Hogsmeade welcomed Gwydion back like an old friend who has been caught by surprise by the ringing of the doorbell, hands encrusted with cookie dough, an astonished expression on his face at the sight of the unexpected visitor.

Gwydion smiled, inhaling the scents of cinnamon and vanilla wafting through the small town, and set foot upon the main street of Hogsmeade, an unexpected visitor who is nevertheless confident that he will receive a warm welcome once the host has had time to wash the dough off his hands.

Snow was falling in soft, thick flakes, melting into Gwydion´s curly grey hair. The houses looked much smaller than he remembered them, the street barely broad enough for two coaches to pass by one another; funnily enough, in his memory, all of the Hogwarts populace fit neatly onto the length of the main street, with plenty of space to spare.

Not that the streets were empty now. Far from it, actually; they were bustling with life, children running around, wizards and witches strolling idly along or standing around in groups chatting, their hands wrapped around mugs with punch or tea, faint music filling the air. The Winter Festival was in full swing.

It was a pity that Gwydion hadn´t heard about the Festival earlier. He had come back from Peru a week ago, but only yesterday had he bothered to open a paper, and that was when he learned that there was a Festival going on at Hogsmeade. He hadn´t been back to the little wizarding town since his graduation. There simply hadn´t been anything of interest there, and Gwydion wasn´t a person who would get sentimental value from revisiting the stations of his boyhood. Still, it was somehow nice to be back, to walk the streets he had run along so often as a student. There was Zonko´s, whose owner he knew well since he sold them some of his stuff now and again; he refrained from going in to say hello, after all he was a competitor of sorts, since he planned to open a booth... And then there was Honeydukes, and the Post Office, and the little café where they used to serve the best milkshakes, as if Gwydion had left just yesterday and aged 25 years overnight, while the town remained untouched by time and age, merely shrinking a bit, but otherwise unchanged.

When he felt he was far enough from Zonko´s, Gwydion stopped and set down his backpack. Extracting a small piece of cloth on a frame, he held it close to his mouth and blew on it, and the fabric and the frame stretched and grew to a comfortable tent. A small girl, about five or six, observed the process with a frown. Gwydion smiled at her and held a finger to his lips, as if asking her to keep a secret, before entering the tent. For a while noises could be heard, a clanking and rattling and the tinkling of bells, and a whistled melody.

Then, the side of the tent that went towards the street opened up and revealed a wonderland of toys and picture books and strange-looking items, scattered across the table in the front, displayed on shelves in the back or hanging from invisible hooks. There were stuffed animals that looked incredibly real, a pile of building bricks that changed colour every few seconds; books on a special shelf were whispering their stories to one another, their pages rustling quietly; at the far left of the table, a group of dolls were having a tea party, while not far from them toy soldiers were planning an attack on the unsuspecting dolls; above Gwydion´s head, nine tiny witches were chasing each other on brooms, a mobile of sorts, but without strings; there were crystal spheres containing colourful splashes of firework, flutes that would pick up any melody and repeat it by themselves, masks and children´s brooms and Quidditch cards and all sorts of lucky charms and hundreds of other things, one more fascinating than the next.

The small girl who had patiently waited for the booth to open up took in the sight of all those wondrous things with wide open eyes. Gwydion plucked a pink-and-yellow striped flower from a vase and handed it to her with a flourish. As soon as the girl clasped her fist around the stem, the upper part of the flower went poof and transformed into a bird that spread its wings and flew off with a trill. The girl squealed with delight and ran off to look for her brothers and drag them to the toymaker´s booth.

The booth was beginning to draw attention, people were coming closer, eyeing his merchandise curiously; Gwydion gave them a friendly nod.

"Good evening. How can I help you?"

If he squinted, it would have been easy to take the streets of Hogsmeade for a idyllic Muggle Christmas card come to life.  With snow drifting down from overhead and children scampering through the newly whitened streets, wafting scents of spices and pomanders intermingling with musical strains in the air, all it needed was a cheery red-robed figure to complete the scene.   Jonas imagined that he knew at least one individual at the Ministry who might have practice playing the role, but even without Santa's jolly presence, the atmosphere was unmistakable. 

The private investigator had never been one for Christmas music - he usually wanted to claw his ears out a week into December, at which point he refused to turn on the radio or go anywhere even resembling a public shopping center unless on pain of death - but it was hard not to get caught up in the scene.  It was like stepping back into his childhood, and the eerie feeling that came with a return to Hogsmeade did little to dissuade his senses that he was twelve years old again.  Jonas even found himself whistling along to one of the songs, until he caught himself and remembered to look properly annoyed again.  It wouldn't do to publicly endorse this sort of thing.

