October 27, 1995

I sat at my desk with a contented sigh and pulled out my copy of the Daily Prophet to read before our morning meeting and wait for one of the elderly tea witches who made rounds to provide a morning drink to the staff. These women found me horrifying for my blatant dislike of this country's bitter leaf juice. So did my coworkers.

I decided to ask. The worst case scenario was to buy a coffee device and put it in the break room down the hall. I did not want to spend the money for the parts unless I had too. If nobody here drank tea, I did not want to think about the cost of getting the right parts and pieces from a brewer to make a morning cup with a filter, some coffee beans and an aquamenti charm. It was delicious, but a lot of effort for a single cup. Though I could set it up in the morning and pick it up in half an hour. There was a need for a few more paychecks in the bank before I felt comfortable enough to do anything about that.

The knock on the door announced Agatha's arrival. She was a little old witch with white hair and a gentle, grandmotherly air and a disturbing passion for tea. Her cart had a small hot plate that kept a kettle of water full and hot along with a selection of tea for various employees.

There was a chorus of greetings to Agatha, or maybe just the tea on the cart, which she responded to with a cheery greeting of her own.

"I have green tea for the Minister, the earl grey for Percy, that peach stuff for Eddie and that… American bean juice for your secretary."

She brought the coffee! I can finally begin to feel like a human!

"Thank you, Agatha!" I could smell the coffee. It was lingering in the air like a siren song. I struggled to find any good coffee, America was as peculiar and careful about our national drink as the English were with their tea. I reached out and accepted the mug from Agatha with an excited smile, putting two spoonfuls of sugar and some milk with a few flicks of my wand.

I took a sip.

"How is it?" Agatha asked as my coworkers prepared their own drinks.

It was terrible.

"Delicious, thank you!" I smiled and took another sip as she looked at me with a pleased smile.

I moved the mug aside, I would finish it, it was not undrinkable, but it tasted funny. Stale seemed an apt descriptor.

Agatha bid her goodbyes as quickly as she arrived, leaving the office to look through our respective copies of the Daily Prophet, or in my case the copy of the New York Ghost had been left on the Fountain of Magical Brethren that morning when I had come into work. I settled back in my chair and skimmed the headlines. It was several days out of date, but Quadpot season was in full swing and I needed to know how the New York Snidgets were doing for my own peace of mind. They were just… so bad at Quadpot.

I tried to erase the memory of the Snidget's loss to the Philadelphia Riders and their gloating green creature of a mascot's celebratory dance after it defeated the person in a Snidget costume in a celebratory brawl on the pitch. It had been a very long season.

Seeing nothing of concern in the sports section, I moved my attention to the front page headlines.

Has Voldemort returned? British Wix Say No!

Hm. Maybe I should ask about this?

"Percy?"

There was an acknowledging noise from across the room. I looked up to see Percy focusing intently on the copy of the Daily Prophet while he drank his tea, looking for tidbits of information for the Minister to rebuke in his next press conference.

"What do you think about this Voldemort thing?"

Percy snapped to attention so quickly his tea went into his lap.

I turned my spare manilla folder into a large towel and expelled it across the room so quickly it accidentally landed on his head. He yanked it off with an annoyed noise as he waved his wand about to dry himself off without being burned.

"You! Know! Who!" His face and neck were the same blistering red as his hair as he angrily enunciated each word.

"I do not know who!"

"Weasley! I don't think she knows," Eddie's voice cut through the room.

"How could she not? She reads the paper all day!"

Mostly papers from the States I needed to know when Jack announced his run and who his primary opponents would be aside from rumors about Ismelda Wolf.

"You never give me anything to do!" I was the office secretary, the only person who gave me things to look over was Eddie, who seemed quite pleased with my quick turn around time. My job was to chase people off and do whatever low level paperwork and scheduling no one else wanted to do. Percy tend to make me feel lazy because he never passed any extra stuff over.

"Because you have terrible spelling!"

"So do you!"

"I think that's a culture thing," Eddie's voice broke through in an effort to put us back on track, but neither Percy or I really cared to hear it, instead resorting to a stony silence as we glared at each other. I could hear Eddie pushing back his chair slowly. "Aud, a word."

I followed quickly, leaving my tea-soaked coworker to his own devices.

Eddie closed the office door with a click while I leaned against the wall. I was pretty sure Eddie, as nice as he was, had every power to fire me. If I was to be fired for ignorance, then perhaps he should just get it over with.

"Um…"

He did his best impression of my father when he was trying to explain the differences between boys and girls.

