The crack that rang out across the forest in the small California park was not a shot from a hunter, but the birds who had stopped to rest and chat in the trees weren't taking any chances. There was a great fluttering of wings as they leaped into the air, twittering angrily at the wizard who had disturbed them. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore (Grand Sorcerer, Headmaster, and a heap of other titles besides) took a deep breath. His trip across the American continent had mostly been through the major cities, and to finally arrive in fresh air was delightful.

He was not, strictly speaking, supposed to be here. As far as Minister Leach was concerned, the Hogwarts headmaster was attending a conference in New York for the International Confederation of Wizards. And he was… he'd just skived off a bit early on Wednesday. The middle day of these conferences was always the most boring… talk of legislation followed by networking and hobnobbing and other dreadful fluff. Instead Albus had slipped out, changed into his new muggle clothing, and apparated away.

He felt delightfully naughty, like back in his school days when he'd slip off to Hogsmeade on the odd Friday afternoon. He'd made a stop in nearly every state between New York and the west coast. Even cutting short his rests in between - just a little bit! - the journey had taken hours. It was easy to forget how large the Americas were. But now, finally, he was at his destination… or close to it, anyway.

Excitement made him grin… maybe this time, this time, he could finally meet her. Morgana. The witch who, indirectly, had helped create the magical world. This was his third trip to North America in his quest; he previous two attempts had ended in failure. He'd found two homes which he was certain had once belonged to her, but they were empty… only the barest hints of magic remained, signs of strong wards that had been torn down. Viewing the deeds only provided him with aliases that had gone cold. Both times he'd returned back to the UK in failure.

He looked around, admiring the trees and beautiful grasses to be found in the northern part of California. It was a wonderful place to live, located just a ways away from a nearby muggle town. It had been careful investigation that had lead the headmaster here, and he'd sat on the information for nearly two years. This visit was notable in that he'd made no hints to Nicolas Flamel that he was making the trip, no ploys at trying to get his research partner and mentor to confirm his suspicions.

Was Nicolas actively warning his own former mentor that Albus was looking for her? Why? What did Nicolas think his intentions were? He only wanted to talk… to learn what kind of man Merlin had been from someone who had known him; to know what the original Order had been like, centuries before it became the Ministry of Magic; to find out if she, as he suspected, had once been the witch known as Wadjet. And maybe - just maybe - to learn how she managed to move on… to keep living as time and regrets took their toll.

He hoped she was in a good mood; he didn't know what he'd do if she wasn't. Some thought she was a dark witch, probably because her Chocolate Frog card said so. But her card also called her a healer, and he thought that more likely. Would Merlin have associated with her otherwise? Not being evil didn't mean she was friendly, of course… he could only hope for the best.

He'd apparated into a park ground, courtesy of a pamphlet that he'd managed to obtain in nearby Sacramento. It was a wonderful day; the sun shone brightly in the sky, and in late September the weather was cool enough to his English sensibilities. It was a wonderful place to rest and recuperate. It was the kind of place he would have picked after the war, if he hadn't had responsibilities to his students and Hogwarts. Looking around, he noticed faint smoke through the trees, originating from just over a small hill.

Ah, people! It was as good a direction to start looking as anywhere, so after checking his muggle clothing - a dignified grey suit he'd purchased just the day before in New York City - he began walking in that direction. It didn't take long to crest the hill, revealing a wide, grassy area that served as a muggle campground. Being near noon, there were few campers, with the exception of a large grey tent set up on the far side, and a few muggle vehicles near to him.

The smoke he'd seen originated from in between those vehicles, where a small campfire had been allowed to burn down. A half-dozen young men and women, barely older than seventh-years at Hogwarts, were arranged around the fire, either reclining in folding chairs or lazing about on the grass. The youngsters seemed the best choice to speak to, so Albus walked in their direction.

Their heads came up as he neared; a young brown-haired man with outlandish sideburns and sunglasses sat in one of the chairs, nursing a beverage from a brown bottle. Opposite him was a lanky fellow cuddling with a statuesque copper-haired girl; the couple were smoking together, passing back and forth a small cigarette. A black-haired young man of Puerto-Rican descent stretched out on top of a sleeping bag in between them, a brown hat pulled down across his eyes. On the other side a blonde girl sat cross-legged with another girl's head in her lap, long black hair fanned across the grass. The blonde had peace symbol drawn on her cheek with face paint, and was currently extending the favour to her friend in spades… the raven-haired girl's own skin was barely visible beneath flowers and rainbows.

"Hello there!" he greeted. "My name is Albus… might I trouble you for a moment to ask a question?"

They glanced among themselves, probably making note of his accent. "Sure, man. You need something?" said the fellow with the sideburns.

"Well, as I suppose you can tell, I'm a visitor. I'm looking for a woman who I believe lives close to here, but - this is actually a bit embarrassing - I don't know her name, I'm afraid to say, or even what she looks like. I only know her by her work and some superficial traits."

