(The Petrie Museum of Egyptian Archaeology, University College, London.)

The mummy stumbled forward, its arms outstretched and bandages flailing, drool dripping down from its mouth as it stumbled forward.  "Rouuurwawwargghooolrrr," it moaned, as it walked unrelentingly towards its chosen victim, nearly bowling over a passerby who had been unlucky enough to end up in its path.

Jonas took one look, his jaw dropping, and then pounced with speed and tenacity of an out-of-practice parent.  "Gwenna!" he hissed, snagging his daughter by the arm. 

Without fail, he thought, he had no idea how she did it.  He had no idea how, no matter where they took her, Gwenna managed to get her hands on something unexpected and cause a scene.  This time, letting her go to the ladies' room on her own had evidently been the mistake.  He should have insisted on waiting by the door and approving her exit, because she'd apparently come out wrapped in long strands of toilet paper and then seized the opportunity to make her run on her little brother.

Gwenna snarled at him and attempted to wrestle for a moment, but a sharp look from Jonas finally made her still. 

"Bandages off," he told her firmly, not betraying a hint of amusement in his expression.  If he cracked at all, he'd lose any hope of maintaining order through the rest of the afternoon.  "In the litter bin.  It's not funny, Gwen.  And you're wasting paper," he added with emphasis.  If appeals to humanity and good behavior didn't work, maybe environmental responsibility would finally get the point across.

He should have known better, he thought dryly, shaking his head as he watched his daughter sullenly began to unwrap herself from the strips of toilet paper and deposit them into a nearby bin.  Jonas had learned his lesson about taking his children anywhere where costumes came into play after the incident at the Tower over a year ago, and livestock encounters had recently been struck off the list as well after the disastrous mishap at the sheep theme attraction on the way down to Cornwall for Christmas.  Apparently 'museums,' 'dead things,' and 'anywhere involving water closets' would need to be banned in the future.  At the rate they were going, by the time Gwenna was fifteen, their days out would be restricted to the Welsh countryside, but only when there were no sheep or people around.

A sudden flash of panic brought the realization that he'd let go of Artie while he had been disentangling the mummy.  Frantic, Jonas looked up, his stomach dropping as he scanned the room.  In the few brief moments that his attention had been elsewhere, the small, brownish-auburn haired figure had made it to the completely opposite side of the floor, where he was staring up at the ominous stone face of a jackal-headed statue.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Jonas shot a look back at Gwenna to make certain that she was complying with his instructions and not currently in the process of eating anyone, and then started across the room before his son could make a further escape.  Keeping up with Artie was getting to be more and more difficult as the boy got older; the private investigator couldn't help feeling painfully conscious of his own limp as he finally caught up with him.

"Artie," he said firmly, grabbing for the boy's hand.  "You know better than this, mate.  What'll your mum say if she hears you've run off?  And Gwen!" he snapped, turning back around. 

The flurry of movement at the corner of his eye had given his ten-year-old daughter away.  Gwenna froze mid-attack, apparently in the process of trying to gnaw on the arm of the unsuspecting red-haired woman who was standing next to her.

Jonas sighed inwardly, wondering what he'd ever done to deserve this, and scooped up his son so that the lone soldier couldn't pull another runner.  Glaring daggers at his daughter, he turned to limp back across the room.

"I'm really sorry about that, ma'am," he offered to Gwenna's almost-latest victim sheepishly, his attention still fixed on his daughter.  She had the good sense to squirm under his glare, shifting uncomfortably as she picked off one of the remaining strips of toilet paper and let it drift to the floor.  "I reckon we're going to have to have us another talk about cannibalism on the way home.  Apparently the undead are part of a self-looping food chain."

The click of heels on marble flooring was a sound both familiar and at the same time completely foreign to Josephine St. Just.  She was recognized at this museum, something of a bizarre benefactor, having once or twice donated pieces under the guise of an eccentric philanthropist.  While Gringotts was not interested in goods that were not made of precious metals, Joie had found there were markets for things that were not... conventionally expensive, but had a good price margin on a non-magical market.  Any time she located anything wooden from one of her sites, if it was produced well, and older than 500 years, she was going to take it to those that would appreciate it.  It was a pocket padder, to be certain, and allowed some of the less... lucrative pieces to be displayed.

