With a sigh, she looked down at the parchment and badly formed ceramic ashtray on her cluttered coffee table. At least, she thought it was an ashtray. You could never be sure with Albus' portkeys. It was a genuine letter, she could be sure of that. She looked over everything at least five times with all the proper spells. The only thing that pinged on her radar was a bit of dust that turned out to be lemon drop residue.

Groaning, she decided the only possible thing to do was make a dreaded phone call. Her cell hardly rang once before there was an answer at the other end.

"Rue, honey, is that you?" An elderly woman's voice answered on the other end. "What's wrong, you never call? Do you need money again? I would have thought that-"

"No, Mom. It's not money." She leaned back against the torn blue leather couch. While it was an eyesore, she couldn't bring herself to throw it away. Even after the settlement she received from her last deployment. It wasn't a matter of money, it was sentiment.

Her mother tittered on the other end. "Well honey, what is it then? It nearly gave me a heart attack when your name flashed up on your fathers portable. I thought you'd been found dead or summat, and their first instinct was to call your parent's, you know?" She was making this more difficult. "Now come on Melarue, spit it out."

"I've received a letter from Albus." Melarue finally said, after a pause.

"Oh darling, that's wonderful!" Her mom explained. "You know, when he asked for your address I hardly thought he'd actually send post. I mean, he could have just sent you an owl."

The hazelnut haired girl began to hit her head against the wood paneling behind the leather couch, repeatedly.

"Melarue Janie Embrouillé, you stop hitting your head on the wall this instant. You know what your doctor said about that last time." Her mother chastised.

Shen groaned again. "Mom, I was 12."

"Yes, Mel. I know, but puberty was very hard for you and you began to act out." She began to ramble. "I mean, first finding out that you had magical talents and whatnot with Pa and I being squibs, and then you became a woman and-"

"Mom!" She yelled, "He offered me a job."

"Well of course he did, dear. You were in the army, a very powerful spy, and you trained for many, many years. You traveled the world, you have multiple degrees of study, I mean you can play the banjo I don't think I can think of one other person who knows how to play the ban-" She was off again.

This was pointless. "Can you put Dad on, please?" There was a pause and then a maternal sigh. When she could sense her father's presence on the other end of the line, Melarue breathed in. "Hi Pa."

"My baby girl." She could her the smile in her old father's voice. "I hear Albus wants you to come work at the school."

Her father's voice calmed her anxiety and she began to contemplate the proposal. There was silence for a few moments, until finally. "I'm scared, Dad." The words hung in the air. The squib's daughter had been through a lot, and that weight hung heavy over everyone close to her, especially her parents.

Mr. Embrouillé coughed the emotion out of his voice before continuing. "I think you should go for it, bear."

So her mind was made up. After setting down her cellphone on the table, her eyes traced over the wrinkled letter in front of her.

Should you accept my offer of the position for Defense Against The Dark Arts Professor, please send reply. As this role is now a partnership teaching position, I will promptly return a timetable for your meetings with your new co-professor. He has done the duty of preparing most of the first weeks curriculum. The port key enclosed should activate one week to terms beginning, on Monday at 1:00PM, giving you adequate time to prepare your belongings and make any arrangements necessary.

Should you refuse, please keep the portkey as a token of our continued friendship. And do give old Uncle Albus a visit once in awhile, yeah?

Yours,

Albus

Melarue couldn't help cracking a smile and looking at the badly formed ashtray. It was made from red clay and looked to be hand painted in soft yellow and turquoise triangles. "Dammit Albus, I don't want your pottery." She said to the ceiling before reaching for her forgotten glass on the table. The girl let the sweetness of the now warm white wine trace over her tongue. With an audible noise that sounded a lot like a "bah" she summoned an ink pen and scrawled 'Sure.' at the bottom of the page, signing it simply 'M.' before calling over her owl to return the letter to her old family friend.