With a Hufflepuff in the house, the season of goodwill never ended and yet it began anew every December with a terrible vengeance. The tree was a given, sure. But the twelve thousand lights and the festive throws? It was a wonder they could still see the furniture. Or anything at all.

Aidan was fretting. He tried to hide it beneath a flurry of housework but Garrett could plainly tell he was fretting. In fact, it was the housework that gave him away. Garrett watched from the kitchen as his husband dashed between the living room and the breakfast nook, straightening up decorations as he went. Sitting in a glass bowl were glittering baubles on a bed of enchanted snow; he shifted the bowl one inch to the left. Then back again. All the while, Garrett privately admired the colour in Aidan's cheeks but also contemplated slipping him a calming draught.

"You know if you keep that up, Tup is going to get upset."

The poor house-elf was likely already upset. Aidan had apparently decided it was his job to ensure the house was in proper order to receive guests and that wouldn't go over well at all. A wizard really ought to know better; the running of a household was elf business.

"Well, what do you expect?" Aidan asked, flustered. "It's not every day Albus Dumbledore invites himself over for tea."

"Just tea? Did you forget the biscuits?"

Aidan went pale. "Oh, dear Lord."

"Relax," Garrett laughed at him. "You stocked up enough to feed an army."

Even with all Aidan's friends stopping by over the next few weeks, Garrett doubted their chances of emptying the kitchen before New Year. Which meant yet another trip to a Muggle homeless shelter. It was on the cusp of becoming a firmly established tradition and a rather unfortunate one in Garrett's view. It wasn't the charity he minded, just the smell.

On that note, he still hadn't figured out which charm Aidan used to make the whole house smell like cinnamon. He actually liked that one. The spell that conjured never-melting snow, on the other hand, had done regrettable things to their shower.

"What do you suppose he wants?" Aidan was keeping his hands busy fluffing a throw cushion. He was actually doing it by hand which spoke volumes about his nerves.

"A little Christmas spirit, most likely," Garrett said. "We've got plenty of brandy."

Truth be told, Garrett's impression of their old Headmaster was that he never did anything without a purpose. No matter how much he played the role of the doddering old man. He was coming here for a reason, no doubt about it. It got Garrett thinking back to the war and the rumour he once heard about some secret organisation of Dumbledore's. Was this a recruitment mission? He dreaded to think there was a new dark witch or wizard on the rise. Namely, because he'd have a hopeless time trying to keep Aidan out of it.

The throw cushion now sat forgotten on the sofa, replaced by a snow globe Aidan polished with his sleeve.

Garrett walked over and gently prised the thing from his grasp. He put it back exactly how it was on the bookshelf then took hold of Aidan's shoulders and rubbed up and down his arms.

"Relax," he said it nicely this time. "It's really not that big of a deal. You have met him before, remember? Everything's in order. I promise to behave. You just be your charming self, and then—"

A tower of green flames rose in the fireplace and the dignified, impressively-bearded figure of Albus Dumbledore stepped into their living room.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir." Aidan hurried over to shake his hand. "Welcome."

"Thank you, Aidan. Good to see you, my boy. And you, Garrett, hello."

"Hello, Professor," Garrett said with a polite smile. "This is quite an honour."

It truly was but Garrett was mostly fishing for answers, hoping Dumbledore would state his business right away. Fat chance.

"Oh, tosh. I've only come to raid your liquor cabinet."

With that, they all sat down for drinks and nibbles and a good old-fashioned catch up.

Mead was Dumbledore's poison that afternoon, much to Garrett's relieve. Partly because they had plenty of it. Aidan's friends weren't the most sophisticated drinkers. But mostly because it saved him from opening the latest vintage Aidan managed to track down. That was one tradition he cherished and he wasn't looking to share.

Aidan would have made him share.

The conversation flowed easily. There were questions, of course, about how the restaurant was doing and what projects Garrett was working on these days but the conversation naturally veered towards the school they all had in common.

"The time's fast approaching for Harry Potter to start at Hogwarts," Aidan said while topping up their glasses. "You must be excited about that?"

Dumbledore chuckled.