Looking down into one of the display cases, Josephine smiled to herself.  The miniature of a river boat, complete with figurines of rowers, overseers, and pharaoh had been something she came upon in the tomb of a young son of Egypt.  The boy had not lived more than thirteen years from what she had gathered and many of the objects had been toys.  This was a toy and a symbolic sculpture piece.  It was a proud discovery and with her fountain pen poised against the pages of her journal, she took a few notes, including the dating placed on the information card and a quick sketch.  She wished to have that for a later date, just in case she needed to reference it again.

It was also not the first time she considered come back for something she had donated.  It was surprisingly easy to copy an object that was already on display with magic and no one would be the wiser.  Of course, Josephine always liked to leave a semblance of her mark on any piece, charming her initials into the base, smaller than would be noticed by anyone who was not dissecting the object.  So, having a brief sketch of the location on her objects was also necessary, just in case the opportunity came up. 

Engrossed with her drawing and contemplating, Josephine barely noticed the ruckus going on behind and around her.  Parents and children were a necessary evil of being in public and at times, those children were unruly - it was a fact that one could not ignore or change. She had no delusions of being able to, so rather than grate her teeth and anger herself, she ignored the sounds of something gurgled and a father's warning words.  In fact, as a harsh voice declared that the trick was wasting paper, a minuscule smile crept on her red lips. 

Unconcerned, she turned back to the task at hand, flipping the page of the journal and turning it sideways, trying to get a good floor layout.  She only glanced up from her book for a few cursory seconds, her green eyes searching the entire room for a sense of scale and placement.  She wanted a clear drawing and as she sketched, she was certain she would get it - until she felt two strange constricting holds on her arms and a gurgling sound.  Her arm jerked down and her fountain pen twisted in her hand.

Ink flew from the nib, splotting the front of her creamy white blouse and a few even dotted the bridge of her nose, and the little girl's face as she tried to pull away with something that sounded faintly related to a scream of horror married to a yelp of surprise after having an affair with the grimace of disgust.  Thankfully, this combination was enough to startle the child that was still making that horrendous guttural sound, having let go of the sleeve and her arm, tripping a step or two back before the man who appeared to be her father started forward with another child in his arms and an apologetic expression on his face.

Clearing her throat, Josephine looked at the young girl that visibly squirmed - clearly knowing her father had meant business before and now really did, and back to the man, picking the pieces off of him.  Taking a deep breath through her nose, she exhaled through her mouth and gripped more tightly on the splotting pen.  There was something vaguely familiar about the man, though she could not place it - reasoning that she had met thousands like him on her travels, it was likely to remember another face that belonged to the exclusive red-headed club. 

Raising her eyebrows at the young woman, Josephine pressed her lips together in thought before leaning down a tad.  "You know, I have met my fair share of cannibals, Miss," she said with a reasonable amount of honesty - three tribes worth was probably more than one person's fair share, but who was counting, really? "May I suggest you take the time to read more about your kind? The Mobangi or Mangbetu tribes of the Congo might be of particular interest. I am sorry to say you are probably the only cannibal I have ever met who has tried to eat their prey alive, which is reasonably impressive." 

Standing up straight once again, she flattened out her brown skirt and glanced back at the father, "In some tribes, eating the deceased gives a sense of continuity and continued existence.  Perhaps that would be an advantageous angle for your conversation - deceased food rarely requires an apology,"  She nodded with a bit of a self-satisfied smirk, feeling it was a decent suggestion in dealing with the child.  It was educational and practical, what better introduction to cannibal cultures could one have? 

It was a perfectly logical rejoinder, which Jonas could definitely appreciate.  Normally, he would have been completely supportive of countering inappropriate behaviors with matter-of-fact explanations, whether or not he thought that his children were actually listening to him - someone had to model how to productively analyze and solve problems, after all - but he could tell where this was unfortunately going as soon as the words left the woman's mouth.