Getting to Hogsmeade had been a bit of a challenge, but it had been worth it to secure a few odd items that he hadn't been able to find in Diagon.  After he had completed his errand, he had stopped off at The Three Broomsticks for old time's sake, but still had an hour or two to waste before he needed to be back in London later that evening. 

Wandering through the Festival was proving to be the perfect way to occupy his time.  Jonas meandered carefully in and out of the crowd, dragging his pace, keeping a careful eye on the ground for any slick spots as he picked his way down the frozen streets.  He'd rarely had an opportunity to enjoy the Winter Festival as a student at Hogwarts; it had usually begun just about the time that the Hogwarts Express was returning to London, so most of the sights were intriguingly new.  He took a moment to marvel at some ice sculptures that appeared to be partially under construction, and then began to slowly make his way back to the pub and its fireplace, absently examining the vendor booths as he ambled by.

One tent in particular caught his eye.  Though most of the other vendors looked as if they had been settled for days, the bloke looked as if he were just getting set up now, the front of his stall unfolding to reveal a display that probably matched every child's dream, magical or not.  Intrigued, Jonas paused to watch it settle, his eyebrows raising as he watched the toy seller hand a flower to a young girl, which promptly transformed into a fluttering bird.

That did it.  Tucking his hands into his pockets, the private investigator adjusted his course, limping carefully over to the toy maker's stall to examine his wares.

Waiting until the last minute to purchase presents had become something of an annual tradition in the Trevelyan household.  It had driven Anna crazy, particularly because no matter how many times she'd warned him that the date was getting close, he refused to put any effort into finding gifts until the last few days.  It had resulted in a few unfortunately memorably tear-filled Christmas mornings, even after Jonas had, under Anna's most threatening glare, annually committed to pulling Gwenna or Artie aside and guiltily explaining that Santa unfortunately had to save the best presents for the boys and girls who didn't have families or homes or nice dinners on Christmas, and didn't they want them to have a good holiday too?

Unfortunately, after The Great Santa Explanation Debacle of two years before, that excuse was unlikely to work anymore.  Saint Nick definitely lost leverage as a tool of emotional manipulation once his non-existence had been revealed to the present-craving masses.  Sighing, Jonas stopped a few paces short of the display, keeping an eye out for any children plowing through as he thoughtfully looked over the showcased wares.

The toy seller appeared to have settled himself; he had turned his attention to the growing crowd of potential customers, greeting them with a nod.  "Good evening. How can I help you?"

Jonas glanced up, and - once he was sure that there was no one else over twelve about that the vendor could have been addressing - flashed the man a quick smile.

"Just looking," he replied in a good natured tone.  "Got a couple of kids I still have to find a present for, so I thought I'd browse through.  Not bad," he added, swiping a finger at the toy soldiers, who were nearly knocked over by the surprise attack.  Scrambling, they whirled around, bumping into each other as they awkwardly shifted to guard their flank against another assault.  "You make all these yourself?"

The Winter Holidays had always been something to get excited about. Dahlia and her brother and sister were likely to be found awake at five in the morning on Christmas day waiting for the time when they could come out of their rooms and open their presents. Normally the Holidays brought cheer and good will to Dahlia's heart but this year was far from reaching those expectations. Even after Eirene's birthday party Ayla was still refusing to forgive her for the blow up at the older girl's birthday party. Her own twin was basically under house arrest, she had no idea what Erik had done this time but it had been enough for their parents to not allow him out of the house during the holidays. Along with Erik out of commission the Collins parents had decided that Ayla was old enough to make her own decisions and so the fourteen year had been spending practically her entire holidays somewhere in Diagon which meant that for the first time in twelve years Dahlia was spending her holidays alone.

It hadn't taken much for Dahlia to get permission to come to the Winter Festival. Joseph was bringing Miranda into Hogsmeade yet again to show off how wonderful the holidays were in the Wizarding World and Dahlia was left to her own devices. As she wandered down High Street she wondered if she'd be able to track down either Venora or Serenity Lee, there were certainly enough Hogwarts students around that it wasn't such a far stretch to think that either of her best friends would be here enjoying the festivities.

As Dahlia walked passed the many booths selling various wares one in particular caught her attention. Now that she was twelve Dahlia deemed herself to be too old to play with toys and wanted to focus on her studies but she couldn't ignore the allure that this particular shop provided. Growing up, Dahlia's toys had been strictly of the muggle variety and while there was nothing wrong with that, especially considering all her friends played with muggle toys, the younger Collins girl couldn't help but be envious of Ayla. Apparently when Ayla was the only child she had been showered with wizarding toys and gifts as a way to introduce her to Joseph's expansive pureblood family as well as make Miranda comfortable in the wizarding world. Dahlia wasn't quiet sure how or why it had happened but after the twins were born their mother had forbidden all magic from being performed in the house. Ayla had once told her that it was due to Erik being such a brat, their parents were afraid that he would exposed them as wizards and they'd have to move far far away.