"More than once, Minerva has had to stop me from sending his letter. We're not near enough to his birthday just yet."

From there, the conversation shifted to the bets already being made by Aidan and his old teammates on which position Harry would take in Quidditch. That he would play at all was taken utterly for granted, and Aidan insisted he'd be a Chaser like his dad.

Garrett listened with an amused ear as Aidan gushed over James Potter's athletic skill. He hated him — or at least hated playing against him — but he wouldn't admit it now that the guy was dead.

The past was a delicate subject and they moved away from it in time to spare the mood. They got to talking about Hogwarts as it stood today: covered in snow.

"Selfish as it is, I often wish more students would stay at the castle over the holidays," came Dumbledore's unprompted confession. "It's a marvellous thing to spend Christmas in the company of children."

Garrett bristled and did his best to hide it.

"We wouldn't know."

As the only boy of his generation of Ethelbanes, Garrett had lived — if he could call that time living — under the pressure to pass on the family name. A pressure that had almost cost him everything. Even the most indirect reminders were bitterly unwelcome. And he didn't think little enough of Dumbledore to believe the old wizard spoke thoughtlessly. Ever. He clenched his jaw to keep his mouth shut, not wanting to say anything thoughtless himself. Beneath the table, he felt a reassuring squeeze from his husband's hand on his thigh.

"Have you not given it any thought?" Dumbledore ploughed ahead. "I understand, of course, that it's not for everyone. In fact, I'm sometimes mistrusted by parents for not being a family man."

"Nonsense," Aidan rejected the notion outright.

It wasn't precisely nonsense, Garrett knew. Navigating those conservative circles, he heard the speculation over Dumbledore's proclivities, his past with Grindelwald. He witnessed first-hand how it lowered their opinion of a man who was otherwise counted among the greatest sorcerers of all time.

"Everyone knows you're the best thing to ever happen to that school."

"Oh, some say quite the opposite, my boy. Quite the opposite." Dumbledore appeared lost in thought for a moment. A tactic, perhaps, to make this line of questioning seem less calculated. "Never mind that, of course. It's you youngsters we should be talking about. How else am I to live vicariously if I don't pry like a nosy aunt?"

Aidan chuckled obligingly and offered a succinct, "It's on the cards. Just not right now."

Even that was more of an answer than Dumbledore was owed. What did they have to justify to him? Or to anyone, for that matter? Why was Garrett on trial yet again for this same crime? He made an effort to school his features but he couldn't help the boiling heat working its way up his neck into his cheeks.

"Certainly, there's no sense rushing into these things," Dumbledore said. "Of course, you have been married a number of years now."

Who did this man think he was to invite himself over, drink their booze, and give them sass? If Garrett clenched any harder, he'd crack a tooth.

"Do forgive my presumptuousness. I get this way when I see two people with so much love to give."

"There's no need to be coy, Dumbledore." It took every ounce of patience to be even this polite. And still, he could already hear Aidan yelling at him for being rude. "Clearly, you have something to say. Why not come out and say it?"

Aidan, hand still on his thigh, pinched him. Oh, there'd be yelling later. No doubt about that.

Dumbledore, for his part, appeared to take it in stride. He took his time emptying his glass before setting it down. Then he turned his attention back to them with a sombre expression.

"There is a young witch, soon to turn eleven, who finds herself in need of a new home," he began. "She's Muggle-born, you see, and her parents did not take kindly to the news."

"What do you mean?" Aidan asked.

Garrett already knew. "They've disowned her."

"Yes, I'm afraid so." Dumbledore nodded gravely. "What's more, they have informed the extended family that the girl is dead."

Aidan didn't manage to form words but he communicated his disgust all the same. It must have been especially difficult for him to fathom, having always enjoyed the best of both worlds. Having always known love.

"She has precious few places to turn."

"Where is she now?" Garrett wanted only the facts. He wasn't about to get sentimental over a child he didn't know. Shocking as this sort of thing might be to someone like Aidan, it struck Garrett as merely another day in the real world.

"The Leaky Cauldron. I've arranged bed and board for her for the time being. As for a long-term solution, ideally, I should like to avoid placing her in an orphanage."