He winced.

"Yeah, makes sense," he said quickly, hoping to get a word in before Gwenna exploded, "but she's not -"

"I'm not a cannibal!"  Gwenna had been getting redder and redder through the woman's analysis.  Her facial expression was a cross beneath a snarl and looking like she was going to cry.  "I'm a mummy!  Cannibals eat dead people.  Mummies eat the living.  When they disturb us," she added darkly, glowering at the woman as if she were trying to discern her level of interruption. 

This was not going well.  They were approaching the breaking point.  Artie, who had obviously sensed it, had already burrowed his face against his father's shoulder.  Jonas wondered if he could get away with mouthing 'coping mechanism' without Gwenna seeing him.  Time to defuse.

"Yeah, well, we're not a mummy anymore, are we?" he asked, forcing a light tone as he tried to steer his daughter back towards the litter bin while juggling Artie at the same time.  "Because we're throwing the tissue away like we were asked.  Sorry," he told the woman again, sounding embarrassed.  "I'm thinking of packing her off to Egypt with some Runes scholar I know.  Reckon maybe she'll grow out of it a bit if she sees the real thing."

Josephine thought she had dealt rationally with the child.  After all, she had showed such an interest in consuming human flesh it only seemed right to assume cannibal, and her father had even used the word in his apology.  Her reddened cheeks and tearing eyes on served to perplex the redhead.  She had never met a small child so... distracted by the difference.  It showed a keen mind at least, and she was at least proud to be corrected by a girl who knew her living dead. 

There was the matter of how exactly she was aware of such things, naturally.  They appeared to be a normal, muggle family going for an afternoon in the museum - but her interesting knowledge about the works of mummies versus the... pedestrian term for inferi.  Raising her eyebrows, she looked to the father with the red hair, the look of panic clearly written across his face. 

The other child had his face hidden, clearly sensing something was happening - perhaps a clairvoyant.  Whatever was going on with this strange family, Josephine was most certainly intrigued.  Looking down at the fallen papers, she was somewhat remiss that she could not use her wand to help.  It hadn't escaped her notice that the father had been limping, whether it was from the slightly heavy child on his hip or something a bit more serious, she could not tell.

  What she could tell though, was that he was trying very hard to get things moving in the proper direction.  Her suspicions seemed even more confirmed when he mentioned runes and Josephine shook her head with a low rumble in her throat - a husky sort of laugh bubbling up.  "Runes? Ah, they don't come in contact with mummies very often!" Josephine informed him with the confidence of someone who knew what she was talking about - she assumed that she would either seem very knowledgable for a wizarding family or absolutely out of her mind for the muggles.  Either way, it would affect her very little in the long run.

"Now," she said, glancing down at the little girl with a critical eye, figuring this would get her attention and erase the prior mishap about the cannibal business, "if she were to want to meet a mummy, she would need to go straight into a tomb - stealing a precious item.  Something on a curse breaker could do, albeit a bad one," she smirked easily at the girl, before looking at the father, "A good curse breaker always breaks the code first - nasty things, mummy's curses," she scrunched her nose prettily, "and very smelly, young lady.  Being dead for thousands of years without a bath certainly doesn't make for a very fresh body." 

Shaking her head,  Josephine finally looked up at the father, "I would not count on such an adventurous young lady growing out of it.  I know I have not."  Putting out her hand, she smiled, "Josephine St. Just.  And you?"

Aside from sitting through one or two movies that had more to do with forbidden temples and ancient curses than anything resembling a realistic excavation, Jonas knew next to nothing about archaeology.  Runes, hieroglyphics, or chicken scratches - he couldn't have identified the difference between any of them, let alone noted that one was a wizardly specific term.

