickens-esque alleyway.  It was tempting but the job - she couldn't risk being late to the interview. 

The directions had led her straight to the record store (which was, quite literally, a record store.  There wasn't a single compact disk in sight.)  There was no sign of Matilda Quinn when Jacoba first entered so she occupied herself with browsing the selections.  There were some band names she recognized, many that seemed to be, quite obviously, magical in nature (The Clashing Giants and the Magix seemed obvious) but there were quite a few that seemed entirely foreign. 

The door clinked open and Jacoba watched Matilda Quinn make her way to the counter.  Jacoba tugged the record under her fingers from the stacks and turned to approach the woman.  "The House Elf Choir?"  She asked, glancing up from the album cover.  "Do I want to know?"

Tilly suddenly spotted Jacoba, and broke into a big smile. She traced the young woman’s steps back to the stack of records where she’d just been standing, and laughed. “They’re actually quite brilliant,” Tilly assured her. “Sort of... experimental. Very high pitched melodies, great for remixing dance beats. If you ever find yourself DJing.” Which was highly likely, if Tilly got her mits on the girl long enough to submerge her in the local culture. The music scene was always vivacious, always changing, but always retained a sort of classic... magic.

One which didn’t require a wand.

“But anyway, I was thinking after the tour, I’d start you off in the back, alphabetizing records so you can start to remember their names, and which genre they are. They’re already sorted by section, so you’ll just have to sort of micromanage,” she explained. “It’s not the most exciting thing, but you’ll be able to turn on the second record player back there and try out a few things while you’re working. Then tomorrow or the next day, you can start on the floor. Help the other sales reps, talk to customers, that sort of thing. Once you know a few bands, find your niche, it’s much easier to approach the people who come in and out of here.” Not that Tilly doubted Jacoba’s confidence. She seemed to have more than enough, and she also had good taste in Muggle music. “If that’s all ok by you, I mean. I know it’s not exactly a legendary first day, hanging with a bunch of boxes. If you’d prefer just shadowing someone right away, or starting upstairs in Instrument Retail and Repair, just say the words.” She winked.

“And,” Tilly continued, pausing for breath. “We’ll be lunching out today, so you can have a look around the streets. I’ve got a map for you.” Patting down the pockets of her jeans, she searched until she found the folded bit of paper in her back pocket. “The Visitor Information Booth is just round the corner, right near the robes shop.” She unfolded the map and handed it to Jacoba, pointing at the little block with a minuscule Reducto Records written beneath it. It was color coded, yellow for entertainment. A few bouncing music symbols danced beside the shop’s name. “That’s us.” Her finger traced over the glossy paper, until it reached the red spot where visitors could gather more information. “But really, I can tell you everything you need to know about this place.”

Spreading her arms wide she gestured nowhere and everywhere.

“Have you had breakfast?”

"Are they actually ... elves?"  Jacoba asked, glancing back at the album, again.  Elves had proven to be a consistently confusing point in magical culture - one which Jacoba had yet to really straighten out.  Perhaps the solution to her persistent confusion was now sitting in her hand in the form of a record cover.  But, as she took a closer look at the album cover, it was impossible to hide the disappointment that ebbed into her features.  "Those are elves?" she asked, in obvious disbelief.  "I - wow.  That's - "  That's a far cry from Orlando Bloom.

"Find myself DJing?  That's - that's a possibility?"  Jacoba asked, an unquestioningly enthusiastic ring to her voice.  "DJing what?  Like - functions for wizards?"  How fecking awesome would that be?  It was about as close to a dream job as one could imagine.  Or, at least, Jacoba could imagine. 

Jacoba shook her head, dispelling any concerns Tilly might have that this work was 'less than exciting.'  Every job had grunt work - for grunt work to entail sitting around exploring a whole new realm of musing while sticking a few albums in alphabetical order was bloody brilliant.  "Seems straight forward, enough.  So - it's all still records, though?" she asked, glancing around the shop.  "Is there a reason you all haven't ... well, gone the digital route?"  CDs were, certainly, convenient even if they lacked the nice fold out posters.  "And, do you all stock muggle music?  Do you ever take recommendations?"  The shop may already be rather versed in the realm of muggle music but, if not, there was no question Jacoba could help fill in some holes. 

"That won't be a problem."  In fact, Jacoba fully intended on shamelessly approaching people even before she'd found her niche.  Chances were good that, in the beginning, most of the customers would know more than she - she had no qualms about learning from them. 

And, the day seemed to be getting better and better.  Jacoba's grin grew progressively wider with each declaration of lunch and map and bit of information that was handed her way.  "Wow - thank you," she offered, shaking her head in disbelief.  You have no idea - It's -  I was certain I would never find a job in this economy.  Not as a migrant.  And, somehow, I've managed to rope a rather cool gig."

"No - I was up in Hogsmeade over the weekend so I was running a little slow this morning," Jacoba answered to the question about breakfast.  "And, I didn't want to be late.  Though, speaking of which, since you can't poke bricks with wands - how do you get in here?"  Jacoba asked.  That little dilemma had, certainly, turned into the biggest challenge when it came to arriving on time.  "I just waited until someone else went through and followed them.  Is that - is that what you do?  Or do you know some trick?" 

Nodding delightedly, Tilly giggled. “They’re progressive elves-- sort of a voice for the new party seeking equality. Brilliant stuff, really. You should read up on the history of Dobby if you’re interested. He had a big hand in ending the war.” Tilly could chatter on and on about the history of some bands. Particularly those with a cause behind their melodies. Of course, she might have been biased. In more ways than one.

“I know they aren’t like Santa’s helpers or the ones who peddle chocolate biscuits, but they’re quite sweet. They do look like Germlins, though,” she laughed. Tilly supposed Jacoba had seen the film, a classic muggle sci-fi.

Glancing down at the stack of papers a clerk had left for her, Tilly nodded, absently scanning the numbers. The numbers were her least favorite part of the job. She looked back to Jacoba. “Of course! If that’s something you’re interested in...” Luckily, music was something that didn’t require a wand. And providing the entertainment for social events was a great way to find a niche  in an otherwise tight-knit community.

