Minerva sighed pointedly, peering at her twinkling companion with narrowed eyes, as though searching for some ulterior motive.

"And why must we go together, Albus?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "I would have thought that would be obvious, Minerva."

Her glare almost wiped the smile from his face. "Well, obviously, Albus, it isn't, or I wouldn't be asking."

On of his eyebrows twitched. "True. You know the duty of explaining magical education to muggles is something I usually only entrust to you or myself, but in this case I feel Sybill's input will be a benefit."

Minerva's tone was dry. "I can only imagine what kind of people they are."

"Not the worst kind, Minerva. They will at least be open to the idea that their child is magical. I do, however, think that left alone with them, you might just curse them."

She arched one thin eyebrow, amused. "And being alone with Sybill? Does it not matter if I curse her?"

His keen, smiling gaze penetrated hers. "Well, I don't think it would addle her brains any more than they already are, do you?"

She couldn't help a small laugh, that time. "Indeed not." Realising he was getting her off track, she shot a calculating glance at him. "But I still do not see what this has to do with me going with her."

"Never could slip anything past you, Minerva." He said it as though he didn't know it already. "I really don't think it would be a good idea to inflict her upon Muggle London, all by herself. While the particular muggles in question will appreciate her… unique manner, I doubt the rest of London's population will."

Minerva shook her head, but could not help but smile. "So I'm what? A babysitter? A translator?"

He twinkled. "A guide, perhaps. You do know muggle London rather well. Better even than I do."

She found that hard to believe, but she accepted the flattery. "All right."

"And as far as cursing her, I would appreciate it if you could exercise some of that legendary iron self control."

"I suppose I can." She waggled her brows at him. "Though you do know that said control is often more legendary than it is real."

He waggled his brows right back. "Indeed."

Minerva attracted all sorts of strange glances as she took a seat inside the Leaky Cauldron. It was rare that anyone in there wore jeans and a blouse, let alone that it was Hogwarts' Deputy Headmistress. She glanced at her wrist watch and scowled. Sybill was late.

When she did arrive, a full fifteen minutes after the agreed time, Sybill Trelawney looked, if possible, even more outrageous than she usually did. Her frizzy mop of curls was held back from her face with an electric purple, satin bandana, accentuating the hugeness of her thick rimmed glasses, making her look like some kind of demented butterfly. The skirt she wore was green, with a gauzy, pixie hemmed overlay that floated about her ankles, and it clashed abominably with her blue, ruffle sleeved blouse. As if to add icing to an already ruined cake, there was a red crochet shawl around her shoulders that had a tasselled hem, threaded with small round beads that clacked together as she moved.

Minerva had to fight not to cover her face with her hand.

Those huge, round eyes scanned the room for a moment, found her, and the figure swept forward. Her voice held a misty sort of quality. "My apologies for the lateness, Minerva, I consulted the orb this morning and was warned against leaving the house before ten oh eight am."

Minerva bit back a scathing remark, rising from her seat. It would not do to start the day on bad terms. "Well, I'm pleased you arrived safely thanks to the intervention of the orb. Shall we be off?" She hadn't meant to sound quite so sarcastic, but couldn't really help it.

"Lead the way, Minerva, Goddess of Wisdom, worst poet in history."

She was glad she was leading the way. Had Sybill been looking at her, she would have seen the scowl of fury that creased Minerva's face.

The ride on the London tube trains was near unbearable. Minerva knew the muggle world because she had lived in it for a few years, but Sybill had never so much as boiled an egg. The Divination professor smelled strongly of lavender, and she pressed herself so close to Minerva that at times, she felt she could not breathe. She found herself speaking words of encouragement as she would to a young child, as those comically large eyes widened at the noises and lights.

"In all my wanderings, my inner eye has never seen such things!" Her voice was a whisper, in what Minerva assumed was the same tone she used with her students. It had less of an effect on the cynical transfiguration mistress. At least she had the good sense to speak quietly, though.

"Your inner eye must be rather selective then, Sybill. The muggle world surrounds us. It is really not that difficult to understand. Their society functions on mechanics, electricity, ours on magic."

"But I sense that their auras are clouded, hazed! They are dry, barren of the sight!" Her voice was growing theatrically louder, and Minerva glanced about, worried that they might have attracted attention. The muggles seemed absorbed in themselves, but it was hard to tell. Underestimating them was a very bad idea.

"Sybill, keep you voice down. And stop being so theatrical. It has no effect on me."