Curse breaker, though, was a term that he knew - and one that was specifically magical.  At first, he had simply been listening to the woman's speech, noting with relief that the suggestion that she might be able to meet a mummy had apparently overridden Gwenna's distress at being misidentified as an appropriately horrible creature.  Thanks to several mainstream movies over the years, wanting to be a tomb raider was a perfectly acceptable fantasy, and was certainly more normal than a ten-year-old insisting that she wanted to be a member of the undead when she grew up.  At the very least, convincing Gwenna that she'd have more fun trying to kill mummies than she would if she managed to become one would hopefully mean fewer awkward parent-teacher conferences.  Even though he and Anna were convinced that it was a phase that their daughter would eventually grow out of, the school administration never seemed to agree.

But mention of the Gringotts' profession caught his ear.  Jonas blinked, and then squinted at the woman, studying her features as a vaguely unsettled feeling crept into his stomach.  She looked familiar.  Awkwardly familiar.  And with Artie still hanging around his neck, and interest slowly growing on Gwenna's features, she turned to him and held out her hand.

And introduced herself.

Oh, bloody hell.

Though this was not an eventuality that he had ever thought to prepare for, it occurred to Jonas as he stared at the woman's hand that he probably should have considered it.  He was certainly immersed in magical society again; obviously there was going to be at least one occasion when he ran into someone that he knew from less-than-mundane circumstances while with his family.  At least this hadn't happened while Anna was present.  Getting out of this without alarming his ten-year-old daughter or five-year-old son would be tricky enough; trying not to alert his hyper-aware wife would have been nearly impossible. 

Josephine St. Just clearly hadn't recognized him.  He could lie.  He could walk away.  Or, Jonas thought with a sigh as he freed a hand from Artie and extended it to shake hers, he could just own the situation.

"Are not very good at recognizing old faces, obviously," he returned cheerfully, flashing her an enormous lopsided grin that would hopefully overcome any sheepishness in his expression.  "Jonas Trevelyan.  Ah, from school.  You remember," he said vaguely, trying to think of a better way to put it without either of his children catching on.  Gwenna was already watching him suspiciously, apparently unhappy that he had taken over her conversation.  "Don't know if I came off so well back then."

There had almost never been hesitation in returning an introduction to her before.  It was not something she was accustomed to, even when she was navigated back alley ways in Cairo, looking for those that would sooner cut off your nose than listen to your name.  Perhaps he was just concerned that she was a rather insane woman who had commandeered a conversation with his daughter about mummies, clearly implanting the idea that they could exist - which they did, but that was not the issue at present. 

When his hand was finally issued forth, Josephine raised her auburn eyebrows - recognizing old faces?  He did get that right, unless someone had formed a particularly significant shadow on her adult life, it was highly unlikely she remembered them.  This family man did not seem like the type that she would deal with on a daily basis, and certainly, if she did know him, it hadn't been while he was undoubtedly married and having children.  The sorts in her line of work that did have families certainly didn't go for outings at the museum with them. 

When he finally said his name, it was as though a light bulb went off in her head.  Jonas Trevelyan!  Goodness, a name she had not expected to ever hear again.  Nodding somewhat eagerly, Josephine smiled, "I never would have guessed, and running into you here.  Teaching the children about the perils of ancient magic?" she looked at them with a serious expression, "From what I can now remember, your father wasn't very good at deciphering ancient texts," she smirked and winked conspiratorially at the little girl.

It was not a far jump for Josephine to think that his children knew of magic.  The girl looked about the right age, the boy was slightly younger, but any upright wizard would have taken his children to a quidditch game by now and he was surely old enough for a ride-along broom!   It did not even cross her mind that perhaps they had no idea what she was talking about. 

"Certainly not so... domesticated," she grinned, a slight hint of deviousness in her eyes.  "And are these the newest Trevelyans?  This one," she indicated the girl, "surely a future curse breaker - perfect profession, I must say," she smiled - always on the lookout for talent, "and the other, well, a quiet one, I presume?"

Jonas had quite happily purged the one disastrous year that he'd taken Ancient Runes from his life's recollections.  Having it resurrected again - and in front of his children, no less - inserted a slight pain into an already-forced smile.  Artie would likely tune out unless the words 'soldier' or 'army' were mentioned, but Gwen...Gwenna was already watching him with a suspect expression, her eyes shifting back and forth between her father and the red-haired woman.