The redheaded girl grinned. "Ooo, a puzzle! What do you know?"

"Well… she likely lives alone, and is fairly solitary. Enjoys gardening, and possibly uses a tall walking stick-" He paused as he watched the group shoot glances to each other. "Ah! You know who I'm referring to?"

"He means her, man," said the brown-haired fellow.

"Old Lady Ambrose," said the blonde.

"Ambrose?" Albus prompted. Greek for 'immortal'... or in Welsh: Emrys. He was far too old to twitter with excitement, but it was a close thing. "So she's known around here, then?"

"Sure, man. Everyone talks about her. Nobody's seen her face, though. We don't know if she's really an old lady or not. She moved in about six years ago, I think."

"They say she's an old woman, hunchbacked and stuff," said the brunette who was currently lounging across her boyfriend's lap.

"I heard she was a little girl," said the black-haired girl, her eyes still closed against the sun.

"All of the above, man," said the fellow with sideburns. "She's a witch, you know."

"Oh, don't be mean, Jacob."

"I don't mean 'witch' as in nasty, I mean 'witch' as in magic! Abracadabra and all that." Albus twitched; for the life of him, he'd never understand how the muggles associated magic with a corruption of the one spell no upstanding wizard would ever speak. "She's a nice lady… my brother got hurt playing in the woods once and she bought him to town. He said she could make light from the end of a stick."

"That's called a flashlight, man."

The youngsters bickered amongst themselves until Albus cleared his throat. "Do any of you know the way to her house? Could you point me in that direction? I'd be in your debt."

Barring the one girl still dozing in the blonde's lap, the six looked among themselves dubiously. "I dunno, man…" said Jacob.

"Oh, you bunch watch too many movies," declared the dark-haired girl, rolling to her feet. She hissed against the glare of the sun, covering her eyes with an arm as she reached down and fetched a pair of large sunglasses from near her feet. After putting them on she looked at him, and he could see the outline of her eyes blinking at him. "Does he look like a kidnapper or crazy person?"

"He looks like Gandalf," commented the redheaded girl. "He's just missing the pointy hat."

Thankfully a muggleborn student had gifted him with the Lord of the Rings books years previously - with a similar comment - so Albus knew what they were referring to. He chuckled. "You're not the first to say so. You needn't worry… I'm not about to pressure her into an adventure. I'm just a visitor eager to meet her."

"She lives just over the hill that way, just past the edge of the campground," the black-haired girl said. "There's actually a path through the woods. I can show you, if you want."

"That would be wonderful! Thank you," he said sincerely. The girl grinned in a friendly manner.

"Flower, what… you're going with him? But what about the concert? It was your idea!" protested the blonde, pouting. "We were supposed to go for ice cream!"

"Chill out! It doesn't start until eight, and it's only a three hour drive. We've got hours! You think I'd miss out on ice cream?"

"Fine, but if you're late we're leaving without you."

"You worry too much."

"I don't want to cause you any trouble…" Albus said.

'Flower' waved her hands. "It's no trouble! I wanted a walk in the woods. Besides…" She sniffed with exaggerated maturity. "The children should learn to be patient." Her comment elicited good-natured jeers and laughter from her friends. "Come on, Al!"

He winced; he hated that nickname. Nonetheless, he followed the young woman into the forest, nodding gratefully to the others.

The path was a clear one, and was even gravelled for most of the way. This was good, because while his own clothing wasn't exactly proper for a hike, his escort's were worse… she was wearing only sandals beneath the bell-like hems of her jeans, and her blouse was a cottony, flowing thing that would have caught on any branches or brambles they might have encountered. A pastel-blue headband fought a losing battle at taming her hair as the slight wind ruffled it, and she hummed a soft tune as she lead him along the path.

"You and your friends are going to a concert?" he asked, making polite conversation.

"Oh yeah!" she exclaimed. "The Rolling Stones are playing in Sacramento tonight. It should be a gas, though I've heard the Stones before and they're not really my thing. I'm more a Beatles girl." She pouted. "I missed their tour in the winter 'cause they only played the east coast and I didn't have my van yet."

"The 'Beatles'?"

Oops. That was the wrong question to ask, judging from the way she suddenly froze in mid-stride. Though he couldn't see her eyes, her expression was appalled. "You don't know who the Beatles are?"

He had the impression he'd just committed some incredible faux-pas. "Ah… no…"

"But…" She struggled. "You're British!"

He shrugged helplessly. "I apologize… all I can say is that I spent most of my time in Scotland. I help administrate a private school, you see… it's a bit… ah… stuffy."

"But they're the best thing England has made in the history of ever!" He merely blinked at her. "Okay, okay… they're a musical group, see? Paul, John, George, and Ringo…"

They continued along their way, and Albus was subjected to a torrent of education on current muggle pop culture. His gaps in knowledge about the Beatles were mended in short order, and along with that he got a heaping dose of current muggle slang. He couldn't wait to try some of the new words on the muggleborn students back at the castle. He'd have some fun then… or should he say, it'd "be a gas"? Merlin forbid the headmaster of Hogwarts should be "square"!

