A/N: I know it's been forever. Please don't hurt me.

Madam Rosmerta watched with mild amusement as Maura's mouth dropped open slightly in surprise with the new information. From her few encounters with the girl, she had already surmised that Maura came from exceedingly good breeding, and watching her fight her gut reaction in order to remain composure was somewhat tickling. Rosmerta got the distinct impression that the potential for something a little more than friendship existed between Maura and Jane, and she was determined to give them at least some exposure to the queer sector of the magical world.

'You're married!' Maura finally spoke, hurriedly moulding her face into something – anything – that didn't look like shock.

'Sure am,' Rosmerta smiled. 'Two years next month. Thought it was about time someone made an honest woman of me.'

In Maura's defence, the innkeeper's being spoken for by another woman was not the entire reason for her surprise. From the first moments they'd met, Rosmerta had given her the distinct impression of independence, and Maura hadn't been able to picture a husband on the scene. And at least on that account, she realised, she was right.

'It's very nice to meet you, Mrs… Hooch, was it?'

'Oh, no no, Rolanda, please. Nobody ever calls me Mrs Hooch. Madam Hooch, sometimes, from old students, but-'

'Oh, are you a teacher?' Maura interjected, excited to find a point of interest.

'I was a teacher, at Hogwarts.'

'What did you-'

'Flying instructor, and quidditch coach and referee,' Rolanda replied with a look of reverence. 'I'm semi-retired now, though. Contracted part-time by the Ministry, and I do a spot of private flying tuition. This is a lovely broom you've got. Some might call it old, but it's a solid piece of equipment. Practical, faithful… they don't make many like this anymore.'

'Oh, this isn't mine,' Maura hurried to explain before Rolanda was under the impression she could hold her own in a broom-centric conversation.

'It's her friend Jane's,' Rosmerta explained. 'Jane's run off to London for a wedding not fifteen minutes ago, and left what I assume is among her most prized possessions in Maura's care.'

'I see. Are you much of a flyer, Maura?' Rolanda turned to her, and Maura could see the brightness that the topic of broomsticks had brought to her eyes.

'Not much at all, I'm afraid,' Maura shook her head. 'I grew up in a muggle town, so it wasn't often safe to practice flying in the yard. My first real opportunity was at my school in America. I took the required lessons, but books had well and truly captured my interest by then, and quidditch was rather low down on my list of priorities.'

'Which American school did you attend? I met the flying instructor from the Salem Witches' Institute last year, at the International Quidditch conference.'

'The Fort Acton Academy of Magic, closer to the East. Our flying instructor was Professor Headen Thistle. Perhaps you've heard of him? He's an animagus: a bat, and quite often he would transform so he could stand on the ends of our brooms and observe our flying technique.'

'I haven't, no, but I'll admit that's a very unique method of teaching. The instructor from Salem was telling me about the Little League Quidditch immersion programme the US has recently implemented.'

Maura nodded. 'There were advertisements everywhere when I left. The American Ministry wants to give muggle-born or half-blood children the chance to have more magical contact prior to the commencement of their formal magical education.'

'A cosy cover,' Rolanda chuckled in amusement. 'I'm sure they're just trying to maximise their chances of winning a World Cup somewhere down the line. It's been quite a while since the American Nats took home anything shiny.'

'The American National Quidditch Team,' Rosmerta clarified with a good-natured laugh when she saw Maura's furrowed brow. 'Not the American Gnats; their mascot's an eagle, not a little fly.'

'Oh!' Maura shook her head in embarrassment. 'Of course. I'm sorry, quidditch isn't really my forte.'

Rosmerta smiled kindly. 'That's alright, darlin'. It wasn't mine either, until this one came along,' she jabbed a thumb in Rolanda's direction with an affectionate smile.

'It must be wonderful having so many schools in America,' Rolanda thought out loud. 'I've often wished there was another British school of magic, so that Hogwarts could have some interschool competition. The US Academy Championship must be glorious!'