“We can’t use digital technology,” she explained. “I mean, it might work here, if only for a second, but usually there’s too much magic in the air. It definitely wouldn’t work if we started shipping CD’s off to the school, or Hogsmeade. There aren’t any muggle villages around for miles. It’s like a vortex for electricity, really. Everything just sort of goes haywire, or just stops completely.”

But, of course, there were other solutions.

Gliding over to the nearest bin of records, Tilly fished out an old favorite and handed it to Jacoba. “We do,” she said proudly. “My old boss insisted. That’s part of why he hired me-- I sort of had the ‘in’ with muggle music, since I went to muggle school and all.” Anything Jacoba could bring to the table would be welcome with open arms and a smile. “Please, feel free to broaden our selection!”

Pleased that her new friend seemed pleased, Tilly shook her head, curls bouncing slightly, a silent it’s problem at all floating between the pair of them. “I’m thrilled to have you here. I don’t mind being a squib, but between you and me, it’s nice to be around someone else who doesn’t have a wand-- and isn’t an ex-convict.” Bless the sweet souls on Knockturn Alley.

“Well, then, I’ll order us something,” she suggested, pealing her eyes from the muffin. Really, a full English breakfast sounded much better. “How’d you like Hogsmeade? It’s a bit more quaint than this,” she said, laughing knowingly. “Oh, yeah. You can Floo here. There’s a fireplace down in the cellar... or you can side-along Apparate. And there are a few back-ways, but most of them lead straight from clusters of Wizarding flats and townhouses. Lots of magic involved.” Still, it was easier when one was aware that it actually existed. “But,” she added, “If you’re coming from the pub every morning, I’ll just have a chat with the barkeep. He’s an old friend. He’ll help you out.”

"Progressive elves?"  Jacoba arched a curious and confused eyebrow in the woman's direction before chuckling.  "Are there ... conservative elves?  Do they vote or something?"  If there was one thing she'd learned about the wizarding world it was that it was impossible to tell what was reasonable and what was far fetched.  Jacoba might have thought the idea of a wizard-belching fireplace was ridiculously farfetched when it was entirely normal.  (In her case, the things belched muggles, too.)  Tall, blond, gorgeous elves seemed entirely reasonable in Jacoba's book but that had produced quite the disbelieving laughs from others.  She'd given up trying to predict what would sound foolish and what would sound normal. 

"Dobby.  He was an elf?  Far cry from Galadriel."  If Tolkein only knew.  "They are kind of ugly.  And they're ... servants?"  That's what Jacoba had gathered from her conversation with Neely.  A rather unsettling idea.  Jacoba wasn't sure she'd want to wake up and see one of those standing by her bed.  "So - are there even other types of elves somewhere?  Where did ... you know ... muggles get their ideas for them?  They're so ... wrong."

She nodded, the enthusiasm well-worn on her face.  "I'd love to. It'd be fantastic." 

"That's weird. Do you know why?"  Jacoba asked.  She supposed it made sense that magic would interfere with technology.  Was it power?  Was it - she wasn't sure.  "Is it like when solar flares mess with computers?  It's curious." So.  Digital stuff doesn't work here - which meant no DVDs.  Or computers and internet.  The list of typical teenaged pasttimes was quickly dwindling.  "What ... what do you all do for fun?  I'm not sure muggle kids could survive without digital stuff.  They'd die of boredom." 

Jacoba grinned appreciatively at the prospects of breakfast and nodded her head.  "I appreciate that, thanks," she offered sheepishly.  She was famished.  "Hogsmeade was interesting.  I don't think I'm quite to seeing all of it - I think some of the 'charms' are still in place but it was definitely less of a ghost town this time.  The beer - it was Scottish, obviously but that's to be expected.  I met one of the professors from the school there - he was rather curious."  She smirked, slightly, before shaking her head.  "I was introduced to flooing so that could definitely work.  The place I'm staying at is connected, I think.  But, Adon's place is just around the corner from Diagon - it's not that far.  If you think the barkeep wouldn't mind, that'd be awesome." 

"So, what do I have to do to get this gig in the bag?  What ways do I need to impress you?"

Tilly laughed, shaking her head. “Not exactly. They’re not very political... most of them are quite domestic, and their family lines are directly connected to the wizarding families they care for. If you’re an elf, chances are you’re going to be serving the children of whomever your parents served. Elves are rather fond of their... servitude... but there are a few who long to be freed, given wages and clothes... the ones who want to choose their employers are sort of a Big Deal.” Like Dobby, for example. “And then there are those who want equal rights in government. Merlin bless them. I hope they get their voice some day.”

It was amusing, to have someone around who was not only expert on muggle culture, but a complete virgin (for lack of better word) to wizarding ways. “Right... Galadriel’s more like a Veela than an elf, at least in our world.” But the Lord of the Rings wasn’t far off in some aspects. Gandolf, for example, was a dead-ringer for Albus Dumbledore. “Nope, the only types of elves are the ones who serve. And the ones who go wayward from serving...” Although, they did have their own brand of magic, and it had its advantages. It was far beyond anything Tilly could manage, that was for certain. “I think muggles got most of their ideas from the little they encountered before the Statute of Secrecy. It was implemented so long ago that Wizarding History became folklore, and when muggle language and culture and religion got integrated and reformed, the stories got twisted.”

An enthusiastic employee was exactly what Tilly had been looking for. While there was an advantage in hiring someone with magic, there was also an advantage in hiring someone who understood music on the other side of the Leaky Cauldron’s brick wall. It was how Tilly had been hired, and she was keen to keep up the tradition.

“No idea. I’m not exactly a physics professor,” she laughed. “But, I mean, I’m sure there are loads of charms they had to produce to keep muggles in the dark, and to protect them. That probably has a lot to do with it.” It made sense-- preventing electricity from working properly was a good way to keep wizards from becoming curious cats. And thus, to keep muggles from knowing what really lay in the heart of London.