The voluble young woman had the ability to ramble on about a topic in a way that put Horace Slughorn to shame. Thankfully, after about twenty minutes of walking (and talking) Albus spotted a house visible through the tall, narrow trunks.

"- so I think Ringo really doesn't get the credit he deserves. I mean, the guy can play the cowbell! Who plays cowbells? I'll tell you: cows do. They're so gentle, and putting that gentle nature into music-"

"Ah!" Albus exclaimed, with delight and a little desperation. "Is this the house you were referring to, Flower?" He gestured ahead toward the small california bungalow, which was painted a lovely blue. It was located at the end of a lonely graveled road, surrounded with trimmed hedges and a few small gardens. There was even a small red metal mailbox on a post out front, though it was only painted with a house number, an exceedingly lonely "1"… no name or other clue as to the identity of the resident.

"May."

"Pardon? It may be? You're not sure?"

"No, no, no! That's it all right. I mean my name. It's 'May'." She grinned broadly at him, revealing even, pearlescent teeth. "The others just call me Flower, 'cause its more in-tune with the Earth and groovy and stuff. They like that sort of thing, though River's real name is Hubert, so he'd rather be called anything other than that. For me… May-Flower. April showers. Get it?"

"Oh." He didn't, but maybe it was a muggle thing. "Well, thank you… May. I should be fine from this point on."

"You're actually going up to the house? Are you actually going to go knock?" He nodded. "Then no way am I scampering now! You're the first person I've met who's ever been willing to go up to the place... if you're going inside I definitely want to come along! I'd love to meet Ms Ambrose!"

Albus wasn't sure of the wisdom of bringing a muggle up to a possibly-magical home, particularly the home of a witch who was as legendarily prickly as she was simply legendary. "I mean no offence, of course, May, but I wouldn't want you to get hurt or blamed for any mistakes I make-"

"Oh, don't be square. I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself. I'd be more worried about you! Besides, you're not going to be making trouble or anything like that, right? You're too," he watched her struggle for the right word, "British."

He was tempted to memory charm her and send her on her way, but she did have a point. And she was entertaining in a way, if a little exhausting. "Fine. How about we look out for each other, then?" he suggested, smiling despite himself.

She grinned again. "Groovy."

Albus walked up to the yard, and as he crossed the line drawn by the nearby hedges, he felt magical wards - strong magical wards - note his presence. Thankfully, since he had no malicious intent, they didn't eject or attack him; but if Morgana was anywhere at all, she knew he was here. Like the few other former homes he'd discovered that had once belonged to her, he couldn't help but note the similarity of the wards he felt to those that defended Hogwarts. Unlike those other places, these wards were still strong and maintained… they hadn't been torn down to allow muggles access. Albus' excitement grew that much stronger.

He paused, realizing he'd left his companion behind; May stood at the edge of the property, worrying her fingers and looking nervous. Her feet shuffled as if she was torn between moving forward and turning away.

Ah, of course… the muggle repelling wards. "May?"

"Just a sec, just a sec," she replied, confused worry in her voice. "Are you sure we should be doing this? I mean, I heard she was a nice old lady. Are we going to be bugging her? I don't wanna bug her."

"You needn't come with me, May. As I said, I'm fine from here."

"No, no! I want to!" She squared her shoulders. "I want to." Staring at Albus, she lifted one jean-clad leg, and with visible effort pushed it over the ward line. Her body followed, and when she put her foot on the ground on the other side she staggered a little, as if she'd stepped off a tall stair. Despite himself, Albus was impressed… it was a strong ward, though being able to see a wizard on the other side often helped a muggle fight the compulsion.

The dark-haired girl drew a breath. "Woo! Weird anxiety. Sorry about that, I'm not usually shy."

He smiled. "That I can believe."

"Thanks! Wait… is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"It's whatever you let it be," he said.

"You're smart," she said, visibly impressed.

"I'm responsible for nearly a thousand students, all of them figuring out what kind of people they want to be," he said with a smile. He gestured to the house. "Shall we?"

Together they walked up onto the porch. Hiding his nervousness, Albus knocked smartly on the door. After about a minute he repeated the action, but there was no answer.

"Do you think she has a lot of cats?" May asked, sounding almost fearful.

"I… what?"

"I heard about an old lady who lived alone with a bunch of cats, and when she died, the cats…" The young woman shuddered. "I don't trust cats."

Albus raised an eyebrow. "Well, I happen to know at least one 'cat lady' who would find your fears unnecessary."