'Students were certainly enthusiastic when we were hosting a match,' Maura nodded.

'How many schools do you have over there?' Rosmerta queried.

'Five,' Maura answered.

'The US has five schools?' Madam Rosmerta's eyebrows shot up. 'And we've just Hogwarts for the entire United Kingdom!'

'America has five times the population, and nearly thirty-eight times the land area,' Maura explained without skipping a beat. 'The schools are spread across the country, to allow best access, and so attendance is predominately regional. Though there are students who will travel across the country to attend a school they or their parents favour.'

'Darlin', I think our US general knowledge is lacking quite spectacularly,' Rosmerta looked at Rolanda with a laugh.

'Speak for yourself!' Rolanda protested. 'I think it's about time you saw the States. Let's go next year, after the World Cup final! I'd love to take you flying through the Grand Canyon. And you can't die happily until you've flown by Niagara Falls at night…'

'Where's the next World Cup?' Maura asked with mild interest.

'Argentina, out in the Patagonian desert. Are you interested? Your friend might be, if she owns a racing broom. Is she very involved in Quidditch at Hogwarts?'

'Yes, Jane's on the Gryffindor House team; a Beater.'

Rolanda looked suitably impressed. 'Well, I'll eat my hat if she doesn't want to see the World Cup. You let me know if you want to go, closer to the time. I moonlight at the Department of Games and Sports, down at the Ministry. With a bit of luck I could sort you a few tickets, though they won't be cheap. I'd have to promise favours for half the staff to get discounted seats just for Ros and me.'

'You'd think, after the number of times I've shut my doors to the public to let Ministry departments hold private functions here, that cheap World Cup tickets wouldn't be a completely unreasonable request,' Rosmerta huffed.

'It is the World Cup, love,' Rolanda considered. 'They're selling tickets internationally. I suppose we should be grateful we can secure seats at all.'

'Rolanda Augustina Hooch,' Rosmerta turned to her, hands on hips. 'In all our fifteen years, when have you ever been defensive of the Ministry?'

'You've been together fifteen years?' Maura interrupted before Rolanda could reply.

'Oh, yes,' Rosmerta waved a hand as if it was nothing. 'It would have been longer, but we spent a few years having pitiful flirtations. Both too blimmin' shy to do anything about it!'

'So what changed?'

'We both nearly got killed defending Hogwarts during You Know Who's Last Stand.'

'Declared undying love in a hideously soppy fashion later than evening, and we've been together ever since,' Rosmerta said proudly.

Rolanda grinned at Maura. 'She broke every man's heart in this village.'

'Oh, shush, you,' Rosmerta hit her lightly on the arm. 'If that's true, which I'm sure it isn't, it was a necessary evil, and I wouldn't change a thing.'

Maura shifted uncomfortably on her bar stool, and examined her quinoa salad intently as Rosmerta and Rolanda spent several long moments getting lost in each other's eyes.

'Right,' Rolanda broke the silence, the traces of a goofy grin still tattooing her face. 'Back to the writing desk, I'm afraid. The Prophet editor's threatened to curse Alonso if I don't have this article to her by five o'clock. Honestly, what kind of monster threatens to curse a kitten? Very glad to meet you, Maura,' she handed Jane's broomstick back across the counter. 'Good luck with your studies, and visit again soon, won't you? I'd like very much to hear how you get on flying that broomstick back to Hogwarts!'

'Ma, how do you get magical money changed into Muggle money?' Jane asked suddenly, three hours into their train ride.

'You go to the Gringotts Money Exchange in Carkitt Market. Why?'

'I told Maura I'd try to find her some strawberries in London. She's got a pet tur...tortoise, and he really likes them, but Hogsmeade's been all out every time we've gone. I was thinking I could try a Muggle shop if I can't find any in Diagon Alley.'

'That's a nice thought, Janie, but I don't know if it's still going to be open once we get there, and we won't be going back to Diagon Alley after tonight. Plus you've got to pay for every conversion, did you know that?'