"Ah, yes, Minerva, ever vigilant. They could be listening, no? But you do not see as I do. You do not see the horror of their existence. You do not know the horror of your own. To not be able to see!" She lifted a hand to her forehead and slumped back against the vinyl seat.

"Well, Sybill, I've managed well enough for seventy years." She muttered. "I don't see how one could live in only one form, so I suppose we're even." There was a curious understanding in that statement that Minerva wasn't sure she liked. The last thing she wanted to think was that she understood Sybill in any way, shape or form. It might just mean that she was going senile, or losing her mind.

The train passed the stop before the one they wanted. Taking the lead once more as though her companion were a child, Minerva gripped Sybill about one birdlike upper arm. "Come on, we're almost there."

The muggle apartment building was not much to behold. In a dirty little area of London, it was generously decorated by local wall artists with all sorts of lewd, spray painted messages. Minerva glanced at the sheet of paper Albus had given her. Level eight, room 312. Theodore and Elaine Munt. Their daughter was called Serenity. Minerva could not help but feel sorry for her.

After a brief explanation through the intercom that they were here to talk about Serenity's education, Minerva and Sybill were given admittance to the foyer. Leading Sybill through, though not physically this time, Minerva pressed the button that would bring the building's elevator to them. The muted rumble announced its arrival, and the doors slid open. Sybill emitted a whimper of fear.

"My inner eye warns me against this course of action, Minerva, I see a death trap, I see disaster. We should take the stairs."

Minerva rolled her eyes, frustrated. If the woman was claustrophobic, why could she just not come out and say it? Her reply was terse. "It is on the eighth floor, Sybill. I'm too old to walk up that many flights of stairs just because of a prediction of doom. It won't take us long. Come on." And she stepped inside. Sybill, peering at the doors as though they were going to come closed on her as she tried to enter, edged forward slowly, then darted in after her. Minerva pressed the eight, and the doors closed.

Albus had been right. If it weren't for the fact that the gaudy shawls and the strong perfume had put the muggle couple on an immediate wavelength with Sybill, Minerva probably would have cursed them. They were like a muggle equivalent of Sybill, what the muggle-born wizards of the sixties she had taught had referred to as 'hippies'. Only it seemed they had never gotten over it. If it had been up to Minerva to communicate with them, she would have been beating her head against the wall of the dingy little apartment.

It was as though the couple had prepare for their arrival, but even more strange to realise that they had not, that this was how they lived and dressed on a daily basis. Theodore wore his hair long, with a fringe that he had to lift out of his eyes to greet them. He was blonde, though there was a yellowish quality to it that suggested he had used a badly made tinting potion. On this day he was dressed in a pair of brown jeans and a bright yellow long sleeved shirt that sported ruffles at the cuffs, around the neck and down the front. Glancing at his wife, Minerva had to concede that they matched. Elaine rivalled even Sybill. Blonde, her hair was long, in a style that should have remained in the era she seemed to be stuck in, she wore a long purple skirt made from mismatched panels of cotton and satin, and a blouse which made Minerva's head spin, so frenzied were the designs. Around her neck were about five sets of beads, and at least double that on either wrist. Every finger had a ring. The earrings that dangled from her lobes were as big as small saucers.

The four of them were invited to sit in a circle on the floor, a floor covered in rugs and pillows and various odd shaped soft things. The décor was garish, oranges and yellows and browns in hideous swirls and tie dyes. The walls and corners of the room were inhabited by potted plants, explosions of greenery that surrounded the apartment's inhabitants with a veritable jungle

Sybill lay her hands out, open, by her sides, and closed her eyes. "Come, let us all join hands and thank the cosmos for this beautiful occurrence, so they may smile down upon us and the future of the young one."

Reverently, Theodore and Elaine extended their hands, twining their palms together. Elaine's hand slid into Trelawney's grasp, and, reluctantly but willing to do whatever it took to get this over with, Minerva took hold of one of Sybill's dry claws, and allowed Theodore to take her other hand.

Sybil rocked, and her voice, when she spoke, came out high and lilting. "O moon Goddess, O stars, bless us these people here, and help them to understand the magic in the world, and that their daughter is gifted with such magic." The two muggles were watching her with and expression of awe, taking in her words and mimicking her rocking. Minerva had to remember not to be impressed. This wasn't playing to the crowd. This was actually Sybill.

She opened her eyes, and her misty tones were back. "I have looked to the stars and I have seen the magic within your daughter. She possesses a powerful gift, and it must be honed and trained. If not, great doom will befall her. The orb instructed me to come to you today and bring this message. Serenity must be trained at our school."

