Chapter 2
The next morning, Brenda rose early in order to help her mother with breakfast. As she entered the kitchen, her mum frowned at her. "You didn't come down for dinner last night." – Brenda helped herself to some coffee. "I was just tired, Mum." – Her mother was avoiding her eyes. "I'm sorry about Aunt Brigid." – Brenda shrugged. "It is the truth, after all." – "Yes, but I've been telling her to not…" she didn't finish the sentence. Brenda raised an eyebrow at her. "…talk about me perhaps?" – Her mother huffed. "That's not what I meant." But she didn't offer another explanation, either.
The fact of the matter was, Brenda's mum didn't really need help preparing breakfast. Magic did it all for her, and what wasn't done by magic was done by Milly, the house-elf. But her mother needed to rise in order to kick-start the magic breakfast and she liked company in the early mornings. And as Brenda was used to early starts from her work, she didn't mind sticking to her rhythm even during her stay with her parents. When it was time to plate everything up for the breakfast buffet, Brenda took two bread baskets and carried them through to the dining room. She could feel her mother's eyes burning into the back of her head as all the other breakfast items overtook her and placed themselves on the buffet table, leaving two precise gaps for the bread baskets. Brenda sighed. "That's a lot of breakfast, Mum," she called in the direction of the kitchen, trying to strike up a casual conversation. Her mother laughed. "Yes. But with all these Quidditch players staying with us… I don't want them to go hungry." – Frowning, Brenda reached for the guest book behind the bar. There it was: an entry for "Puddlemere United, first and second teams, fourteen rooms". The team name even rang a bell. They had to be quite successful, then. "Why are they even staying here, Mum? Isn't it mid-season?" It was May, after all. – "Their stadium is being rebuilt. It's taking longer than supposed, so they've rented the… the school's Quidditch pitch. They might even play some matches there. The students are all very excited." – "Right," Brenda put the guest book back and went to check on the coffee on the buffet table. Yes, yes, magic technically did that, kept it warm and such, but Brenda always felt that purely magically brewed coffee didn't taste as good. To her, making coffee was step one of enjoying it.
Suddenly, somebody entered the dining room – yet not from upstairs where the guest rooms were, but from the outside. It was a rare occurrence that somebody came to the Rearing Unicorn just for breakfast (it was nothing special, your plain old breakfast as good as ordinary magic could make it), so Brenda turned. And cocked her head. If she wasn't mistaken, it was the player from last night. He was carrying his broom, but instead of soiled team wear, he was wearing jeans that were riding low on his hips and a black turtle-neck sweater. He stopped when he saw her, not knowing what to say. Nothing out of the ordinary there. Brenda inhaled deeply and put on a smile. "Good morning, Mr…?" – He hesitated for a second. Was he famous enough he expected her to know who he was? – "Um, Wood. Oliver Wood." Obviously Wood was his name and not his position in the game. Brenda felt slightly stupid. They shook hands. – "My name is Brenda Caun. Coming in from an early practice, Mr. Wood?" Brenda prattled on. Prattling was trick number one in dealing with Squib-struck wizards. "Why don't you have some breakfast?" She pointed to the picture-perfect buffet. He nodded, seemingly still dumb-struck. But he had his broom fly off back to his room and took a seat at the table the team had occupied the night before. "Would you like some coffee? With milk?" Her voice was still disgustingly friendly, a smile plastered to her face. – "Yes, please. Coffee with a little milk." – Brenda walked over to the buffet table and poured a cup of coffee, imagining she was adding a human touch to the magically brewed beverage as she added a dash of milk. As she was carrying it back to Oliver Wood, she tried not to look into his eyes which were following her. When she finally did look at him, he looked positively distraught. Finally, he ventured to say, "I, um… I can just… you don't have to…" His right hand twitched slightly and Brenda knew he meant he could summon magically anything he needed. When she placed the cup before him he looked at her as if he'd never been served at restaurant before. Which he probably hadn't. Only by magic, of course. "I don't mind walking, Mr. Wood. I like to be of service in any way I can. This is my family's inn." – He nodded slowly. Brenda didn't tell him that this was an absolute exception. She usually didn't serve guests. Not because she didn't want to help out, but firstly, her help wasn't needed. And secondly… Mr. Wood was still in the baffled-phase. He couldn't quite wrap his head around how a squib could… happen in such a magical environment and how she could just live in a magical world without being able to use magic. Brenda was usually the first squib they met. But slowly their true stance would shine through. If she started serving wizards at the inn, the progression from dumb-struck to condescending would just happen faster. There were steps on the landing now, so Brenda smiled at him one last time and returned to the kitchen.
