.Chapter Twenty-Four: Some Ice Cream

"Madam Chairwoman!" Florean Fortescue greeted as we walked through the door. "And Charles Weasley, what a wonderful surprise!"

"Surprise?" Jessie asked, slipping her hands out of her greatcoat pockets and stretching them in a way that seemed to pop all four knuckles. "What's going on?"

"Ahem," a sort of sickly-sweet voice interrupted. "As I was saying-"

"But Madam Umbridge! I don't believe you've met Madam Tickes, the new Chairwoman of the Diagon Alley Chamber of Commerce." Mr. Fortescue seemed very interested in keeping the short, unpleasant-looking woman from getting a word in edgewise. "Madam Umbridge and this young lady from the Aurory have been holding a debate on shoppers' security." I was surprised that so many people had managed to cram into the small ice-cream parlor, but there were, indeed, about forty witches and wizards at the various little tables observing the proceedings. Nymphadora Tonks was clearly the audience favorite, if only because of her more impressive attire. She grinned at Jessie, who returned the look. The applause we had heard earlier suddenly made more sense.

Before Madam Umbridge could introduce herself to Jessie, though, Mr. Fortescue continued:

"Rather than keep the audience in the cold once it began to snow, I offered to host the proceedings in here. I don't suppose, given that the authority in question is largely …yours, you might care to moderate?"

Actually, strange as it sounds, this situation was far from uncommon. Florean Fortescue had hosted, according to Fred and George, something like two-thirds of the informal political debates over the past year and a half, which was only a slight increase from his old record. It was probably his hospitable, civic-minded nature, as London's meteorological climate could be almost as dreadful as its' political, though it could also have been the fact that interested spectators were by no means averse to buying ice cream cones if they came by on a cart and didn't interrupt the show.

I well remembered watching debates between Cornelius Fudge and his various opponents when my mother had brought us to get our school supplies –and I also fondly remembered the free cups of hot chocolate Mr. Fortescue had pressed on those children with the brains to take interest. 'Civic cocoa for those too young to vote,' he'd said. 'Best get used to this sort of thing.'

"I'd be delighted," Jessie replied. "Rather than go over it again, if each side would like to summarize their main points up to where you were when I came in, and then we can move forward." She pulled a Galleon from her pocket. "Heads or tails, Auror Tonks?"

"Ahem, if I may introduce myself, Madam-"

"Oh, we've met, Madam Umbridge. If you'd rather call the coin, you may." Jessie looked expectantly at the shorter woman, Galleon balanced on her thumb. Umbridge looked fairly gobsmacked, but managed to sputter out:

"We've met?"

"Heads… or… tails? It's to see who speaks first," Jessie explained, in roughly the same tone my mother uses when she 'explains' the need to do dishes or de-gnome the garden.

"Heads," Umbridge mumbled. Jessie flipped the Galleon onto the table in front of her.

"Heads it is. You were saying?"

All of a sudden, I remembered just who Dolores Umbridge was. Knowing how my brothers had reacted to her as an administrator, I could guess how she had met Jessie. I would have choked with laughter, had Mr. Fortescue not placed a vanilla swirl cone in my hand at that very second.

"I know. This should be quite the debate," he remarked in a whisper, pulling out a chair for me and taking the one beside. I sat down to watch the fun.

"The security of London's witches and wizards is the Ministry's first priority," Umbridge announced unctuously, still looking a bit confusedly at Jessie as if trying to place her. "We are considering several new laws which will protect citizens shopping in Diagon Alley as well as the rest of Great Britain. We wish, for example, to create a registry for all sales of Floo powder-"

"And its' components?" Jessie interjected.

"Ahem?"

"Any sixth-year with N.E.W.T. potions can make Floo powder. If you're going to keep track of everyone buying it ready-made, you're going to have to keep track of everyone buying the ingredients to mix up a batch at home." She pulled off her greatcoat and draped it over the back of a chair, which she then leaned on as if it were a short lectern. "It's like creating a registry of bread purchasers but ignoring everybody who buys flour. What's more, there's a very good reason why Floo powder comes ready-made. If you add just a hair too much of one part or heat it for just a touch too long, there's the risk of…well, suffice it to say, there's rather a lot more danger in making your own than in buying it ready-made. And while I'm sure the criminal elements have their share of decent potions-makers, the fact is that a criminal getting into the Alley isn't nearly as dangerous a proposition as a criminal trying to get into the Alley and blowing up half of it."