Dahlia approached the display of dolls enjoying a tea party. A faint smile was crossing her lips as the dolls greeted her, many of them waved while a few of the more elaborately dressed dolls actually rose and gave her flourishing curtsies. Dahlia was not only fascinated because they were so much like the muggle Barbie dolls that she had when she was younger but the fact that the inanimate objects were charmed into life was bringing out her studious side. She was desperate to know what kind of enchantments the shop owner had performed to make the dolls have minds of their own.

She moved passed the display to where Gwydion was addressing Jonas. She watched the interaction briefly waiting for an appropriate time for her to make an interruption. She looked to Jonas with a polite smile and spoke clearly, her Canadian accent only slightly tainted with a London commoners one, "Sorry for the interruption sir," She looked up to him with as cute of a smile as she could produce completely unaware of the sight she had provided for him. Although Dahlia's long flowing hair was dark, almost black, there was no mistaking the family resemblance. Much like her older sister Dahlia was practically the spitting image of her mother, who looked almost identical to her own older sister. Miranda and Eve had often been thought to be twins and so when Eve had daughters of her own, the youngest looked just like her and in turn just like Miranda and her two daughters. So while the Private Investigator may not know why he was now being approached by a four foot ten dark haired version of his personal assistant Lexus, who as fate would have it was Dahlia's older cousin, it would be quite a surprise indeed.

Unaware of the sudden coincidence she had provided Dahlia then turned to the shop keeper, "Who does it work?" Fearing she may not have been specific enough she then added, "What do you cast to make them like that?"

“I sure do”, Gwydion replied to the man´s inquiry. He took special pride in making all of his items himself. In fact, he was rather fond of the muggle method of using one´s hands and technical understanding rather than wandwork, especially for the finer details. There was no charm that could surpass a device as perfect as a simple gear wheel. Of course, in the end those were magical toys, so he did use a certain amount of magic in making them, but he felt that a combination of methods was exactly what made his items robust and, ultimately, unique.

“A couple of kids, eh? How old are they? I have stuffed animals and picture books for the small ones, all sorts of dolls, board games and - oh, well, just a lot of stuff for ages six and up; and there are Quidditch cards and charmed diaries and magical darts for the teenagers... though what teenagers want most of all is a really good broom, I suppose. Now I can´t help with that, but I do have toy brooms for the youngsters, hovering no more than a hand span above the ground, charmed to stay in close proximity to the parents.”

He pointed out the items he was describing, opening up a book or winding up a semi-mechanical tin soldier for better demonstration. Then he shot the man a smile, almost apologetic. He talked too much, didn´t he always, the poor man hadn´t even had a chance to say what exactly he was looking for, or what his children might be interested in.  However, Gwydion had noticed something else about him, and curious and utterly tactless as he was, he couldn´t help but comment on it.

“Have you ever considered using a cane? I know someone who makes really good ones... wandmaker, actually, but he has experimented with canes too, and those he makes can correct even a much worse limp than yours. He should know, his one leg is shorter than the other. Gave him the idea to make a cane in the first place, and now his limp is hardly noticeable. In fact, people think he´s a bit of a dandy for carrying that cane all the time.”

"Sorry for the interruption sir.”

Gwydion turned his attention to the girl, signaling his customer with a raised finger that he would be right back with him. 

 "What do you cast to make them like that?"

An impish grin appeared on Gwydion´s lips. “Wouldn´t you like to know,” he chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. People always wanted to know his secrets, as if his magic were somehow different, more mysterious than the regular magic they encountered every day or worked themselves.

“I´m sorry, I cannot tell you that. However, if you´re still interested in a few years, seek me out as soon as you´ve finished school and I´ll take you up as an apprentice. Then you can learn all my secrets. Deal?”

He was serious, of course. He´d had several apprentices over the years, and he always enjoyed having young people around, teaching them his craft and learning stuff from them in return - that was, Gwydion found, the best way of staying up to date. Even if the magical world did not turn nearly as fast as the muggle world, what with the mind-numbingly rapid technical progress they were having, wizards did not tread on the same spot for centuries either; a lot of the things that students learnt in school these days were definitely different than what he had been taught back in the seventies. Gwydion was by no means convinced that the education he had received was state of the art and could not be topped, like most adults seemed to think; he wasn´t above letting a kid show him how things were done nowadays.

outfit

Winter festivals seemed to come and go on a regular annual basis and well, Gabrielle had gone to many different ones over the many years in her lil’ ol’ life. They ranged from the ones here in Hogsmeade as well the ones in London, a few in the United States (of which they really were odd for the fact that she had gone to some in the South a few years ago), then of course, the ones in Romania had been absolutely stunning, not to mention they seemed the most traditionalistic in some manners. She had decided to go to this festival in the hopes of getting her mind cleared out from a long week at work – pranksters galore had been keeping her department working along with the law enforcement department. It seemed some things never changed, but then again. . . a part of her felt amused in seeing some of wizardry’s best attempts to show their abilities. The snow was gladly welcomed, but then again, she was opting out to wear her gloves fingerless rather than covered. What a really intelligent idea, really.