“Yeah, I learned that in school,” she laughed, referring to televisions and digital media. Her dormmates had always bemoaned physical education and school expeditions that didn’t involve attending the cinema or some big city like Paris, where bright lights and techno could cradle them like a second set of parents. Not that Tilly didn’t enjoy such things. They were a necessary element of her childhood as a squib, and she’d loved them as much as any of her schoolmates. But there was something endearing about the magical world, and its quirky old-fashionedness. She’d always supposed the Bob Dylans of the world would have loved it.

“We have our magical radio, the Wizarding Wireless,” she explained. “And we’re very into books here.” This admission, tool, left her mouth with obvious amusement. “But most of the teenagers have their weaknesses-- pop culture magazines, tabloids, sweets shops, fashion, concerts... they’re not really all that different, minus the computers and plus a bit of magic.”

There were also things like Pensieves, Wizarding Chess, magical cameras, and Weasley products to pass the time.

“You should pop into that joke shop down the road,” she encouraged. “I think you’ll find out what humors us...” Or them. For Tilly was an ‘us’ and a ‘them.’

“What’ll you have, then? I’ll order it via Floo.” Since Jacoba seemed to already know about it, perhaps it was the least overwhelming. Plus, Tilly needed to catch up with her favorite waitress at the corner diner. She and Dennis had been favoring lots of leftover (and utterly delicious) Chinese and curry for breakfast (or, technically, lunch) lately. Eggs and bacon sounded nearly foreign.

Laughing at the idea of someone finding the beer in Hogsmeade too... safe, perhaps?..., Tilly wondered if this one could drink Dennis under the table. She’d heard tales about the Germans. “A professor? I know one or two of them. A few are loyal customers.” And then there had been Lukas, who’d worked there for a brief spell.

“Impress me?” Tilly blinked and grinned. “Jacoba, you’re a muggle infiltrating the Wizarding World. You’ve beyond impressed me. You’ve got the job, don’t worry!” Tilly reached out and gripped the young woman’s shoulder, eyes aglow with excitement. “You’re a godsend. I’m going to need someone who knows what a Bob Marley is when I become a miniature house.” She looked down at her own belly, however briefly, excited at the prospect. And then she looked back up at Jacoba. “Right then, breakfast!”

Rebellious little servant gremlin-thingies.  There was something strangely endearing about that idea.  In a really strange way.  "Good for them," Jacoba admitted with a grin upon hearing there were some gremlins demanding equal rights.  And, they were getting together to sing.  She'd definitely have to check that one out.  Jacoba took the album back from Tilly, tucking it under her arm to put it at the top of the listen-to-while-organizing pile.  Not to mention, looking more into these non-Galadriel-like elves.  So, Tolkein had a few things right even if the elves were a bit. Guess he had the benefit of what bits of wizard culture that still lingered in muggle folktales. 

"Who would have thought," she said with a shake of her head.  "It's like having a foreign country in your homeland.  This is just still so weird sometime."  But, she was adjusting.  Slowly.  But, steadily. 

Jacoba nodded her head as she listened to the woman's explanation (or lackthereof) about electricity and magic.  While she was still curious, she knew there was plenty about her own world she didn't understand.  Like, how did remote controls talk to the DVD player?  Or why were gummi bears so juicy when they were not wet at all?  "From what I gather, that's the kind of stuff my brother wants to get into.  Figuring out the science of all that stuff.  I don't really understand most of it - or even what he's trying to explain.  I'm not nearly - he's a smart kid."  He'd always been good in school; it was no surprise he was doing well here, as well.

"So, since you're a squid-squib, I mean, sorry," she offered, with an apologetic grin.  "You didn't go to Hogwarts.  Did you go to school with muggles?  Here in London?  They don't have a school for squibs, do they?"  How strange that must have been - and, perhaps, unnerving.  Being forced to the perimeter of a society you were expected to be a part of.  It was a situation Jacoba was rather familiar with though in a different context.  "Was that weird?  I admit, the hardest thing seems to be pretending to not know about all of this.  When I'm around other muggles, it's hard to pretend I ... don't know of any of this.  If that makes sense." 

Jacoba nodded, making a mental note to check out this joke shop figuring it'd be quite illuminating.  And, entertaining.  "Ordering by floo?  They send you food that way?"  She asked, glancing towards the shop's fireplace.  That was something she had to see.  Talk about convenience.  "Well - I'm pretty easy to please.  Bread and cheese or meat sounds good.  Or musli and coffee.  Or something." 

"Yes.  He's one of my brother's professors.  Isaac Frasier?  Teaches that introduction to blenders class. He's an interesting fellow.  I wouldn't be surprised if he shopped here."  He seemed rather proper, but independently minded as well.  It didn't seem unlikely.

Jacoba grinned broadly, clearly ecstatic about the news at having the job, obviously thrilled about the news she'd already managed to impress the woman.  "Yes, I know what a Bob Marley is.  Only regret is never getting to see him in person.  It's a shame.  But, I've got lots of stuff from the continent to drag over.  There's some stuff coming out of Holland and Sweden that's pretty awesome.  I'll be happy to ensure a steady supply of muggle tunes when you're ... distracted with time suckers." 

"Thanks," she offered with a grin.

Tilly laughed, and then shrugged. “It is like that,” she agreed, tilting her head and smiling crookedly at Jacoba. “But,” she added. “It’s where I grew up. By the time I realized I wasn’t going to Hogwarts with the rest of the kids, the muggle world was the foreign one.” And she’d grown to love it like her own. “You get used to it,” she promised. “I can show you more than one trick for doing things just as easily without a wand.” Well, there were a few she was still mastering. Something about balance, heavy objects, and ladder rungs.

“I’m not sure how much science goes into magic, but good for him!” She announced. It was beyond her. She was content devoting her life to music and simpler, smaller joys-- things which did not beg to be understood. “If he ever needs a crazy family tree with a mess of recessive genes...” She trailed off, obviously amused. She’d been poked and prodded by many a healer in her younger years. A late bloomer. That’s what they had thought at first. And then the diagnosis had come in the form of an empty window sill on her eleventh birthday. And still, they’d examined every inch, tried to discern the anomaly.