"Madam Tickes-"

"Oh, I'm not speaking against the proposed law," Jessie explained. "Just wondered how you plan on enforcing it."

"The Ministry is prepared to make several new policies for prosecuting such criminals. We would-"

"How?"

"Ahem?"

"I asked how would the Ministry prosecute such criminals? Also, what do you mean by such?"

"We intend to impose stiff penalties for criminal activity –such as purchasing Floo powder without providing proper identification for the new registry."

"But purchasing Floo powder isn't a crime right now. You're saying that the Ministry intends to make it a crime to purchase Floo powder without registering, and then to impose a stiff penalty if people don't comply with that new policy?"

"Yes! Exactly!"

"Which brings us back to my first question, how will you be enforcing that?"

"Well, the Ministry-"

"Madam Umbridge, does the Ministry keep statistics?"

"Of course."

"Specifically, sales tax records on such products as Floo powder?"

"Naturally. I don't see what this-"

"If you wouldn't mind looking it up sometime, I believe you'll find that the Ministry collects over fifteen thousand Galleons a year in Floo powder sales tax. That's just a rough estimate, of course, figures I read in the newspaper. Given that British sales tax is one percent, that would indicate that every year, shops sell over fifteen hundred thousand Galleons' worth of Floo powder. Assuming most shops are open six days a week, fifty-two weeks a year…you're looking at something like forty-eight thousand Galleons a day, just in Floo powder sales, all across Great Britain and the various Commonwealth tax districts."

"I am aware of the popularity of Floo powder," Umbridge almost growled.

"But you don't seem aware of the logistics that would be involved in creating a registry for such a popular product. Just to reimburse the shopkeepers for the cost of maintaining a registry book, you'd have to raise taxes. To compensate them for the time lost in checking identification, signing a book, doing a Verification spell...that's roughly eight extra minutes minimum on a two-minute transaction."

Jessie raised her hands and counted it out on her long fingers. "Two to ten, and that adds up over the course of a day. Shopkeepers won't be able to serve as many customers in the same amount of time, so business is going to go downhill. Plus there's the cost of the registry books themselves, which means either a sales tax increase or a price increase for the product in general. When business goes downhill and prices go uphill, we have a term for that. Recession."

"I wasn't suggesting-"

"Then, of course, there's the small matter of the fact that most Floo powder sold in Great Britain is a product of Israel and the passage of a sales tax increase, even to recoup registration costs, would be a violation of international trade agreements. I'm not certain about the Ministry, but I'm fairly sure the average British witch doesn't want to risk war with the Israeli government just on the off chance that a criminal might travel by Floo powder."

She seemed to think of something just then. "Actually, wouldn't you think the vast majority of criminals can probably Apparate? I know I haven't used Floo powder since I was a kid at Hogwarts, except when I had packages in my arms, and I'm pretty sure most of the Floo users are commuters and mothers with small children. So isn't it kind of like encouraging cricket-bat safety when the bad guys are all using swords?"

"That, actually, was my objection," Tonks interjected. It looked like she was trying very hard not to laugh.

"Oh. Well, point to the Aurory. I can't see the utility or feasibility of that law. What other proposals is the Ministry considering?"

Umbridge continued in a very smooth voice, despite looking a bit purple.

"The Ministry is considering a policy of increased security at commercial centers like Diagon Alley, specifically targeting shoplifters, vandals and street brawlers. We intend to-"

"Shoplifters!" Tonks cried, her hair flashing from pink to a violent orange. "Vandals? You-Know-Who is attacking people in the streets and you're worrying about shoplifters? You're fiddling while London burns, you mad harpy!"

"Auror Tonks, you are out of line!" Jessie announced coldly. "You will speak in turn, according to the rules of civilized debate or you will cede the floor to another speaker! I will not have incivility, even in this informal setting which Master Fortescue has so generously provided for the public use." She straightened her vest a bit. "Madam Umbridge, what sort of policy changes did you have in mind regarding petty crime in commercial centers?"