"You want us to take her in."

There was never any use beating around the bush as far as Garrett was concerned. Most problems could be solved in the time people spent not talking about them. Even if this particular issue was an exception. And even if he might have preferred it to be a recruitment mission after all. At least now he had the answer as to why Dumbledore sprang this visit on them.

"I am hoping you will consider it."

Getting into bed that night was almost eerie. All the motions were the same yet everything was different with this thing looming over them. It was oddly reminiscent of that quiet period following a death where mundane things seem insulting. How dare they brush their teeth? How dare they act normal in the wake of such change?

What made it worse was knowing how unlikely they were to be on the same page. Neither of them seemed eager to be the first to speak. The weighted silence grated Garrett's nerves until he could bear it no longer.

"When we talked about having kids, we talked about a baby."

That seemed as good a place as any to start.

"Yes, and we also agreed that fostering is a big part of the adoption process." Aidan's tone was cautious, a telltale sign he hadn't already won the argument in his head. He often spoke as if he had. It was the single most annoying thing about him. But those were always little things. The movies they watched on their monthly trips to a Muggle cinema. The colour they painted the walls each year because to Aidan, spring cleaning meant redoing-the-entire-house-until-his-husband-literally-cried. He was never so presumptuous with anything as important as this.

"Not officially," Garrett countered.

"It helps."

He couldn't deny that. Taking in this ten-year-old charity case, getting her through school, would look good. The moment this crossed his mind was the first moment he warmed up to the idea. It occurred to him now that Dumbledore hadn't said much about the girl herself. Garrett hadn't noticed at the time, not wanting to hear it. Now he wished they had some idea what they were getting into. Potentially. He had to imagine the damage and that was dangerous. Hopelessly fixed on the worst-case scenario, he immediately pictured her as a suicide risk. That would reflect terribly on them and he swung right back to being against the whole thing.

This was the problem with fostering. He could pick out the least bruised piece of fruit if there were no better options but he couldn't see the other options. Lining them up would be cruel, he supposed. Even he wouldn't go that far.

Aidan taking his hand brought him out of his thoughts.

"You know how it feels to have your family cast you out just for being what you are."

That was all he had to say while rubbing circles into the back of his hand. It wasn't a topic Aidan often brought up. Not without good reason and he never pushed too far. In the silence, in the dark, Garrett let himself remember how it felt. Something he so rarely did. The look of betrayal in his father's eyes before the old man turned his face away for good. The venom in his mother's voice calling him selfish, telling him, you are no son of mine. He took a breath and clung a little tighter to Aidan's hand.

"That doesn't mean I can help her."

If he could barely talk about it with his own husband, how was he to broach the subject with a stranger?

As an alchemist, Garrett could practically read the molecular structure of objects and living things, and rewrite it with ease. Even back in school, he grasped concepts that eluded his peers. Provided those concepts were in any way related to the central science. Frankly, he was a genius but only in that one field. He could fully understand people as organic matter but as people, they tended to stump him. He understood enough to know this girl would not be a maths problem he could solve. She would require a different approach and expose all his shortcomings. He wouldn't be a genius when it came to her. He couldn't help her.

"It feels sudden, doesn't it?" Aidan moved the conversation forward the way he always did when Garrett needed it. "I mean, we've talked about it so much over the years—"

"We've talked about it a handful of times."

"Yes, but each time, we go on and on for a solid week. And we always land on someday, in the future."

"Well, that's how people talk about it," he said. "It's not really the sort of thing you can schedule. Dentist appointment, drinks with the boss, father a child, pick up milk."

"No, you're right." Aidan gazed up at the ceiling as though it was the night sky. As though he might read the answers to all life's questions in the stars. "I guess in the end it's something that happens to you more than something you plan. Even for people like us."

"Perfectionists?"

"Fusspots."

"Those are synonyms."

"Yes, but I like mine better. Back to the point, maybe this is a sign." Aidan turned his attention back to him with a determined look in his eyes. "It's time."

"Don't do that," Garrett groaned. "You always romanticise the idea of fate. The universe didn't conspire to dump a kid on our doorstep. We need to be rational about this."

