Magic - Strictly Forbidden

The Malignant Magpies at Oxford: Advanced Muggle Studies Year One

List of Contents

Lisa had stopped a policeman and asked him for help. He was now approaching Hengist and Anne. “So you have a problem!” The policeman noted. Anne turned fast. She was quite surprised to see this person in his fancy dress. “Uoh, yes.” She replied still holding the hairpin in her hand. The policeman looked down at her. “As I can see you tried to solve the problem yourself. Do you know that this is forbidden? And how comes you can do this?” “I cannot do it or else the door would be open, wouldn’t it. I only wanted to try…” “Those stupid TV programmes. Anybody thinks he or she can open a door with a hairpin, ridiculous!” The policeman commented. Hengist was quite relieved that they were not arrested.

The policeman opened the door for them. He even opened the door to their apartment. “You should be more careful next time.” The policeman tipped his hat and left. Patience rolled her eyes. After all it had been Lisa’s fault and not theirs. “This is the kitchen!” Lisa opened a door. They had a view on a perfect mess. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to clean.” “Right, four weeks notice are definitely not time enough to clean that mess.” Anne whispered. Hengist nutched her. Lisa continued. “And this is my room.” She didn’t even dare to open the door but when she had passed and continued her way the three freshers had a brief look. ‘Chaos in Pink’ was the name given to this by Patience and right she was. “I tried all rooms and that is definitely the best so I took it, hope you don’t mind. These are the other three rooms. You just have to find out which suits you best.” She approached Hengist. She put her arms around his arm and cooed. “You are welcome to try my room any time you like.” She smiled. Hengist blushed.

“I must return to my room now, I desperately need some sleep.” She turned towards Hengist. “But if you have any questions…” Hengist freed himself from her grasp. “No, thank you, I think we shall be fine.” Lisa honoured him with one last smile and floated back to her room swinging her hips invitingly. Patience and Anne looked after her. Hengist ignored her. “Well, girls, you choose first.” Hengist decided. He was a real gentleman. “Only, don’t leave me with the room next to hers!” The last word he only whispered and pointed at Lisa’s room. Anne smiled and nodded. “Maybe you should tell her that you are gay.” She thought aloud. “Do you think she’s intelligent enough to understand that?” Patience moaned.

When they all had their respective rooms. They decided to brew a can of tea before they carried all their things upstairs. “I wondered all the way, why do you only have two large suitcases?” Hengist asked Patience. “Because I shrank all my things to the possible minimum.” She declared. He then turned towards Anne. “And you did the same?” He wanted to know. Anne shook her head. “No, I used a magical suitcase. Anything fits in there. Quite practical. It reduces the weight as well.” She explained. Hengist shook his head. “That’s not the way to start your advanced muggle studies correctly.” He reminded them. “As if you didn’t shrink any of your things!” Patience said reproachfully. He blushed.

“Hello everybody – ah just in time for a nice cup of tea.” Emerson Dicket had just appeared. “Professor, you scared us half to death!” Anne exclaimed. “Did I, really?” He asked in a surprised voice. “Thought you as witches and wizards were used to apparating. This is the fastest case of assimilation to the muggle world I’ve ever witnessed. Very interesting.” “Tea?” Anne asked. Emerson looked around and saw all the dirt. “No thank you.” “Then have at least a seat.” Hengist invited him. “Yes, but carry it upstairs from our car!” Patience added. “Actually, that is why I’m here. There will be some more help later on.” “That’s great!” Hengist replied. Anne looked around. “But then we should at least clean the kitchen.” Patience nodded. “It’s simply disgusting.” She pulled out her wand. “No, no, no!” Emerson shook his head. “You’re doing advanced muggle studies now, that means no more magic.” “C’mon, that’s neither our dirt nor our chaos!” He had another look around and finally nodded.

