There were times when all one could do was accept the bizarre.

Ever since December, Anna had found herself putting that belief into practice on a regular basis.  First, there had been the sudden reversal in her ex-husband's behavior.  Jonas Trevelyan had never been entirely reliable, and since the divorce, he had grown steadily worse.  He had ignored her phone calls, avoided any contact, and -- in an ever-worsening disregard that left her helpless with sheer frustration -- conveniently come up with an excuse any time he should have been there with the kids.  But then, on December 10, all of that had changed.  A strange man in a Santa suit had shown up at their home, and suddenly Jonas was there again, as reliable and conscientious as he'd been in the first years of their marriage.

She had just started to accept that -- to tentatively trust that her husband's newly-rekindled sense of responsibility wasn't going to vanish the instant that he felt it on his shoulders -- when everything had transformed again.  Her paradigm shifted and suddenly magic was everywhere, exposing an entire secret world that she had never suspected.  It was, Anna had to admit, probably not the most completely unbelievable excuse for inexcusable behavior of an estranged significant other, but it had to be at least in the top five on the list.

There was magic, and the magic brought incomprehensible dangers.  Hexes, curses, men who could disguise themselves as anything and kill with merely a word.  But it also brought Jonas, happier and more driven than she'd ever seen him, as he weighed the risks and benefits of returning to work for the magical government once more.  Their daughter Gwenna's own oddities were suddenly explained.  And even more than that: it brought confirmation of the fact that there was something more to the world, that the mundane wasn't all there was to it. 

But it also brought incredible complexities to everyday life.  Explaining to her parents and sister why she was suddenly willing to trust her ex-husband again without a rational reason.  Politely smiling in regard to concern expressed by their neighbors, when cellular phone service on their block suddenly seemed a tad more unreliable.  Assuring Gwenna's teachers that no, they were not really worried about what Gwenna's new aspiration to tame dragons for a living meant for her chances at higher education.

And occasionally -- though on a far less regular basis than one might think -- it brought conversations that were so surreal that she couldn't quite believe she was having them.

"No."  Anna paused, eyeing the man who stood before her as if trying to gage whether he was testing her or not.  She opened her mouth, gave him a peculiar look, and then decided to take the question at face value.

"In the grand scheme of things, I can't say that they considered accessibility when they decided where to put the fireplace," she said at last.  "We'll be certain to keep that in mind for the next home that we buy, though.  Along with an extra upstairs window for the owls."

Aside from his overdramatic introduction, she had found herself rather liking Adon Eleor.  Despite his holiday home invasion, he seemed to be making as much of an effort to be liked as her ex-husband was.  The younger wizard was earnest, well-spoken, and friendly, and the trust that he and Jonas put in each other was obvious.  The visits from both Eleor brothers to shore up the home's defenses had become relatively commonplace since January.

"Although couldn't they...Floo in just as well as we could out?" she asked tentatively.  The vocabulary was still new enough that working it into conversation took some thought.  That was one of the things that had convinced her about Jonas; her ex-husband tossed around words like 'Auror' and 'apparate' and 'Floo powder' as if he'd been born to use them, which she supposed he had.  "I should think accessibility is the last thing that we want if that's the case.  Won't it be better to just have one point of entry?"

"In the grand scheme of things, I can't say that they considered accessibility when they decided where to put the fireplace," she said at last.  "We'll be certain to keep that in mind for the next home that we buy, though.  Along with an extra upstairs window for the owls."

"You mean that you don't try to make them more accessible for Santa Claus?" He was serious. But there was no way Anna might know that. "It was that inadequacy that suggested the vulnerability in Muggle households in the first place. Well, that and Floo," he reasoned as he stepped into the fireplace and looked up at the ceiling. He patted the walls, squinting his eyes shut as several black-ish flakes and. . . other things. . . fell down from above.

Yes, speaking of Floo--Adon gave a pleased smile as she followed his train of thought; he stepped out of the fireplace and wiped his face with his sleeve. "Yes, I think you're exactly right on that one. We can find other ways for a quick exit--should you ever need one. But I think it's best to eliminate any weaknesses in the system, for now." He considered. "On a scale of 1-10, how important is it for you to be able to still keep a working iphone in the house? Telephones, televisions, refrigerators--all those electronic appliances."

That would limit the scope and methodology considerably. Having now wiped away the soot, Adon looked at her more earnestly. Befuddled and a bit uncomfortable. His smile grew a bit more reassuring. Anna was a strong woman, but she was very conscious of the pros and cons of all situations. Lawyerly. He liked that.

Reasonably, he contined: "We don't want to go about arbitrarily making lifestyle changes, of course. . .and this may be only temporary, but as it is, I'd really advise we make the place as secure as possible. We might need to compromise on some things." Dreogan might have wanted to make this secure as a Gringott's vault, but Adon wasn't really willing to go that far. Their vault had a fake skeleton--he hoped it was fake--for menacing ambience. He doubted Anna would approve of the decor, though it would, most likely, thrill Gwenna.

"Is there an alternative to refrigerators?" Anna asked, the dryness dripping from her voice.  She arched her eyebrows, and then gave the Israeli a faint smile, turning to regard the fireplace again.

Jonas had explained most of it -- magic and technology didn't really mix, which limited the protections they could put on the house.  Dreogan Eleor had been doing what he could, strengthening the threshold and setting up magical alerts that would at least warn them if someone was intruding, but if they truly intended to make the house safe, something was going to have to give.  There was, as Adon had said, a need for compromise in this new paradigm. 