Her eyes were glancing at the various booths that seemed to vary from the simple to the extreme outrageous – the ice sculpture booth was something she hoped to come back to and perhaps try her luck. After all, she knew a few things here and there about the way to work with cold materials. She felt quite at ease being here since she knew Hogwarts was only a few moments away. Gabrielle's heart pounded happily at the mere thought of the school that had given her both triumphs and tragedies, but mainly triumphs. Little did she know that this excursion would lead her back to an encounter with a former lover.

Gabrielle finally arrived in the midst of where Gwydion was selling his wares -- if only her eyes had looked over and seen a puppet that was very similar to ones that she knew Gwydion had made her. Gabrielle . . .oh, Gabrielle! Che Bella! Her ears perked up at such a sound -- it was faint but clearly feminine in speech. Her eyes soon followed to find where the voice had come from. The voice spoke once again, only this time a bit louder. Her eyes landed then to the puppet shop and saw the puppet motioning their hands to come over. No, it couldn't be -- she hadn't seen the man before her in many years. Well, three to be exact - after all, the law enforcement went after him and she to clean up his messes.

Hello, hello! He's busy, mind you! Gabie felt tears rising in her eyes - it was Gertrude or as Gwydion and her called Gertie. Her lips began to form and speak to the doll, but then it seemed a bad idea because it could easily look like she was crazy. "Gertie?" she finally said in a low whisper and the doll giggled. Ja, fraulein! Her eyes looked to Gwydion and said nothing for her heart pounded even harder than what it had thinking about Hogwarts.

Then, she finally said it. "Gwyn?"

The enchanted toys really were ingenious, judging by the way that children were already flocking to the stand.  The most ingenious thing about them, Jonas realized - feeling quite proud of himself for doing so - was that the magic, though present, could easily be taken for sufficiently advanced technology. 

It was like the classic sociological conundrum in reverse.  Electronics and computers had become so advanced and so widespread over the years that it was all parents could do to marvel at their children's play things.  Jonas's generation might have grown up entertaining themselves with balls, blocks, and board games, but if a toy today couldn't say at least one hundred and fifty things in three different languages, it was automatically considered not stimulating and boring.  Artie already owned a talking puffball that was capable of carrying on entire conversations with the vocabulary of a three-year-old (or at least it had been capable of carrying on entire conversations, up until it had scared Jonas half to death one night after he had gotten home late and stepped on it - in a fit of inspired revenge, he had taken all of its batteries out).  Gwenna had begged and begged one year for a baby doll that burped and giggled on its own (which, Jonas had realized belatedly at the time, she had fortunately not wanted because of any sort of early maturation of her maternal instincts, but because it cried when you bit it, which made it the perfect victim to terrorize once her younger brother was off limits).

Of course, Quidditch cards were obviously out since his children wouldn't understand them, and Jonas didn't quite think he could get away with a hovering toy broom, but he was willing to bet that he could take home any of a half-dozen other toys and not even get an odd second look.  He was feeling quite pleased with himself, and had just been about to open his mouth to ask what the toy maker suggested for a ten-year-old monster and a six-year-old hopefully-soon-to-be non-warlike citizen, when the bloke plowed on, not even stopping for a breath.

It was if he had been slugged.  Jonas clenched his teeth, his shoulders tensing, as he kept a smile on his face.  It did not come anywhere close to his eyes.

"Yeah, that's a thought," he said, his voice flat.  "Imagine that.  All this time and there's the solution right in front of me, then."

He was saved from making any further pointed observations - like maybe the fact that he was fine without a cane, and that he had gotten along perfectly well for years with a limp and no complaints, thanks, and what was it with wizards and picking on that with him? - by a young girl who approached to ask the toy maker some questions.

Normally, Jonas wouldn't have paid her any attention, but the flat sound of her accent caught his ear.  He'd grown used to Lexus's way of speaking, and he even half-imagined that he could tell the different from her Canadian voice and the indistinguishable American dialects he heard on television.  Frowning, he turned a thoughtful eye to the girl, taking her in.  Did all Canadians really look that much alike?  He had thought that sort of thing happened in the American South, not Canada.