In the end, it was luck that had filled her heart. Tilly’s parents were good people, accepting people, content people. They knew the world held more important things than wands and exam scores, and for that, Tilly was grateful.

Now she wondered what it would be like in reverse. How was Jacoba’s brother getting on? And he sounded quite ambitious, quite intent on unraveling the intricacies of magic.

“So your parents... they don’t... do they not like the magic, or do they just not know?” She’d tried to gather the bits and pieces on Halloween, but it had been a busy night, and there had been distractions in the form of her own Knockturn neighbors. Whatever the circumstances, Tilly knew Jacoba was as much a peculiarity as she.

Shaking her head, and then nodding, she explained softly, kindly, and with hints of enthusiasm. “Squibs can’t go to Hogwarts. When magical children are born, the school knows about it. They keep a list. They send out letters on eleventh birthdays, inviting the children to school. Usually magic shows up long before then, though. Most commonly before age five. My parents had more or less figured it out, that I was a squib... but it was still a bit of a shock, you know, not to get the letter. Not to be sorted like they had been.” She smiled, only the smallest hint of nostalgic sadness creeping in. She had not minded as the years went on. “So, yeah, I went to muggle school. A girl’s school not far from my parent’s home. I visited them on weekends. It was nice, really... and to be honest...” She looked both ways, and then leaned humorously toward Jacoba, whispering loudly. “I probably wouldn’t have been much more of an engaging student at Hogwarts. School sort of bored me. The more brainy subjects, anyway. I always liked music, and adventure stories. And gym class, when we got to climb the ropes. I was hopeless in maths.”

She understood exactly what Jacoba had meant. “It gets easier,” she promised. “Well, maybe not easier...” She laughed. “But, you get used to it. There are little markers there to remind you. A Rolling Stones shirt instead of a Weird Sisters one, telephones and no owls. It’s not that hard after a while. The first year I was in school, though.” Tilly’s eyes widened and she shook her head. “My parents manage an owl post,” she explained. “They weren’t used to sending muggle mail. My poor roommate, she was convinced there was a nest of owls right outside our window, and that they had some sort of disease which made them function during the day. She came back from Biology once, and there was one circling above her bed. I was still in English, reading about Chaucer.” Breaking into a fit of giggles, Tilly wondered where the young woman was now, and whether her fear of fearless birds had become a permanent phobia. “Poor dear,” she added.

And then the subject turned to other forms of communication, ones more appropriate for Diagon Alley. “Well, not exactly. I mean, they could. But you can speak to them that way, place an order like on a phone. And then they can Apparate over with your order, or you can Floo over to pick it up,” she explained. “Saves quite a lot of money on gasoline and bicycle tires.”

Heading for the fire grate, Tilly patted her tummy, already convinced it was doubling in size. No longer would her mother be able to tell her your eyes are bigger than your stomach. She grinned to herself, pinched a small bit of green powder from a jar on the mantle, and tossed it into the fireplace. Green flames erupted and she recited an address. A young man in a old-fashioned busboy hat appeared. He was holding his wand, pointing it vaguely toward an order board over his shoulder. “Hello, Thomas,” she greeted. She knew nearly ever face at every eatery in a four block radius. She wondered if she could convince Dennis to take a cooking class with her, and if it were even possible to teach him to cook. Or to teach herself. “We’ll have one full English breakfast, an order of croissants, a side of bacon,” she said, going over the menu in her mind’s eyes. “Some cheese and fruit, and two large coffees.” The man nodded as the diner-style gibberish appeared on the board over his shoulder. “Oh, and a tea! And some muesli. And orange juice...” He raised a brow at her and she pursed her lips in an ironically witchy smile of sorts. “Feeding more than a couple,” she explained.

With that complete, and her stomach jumping in anticipation, Tilly patted a shabby chair beside her, beckoning Jacoba to sit down while they finished their interview-turned-conversation and waited for breakfast.

“Isaac,” she repeated, racking her brain for a face. “We do get a few teachers. Mostly the younger ones, but there are a few longtime fans,” she said, thinking of certain hippie types. “Muggle Studies?” She ventured, taking the blenders as a cue. “He probably most definitely shops here. I just haven’t asked after his profession yet.” She would have to be on the lookout now.

Tilly was always up for introducing new music to the shop and its customer base. She smiled excitedly at the prospect of Jacoba’s contributions. “This is exactly what we need,” she said encouragingly. “Thank you.”

A moment later, an inaudible pop revealed a delivery boy outside of the shop. The bells over the door jingled, and the smell of warm food snaked its way back to Tilly. She bounced up from her chair and headed for the front of Reducto, pulling out coins to pay for the hot breakfast. Taking the bags in return for the bill, she wished the delivery boy a good-day and then nodded toward the cashier’s counter, unpacking the breakfast for Jacoba and herself. “Dig in!” She announced, plucking two sets of plasticware from the portable feast.

What a brilliantly strange concept - growing up with this being the norm.  The notion brought a completely bizarre picture to the young woman's mind of little pink-clad disney princesses sitting on one side of a TV screen staring out at a movie about girls like Jacoba.  One world's fantasy being the other world's reality and then vice-versa.  It was the type of thought her old Philosophy professor would have likely been proud of.  Or, her stoned, Dutch coworker.  "That's ... just so weird.  I mean - I felt strange enough in my school in London being the weird Eastern German kid.  Compared to this that was just trivial." 

But, the reality was, Jacoba was thrilled and relieved to have met her new employer.  Meeting this magic-less native of the Wizarding World seemed to provide some strange validation for what had felt like Jacoba's own infiltration.  She'd been an outsider - she'd known that from the beginning.  But, her continued presence in London had been dependent on her ability to continue to remain there despite her lack of a wand.  There were too many bad memories associated with the London she remembered; no matter how much she loved her brother, she simply didn't want anything to do with it.  She could love him just as easily from Holland.  But, Wizarding London provided a safety net that allowed her to remain without actually, truly returning.  And, for some strange reason, seeing that this woman had successfully found her place validated Jacoba's attempts to. 