It was slightly unfortunate that he had never found a way to inconspicuously quiz her about what she'd seen when Adon Eleor had come to visit a few weeks before.  Jonas had been all too relieved to let the subject drop with Anna, and bringing it up again to his daughter, even on the sly, had seemed like pushing his luck.  He had no idea what had happened before his ex-wife had arrived on the scene.  The Auror could have flooed in; he could have apparated and appeared in front of her; he could have given the girl a three-hour dissertation on the four houses of Hogwarts, for all Jonas knew.  Even with her monster phase and her occasional attempts at cannibalism, Gwenna was far more observant (and far too imaginative) than she ought to be.  He couldn't tell if she were eyeing him because she suspected the truth, or just because he was her father and he was Talking To A Woman.

"Ah, only in public," he said, nudging Artie.  His son shifted his head to regard the woman solemnly, and then squirmed to be put down.  Jonas obliged, but kept a firm grip on the collar of his blazer.  He wasn't going to go chasing off after him through the museum again if he could help it.  "Regular chatterbox when he's at home.  Artie," he said, nodding to the boy, and then indicating the still sour-faced girl, "and Gwenna."

He had been, for the longest time, terrified of what would happen if word got out about his family.  'Not on the best of terms' was probably the most understated statement of the new century to describe how he had left his life as a wizard.  But since his return, Jonas had become reasonably well-assured that no one in the magical world was going to flat-out try to kill him.  Even the mistaken home visit from the Auror had not ended disastrously.  If anything, he and Anna had been on better terms ever since.

And besides, Josephine St. Just had gone to work for Gringotts out of Hogwarts, hadn't she?  There was no more boringly respectable career than a bank. 

And then it clicked.  Curse breaker.  Jonas felt his throat go dry.  If that wasn't a bloody helpful coincidence, what was?

"And yes, that would be a better avenue for channeling the energy, wouldn't it?" he asked lightly, his mind racing. He couldn't have a frank conversation, not with Gwenna and Artie here.  But he couldn't send them off.  Artie would pull another runner, and Gwenna would probably start biting innocent passerby.  "So you're still in your old line of work, then?  Not looking to take on an apprentice, are you?"

Artie and Gwenna.  Well, they were handsome children, she had to admit, looked well groomed and the boy was well-behaved.  The girl had spirit, which Josephine approved of – all girls should have spirit and a sense of adventure.  It kept them from becoming dolls sitting idly by while life offered them every opportunity to be as exciting as their male counterparts.  Clearly, in Trevelyan’s little family, the daughter was doing all of the exciting things and the son was woefully shy of public eye. 

“It is a pleasure to meet both of you,” Josephine finally smiled, looking down at both children.  The boy seemed bored, at best, but the girl was very alert – observant.  She was smart, Josephine could see that, her creativity would surely help her along in Hogwarts, and then there was the matter of which house, of course.  Joie could not help but hope that the girl would find a place in her alma mater, though not generally for the most adventurous, it had found a home for Tamis Raynor and Josephine St. Just, respectively, there was the possibility of another intrepid explorer amongst the ravens. 

She did notice that Trevelyan’s demeanor had changed slightly.  He laughed nervously and gave only a half-grin, looking as though he expected something terrible to happen at any turn.  Now, Josephine was confident that she made people nervous – she carried herself in such a way that would intimidate, it was a pleasure for her to know she did that, but this was not the intimidation factor.  There was something more troubling to him, but she did not bother to ask.  Perhaps things were not all find and dandy at home and one of the kiddies was a tattle-tale.

She had been on that side of the pitch before as well, it did not concern her.  She had no reason to worry, and neither did he. Civil conversation had not become a crime, as far as she was aware. 

“An apprentice?” She glanced down at Gwenna, who seemed to look hopeful at the suggestion, causing Josephine to smile just a bit to herself and shake her head.  “Perhaps after she finishes all of her schooling,” she glanced down again, “Your size, presently, recommends you greatly for the position, but I would need you fluent in Ancient Egyptian, Runic studies, and heavily conversant in Ancient Greek.  So, you have your work cut out for you before I decide to take on a new member of the team.”