"The Ministry is prepared to increase the number of trained and certified Aurors-" Umbridge eyed Tonks maliciously, "assigned to commercial centers, to increase the fines and possible terms of imprisonment for shoplifting, vandalism and public brawls, and to authorize more serious force against any perpetrators of so-called petty crime."

"Excellent. Your rebuttal, Auror Tonks?"

"I don't think Aurors should be wasted on shoplifters. Don't we have more serious concerns as far as Alley security?" There was a murmur of approval from the crowd.

"I agree that there are more serious concerns, and you're very right to object to what appears on the surface to be a frivolous concern, Auror Tonks," Jessie replied diplomatically. "But allow me to clarify the purpose of Madam Umbridge's proposal. About how many people each year would you think try to steal something from my shop?"

"I don't know. Probably one or two a day?"

"Actually, the figure is much lower. More like one or two a month, and on those occasions the Sneakoscope usually registers a shade of violet associated with helpless kleptomaniacs. I actually know most of the people who are susceptible by sight. James W. Tickes and Sons hasn't had an actual theft in years –forty-seven years, to be exact." There was another murmur, this one impressed. "My family invested in an excellent security system, I'd be happy to give the name. Comparatively speaking, about how often would you say a Knockturn Alley shop, let's say, Nooke's Books and More, deals with shoplifters?"

"Probably about the same."

"Much more often, actually. I know Mary Nooke, actually, and her family's security system was installed by the same firm Tickes and Sons uses. And yet, Nooke's Books and More gets roughly twenty times the number of shoplifters. It isn't because their products are worth less –a very modest watch costs about the same as one of their mid-shelf books, I'm told. And it isn't because their shop looks less respectable. Apollo Nooke goes to considerable pains to keep his store clean, well lit and nicely appointed. I've often been jealous of his window displays, myself."

That got a murmur of incredulity. Suffice it to say, it was the 'and More' that made Nooke's Books perhaps a little scandalous for a woman of Jessie's age and position to be discussing.

"The reason why Apollo and Mary Nooke deal with more shoplifters –and, indeed, are injured by one or two every year, is because their shop is in Knockturn Alley. The Aurors in Diagon have time to pick up a shoplifter, take him to the precinct and fill out all the paperwork. This task, incidentally, takes about two hours, which is nothing when an Auror is working the Diagon Alley beat. A shoplifter is big news in Diagon." The crowd seemed to agree with this. "In Knockturn Alley, though, an Auror can't waste two hours on a shoplifter. There are illicit poisons, dangerous products and more stolen goods than you'd care to think about. The Auror who gets stuck with the Knockturn beat is up to her arse in alligators, so as you can well imagine, a lot of rats go unpunished. People rob Knockturn Alley stores not because Knockturn Alley stores are easier to rob –but because it is much harder to get caught."

"Is that the poor Aurors' fault?" Tonks objected.

"Heavens, no! Far from it!" Jessie had a look of knowing concern on her face that I found quite becoming –a bit like Professor McGonagall frankly discussing the risks of Animagic with her N.E.W.T. students. "The Aurors in Knockturn are some of the best on the beat. They do more with less than I'd be willing to believe, if I hadn't seen their good work through my own glasses. The problem is that the process works against them. They have to catch at least X many criminals in a given week, and they've got directives of problems X, Y and Z to specifically 'crack down' on. With the average turn-around time on an arrest being two hours, you can bet they're going to make the most of the time they've got and go after the big crimes like X, poison, and Y, dangerous illegals, even if it means letting people go for little things like Z, shoplifting."

She had the crowd completely captivated. Of course, it looked like a goodly many of them were shopkeepers, so it stood to reason. "Now, what Madam Umbridge is proposing, this seemingly unimportant crackdown on petty crime, is actually a revolution in the way Alleys deal with security. By reducing the paperwork and protocol necessary for an arrest, an Auror can catch easily five or six times the number of criminals. Yes, it will be for smaller crimes, but think of the possibilities! How many poisoners do you think probably got their start with a bit of five-finger discounting? How many hardened criminals would probably think nothing of scratching their names in a bathroom wall?