She didn't know how long this joy ride would last.  At times, she'd gotten the impression she'd only be tolerated as long as her brother was a minor.  Whether that was the truth, she didn't have a clue. "I'd love to learn any tricks you can offer," she added with a grin.  Somehow, being able to pass herself off as, at least, a squib seemed crucial to her ability to remain in this world.  And, therefore, her brother's life. 

"Me neither.  And, I wouldn't have the patience to find out," Jacoba admitted.  "My brother's got the mind for it, though.  I'm sure he'll figure out something to do with those recessive genes.  You know, he takes all the Hogwarts electives.  From what I understand, that's not too common.  And, he independently studies five muggle academic subjects.  Science and math included."  Their parents were oblivious to the full extent of their son's success - it seemed only natural that, as the big sister, Jacoba would have earned some bragging rights.  "He's a really bright kid - works too hard, though.  You should meet him some day."  There was no real reason for it, really, other than - again - wanting to play the role of the proud big sister and show him off.  "He's coming to London to do a job shadow at the Ministry for a few days." 

"To be honest, I don't really know.  I haven't really seen my brother in ... almost three years now.  And, certainly not since any of this came to light."  She scowled a moment, reminding herself about her calculations.  "Actually, he would have been at Hogwarts a year the last time I saw him but I didn't have a clue.  I still can't believe he managed that.  But - you know - I've been disowned for seven.  But, they're ... very religious.  They pretty much believe the practice of sorcery by any 'mortals' is evil.  You know - Inquisitions, burning at the stakes, that sort of thing.  They don't know but it's really for the best.  They'd ... have a fit.  And, who knows what.  And, since no one outside the immediate family knows my father's not my brother's father, that just complicates things.  I know my father won't be too keen on confessing that just to explain how he didn't produce a heathen.  Being the only boy in our generation, disowning Sasha's more complicated than disowning me was.  So, ... yeah, I don't know what would happen." 

It was complicated.  Jacoba didn't envy her brother one bit.  "Yeah - sorry - probably more information than you wanted." 

Jacoba couldn't help but make a face at the idea of reading Chaucer.  "Yeah - school was really just a reason to get away from home for me," Jacoba admitted.  "History was my thing but that was mostly to annoy my parents.  So, you went to muggle school in London?  Which one?"  Jacoba considered the woman a moment.  "And, I know it's kind of a rude question, but how old are you?  I - don't really ... I'm just curious.  Since, you know, you were more in my social group than most people I've met recently."  She couldn't imagine, though, what that must have been like for Tilly.  To have so many expectations your life would turn out one way only to have it do the exact opposite.   "I wasn't fond of math or science, either, to be honest." 

Jacoba laughed.  "Yeah, the letter my brother sent me about being a wizard came by owl.  It was ... one of the strangest things.  I can't believe the cooperate.  It's just - so strange."  Once upon a time, she probably wouldn't have been able to imagine what Tilly's roommate had felt.  But, now, she knew better.  "I thought my brother had finally cracked and had run away with a Tolkein cult or something.  It must be nice having parents that accepted it, though.  You know, not being like them?  I could just imagine what it would have been like if they hadn't.  Well, actually, I do." 

Watching the woman order food was informative and amusing not only because of the manner of ordering but because of the quantity ordered.  The goofy grin was still on the younger woman's face when Tilly turned back to her.  "You really are pregnant, aren't you?"  Jacoba settled herself in the offered chair, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet comfortably underneath her. 

"Yes - muggle studies," Jacoba confirmed, turning her attention to the recently arrived food.  Instantaneous delivery.  It was like the Jetsons - only without that made-by-computers aftertaste.  She assumed there was an aftertaste, at least.  "He's a little quirky.  But, I gather most in that field are.  Even the Eleors.  In their strange way."  Adon, at least.  Dreogan was quirky in his own unquirky way. 

"So, the party..." Jacoba asked, swallowing a piece of food in between words.  "I ... you and Maggie both were acting, you know, weird.  Any particular reason?  Was I not supposed to be there?"

Tilly blinked. She was clever, but she was not, by any stretch of the imagination, an intellectual. It seemed Jacoba’s brother was the scholastic star of the family. “I couldn’t wrap my head around the maths and biology and all that silliness on its own. Doing that on top of magic?” She shook her head, curls bouncing. “He must be a little genius. Invite him around whenever he’s on holiday!” She had to meet this kid in the flesh. Especially since Jacoba had offered. “Does he babysit?” She added, tilting her head. Better an ambitious type than a DVD boasting classical music for six-month-olds. Not that the baby wouldn’t be hearing its fair share of music. “I mean, if he’s not too busy with the five-hundred subjects and Ministry networking,” she laughed.

“Most of my friends weren’t really into their schoolwork,” she admitted, not the least bit sheepishly. “My cousin graduated, though. I’ve got some brainy ones in my family...” It seemed they were alike in that. “I always wanted to take those Hogwarts electives, too. Especially the ones that didn’t actually involve wand work. I bet I could have gotten away with it. Care of Magical Creatures and Astronomy, you know?” She laughed. “Maybe we could raise a few mandrakes down in the basement.”

Tilly had no siblings, and so knew nothing about the pains of being separated from them, but she could guess. She had grown up fairly unaware of most of her family, who did not approve of squibs clouding the genealogy. Having met Lukas and Trina after all those years, and then having to be apart when the former was presumed dead, and the latter was on constant tour, was no walk in the park. And they hadn’t even grown up together.

“It’s funny. It’s sort of the opposite here. We’re not religious, but we love our magic. People kind of... squirm when they hear I can’t do it. I dunno if you’ve noticed, being a muggle, but I’m sure you’ve had a few raised eyebrows.” She stared kindly at Jacoba. “Your brother has to be his own person, though. It seems like you’re doing just find being you. Your family will get over it one day... maybe not for a long time... or maybe never, really... but he can’t live his life trying to please them, can he? He’s only got one to live.”