“I do think your tenacity will at least recommend you for the position though.”  She smirked at the excitement clearly in the little girl’s face and looked up to Jonas, “when will she be off to school? Soon, I’m sure, she looks about eleven.” 

When would she be off to school was a very good question.  It was one that had, occasionally, left Jonas with sleepless nights as he considered the possible ramifications of having an answer.  He wasn't sure which one he preferred: that his own attendance at Hogwarts had been a fluke, the family sport, now neatly rectified by the cursed dagger, or that he'd one day have to explain to his ex-wife why an envelope had let itself in the back window.  Gwenna wouldn't even get the same support that he had gotten, when one of the Hogwarts professors had answered his understandably confounded parents' many questions.  As his daughter, she technically wasn't a Muggle-born, and it was probably assumed that he already would have gone out of his way to lay the foundation for everyone.

Gwenna beat him to the punch.  The fact that she might qualify for something besides chewing off limbs appeared to have caught his daughter's attention, and she was regarding the curse-breaker with a growing excitement.

"I'm ten," she informed Josephine, raising her chin as she eyed the woman.  The trailing strands of toilet paper had been all but forgotten.  "And I'm already in school.  I'm in Year Six.  D'you really mean Ancient Egyptian?" she asked eagerly.  "Like in that Mummy movie?  Because I asked me dad, but he said no one speaks it anymore, and anyway, that's not what archaeology is like, it's more like the Indy movies where there's no mummies, but the Nazis are always trying to -"

For the briefest of moments, Jonas wondered if muffling his daughter made him a bad parent.  He still kept his hand clamped firmly over her mouth, even as Gwenna glared at him furiously and tried to shout through the impediment.

"Look, Gwen, that's not really - OW!"  He bit back a fluent swear as Gwenna fiercely sank her teeth in.  According to his former wife, using foul language in front of the children definitely made him a bad parent. 

"That was unnecessary," he growled at her through clenched teeth, shaking out his hand as he jerked it away.  In his other arm, Artie had perked up and was beginning to squirm; 'Nazi' had unfortunately been the magic word.  This entire situation was quickly going downhill, and it was not helping him progress in the conversation that he'd suddenly realized that he needed to have.  Not caring whether this counted as abandonment or not, Jonas set his son carefully on the ground, and then grabbed for Gwenna's arm.

"Look," he said through gritted teeth.  "Let's talk about this later.  Gwenna, why don't you take your brother and see if you can't find something nice to take home from the store?"  At this rate, sending his children shopping without supervision was probably going to end with charges of assault, but it was a risk he was willing to take.  "Keep an eye on him, yeah?  I need to talk to Ms. St. Just for a moment.  We can discuss your  future career options later."

Gwenna eyed him, looking as if she were weighing the likely consequences of biting him again, but impressing the woman that she now clearly hoped would be her future mentor appeared to outweigh the appeal of cannibalism.  She grudgingly took her brother's hand, shooting another venomous look back over her shoulder at her father as she led Artie back to the store at the entrance of the museum.

Jonas let out a quick sigh of relief, watching them go to make certain that there were no bolts for either freedom or the bathroom on the way to the shop.

"They don't know," he informed Josephine in a low voice, quickly and breathlessly.  "About the magic.  I - "  The awkwardness of having to explain why exactly they didn't know was suddenly suffocating.  He quickly switched tracks.  "I mean, we decided it was better for now.  Until we know for sure, yeah?"

Josephine could already tell that she liked this child.  Whatever Jonas had given her as a child had certainly improved her taste greatly.  Between what sounded like an avid interest in exploring and taking on the world’s greatest challenges, she was also skeptical – not willing to believe everything at face value, and Josephine respected that as well.  One could not get very far in the world without a healthy dose of knowing when someone was trying to weasel the flying carpet out from right under your feet. 

