'Right,' Todd said into the locker room mirror, running his hand nervously over his hair to flatten it before putting on his top hat. 'What if I say if I said it something like this... Look, I know things have been a bit weird between us. And I know that's my fault. So let me make it up to you. Let me take you out for a drink.'

'You've got to be a bit more confident, dear,' the mirror coaxed. 'A man will never win over a girl he's got his eye on by being a stammering, bumbling fool.'

'I wasn't stammering, first of all,' Todd grumbled. 'And second of all, allow me to introduce you to about a hundred different two-Sickle paperbacks at Flourish and Blotts that suggest otherwise.'

'Well that's intriguing. You ought to read one to me sometime.'

'Now, then you really would see me stammer,' Todd said wryly.

'Let's try your little speech again, shall we?'

'OK.' Todd took a deep breath before mustering a faint smile. 'I miss you. I really do. And I'm sorry about how I've acted. Please, let me buy you a drink, to make it up to you.'

'Darling, didn't you say things were a bit weird between the two of you? Won't taking this girl out simply make things more awkward?'

'Well, honestly, that doesn't really matter.'

'Oh dear, Todd,' the mirror said nervously. 'You're a bit of a moron when it comes to matters of the heart, aren't you?'

Todd grinned and opened his mouth to reply, but whipped around when he heard the doors to the showers open and close.

'Why don't sentient mirrors make more people in the wizarding world uneasy?' Nate Dobson grumbled as he emerged, donning fireproof robes and flipping the front of a welding mask open atop his head. 'Sana keeps asking to add one to our sitting room, and I told her I wouldn't bring one of those into our house if you paid me. I mean, do the mirrors at the Leaky Cauldron, for example, comment on people's techniques while they're shagging in the boarding rooms?'

'You've got to request a room without sentient furniture for those purposes,' Todd said, tossing his hat to the side and grabbing for his welding mask as well. Todd was also decked out in fireproof robes. 'I never knew whether to be cocky or embarrassed when I asked Tom for a room without sentient furniture. Especially when Deirdre was standing right next to me.'

Nate snorted. 'Right.'

Todd was a little annoyed that Nate didn't seem to believe him and opened his mouth to argue, but he shut it, knowing that protesting loudly would just make him look exactly like the whinging brat Nate thought he was. 'How's Sana feeling about this dragon surgery?' he said instead.

Nate sighed. 'Terrified. She shouldn't be, though. She'll be brilliant, I know it.'

'I know it too,' Todd said as he handed Nate a crate full of surgery supplies before taking the other crate himself. Nate eyed Todd with mild surprise. 'I couldn't do your job on a regular basis. Beast-Hunter,' Todd continued. 'It's mad how many different skills you lot are expected to have.'

'A person really does have to be a bit mad to do this job,' Nate conceded as they made their way toward the doors and out into the warehouse's surgery room. 'Never tickle a sleeping dragon, and all that.'

'Yeah, it's probably not best to slice into one either, but what can you do?' Todd said, and Nate laughed as he pushed the doors open with the toe of his boot.

Todd surveyed the enormous Swedish Short-Snout that was snoring softly, in a magically induced sleep, in the Ollivander's forest warehouse. He, Miss Kim, Sana, Nate, Kurt and the dragon-tamer who always — somewhat annoyingly — insisted on being present during surgeries were standing around it. Todd had to say that Sana was doing a good job of concealing her nervousness. You sort of had to. Uncertainty was the last emotion you wanted to convey to the team right before you were about to snip a dragon heartstring from its pumping heart. But Todd knew Sana well enough to notice that she hadn't really blinked the entire time they'd been preparing and that she'd only been giving one-word, clipped answers to any questions put to her.

'You can do this,' he murmured as he offered her a tray of newly sterilised gloves and her sterilised wand.

'Thanks.' Sana looked a little bewildered by his words of encouragement, and Todd felt a ripple of guilt to see her so taken aback. He'd taken Maggie's words to heart about how he was missing the point if he was trying to prove that he was superior to the other wandsmiths. The fact that such an obvious statement had been an epiphany to him was — well — sort of embarrassing. Of course he and Will and Sana and Nate were supposed to be a team. But he hadn't really thought of it that way before. Probably because, for the most of the time he'd known them, he'd been an awkward teenager going through various stages of puberty, and they'd been adults. He felt like he always needed to prove that he was their equal. But as soon as Maggie compared his dad and Coakley and Miss Kim to the dynamic that he ought to have with the apprentices, his worldview had turned on its head. All those times, over the years, that he'd pointed out the mistakes of the others and explained the correct answer... he'd been such an arsehole. Todd had been an Ollivander his whole life, but he'd never really felt special, only burdened by it. It was only getting to know Maggie that he realised how he came off, when he talked down to others who didn't have all this as a birthright.