"I'm just saying, give me a good dog any day. I love dogs. The bigger the better! Hey, have you heard about Newfoundland dogs? They're huge! My cousin in British Columbia has one, which makes no sense to me, because Newfoundland is like, a thousand miles away. They don't eat fish, either, just kibble, and my cousin has to buy these big bags of it, bigger than he is-"

Merlin help him, where did she find the air? "Oh, look," he interrupted, "the door is open." And it was, thanks to a wandless Unlocking charm. He pulled it open, peering in.

May's head poked around the door frame. "Ms Ambrose! Are you home?" she shouted. Albus winced, but he wasn't here to act like a burglar, so he couldn't complain. "Ms Ambrose?" She chewed her lower lip worriedly. "Do the cats have you?"

There was no answer, though Albus had no idea how anyone would answer a question like that. He stepped inside. Wanting to be polite, he removed his shoes; May followed his example, leaving her sandals by the door. The young woman was left in bare feet; her toenails were alternatingly painted a deep red and bright gold, and he couldn't help but like the colours, though the girl wouldn't know their association with Gryffindor.

The home was small but open. The bottom floor consisted of the living area separated from the kitchen with only the smallest of walls. The kitchen itself was decorated in yellow, with dark wooden cabinets, and equipped with muggle appliances. Meanwhile the living room was furnished with a comfortable-looking brown couch and a coffee table, and there was even a muggle television set in one corner. To his left a set of wooden stairs reached into upper floor or attic.

The un-magical living arrangement didn't surprise him, and was the reason why he wasn't overly concerned about May seeing something that would violate the Statute of Secrecy. He'd known that Morgana enjoyed her muggle comforts. And why shouldn't she? The gadgets muggles made could be quite impressive even to modern wizards, if they allowed themselves to acknowledge it. How much better would they be to a woman who remembered life in late antiquity?

"Hey, Ms Ambrose has a nice place," May remarked. "I figured an old lady would have more knickknacks and plates with pictures of roses on them. What is it with old ladies and plates with roses on them? Dylan's grandmother has, like, a million of them. You can't twitch in her living room without causing a Greek wedding."

"I… have no idea." He really didn't. "I'm just going to check upstairs. I'll only be a moment."

He climbed the stairs into what was obviously an attic that also served as a bedroom. The walls, painted a light beige, followed the slope of the roof, and the entire area was one large room. On one side was a comfortable-looking bed, still clothed in light sheets, and beside it was a wide dresser. On the other, near the stairs, a low-sitting table sat near a lounging chair.

A copy of Transfiguration Today lay on the table, still open several pages in. It was the current issue… Albus had a copy sitting on his desk back at Hogwarts, in fact. Apparently Morgana had been reading Euan Clutterbuck's article on partial transfiguration of seawater! And were those notes? Yes indeed! Elegant script and runes decorated the margins of the article. She'd noted what he had… that while Euan had managed to account for the arithmantic effect of the salt in the water, he'd completely disregarded the mineralized iron. Wonderful!

The magazine - just a magazine! - was a treasure, and Albus briefly pondered taking it. But no… he kept his hands to himself. It was bad enough he was roaming her house uninvited… he wasn't about to start filling his pockets!

Downstairs, Albus heard a crash of glass, followed by a "Whoops!" from May. Sighing, but silently thankful for the distraction from temptation, he turned and returned down the stairs, wondering what the girl had done.

Before he'd even made it to the bottom of the stairs he heard her calling to him. "Oh wow! Al! Al! Check this out!"

"Yes, May?"

She stood in the kitchen holding a glass. There was no sign of whatever had been damaged; she simply stood there with an amazed grin on her face.

"Check this out!" She held the glass out in front of her and let it fall. It broke against the vinyl flooring, tossing pieces of glass everywhere.

"May!" he scolded. "What in the world? We're uninvited guests here… and you're in bare feet!"

He moved forward to pick up the pieces so she'd be able to move without cutting herself, but she waved him away. "No, no! Watch!"

Even before she finished speaking the pieces of glass started to tremble. Then they leaped toward each other, shattering in reverse with a tinkle. The newly-repaired glass rolled on the floor, and May bent over to pick it up.

She held it out to him with wonder, and he took it gingerly. "Isn't that a gas?" she giggled. "I bet that came from NASA or something! They've come up with all sorts of neat stuff since Kennedy did that speech. Of course it's all a front for the missile program, but…" She frowned, a thought occurring to her. "Wait… your friend doesn't work for the military, does she?"

Albus looked up from where he was bent under the guise of checking the floor for damage. He couldn't feel any magic on the glass, but he was certain the floor was enchanted to repair anything that broke on its surface. How clever! It saved the effort of charming every glass individually. He couldn't discern the charm without his wand, but-

He shook himself. "Oh… oh, no, I don't believe so."

May looked relieved. "That's good. There's enough bombs and stuff, y'know? They don't need help making more."

"I quite agree. And I think she does, too… I believe she parted ways with the army on bad terms after the bombings in Japan."

That comment actually seemed to startle the raven-haired girl. "How-" The skin that wasn't covered in paint turned red. "You know a lot about this chick, eh?"

