Sometimes it was hard to tell who had the crazier fashions, wizards or muggles. Wizards tended to dress from a period era, with regal colors and flowing robes. Yet there were clothing styles in the muggle realms that even the most eccentric of wizards would balk at. The ones with ripped clothing, a multitude of piercings, and other scary stuff you had to watch out for, according to Patricia Pienas. But common to both cultures was crazy hair. In the wizarding world, different colors could come from hair potions or the rare metamorphous gene. In muggle land, hair dye. Muggles were much more experimental with colors, streaks, highlights, low-tones, and haircuts.

Uncommon to both cultures was brown hair with green polka dots.

That was the natural color of Obderedria Pienas as she walked beside her mother Patricia down a London street. Obderedria had a pink shirt on and sky blue pants, lugging a backpack shaped like a certain plasticine dog. Patricia, scantly taller but wider than her daughter, was wearing one of her many business pencil skirts, a desk job combo of grey and black. Besides her purse and a rolling briefcase, she was juggling file folders and a cell phone/palm pilot given to her by her employer. Patricia was a legal aide and a constant wave of cases over the summer months had left her swamped with work. Many people were pestering her for instant feedback. Yet she could see her signal and battery bars lessen as they approached one of a few infamous dead zones in London caused by the magical community. This one from Diagon Alley.

The hope was to get Obderedria’s school shopping done early. Luckily it wasn’t as extensive as last year where the young witch needed a full set of everything. The list of school supplies was thankfully shorter for second years, basic needs being new textbooks and restocking of potion kits. Patricia had taken a half day off of work to get Obderedria’s school things sorted out.

The glossy black haired woman ran through a verbal to-do list. “Okay, I’ve got the money set aside to transfer. We need to buy your books, visit one of those herb shops, and we should let out your school uniform sweetie…hold on, Doug keeps texting me.” A co-worker that could do nothing better than add work to Patricia’s plate. Obderedria had grown up knowing that her mom was always busy so she wasn’t too disheartened, it was just something to adapt to.

Twelve was an awkward age. Obderedria felt she was too old to be a little kid but not yet old enough to be called a teenager. After all, she was only twelve. You didn’t say ‘two-teen.’ Although maybe she was older than she thought, she was going to turn thirteen in November. A ‘teen’ year. What would be a way of calling it otherwise? Thir-leven? Threelve? She had been ‘developing’ as mom put it, one of the signs of adolence. Brushing a brown and green lock from her eyes, Obderedria scanned the street until she saw the dingy façade of a building that looked squashed between two others, a simple cauldron shaped sign above the door.

“There it is.”

Patricia didn’t catch it at first. “Isn’t on the other side of the street, sweetie?”

“No mom.” Obderedria took her mother’s hand in one arm and pointed with the other, guiding her along a line of sight. “The Leaky Cauldron is right there.”

Patricia blinked rapidly. She had a mild headache from her eyes wanting to jump over the magical building as her brain said there was no possible way it could exist within an unbroken block of shops. “And you have your, er, wand that gets through the wall, right?”

Obderedria nodded. Her stick of apple wood was in a lower pocket in backpack-Gromit’s leg.

“Right,” Patricia approached the building but stopped, apprehensive. “Would you open the door, dear?”

Obderedria guided her mother inside, the pub floor rather empty for a late morning.

Green embers burst into flame in the great hearth fire in the Leaky Cauldron. Popping out of the Floo was a parade of Hufflepuff alums and the Ravenclaw child still in school. There was the barrel chested, mustached patriarch Frederick Falkin; his thick muscled all around tough looking son Foster; and last but not least (although technically built the least when compared to the other men in the family) Philo.

He had jumped at the chance to go to Diagon when Dad and Foster had business to attend to. Frederick had business with a few contacts in the Alley and at Gringotts while Foster was getting his quidditch broom refurbished. There were some books coming in to Flourish and Blotts that Philo wanted to check out. Not that he could expect many un-required reading materials when it came time to save money for new class supplies.

"One of these times we should drive it to Diagon, m'boys," said Frederick, brushing ash off his sleeves. "Pull up in the street, enter through the muggle entrance."

"Dad," Foster said, rolling his eyes because of how old the card was. The car could do stand-ins for Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, it was that old of a model. "Most importantly, why commute that far when we have the Floo? That's practically a drive from Wales."