"Think back to when we were kids in school. The professor who only cracks down on the worst offenses has a lot of chattering and little piddly pranks going on. It's hardly order. But the hard-arsed bat who jumps down a kid's throat for so much as note-passing –his classroom's a showplace. What Madam Umbridge is proposing is a change in atmosphere very much along those lines. Criminals who always got away with shoplifting, with vandalism, with a little fight here and there, and who then moved on to bigger and worse things –all of a sudden, they can't get away with so much as nicking a Chocolate Frog. It's night and day.

"And worse yet for our criminals, it isn't a question of 'Down to the station and I'm let go wit' a fine, guv'nor, while you're still on me prints an' fings,'" Jessie did a fair imitation of Mundungus Fletcher's dialect that got a laugh from the crowd. "It's 'you're under arrest' and Tonks claps the cuffs on you, then links you up to the next pincher, then the next, and the next, and she only takes you in when she's got a full load of miscreants, all cuffed up like a daisy chain!" Jessie held her wrists together in mock imitation of a handcuffed criminal and grinned viciously. "If that means Mr. Shoplifter has to stand and wait, chained to a lamppost like a common thief while the crowd points and laughs –well, that's just what happens to shoplifters!"

The crowd loved it.

"So once Auror Tonks brings her line of pinchers and vandals into the station, clink! More bad luck for them! Ministry's changed the paperwork so Aurors can run prints in only a few minutes. If you're caught shoplifting and there's a warrant out on you for poisoning –oopsie, you're going to go down for both. You're wanted in Scotland for coining and get caught in a London barfight –looks like the stir for you! The way it is now, if you keep the small rules, you can break the big ones pretty easily. With Madam Umbridge's proposed change in law, breaking the small rules means they not only hit you with the book, they break it over your head. The big rules suddenly go without saying. Who's going to try and move a bit of poison when the Aurors are chaining people up like stray Crups for shoplifting? Who's going to try and beat on a shopkeeper when a simple street brawl means prison time?

"Madam Umbridge has proposed and Auror Tonks is prepared to execute a sea-change in Alley security! The sheer loss of shrinkage will lower prices inside of a month, which means greater tax revenue –more than enough for an Aurors' raise, and with the decrease in insurance costs, the drop in repair bills with vandalism all tidied up…well, it wouldn't surprise me if we saw a greater era of prosperity and expansion than ever before!

Jessie caught up the hands of Tonks, who looked very enthusiastic, and Umbridge, who still looked decidedly off-balance, and raised them together in front of her like a referee with the winning Chaser and Seeker.

"What a great time to have a shop, with these two women fixing things up so's I hardly have to say boo in the Chamber. What a brilliant plan! Aren't we all for it?"

The crowd's reaction was, to put it lightly, uproarious. They applauded, stood and clapped Tonks, Jessie and even Umbridge on the back. Everyone had questions, but instead of asking the debaters, they were asking Jessie, and she fielded them like her brother in a pile of Quidditch reporters –gracefully and with such good cheer you simply couldn't help liking her.

"That wasn't a debate," I observed to Mr. Fortescue. "It's 'watch-Jessie-fix-everything.'"

"Yes, of course," he replied. "Precisely why I brought her in. I don't need that fat little toad scrapping with that poor pink-haired lady; I need order and customers with a little bit of hope to celebrate. Your girlfriend seems to supply a great deal of compromise and inspire rather a lot of hope, so I involve her whenever possible. That's why Abby and I picked her for the Chair."

"That's why –you?"

"Oh, yes. Abby Flourish and I picked out Jamesina to take over Diagon when she was nine years old. We had such a scrap with old Myron about it, for years we wore on him, but eventually he saw she would do well enough with the shop and let us go ahead with the nomination. It's funny she flipped a coin just now, that's how we decided which of us would put her name forward. Abby won, of course, she cheats, and I was going to second, but your brothers managed to beat me to the privilege."

"Wait…you knew? You wanted her to be Chairperson?"

"I've wanted a competent Chair for years and Abby and my wife have wanted a woman for just as long. We had actually planned to put her mother forward back in Seventy-eight, but then…" He trailed off and I nodded knowingly. "Well, the kitten's often as good a mouser as its' mum, so I guess our little junta will have the desired effect."

"You've taken over the Alley."

"Yes, and with your girlfriend. I do apologize."

"You might have told her, you know."