"I'm being perfectly rational. I think we should go for it."

Garrett fought the urge to scoff or roll his eyes.

"Of course you do. If you had it your way, you'd take in every stray puppy in London."

"Don't belittle me to try to win the argument," Aidan spoke with what Garrett called his Schoolteacher Voice. The one that told everyone in the room to shut up with their nonsense. "I care about what this kid is going through, I'm not embarrassed by that."

"Well, I don't," Garrett admitted more sharply than he would've liked. He bit his tongue. He was trying to be upfront and practical, not cold. Once, early on in their tumultuous courtship, Aidan had called him a heartless bastard. It stuck with him even now. His stomach lurched at the thought of Aidan seeing him that way. He was only stating the facts. "I'm sorry but she's not our problem."

"Next you'll be saying it's not our fault what happened to her."

"That's also true."

"And not the point," Aidan insisted. "Yes, there are thousands of kids just like her. No, we can't save them all. Nobody's asking us to but someone did ask this. That's the difference."

Garrett didn't really see it that way but he'd long since learned not to engage Hufflepuffs in moral debates. It reminded him of that horrendous documentary they watched, the one that taught him badgers eat snakes. Stupid Muggle television.

"And as for fate, I don't think saying no to this is going to earn us good karma when it comes to finding a baby."

"Alright, fine." Garrett let out a defeated sigh. "If it'll shut you up, we'll arrange to meet her. Just meet her. We're not committing to anything. And if you dare break out those tarot cards again, I'm leaving you."

As expected, the Leaky Cauldron was especially busy this time of year. What it lacked in decorations it made up for in the jolliness of the crowd. And noise. Garrett had never thought much of this establishment but the rabble certainly liked it. He checked himself. He did not think of them as the rabble. They were not peasants or thugs or traitors. He did not think that way anymore.

Aidan, of course, knew every other witch or wizard here and so a short eternity had to be spent catching up with each of them. All the while, Garrett waited quietly by his side, nodding curtly at obligatory questions thrown his way. Yes, he was well and yes, work was good. Could they move on now?

Tearing themselves free at last, they spotted the RESERVED sign on the table close but not too close to the roaring fireplace. It was awkward, a few minutes after sitting down, when they saw Dumbledore walk over. Etiquette demanded they stand but his approach was hindered by twice the number of human obstacles Aidan had faced.

They waited…patiently. Aidan had the nerve to throw him a helpless glance.

"Now you know how I feel."

Finally, he reached them and suddenly, there she was. A skinny, plainly dressed creature no one would notice next to Albus Dumbledore, one who seemed perfectly happy to go unnoticed. She was ordinary enough; able-bodied, hair a forgettable shade of brown, sulking expression. A standard-issue child, Garrett supposed. All that stuck out to him was the ugly yellow-green of a bruise on her cheek.

Dumbledore took the seat at the head of the table, adjacent to Garrett, while the girl sat directly across from Aidan. It made for a strange arrangement, the way she left so much space between them. Especially when one considered the efforts Dumbledore was making on her behalf. It was rude.

"Guinevere, I'd like you to meet two former students of mine. This is Garrett Ethelbane and Aidan Kindlewood." Dumbledore pointed to each of them in turn. "They're here to have dinner with us."

Eyes the colour and shape of almonds zeroed in on them. The gears were plainly turning in her head, puzzling them out.

"They're here because you asked them to foster me and they want to inspect me first." Her eyes on them turned cold. "Like a pig at a market."

Garrett felt Aidan flinch beside him and couldn't entirely hold back the swell of defensiveness.

"That's a rather harsh way of putting it."

"Well, there's plenty of harshness to go around."

The girl slumped sullenly in her chair. Garrett might have called off this whole thing right then if not for the way she tilted her head. Her bruise was on full display now. Quite possibly her only souvenir from her family. And her eyes were downcast and bored as if she was already fed up with them being there but Garrett could recognize that mask when he saw it. He'd worn it himself for years. Disinterest was a marvellous defence against rejection; hopes couldn't be dashed if they were never raised in the first place.