For the first time, an element of practicality showed through onto Elaine's face. "School? There is a school?"

"Yes. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We magical folk are many, more than you might realise, and we have built for ourselves a shelter from the harshness of those outside, a place where we may live and teach our young ones in peace."

Minerva's hands had gone sweaty, holding the others, and she moved as if to extricate herself. Sybill's voice rose shrilly. "Do not break the circle, Minerva! This is a circle of truth and unity, a symbol of all that has come together between us, joined now as we are by the girl, Serenity."

Oh, for the love of Merlin. Minerva fought not to scowl. Instead, she decided to inject a small amount of normality into the conversation. "Your daughter will study at the school for seven years, at which time she will be a fully qualified witch, and may pursue a career in the magical world, or may return to your world if she so chooses." Both of the muggles looked at her as though just noticing she was there, and neither looked very impressed by the cool practicality of her tone. It seemed they were much more at home with Sybill's theatrics.

"I foresee the impact your daughter will make upon both worlds, and it is great. She must be encouraged toward this goal, into this life, for she cannot begin to realise her destiny without your input."

Minerva wondered vaguely where Sybill was pulling all this from. She doubted the woman could foresee so much as tomorrow's weather, but the sheer size and imagery of her imagination was mildly impressive.

It went well. Painfully slowly, and with enough clichés and platitudes that Minerva wanted to tear her hair from her skull, but well. The strange muggles were nothing short of in love with Sybill, and the very idea of their daughter possessing magic powers was beyond their wildest dreams. Minerva was uncharacteristically silent, even as they departed. Apart from the fact that she feared opening her mouth would lead to screaming her frustration, she didn't feel that those muggles were on the same channel as her, anyway. Before they departed, Minerva had watched Elaine press something into Sybill's hands as though making an offering to a deity. "To help you see", she had said. It might have looked a little more dramatic than it had, if in the next moment one of Elaine's bangles had not caught itself in Sybill's shawl, forcing the two women to go into a complex untangling dance that almost made Minerva laugh.

It was thus with great pleasure that she stepped out from the threshold of the apartment, and into the relative freedom of the hallway. Now all they needed to do was get back to Diagon Alley with all their limbs intact, and all would be well. Except perhaps for Minerva's nerves. Albus was going to pay for this. He was going to pay. It was only as they were leaving that she realised just how thoroughly his flirting and twinkling eyes had manipulated her. He would have been quite able to come on this visit with Sybill himself.

Minerva pressed the down button on the elevator's panel, and Sybil grabbed her wrist. "I must caution against this, Minerva. My inner eye is insistent. It sees not a method of transportation but a pathway to catastrophe."

"Your inner eye needs glasses." And with that stepped once again into the elevator, forcing Sybill to follow. She pressed the ground key, and could not help but glance at her colleague as the machine whirred to life, and they started to descend.

7, 6, 5, 4… thud.

The elevator shuddered to a halt. Sighing, Minerva pressed the ground key again. Nothing. One more time. Nothing.

She glanced at her companion, who was beginning to wring her hands, eyes darting about like a caged animal. This was all she bloody well needed. Faulty muggle machinery. She was never going to hear the end of this. They would have to see how far they were down, perhaps climb out through the gap, or apparate out. Minerva pressed the button to open the door. Nothing.

"It's malfunctioned." She glanced up at the security camera in one corner. "I hope that means the muggle security has malfunctioned as well. We'll have to apparate, despite the risk of exposure."

Sybill nodded, as if not trusting herself with her voice.

"I suppose I'll see you back at school then, with the new year."

"See you then."

Minerva closed her eyes and pictured her location, that lovely holiday cabin in the Highlands. She pictured the roaring fire, and her white haired companion waiting for her beside it. She willed herself there. A whip crack, and the sense of rebounding off something.

Still in the elevator.

A drop of dread in her stomach as her mind clicked and she realised the problem. "Iron, it's made of iron." Iron was, of course, in large quantities, a natural barrier against magic. She massaged her temples with one hand, then rolled her head back on her neck. Sybill, beside her, had started to breathe heavily, to hyperventilate.

"I warned you, Minerva, I told you something like this would happen!" The misty quality of her voice was gone, now it was shrill with panic.

The frayed nerves Minerva had been nursing all afternoon snapped, and she turned on her fellow professor. "When do you ever predict anything but doom!"

The normally composed transfiguration professor found herself unable to hold back her fiery, Scottish temper. With a cry of frustration, she kicked the iron door with one booted toe, and banged a fist against it. "Shit!"