'Oh,' Jane's face fell. 'How much?'

'About fifteen sickles.'

Jane only had a small pocketful of coins, with just a galleon or two thrown in the mix. She realised suddenly that she had no idea what the value of wizard money was compared to Muggle money, or what the price of strawberries was in the Muggle world. She couldn't recall if she'd even seen Muggle money before. She felt disappointment settling in her stomach. If she couldn't find any strawberries in Diagon Alley, she wouldn't be able to bring anything back for Maura.

She pulled out a few spare pieces of parchment, and spread them out on the table in front of her, preparing to begin a draft for her Muggle Studies essay. Frankie and her Ma were sitting on one side of the compartment, and so Jane was able to stretch her legs out in the empty space. She ran the feathery end of a quill back and forth along her lips, realising she had no idea where to start, and wishing she had done the assigned readings. This was due Wednesday, and she knew already she was going to need Maura's input.

'Ma,' she interrupted Angela again as her mother turned a page on her copy of Witch Holiday? magazine. 'Why do muggles need electricity?'

'I don't know,' Angela admitted after several seconds of looking thoughtful. I don't even know what electricity is. I think they need it in the city more than the country, though, and that's where the last part of the word comes from.'

'Useless,' Jane thought. She was going to have to zip straight up to the Ravenclaw common room and beg for Maura's help the moment she got back to Hogwarts on Monday. And she wouldn't even be able to come bearing strawberries. She dejectedly jotted down a few points she remembered from her classes, but her mind wandered quickly, and before she even realised what was happening she was replaying Maura's hug in a loop through her head. It was strange; usually, she despised such close contact, but she found herself hoping that a weekend away in London would warrant a hello embrace from Maura upon her return.

'Janie?' Angela set down her magazine and peered intently at her daughter. 'How are the boys this year? Have they all come back tanned after the summer?'

'We live in England, Ma,' Jane deadpanned.

'What about the boys on your Quidditch team? They must be very… muscular. Are they quite fit?'

'Really, Ma?' Jane raised a highly unimpressed eyebrow. 'We all have to be fit. Rowan drills us like we're training for the bloody World Cup qualifier.'

'Don't cuss,' Angela chastised, then pressed on. 'But, you all share a changing room. Haven't any of the lads caught your eye? In my day, I had it on good authority that the Quidditch boys walked around in nothing but their jocks. Haven't you sneaked a peek from time to time?'

'For the love of Merlin, Ma!' Jane slumped down in her seat, beyond mortified. 'This is so embarrassing! Frankie told you earlier, there isn't a single boy I have a crush on at school! Drop it, won't you?'

Angela huffed, picking up her magazine again, and opening it randomly onto an article about Morocco. 'Is it that much of a crime to want to bond with my daughter about her teenage crushes?'

'Yes!' Jane answered emphatically, without skipping a beat.

'I was speaking to Susan Lowry the other week, you know, Lora's mother?'

Jane's face was blank.

'She's third year, I think. Maybe fourth. Lora Lowry? She's a Scottish girl, Hufflepuff.'

Jane mutely shook her head.

'Well, Susan's very close with her daughter, and Lora's been writing home about two young men she's got her eye on.'

'Good for her,' Jane muttered with a scowl, resting her elbow on the table and propping her chin up with one hand.

'I was jealous, Janie!'

'I'm not here for your entertainment, Ma! I'm not going to tell you about checking people out in the changing rooms! Why don't you grill Frankie for once?'

A cheshire-like grin began to appear on Angela's face. 'So you are interested in one of the boys on your Quidditch team!'

'Ugghhh,' Jane slapped her spare hand onto her forehead in exasperation. 'When I start dating someone, I'll tell you, alright? Until then, butt out of my love life!'