“Evanesco!” He commanded and waved his wand. “And where has the tea gone?” Hengist asked reproachfully. It was true, the kitchen was cleaned and tidied up, however, due to the spell the tea can and cups had been cleaned as well and were moved back to their cupboard. “I’ll prepare some more tea. It would be great if you fetched my suitcase first. I’ve a Sempercompletuscantharus – that makes being a hostess easier.” She explained. “My very dear Miss Symmons,” Emerson started quite formally. “…this falls under the muggle protection act. We talked about it in fourth grade and then again in seventh grade.” He reminded her. “But nobody will have access to it.” Anne tried. Emerson shook his head. “Anybody has access to it. They just have to walk into the kitchen, see the can and nick it.” He declared. “What kind of muggles do you know?” Patience asked mockingly. “Never forget you must be prepared for anything in the muggle world.” Anne shook her head. “It cannot happen. I put a spell on the can which makes it undetectable.”

“Somehow Anne hasn’t gotten the meaning of Advanced Muggle Studies yet.” Hengist sighed. Emerson shook his head. “No, and if I look at that car of yours, you don’t have either. What is that a mini-van? Honestly, you would at least have needed a lorry to fit all your stuff in it.” “Well, we never had a lesson on how to pack the muggle way.” Patience reminded their former teacher. “That is correct.” He had to admit. “Maybe that is something I should introduce. Do you think I can make the students bring their own suitcase?” He asked. “Sure.” Hengist replied. “A muggle one?” Patience asked. “Oh, right, I hadn’t thought of that. Well, I will have to convince the headmaster of buying a muggle suitcase.” He thought aloud. “Just one?” Hengist asked. “Oh, I will double it a couple of times.” Emerson said lost in thought. Patience and Hengist laughed.

The can noisily crashed on the floor. “That was quite obvious you would start making a mess the minute you arrived.” Anne looked at the pieces then she looked up again. “What are you doing here?” Anne shouted. “I certainly didn’t come to witness your breaking the furniture or to get myself cut, so you better remove that mess.” Anne decided to leave the kitchen instead. She hurried downstairs and suddenly stopped behind her friends. She turned Emerson around. “What is that man doing in my kitchen?” She shouted. Emerson blushed a little. He had hoped that Dumbledore or McGonagall would show up before. “Gee, I’d say he wants to help you move in. Don’t you think?” “I think you can put my trunk right back in that car for I will definitely not move into a house of which that son of a bat knows the address!” “Knowing the address will only make it easier for me to avoid your place.” Snape informed her. “I think it’s very kind of professor Snape to help us…” Patience intervened. Anne looked angrily at her. “Excuse me, I have to go upstairs to poison some tea.” She turned and left. “If you brew your tea like you did your potions there will be no additional poison needed.” Snape snapped. Anne hesitated for a short moment but then continued her way.

“Was that necessary?” Emerson asked reproachfully when Patience and Hengist were on their way upstairs with Anne’s trunk. “You should have seen what kind of fuss she made, well, you have!” Snape replied angrily. “Then she hurt you in your male pride. Anne is not the type to adore someone for what he is.” Emerson reminded him. “Miss Symmons is an arrogant little girl who doesn’t adore anyone but herself.” “That’s not true, Severus, she adores anyone who is her friend. She knows how to adore people for single features not only if she thinks the whole to be perfect. She’s a wonderful fellow and in fact I think her to be a marvellous friend too.” “Don’t try to sell her to me. We will never like each other. But that doesn’t matter for after today we will never see each other again! Now tell me what to carry upstairs the sooner we will have finished the sooner I will be able to leave again.” Emerson indicated a piece of furniture to him. Snape took it and carried it upstairs.

Anne had opened the door for Hengist and Patience. “Just put it into my room.” She ordered. She went with them. “I will fetch my can first.” Anne told her friends. “Anne really, you shouldn’t.” Hengist replied. “No way around it, the muggle one is broken.” Anne informed them. “Well, we better go on then.” Patience said and dragged Hengist outside. When Patience opened the door professor Snape stood in front of it. She made way for him. “Oh that’s my bedside locker.” Hengist said. He opened the door to his room. Patience went downstairs again. “Maybe over there…” Hengist thought aloud and pointed at one corner of his new room. He turned. “Or maybe that corner. It’s hard to decide with no bed around.” “I’m not your personal decorator. Decide for one corner and leave it there.” Snape snapped. Hengist pointed at the third corner. “Over there please.” Hengist watched the professor placing the bedside locker in the corner. “You know professor, you cannot fool me.” Hengist started. “I didn’t try to fool you, I was perfectly serious when I told you I wasn’t your personal decorator.” Snape repeated. “I wasn’t talking about that. We know you can be quite nice or else you wouldn’t be here to help us!” “I’m very sorry to disappoint your believe in the human kind. I’m only here because Emerson made me do it. He told me either I would help you or have to look after his children so that he can take Holly with him.” Snape reported. He left. “Oh!” Hengist said.

