Chapter 1

"It's magic!" – The exclamation had Brenda drop everything and whirl around on the look-out for real magic. But just a second later, the voice from before added, "Well, it's almost like real magic." It was just Margot, watching a video on a friend's smartphone with some of her co-workers. Brenda touched her forehead and closed her eyes briefly before she stooped down to gather up the painting utensils she'd dropped. Fortunately, the lid hadn't popped off the can of paint. She hated how she was still jumpy like this. She'd by now taught herself to mostly ignore cries of magic if uttered by children – everything was magic to them. But people would be surprised to know how often the term "magic" was being dragged into conversations – adult conversations. Brenda always started upon hearing it and couldn't help but take a look around… for real magic. She knew only too well that it existed. She was just waiting for a time when the muggles would stumble upon it, as well.

Brenda was working at a company that renovated houses according to the wishes of their owners. She did a variety of jobs and was leading her own team – working with her hands grounded her and using her brain took her mind off things. It was a good blend. But faux-magic-incidents always unsettled her – even after all of her 24 years. The timing was quite bad as well, as she would be leaving for her hometown soon anyway… she'd be confronted with enough magic during the preparations for her cousin's wedding which her mum had said she mustn't miss under any circumstances because what would everybody say. Brenda had answered, weren't they talking enough as it were and wouldn't they talk less if she just didn't show? To which her mum had said, no, they would talk more because they'd wonder whether she herself or her parents hadn't wanted her to come. So she had agreed to return to her hometown for a couple of weeks.

When Brenda thought back to her childhood – the time before she left for boarding school – she always felt annoyed. She hated how the past still held the power to stress her out, but denying the fact would've been kidding herself. She hated the period in her life starting when she realised there were other beings than wizards until leaving for school at eleven. Before the age of six or so, "people" had been "wizards" to Brenda. It was all she knew, growing up in Hogsmeade: the wizarding village close to the sizzling centre of wizarding youth. How should she have known that there was even the possibility of not having magic? It wasn't as if the Daily Prophet also covered muggle news. It mentioned muggles occasionally, but to Brenda, muggles was just another word for other people, such as Americans, for example. They were something far away. Brenda had been playing "Hogwarts" with her friends for years before realising that most of them were experiencing little bursts of magic now and then. But she didn't worry too much until she heard her parents talk behind closed doors about how none of them had been a "late-bloomer" and how atypical she was. That was when Brenda started worrying. The Hogwarts letter, the arrival of which she'd regarded as a sure thing (also because she hadn't known there was another option to getting a letter), suddenly instilled fear into her rather than anticipation. So close to Hogwarts locally, the children were privy to many a rumour and Brenda and her friends had started playing "Filch": Filch as he was trying to fly but fell off a building. Filch how he thought he had stopped time and embarrassed himself. Filch how he thought he'd magically unlocked a door only to find out it had been unlocked from somebody on the inside. Brenda hadn't known who "Filch" was back then, but the time came when she didn't enjoy these games anymore. Her eleventh birthday came in April. And then September came, but no mail arrived for Brenda Caun.

Brenda hurried down the stairs to the inn's dining room in a rush. It was quite full, she noticed, but having just arrived, she hadn't had a chance yet to take a look at the guest book. She always liked to know who was staying at the Rearing Unicorn while she was there, and as her wizard parents were writing everything down in an actual guest book, she didn't even have to worry about passwords or data protection. The room was filled with wooden tables, but it also sported a bar. The bar was open right now, as it was dinner time. "Mum, have you seen my smartphone?" Brenda asked her mother, who was tending the bar, in a hushed voice. But, as usual, the muggle-speak did wonders catching wizards' attentions. This time, at least, it was only the nearest table that had people turn around and start watching her. They were wearing matching robes. Brenda sighed briefly: Quidditch players. She was of the opinion they didn't know enough about physical education to be calling their job a "sport", but never mind. – "It's here, honey," Brenda's mum said. Knowing what her mother was about to do, Brenda just held out her hand as her phone came floating into it. She didn't even look at it, it was sure to arrive safely on her palm. Instead, she carefully turned to face the Quidditch players, who'd stopped their conversation in order to watch her interact with her phone. Brenda raised her eyebrows slightly, willing them to realise they were being impolite. But they didn't mind. Wizards harboured this childish awe for all things muggle while at the same time pitying their non-magic fellow humans. Also, they never did take the opportunity to visit a muggle store and learn about muggle technology. Brenda's eyes flicked from one player to the next, recognising some faces from Daily Prophet's sports articles. She seemed glued to the spot and was at the same time annoyed at herself. It wasn't like this was happening for the first time. But she wasn't used to it anymore, it seemed.

Finally, one of the players said, "You own one of those muggle communication things?" He had actually been sitting with his back to her which was why she could see the back of his robes as he was turned halfway in order to look at her and her "muggle communication thing". He had "Wood" printed on the back of his team jersey and Brenda's brain spent a millisecond trying to remember whether that was a position in a Quidditch game. Didn't some players beat balls with wooden bats..? Blinking once to focus her thoughts, Brenda answered almost automatically, "It's a smartphone. Yes. I own it." – They players were looking at her, but she was focused on the one who had spoken to her: he seemed to be quite handsome as far as she could tell. His eyes were flicking from her face to her phone, and Brenda knew he was going to ask why she had a phone. Did she have muggle relatives? Did she work in the muggle department of the ministry of magic? "She's got no magic, that one," Aunt Brigid chimed in even before he'd had the chance to ask. Brenda exhaled the breath she hadn't realised she was holding. She felt deflated and closed her eyes slowly. Opening them again, she threw her Aunt a sideways glance. She hadn't even heard her approach. Apparating wasn't possible inside the inn, but Brenda's attention had been focused elsewhere. It was her own fault, really. "Thanks, Auntie, for divulging that information." It wasn't like Brenda had been about to hide it. Not really. But she didn't just go about telling everyone. It wasn't something to be proud of, for starters, although she'd been trying to convince herself otherwise for most of her life. But also, it was dangerous.

As always, the revelation had shut the wizards up. It usually did. Squib. A word hardly said but often implied. Now they didn't know what to say. The wood-man was frowning slightly. Brenda started to turn around. "Yep, so, that's why I own a phone. Please, enjoy your meal." She managed to force her lips into a tight smile – always be friendly to guests – before heading back up the steps to her room. Since she'd fully moved out after finishing boarding school, her childhood bedroom had been transferred to one of the rooms, meaning it was technically a guest room. But Brenda didn't mind, her parents were never renting out "her room" and she liked to be able to get some space when she was staying. In the safety of her room, which was hexed with a variety of spells, also a muffling spell, she called Adrian. "Hi, I'm sorry I didn't call earlier. I arrived safely about an hour ago." – He chuckled at the other end of the line. "No worries, I thought you might be caught up in family business." – She sighed. "You can say that again. I can't believe my mum made me take that much time off work just for Alda's wedding." – "Well, at least it's almost all overtime. Didn't your boss threaten to delete your excess overtime hours if you didn't take some leave soon?" – Brenda sighed. "Yes. Yes, she did." – "You see: it's not so bad." – Brenda closed her eyes. "I'm not so sure. I don't know how I'm going to survive this."