That Saturday evening found Maura tucked away in her favourite corner of the library, joined mostly by fifth year students who had been successfully intimidated by their OWLs. As was usual for her, Maura had already completed her assignments and readings for the week by Friday evening, and so her weekends usually served as leisure time for interest reading. After her encounter with Rolanda Hooch at The Three Broomsticks, she had been thinking about reading up on the history of the Quidditch World Cup, or perhaps the variety of racing broomsticks available on the current market. She wasn't sure how racing brooms differed markedly from regular travelling brooms, and she did have some curiosity about why Rolanda had been so impressed with Jane's model.

Upon browsing the library's range of flying-related texts however, she realised there was something more useful she could be doing. Jane, she knew, had a Muggle Studies composition due on Wednesday about the reliance of Muggles on electricity. She also strongly suspected that Jane had done very few, if any, of the readings, and would be very stuck when she came to write the assignment at the last minute on Tuesday evening. Maura did have sympathy for Jane's position: Muggle Studies was notorious for being an easy subject, but when you came from a family whose pure bloodedness could be traced back close to a millennium, that complicated things somewhat. Jane probably hadn't even seen a power socket before, let alone used or directly observed electricity. Maura took a fresh piece of parchment, and with her favourite quill, began to construct a very detailed essay template to send to Jane by owl, so that it might arrive in time for her to make a start on it during the train journey home.

'There's my Beater!' Frank grinned as Angela, Jane, and Frankie stepped off the train and onto platform 9 ¾.

'Hey, Pop,' Jane smiled broadly as her father ruffled her hair.

Frankie got an obligatory hair tousling too, and Angela stepped forward for a peck on the cheek.

'Where's Tommy?' she looked around the platform.

'I dunno,' Frank shrugged, then indicated a general area over his shoulder. 'Over there somewhere. Said he saw a giant rat.'

'Thomas Edwin Rizzoli!' Angela pre-emptively scolded, putting her hands on her hips and marching over to investigate what her youngest was doing behind a brick pillar. 'You get back here and say hello to Janie and Frankie!'

Tommy wandered into view with hunched shoulders, hands in his pockets, and a bit of a scowl on his face. 'Hi,' he muttered without looking up.

Jane made concerned eye contact with Frankie, before looking back to her youngest brother. 'How's it going, Tommy? Bet it's pretty great finally having a room to yourself.'

'Yeah, and now you can eat dinner at a normal pace because nobody's racing you for seconds,' Frankie added enthusiastically.

Tommy shrugged again, before looking up briefly. 'It's boring. Are you really in Hufflepuff?'

'Yep,' Frankie nodded, opening up his rucksack and pulling out a black and yellow striped scarf. 'It's actually pretty great. You can wear this if you want.'

Tommy's eyes lit up for a quick second. 'Really?'

'Sure,' Frankie walked over to loop it around his brother's neck. 'There, it suits you!'

'Ma, look!' Tommy almost skipped over to her with delight. 'Look, I'm in Hufflepuff! Can I go back with them? Ma, please? Just for one day?'

'Don't start again,' Frank said roughly. 'And don't encourage him, Frankie.'

Frankie's jaw fell open. 'I wasn't-'

'Come on, come on, let's get a move on,' Frank ushered them all forwards. 'I'm dying for an ale at The Hopping Pot.'

The Hopping Pot was full to bursting. Located down a side street of Diagon Alley; Carkitt Market, the Rizzolis had arrived in time for the dinner rush, and Frank had to elbow his way through the crowd and glare at a little old wizard in order to secure them a table. He came back from the bar a little while later with an enormous tankard of ale, and two jugs of butter beer. A barmaid approached their table before long with a small cauldron of steaming stew, and three cut and buttered loaves of bread.

As three hungry kids dove for the food, and Angela thanked the young woman, a hurried shushing swept through the room as the opening bars of the Wizarding Wireless Network News chimed into the crowd.

