Phoebe struggled not to succumb to the sudden bout of nausea. The Auror, as she'd figured it was a title, had done something with his wand, as the goblin had called it, and they'd been squeezed and spun in a most uncomfortable fashion. They'd appeared in a completely different place. The man spoke low and slow. "Is that your first time apparating? I would have said something if I'd known." The child just nodded miserably. "We'll wait until you feel better, before we head in."

She took a few deep breaths, her stomach settling and eyes feeling less like they were pushed to the back of her head. Proudfoot smiled. "It helps if you close your eyes. For next time."

"Next time?"

He looked a bit taken aback. "Most likely." He held his arm out, and she laid her fingers on it again as he led her off. They moved through doors and passageways, and once in a creaky metal cage. She watched the vast numbers of people moving to and fro in some sort of choreographed dance. Most seemed to move aside instinctively, but more than once the Auror stepped between her and someone not paying attention, speaking too fast for her to quite understand what he said to them.

Finally they reached his destination, and he opened a wooden door. Inside, there were several desks and chairs, with other people wearing that same insignia. They glanced up as she entered, but went quickly back to their quills and parchment. With flicks of their wands, papers would fold themselves into birds and fly off. Phoebe ducked when one came too close. "Come, Miss Max. Please sit. I need to ask some questions. May I see the letter?"

She handed him the one-line note. "I see, Miss Max. Not much to go on, is it." He wrote a note, sending it off in bird form to parts unknown. In slow careful English, the man pulled information from her. Her father's name, his parents' names, what she was called, to start. His eyebrow lifted when she stated her mother was the Lady of Dawn and Dusk. When he asked her to point to her place of birth on a map, she couldn't identify the strange coloured divides, though the landmass was moderately familiar. Her birth was recorded as "midwinter", due to a lack of understanding of how they managed the calendar. A few more fruitless questions about how she got to Gringotts and where she came from had him sighing.

The woman with the blue-tinged hair returned while he sat there. "Hello, duckling. We weren't properly introduced before, now were we. I'm Wren. I'm Elliot there's partner. Tell me, has he at least fed you? It's half past."

Phoebe's brow knit. "Half past what, Ma'am?"

Wren threw her head back and laughed, startling the girl. "Never mind that, dearie. It'll get easier. So, while we wait for the idiots down in records to find the will, would you like some lunch?"

"If't pleases ye."

"So polite. You're a pureblood for sure, with those clothes and those manners."

Phoebe shrank back in her chair a little, but didn't say anything to the hurtful words. Proudfoot sighed. "Leave off, Wren." He stood, turning to Phoebe. His curt voice softened and slowed. "Miss Max, would you care to join me for luncheon? I would be honoured to escort you."

"I would indeed, Auror Proudfoot. 'Twould be a delight."

"Wow, Elliot, I didn't know you had it in you."

"I've always been good with children, that's why you pulled me into this."

"What, should I have snagged Everleigh?"

They continued to argue good-naturedly as they traversed the maze of halls, arrived in the cantina, and procured lunch for three. "Fish and chips, duckling. You'll love it." Phoebe wasn't quite as enamoured of the greasy fare as Wren appeared to be. The two aurors finished their food and sent their wooden trays flying toward a rack in a corner. Proudfoot and Wren both turned in surprise when the third tray sailed after them. Wren's mouth dropped for just a moment. "Duckling? Did you?"

She obviously expected a reply. "Was't not properly done, Auror Wren?"

"No, no. It's fine." The woman glanced left and right, then leaned down and lowered her voice. "Duckling, for now, let the grownups handle the magic, okay?" Wren and Proudfoot shared an inscrutable look.

"Yes'm."

When they got back to the Auror office, an official-looking man was waiting with several folders. Phoebe was ensconced on a dingy couch while the aurors spoke to him. A few minutes later, Proudfoot motioned her over. "Miss Max, do you know what the will states?"

"No, sir."

The officious man took over, speaking rapidly. Something about grandparents and vaults and sleeping. Wren cut in. "You're going too fast. Poor thing can't understand you."

He shook his head sadly. "Oh. Simple, is she? Well, being a squib makes this much easier," he said with some satisfaction. Wren nearly growled at him.

Proudfoot stepped in as Wren scowled. "She's not a squib, Ellard, she's just not proficient in Modern English."