"How much do you know about… Uh… Whatever you call him."

"Voldemort?"

Eddie looked like I had just uttered a horrible swearword and paled considerably in an instant. "Yeah, that word. Don't say that. It's You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Not that other word."

I raised an eyebrow as I looked at Eddie. "You mean his name?"

"Er… Yes. Exactly." He shuffled his feet nervously. "You know about the war? You-Know-Who's rise to power?"

"I know it happened." I had some recollections of my mother reading or listening to international news in the living room when I was little. Her pale face and wide eyes as she read the papers my father would bring home from MACUSA for her. I remembered her weeping over the survival of the Potter boy.

"It was horrible. People would just disappear, whole families would be found dead in their homes, wizard and muggle. The name, brings up memories… terrible ones. Everyone knows someone who was killed in one fashion or another. We don't say the name because of the memories of it."

It seemed it was more than memories. It was a deeply rooted fear that I was not sure I understood. Fear of a thing was tangible, fear of a name was silly and gave it more power. Any current understanding of the events of over twenty years ago I had was from accounts more exaggerated about Voldemort being defeated by an infant and a brushing over of the events that led to such a thing. America's understanding of the situation was a dark wizard was left to simmer with his followers due to incompetence from the government and Dumbledore perhaps being too old to have another duel with a powerful dark magic practitioner.

"I'm sorry I didn't understand that."

I should apologize.

"It's fine. You didn't know." Eddie smiled and gave my shoulder a friendly squeeze. "Nice job making Percy squeal though!"

I chuckled awkwardly. Eddie gave my shoulder another shake to try and make me feel less embarrassed for this… social disaster. The door opened with a click, I held the door open for Eddie and followed him back into the office.

Percy was hunched over, sorting some papers in his file cabinet and still looking irritated.

Pride was always a fool's sin.

I stepped forward and waited quietly for Percy to finish what he was doing.

"I owe you an apology. I did not know anything about that… Thing. I am sorry I upset you."

He seemed taken-aback by the apology, his eyes slightly widened behind his glasses at my contriteness. I suspected he was a person who was not used to apologies.

"Apology accepted."

He smelled like tea.


Oo0Oo0


After a tense, but almost entertaining dinner with Lucinda where she tried to fix what she referred to as my American eating habit of switching my fork from hand to hand. I must have picked that up at school. Lucinda noticing this led to an evening of decorum courses in her office while she reviewed her account books.

"Stand up straight," Lucinda's stern voice echoed through the library as the books she was having me balance on my head fell to the floor with several loud thuds. "Don't hunch, do you want to be bent like a tree when you're old?"

I would have an excuse to admire everyone's shoes.

"No, Auntie," I said as I picked up the books.

"Try again." She resumed her paperwork with the scratching of a quill.

I took a steadying breath and adhered to Lucinda's wishes.

Lucinda's office was a mess of books on law relating to a variety of topics, most related to inheritance law. What she was having me to try to balance on my head like a performing monkey was two tomes about laws in relation to werewolves and a third book about inheritance law. I was uncertain as to why she had any of these.

I began to walk to the other side of the room, making every effort to not move my neck, shoulders… Nothing but my legs.

"I was talking to Elizabeth yesterday, she says you're doing very well at your job."

"Oh," I struggled not to move my mouth too much in case it inspired the books to tumble again. "How's she doing?"

"Her greenhouse is starting to bloom with a new medicinal plants to sent to the potioneers."

"That's good!" My hands touched the opposite wall and I felt a swelling of relief surge through my body before I removed the books from my head. "Do you know what she's growing?"

"No, I leave the plants too Tavish."

"Oh…" An effort to bond with Lucinda had been thoughtlessly shot down with blunt words. I willed myself to bounce back to a confident, unflappable state I was beginning to find. Not everyone found herbology interesting after all. "What do you do for fun, Auntie?"

"I read books, mostly law." She paused before adding. "I was Ministry policy writer before I took over Thornell from your grandfather."

"So, what was grandpa like?"

"Impulsive, impetuous and had a tendency to woolgather."

"I see." My gaze drifted over to the young man in the painting with dark auburn hair and dark blue eyes that reminded me of my own who was watching Lucinda and I with interest. He looked like Lucinda, they had the same thin face and wore glasses. That was where the similarities ended, Callum Ainsley had an easy smile that I often saw as I moved around the house. He would follow me through the pictures once in a while, watching me thoughtfully and leading me to interesting things in the house like an old room that had paintings on the walls that reflected the estate grounds, another time he led me to an beautiful rocking horse for children before disappearing with a wink. He must have been more inclined to joy than his sister.