'Good evening Britain!' the familiar voice of Lee Jordan crackled through from the broadcasting station in Hogsmeade. 'It's seven o'clock on Saturday the fifth of October twenty thirteen, and boy do I have some news for you tonight! We received word here at WWN News less than an hour ago from the senior Quidditch correspondent for The Daily Prophet Ginny Potter, that Moldova is out of the running for next year's Quidditch World Cup!'

Jane's mouth fell open and she dropped a slice of bread into the stew as the room erupted in raucous chatter. A group of men at the bar began to howl in protest as though they were in agony, and the bar's owner had to perform an amplifying charm on his voice to get everybody to pipe down so they could hear the remainder of the news segment.

'…among the favourites to win the 427th Quidditch World Championship after their 2010 victory. A particularly nasty bout of the viciously contagious dragon pox has broken out in the Moldovan training camp, and the National Team will be unable to make their qualifying games due to strict quarantine! A team of Moldova's best Healers have been working round the clock to limit the effects of the illness, but the International Confederation of Wizards' Quidditch Committee, the International Association of Quidditch, and the Federation Internationale de Quidditch Association have all verbally agreed, and are in the process of issuing formal statements, that Moldova will be forced to withdraw from the competition!'

'China's going to be having a field day!' Frankie exclaimed excitedly.

Tommy looked at him blankly. 'Why?'

'China lost to Moldova in the last final. You were only six, honey,' Angela explained.

'I don't think so,' Jane shook her head. 'China only made it to the finals last time because they had that amazing Keeper and that ridiculously talented Chaser. What were their names, Pop?'

'Way-Way and Ting-a-Ling,' Frank snorted as the bottom of his tankard got closer to the ceiling.

'Right, Weiwei Shen and Ting Cheng,' Jane ignored his poor attempt at humour. 'And they pretty much carried the entire team, but now they're both retired. I'll be surprised if China manages to even qualify.'

'So who are you rooting for then, Janie?' Frank belched, before taking a slice of bread to scoop out some stew. 'My money's on Brazil.'

'You always say that!' Angela protested. 'And they never come through for you! Brazil made the quarter finals once, Frank, in 1994. Apart from that, which was a fluke, I'm sure, they haven't qualified at all in your lifetime!'

Frank shook his head. 'Two words Ange, two new words: Alejandra Alonso. Plus Diaz and Flores… Chaser dream team. This is Brazil's year. Tell her I'm right, Janie, go on.'

'I think he's right, Ma,' Jane admitted, attacking a tough lump of mutton with her molars as she spoke. 'Brazil's gonna qualify, and I reckon they'll make it to the quarter finals. Maybe the semis, if they get their shit together, and-'

'Jane Clementine, what have I told you about cussing?'

'Sorry, Ma. I'd put a galleon or two on the USA qualifying as well, but those Beaters, ugh, I don't know how they made the national team. They're gonna drag America down if they don't up their game.'

'So who do you reckon's gonna win the thing?' Frank asked again, getting a little impatient.

'Oh, Bulgaria,' Jane answered, as though it was obvious. 'Krum wouldn't come out of retirement if he didn't think Bulgaria had a damn good shot. But I'm rooting for Wales.'

Frankie smirked. 'Only because of Gwenog Jones.'

'Yeah, so what? She's amazing, Frankie!'

'I thought she'd retired?' Angela frowned.

'She's retired from the Holyhead Harpies,' Jane nodded. 'But now she's managing the Welsh Nats. This World Cup is going to be so amazing!'

'Frankie?' Frank made to dip another hunk of bread into the cauldron. 'Who's got your vote?'

'Japan all the way,' Frankie said confidently as he poured himself some butterbeer.

'Japan?' Frank repeated sceptically. 'I don't know, Frankie. They were pretty good in '94, but-'

'Those Beaters!' Jane gushed. 'The Takahashi twins – now that's what a solid Beating team looks like. Somebody should show America.'

'Japan for 2014,' Frankie said decisively. 'I'll put gold on it, even. How about you, Ma?'

