Every time you violate the Harry Potter copyright J. K. Rowling eats a kitten.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

After Neville left I finished off my toast and sat back, sipping tea and watching the people in Diagon Alley. I kept an eye out for Jezebel Rosier, but mainly my attention was on witches and wizards going about their business. I saw far fewer kids than in my previous visits, which made sense. And the bright robes and heavy cloaks were starting to look normal to me. I'd worn my new hunter green cloak over buff and tan clothes today. A big warm cloak is a great comfort on a Fall day in Britain.

Honestly, that was the part about The One Hundred that really bothered me. They threatened that growing sense of normal, that comfort. They wanted me out of the Wizarding World. I liked Hogwarts, I liked my new world. I intended to stay.

It reminded me of my mother. She'd taught me to believe in magic. I'd believed until I'd gone to high school and discovered adolescent cynicism.

''Professor Hunter?''

I sloshed tea over my hand. Luckily it was cool, but so much for keeping an eye out.

I pushed my chair back and stood to greet Jezebel Rosier. Today she had her red hair pulled back into a tight bun. She wore teal robes with purple trim, and had a heavy green cloak folded over one arm. If it weren't for Galilea I'd be very happy to have tea with this woman. Well, that and the whole Muggle-hating terrorist business.

''I'm sorry, Miss Rosier. I didn't see you there. I tend to drift away when I'm thinking.'' I finished drying my hand and held it out for her to shake. ''Let me take that... '' I draped her cloak and purse over the back of a spare chair.

We sat across the table from one another. I prepared myself for a battle of wits, fought over a terrain of flowery centrepieces and lace place-cloths.

Jezebel fired her first shot in the war. ''You were lost in pleasant thoughts, I hope?''

''I was thinking about my family. My mother and her ancestors. I'd like to track down a little more information about my great-grandmother. I have her birth name, but that's about it. I know more about her husband, Mungan Puttock.''

A girl in dark blue robes took Jezebel's order for tea. When the girl left Jezebel turned back to me. ''The pastries here are wonderful, but I only just ate. The baker is a Squib who studied in a Muggle school. Whatever she does in the kitchen, it's amazing.''

''I want to get a flat on Diagon Alley. I won't pretend the bread here isn't part of that.''

Jezebel looked around the front of the little tea shop. ''Yes. It would be almost worth the rent, wouldn't it?''

Did terrorists spend a lot of time in tea shops? The conversation was off to a downright pleasant start. Well, give it a few minutes.

''Have you heard the phrase 'Blood-hound', Professor Hunter?''

''No. But I'm guessing it has nothing to do with dogs. And I know your people say 'blood' when you're talking about genealogy''

''A Blood-hound is a wizard or witch obsessed with tracking their ancestry. Always baying up the family tree, we say.''

''Genealogists are useful in my profession. Although they're usually pretty limited in scope.''

Jezebel's forehead creased briefly. ''I think you'll find Wizarding family trees even more limited. Most Blood-hounds are also Blood-purists. Whole branches of a tree will simply - ''

The girl brought Jezebel's order. Jezebel poured her tea and stirred in a bit of milk and sugar. I waited patiently. Rushing the British over their tea is a good way to get yourself killed.

''What do you know of your great-grandmother, Professor?''

''Not much. I dug out our family bible a couple of days ago and checked the family tree. Her married name name was Ginny Puttock, and she was born Virginia Black in a little village near Bristol. And that's it.''

''A village near Bristol? Was it close to the Channel, Professor?''

''Don't know. Why?'' 'Close' is a relative term. From a Canadian perspective Hogsmeade Village is close to London.

''Well, if Virginia Black were born in an unnamed little village in the West Country - ''

''I'm an idiot.'' I gave my head a shake at my own stupidity. ''Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt. But it was right there in Bagshot. Godric's Hollow, West Country. She was probably a Squib, wasn't she?''

Jezebel nodded. ''The Blacks were infamous for disowning Squibs. And quite a few Pureblood families use names from astronomy or mythology. Virginia, Virginis.''

That didn't really prove anything, but it suggested an obvious line of research. One more mental note.

Jezebel sipped her tea, then added a bit more tea to the cup. ''Entire branches of a family will vanish from family or Ministry records, if someone marries a Muggle or a Squib, or if there are too many Squibs born to certain parents. It still happens, even after Minister Shacklebolt's reforms. There is an entire Squib community in Wisbech, around Witches Abbey. They are almost wholly disconnected from their Wizarding relatives, but they can never fully leave the Wizarding World. They don't have the proper papers or education, you see. For the most part they work for the goblins, in one of the import or estate firms.''

''Are they paid in Galleons and Sickles?''

''Yes! Which they can't spend outside of Wizarding shops, and can't exchange at Muggle banks.''

This conversation was not going anywhere I'd expected. ''So if they do manage to get a bit of Muggle cash, or their school or some sort of training, I'm guessing they don't stick around.''

Shaking her head, Jezebel leaned forward on the table. ''Why would they? If they can get their papers, what does our world have to offer them? They leave, and they never look back. Unless one of their children or grandchildren is born a wizard.''

''Well, I guess I know where I got the Sight from.''

''I've heard Mud-bloods call it - '' She blushed and made a sour face. ''I apologize, Professor. Truly. The Blacks aren't the only family with a poor attitude regarding Muggle-borns. My parents still use that sort of language, but that doesn't mean it's acceptable.''

''Apology accepted. Do wizards and witches not call it the Sight?''

''No. I don't know that there's even a word for it. Witches and wizards can see spirits, or see through Muggle-Repelling Charms. Even Squibs have that to some degree.''

''Professor Burke tells me that some parents of Muggle-born students do as well. She handles most of the Charms-work that lets Muggle parents function in Diagon Alley, or at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. But not every Muggle parent needs to be Illuminated.''

Jezebel's eyes went a bit wide. ''That is fascinating. But how could they not be registered by the Hogwarts Quill?''

''I guess they can't use wands, like me. The Sight can't be the only non-wand talent out there either. Caretaker Svensen told me there used to be a student at Hogwarts who could change shape.''

''A Metamorphmagus. They're very rare.''

''I think that's what he called it. But he's got a Swedish accent a mile thick. Half the time I can't understand a word he says.''

Jezebel chuckled politely. ''Now Professor, I hate to rush but I do have appointments today. I asked to speak to you for a reason.''

Yes, and by then I was sure it wasn't the reason I'd thought. Jezebel continued. ''And I'm very interested to hear about your Squib ancestry. I work with a group involved in the struggle for the very soul of Wizarding Society, one concerned with the role of Squibs in our culture - ''

Okay. Now to the meat of the matter. Jezebel pulled some items from her purse.

She plunked the pamphlets and buttons down on the table. ''The Society for the Support of Squibs is an educational foundation. We support training programs and job-finding workshops for Squibs, and we'd like your help, Professor. The Oakby Centre needs skilled educators.''