"Shall we order something?" he asked. He wasn't hungry, he was just willing to let this continue for the duration of a meal.

The Leaky Cauldron hired extra staff around Christmas including waiters to help free up room at the bar. A friendly if frazzled twenty-something brought them two Butterbeers, a glass of nettle wine, and one chamomile tea before hurrying away with their food order. Garrett had never known a child with a taste for herbal teas and the effect was rather disturbing. He might've liked her better if she was drinking Pepsi or whatever fizzy rubbish was popular with Muggle children.

"Perhaps we should try again at the introductions?" Dumbledore suggested in a tone that very gently implied this wasn't a suggestion and they better do it if they knew what was good for them.

Names were exchanged once again, this time with handshakes and forced smiles.

"Oh, it was fruit," the girl mumbled just as he released his grasp.

"What's that?" he asked.

"It was fruit, not a pig." She was looking him dead in the eye. "I guess that's nicer."

A chill ran down his spine. Suddenly, he was the one on display. Words he never said out loud now embarrassed him in public. He was the one being judged. His damage, not hers. She didn't even blink. She just stared at the line-up she'd made of all his naked secrets. Magic was one thing; something was off about this little witch.

As he would later say to Aidan, "Gghhhyyyyaaa."

He brushed it aside for now.

Stilted small talk was all they had to enjoy until a complimentary bowl of Cockroach Clusters was brought over. The waiter put them down in front of Dumbledore. All the other tables had to make do with stale peanuts, if they got even that much as this busy time. Dumbledore offered them to Guinevere; her fingers hardly brushed the bowl when she made a face like she could already taste them and shook her head. Admittedly, not a favourite snack of most kids but she refused to even try one. Again, rude.

Garrett turned them down, too, but that was different. His cockroach-flavoured childhood gave him the right.

Aidan tried to connect with the girl over the Muggle sweets they likely had in common but she claimed not to recognise the names. Instead, she made up words like kiofterka and soutzoukos until Garrett stopped listening.

By the time their food arrived, the small talk had run dry. They picked at their meals and pretended this was the reason they had nothing to say to each other. A proper English dinner.

"We live in Kent," was Aidan's sudden attempt at conversation.

Guinevere stared at him blankly.

"Good for you."

"Where are you from?"

She shrugged. "Nowhere."

Garrett rolled his eyes. She was supposed to be ten, not a teenager. "What does that even mean? You have to be from somewhere."

"Papa is in the Air Force. We move around a lot."

Garrett noted her use of the present tense. She hadn't begun to process the change and he could hardly blame her but in all honesty, he wasn't eager to be there when she did.

"Oh, really?" Aidan said. "What about school?"

She shrugged again. "There are schools all over the world."

"Must've been hard to make friends?"

"It was." Guinevere fixed Aidan with a stare as sharp as a blade. "Thank you for coming all this way to rub that in my face before going back to your beautiful home in Kent."

And so, the conversation died from being murdered.

Eight excruciating minutes passed in silence while Dumbledore nursed his Butterbeer, Aidan watched the other patrons, Garrett watched the clock, and Guinevere played with her food. Mercifully, someone spoke at last. It was Dumbledore, ordering another round.

"Alright, I have an idea," Aidan announced, having apparently recovered. "I bet I can guess your favourite colour, favourite animal, and favourite subject in school."

"Knock yourself out," she said it like she meant it literally and Garrett had to remind himself not to hex a child.

"Your favourite colour is orange, that's easy."

"What?" she sounded genuinely offended. "That's the worst colour."

"OK, yellow."

"That's the other worst colour."

"Hmm… Brown."

"It's purple. Stop."

"I was getting to purple," Aidan assured her.

"Yeah, there's only so many colours."

Garrett had an idea of what Aidan was up to and tried not to let it show. He swirled his wine as if nothing else in the room was of interest to him.

"Now, favourite animal."

"Should I narrow it down first?"

"Golden marmoset."

"This is a really stupid game."

"Hippopotamus."

She rolled her eyes and refused to play.

"Goblin shark."

"What?" That reeled her back in. She looked disgusted. "Is that some sort of mutant fish you have in the wizarding world?"