Alex looked like Grandpa Ainsley. Alex was a grim, intense personality but his smile was crooked in the same way as our grandfather. They had a similar slim build and their hair fell over their foreheads in in the same fashion. It was comforting to see, a reminder that we were actually related to people outside of the Graves family.

Though the rest of Alex was the spitting image of our father, which I'm sure Alex hated.

"Managing Thornell also gives me great pleasure. It's nice to continue running the family home."

"You grew up here and Callum got the house with his family. Is that right?"

"Yes, women get a short shaft in inheritance law and our parents were… pleasant enough for the time. I was older, but the expectation was that I would marry into another pureblood family. My getting a job instead was considered shocking and scandalous."

Maybe things were not so different here, my Jack Graves's highest ambition for me was to be a secretary and marry a prominent politician that I would meet at work. Perhaps someone with enough charisma to be a political ally for him while he mentored any sons I had in politics. Maybe my father was the old soul Vanessa always described him as? Either way, no matter the time, it was impractical to remove half of a workforce because of expectations of children, though magical children had particular needs. Why was it never expected for a man to be more active raising children in the states?

"I think that's enough for today." She closed the account book she was working on with a snap. "You said you were going out with some friends from work?"

"Yes. I'll be back around eleven."

Lucinda nodded and waved me away. My feet moved so quickly I felt myself fly down the steps, barely even stopping for my cloak as I flung a handful of floo powder into the grand fireplace.

"Diagon Alley!"


Oo0Oo0


The Blasted Bludger was absolutely packed with a raucous party of young Ministry clerks and what appeared to be Quidditch players in their team memorabilia. The crowd was mostly twenty-somethings and the occasional thirty something who was trying to pick up girls of uncertain age.

The air was hot and stuffy, I pressed myself back against the wall to try and pinpoint the table Misty told me she reserved on the upper floor.

A familiar head of flaming hair emerged from the crowd as I picked up my drink.

"Oi! Yankee!"

I looked around quickly to find a shock of bright red hair poking out of the swarm of people at the pub. Misty's bright green eyes were gleaming like a cat's in the low light of the bar as she leaned against the upstairs railing. She gave me a stunning smile of shiny white teeth that seemed more pointed then any other person's I had ever seen. She pointed to the staircase that would lead to the balcony table she had reserved. I steeled myself with a deep breath and threw myself into the crowd, trodding on toes on accident and getting elbowed in turn as people stepped on mine to get to the bar. Once I climbed up the stairs Misty's hair guided me like a beacon to a small table overlooking the lower floor. Misty was with another woman, two full pitchers of butterbeer on the table between them.

Misty jumped into one of the empty chairs and pushed out the other for me with a flick of her wand. I took it eagerly, smiling politely at both women.

"Thank you for inviting me out tonight."

"No trouble, I wanted to thank you for putting that Jasmine bitch in her place. I've never seen her stutter like that!" Misty leaned back in her chair and fanned herself with her hand as she imitated a swooning damsel. "Amazing!"

I laughed and accepted the extended hand of the other woman.

"I'm Zara West, I play for Harpies." She was taller than Misty with laughing blue eyes and purple streaks in her dark hair. She wore No-Maj clothes with carefully placed rips and studded bracelets. The kind of clothes I had seen No-Maj's wearing on the streets and parks.

"Oh, you play Quidditch?" The words came unbidden from my mouth as I tried to sound educated about my new home. I knew nothing about Quidditch. Just that it was the English version of Quadpot, or perhaps the other way around was more accurate.

"Yep. I'm a Chaser," She smiled wolfishly. "I'm pretty good too."

My stomach fluttered at the passing thought that these women might very well become my friends in this strange new country. It was too soon to come to anything conclusive, but they were so friendly and kept my mug topped off from their pitcher, explaining the concept of rounds as a pub tradition when out in a group.

Zara and Misty kept most of the conversation flowing, along with the drinks. They were from rural communities outside of London, Misty had a large extended family in Nottingham, her father was a blacksmith who made shoes for Abraxens and Zara was from an old coal mining community in the north of England where she was the only one who had magic. I took the opportunity to ask questions about them and practice my story. That I had a large family, one older brother, two younger siblings and far more cousins then I cared to deal with. My father worked in the wand registration office and my stepmother was an elementary school teacher.

"Oh, would you be related to that man who's talking about a run for MACUSA President then?" My chest tightened. Misty was a bit of a political animal apparently, I filed that note away for later. If she paid that much attention to American politics I would have to be a little more careful.