There were people willing to shelter those who came from unsupportive families. Though it was rare, in Tilly’s experience, to see such a well-off, well-accomplished family willing to disown their children for magical talent. Usually it was the opposite from where she was standing. Funny, how the world worked. She had seen plenty of people in her muggle school wear the pressure of their parents’ ambitions, however. She’d been lucky her own were so easygoing. It was a rare quality, especially today, when the social standard seemed to be ‘university or bust.’

She shook her head, and reached out to take the young woman’s shoulder. “Hey, we like talk around here. Almost as much as we like to sing and bang on piano keys.” Casual as Reducto was, Tilly had a way of connecting on a deeper level with all of her casual friends. And Jacoba was proving to be possibly more than that, especially given how much they had in common in this tight-knit world of magic.

“No, not in London. I’m from Southport. I went to Greenbank. All girls, kind of stuffy, lots of competition...” She grinned. “My parents thought it was like a muggle Hogwarts. And it was very close to home, so I could visit them on weekends.” She had been more of a wild one. Not terrible, but not exactly the teachers’ pet. She’d only got on well with most of her professors because she was kind to them and had a positive attitude. Otherwise, her attention span was greater outside of the classroom. Music, sports, hands-on projects-- those had been Matilda’s forte. Oh, and climbing out dorm windows to go visit her parents, who were nearby. Or to trail rock stars in grimy local venues. Everyone had a bit of rebel in them. Perhaps even Jacoba’s brother. All the more reason to meet him!

“Twenty-four. Twenty-five in January. And don’t be silly, I’m not old enough to get mad at that question.” Not that was the type. Her mother might be, but mad wasn’t the word for Genevieve. Modest, perhaps. Coy. A blusher. Tilly took after her father, Benjy.

“A Tolkien cult... now that would be slightly upsetting,” she admitted, clearly humored as she tucked into the late breakfast. “I am! But I love food, either way. This is just an excuse to eat more...” She feigned innocence, and dug into a bit of egg. “It’s amazing how much I crave so early in, though. I always thought it was a myth from the movies. I guess it goes along with morning sickness. Luckily, I don’t have it that bad.” Some women appeared to be seasick on land. Tilly was grateful she hadn’t experienced anything quite so bad yet.

“I know the Eleors. Or, er, one of them. He comes in once in a while,” she said. “But yeah, the wizards obsessed with muggle culture are always the most fun.” Understandably. Tilly was lucky enough to work in a place where the oddballs fed off of each other, multiplied exponentially, were a revolving door of eclecticism. “I’ll have to meet this Muggle Studies professor, though. Put a name to a face.”

After a sip of juice, Tilly sighed a sigh that mingled contentment with weariness. She decided to expand on what she’d said earlier. “Well, it’s not as bad as it used to be, but like I said, we’re sort of the odd men out, you know? Muggles, squibs... we’re kind of like your brother is, unique to his own world. People can dislike what they don’t understand. I think most of them are afraid, to be honest.” She hesitated before continuing. “The last war had a lot to do with blood status. The really old Wizarding families form a sort of dying aristocracy. It used to be more pathetic than it is now.” And by pathetic, she meant more dangerous. “More turbulent. Now it’s sort of just under the radar... lots of widows in houses full of kneazles, that sort of thing. They mostly leave us alone, stick to their own little circles. But before, it was a huge source of pride, to be Pureblood, to be from old money, an old name. People arranged marriages with their cousins just keep all the talent in the family.” She rolled her eyes, reaching for a biscuit. “I mean, it still sort of is a pride issue. The Quinns for example-- my dad’s brother is a very proud man. I’ve never met him for that reason.” It was weird, really.

“You’re kind of in the same pot with me, because you haven’t a wand. Some wizards think they’re inherently better than people without magic... more evolved because they’ve skills others don’t. What they don’t realize is that they’re just living a different way. Wizards are a culture, not a separate species.”

Jacoba shook her head in a 'I don't have a clue, either' manner and shrugged her shoulders.  "I always, you know, stuck to history.  I just wasn't really that interested in school."  She was always too busy with other more social endeavors.  Usually school just got in the way of those far more important things.  Sasha, for better or worse, was her exact opposite when it came to balancing academics and commitments with social networking.  "I don't know how he does it.  I mean, I guess I do.  He's smart and ambitious and works like a bloody plow horse.  I've always wished he'd work less.  But, yeah - I'll definitely bring him by over the Christmas holidays.  He'll be traveling for a good chuck of it.  He shows.  Horses?  So, most of his holidays are spent traveling to those.  And, my parents don't really approve of my seeing him - they actually don't even know I'm back in town but I'll figure something out."

It was complicated.  Hopefully, when her brother came of age, it would become much less so. 

"My brother?  Babysit?" Jacoba asked, laughing slightly.  She didn't know why, at first, that idea was so amusing - she'd never really considered the thought of her brother around kids.  "I mean - I suppose so.  He's good with horses and dogs - not that ... I'm not saying that qualifies him.  But, from what I gather, he's pretty hands off the wizarding world when he's not at school.  He stays away from it, really. And, my parents keep him pretty busy.  I'm probably a more likely candidate." 

"Mandrake?" Jacoba asked, blankly.  "You mean ... for the fun of it?  You like gardening?"  Jacoba never fancied herself much of a gardener but she certainly wasn't going to disapprove of it.  If that was TIlly's thing.  "And, even if you couldn't do the magic - seems like you could learn the theory.  Or ... I mean, if I can floo - there's got to be more of it you could learn.  I just ... I don't know.  I'm sorry.  It just seems so strangely divided."

Tilly was right.  "I've gotten more than raised eyebrows," Jacoba admitted.  It was quite clear there were those that were less than thrilled with her continued presence in the wizarding world.  Some had shown a willingness to downright hostile.  "But, I'm not concerned.  I don't think my family will ever get over it - the most we can hope is he'll be alright when that time comes. My mum might be reasonable - I don't know.  It's - we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.  There are a lot of people who I know would help.  Isaac, the Eleors.  It's actually pretty remarkable.  We're pretty lucky.  It'll work out."  Of that, Jacoba was confident.  Even in those worst case scenarios that ran through her mind, it seemed there was always help to be had.