Sana wasn't taking the gloves. She stared at them, frowning. She seemed to want to say something. Finally, her eyes met Todd's. 'Can I ask you something?' she said quietly.

'Sure.'

'I'm thinking of foregoing the gloves,' she said. He raised his eyebrows. 'Hear me out. They're kind of cumbersome, and I think I'll be able to manoeuvre better without them. And, besides, this is dragon blood we're talking about! The worst that'll happen if I get contaminated with it is I'll experience a sudden, dizzying surge of courage.'

'Erm, I think the gloves are to keep you from contaminating the dragon's body. Not the other way round.'

'Oh. Right, right. Of course.' Sana closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, looking suddenly deeply embarrassed and annoyed with herself. 'I knew that. It's just my bloody nerves, I just forgot. Stupid.'

Todd shook his head. 'Your idea's not stupid. You're right, you will be able to manoeuvre better without the gloves. I wish I'd thought of that during my surgery trial. Here,' he said, putting down the tray. 'We can make this work if I make sure to sterilise your hands and your wrists and your arms perfectly. Er — Nate — can you come over here for a moment? Sana's got an idea, and I want to make sure I execute it correctly.'

For a minute, Nate surveyed Todd with a raised eyebrow to hear him ask for help. Oh, come on. Todd asked for help sometimes! OK, maybe not very often. OK... maybe it had been years since he'd asked for the second opinion of someone under the age of 40 at the shop.

Nate nodded as Todd took out his wand and explained what Sana had in mind. 'Yes... I think you can definitely do that. Make sure to sterilise the sleeves of her robes as well,' Nate said. 'And if I were you, I'd do a combination of detailed, close-up spell-casting as well as several wide sweeps, just to make sure she's completely free of contaminants. And, Sana, love, you'll have to keep from touching the outside of the dragon's body as well before you go in, yeah?'

'Right.'

Todd waved Sana's thank-yous away as he worked on her hands, though he did sort of wish that Maggie were here to see... Todd gave an inward eyeroll at himself and shook his head ruefully at his eager desire to show Maggie that he wan't always such a knob anymore. Hooray! Gold star, Ollivander, for meeting basic expectations of human decency. Ten points to Ravenclaw.

'What is it? What's that face you're making? You do think it's a dumb idea, I knew it...'

'What?' Todd looked up, distracted. 'No, no — thinking about something else.'

Sana looked at him sceptically.

'Why are you second-guessing yourself so much today?' Todd asked, laughing. 'It's not like you.'

Sana smirked at him. 'How quickly we forget. Didn't you puke the morning before your surgery trials?'

Todd chuckled. 'Right. Everyone thought I was hungover, but I hadn't gone to the pub all week.' Confident that Sana's hands and the outside of her sleeves were completely decontaminated, he poked his wand inside her sleeve and sterilised the inner fabric that was touching her hand as well, for good measure. 'I can promise you that it's much better once you're done, once you're on the other side. And I know you'll make it there with flying colours.'

Sana laughed, looking bewildered. 'Who are you, and what have you done with Todd Ollivander?'

'Oh come on Sana!' Todd burst out, exasperated. 'I'm a nice person!'

About a month after that fateful day that Maggie had first asked Todd about an Ollivander's apprenticeship, she had asked him if the Ollivander's crew had to kill dragons to obtain the heartstring. 'Absolutely not,' Todd had told her, when she'd caught him in a Hogwarts corridor on his way to Transfiguration. 'That would damage the magic so irreparably that it would be useless as a core. We can't use anything that was obtained from violence, or death.' Maggie had nodded thoughtfully. She always seemed to drink in wandlore information with something like reverence. 'That makes sense,' she had said softly.

Todd thought about that conversation as he watched Sana climb deftly up the dragon's body, crouching to maintain her balance but not touching the dragon with her hands so as to keep them clean. Todd had fulfilled all his responsibilities in surgery prep, so he let his mind wander a bit now that she'd begun.

The Swedish Short-Snout before them truly was beautiful. It was obvious why Todd's dad would think it the perfect fit for a vine-wood wand. Her silvery blue scales caught the sunlight in the room and reflected it softly back, so that Todd had the vague sense of being underwater as the coloured lights moved in slow waves across the walls of the warehouse as she breathed in and out. It felt like being next to a humpback whale.