He shrugged, suddenly bashful. "She's… something of a hero of mine."

"Heroine. Not heroin, of course. I won't make that mistake twice! You should have seen the looks I got from the guidance counselor in high school." She pointed at a door in a corner of the kitchen, set into a wall that would be just under the stairs to the attic. The door was painted the same light green as the wall, and other than a small latch was near invisible. "Should we look in the basement?"

"Oh… well spotted." He opened the door and - with May's help - turned on the lights.

The basement held little, showing evidence of a hurried departure. The area was open, with a single table set up in the middle, and along the walls there were shelves and cupboards. Albus spotted a few items that would be familiar to any potioneer… an alembic, mortar and pestle, and even a small cauldron abandoned above a cold muggle bunsen burner.

May frowned. "Is this a drug lab?"

"I… don't think so?"

"That's good. There were a couple of guys in town who tried making LSD. They didn't have any windows open or anything, and they spaced themselves on the fumes. They had a great time until one of them set his crotch on fire with a bunsen burner and his buddy stomped out the flames. The docs had to amputate." May paused. "I think they're married now, so… happy ending? Maybe?"

"I see, I think. Well, nothing illicit here. Ms Ambrose is just interested in herbal remedies, as near as I can tell. She probably uses ingredients from her gardens."

"Oh, groovy!"

There wasn't much to look at in the room, although one counter had a number of small jars filled with what Albus recognized as potion ingredients. Lavender and valerian sprigs… for making sleeping draughts, he wondered? Ah… another jar contained mugwort. Perhaps sleeping draughts, but probably Dreamless Sleep potions instead. It made sense, and was sad all the same, but Albus was not one to judge others for making use of such potions. He indulged in them himself, more often than he would admit to Poppy, and he'd had not nearly the same amount of time to accumulate nightmares.

The few other bottles that remained were only basic ingredients, stock that wouldn't have been out of place in Horace's first-year potions class. Cheap, and easy to obtain. Discoloured areas on the shelf showed were the more valuable items had once sat.

"What's this?" May asked from behind him… she'd found a bottle in a cupboard. She hefted it, examining the label, but it had long ago faded beyond readability. Pulling the cork, she sniffed and nearly squealed with delight. "Oh, liquor!"

"Ah… May-" Before he could say anything more, she'd hefted the bottle and taken a slug.

She swallowed and coughed, her face turning red underneath the face paint. "Oh… oh wow, man," she rasped, "that's… smooth!" She went for another mouthful, but Albus quickly stepped forward and put a hand on the bottle.

"Please, May… I'm a bit old to be carrying you back to your campsite. And you said you had to drive later, remember?"

"Oh… right." She had the grace to look sheepish. Reluctantly, she replaced the cork.

Sighing, he glanced around. May's find was the most valuable item in the room (and she seemed to think so, clutching the bottle protectively); the expensive equipment had been taken, along with the most difficult to obtain potion ingredients. All that was left were the items most trivially replaced. She'd known he was coming - somehow - and packed and left. Hurriedly, perhaps, but gone all the same.

It was time to admit it: Morgana very much did not want to meet him.

Crestfallen, Albus climbed the stairs back to the kitchen, May following curiously on his heels. The headmaster walked to the living room and sank onto the couch, disappointment visible in the slump of his shoulders and the way he ran his fingers through his beard.

May looked down at him. "Who was this chick, anyway?"

"She… well, we work in the same industry," he explained cautiously. "She's very well known. I suppose you could say she's a legend in the field."

"So you wanted to… what? Interview her?"

"Oh, nothing so grand. I mostly… just wanted to meet her. She inspired me when I was a little boy."

May's eyebrows rose. "When you were a little boy? She's not a little girl, then."

He smiled lopsidedly. "No, definitely not. Although I'm told she's aged very well. I thought she might have wisdom to share, or even just stories to tell."

The young woman plopped down onto the couch next to him, putting the bottle of firewhiskey on the floor between her feet. She seemed fascinated by the corded fabric, running her fingernails along it to make a rhythmic voot sound . "Well," she said, "it looks like she doesn't want to be found."

Albus sighed, but nodded. "I fear you're right. I'm fairly accomplished myself, I was hoping she'd make an exception for me. I guess not. It was arrogant for me to think so."

May bumped him with her shoulder. "Oh, hey now, don't think like that. I'm sure she just likes her privacy. 'sides, if she's so well-known, that's, like, a load of expectations on her, y'know? They say you shouldn't meet your heroes, y'know. You find out they're just people and that's… like," she hesitated, and Albus actually found himself leaning in, "...a bummer," she finished. He was too amused to be disappointed.

And yet, from the mouths of babes… "Indeed," he agreed. He sighed and stood. "Well, with this a wash, I suppose I should be getting back to my proper job. May I escort you back to your van, May?"