"Oh, heavens no!" Florean gave me a sneaky look. "That's the point of the thing. If we let the poor girl know we were grooming her for office, she might've taken it into her head that there was some sort of privilege involved, or that power was something desirable. As it is, she considers it her duty, much the way it's our duty to brush our teeth, clean the catbox or sweep the steps –which is to say, rarely fun and often quite disagreeable. The whole point of picking our favorite was to have someone who really doesn't want the office on her own, but who will do a damned good job in it once it's thrust on her."

"So you want a politician without ambitions?"

"Oxymoronic as it is, that was just what we had in mind. And it seems to be going well. As far as I know, Jamesina has only ever had two ambitions in her life, one of which the grapevine says she is about to fulfill and another of which she fulfilled not too long ago."

"Owning the shop and sitting her masterpiece?"

"Yes." The ice-cream man had a sort of wistful look. "A true Diagon Alley girl. James Tickes couldn't ask for a better daughter –and to be sure, he doesn't deserve most of the credit for what he has."

"I don't understand what goes on between the two of them. I've only seen them together once…it was like they weren't even friends, let alone relatives."

"It's one of the saddest stories in the Alley," Florean explained, "but one of the least often told, fortunately." He looked at the crowd in his ice-cream shop, almost all of whom were crowding around Jessie, Tonks and Umbridge still. "Come. If they ask, we're discussing flavors of wedding cake."

I stopped cold and looked at Mr. Fortescue. "For your brother, of course. Have that look on your face and they'll believe what they want."

We headed into a crisply clean kitchen, bigger than I would have thought and full of delicious smells. Mr. Fortescue opened a large freezer and took out a platter with slices of different ice-cream cake, before retrieving two forks. "Come now, Charles, have some alibi. The brown there is caramel."

"Why an alibi?"

"Because I have the strong suspicion that if Jamesina hasn't explained what goes on in her family, she doesn't intend to –and old meddler that I am, I think you probably should know."

"It must be pretty awful, then."

"Yes, one could probably say so." Mr. Fortescue had that wistful look again. "When I first knew Jamie Tickes, he was very much like his daughter. Not so bold, of course, and with a certain preoccupation where business was concerned. Jamesina has proved more talented with the books, so she has more time for a proper life, I'd imagine."

"Is that how come she's done so well for herself?"

"Actually, I have the strong suspicion that her accounting prowess is but a drop in the bucket of young Madam Tickes' financial achievement. The Tickes family has always made products of superior quality, repaired them at reasonable –actually, some say that their low repair prices make their watches a better value than any foreign competitor.

"Moreover, they have the admirable quality of being excellent neighbors, business-wise. It was a loan from Jamesina Tickes the third that helped rebuild my parlor after You-Know-Who came to power last, and it was her forgiveness of interest in hardship that allowed no less than twenty businesses to recover and prosper in the post-war years –my own among them." Mr. Fortescue smiled gently. "Young Jamesina, in addition to being a gifted clocksmith, carries a very beloved name –and with it, the burden of some very serious expectations. In a way, it's almost better that James Tickes…but I'm getting ahead of myself."

I took another bite of 'alibi' and had to interrupt Mr. Fortescue to praise it.

"Actually, it's a bit of 'relevant,' rather than 'alibi' that you just tasted," he explained. "It was at my own parlor that Siobhan McArran came to work summers; being the Muggle-born daughter of a jeweler and a pastry chef, she took quickly to working, independence and the most delicious apple-pie ice cream cake ever served in England. I would call the dish by her name on the menu, if not for the tears it would bring, now that she's no longer with us."

"I heard…You-Know-Who."

"You heard correctly," Mr. Fortescue sighed. "But again, we're biting the cone with the cherry still on. It was a lovely summer day, for one so unseemly hot, and Siobhan had just emerged from the kitchen with her latest invention, that apple-pie ice cream cake I mentioned. She was already overwarm from the day and the complete failure of climate-controlling spells –in those days, we used to take turns standing in the walk-in to cool off when the place got hot. She didn't take her turn, however, just stood at the counter watching one of the little debates I like to host as it got closer to out of hand. It wasn't anything very serious, just Hogwarts students having a pointy with a bit of an audience, but things were heating up quickly.