"So we get up early, crack before dawn! See the sunrise when cruising past the countryside, all of that." A tempting offer that might have snagged Foster's vote, if the Falkin boys didn't happen to dislike waking up early when it wasn't needed. Philo was looking forward to going back to school. Back to consistency. Not to say the Egypt trip had been horrible, just...lively. Philo would rather have the familiar unpredictably of Hogwarts than things that moved unexpectedly and unnaturally. Although it was going to be the Tournament, making things even more unsure. Well, school wouldn't be too bad. He could delve back into classes, and there would be people he recognized...

Like this one girl...

As his father and brother chatted in the background, Philo saw Obderedria across the Leaky Cauldron, by the entrance from London. She looked...Philo ran his hands along the strap of his satchel bag. A little different, but the same Hufflepuff girl with the glossy exotic hair that he stared at from across the classroom when not orbiting around her seat, two desks away. At the closest. That must be her mother next to her. Not what he'd imagined but it explained a lot. The older Pienas woman was fussing over the papers she was carrying, while Drea hung close to her, not looking at anyone in the pub. Should he say hello or pretend he hadn't seen he and wait until he saw her at school? Another year of barely talking to her? Drea seemed friendly once you got to talking to her so it shouldn't be too bad.

"Aw crud," said Foster, hiding from the main area of tables. "Another reporter from Witch Weekly. Can't shake them for the life of me."

"Just give them a good article, m'boy," said Frederick.

"You don't know what they're like dad, they're like leeches. She'll want to know everything since the big match against the Wanderers. What was it like playing, what's my favorite broom, favorite thing to eat, most romantic date I've been on, any embarrassing family photos, who am I dating, who have I dated, am I available...I mean, it's not like I wanted to advertise."

Philo wished he could not be associated with family at the moment. His angle of approach would be to find a periphery were he wouldn't be seen coming from Foster's direction. He skirted about the back wall of the pub, gauged the distance to be sufficient, and looked at Drea again. Don't forget to breathe. He patted his satchel bag in afterthought, thankfully no frog to croak cuss-words. He wasn't sure how to explain that one to Mrs?Mz? Pienas if she was muggle.

Philo walked over, stopped a few feet away, then coughed with nerves. "Um, hi Drea."

Obderedria watched her mother sort through papers. She was looking for the shopping list, although every ten minutes or so Patricia Pienas apparently needed to review whatever details of her work she had brought home. Obderedria was still watching her mother when she hear a familiar voice.

"Philo!" she said. The Ravenclaw boy, funny frog. She hadn't expected seeing anybody from school so soon, though she supposed the students that lived in the wizarding world must come to Diagon Alley all the time. "How have you been? Had a good summer?"

The end of the question was punctuated with an odd sound. Like a phone ringing, but if the phone somehow had the hiccups. And crickets.

"No!" moaned Patricia. Her phone was vibrating and chirping this odd bundle of sounds. She had thought she had turned it off before entering the pub. There was static on the screen, then Doug's name and a few words, then static, then checkerboard pattern. And a metallic sounding belch. "That could be Doug calling. Oh, why can't he get his work done at the office? I might have to take this sweetie..."

Just now she noticed Philo. "Oh, is this another student from school?"

"Yes," Obderedria answered.

This was easier than he thought. "Okay summer, I was on the Egypt trip. Very...lively." After being assured there would be no advanced skin disease, Philo had gotten used to being tanner than he usually ever was. Slightly brown was better than lobster red.

Then the sounds. Philo didn't know what to make of it. Dad had been from the era of rotary phones before he'd eased into the wizarding world. An electronic little rectangle that could call and do any other number of tasks was unheard of. From his work in Misuse of Muggle Artifacts, Frederick kept the rule of thumb that the more electrical and less mechanical parts an item had, the worst it responded to magic.

"Yes I am, ma'am," Philo said. He paused. How much did Drea's mother know about the school? At least once a week he'd seen her go in the direction of the Owlery, so she must write home frequently.

Before he could continue there was a deep throated, jovial voice behind him. "Hello hello," said Frederick Falkin, clapping his hands on Phlio's shoulders. "Sportive hair! Is this one of your friends from school, m'boy?"

"S-Sure," said Philo. "This is Obderedria Pienas. She's in Hufflepuff."