It didn't seem ideal, honestly, to take one — sometimes two — of a dragon's seven heartstrings against its will, even if they were doing it without harming the dragon. With phoenixes and unicorns, there was at least somewhat of a sense that you were getting the beast's blessing (the phoenix hunt in early September had been a bust, as usual). You had to earn their trust first in order to be successful. But you couldn't very well approach a conscious dragon and hope it'll let you pierce its underbelly and wrench out an organ, however un-vital, he thought as he watched blood trickle down the dragon's side as Sana worked. Nate stood at the bottom, using his wand to direct the light bloodshed into vials he held.

Todd made his way over to the dragon-tamer, a beanpole of a middle-aged man whose typically good-natured face was drawn together in tight concentration as he watched Sana work.

'Er, you're Mr Hay, right?' Todd said quietly, offering his hand. 'I don't think we've met properly before. Todd Ollivander.'

'Ah, of course, Mr Ollivander!' Phil Hay whispered, his face brightening as he shook Todd's hand. 'No introduction necessary, with those eyes of yours, though I'm sure you've heard that before!'

'More times than I can count.' Likely because of his glasses, people tended to find Todd's eyes slightly less unnerving than his dad's, though people always took note nevertheless. 'Piercing' was an oft-used adjective that Todd preferred. 'Creepy', another common comment, he liked less. 'So, I'm hoping you can share some of your insight with me. My dad's lately got it into his head that this dragon's heartstring would be a good fit for a wand I'm working on. What can you tell me about her demeanour? What's she like?'

'Oh, she's a force,' Phil said, beaming at the creature like a proud parent.

'Is she?' Todd said hopefully. 'Aggressive?'

'No, no, no.' Phil shook his head. 'Quite tranquil, actually. She's strong, though — flies brilliantly, and has a bloody impressive flame burst. She generally only uses it for cooking her food though, she's slow to anger. We're all quite fond of her.'

'Hm.' Todd frowned unhappily. From what he'd been told, the Hungarian Horntail that Todd had performed surgery on had a temper, which flared sometimes out of nowhere, to its tamers' consternation. Todd had liked that. He'd related to that. And that morning nearly a year ago that Todd had been struck with a burst of inspiration, he'd envisioned placing that firecracker of a heartstring in a disarmingly humble casing. A glass cannon.

'I've got it!' Sana shouted happily from atop the dragon, waving the now-separated, bloodied heartstring in the air with her bare hands like some sort of intimidating hunter-warrior woman. 'I think we're done here!'

'Todd, you've got to join us for a celebration pint tonight!' Sana said, her arms around Nate. She was still giddy from the success of her dragon surgery. Todd, Nate and Sana had all changed out of their fireproof robes in the warehouse's sort of makeshift locker rooms — Sana had quite a bit of blood to clean off herself — and the three of them were now returning their welding masks to the storage shelves in the back as the rest of the crew conferred with Hay about the dragon's recovery plan.

'Ah, I wish I could, but I've actually got plans tonight,' Todd said as he hung up the heavy robes.

'You can spend one night away from Derek Malkin, Todd, it won't kill you,' Sana teased. 'Let me thank you for your pep talk today. It helped, it really did. You were sweet.'

'Actually,' Nate said wryly, 'I think Todd might be planning a little trip to Hogsmeade now that a certain curly haired apprentice has gone back to Hogwarts.' Clearly he had overheard Todd practising in the mirror earlier that day.

'No, no... not Hogsmeade... and I'm not seeing Derek tonight either,' Todd said, not making eye contact with the Dobsons as he took an unnecessarily long time hanging up his robes. 'I'm, er, I was planning on getting ice-cream tonight, actually,' he mumbled.

Sana and Nate stared at Todd with a little more surprise than he cared for. 'Oh!' Sana said. 'To see... Deirdre Fortescue...?'

'Yeah. We just haven't been on very good terms since we split up, and... you know... we see each other in Diagon Alley nearly every other day, it's time I made an effort to... to sort of clear the air? Plus, there was an... incident recently,' Todd said, smiling to himself, 'and Deirdre got kind of insulted and I've been meaning to smooth things over since that happened.'

Nate and Sana didn't press the issue, though it was clear they were both a bit baffled to picture Todd and Deirdre spending time together as friends. Todd knew it didn't entirely add up. He probably shouldn't have told them anything at all. They didn't know that Todd had been carefully considering under what pretense it would be the least suspicious for him to return to the Fenny Snake to plant Maggie's typewriter and that he had finally decided that a bloke attempting to win back his pretty Slytherin ex-girlfriend was the most believable scenario in which he would find himself in Knockturn Alley again.