"It'll take less time than you'd think," he put in, giving the girl a tight smile.  A woman nearby seemed to be having a conversation with one of the toy maker's puppet, but he politely did his best to give her her privacy.  "Getting through school.  Might have to come back over here to visit again if you want to come on as an apprentice, though, won't you?"

Dahlia's smile faultered when Gwydion refused to give up his tricks but she wasn't about the whine about it either. It was like a muggle magician, what a strange concept to think about now knowing that magic was real, who refused to tell the audience how he had performed his magic. For muggles it was all smoke and mirrors, trick of the eye, sleight of the hand. She supposed it wasn't much different for the toy maker. If he wanted to stay in business he needed to keep his secrets. Dahlia hadn't meant anything by it really she was just so eager to learn new things that she wasn't ashamed to ask the man to give up his money making designs.

Her smile returned ten fold when he mentioned her coming back as an apprentice, sure it wouldn't be for another six years but she didn't mind, it just meant she would be smarter then and more experienced, "Deal." She nodded as if it were a binding contract. Dahlia had never really thought about what she would do after school, she had just been so excited to be starting school in the first place but being taken on as someone's apprentice was definitely up there in her top five professions. There was so much you could learn when you became someone's shadow. Every person had their own way of doing things and Dahlia was eager to know how Gwydion did what he did.

"Although we don't have to wait for me to be done school to be honest. I could do a summer apprenticeship, I am one of the brightest witches in my year and I wouldn't be a pain, I promise." She was completely unaware of how much she sounded like a child. She was purposing a perfectly logical business opportunity. Dahlia was smart there was no denying that and she had already been able to perform spells that most second or third years couldn't. Her ministry tutor had once called a 'right lil Hermione Granger'.

When Jonas spoke up Dahlia turned her full attention to him, feeling it impolite if she was to look elsewhere. She nodded along with his assessment, "I hope it doesn't go by too fast though. I'm planning on learning everything I can. I might even see if I can take extra classes. There's no sense in going to school if you're not going to learn to your full potential. Can you believe some sixth and seventh years are only taking like five subjects? It's preposterous just to think about. How are they ever going to succeed if they don't push themselves?"

Being straightforward and sensible at the same time was not a contradiction when it came to Gwydion. He noticed the man´s flat tone and annoyed expression and sighed inwardly. Another one he´d inadvertently offended. He never meant to; he had just never figured out what was an appropriate topic of conversation and what wasn´t... the way Gwydion saw it, as long as there were words for something, he was going to use them. A limp was a limp, it wasn´t going to go away if he acted like it wasn´t there. Of course, it was entirely possible that there was a painful history behind that limp which the guy didn´t like to be reminded of, meaning that it had indeed been a major lapse addressing the man´s handicap in such a careless manner. Oh well. Gwydion wasn´t perfect, and he would be the first to admit this.

“Sorry, man. Me and my big mouth, eh? I didn´t mean to be rude, I -”

“Gwydion, shut up!”

One of the puppets hanging on invisible strings in the corner was pointing at him with a stiff wooden arm. It then doubled over theatrically and cackled loudly. Gwydion´s mouth twisted into a crooked smile. Cocking one eyebrow, he said “All right, all right... I was just about to apologize, you know.”

The puppet only sniggered in response. With mock irritation, Gwydion threw a cloth over it (the puppet wriggled under it, but could not free itself) and turned back to his customer, but the man appeared to be in conversation with the young girl, and interrupting would have been rude again, so he let it be. Apparently he had missed the chance to respond to the girl´s offer, too... not that he could take her up on it, she was a little too young to go traveling around with him, even for a month or two. That was what he did over the summer, travel; as a matter of fact, he was on the road more or less the whole time, only now and then did he come back to England to stay for a longer period of time, and that was never foreseeable - he liked to decide things on a whim, pack up his stuff and go whenever he felt the itch. With an apprentice, you couldn´t do that so easily, not if the kid was underage at any rate and needed his or her parents´ consent. Which was why Gwydion preferred taking on apprentices who had already graduated. He could tell the young witch that after she had finished her conversation though.

"Gwyn?"

The voice was a mere whisper, a breeze in his back, nothing more, but he recognized it instantly. Not many people called him Gwyn either. It made his heart skip a beat out of sheer surprise - or, to be fair, excitement -, an almost painful sensation. It would have been a lie to claim that he hadn´t thought of her when he had first contemplated coming back, toyed with the idea of paying her a visit, no, been determined to go see her immediately, or at least soon upon his return. Needless to say that he wouldn´t have done it in the end. Most likely, he would have put it up until he´d feel so restless that he´d have to leave again. Feeling regret and relief at the same time, he would have told himself that he´d just go see her the next time when he was in the country - whenever that would be.

But well. Life never worked out as planned. Especially since Gwydion did not plan life in the first place. That way, it never ceased to surprise him.