She smiled up at him, and though he wasn't attracted to the fairer sex he acknowledged she was very pretty, though it was a shame she hid so much of it behind those ridiculous sunglasses. "Of course you may, fine sir!" He pulled her to her feet, and of course she bent down to fetch the firewhiskey. She hesitated, looking at the bottle. "D'you suppose it'd be bad if I kept this?"

He frowned, briefly. Strictly, he shouldn't, but… "If she misses it, feel free to send her my way. I'd be glad to replace it."

She paused, face slack, as she slowly worked through what he said… Albus imagined he could hear clockwork, and scolded himself for being uncharitable. Finally comprehension and delight blossomed on her face. "Oho! Clever!"

"I occasionally have good ideas. Shall we go?"

They left the house, Albus carefully locking it behind him. As they walked back, May asked him about his school, artfully distracting him. He was quite glad to speak of it, though he was carefully obscure about the curriculum. As far as he explained to May, Hogwarts was an elite school concentrating on history, chemistry, and astronomy… all of which were true, to a certain point of view.

"I love astronomy! I read all kinds of books about space travel and spaceships. I'd love to try to get into NASA, but I'd need a bunch of degrees, and I dunno if I have the patience for that. I still haven't figured out how to work a slide rule! I do wanna visit Cape Canaveral and… eh?"

Albus looked up as May suddenly halted. They were back at the campsite, but the others had obviously left; the chairs were gone, the fire extinguished, and only one vehicle remained.

"They left!" May huffed. "We weren't gone that long! Gods, they're so impatient."

"I'm sorry for delaying you," Albus said.

"Don't be, it was fun! Besides, the joke's on them… I'm the one with the tickets. I'll just meet them in Sacramento, we're going to supper first."

"I take it this vehicle is yours, then?" He looked the Volkswagen over; he rather liked the look of it, particularly with the addition of numerous decals and paintings of flowers all over it… May's friends obviously took her nickname seriously. The vehicle had rust settling in along the wheel wells and near the door handles, but it was obviously well cared-for.

"She's my baby, yep!" She patted the vehicle lovingly. "I saved for a long time to get her, believe you me. The trip to Sacramento is just gonna be the maiden voyage. She's gonna take me all around the US, and maybe up to Canada!"

"That's very good to hear," he said, and she beamed with his approval. "I do like hearing about young people getting out and exploring the world. The community I teach… well, they can be a bit isolationist."

"Well, that's no good. I didn't know Cherish or Jacob or April until just recently, and they've been all kinds of fun. Even if they do leave my beer out in the sun." May opened the side door of her van, revealing what Albus could almost describe as a nest; a sleeping bag and pillows filled the rear area, with suitcases packed along the sides. A plastic box sat behind the front seats, which May filled with some bottles retrieved from near where Jacob had been sitting. In the box - which was obviously intended to keep food cool - he spotted a tray of brownies.

"Oh, may I have a brownie?" Albus asked. "I must confess, I have something of a sweet tooth."

"Oh!" For a moment she actually looked panicked. "I- uh, I don't think you'll like those. I made those for my friends. They've got," she leaned in, voice lowering, "um, 'special' herbs and spices. If you know what I mean."

He didn't, but decided that was cause enough to avoid them. "Oh, well then. I'd best restrain myself, in that case."

May looked saddened. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, my dear." He sighed. "My doctor is always warning me about my sweet addiction."

"That's no fun. I love good food. I'd be the size of a house if I didn't dance so much."

"You dance?" he asked, looking her up and down. With that in mind, her slender but strong figure made sense. She was also very graceful, perhaps even more-so than Minerva, whose cat-like nature showed even when she wasn't in her animagus form.

"Oh, every chance I get! What about you?"

"Hogwarts will have the occasional student event, but as I'm sure you can imagine I'm usually busy making sure the students don't get carried away. I'm stuck being the 'square'." He chuckled. "I don't get much chance to participate."

"Well, let's fix that!" May dug around inside her van, producing a grey box, which unfolded to produce a record player. She picked a record out of a small collection kept in a milk crate, and after fiddling with some knobs and switches on the box, Albus was surprised to hear a classical waltz emerge from the box… The Blue Danube, if he wasn't mistaken. May dashed over and grabbed his hand. "Come on!" she cajoled; he was startled into a laugh, and followed her into the waltz as instructed.

They moved and twirled around the black remains of the campfire. He could feel her skill, and that she was holding back for his sake. The song was a spirited and joyful one, and it was easy to forget his disappointment; he was even encouraged to twirl her once or twice, which made her laugh along with him. They even gained an audience in the form of the family residing in the tent across the way, a small girl imitating their movements to the amusement of her mother.

He wouldn't have had the endurance for the entire song, but thankfully the version on the record was an abbreviated one. When the last notes played, he stepped back and matched her formal bow. "You understated your talent, May. Thank you very much," he said with a smile.

"Feel like something more modern? I think you'd twist and shout like a pro!"