"Now, as you can well imagine, Charles, I was and still am perfectly capable of winding up a civil matter before it becomes, shall we say, uncivil. As a matter of fact, I was in the very act of whipping up two knickerbocker glories for the combatants in the hopes of providing a distraction. But before I could so much as peel the bananas, Siobhan had gone over in her apron and the little white hat our girls always wore back then, and started to ask some…well, some very bad questions."

"How do you mean?"

"Oh, she sailed in and poked holes in their arguments, cool as you please, and in ways nobody'd considered until she began poking. In the space of three minutes, she reduced a proposed product ban to moral posturing –which it was, a suggestion of decency legislation to an economic misstep on the level of –well, Jamesina's skewering of Madam Umbridge on Floo powder had most of the same pins and needles in –and then, of course, she proceeded to turn on the liberal opposition and make Jamie Tickes look like a blowhard opportunist."

"So she argued with Jessie's dad?"

"Oh, she skewered him! She rooked them both! She made Gertie Macnair look like the worst prude since Victoria and then she made Jamie look like a mindless little boy who just wanted to argue with anything! I haven't seen a debate come crashing down like that…well…until today, actually."

Mr. Fortescue sighed sadly. You'd think I'd be used to the way people speak of friends they lost, what with the Order and all, but even after all these years, it's hard for me to watch.

"Miss Macnair was, naturally, furious, and when her cousin Marius had the nerve to applaud Siobhan, well, there was a good deal of sniffing and 'I never!' and the sort of nonsense you'd expect from the Slytherins. The Gryffindor boys there, all five of them, cheered for Siobhan, who was, after all, one of their own, Muggle-born or no." Gryffindor? "And Jamie Tickes' Ravenclaw Business Lads actually started applauding too, after just a brief moment to process that their President had just been bested by a scoop-wielding girl in a paper hat.

"For a moment, I worried that Jamie was about to act a young arse and not congratulate Siobhan for proving his motive wrong. But he just stood there for a few moments, looking right at her as she was thumped on the back by her Gryffindors and had her hand shaken by some startled, but gentleman Ravenclaws. It was like a starving man seeing his first triple banana split on the hottest day of summer.

"'Miss McArran,' Jamie finally spoke up, catching her hand in his, 'I have never enjoyed being wrong so much.'

"I was sure that Siobhan was about to make some sort of arched-eyebrow crack –after all, she was remarkably good at it and tended to be a bit…well, defensive, the way some Muggle-borns get after a few years of school. But she just stood there and looked at Jamie, then at her hand in his, and gave him this soft smile.

"'Your argument was after bein' the only thing I found wrong,' she said, in that soft Irish voice of hers. 'I'd be willin' to give y' another look.'

"'After work sometime?' Jamie asked, a little too quickly, given that his mates were all around him. That Macnair and her friends let out little gasps of shock that a Tickes would ask out a hired assistant, a Muggle-born and Irish, to boot –you see, the sort of people who think pure blood counts for toffee often tend to look the other way regarding certain wealthy business scions' Muggle-born grandmothers. If the family coffers are deep enough, they consider your name close enough to the 'toujours pur' standard –maybe not enough to date, say, a Malfoy, but a Parkinson or a Goyle wouldn't say no to Jamie Tickes. I was pretty sure at least one of the Slytherin girls had her cap set for a wealthy watchmaker –if not for a mate, than at least for an alimony cheque. There was also rather more prejudice against the Irish in those days, and particularly against Irish Muggle-borns. With the Troubles, rather a lot of children came to Hogwarts that might have gone elsewhere, and there was some feeling among the old-name families that the 'little micks' were snapping up scholarships -all very whispery, of course, lest someone realize the old-names had run out of old money. Moreover, to that sort of narrow-mind, owning one's shop implies respectability, whereas working for someone else means servility. They treated Siobhie like a house-elf whenever they thought my back was turned. And here Jamie had asked her out!

"I am, of course, a stubborn old meddler, so I had no moral qualm whatsoever of going over and calmly informing Siobhan that she had forgotten to take her past three nights off since her promotion to management, and would she mind skipping overtime this evening, as things were so slow? It was just the ghost of a lie –I had wanted to promote Siobhan and was waiting for the moment of maximum impact…and she had, actually, failed to take a night off in weeks. She always claimed she had to work late when a gentleman in whom she lacked interest asked her out –which was partly why, I think, she did so very well at work. She gave me a look of abject terror and a bit of pique before turning back to Jamie with a bit of a shrug and asking if he wanted to go see the Kestrels play Ballycastle.