"No, it's a perfectly normal shark," Aidan said. "Although, nightmarish."

"And goblins are real," Garrett chimed in. "For the record."

"What?"

"OK, I've got my final guess." Aidan paused for dramatic effect. "T. rex."

"I got over my dinosaur phase when I was eight," she huffed, indignant. "And my favourite was velociraptor."

"Mine's Dippy."

"Dippy?"

"The diplodocus they have here at the museum," Aidan said casually. "You've never been?"

"No, this is my first time in Lon—wait a minute."

Guinevere shut right back down once she realised she'd been hoodwinked into talking about herself. Garrett felt so wonderfully vindicated watching Aidan pull his tricks on someone else.

The evening carried on in that fashion. Aidan would find some way to provoke a reaction and Guinevere fought tooth and nail to shoot him down. More than a few times, she was so deliberately unpleasant that Dumbledore had to step in to reprimand her. But for the most part, it was clear she just didn't want to talk. She wanted to sulk.

Aidan did eventually figure out her favourite subject. It was maths.

At some point, she got up to use the bathroom and Dumbledore, not a moment later, went to say hello to someone he knew. Never mind all the other someones he'd known were there the whole time.

Aidan turned in his chair towards him the second Dumbledore was out of earshot.

"I want to take her."

"You cannot be serious," Garrett groaned. "Did we not just meet the same kid? Name one redeeming quality."

"She reminds me of you."

"Oh, you tosser."

Garrett was actually grateful when Guinevere reappeared and cut that conversation short. Dumbledore, of course, dawdled in a rather transparent bid to get the three of them talking on their own.

"Are you excited about going to Hogwarts?" Aidan asked then leaned in conspiratorially. "We can tell you all the secrets now that Dumbledore's not here."

The girl studied Aidan for a moment and then came out with the last thing Garrett expected to hear.

"What's a Mudblood?"

Aidan jerked back as if she'd struck him. Garrett wanted to reach out a hand to comfort him but he'd have to wait till they got home. For his part, he wasn't enjoying this new twist in the conversation, either.

"What?" Aidan's voice was so small it stabbed Garrett right in the chest.

"A Mudblood," she repeated loud enough to draw the scowling attention of the witches at the next table. "Dumbledore wouldn't tell me what it means."

"Where did you hear that word?"

She shrugged, utterly non-committal as if they were talking about the weather or that one really boring Muggle sport, what was it called… Cricket. Garrett would rather be talking about cricket.

"Does it matter?" she said.

Not really, no. That didn't mean either of them knew what to tell her.

Thank Merlin, Dumbledore chose that moment to return. He must have sniffed out trouble with the nose of a schoolteacher. Unless… Garrett found himself wondering if the two of them planned it. Perhaps Dumbledore already sat her down for The Talk about that word and then instructed her to bring it up tonight as a test. It was the sort of thing her guardians would have to tackle, after all. He wasn't sure. He wanted to think better of Dumbledore than that. It was a pretty wretched thing to do even by his standards. But if not that, then she overheard it from some drunk in a toilet stall, and how was that better?

Test or not, he was glad it was over.

A draught must have blown in as someone opened the door because Guinevere shivered. The way her face drained of all expression spoke of her mind going elsewhere, far away. Garrett wondered if she was suffering a fit or a flashback. Eyes glazed over, she looked across the tavern at the woman who'd just walked in.

"She's a werewolf," she stated like an indisputable fact.

An outrageous thing to say about anyone, least of all a perfect stranger. This was the real problem with Muggle-borns; nothing to do with blood. As foreigners, they were utterly insensitive to the cultural norms of wizarding Britain. Whoever took this girl in would have to teach her manners. He didn't have time for that.

"Yes, they do exist," Dumbledore told her. "But they are not a danger in human form. No more than anyone else, that is. And when the transformation comes, I've no doubt the lady has arrangements in place. A safe haven—"

"No. She won't make it this time." Guinevere was still staring at the woman in question. "She's going to kill someone."