"Alas, I'm afraid I have to get back to work. I must thank you, though… you've made this trip very entertaining."

"Aww. Okay, then. Did you need a ride anywhere? I didn't see you arrive in a car or anything."

He shook his head, assuring her that he had a car, it was just parked away from the campground. He watched her gather up her things, tucking it away into her van. Soon she was in the driver's seat, and the muggle engine growled to life.

She waved at him through the window. "'Bye Al! Have a good trip!"

He waved as the painted van putted down the narrow dirt road leaving the park. When the vehicle was out of sight he moved into the trees, where he could safely disapparate out of view.


After returning to New York, Albus dutifully attended the remainder of the conference. There was actually quite an interesting talk about the possible regulatory and environmental considerations of transfigured fuels for muggle combustion engines; he couldn't help but think about May's van. On Saturday, however, he was quite happy to pack up his room at the hotel and obtain his portkey home.

Because of the time difference it was past dinner when Albus finally navigated British Magical Customs and flooed to his office at Hogwarts. He was unpacking the few books he'd brought with him under Fawkes' curious eye when he heard the knock at his door.

"Hello, Minerva, Filius! Please come in." One of these days the pair would figure out he had identification wards outside his door - difficult to detect with the amount of ambient magic suffusing the school - but until then, playing at being an omniscient git was a good deal of fun.

The two filed in; Minerva looked as severe as she always did, but Filius was wearing his casual robes since it was the weekend. "Hello, Albus," the tiny professor squeaked. "Minerva and I were just doing a patrol when I thought I felt the floo network activate. How was your trip?"

He smiled. "Interesting, I can say. I was just going to ask the house elves to bring me a late dinner… would you like to sit and have some tea and biscuits with me?"

They accepted, nibbling at their biscuits while Albus wolfed down a plate of small sandwiches. In between bites he told them of the conference, pulling out a copy of Transfiguration Now he'd obtained for the black-haired witch and handing Filius the issue of Dueling Illustrated (not the swimsuit issue) he'd read while stuck in American customs. Then he described his side trip while in the Americas.

As they sipped their tea, he told them of his exploration of Morgana's home. Minerva sympathized with his disappointment; she'd idolized Morgana as a student as well. While Merlin was a very popular role model among all the students, many of the girls favoured Morgana, rumours of dark arts aside. Filius listened intently as he described the hidden potions lab. And of course he couldn't leave out describing his traveling companion.

Filius seemed as amused as the headmaster, but Minerva's lips pressed together in disapproval at the young woman's antics. "Really, Albus… you shouldn't have been encouraging her. Even muggles have to settle down and take on some responsibility at some point."

"Now, now, Minerva… she may not have been the brightest candle in the hall, but she had an adventurous spirit. I'd say our own students could stand to see the world more. Eh?" The three turned their heads as tapping could be heard from the office window.

Albus stood, walking over and opening the window to reveal a large, bedraggled owl. "Oh, hello. Are you looking for me?" The bird hooted with obvious annoyance. "Well, that couldn't have been easy, I've been traveling-" Whatever Albus' excuses were, the owl wasn't interested. It barged past him to land on his desk, dropping a small cloth sack. Then, without further ado, it jumped back into the air and flew away. Albus raised an eyebrow and silently closed the window again.

"A rather rude owl," Filius commented. "What was that about?"

"I have no idea. Let's find out." He lifted the small sack and pulled open the drawstring. "Oh! Candies!" he exclaimed with delighted surprise. He pulled out a small yellow treat.

"Albus!" Minerva protested. "Surely you're not just going to eat some candy brought to you by an anonymous owl!"

"No, no, of course not," he said, trying to make the course change back to the bag look as natural as possible. "Let's see who it's from, first." He pulled out a small letter that was also included, setting the bag down on his desk so he could unfold the paper properly.

The other two watched as he read quietly. Suddenly the famous headmaster's face went slack, paling. He sank back into his chair, his hand still holding the letter dropping to the desk.

"Albus? What's wrong?" Minerva asked with concern. He said nothing, a shaking hand extending the letter to her. She took it and read the short missive; her eyes widened at the signature. "Oh… oh my."

"Well, don't keep me in the dark!" Filius protested. He claimed the letter from the witch and read it silently. It was a short note, written in elegant script by a feminine hand with what Filius suspected was a muggle ballpoint pen.

No special herbs or spices in these, I promise. Enjoy!

PS: Thanks for the dance.

PPS: Stop stalking me. It's creepy.

Love, Muirgen

The name had a pair of hearts and some flowers drawn around it. Filius' eyes bulged, realizing exactly what he was holding and who had sent it.

He looked up at the stunned face of Albus. Then back to the letter. And then back to Albus.

"Buahahahah!"

Albus glared at the Charms professor. The tiny man teetered on his seat, nearly falling out of the chair as he cackled with high-pitched laughter. Wheezing, he managed to toss the letter back onto the desk, and then pulled his hat down over his head with both hands. Muffled squeaking could be heard through the fabric.