"I imagine we could live without cellular phones, although you can be the one to explain that to Jon," she replied, giving Adon a painfully dry smile.  "He complains enough about it not working at the office; I'd hate to hear what he'd think if he couldn't use it here, either.  Television, the rest of it --"  She paused, tilting her head to the side as she considered.

"I think telephones would be the most essential," she said at last, eyes flickering back to the Auror.  "If we can keep those, I think we can manage losing the rest, especially if it's temporary.  But --"  She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the floor before she looked back to Adon once more.

"Is that really going to be enough?" she asked carefully.  "There's limits to how much we can stay inside this house, Adon.  And we've talked -- we've both talked -- about what the options are."  Finding a different way of schooling the children was one; they'd already discussed sending them to Hestia Eleor until they were old enough for Hogwarts.  "If someone really wanted to get to us, they're going to find a way.  We're not giving up our lives just to stay safe."

"An alternative? No. We in the magical world just lay it out on the counter. We find that rot just adds to meat's tangy, rancid flavour." He looked over earnestly at her. "We're really into that." He grinned, breaking the facade. "I think, though, that almost everything in the Muggle world has a magical counterpart. Except--"

Well, except all the things she'd listed off.

Adon puffed air from his cheeks. "Aside from you and me. . . who does he even call on that thing?" he asked in sudden amusement. Adon didn't really want to be the one to tell Jonas. But yes--it didn't seem like keeping up phone lines, internet connections, computers, or televisions, hairblowdryers, toasters, blenders, was going to work in this new paradigm. "Yeh. . . tel-i-phones. Tel-e-vision. About those. . .

"Well, I'm certainly not wanting to Dree the place up," he said, referring to the end of March, in which Dree had stepped in to make the Trevelyan household as the family vault, "but that being said, I'd recommend that our security measures be as livably permanent as possible." Unless Jonas was planning on quitting his job, unless people had incredibly short memories, this didn't seem to be a quick-fix sort of scenario. "It may be costly at first, but it may be worth the investment: conversion to Magical appliances, when possible--wireless, toasters, that sort of thing. And then, we can focus on finding a way around telephones. You are wanting, primarily, to keep in touch with your Muggle friends and associates--school and work and that sort of thing, yes?" He waited a moment before adding, "if it's just Jonas, there are definite ways around telephonic communication. Not as sexy as iphones, I'm afraid, but they work well."

Adon was reminded of Deen's and Luke's way of communicating through a charmed notebook. And there was Dree's magical mirror that he provided to Sasha and Jacoba. Though Adon still wasn't sure if Jacoba could use the thing--it might require magic. Something to look into.

Adon's brainstorming halted a moment to listen to Anna's concerns: "If someone really wanted to get to us, they're going to find a way.  We're not giving up our lives just to stay safe."

His lips compressed as he let out a breath. Tricky. "Well, yes. Ostensibly, they could find a way. No wall is ever impassable. Trust me," he said with more emphasis than might have been prudent. The walls that kept his country from others--the walls that kept the Palestinians out (or in, depending on who one talked to) were the most fortified in the world; since the fall of the Berlin Wall. But Adon knew personally--they were not impassible. "But the goal is to narrow the holes and gaps in that wall as much as possible. As a deterrent.  It also makes alarm systems easier and more accurate in the event of a breach."

And speaking of alarms--Adon had to check himself. Civilians always took such discussions with more alarm than did military counterparts. Scratching his cheek, he said, "I'll need to research what actionable measures will work without magic. As far as communication goes, transportation--that sort of thing. I may check with a friend on this." Except that this friend had recently had her child stolen from her own household, and she was none the wiser, so. . . grain of salt.

"As a courtesy to our beloved Statute of Secrecy, would you close your eyes for a moment?" he asked as he lifted his wand. "I'm wanting to see the strength of what all you've got up right now, but I'll need to see the spells first."

The irony in the parallel statements, one a suggestion and the other a favor, was so rife that it was all she could do to only slant the Israeli a look.  Adon was, Anna knew, only trying to help; he and his brother had spent hours and expounded unknowable amounts of energy to set up the wards because they cared about their family, they cared about Jonas.  Whatever the sins and faults of the magical community, both Eleors were going out of their way to assist.  Blaming Adon for the contradictions of his society wasn't fair.  He hadn't set the law.

She eyed him for a moment longer, her expression slightly guarded, and then cooperatively turned away.  "Yes, and that's why we're supposed to convert entirely to magical appliances when I can't even watch you do a spell, is it?" she asked, keeping her back to the Israeli as she crossed her arms.  "As amusing as I'm certain it would be, wearing a blindfold around the house isn't entirely feasible.  I think we might have to keep with what we've got."

Whatever the Auror was doing behind her, she waited; nothing he said or did would make very much sense anyhow.  "And no, it's not just Jonas," she added over her shoulder.  "We both have family, though I can't even --"  Explaining how frustrating it felt to not even be able to give her parents a reasonable explanation for why her relationship with her ex-husband had suddenly changed was not a conversation she wanted to get into with Adon Eleor; Anna cut herself off with a shake of the head. 

"Well, explaining would be difficult.  There's also the neighbors.  Our friends," she listed off.  More hers than her ex-husband's; as social as Jonas might be, he rarely let anyone get close.  "Everyone from Gwenna and Artie's school, even if they don't stay there for long.  And that's not even counting needing to stay in touch with the office; it would be difficult to explain why I've just up and disappeared on them when I'm not at work."