"A muggle Hogwarts?  Isn't that like an oxymoron?"  Of course, if her parents were wizards, it seemed an obvious assumption.  This was just another one of those cross-culture-barrier thingies.  "So, you would have been out of school anyway."  Even if they would have gone to the same school, their social circles were unlikely to cross.  "Well, I didn't know," Jacoba said, sharing Tilly's amusement despite offering her own, good-natured defense.  "I was sitting there in my little farmhouse room, minding my own business when this owl flies in my window and gives me a piece of parchment.  Real honest to goodness parchment.  And, my brother tries to explain he's a 'wizard.'  A weird cult seemed the most likely. What a weird world." 

Subconsciously, Jacoba's gaze shifted to Tilly's abdomen before glancing up at the woman with a soft grin.  What a weird, strange, potentially terrifying idea.  Jacoba really had no idea what she'd do if she woke up one morning and discovered she was pregnant.  Other than freak.  Which was a highly possible option.  "So, you really aren't scared?"  The question bubbled forth before Jacoba could think better of it.  Perhaps it had come from that voice of the girl who, just a few months ago had still been in her teens.  "And - do you all, are you able to tell sooner what it is?  Boy or girl?  Are you hoping either way?"  Of course, she expected the typical 'as long as its healthy' answer but most still seemed to have particular wishes. 

"Which?  Dreogan or Adon?"  This seemed like a place either would take business to.  However, after having lived with both, if Jacoba were to try to picture which was most likely to be browsing the music bins, one definitely came more readily to mind.  "From what I understand, it isn't easy for Professors to get away but he might come by to visit.  I'll have to request it."

"It's ridiculous.  I don't get why humans are unable to learn that lesson."  The discrimination.  The this-makes-one-person-better-than-others ridiculousness.  She didn't get it - never got it - even despite her family being far from free from it themselves.  "I know I'm kind of the outsider here - I get that - I just don't get how - you're not an outsider.  But, I ... I gave up trying to understand people like that.  But, at least it sounds like - we're ... you're not really in any danger, right?  I mean - let them be closed-minded as long as they don't bother us.  Nobody's tried to do anything?"

“He shows horses over his holidays?” Tilly quirked a brow. She’d heard of rockstars being on the road (or sky) for years on end. But a fifteen-year-old boy who had enough on his plate with exams and demanding parents? “Well, if it’s something he loves, more power to him. But we should get him some nice, tranquil music... loosen him up a bit, teach him to breathe...” Tilly’s mind was already racing. Relaxation was a favorite pastime, and teaching people the art had always been a pleasure. “Maybe your parents will listen to you now that you’re a bit older,” she suggested, trying to look at the bright side.

The young woman laughed, and nodded. “Oh, don’t worry, you’re already on my hit-list.” Of babysitters, that was. “I’ve learned finding sitters is apparently more of a task than hiring new employees.” She winked. “My friend Quincy-- bless her-- she’s rather militant about who watches the kids. But I guess that’s what being a parent is all about.”

She shrugged and reached for a napkin, wiping her mouth before pouring juice. “Never really gave it a proper try, beyond a few plants in my windowsill. But why not, right?” There was a first time for everything. Like motherhood. “Magic requires a wand-- even wandless magic. You have to have the power to wield a wand to go without it. In British culture, anyway. But sure, there are inventions we can use, just like there are muggle things wizards can master. I don’t know what I would do without cleaning potions and alphabetizing quills,” she laughed. “But even if I say and read the theory behind a Summoning Charm until I was blue in the face...” She trailed off and shook her head. There was only the saddest glimmer in her eyes, coupled with a much more obvious amusement. Nostalgia.

Tilly was glad Jacoba was taking the initiative to dive headfirst into their world, to look out for her little brother. She’d sometimes wanted siblings to do the same for her. Only, in reverse. What if she’d had a brother? What if he was a wizard? Would it be harder, or easier?

Tilly could understand. “If I hadn’t been raised in a mostly muggle town, I probably wouldn’t have known what a car was until I figured out I wasn’t invited to Hogwarts,” she admitted. “Luckily my parents made sure to integrate me into both worlds even before they knew I was a squib.” There were perks to living in a place where post owls could be easily sent to all bordering countries.

“Oh, Merlin, I was terrified,” she laughed, pulling her juice away from her lips and grinning. “I’m still a bit scared, but I’m excited, too. I guess I...” She paused, considering it. “I haven’t really though about it. I’m still getting over the shock of having a baby. And wondering whether it’ll be a wizard. But girl or boy... hmm...” It was a good question. “I suppose a mini Dennis would be cute, wouldn’t it? We could always have more later.” A chill ran up her spine, and down again. “Mmm, I think there are ways to tell, yeah. Potions and what not.” Should she buy one? Find out and surprise Dennis? Ask him if he wanted to know first? “I’m taking bets,” she added, her brows tangoing.

Dreagon or Adon?

“Adon I know by name. He had a brief... I don’t know, really... with my cousin. And he’s in here once in a while looking for music. I’d know the other one if I saw him, I think, but not as well.” She grinned. “And as for the professors, I’m sure they have a bit of time on weekends.”

Tilly took a bite of bread, hot and delicious, and nodded in agreement. She’d lucked out, hiring this one. Jacoba was quickly proving to be exactly what they all needed, a new surge of progressive energy to brighten everyone’s spirits and get them thinking before the holidays rolled around and the alley became crowded with muggleborns and old aristocracy alike.

“Anything here? Like, anything dangerous?” Tilly tilted her head. “No... not yet. We’ve had some threats, sure. And some nasty words, letters even, when Phil retired and left me in charge. But we’re lucky. Some of our regular business partners have connections to high society. It’s terrible to admit, but I think that sort of acts as a shield at times.”