It was like I had done during my interview with Percy. I only hoped that I sounded more sincere. "Jack Graves? He's some sort of third cousin of mine, I think. I worked as an intern for him, and I wasn't impressed."

That was good. Acknowledge it. Play it off. America is a huge country and family don't pay each other much mind after the third cousin designation comes into play.

"Good! His politics are shit." Misty knocked back the rest of her drink and slammed the mug on the table ready to talk international affairs. I had never seen anyone drink as much as Misty did and keep their wits for sensible conversation. Misty was truly an inspiration to any aspiring social drinker. "No offense."

"None taken. He didn't pay me for the job like the other interns."

"No!" The two women whispered in horrified unison as I nodded in affirmation.

"Yeah, the boys got their money!" The alcohol made me sway in my seat as I pointed in a random direction, almost knocking a pitcher of beer out of a passerby's hand. "Sorry!"

"You can go to the labor board, right? Get your backpay?" Misty leaned forward, looking deeply into my eyes with a very serious expression.

I shrugged, "Getting the lawyer for the trimes he owed me is more then I can afford."

"How does it work over there anyway?" Zara asked, she was a little more delicate in her drinking, more of a lightweight than Misty, she swayed in her chair, or maybe that was me? "The politics thing?"

"Well, we have a presidential election every seven years, every four would line us up with the No-Mag's and we like to pay attention to that too. MACUSA's President acts as a chief diplomatic officer, helps establish new hidden communities for the magical and leads the Aurors in times of war and unrest. They approve or reject laws the rest of the time from the Senate Antechamber.

Misty nodded, "The paper had a segment about MACUSA elections a few years ago before the last one."

"Speaking of newspapers, a there any local newspapers worth reading?"

Zara threw her head back to finish the last drops of her beer, she slammed the glass on the table with a contented sigh. "The Daily Prophet is the big one, everyone gets that. The rest are more special interest."

"Like the New York Ghost?" I added before popping a fry in my mouth.

Misty nodded, "The Egregious Erumpent is a good one, it does a lot of international news and business. Some really niche international stories too."

"Stay away from the Quibbler, it's all conspiracies and entertainment."

"What kind of conspiracies?"

There was an exaggerated eye-roll from Misty, "Crazy stuff. Like Fudge being part of the Rotting Fang conspiracy or some such nonsense, or Sirius Black really being Stubby Boardman!"

Zara was laughing into her beer, her cheeks red as she quietly struggled for air before she managed to wheeze, "That was my favorite!"

I might have to get some subscriptions. The Quibbler sounded fun if nothing else.

"So if I wanted a subscription to the Egregious Erumpent how would I go about that?" I would be good to keep an eye on my father's presidential ambitions. If I had to lay low for seven years I would like to know in advance.

"The office is somewhere in London, in sight of the bridge I think," Misty threw her head back and downed the rest of her beer, placing the mug back down on the table with a contented sigh. "Send an owl or head down the office, they'd love to talk to you about whatever is going on in the States."

"Perfect. I'll go Monday!"

If my brother was on staff, Monday would be a good day to find him or his boss.

"Is it true you're working in the Minister's office with Percy Weasley?" Misty asked suddenly, that last bit of beer apparently giving her a final spark of courage.

I nodded affirmatively, "Yes. He's… Nice enough."

The two women exchanged a look and began to laugh. Zara's forehead coming to rest on the table as her shoulders heaved and shook while Misty's laugh took a nervous, high cackle that helped turn her cheeks the color of her burnt orange hair.

"Merlin's pants! I thought you were pulling Jasmine's leg! Has anyone told you what happened with the last secretary?"

"No. I heard she retired."

Please don't tell me he killed her and drank her blood like a vampire!

"Retired? Yeah. She wanted to wait another couple of years but she had a roaring fight with Weasley." Misty was struggling to keep a straight face. Zara was wheezing. "She called him an infant and quit on the spot!"

I started to laugh, as I pictured a grandmotherly figure with a prim white bun and carefully organized office supplies tearing into Percy with a bulldog-like tenacity. I buried my face in my arms as I fell forward onto the table in a giggly, drunken fit. My new goal was going to be not letting Percy drive me into a bottle of scotch through my own embarrassment or his weird personality.

And I was going to continue to spell in the American fashion, Percy could deal with it.


Oo0Oo0


Author's Note: As a treat, I'm posting this chapter early. I've realized this fic may be longer than anticipated, (added a chapter) but the outline for everything that has not been drafted is finished and finalized.

Regular updates will resume Dec. 5th.