She could have listened to the young lady’s queries about ancient civilizations and languages and her propensity for such things all day, had her father not clapped his hand over her mouth in such a way.  Glancing up at Jonas, she raised her auburn eyebrows, meeting her eyes with his – questioning what on Earth this was about without having to say a word.  Apparently, despite the fact that he clearly knew who she was, talking to strangers so openly – even about a benign topic like mummies and exploration was not acceptable. 

She didn’t have much to say at this blatantly father-daughter-son moment.  It was, in fact, one of the few times, Josephine felt awkward being the casual bystander.  At least, it was clearly obvious that nothing was going to excel into a complete barbaric feast on her father’s flesh.  He would have to be dead to do that, of course, as Josephine had explained earlier, and ti gave her the opportunity to take her charmed kerchief from her bag, wiping the spray of ink from her face, freeing it of the awkward black splatter. 

It was enough of a distraction to aptly pass the time between the order for the children to go the gift shop – she wondered about the validity of this, considering their excursion in the Egyptian hall had been less than calm, with all those things to buy and break, was it a wise course of action?  She had no interest in offering parenting advice, however, as she had no experience in that particular realm and looked at Jonas after her eyes followed the two children out.

“She is a spitfire,” she said before Jonas even got a chance to say anything.  Of course, it was immediately after she spoke that Jonas started to explain.  They did not know?  This was beyond comprehension for Josephine, she had never heard of a wizard keeping the secret from his family.  Didn’t he have a job – didn’t they ask questions about what he did? Where he went to school? It was not her place, she reminded herself, and certainly she could not advise on something she had no experience with.

“Ah,” she started, looking again toward the gift shop, the children having disappeared within the doors.  They would know in seconds of screaming what was going on, of course, but for now, it seemed all was still.  “She is getting a bit old to keep that a secret,” she looked at him, “the owls will be coming out in another five months or so.  Has she shown any signs?”

It was all careful research, of course.  Just wondering how much stock she could put in a future personality for the curse breaking world.

The question stopped him in his tracks.  Jonas had never thought about that before; the fact that, by age ten, he had already experienced his fair share of odd coincidences that in retrospect had been early signs of his magic.  If Gwenna were destined to attend Hogwarts, obviously she would too would have caused her own strange circumstances.  That was what children with magic did, how it manifested itself in their early years.

The thought that there hadn't been any devastated him more than it really should have ought to.  Gwen - and Artie too - could live perfectly happy, fulfilling lives without ever hearing of Hogwarts.  The rest of the world was evidence of that.  He was evident of that.  But he'd always assumed, deep down, that there was a chance that they'd get the opportunity.  With as little as he'd been seeing Gwenna recently, it hadn't even registered that she was nearly old enough to attend the magical school.

Jonas glanced after his children, his expression troubled, and then shook his head.  He wasn't even sure that he would want to send them if they had the opportunity, so letting the fact that they might not be chosen bothered him seemed a bit ridiculous.  There would be time to cross that bridge once he came to it.

"Ah, well, you know," he said, deliberately keeping his tone light.  He cracked a smile, not quite meeting the woman's eyes.  "She's still a bit young.  Just turned ten.  But you must still be working for Gringott's, yeah?" he asked, easily shifting the subject as he flashed Josephine a quick smile.  Whether or not Gwen had magic was unimportant, he told himself firmly.  It didn't matter.  This next subject did.

"You know, believe it or not, I never really knew much about curse-breaking," he remarked off-handedly, still smiling as he kept a close watch on Josephine to gage her reaction.  "Do you lot literally have much to do with curses?  Must run into a fair few of them, dealing with the goblins, don't you?"

Josephine noticed the look of concern on his face, the way he glanced after his children.  Perhaps… perhaps they were not gifted.  She could not fathom it, it seemed unlikely that a muggleborn would produce squibs; after all, magic was – mostly hereditary – for only one generation to possess it?  It seemed exceptionally odd.  He was purposefully vague though, and Josephine left it at that.  She wouldn’t press if it was a sensitive topic.  She would feel the same way if she had children and they failed to show magical ability.