Even before he turned around, her voice had conjured up such a vivid image of her in his mind that for a moment, it was like he was seeing two Gabrielles when he finally faced her, the one he remembered from their last encounter and the one now standing before him. It was essentially the same woman, only her clothes were different than the summer clothes she had worn that August day, and she had done something with her hair...

For a moment, it seemed as though Gwydion were drawing back, but then he stood outside on the street a second later, having merely ducked through the backside of the tent and gone round to the front. Putting his hands on her shoulders, he looked into her face with a bright smile.

"Gaby. I told you, you should stop that. They´re gonna catch you one day, you know. Then you´ll be a criminal, just like me."

It was a running gag they had going - Gwydion had it going, actually, Gaby was merely the recipient. He always told her how the Ministry was bound to discover that she used illegal magic to make herself ever younger, while everyone around her aged. And now, as she was standing before him, he wondered for a fraction of a second whether there might be any truth to it - not to the illegal thing, naturally, but whether she did use any magical tricks to look eternally beautiful. It wasn´t that she looked unchanged - there were some small creases around her eyes that hadn´t been there three years ago, if he wasn´t mistaken - it was rather that her beauty did not lessen with age, quite the contrary. Suddenly he thought he had a vague idea as to why he never went through with his plans of visiting her... and yet, now that she was here, at arm´s length, he felt sincere joy.

"It´s good to see you", he said, and it was.

They hadn´t parted in the best of ways; Gwydion had, like so many times, gotten himself in trouble with the Ministry (it said a lot about their relationship that Gaby probably remembered the whole incident much more clearly than Gwydion did), and Gaby had been forced to confiscate some of his items in order to be able to let him go with the proverbial slap on the wrist. He had considered it best to turn his back to England for a while after that. Not that he blamed Gaby, not in the least; she had done what she could to help him, and it hadn´t been the first time either. She was a good friend really. It was only that Gwydion hadn´t proved to be such a good friend to her, not with all the trouble he caused.

Except he wasn´t causing any right now, his conscience, so far, was clear as the pure white snow that was currently falling from the sky in soft flakes.

"So what have you been up to?"

Gwydion did not care in the least that there were more and more customers gathering round his booth. They could wait, and if they couldn´t, tough luck. He was busy catching up with an old friend.

She had really no expectations, truthfully, for him to engage her so warmly – in fact, she expected simply a ‘hello’ or something of that nature. Though three years had taken the two of them away from each other, Gwydion Mayberry was never a changing person as she clearly knew his persona better than some would. His hands upon her shoulders were more than just a comfort, they seemed to also put her on slight edge. After all – she wasn’t used to men putting their (at times large) masculine hands upon her slender frame. The tenderness wasn’t the only thing that he hadn’t lost over time because she found herself smiling at him with the teasing tones. They were sweet to her ears, mainly because most men would never dare to say that to a woman. Much like a daughter of a Romanian who’d soon butcher their hands and grind it into Mititei without a second thought.

“As I’ve told you before, Gwydion Mayberry, a lady never reveals her secrets, much like to scruffy mongrels such as yourself,” she jabbed immediately as it came to her, finding calling him a ‘mongrel’ relatively an amusing but correct assumption. He was good on hygiene, there was no doubt of that, then again . . . he was a straggler who profited on wares that always were the endless thorn in the Ministry’s side. She did often think that he and Arthur Weasley would’ve made an interesting pair – Gwyn giving advice how they were and then to watch Weasley’s eyes light up much like a child in an actual toy shop.

It was quite the amusement currently – snow was dropping upon them and Gwydion Mayberry was behaving as if he were a civilized man. Perhaps she could train this dog new tricks after all, eh? The smile drew into a grin as he continued to speak to her. His accent somehow reminded her of her mother’s father. True, Gwyn was from York whereas Alan Murray had been a Scotsman through and through – it hardly mattered, now did it? Seeing him here made her suddenly realize something. Her father’s worries about her settling could be adjusted now that he was back . . . then again, maybe he wasn’t looking for a long term commitment nor was she willing to go travel the world’s Ministries while he sold his wares.

So what have you been up to?

Oh, if he only knew . . . she couldn’t tell him because that was confident and well, people mixed with a toymaker and his former lover spilling Ministry secrets was hardly what you could call ‘safe.’ So, she had to find things to talk about. “Work’s work . . . as usual. Trials, as well as paperwork flooding everyone’s offices, including my own have been the latest trend. You know how it is for me,” she tried to say pleasantly without hinting the obvious displeasure that was within. “Three years. Too long, old man.”

"Yeah.  Crazy, that," Jonas agreed, mentally doing a self-assessing tally.  Defense, Transfiguration, Charms, Potions after miraculously managing to pull off an O on his O.W.L., and Muggle Studies.  Apparently not pushing himself enough on his N.E.W.T.s had doomed him to lifelong failure.  That was quite a bit explained.