The Ellard man hmmphed. "Parents these days. What are they teaching their children? So what does she speak?"

"A dialect that seems to blend Elizabethan and more modern English, though there are some odd words mixed in."

"Isn't that peculiar." He glanced back down at the paperwork. "Regardless, the will is clear. If there are no close relatives available, then the Puceys are to be contacted. We've already dispatched an owl, and should hear back soon. You can keep her with you until they arrive, yes?"

Proudfoot crossed his arms. "She'll stay here with us, yes."

"Excellent." The Ellard person slowed his speech down and got very loud. "It. Was. Nice. To. Meet. You."

Phoebe just stared a moment. "Indeed, Sir."

After Ellard left, Proudfoot and Wren got Phoebe situated back on the couch. Wren came up with tea, and Proudfoot found a book for her to read. He was lucky she was literate in their language. They returned to work, checking on her frequently.

It wasn't more than an hour or two before three people were ushered into the office. "Proudfoot! The Puceys to see you!"

The man strode up to Proudfoot's desk, shaking hands as the auror stood. The woman's eyes came to rest on Phoebe, then widened. She pulled the younger male forward. Phoebe politely closed the book and stood. "You must be Phoebe Elizabeth. It's wonderful to meet you, dear. I'm Elladora Pucey, and this is Adrian. I met your father, once, when I was a very little girl." She spoke carefully. "He was a relative, I think, though distant. I think you are my mother's second cousin. Not that it matters, dear."

""Tis glad I be to meet ye, Madam Pucey, Master Pucey."

"Oh, no dear, none of that. You must call me Aunt Ella. And do you prefer Phoebe or something else?"

Phoebe debated a long moment. "Papa called me Bethy. 'Tis a name for family. Others, for them Phoebe shalt I be, if't be possible."

Ella's face softened. "Bethy was my grandmother's name." She clapped her hands together, and Phoebe tensed. "There's much to be discussed, Bethy, but it will wait until we get you settled. I think a quick shopping trip is in order, first. Am I correct in assuming you have no trunk with you?" Phoebe nodded, unsure how to react to the determined cheerfulness.

The man had finished his business with the Aurors. Proudfoot brought him over to join Phoebe and the other Puceys. "Miss Max, it has been a pleasant day in your company. I shall call upon you in the near future." He winked. "Does this conclude our accord?"

"Auror Proudfoot, a word if't be permitted?" He glanced at the Puceys and they moved farther away. Phoebe leaned in. "Sir, request I the man take the oath."

"Miss Max…" he looked at her face. "This is important." She nodded. "I will ask that he take the oath."

"Then shall ye released be after that time, shouldst ye wish."

A hushed conversation between the two adult men was had. Mister Pucey looked vaguely offended, but after a few more words, appeared to acquiesce. Proudfoot led him to her. "Miss Max, this is Mister Damien Pucey. Mister Pucey, this is Miss Phoebe Elizabeth Max."

Damien smiled slightly. "My Ella would be most displeased if you refused to call me Uncle Damien. I understand you need an oath?"

"If it pleases, sir, Papa required I request an oath." She bit her lip. "The words fail, sir. The oath of any man set as protector."

"I understand completely. Had I a daughter, I would want the same thing." He took out a wand, and reached for her hand, which she gave. "I swear on my magic that I will do everything in my power to protect you as I would any member of my household and family, for you are from this day forward a daughter of my house." Proudfoot winked at her, knowing the man had already taken a similar, far more in-depth, oath, required of all fosterages sanctioned by the ministry.

Phoebe didn't feel the push to reciprocate this time. He was swearing a family's duty, not a personal promise, and she understood the duties of being part of a family. "Pleased would be mine sire, sir."

"Uncle Damien, remember?"

"Uncle Damien."

Damien smiled more genuinely. "My Ella has always wanted a daughter. Looks like she's getting one at last. Now come along, if I know my wife, we have shopping to do."

Ella Pucey absconded with Phoebe to a washroom to clean her up. "Those aurors. Did they not even think? Leaving a child in such a state." She also had a wand, and waved it silently over Phoebe. "That's better. Now, let's just see." She waved several other times, mending and straightening Phoebe's clothing and hair, and whisking away the last of the dried blood crusted in her curls before leading her back to the rest of the Puceys.