A heavy silence fell over them. There was nothing funny about this little joke of hers. If it was a joke. She certainly didn't seem to find it funny, either. Then again, Muggles were said to have a bizarre sense of humour.

"You're serious?" Aidan spoke with what sounded like a willingness to believe her. He didn't sound incredulous or dismissive as Garrett might have.

"Deadly."

She might have been joking a little with that one. Garrett fought back a smirk.

"Is it a full moon tonight?" Aidan asked the whole table.

"No, not for another two weeks," Dumbledore answered him while keeping his keen eyes on the girl. "Which gives us plenty of time. I shall go and warn her."

He patted Guinevere on the shoulder in a grandfatherly gesture and left the table. Apparently, this was her cue to lose all interest in the woman and turn her attention back to them.

For a moment, this supposed ten-year-old was gravely older than her years. She had the air of a veteran, of someone who'd seen people die. Then the moment passed and she was just a kid. The urge to hold her coursed through Garrett for an insane second before he regained his senses.

Meanwhile, Aidan couldn't or wasn't trying to wipe the grin off his face.

"That's an incredible gift. I wish I could do that."

"Thanks," Guinevere said in a small yet sincere voice while avoiding eye contact.

"I mean it," he insisted. "I wanted to take Divination so badly but they couldn't find a teacher. And I've heard the one they have now is a crackpot. But you, you just saved someone's life! Two weeks before it was even in danger. You should be proud."

The girl smiled then chewed on her lip to tear it down. Garrett privately vowed to never be the reason his own child wouldn't smile.

"I'm sorry your parents were so closed-minded," he told her honestly. "You deserve better than that."

Apparently, this was the wrong thing to say. The mention of her parents seemed to cast a shadow over the girl. She stiffened and went back to acting like they weren't even there. Garrett was not usually one to put his foot in his mouth but perhaps it would become a habit around her. After all, he had no real idea how to talk to her.

Was he so wrong for not wanting to invite that into his home? He stifled a sigh, dreading the fight this could become with Aidan.

Guinevere again excused herself to go to the bathroom. When Dumbledore returned to the table a good ten minutes later — werewolves were always so touchy — she still wasn't back. It got to the point where Dumbledore had to go knock on the door and check if she was alright. She emerged then, and Garrett expected to see all the classic evidence of crying. But instead of sporting puffy red eyes and tear stains, she looked pale and clammy. So withdrawn it seemed to manifest in the tightness of her skin, making her gaunt. She looked ill. She looked corpse-like.

Did he look like that back when he bottled it up?

I can't help you, he almost said. She looked at him as if she heard.

As the evening went on, the pub grew rowdier and Dumbledore announced it was time for Guinevere to go to bed. She went without a fuss; finally, something that boded well. Although, based on how things went, she was probably just glad to be done with them rather than well-behaved. For his part, Garrett wasn't exactly sad to see her go.

Aidan made it clear to Dumbledore that they didn't have an answer for him yet. They needed to talk and sleep on it, and would get back to him within a few days. But he used the I've-already-won-and-you-will-get-with-the-programme tone of voice that promised nothing good when they got home.

And that wasn't even the worst of it.

"You neglected to mention she's a Seer."

Dumbledore looked at him as though he was surprised to be confronted on the issue.

"Did I? Oh, it must have slipped my mind."

"I don't believe anything slips that mind of yours, Dumbledore." He felt Aidan stiffen beside him but he would say his piece. "Everyone knows Seers are rare and it doesn't take a genius to figure out the advantage of having one."

A little forewarning and the Dark Lord may well have survived his infamous trip to Godric's Hollow. He might have won the war.

"What's this really about?"

"Why should it be about anything besides finding a home for a poor, abandoned child?"

"You want us to protect her," Garrett said outright, not bothering to phrase it as a question. "Who's after her?"

"No one." Neither his tone nor his face gave anything away, and Garrett couldn't tell if he was lying. "Though, sadly, it is true there are still dark forces in our world."

"And you don't want her falling into their hands."

"Naturally," Dumbledore let the word hang in the air. He let them all stew for a moment in a loud silence. Only the right answer should break a silence like that. "She's only a girl, Garrett. Take pity on her. Please."