Albus glowered. "It's not that funny."

"Yes it is! Oh, yes it is!"

Minerva managed to ignore her coworker with effort. "Are you certain that's from… Her?"

The headmaster sighed. "I didn't tell her who I was looking for, and spelling her name in the old way… that's a detail a prankster isn't likely to think of." He rested his elbows on the desk, and dropped his head into his hands, pouting. "She helped me explore her own house. She got my approval to steal her own firewhiskey!"

Filius howled.

Minerva looked as if she'd been knocked on the head with a bludger. Filius continued to quiver under his hat. Albus sighed, trying to hold on to some measure of indignation, but it was impossible… he cracked as well. Soon both men were laughing uproariously, with Minerva sighing in between.

"I haven't been outplayed like that in quite some time," Albus admitted, wiping tears from his eyes. "It's… refreshing." He reached into the bag and tossed one of the candies into his mouth without hesitation. His face lit up with delight. "These are my favourites! How did she know?" He offered the little sack to them. "Lemon drop?"


In California outside Sacramento, a Volkswagen van buzzed along the newly-designated Interstate 80 highway. Inside, a deceptively-young woman by the name of May (aka Morgana, aka Jasmine Potter, and a heap of other aliases besides) hummed pleasantly as she drove. The face paint had been scrubbed from her face days before, and her sunglasses lay in the back of the vehicle, exposing her distinctive green eyes. The miles disappeared behind her as so many had before.

The VW veered wildly, though, as a ball of fire appeared above the passenger's seat. The fire spewed out a large bird, one that any wizard or witch would recognize as a phoenix. This particular phoenix was rather well-known among wizarding folk… most called him Fawkes, and believed him to be the familiar of the famous Albus Dumbledore. Fawkes himself would say they had it backwards. Jasmine would likely agree… if she wasn't screeching as she wrestled the van back into its proper lane, narrowly avoiding a nearby Chevy.

"GAAAHaaahdamnit! You ass! Don't do that!"

The bright crimson and gold bird settled into the seat and fluffed his feathers, the chirruping sound he made sounding very much like laughter.

"Oh, real mature!" she snapped. "Do you realize how unsafe that is, flaming in while I'm driving? How would you feel if I were to crash and die? Would you laugh then? You know how I get when that happens!" She shook her head with a growl. Fawkes restrained himself, though his feathers remained fluffed up in a way that only another phoenix - and the woman with him - would recognize as amusement. "Are you here for a reason, or just to damage my van?"

Fawkes chirped a few notes with an inquisitive tone. "Of course I'm okay... just a little hung over from the goodbye party last night. I'll sleep when I get to San Francisco… the 49ers are playing Chicago tomorrow, so I wanted to get the tickets first."

"Chiiiirp."

"How is a football game 'superficial'? Don't push me. I'm getting out, just like you want, just liked he wanted. I just needed some time to myself after the war. I'm allowed that, aren't I?" She cast a suspicious glance at the bird. "Speaking of which, how did Albus know about that? If Nicolas has been gossiping I'll be having words."

"Chirp! Chirp chiiiirp."

"Okay, okay, fine," she replied, somewhat reluctantly. She turned back to the road, and the two drove for a while in a silence that could almost be called companionable.

She glanced sideways. "How is your pet wizard, anyway? Did he get my present?" Fawkes sighed and then trilled in the positive. "Good. I hope he likes them. And takes the hint." The bird narrowed his eyes and chirped a low series of notes. "What? Do you know how much hassle that man causes me every time he does this? I had to Confund all those kids, and I can't even sell the house because I didn't have time to take down the wards!"

"Squawk!"

"Does the rest of the flock know you use language like that? Fine, fine... I'll let it go." She sighed. "By the way… thank you for warning me. Really," she acknowledged grudgingly. She cast a glance at the bird. "You want a brownie? I think there's still one or two left in the back." Fawkes shook his head and she shrugged. "Okay, I offered."

The van was silent again except for the puttering of the engine. Looking to fill the silence, May - she hadn't decided whether or not to stick with that identity, but it was as good as any other at the moment - fiddled with the radio. The sound of guitars and drums filled the vehicle, and Fawkes looked up as she laughed, turning up the volume and singing along with the four young men on the radio.

"I don't want to kiss or hold your hand… If it's funny try and understand!" she sang along, dancing a little in her seat, "There is really nothing I would rather do, 'Cos I'm happy just to dance with you!" Fawkes squawked in protest; of all the traits she'd inherited, the ability to sing was not one. Not that she cared. "It's my van, I'll sing if I want! I don't need to hug or hold you tight-"

Having had enough, the phoenix leaped into the air and disappeared into a quick flash of fire. May smirked, turning down the radio. "Finally. Albus isn't the only one who can't take a hint."

Ahead, the road to San Francisco stretched on.