"Oh, yes. Ian the fifth gets his Quidditch talent from his mother. After her parents' divorce, Siobhan's tuition got a bit pinched by their solicitors' bills, but she earned herself a fine Seeker scholarship and was thinking of training up as a referee if she didn't make it into Auror training. Jamie Tickes had a fear of heights until she got ahold of him…but then he actually got up the leather to propose on a broom in front of the big Hogwarts clock, so I suppose it was all for the best."

"Did they marry young?"

"Well, in those days, we didn't think them so very young. They were engaged nearly four years altogether, and I believe it was the week after Siobhie's twenty-third birthday that they finally tied the knot –after the year-and-a-day, of course."

"Year and a day?"

"Siobhan's parents had been through a nasty split, so of course she had a few issues regarding whether it was such a brilliant idea to marry at all, even a young man she so dearly loved. But there's an old Irish custom, still practiced by some wizards, which lets a couple marry first for a year and a day, after which either party can end it, or else they can make the thing permanent. Then, of course, there are three years during which either party can, under Brehon law, break it off." Mr. Fortescue smiled. "It was on the last day of the three years that their boy Ian was born. I think it was almost another six before Jamesina…there was some sort of trouble, I think, else they'd likely have had many more children. And then, of course, when Jamesina was two, the troubles began again and Siobhan was killed with her mother-in-law at the Diagon Alley shop."

"Why?"

"Who on the earth can say? Either way, Jamie went raving mad."

"I can imagine he'd be upset."

"Upset? No, this was flat-out, sleeves and straps, lock-you-in-the-bughouse mad. There's a streak of madness in just about any old family –mine involves chocolate. The Tickes have a bad time handling grief, to the point that it was only by the grace of Jamesina the fourth, who had been born a Switch, holding everyone together when Myron's elder brother James was killed."

"Whatever happened to Jessie's grandmother? I hear so much about her great-grandmother; almost nothing about her Gran."

"She didn't suffer a sudden death. It was a slow cancer, mercifully free of pain and with plenty of time for everyone to finish grieving and celebrate her life while she had the tail end of it. It was hard on Jamie, of course, but Gardner was much younger and handled it fairly well –likely a blessing from the Switch side. Anyway, Jamie was mad, so mad they had to put him in hospital for a year or two to keep him from hurting himself or others."

"Does Jessie know?"

"By the time he was anything close to himself again –and the man you've met is not the Jamie Tickes any of us recall, he made them swear not to tell Ian or Jamesina. Between school, being a toddler and good excuses, Myron and Gardner managed to keep it from the children. I daresay Ian may have figured it out by now, but then, he had his own pain to deal with and I'd be surprised if he forgave his father. Jamesina never did."

"What do you mean? Jessie'd never-"

"Jamesina grew up with a collection of stories for a mother and a man who could scarcely look at her for a father. She seems to have assumed it was somehow her fault he disconnected so utterly, and when he finally did come back a little –only after one of Siobhan's students essentially dragged him back to life, Jamesina saw it as her chance to know the father from stories. Instead, he remarried and had twin boys less than six months later. He isn't much closer to them, but they still have a mum when Jamesina doesn't. I think it was hardest on poor Sarah."

"Sarah?"

"Oh, yes. Sarah Whipkey Tickes. It stands to reason Jamesina wouldn't mention her stepmother. Sarah studied under Siobhan and Jamesina the elder; seeming to be a shop apprentice when in fact she was learning from two of the greatest female Aurors in the history of Great Britain. She's significantly younger than James, and though most of her motivation for bringing him back seems to have been the sense that her friend would have been very put out with how her children grew up…well…Jamesina had stories. She didn't need any stepmother; she probably just wanted her father back. So the more Sarah tries, the less James' older children keep in touch, and it's only for the pleading of Gardner, the bullying of Myron and the family rules of meeting for business that the Tickes children see their father at all these days.

"Like I said, one of Diagon's saddest stories."

"But…" I couldn't think what to say. "How could she not realize why her father is how he is? How could she just cut off her stepmother?"