'Oh, I don't know. Everything about Quidditch I learned from your father!' Angela protested. 'I'll stay patriotic and say England.'

Jane, Frankie, and their father all exploded into snorts of laughter. Frankie had just taken a gulp of butterbeer, and was now trying to fight his way through a mixture of choking, laughing, and panicking.

'That's cute, Ange,' Frank wiped an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye as Jane thumped her brother repeatedly on the back. 'I don't think England's qualified even once since the dawn of the World Cup.'

'Well then it's about time they got their turn in the spotlight, isn't it!' Angela replied indignantly. 'Tommy, honey, which country do you think's going to win the Cup?'

Tommy sat and thought on it for a moment, wanting to say something smart to impress his siblings. They probably didn't even think he could name more than five countries.

'Africa,' he said finally, proudly, waiting for the intelligent debate it would spark.

But nothing of the sort happened. 'Africa's not a country, honey,' Angela explained patiently. 'It's a continent. That means it's a big piece of land made up of lots of countries.'

'Maura would know how many, and then she'd name them all and tell you their capitals,' Jane decided to add in as a fun fact.

Tommy started to blush with embarrassment. 'But South Africa's a country,' he defended almost angrily.

Angela nodded calmly. 'It can get a bit confusing. Do you have any other places you think will win?'

'Moldova!' he replied. He had just heard about that on the radio. It must be a country that played in the World Cup.

'What the heck are you on about?' Frank scowled. 'Have you got ears or not? We just heard they've been kicked out of the tournament!'

'That's what the wireless was saying,' Frankie tried to show his brother some kindness. 'But it was pretty loud in here, so you probably just didn't hear. The Moldovan team's got dragon pox, and so they can't play in this World Cup.'

Tommy did in fact have ears, and the tips were already burning red. Angry tears prickled behind his eyes and before anyone could stop him, he was up from the table, and running out to the street with a big lump in his throat.

'Tommy!' Angela tried in vain to reach out for him from across the table, but the nine year old was up and gone.

Jane had already jumped up though, and was winding her way through the densely packed pub. 'I'm on it!' she called back over her shoulder.

'I'm sorry!' Maura insisted emphatically an hour or so later, as she sat cross legged on the floor of Professor Korsak's office. 'I know they're your favourite! I've been checking for them every week!'

Bass peered at her disbelievingly, and made some slow steps towards the pile of exotic grasses and vegetables that were part of his staple diet.

'Don't you walk away from me, Mister!' Maura put her hands on her hips. 'You know fruit isn't good for you anyway! Strawberries are a treat. A sometimes food, Bass!'

The tortoise looked at her reproachfully.

'I know,' she sighed. 'I'd probably want treats if I lived in an office, too. But it's nice and quiet in here, and Professor Korsak has been extremely good to provide you with accommodation… You wouldn't prefer to live with my mother, would you? I think you might have starved to death by now if I had left you in Bray.'

Bass took a mouthful of food and made to move back towards Maura, who reached out to pat his shell.

'It's not forever,' she promised, and leaned down to touch a kiss to his head. 'And strawberries as soon as I can. I'll visit you again tomorrow,' she stood up. 'Right now I need to go and post this to Jane.'

Jane emerged from the crowd in The Hopping Pot into the cool air of Carkitt Market. It wasn't often that she came here at night. Usually it was with her Ma on Christmas Eve for last minute shopping, or when she was younger, sometimes her Pop would let her come with him if he had a plumbing job in Diagon Alley, which normally had to be completed outside of business hours.

At Christmastime, Diagon Alley and most of its little offshoots like the Market were lit up with fairy lights, and a warm glow from shops with extended holiday hours spilled out onto the cobblestones to make winter evening shopping inviting. In October though, there were just the usual street lanterns, and the few businesses still open were pubs full to bursting with intoxicated patrons. Jane had expected this, but poor Tommy must be terrified at the loud men and long shadows.