In fact, no one knew that, for days, Todd had been experimenting with Maggie's typewriter. He knew how to make it invisible; he knew how to charm it so that it floated to the top of the ceiling and stayed there for days; Maggie had already silenced it, so the typing didn't make any noise; and, finally — Todd was proudest of this — he had worked out the best way to load an unwieldy ten-metre-long piece of parchment into the device so that it could transcribe a couple days' worth of conversations. One morning in his bedroom, he'd read the entire Daily Prophet aloud in a low voice as the machine floated above him to determine if, and how accurately, it would pick up what he said. He needn't have bothered; Maggie's magic was perfect. Every word that Todd had spoken was there, down to the last engagement announcement he'd croaked out in a by-then hoarse voice.

Todd noted a surprising lack of nervousness in himself as he walked through Diagon Alley on his way to Florean Fortescue's. When Todd had a role to play, a job to do, he often found he could easily overcome any social anxiety. Maybe he would be a lot better with women if he always just pretended that he was asking them out in order to fight Lord Voldemort's cause.

That being said, Todd took his time as he made his way to the Fortescues', popping into Flourish and Blotts first. He scanned the shelves, as if expecting a new section to appear if he looked long enough. He frowned at the offerings. The bookshop had never failed him before, but nothing was quite right as a potential birthday present for Maggie. There were likely many books here that she'd be interested in, that she'd devour, but no matter how many times he looked through the shop he'd been unable to find a book that would make her smile the way he wanted to make her smile.

It was embarrassing how much Todd was missing Maggie. Fancying someone was really just the absolute worst, it really was. Each time he thought about her, he was knocked over by three different waves of emotion, in short succession: a jolt of giddiness, then frustration at his stupidity for continuing to feel this way about someone who he knew didn't feel the same way, and finally depression as this reality set in.

It was really stupid for him to be thinking about her birthday in November, considering that there was no rational reason for him to know her birth date at all, let alone get her a gift. It would almost certainly be weird if he sent her a gift after being friends with her for just a few months. And yet...

He'd first considered sending her a photo of all the apprentices that had been taken near the end of the summer. Todd had grinned at the photo as he'd looked at Maggie, clad in green apprentice robes and, as usual, practically bouncing on her toes to be in the workshop. It had seemed like the perfect birthday present — perfectly casual, but at the same time it would make her really happy — until his eyes slid over to himself in the photo. He kept looking over at her with this dumb smile on his face. He was too distracted to even wave like everyone else in the photo.

'Stop that,' he'd grumbled, prodding the photo of himself with his wand, and the Todd in the photo had jumped to avoid the wand, giving him an indignant look. 'You're making a fool of yourself.'

So that was out.

Derek had told Todd adamantly, repeatedly, wearily, that there was only one cure for this: Find another girl. But who? Seriously, who?

Todd left the bookshop with a sigh. Seeing without really seeing, he leaned against the wall of Flourish and Blotts and absentmindedly watched Wilkins, Diagon Alley's troubadour, dance his hands across the strings of his harpsolin, playing a ballad that Todd had heard hundreds of times, about Merlin being bewitched and imprisoned by the Lady of the Lake.

Todd sighed again. Women.

'You know Todd, I don't play just for the enjoyment of seeing you brood,' Wilkins said with a wink as he continued to strum, and Todd fished out a couple Sickles from his pockets. He was going to reply with something snarky when, as he tossed the coins into Wilkins' case, he looked up to see Deirdre Fortescue leaving the ice-cream parlour and making her way down the alley.

Right. Phase 1. Now or never.

'All right, Fortescue?' As soon as he'd said it, Todd cringed slightly at his lame attempt at being self-assured and aloof. Deirdre was clearly amused, raising an eyebrow as she stopped, surprised, on the cobbled road.

'All right, Ollivander?'

Todd gave her a nervous smile, taking off his hat in a tip that turned into him simply holding his hat. He suddenly needed something to do with his hands.

'You have good timing,' Deirdre said, cocking her head. 'I actually nipped out just now in search of an Ollivander's crew member.'

'Really?'

'Mm-hmm. The ice-cream isn't keeping cold today, we're not sure why.'

In spite of himself, Todd sighed and rolled his eyes. 'We're not this borough's resident magical calibrators, you know.'

'But you all are better than any private calibrator we could hire,' Deirdre said with a teasing innocence.