"Hufflepuff! Capital! Has Philo ever told you why he isn't-"

"She knows, dad," Philo cut in, embarrassed.

"And you must be the Missus Pienas," Frederick continued. "Problems with your thing-a-ma-jig?"

"You went on the Egypt trip? That must have been fun. I couldn't." International travel, via magical methods and chaporones or not, was not something her mother was comfortable with. Even the boarding school concept found more commanly in Great Britain meant Obderedria was gone from her mother for too long of a time. Even by the time Obderedria had heard about the trip and imagined going there with a single daydream instance, there would have been no time to get her a passport.

Philo looked positively beet red when his father started on the Hufflepuff story. She hadn't heard the reason why Philo wasn't in the same house as her but smiled nonetheless. No one had ever called her hair 'sportive' before.

Her mother answered the question in a tone of voice she used whenever she felt flustered. It made Obderedria cringe. "My phone? I didn't mean to leave it on but if Doug's calling me--I told him I was off of work, we were supposed to get Obderedria's things today--"

"School shopping?" asked Frederick. "More than happy to take Obderedria to get her things if you need to handle business. I can make an appeal to the goblins to withdraw from her account."

Patricia had a frozen, deer in headlights look. She made a small sound. "Bwuh? I-I- Thank you for the offer, but I don't know if that'll work. It's mostly a transfer based account, from pounds, but I'm the only one authorized by the...creatures to move funds into her account." The phone shrilled like a boiling kettle. "I have to get this out of here, I can't have all my contacts erased!"

"You aren't going more than a few blocks, are you?" Frederick asked smoothly. "We can watch Obderedria while you check your phone. You can use this to send word if you need to leave or when you're coming back." He produced a leaf of parchment. "This is the memo paper we use at the ministry. Just need to do a few tweaks." He tapped it with his wand, muttering. "Touch this please, little lady."

Obderedria pinched the corner of it, unsure of what was supposed to happen, but Mr. Falkin took in back within a second. "Now it'll come back to her when you're ready. After you write your message you just fold along these lines into an aeroplane, give it a toss and it's off. We can keep an eye on her."

Patricia took the parchment, absolutley bewildered. "That's very generous of you but I don't even know your name--"

"Frederick Falkin! You've already met Philo, that's my other son over there Foster. There's no way the kids could get in trouble in Diagon Alley and we'll keep 'em clear of Knockturn."

There was more instances of Patricia gushing thank-yous and Frederick jovially rebuffing "No trouble" and encouraging Patricia on her way.

"You'll be sure to stay with the Falkins, sweetie?" Patricia said finally. Obderedria nodded and her mother scooted out the door to the London street.

Philo wasn't sure what he was feeling. Elated that he had a chance to hang out with Drea, or nervous as he now recognized that he had been banking on it. And then what to do. All of Diagon stretched out with its numerous shops and prospects but his ideas of what to do suddenly became thin line narrow.

One of the rare occasions he was happy for family to start things off. "Right oh!" said Frederick, "We'll just pop out the brick wall and see what there is." All throughout the walk to the back door and the wand tapping Frederick narrated, Foster and the younger kids following behind. "I've got business at the bank, so why don't you keep an eye on them Foster until I get back. Don't you roll your eyes at me, young man, you may be fully grown now but I am still your father."

Frederick went off towards the bank while Foster stood there a moment. "Right. Don't run off too far yet, I'm going to buy a paper." There was a news stall nearby, one of several carts along the Alley. "A Prophet, then," he told the attendant. Then his voice dropped a register. "What do you have on your 'low shelf' titles?"

Philo blushed. He knew exactly what his brother was after and he didn't want Obderedria to see that. Foster was a brother that liked the three B's: Beer, Brooms, and Babes. His room back home was still wallpapered with centerfolds, some tackier than others. It was tiring, seeing those pictures. It was all too much to explain. He steered Drea in a different direction.

"Err, let's go this way," he prompted, although he wasn't going any particular direction. Looking back to keep Foster in sight, he almost bumped into a fruit cart.

Obderedria followed closely behind Philo and his family. Another chance to be with a friend's family in the wizarding world. At least, she hoped Philo would consider her a friend Most of their instances had been muttered hellos and brief conversations.