She looked around the open Market square, but her brother was nowhere to be seen. There was only one way he could have gone, and Jane took off at a sprint towards Diagon Alley, glancing into darkened doorways and keeping a wide eye out for shady looking characters who might have ideas about what to do with a young squib lacking guardians. She burst out onto the main shopping trail and swept her eyes past the deserted shops around her. At one end of the Alley was The Leaky Cauldron, which Jane knew was familiar to Tommy, but she imagined he would be wanting to stay far away from people right now. She turned in the opposite direction and sprinted almost as far down as the Alley would allow before she found her brother.

Tommy was standing very much alone with his hands in his pockets, crying, shivering, and looking forlornly into the window of Ollivander's. He jumped and looked over his shoulder fearfully as Jane's shadow crept up next to him on the building, but seeing he wasn't in any danger, his face arranged itself back into a defiant scowl and he turned his back to her once more.

'Go away,' he choked out feebly through a stuffy nose, and wiped it on his sleeve.

'Come on back, Tommy,' Jane hugged herself against the cold. 'We're all waiting for you.'

'Waiting to laugh at me,' he sniffed.

'Nobody was laughing at you, Tommy. Pop was just being Pop. You know how he gets.'

'He does it all the time!'

Jane took a few steps forward to stand behind her brother, and he didn't shove her away. 'How many days has he had work this week?'

'One. Maybe two. Yeah, two.'

Jane felt her heart sink a little. 'That's why he's pissy, then. It's not you, Tommy, okay? Okay?'

A small pair of shoulders were shrugged quickly. 'Yeah, okay.'

'Why are you standing outside Ollivander's, anyway?'

Tommy answered after a long pause. 'They sell wands.'

'Tommy…' Jane was on the brink of exasperation. 'Look, I'm not trying to be mean, okay? I'm not. But a wand isn't going to do anything more for you than a stick you find in the garden. I know it's dragonshit, but that's just the way it is.'

Her brother turned from the window then, and in a rare act of closeness, wrapped his arms around her middle. He buried his face in her stomach, and soon his entire body proceeded to shake with sobs. 'I don't want to be a squib!' he coughed out into Jane's jumper. 'I don't want to go to Muggle school! I want a wand and I wanna go to Hogwarts with you and Frankie!'

'I know, Tommy, I wish you could come to Hogwarts as well,' Jane did her best to comfort her distraught brother. There had been so much surprise invasion of her personal space this weekend! 'I wish you could use a wand, and I wish your name was in the Book of Admittance, and I wish you didn't have to stay home by yourself.'

She pulled Tommy down to sit next to her on the step of Ollivander's, her teeth beginning to chatter involuntarily. 'Quit crying, Tommy, and listen. You can throw as many tantrums as you want, but it's not going to make you magical. You should really be in Muggle school right now, so that there's less stuff to catch up on. I know Ma and Pop are just waiting to see if they can squeeze any magic out of you sometime in the next two years, but I think it's pretty pointless. We're pureblood, and I reckon if it was gonna happen, it would have happened ages ago.'

'I don't wanna go to Muggle school!' Tommy stubbornly reiterated.

'I know you don't! I wouldn't wanna go, either. But it's gonna happen, whether you like it or not. So you have to make a choice. After you graduate Muggle school, are you going to come back and work in the magical world? Or are you going to stay and live in the Muggle world?'

He looked up at her, somewhat panicked. 'I don't know! I'm only nine!'

'I know, Tommy, for Merlin's sake! You don't have to decide now. Just think about it. Muggles have plumbers too, same as wizards. Pop could teach you the ropes, and you could do Muggle and magical plumbing! Something like that, I don't know.'

'I don't know if I want to be a plumber,' Tommy stared with a fixed gaze on a cobblestone.

'Yeah, but do you get what I mean?' Jane asked, beginning to lose her temper. 'If you're gonna live in the magical world once you grow up, you're gonna need to be able to do a non-magical job that magical people will pay for. Like plumbing, you know?'