The two of them stood on the street, smiling slightly and not saying anything, awash in deja vu. Both of them knew they'd had this conversation before, the summer before their brief relationship began.

Todd gestured with his hat toward Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour. 'Well? After you.'

Florean Fortescue was grumbling and cursing softly as he tinkered underneath the ice-cream serving area in the shop when the two of them entered, whatever malfunction he was dealing with clouding his typically cheery mood.

'Dad?' Deirdre said. 'Todd Ollivander's here, he thinks he can help us sort out the temperature issue.'

'Todd Ollivander?' he repeated with surprise. Todd saw half of Deirdre's dad's face — disheveled hair and a pair of raised eyebrows — poke out from beneath the counter.

'Er, hi Mr Fortescue.'

Florean Fortescue got to his feet and looked at Todd with the conflicted look of a man who very much liked the boy standing before him, but couldn't help but resent him as a former love interest of his daughter's. Florean's relationship with Todd had deteriorated a lot from years ago, when a precocious young Todd Ollivander used to discuss politics and history with him over free sundaes.

'I can take a look, if you like,' Todd said nervously.

'Certainly, certainly,' he said absentmindedly, frowning at the litres of ice cream before him, which Todd noticed were all quite soupy. 'You won't make it worse at this point, that's for sure.'

Mr Fortescue moved to push the swinging door open for Todd, but Todd boosted himself easily over the counter out of sheer habit. He got down on his knees on the tile floor and put his hand on the litres of ice-cream, which did all feel a bit too room-temperature.

'Did you try Congelare?' Todd asked, tapping the containers with his wand.

'Of course,' Mr Fortescue said, sounding a bit irritated.

Todd attempted to charm the buckets, touching them experimentally as he did so. His magic didn't seem to have any effect. This wasn't unheard of; magic malfunctioned all the time, and Todd delighted in these sorts of puzzles.

Todd futzed around with a half-dozen different spells for a while before he discovered the problem — the suppliers had coated the ice-cream containers in anti-jinx protections that were fucking with the ice-cream's susceptibility to cooling charms, and Todd overrided the protections enough to bring it back to an appropriate temperature before Mr Fortescue, pleased with the fix, began using his wand to swirl the ice-cream back to an appealing texture again.

'Thank you, Todd. A keen problem-solver, as always,' Mr Fortescue said, as he continued his work. He sighed. 'I suppose our suppliers are worried that Death Eaters might be a tempted to compromise any food sent our way.'

'They should be worried,' Deirdre said under her breath, 'what with everything you've done to speak out against You-Know-Who.'

Florean Fortescue pretended not to hear his daughter. Todd knew it was a sore subject between the two of them, whether it was worth it to declare your allegiances if you weren't forced to. Todd tended to take Mr Fortescue's side on this, one of several reasons Todd and Deirdre's relationship didn't last.

'Of course,' Todd said to him with shrug. 'Happy to help. Deirdre, I... I'm glad you... Are — are you free? Can you step outside? I've been wanting to —'

'Free ice lolly, Todd? To thank you?' Mr Fortescue seemed to be intentionally trying to distract him from his daughter. He offered him Todd's favourite, a sweet strawberry ice lolly, sprinkled with a dusting of graham cracker crumbs, with a creamy shortcake filling. Florean Fortescue's strawberry shortcake lollies were some sort of Eighth Wonder of the World. Since Todd and Deirdre had split up, Todd had avoided the shop and hadn't really had any ice-cream at all for years.

'Yeah... yeah, thanks Mr Fortescue!' Todd said, immediately regretting his enthusiasm, because he felt like he was about six years old as he accepted the lolly. Gee golly thanks mister! He wondered if he should try to keep what little dignity he had left by not eating it, but he'd already accepted it... and it would be a waste if he didn't eat it now...

Todd tried not to laugh as he realised that he couldn't decide what was a bigger temptation: Fortescue's daughter or his ice-cream. Todd prayed with every ounce of his being that Florean didn't know Legilimency as he tried to shut down that thought.

'Are you saying you want to talk to me?' Deirdre asked Todd.

He nodded and gestured with the lolly that they go outside. He gave an awkward nod to Mr Fortescue, who regarded them warily as they stepped back out into Diagon Alley.

Todd had decided that the only suave way to eat an ice lolly in front of a fit witch was to share it with her, and so the two of them partook of the heavenly thing, handing it back and forth in front of the ice-cream parlour as Todd got through the apology he'd prepared.

Deirdre shrugged. 'It's fine. I guess. Maggie Gibson's not the first witch to lash out at me out of jealousy.'