"What did you want to do?" she asked, like Philo having no clear ideas what to do while Mr. Falkin was at the bank. "Have you done your school shopping yet? I guess mine has been postponed."

Philo wasn't paying attention, however. He had an odd look in his eye as his brother bought a paper and a 'low shelf' item whatever that was.

"Err, let's go this way," and her face tingled when he grabbed her hand to lead her away, like a fraction of a blush. Why she almost blushed she couldn't say, it wasn't like it was any different from a playground game like Red Rover. They passed two doors before Philo bumped into a fruit cart, being distracted from looking over his shoulder. Maybe he hadn't realized what his hand had done.

"Are you alright?" Obderedria asked, although he looked okay. She took in the sight of the produce on the cart. "How about a snack, it looks cheap." She dug her pocket change out of another leg pocket in backpack-Gromit's leg and one coin got her three Dirigible Plums, kept on the vine so they hung there like little orange balloons.

"I always thought these were so funny. Aren't you going to buy anything?"

"Oof," Philo said upon impact with the cart. Drea asked if he was okay. "Yeah, I'm fine." He flexed his arms, realizing that he had dragged Drea over here by the hand and her strained expression, his interpretation.

"Um..." Philo let go of her hand, looking about desperate for some kind of distraction. All he was met with was Drea's backpack, a mouthless dog staring at him with an unreadable expression.

"Snack?" he mouthed, finally comprehending the fruit cart. He had some pocket change but nothing looked appetizing. He bit his lip.

Is this a date? It's a date, isn't it when it's a boy and a girl and they hanging out buying food somewhere. Cripes! I didn't ask for a date. What were you supposed to do on dates? Maybe Alvis would know something, he'd been making googly eyes at Cyhirae Trishna the whole tour abroad.

"Aren't you going to buy anything?"

A piercing question through his thoughts but it was a topic to give Philo the ability to hold conversations again. "Not...really. I don't like fruit too much in general. It...spoils too quickly."

There was a scoff from the witch handing Drea plums that he tried to ignore. He reached out for a new topic. "D-Does the dog have a name?"

Brilliant, Falkin. You've gone from fruit to stuffed animals that act as personal luggage.

Obderedria frowned at Philo. "You don't like it spoiling? Why don't you eat it before it spoils?" Her and mum never liked seeing food going to waste, so even though they did most of the shopping at a larger supermarket, they looked for local green grocers when buying produce. A sure way to make sure it was fresh, unlike the greens at a larger market. "Wouldn't you have some magical way of keeping it from spoiling?"

Her face wrinkled in confusion for a moment before realizing what he meant. "Oh, this is Gromit. There are these animated shorts on television," she could tell this would be a lengthy process to explain to a wizard born student, "where, it's this man called Wallace and his dog Gromit, and they invent these wild mechanical contraptions out of their flat. They've been to the moon and turned the second floor into a windmill for their bakery and mutated a rabbit," she toned it down, "well, all the characters are made out of this clay stuff called plasticine, and each object in the picture is moved very slightly before they take a picture, and practically a million of these pictures become the frames of the film. The process takes a really long time so that's why there's only one movie and four featurettes, plus other clips and commercials."

Upon reflection, she felt odd for how she could understand how a penguin wanted to use a pair of ex-NASA trousers to frame Wallace for a jewel robbery and Gromit could build a never-ending model train track with only one box of pieces, yet still struggle with all the surprises the magical world had, like using owls for post or teleporting through fireplaces or having sweets that did more to you then just increase your sugar intake or walking through walls to get to a train station. She must be bewildering the heck out of Philo.

"Here." Her voice dropped to above a whisper in an effort to stop talking nonsense. She handed him a dirigible plum. "I bought that but I'm giving it to you so you better eat it."

"I dunno, it's just...I don't like fruit when its soft and about to turn. I like it firm, but it softens so quickly." Philo didn't pay to much attention to what his mother did in the kitchen so we couldn't give a full answer. "Well, you can't keep, say, a banana from spoiling forever, time marches on. And it's hard to transfigure rotten food back from the brink."

Philo was taken with her description of these characters. "He builds all these things without magic? And his dog helps?" That sounded...kinda fun, actually. Building with magic would hopefully make the process easier. But he still didn't see how the dog could help, unless it was an animagus or *gulp* werewolf.