The toy maker had vanished around the front of the stall, giving him a chance to focus on the girl.  Listening to her again, her accent sounded definitively Canadian, and she was quite the image of Lexus up close.  "Well, it's good to hear that there are still students who are keeping the torch burning," he remarked cheerfully, keeping a thoughtful gaze on Dahlia. 

The coincidence that she could be related to his assistant wasn't so farfetched once he thought about it. Magic tended to run in families, after all, and though he'd taken Lex for a Muggle-born, he hadn't ever asked.  He wracked his brain, trying to remember the details of the newspaper article that he'd found online.  Had it mentioned anything about a younger sister?

"So are you studying at Pinebrook, then?" he inquired in a friendly tone.  The helpful thing about his new employee was that he now knew more about the Canadian magical school system than any other living Briton.  "What brings you all the way over to this side of the pond?  Visiting family for the holidays?"

„Yeah… I figure it must be quite boring without me around,“ Gwydion replied, a glint of mischief in his eyes. He was well aware that she wasn´t telling him everything, but he didn´t mind. It wasn´t as if he was wont to spill out secrets to every stranger he met in the street, but it was true that he was talkative, and he did not always remember what he was supposed to keep his mouth shut about and what not.

A sideways glance revealed that the customer with the limp was busy talking to the young girl, and the other customers did not make the impression as though they wanted to buy anything, so Gwydion was content to keep his attention focused on Gabrielle.

“Is it three years already?” he mused. Yes, it must be... three and a half even, since he had left in summer, and now it was winter. Time surely flew. The things he had accomplished in those three years... he had travelled with a half-muggle, half-magical circus, worked for a newspaper in New Zealand (the fastest reporter they´d ever had, though his writing style was more than a tad too exuberant and flowery for their tastes), lived in a cave in the mountains in Peru, not to mention half a dozen other stations he´d gone through... looking back at those three years, they had gone by in a blur. Gwydion felt as if he´d set out only a few weeks ago - and yet, his hair had gone from auburn to (mostly) grey since his departure. Gwydion wondered whether Gabie would comment on it, or whether she´d offer to transfigure it back for him. She had always been better at Transfiguration than him.* He wasn´t sure he´d want that, though... he had gotten used to his grey mane, and he liked to think that it lent him a more distinguished air.

“How about I pack up my booth and take you for a drink somewhere? Does the Three Broomsticks still exist?”

Never mind that he hadn´t sold a single piece yet. And he wasn´t exactly swimming in money either - Gwydion could use every knuckle he could get, his credit with Gringott´s being severely drained out by now. Of course, if he could manage to find that darn key to his vault, then he´d probably be well-off again... but that was a venture he would start out for later. Now he wanted to spend some time with Gabie, before the Ministry stole her away again for some undoubtedly highly important task. Like paperwork and such.

*Can edit that, if Transfiguration should happen to be Gabie´s weakness or anything like that.

Dahlia drew herself up, straightening her back and beaming out a smile filled with pride, ignoring the heated sensation that indicated she had been blushing. She was rather proud of herself that she had impressed the man with her scholastic eagerness. She knew many of her Professors appreciated her enthusiasm especially after having to teach Ayla for two years. She felt sorry for many of her Professors and was glad that by the end of term none of them were comparing her to her big sister (unless it was to praise her for how much more focused she was than Ayla)

It was hard to hide the surprise that came to her face when the red haired man mentioned Pinebrook. Everytime she mentioned the Canadian Academy people gave her that distant glazed over look that indicated they had no idea what she was talking about. By his accent the man was definitely native to the Isles so how was it that he knew about what should have been her alma matre?

"You know you're the first person I've met here that actually knows what Pinebrook is?" She once again felt that uncomfortable sensation of heat on her cheeks and did her best not to think about it, "I should have gone there, I was supposed to but my Daddy got promoted and we had to move over here. See, he worked for Parliament back home and was offered the position to be Ambassador to Canada for the British ministry which meant he had to move us all over here. I don't mind though, Hogwarts is supposed to be one of the best magical establishments in the world. If there was any school to attend other than Pinebrook it would definitely be Hogwarts."

She paused for a moment to glance at the dolls she had been interested in when she first arrived, "it destroyed my sister though. She's two years older than me and was all set to head off to Pinebrook. She had even bought all of her school supplies and everything and then a week before she was supposed to head off on the tram Daddy moved us over her and she ended up on the Hogwarts express instead. It was actually nice to have her go though, you should have heard the screaming and crying she put us through." She sighed a moment thinking back to when the family had first moved to London. Erik had found it to be quite an adventure and Dahlia was eager to learn all new things she wouldn't have had a chance to back home, the only thing that soured the experience was Ayla's constant complaining.