"So this is the venue," Alda beamed. Actually, it was just the Hogsmeade multi-purpose hall where every local married, but everybody ah-ed and oh-ed nonetheless. "Obviously, we want to decorate it. And rearrange it a little." As Alda began to explain her vision, Brenda was very surprised to find she liked it. She could even picture it very well, perhaps due to her experience in her job of finishing or renovating houses according to their owner's wishes. It wasn't enough to simply do what they said, you had to do what they meant. Brenda knew what Alda meant. "Let's give it a quick go," Aunt Brigid, Alda's mother, suggested. "Just a quick play, we can always revert it back if we don't like it!" Alda was keen, so she and Aunt Brigid joined hands and the room started to transform. Brenda – who was part of the group of 20 or so who were being shown the venue – watched the walls change colour and gain in height. Also, the floor turned from wooden to tiled to another, darker kind of wood again. It wasn't too bad, but it also wasn't what Alda wanted. Brenda knew that before she'd even looked into Alda's dismayed face. Aunt Brigid patted her shoulder. "We'll figure it out, honey. We've got almost four weeks left, after all." – Alda didn't seem appeased in the least. In fact, she looked quite panicked. "But I don't understand: it's just how I pictured it, but somehow, it's not what I…" she hesitated. – "…what you meant," Brenda finished the sentence without thinking. She immediately regretted it, as the whole party was suddenly staring at her. As if they'd forgotten she'd come along (which they hadn't, she was always at the backs of their minds). "Yes," Alda slowly said. "I pictured it like this, but now that I see it… I realise it's not what I meant. The feeling of the room isn't right." – Brenda nodded slowly. "I thought as much," she ventured to say very quietly. Even her own albeit extended family was treading on eggshells around her. Well, they could've cast her out so she was supposed to be happy it was just that. Some wizarding families did that to squibs. Alda was frowning. "How do you know about this?" – Brenda half-smiled, lifting one corner of her mouth. "It's kind of my job. You know, my muggle job?" – Alda started as if the word "muggle" had burned her. She seemed to consider something. "Well perhaps… you know, we should meet up. Perhaps you can help me envision what I actually want?" – Brenda raised her eyebrows. It did sound as if Alda was taking her and her job seriously. That was a first. A worker that could be replaced by magic was usually a laughing stock to them. "Okay," she agreed carefully.
Back at the inn, Brenda carried her sketch book down to an empty table of the dining room. She was just okay at drawing, but sometimes it helped the customers realise what they wanted if she sketched what she thought they liked. In fact, the sketches didn't need to be very good to achieve that and sometimes she did them on a tablet-pc. It was easier with software helping her. But today, Brenda didn't want to draw any more attention to her by using another electric device. She would've sketched in her room, but as a remodelled guest room, it didn't feature a desk. Additionally, there was of course no wifi at all in all of Hogsmeade. Brenda leafed through her sketches. None of them looked remotely like a wedding venue, she would have to start fresh. And this time, the visuals would actually have to be good, as she wouldn't be doing the remodelling herself with her team. Alda had to know what it had to look like in order to use her magic for the transformation. As Brenda was working, she didn't notice how the dining room was filling up and was finally getting the air of a bar. Her mother had placed a plate of food next to her, which she'd eaten while working.
Finally, Brenda stretched. The Quidditch team was having a good night close by and the noise was getting too much. Brenda rose, deciding that she needed a short walk in order to clear her head and put the day behind her. She put her sketch book and drawing utensils on the bar her father was tending. "Dad, could you briefly charm my stuff up to my room? I just want to go for a walk really quickly before it's all dark outside." She noticed with a side-ways glance that the Quidditch-player from this morning was leaning on the wall on the other side of the staircase, close to where the other players were sitting. She was pretty sure he was listening in, although his gaze was fixed on his firewhiskey. Her dad didn't seem to have heard her, but Brenda didn't want to let her stuff lying about. It was too personal and also something wizards didn't understand. They didn't teach art at Hogwarts. She threw a brief glance out the window where the sun was setting rapidly. Sighing, she grabbed her stuff again, but as she turned to climb up the stairs, she almost collided with Oliver Wood. Despite the early start and the whole day of training he'd undoubtedly had, he still seemed quite awake. Especially close up. He'd rid himself of his robes and was wearing pretty much the same outfit as that morning. He quickly took a step back, almost too eager to not get into her personal space. She wondered if he thought she was an alien of some sort. Perhaps she should tell him that being a squib wasn't contagious. But then he reached out as if he wanted to carry her stuff for her. "May I?" he asked quietly. Brenda's thoughts were racing. If she told him she didn't mind walking like she had this morning, he'd know she was lying now as he'd obviously listened in. Also, his gaze was quite compelling. Slowly, Brenda let her arms fall to her sides, not in the least surprised as her sketch book and things were staying put in mid-air. "Just, um… just put it on top of the airing cupboard, if you don't mind? My room's kind of… locked. For magic," she felt the need to elaborate. His lips opened slightly as he nodded, almost as if he'd just understood something. When Brenda looked next, her things were already flying upstairs. Her gaze settled upon Oliver Wood once more. Despite his sport not being a real physical sport, he was quite muscular, as far as she could see.
Brenda said a brief thank you, then grabbed her coat from the back of her chair and headed out into the chilly spring evening. The air was clear and had that certain spring smell. She loved the changing of the seasons more than any single season individually. Brenda wasn't one for walking in her free-time, usually… She did all her walking at work. She only ever saw groups of people walking the streets of Hogsmeade rather than individual walkers. People on their own usually apparated immediately to the building they wanted to go to. It was only when they were in groups they sometimes took the time to walk. But then it wasn't about walking but about spending time with friends. Brenda always thought it felt special to go for a walk by yourself, especially in the countryside. In town, it could turn scary quite quickly. To Brenda, it was even more scary no matter where she was, because she knew. She knew how scary the world really was. She knew there were beings she couldn't put up a fight against, no matter how hard she tried. And she had no way of telling who was one. And afterwards, she might not even remember. She was basically at their mercy. Most humans… most muggles didn't know about the possible danger. Some did self-defence training that might work to some degree against other muggles, but never against wizards. Wizards could be overpowered, of course, if you caught them by surprise. Their magic wasn't automatic, they needed to practise and know spells to direct it. But once they'd gone through Hogwarts, almost all were able to do that. Even without using their wands or actually pronouncing the spell. It was so unfair it made Brenda sick just thinking about it. She missed her flat in town and Adrian and her other friends. Her muggle friends. They helped her forget, if just for a little while.