"Yeah," Jacoba confirmed with a nod, getting comfortable in her seat with a plate of food.  That whole ordering through the floo thing was, definitely, quite convenient.  Very Star Trek or Jetsons.  All they needed were a few colorful buttons to push.  "He's got a pretty full schedule - think he said they've got him in four over the winter break.  I know he loves riding but I'm not sure he's into the showing that much."  It was family obligation that drove the relentless show schedule. 

Jacoba smiled weakly and shook her head.  Age had nothing to do with her relationship with her parents.  Nor maturity, really.  "Nah - The chances of my parents and I ever being civil around each other is pretty much nil.  And, when they find out about my brother, that'll only make it worse."  It was going to be the two of them out and, somehow, Jacoba was convinced they'd blame her for this. 

"I would love to babysit."  Not to mention, any spare source of income would be most welcome.  She wasn't in a hurry to get out on her own and rent her own place but - well - at some point Adon was bound to get tired of her invasion.  Perhaps it was old insecurities from her days at home but Jacoba couldn't help wondering if she really was the best choice if one was being militant but she supposed everyone's criteria was different. The father was a rock star, after all.

"So, how do you not be jealous?"  Jacoba asked, hoping the question didn't seem too inappropriate.  At times, it had proven hard to not be jealous of Sasha and she'd just been introduced to the world.  Jacoba couldn't imagine growing up around it and ... watching all your friends go off to Hogwarts and having to always tell everyone you were squib.  "I've got to admit, on a few occasions the last month, I've found myself wishing my mother had had an affair a few years earlier, too.  My brother really lucked out there, it seems."  In the world of genetic and cheating lotteries, it seemed her brother had won big. 

Jacoba's gaze slipped, again, down to Tilly's abdomen before shaking her head.  "I couldn't imagine."  She'd be petrified out of her mind.  Of course, their situations were different.  Tilly wasn't homeless nor was she, at least until this morning, jobless.  Jacoba didn't know from personal experience but she expected both those factors made a huge difference when it came to judging the relative gut-tying response to finding out one was pregnant.  "If it'll be a wizard?  You mean, it might be a squib, too?"  Well, if one were going to be a squib, this was probably the family to be a squib in.  "A boy could be fun.  I suppose, the stereotype is they are more trouble than girls but that certainly wasn't the case in my family.  My brother was the easy child."  They'd learned from their mistakes with Jacoba and started training him early.

A small smile graced Jacoba's features as she nodded her head.  "He's a neat guy," she admitted, referring to Adon.  "I've been crashing at his place while I figure out where I'm going and what I'm doing and everything."  Which, in reality, had been a constant state for most of her life.  Stability was a rare creature in her world. 

"Well, the best rebellion is to keep plugging along, right?" Jacoba asked.  She couldn't help but think that any of those nasty words or letters were just excellent motivation for selling more and more records.  It was civil disobedience at its finest.  Pausing a moment to take a bite, she shook her head, trying to ignore the 'not yet' tagged into the middle of that statement.  "I mean, if you let them change our behavior with their bullying, they win, right?"  She paused to take a sip of juice before glancing around the shop with a broad grin.  She had a job.  It wasn't exactly a high powered career but that was okay.  Having a job - a source of income ... even if it was in ...

That's right.  "So - I'm assuming you all deal in those galleons and such.  But, the bank here will exchange it, if we need to ... you know ... shop in London?"

Tilly tried to keep the smile on her face. It was sad, though, to hear how many hoops her brother jumped through to pleased his parents. Matilda was thankful she’d never been forced into anything by her own parents, who had the reverse situation of a non-magical child on their hands. (Not that Jacoba’s father knew about her brother’s other talents). What about a childhood? Didn’t children have them anymore?

Well there was one child who was going to have one; Tilly was hellbent on that.

She sighed, nodding slowly. “I know what you mean. Half of my father’s family want nothing to do with me... but hey, there’s always the off chance...” She shrugged. “You’ll just have to make your own family. And keep your brother in a bear hug!”

The first thing that came to mind when Tilly thought about babysitters was... babies. And then she thought about responsibility. And then she thought about... babies again. They were children! They needed to have fun. Jacoba seemed that perfect blend of fun and someone willing to take charge. It was a good deal, really. Even if the kid wouldn’t be popping out to say hello for several months yet.

Picking up a hot roll, she laughed. “Oh I’m not not jealous... I mean, if I could pick up a wand and have magic today, I’d take it! But I think everything happens for a reason, and even if this is a challenge-- to live here and watch everyone else cast spells, and not be able to- I feel lucky. There are a lot of things I can do that my parents can’t, and they’ve lived in a muggle town for twenty-five years.”

“It was worse when I was a kid,” she added, musing over the past, her mouth serene and her eyes seeming to momentarily stare into a vortex that wasn’t really there. “All the little ones liked to taunt and show-off. And I felt so... weird.” It was never easy, being the odd one out. “But now I like being weird. I mean, I think I work in a place that invites weirdness,” she laughed. “But I definitely get what you mean. If its any consolation, you’re welcome to meet my parents... they’re a witch and wizard.” Well, obviously.

If Tilly’s memories of Biology class served her, she was sure she’d escaped to her dorm afterward and recopied the Dominant-Recessive, replacing genetic squares like widow’s peaks and blue eyes with magic and magicless.

“It could be. I must carry the gene, right? But it’s really, really unusual. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a squib birthing a squib, not with a wizard in the mix.” Dennis might have been muggleborn, but his magic was still dominant. Not to mention, his brother had been a wizard, too.

“I definitely got into some trouble, too,” she laughed. “I think kids in general are troublemakers at some point in their lives. Now that’s a dominant gene.” And if one had Dennis and Tilly as parents, it was bound to multiply.

She was glad, too, that this particular rebel had found her way into Tilly’s life. It was a nice change of pace, and for all its historical charm, Reducto was anything but static. Jacoba’s apparent ease with living day to day, and not having a particular plan in that nervous way so many adults did, was refreshing. She seemed content to live with a near-stranger, and enthusiastic about getting to know him. And everything else about wizarding culture.

“Oh, yeah, Gringotts does plenty of business in pounds and pence.” That was one thing that required no magic. “Money is money is money.”