'Jealousy?' Todd repeated, amused. 'And what would she be jealous of, exactly?'

'Taking your attention away from her. I've seen the way you look at her. Even if she doesn't feel the same way, no girl likes it when a man who fancies her gets distracted.'

Todd squinted at her. He wasn't sure, but he thought that might apply a lot more to Deirdre than to Maggie. 'Not every witch thinks the same way you do, you know.'

'Yes, they absolutely do,' she said with a smirk. 'Some just pretend otherwise.'

Todd tried not to roll his eyes. Under any other circumstances he'd set the record straight, but for now he needed to keep Deirdre in good spirits. 'So can I buy you a drink? To make it up to you?'

Deirdre's laughter bubbled up, and Todd smiled back, bemused. 'You know, there are other ways to spend time with people other than buying them pints.'

He looked at her blankly. 'Like... what?'

Deirdre shook her head ruefully, finishing the lolly and taking out her wand to incinerate the wooden stick that remained. 'Never mind. Let's go. The Leaky Cauldron, I presume?'

'Well, since it's you I'm trying to make amends with, I figured we could go to your favourite pub. Just let me grab a crate first. I want to bring home some of that elf-made wine.'

Todd went through his drinks quickly, downing two for each one Deirdre had. His plan was that the barman had to think he was sufficiently pissed enough that he would be in a position to accidentally let a piece of information slip to him later on. It was a good plan. An excellent plan, Todd thought happily as he bought another drink at the bar while Deirdre was still halfway through her second glass of wine.

'An Englishman whose favourite hobby is getting blind drunk,' Deirdre observed archly, cooling sipping her drink as Todd returned to their table. 'Todd Ollivander, you are so unique and refreshing.'

'Why shouldn't I drink? It makes me so charming.' He shot her a grin. Weirdly, his secret mission, plus the alcohol, was making him sort of Dereky.

'It certainly makes you think you're charming,' Deirdre said. She was trying not to smile.

'What are your plans for Bonfire Night?' he asked before taking another swig.

She shrugged in a detached way. 'Dunno. Might just work.'

'Ah! But it's your favourite holiday!'

She shrugged again. 'Trying to save up. I'm thinking about taking my dad and I to America for a few years.'

Todd blinked. 'What? Seriously? Why?'

Deirdre laughed incredulously. 'I don't know, Todd. Maybe because there's a war on? Maybe so that we aren't murdered?'

Todd sighed and looked down at the table. Technically, the Fortescues shouldn't have anything to worry about. They're purebloods who sell ice-cream, for Merlin's sake. Shouldn't exactly be a target for the Death Eaters. But Mr Fortescue had a habit of speaking out against You-Know-Who. It terrified Deirdre to no end. It was really no surprise, when you thought about it, for the daughter of an outspoken Gryffindor to become rather disillusioned with her father's at-times foolish bravery and see the usefulness of a more Slytherin mindset. But, obviously, Todd was in no position to fault someone for a stupid plot in the name of the cause.

'Does your Dad want to leave?'

She sighed. 'Of course not. But I think I might be able to convince him eventually, if things get really bad.'

Todd thought for a while. 'Why America?'

'Well... I mean... I want to go to New York City.'

'Ah, of course,' Todd said, laughing. 'Deirdre Fortescue's too interesting to hide from You-Know-Who in some boring town no one's heard of before.'

Deirdre looked annoyed, but she didn't dispute it.

'Well, just be careful,' Todd said kindly. 'You know, their wizard hospitals charge you, in the States. They're not free, like St Mungo's. They charge you a lot, from what I've heard. Probably not the best situation for your dad.'

Deirdre waved this away. 'My dad's fine, he's healthy. He's twenty years younger than your dad.'

Todd shrugged. This was true. Garrick and Elspeth Ollivander had both been in their forties when they'd had him. He eyed the bartender, finally gearing up to execute Phase 2. 'I'm going to buy some wine to bring home. Do you want another drink?'

'I'm all right,' she said with a smirk.

Todd shrugged, picking up the crate. 'Suit yourself.'

He bumped into a table, hard, as he walked toward the bar. Just like he'd... planned. Todd winced, rubbing the front of his lower thigh as he approached the barman. That'll be a bruise. 'All right mate? I'll have several bottles of elf-made wine tonight,' he said, placing the crate on the bar.

The barman grunted, scowling at Todd just as he had the last time Todd had been here with Derek and Snape. As the barman bent down to retrieve several dusty bottles of wine from below the bar, Todd took out the Mandrake-leaf cigarette he'd rolled and produced his wand from his robes. He'd made Maggie's typewriter invisible, and it was currently sitting inside the crate.