"Oh, she hasn't cut her off entirely. Jamesina considers Sarah a fine colleague where Mediwizardry and, to a lesser extent, Potions are concerned. They do write, and while Jamesina rarely mentions anything non-work besides 'oh, got elected,' or 'bought a new owl,' my wife tells me that Sarah cherishes each letter and talks incessantly of them, impersonal as they are. And I think she's slowly coming to the realization that James is not and probably never will be the man she heard stories of all her life."

"She's preparing to buy him out so he doesn't move the shop to America."

"Well, yes. She also has the confounded stubbornness of both her mother and great-grandmother. In fact, I think that stubbornness would have saved them both, had they not been so mortally outnumbered. I'd be willing to trust my nephew to very few shopkeepers in Diagon if something were to happen to my wife and I, but Jamesina Tickes heads the list. She isn't a bad person by any means…it's just that she and her family have some bad blood that needs to be worked out, and it's quite likely I'm the only way you'd ever get the story from an unbiased source."

"Unbiased?"

"Well, apart from thinking Jamie a right pillock for going off the deep end like that, Myron an old fool for not doing more to stop him and Jamesina perhaps a bit better at understanding the works of a clock than a person…yes, I suppose I'm fairly unbiased."

"My family's so different from hers."

"Aye. And she was friends with your brothers first. Probably quite a bit of time she's spent with her hands on the window, wondering what it'd feel like to be part of a clan like that. You'll have to help her learn that such families have a lot more trust in them than the one she's known –but from the tales of her cooking for six people, I'd say she has the affection down."

"But why tell me?" I asked.

"Because," Mr. Fortescue's wistful look had a bit of hopefulness in it. "You look at her the way Siobhan looked at James. Now that you've seen what's wrong, any chance you'd give her another look?"

I took a last bite of apple-pie ice cream relevance.

"I think it's time I got her on a broom by the Hogwarts clock, actually."

"You know it'll be an uphill fight? A long engagement, if she agrees at all, probably a year-and-a-day as well?"

"After my brother's wedding, I think we could all use a rest anyway." Mr. Fortescue was smiling now.

"I've been matchmaking the young people of Diagon for nearly ninety years," he remarked. "If I can just see Siobhan's little girl happy, I think I can consider retirement."

"Well, after ninety years, I'd hope you can give a fellow some good advice!"

"Oh, I had plenty of good advice thirty years ago. Ask your Da if he remembers it!"

We were laughing when a very tired, very hungry-looking Jessie walked in.

"Remind me again, why'd I accept that nomination?" She stretched a little and Mr. Fortescue handed her a plate of apple-pie ice cream cake. "Oh, right. You promised me treats as the Chairperson!" She nibbled happily and I exchanged a significant glance with Mr. Fortescue. She probably didn't even know her mother'd invented it. "This recipe is so good…oh, and I got Tonks and Umbridge to agree, so I've fully deserved this cake."

"That y' have," Mr. Fortescue observed, patting her shoulder from behind as he pulled out a chair for her. "That y'have."

A/N: In response to reader inquiries, the pronunciation of Jessie's mother's name is 'SHAW-van Mac-AIR-an' and the nickname Fortescue uses is said 'SHAW-vie.' The Troubles, of course, refer to the civil unrest in Ireland during the twentieth century (try Google,) and Brehon law was the legal system in Ireland for several centuries, particularly the fifth century CE, though it is, to put it mildly, no longer used. It can be inferred, however, that some Irish witches and wizards still have the tendency to consider Brehon precedents valid, just as British wizards cling to concepts from West Saxon common law. Brehon law emphasized reparation and rehabilitation over punishment, employed the concept of an 'honor price' payable for insulting or harming a person (the price was commeasurate with the injured party's rank,) forbore capital punishment except in particularly extreme circumstances, and considered women coequal with men in almost every way. Only inheritance had different rules for females and males, the rule being that women could inherit, but that they must then pass on the property within the original family, i.e. to a nephew rather than a son. The rules regarding temporary marriage for a year and a day, as well as the no-fault, at-will, alimony-free dissolvability of marriages within the first three years are as described in the narrative.

What this background information implies re: certain characters, I will leave to the readers' interpretation. .