He wanted to bring her own life to light and Josephine never worried about talking about herself.  It was one of her favorite topics, actually, and her work was her life, so that was the perfect topic.  “Most definitely,” she responded emphatically, taking pride in her institution.  She didn’t love Goblins, far from the truth, and most of the time, she did not enjoy working for them, but she also found it to be an interesting and challenging career with a target beyond wealth acquisition for herself.  That had never directly appealed to her. 

His interest was slightly odd though, she figured his daughter would have more of these questions… if she actually knew about Gringotts or any of the things that were pertinent to Josephine’s work beyond the mechanisms of muggle fairy stories, but that was a moot point.  “It’s not something many people are privy to information on,” Josephine replied truthfully.  It was a profession largely built on secrets, and whatever was revealed was through training or interaction directly with a curse breaker. 

There were fiction books written about them, but much of it was romanticized or a back-story to something that a house witch might read.  She read them sometimes, she was a slave to her own curiosity sometimes.  The novels always left something to be desired.  There was a definite misconception though, and at least he was asking an intelligent question, rather than about the romance and mystery of the whole thing, though she supposed that was more of a female question. 

“Yes, I literally break curses,” she smiled easily, tossing her auburn hair over her shoulder, “And goblins aren’t even the usual culprits when it comes to cursing items,” she confided, “ancient wizards and witches, usually upon receiving Goblin crafted goods curse the objects so no one else can take them and the Goblins can’t get them back.  I am not a particular fan of the Goblins, but it’s a challenge.”  She shrugged, “Those are usually only domestic goods though.  International is usually ancient civilizations, gold to be had, cursed by priests and priestesses.” 

She looked around the museum at the items, some of which she was intimately familiar with, though perhaps not on the most legal terms.  “Egypt is a particular treasure trove.”  Clearing her throat, she looked back at the man in front of her and smiled, "but what is that you are doing, outside of being Father of the year, that is?"

Jonas kept careful track of each and every word.  Granted, Aileen Reid had assured him that she would 'look into' his current predicament, but the Ancient Runes professor had not shown herself to be very adept at dealing with Egyptian curses so far.  Besides, the case that he and the Eleors had been building against her brother was nearly complete; once the outfall from that hit, even if he wasn't implicated in the arrest, Jonas couldn't imagine that she'd be very interested in an outside matter once she had more serious family issues to deal with.

It made sense to get one more ball in the air.  He needed to cover himself.  If Aileen Reid fell through, he was going to have to find some other way to get his magic back, or else he'd be stuck waiting for someone else to open the bloody portal to Diagon Alley for the rest of his miserably ineffective life.

Josephine seemed perfectly eager to talk about herself, but the subject changed all too quickly back to his own life of the past twenty years.  Jonas thoughtfully raised his eyebrows, running a hand over his face as he considered his answer.  Normally, his response to any sort of inquiry about his past, recent or not, would be to dodge the question.  Years of experience at coming up with creative non-answers had made him adept at sliding out of most interrogations, but for once, it didn't seem as if changing the subject would get him what he needed.  Far better to let it slide along until it brought up the subject that he wanted to discuss.

"Father of the Year might be a bit of an overstatement," he replied, flashing the curse-breaker a sheepish smile.  "I left the Ministry back during the last war, got licensed as a Muggle private investigator.  And got married," he added as an afterthought, giving a shrug so that it wouldn't seem like an uncomfortable subject.  Which it wasn't, he told himself firmly.  Failed marriages, like the possibility that his children were magicless, were a perfectly normal state of affairs that plenty of people were left to live with every day of the year.  "Divorced now, though.  But I still take the kids when I can."

"It's been interesting lately, though," he continued, allowing a note of thoughtfulness to creep into his voice.  This was the part when he had to be careful.  Directing a conversation without coming across as railroading it was an art form; too much, and she'd jump on him or walk away.  "Most of the work I do is for Muggles, but I've been getting hired on for a whole load of wizarding cases all of a sudden. I can tell you, they're a lot more bloody interesting than surveillance for insurance companies, though," he added, flashing Josephine a lopsided smile.  "Missing Egyptian daggers and long-lost children beat out the Muggle equivalent any day."