Using as little flourish as possible, Todd levitated the object up to the ceiling, several feet above the barman's head. He grazed the typewriter with his hand holding the cigarette on its way to the ceiling, just to make sure the enchanted object was there.

'Oi!' the barman barked sharply as he rose up. 'Put that wand away if you know what's good for you! You're lucky to even be allowed in here at all, Ollivander.'

Todd scowled, playing the part. Maggie's typewriter was now in place. 'Only trying to light a fag,' he grumbled as he lit it quickly before he shoved his wand back into his robes, widening his eyes insolently as he showed the glaring barman both his empty hands and took a drag. He pulled it out of his mouth, unable to suppress a couple of coughs as he breathed out. He never smoked.

'Wouldn't even be here if it weren't for Deirdre,' Todd continued to grumble. 'Your lot aren't exactly my favourite kind of people either.'

'You'd better watch your step, boy,' the barman growled. 'You and your father aren't as invincible as you think.'

Todd had to stop himself from pumping his fist. The barman couldn't have given him a better opening for his next line.

'Actually,' Todd said softly in a taunting voice, leaning in toward the barman, 'we are literally invincible. My father and I have already taken an Unbreakable Vow,' he lied.

The barman began loading the wine bottles into Todd's crate. He looked uninterested, but Todd noticed he was certainly taking his time placing each bottle, as if waiting to see if Todd would say more. And Todd was happy to oblige.

'We vowed that we'll never stop selling wands to Muggle-borns,' Todd said quietly, staring the barman down. 'So no matter how much your lot want to pressure us to do otherwise, we're magically bound to never betray our integrity.'

The barman couldn't keep the disinterested look on his face anymore. He was staring, dumbfounded, at Todd, as if he couldn't believe what he'd just heard, that he couldn't believe Todd was so stupid.

'Clever, isn't it?' Todd said, raising his eyebrows, the cigarette still in his mouth. He was enjoying playing the fool. He tapped his temple and blew out the smoke off to the side. 'Cheers, mate,' he said, plunking down four Galleons and picking up the crate that was now full of wine bottles.

He made his way back over to Deirdre, nearly strutting with glee at how perfectly everything had been executed. Now he just needed to wait for the news to spread, and he'd get to read a transcript of each person's reaction as it did. Not only would he get an opportunity to 'overhear' Dark wizards debate whether an Unbreakable Vow was an obstacle for them or not, but he might even get to hear murmurings of any potential plans to either take advantage of it or to thwart it.

'I didn't know you smoked now.'

Todd plopped back into his chair. 'Now and then I do.' He cocked his head, raising his eyebrows and the fag. 'If I recall, you certainly do.'

Deirdre smiled, offering her hand to accept the cigarette, which Todd passed to her. She took a slow drag, eyes closed, and leaned back in her chair, draping her arm over a chair she had pulled alongside her as she blew out the smoke. They were at that odd age, sharing ice lollies and cigarettes alike.

She watched the smoke curl from the end of the cigarette, holding it lightly in her hand. 'Bonfire Night isn't my favourite holiday, you know.'

'Oh? It's not?'

'Nope. You only think it is because you likely have a very fond memory of me telling you at Hogwarts that I really missed Bonfire Night.'

Todd crossed his arms and chuckled, gazing across the room. 'Do I? I can't possibly imagine what you're referring to.'

She passed the cigarette back to him with a smile, and he took another drag. Todd and Deirdre's brief relationship had begun one night when the Hogwarts Astronomy professor had given the Sixth Years permission to make some late-night calculations for a project. He'd found Deirdre, a Seventh Year, up there, gazing at the stars. She didn't take Astronomy.

Todd and Deirdre had known each other all their lives, and he'd fancied her in a vague way. In the way that boys knew which girl in town was the prettiest. The two of them had never really talked. Todd had always assumed Derek would be the one to win her over.

But the two of them had struck up a conversation on the Astronomy Tower that night, each feeling a bit homesick. It had been November, and they'd talked about how much they missed celebrating Guy Fawkes Day in Diagon Alley, one of the few days the alley's residents could shoot off fireworks without arousing any Muggle suspicion in London. She'd shrieked as he'd set off a firework on the Astronomy Tower with his wand, a miniature silver dragon that swirled around her gracefully before soaring high above them and exploding in the air, and she'd kissed him as silver sparks rained down on them. He'd performed a Warming Charm on the two of them as they'd snogged in the cold...