"See my Dad went to Pinebrook and so did all his sisters, my uncle didn't though since he's a squib but all of my cousins go there. Even one of my cousins on my mothers side. My mom's a muggle but my cousin is a muggleborn, there's probably magic somewhere in my uncle's line but it proved to my mom how unpredictable magic can be. You see Lexus is the youngest and she's a witch but her brother and sister, Kelly and Jackson they're muggles just like their parents. It was actually really cool to talk to her about magic, it made holidays with my mom's side of the family a lot more bearable. My aunt and uncle weren't really all that keen on magic so they never told my grandma and grandpa about it and of course my mom never told them she was married to a wizard. I remember sitting in my grandma and grandpa's basement talking about everything she had learned in school, she'd even do some spells for us, boy I haven't seen her in forever." Dahlia realized she had basically just told the man her entire life story. She pursed her lips her eyes slightly wider than normal as she tried to gauge his reaction. She probably should have just stopped talking but once she landed on a subject that she was interested in or knowledgeable about it was hard to get her to stop.

When it came to Canadians, 'Pinebrook' was obviously the magic word.  Jonas found himself nodding along as the young girl spilled out her entire life's story, along with most of her father's career, her sister's adjustment issues, and the name of at least one relative that caught his ear.  This was a trick that he was clearly going to have to remember for later use.  If he ever found himself in a tight spot with another Canuck, dropping the name of the school could very well be all he needed to get the information that he was looking for.  It was really too bad that 'Hogwarts' didn't have a similar effect on the British - although, Jonas mused, he'd likely be out of a job if it did, because there went all the challenge of it.

Either way, the Canadian school's name triggered all sorts of information.  The girl's father was the Canadian ambassador - which was information that Jonas really wouldn't have gone throwing about if he were her, but even in the magical world, kidnappings of important people's children had to be less common than they were in the movies - and she and her family had moved to the UK because of it.  If he'd been less prepared, he might have shown surprise when she'd dropped the name Lexus.  It made sense that they were related - much more sense than the assumption that all Canadians simply looked alike.

"Well, that's too bad," he replied, giving the girl an amiable smile.  Years of practice at not seeming too interested always paid off at the oddest moments.  "Why don't you see her anymore?  Still back home in Canada?"

"I'm Jonas, by the way," he added, extending a hand to the girl as if she were an adult.  "Got a daughter who's probably about your age.  Don't think you'd be willing to help me pick out something for her for Christmas, do you?"

Dahlia glanced over her shoulder to the man running the booth and the woman that had stopped to talk to him. She nodded for Jonas to move over with her and took him down an aisle that was cut off from the outside of the tent so that no one would be able to over hear them. As open as she had been about her immediate family she was just as cautious and secretive about what she was about to tell him. She didn't think twice about telling someone that her father was an Ambassador, it was something she was actually rather proud of but she was about to tell him a family secret, one that had been swept under the rug. For a moment it made her wonder how much she was acting like Ayla, telling a stranger all of this information but she pushed the thought aside. She wasn't gossiping, she was simply informing, there was a difference.

"Well the real reason I haven't seen her in a while," She glanced around again making sure there was no one near them, "is because Lexus has been shunned by the family. The muggle version, the one that my uncle and Grandparents believe is that Lexus went crazy. They always knew she had been going to a 'special' school but my Aunt and Uncle never specified why. The muggle police believe that Lexus murdered my Aunt and Uncle and then just disappeared." She paused for a moment wondering if she should continue on with her story, it was rather private information. Then again what did it matter, they were in Hogsmeade and as far as Dahlia knew Lexus was still working out her probation in the Under, "The truth is the Ministry covered it up. My Aunt and Uncle weren't killed because their daughter went crazy. They were killed because she turned into a werewolf. She didn't know she was one though. Daddy let me go to the trial even though I was only like eight. I was very interested in how it all worked and being a Ministry official he had to be there."

"Lexus was devastated, she had no idea she was a werewolf. Everyone believed her and she was put on probation. She was required to work in a Ministry sanctioned business and every month someone brings her wolfsbane."

Dahlia smiled softly still believing that her cousin was living a fairly normal life in Toronto as a bartender, "So yeah that's the real reason why I haven't seen her, not just because she still lives in Toronto. I don't think my mom has ever forgiven her for killing her sister though." The last bit had been added as an afterthought.

Once she was done her story and Jonas introduced himself like any adult would do to another adult Dahlia met his hand in a firm shake, "Dahlia Collins, it's a pleasure to meet you." Completely unaware of the weight of her previous words Dahlia looked to the toys spread out on the tables in front of her, "Absolutely. What kind of toys does your daughter like?"