Then she handed him a plum. Philo stared at it for a long moment, unsure of what to do. He had just said he couldn't stand fruit but she was adamant and gave him something she had bought. Given what he heard of muggle money to wizard gold exchanges, she sounded like she had a low allowance like him, so to be so generous. Did this mean she liked him?

He had to reciprocate the gesture, although why did it have to be fruit? Philo grinned awkwardly, slowly brought the plum to his lips and took a bite. Juice exploded into his mouth, more than he had anticipated so he had to suck it up to keep it from dribbling down his chin and shirt. The dirigible plum had an airiness to the fruit flesh and it was too sweet for his liking. But he tried to smile.

"Um, yum?" was all he could manage.

Philo didn't have a good answer on the fruit. Maybe Obderedria should try asking Ayla, Dahlia's sister about it, she was always baking something. Or ask the house elves once school began. Although she had never been in the kitchen, no matter how tempting the lovely smells from the cooking were. It seemed rude and slightly against the rules, although she'd heard tons of students did so. And Ayla would need someplace to bake, if not some other room somewhere.

"Wallace does. He can because he's a cartoon character. Well, technically."

Obderedria watched Philo carefully as he ate. She smiled faintly when he seemed to like it. "Aren't they good? I've thought of trying to grow some at home, but I can barely manage my peach tree. I think anything you could use peaches for you could substitute dirigible plums. Jam, slices on oatmeal, cinnamon cobbler with cream cheese frosting..." Obderedria could practically smell that last recipe. There was a sent of thick cake and sweetened cream cheese along with the freshness of the plum Philo had eaten. She could get lost in this smell.

Until the moment was interrupted by a flapping paper plane nearly hitting her in the eye. "Oh, that's mum." Obderedria opened it, skimming over the lines. After a moment she said "I have to meet her out front, sorry. That wasn't work calling her that was the landlord reporting that the neighbors downstairs where being busted by the police. Mum wants us to check if anythings been stolen and we might have to answer questions."

She quickly pocketed her things. Recalling she had two plums left she bit one and left the other in the pocket with her wand. "Good to see you Philo, see you at school. Tell your dad that I have to go."

Obderedria smiled at him once before hurrying off.

Cartoon. Sounded like it might be a portrait or something like that.

"It's not, that bad." Juice was dribbling down Philo's hand and he sucked it up with his lips. Drea apparently liked fruit, if she wanted to grow her own at home. She had kept that dwarf fruit tree after finals when Philo had butchered his. Not a good thing for his grade.

She seemed happy, which in turn made Philo happy. Drea had a sweet voice when there was enough volume behind it, unlike her usual whispers in class. If this moment would last a little longer...

But then the memo dad had altered came flying in. Philo hoped that it said Drea could stay for a little bit. That wasn't the case. "Wait, your neighbors are being arrested?" That sounded dangerous but Drea had yet to sound too worried. She had to leave.

He waved half-heartedly. "Sure. See you in classes." He watched her go, that odd dog shaped bag staring at him as she disappeared around the corner.

Obderedria had smiled at him.

There was still a third of the fruit around the pit. Philo swallowed the rest of it, prying the flesh off the pit with his tongue before spitting out the stone. The sugary juice tickled the back of his throat. It wasn't that bad. Or at least, not as bad as he thought it would be. Philo grinned too.

Foster came up, his mag rolled in his copy of the Prophet. "Where's your friend, squirt?"

"Her mom called her. Something about their neighbors being arrested."

"Shame. What is the species coming to? Guess we should find dad before he pisses off the goblins." The last thing the Pienas would need would be financial problems on top of possibly having their flat robbed. As the brothers headed to the bank Foster spoke up again. "She's kinda cute. Reminds me of Felicia when she was eight."

Philo almost tripped over a cobblestone. "What?" Felicia once looked like Drea? The always older bony sister he had known that wrestled Hippogriffs for a living? Okay, that last one was a stretch.

"Well not the hair, obviously, but Felicia had some puppy fat when she was a kid. Grew out of it by the time you could talk."

Philo wasn't sure how to process this revelation. The years before he was born, or before the years he had established memories of, were very alien. Would Drea possibly grow out of her current size? When Philo was six Felicia had been twelve and she had been lanky then.

Maybe not. Philo pushed these thoughts aside as he focused on what was the most special to him. When Drea had shared a dirigible plum with him. And smiled.