'Reminiscing?' Deirdre said with a smile, looking across the table at Todd who was still gazing out across the pub.

He glanced at her before he extinguished the cigarette into a sleek, black glass ash tray at the table. 'Nah,' he said with a shrug.

Deirdre ran her finger over the rim of her wine glass slowly. 'You know... sometimes I... I regret that I broke things off...'

Deirdre's wand suddenly slipped out of the pocket of her robes and flew across the room. She blinked, in that second not understanding what was happening like Todd did. He had felt his wand attempt to leap out of his robes as well, but he had slammed his hand firmly against his chest, not allowing it to leave his person. His training was kicking in now, like muscle memory.

He put up a dome-shaped Shield Charm around the two of them just in time, as something exploded against it, and Deirdre screamed. Todd could see now that it was an old warlock in the corner of the pub who was trying to hex them.

'How dare you show your faces in here, blood-traitors!' he croaked.

Training dictated that now was the time to Apparate. No better defence than getting the fuck away from your attacker, that's what Todd had always been taught. But the warlock still had Deirdre's wand.

Against his better judgment, Todd shrunk his Shield Charm slightly so that they were still protected in the direction of the warlock, but it was no longer dome-shaped. He now had the space to conjure a white, hot ball of energy that spun up and out and toward the barman, who yelled angrily and ducked, before it bent in the air toward the warlock not from magic but from sheer aerodynamic force. The orb hit the warlock and brought him down, hard, and despite the fight-or-flight adrenaline pumping through Todd's veins, he winced and resisted the urge to say, 'So sorry!' He might've responded with a bit more force than was necessary for an old man. The other witches and wizards in the pub seemed to feel the same way and were shouting at Todd and producing their own wands.

With a quick flick, Deirdre's wand flew into Todd's outstretched hand. Neither of his hands were free now, so he simply took Deirdre in his arms and turned on the spot with her.

Todd had never seen Deirdre cry before, but tonight she sobbed into his shoulder on a bench in Diagon Alley for a long time.

'We have to get out of here,' she said, weeping as she accepted Todd's offered handkerchief. 'Why does anyone stay? I don't understand!'

Todd was never one to keep his mouth shut when he knew the answer to a question, even though he knew Deirdre didn't want to hear it. 'Because if we leave, they win,' he said softly.

'Well, if they kill us, they win too!' Deirdre said angrily, dabbing at her eyes.

'It's a war,' Todd said, shrugging helplessly. 'Some people are going to die. But if we stand together, we have a chance of —'

'God!' Deirdre burst out. 'You're just like my dad! I forgot how infuriating it was to listen to this, when you and I were together. If there was an army, you'd enlist immediately, wouldn't you? You just want to be some big war hero!'

'The Ministry ought to draft an army, it's mad that we haven't! We could've put an end to all this bullshit years ago if we had! And, yes, I would enlist immediately, not because I want glory but because I don't want the world to be ruled by His Excellency the Lord Snake-Face, I don't understand why that's so —'

'Todd, you have to be careful!' Deirdre was pleading with him now. 'Even using stupid names like that — they'll kill you for stuff like that!'

Todd sighed. 'Look. We just need to stay out of Knockturn Alley,' he said, keeping it to himself that, actually, he needed to figure out how to return in a few days' time without showing his face now. Despite the commotion, the warlock's attack seemed unconnected to Todd's little eavesdropping plot. As far as Todd could tell, the typewriter was likely safe. 'We're safe as long as we stay out of there —'

'That's not true and you know it.'

They two of them sat in silence for a while, Deirdre still sniffling a bit.

'Maggie was carrying around this book for a while, that she was reading this summer,' Todd said slowly. 'Something about the unsung heroes who resisted and weakened Grindelwald before his fall. The Enduring Light. So many people are in there. Ollivander's is in there! It's important, to stand together. To fight.'

Deirdre shook her head derisively. 'Think they all twisted the pickle jar for Dumbledore, do you?'

'Well... that's a weird way of putting it,' Todd said with a grin, 'but, yeah, in a sense. Yeah.'

'People will do literally anything they think is helpful, during times of good versus evil. When they're not doing anything useful at all. They're just antogonizing the other side. Making things worse.'

'So it's best to do nothing at all?'

Deirdre didn't reply. She handed his handkerchief back to him, and he reached into his robes to return her wand to her. She muttered a quiet 'good-night' before the two of them walked in opposite directions back to their flats above their shops, each pondering what the other had said, but neither thinking the other was right.