Tommy just frowned. 'Pop uses magic to do his plumbing, though.'

'Never mind,' Jane stood up with a huff. 'Can we go back now, please? It's bloody freezing, and I can't feel my toes.'

Her little brother stood up obediently, seeming to be lost in thought. These were two qualities that he rarely exhibited, and Jane was more concerned than before. They walked in silence back down the dark, mostly empty street, and were intercepted by Frank near the entrance to Knockturn Alley.

'There you are!' he almost sounded relieved. 'Thought I was going to have to go searching down there,' he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. 'Don't do that again, Tommy. This place isn't safe at night, and you nearly made your mother cry.'

'Sorry, Pop,' Tommy apologised. 'I got angry.'

'I know you did, and you're going to de-gnome the garden for it once we get back,' Frank turned his attention to Jane. 'Did you run into any trouble?'

'Naw, it was fine. We're just really cold now.'

'Well come on, then,' Frank had effectively recovered from his little fright, and strode ahead with a single beckon. 'I didn't buy stew for you so it could warm up the air.'

'Janie?' Tommy asked quietly, looking up at her as they followed their father. 'If I live with the Muggles when I grow up, are you allowed to come and visit me?'

'Course I'm allowed!' Jane was surprised. 'I'll come visit you all the time.'

'Can I visit you?'

Jane nodded. 'Whenever you like. If I'm not busy playing for the Holyhead Harpies, that is.'

He almost smiled. 'Will you teach me about the Quidditch World Cup this weekend?'

'You betcha. Want a piggyback?'

She crouched down without waiting for an answer, knowing it would be a yes. When they returned to The Hopping Pot, Tommy wore an expression of calmness that hadn't been seen for months.

It was the wee hours when Jane was woken by the sharp tapping of a beak against glass. She was at her Aunt's house, sleeping on a sofa bed with both of her brothers, next to the fire. It wasn't working out to be the most comfortable of sleeps, and in her dozing state, she was seriously considering cocooning herself in blankets and sleeping on the floor. It took her a while to recognise that the sound wasn't coming from a dream, and she stumbled groggily over to the window to let the owl in.

'You're one of the school owls,' Jane squinted in the dark, noting the characteristic Hogwarts band around the owl's left leg. 'I'll see if I can find you some owl treats. Is this for me, or Frankie?'

The owl relinquished its burden, and Jane grinned widely as she recognised Maura's impeccable handwriting on the envelope. She fumbled around in the kitchen, sourcing food and drink and a perch for the owl to sleep on, before ripping the letter open.

'Dear Jane,

Please forgive me if I'm wrong, but I've made the assumption – however foolishly – that you are not up to date with your Muggle Studies composition on the reliance of Muggles on electricity, due this coming Wednesday. With the intention of relieving you of excessive stress, and occupying you on your return journey to Hogwarts, I have spent the evening constructing an essay template, which you should find included with this note. Should you need it, and I swear I have good faith in your academic abilities, but should you need further assistance, I will be more than happy to provide it when you are back in the castle. Though of course, I predict it will be beneficial for you to lay some groundwork prior to this. If you have completed your essay already, feel free to disregard this correspondence, or further incorporate any of the points I have outlined into your existing work.
Enjoy the espousal tomorrow, or today perhaps, by the time this note reaches you, but do hurry back! I'm a little worried about being a third tyre (is that the correct expression?) to Frost and Anna, and I'm somewhat surprised to find that I miss you already!

Yours,
Maura.

PS – In case you were worried, your racing broom remains unscathed. I intend to keep it safely at my bedside until it is back in your possession. See you soon!'

Jane laughed out loud in delight. Of course Maura would be formal even in letters of a mere social nature. She examined the second piece of parchment, and gaped when she saw the detail Maura had gone into. This template might give her an E! Maybe even an O if she did it right! There was even a list of references at the bottom.

'Maura Isles,' Jane breathed with disbelief into the air. 'You are incredible.'