“Now, don’t break that one as well!” Snape told Anne when they met on the corridor. “Don’t worry, this one is unbreakable.” Anne said in a firm voice. “Oh, just like you yourself.” “I beg your pardon?” “I always thought of you as watertight, untouchable and unbreakable.” Anne thought this to be another quarrel rising and went to the kitchen without replying anything. “Funny, I’ve never seen her in that light.” Hengist said. He was now standing behind Snape. “To me she’s warm hearted, direct and bullet proof. Maybe that’s the same as your calling her watertight and unbreakable, but I don’t get your untouchable.” “You don’t know her the way I do, Mr. Alret.” He turned and went downstairs again. For one moment Hengist went on thinking about this.

“There they are!” Professor Dumbledore pointed at the little group of two. Emerson was the first to see them. “Albus, what a surprise, on foot, and Minerva not disguised as a cat, it’s good to have you here.” He shook hands with them. “I thought it better to keep a low profile and arrive in a natural way rather than simply showing up.” Dumbledore explained. “I think Albus simply wanted to take a short walk and use the opportunity to buy his sherbet lemon drops.” Minerva added. Dumbledore smiled. “Guilty, want one?” He offered them to both Emerson and Patience. Patience couldn’t speak. She had never seen her teachers like that. Professor McGonagall wore a long skirt and a light pullover. But professor Dumbledore took the cake in his blue jeans dungarees and his plight shirt.

“Severus, you are already here!” Dumbledore exclaimed. “Sherbet lemon?” He added offering the bag to him. “No, thank you headmaster.” “Seems you have already met Miss Symmons.” Dumbledore joked. Snape did not bother to answer. “Why don’t we get on?” Emerson suggested. Snape had already taken another piece of furniture, though he did not really know what it could have been. He met Hengist on the way. “Oh, that’s mine as well, just put it next to the locker.” He said in passing. He should have known. He did as he was told. On his way out of Hengist’s room he met Dumbledore who carried a box with utensils for the kitchen. “Ah, Severus could you help me with this?” “Of course, the kitchen is over here.” He opened a door and ran into an almost nude Lisa. “Sorry.” Snape apologized and closed the door again. Lisa opened it again. “Come in. I just wanted a little snack.” The two had a nice view on a plate filled with bread and jam and cheese and sausages. The two men entered the kitchen. Lisa looked at them from tip to toe. “Well, you definitely must be one of Anne’s relatives, but who are you?” She asked. Dumbledore grinned. “I am Patience’s grandfather and this is Anne’s uncle.” Snape glared at him for that answer. “Really, and you’re helping them to move in, that’s very kind of you. Hoping to seeing you soon again.” She said and swung her hip out of the room.

“I predict that our friends will have a lot of fun with that muggle.” Dumbledore laughed. “Why did you have to make me her uncle?” Snape complained. “I couldn’t have made you her father or brother or cousin, uncle just seemed to be perfect.” “Excuse me.” Snape said and went downstairs again. McGonagall entered the kitchen. “What happened to Severus, he looked kind of disturbed.” She said. “I just turned him into an uncle.” Dumbledore reported. McGonagall frowned. “We just had an encounter with their muggle roommate and she wanted to know who we were. Since she had already detected some likeness between Severus and Miss Symmons I thought it right to introduce him as her uncle.” “Poor Severus, but I wonder, who are you?” “May I introduce myself? I am Miss Wood’s grandpa.” Professor McGonagall shook her head. “You are insane. I’ll do this, men are not very good at such things.” She took the box with the kitchen utensils from him. He left.

Outside he witnessed Lisa asking Anne questions. “My handsome uncle?” She asked. “Tall, black hair, dark eyes, pale skin, black coat.” Lisa described Snape – obviously. “Who told you he was my uncle?” Anne asked suspiciously. “Patience’s grandpa!” She replied. “Patience’s grandpa?” Anne repeated. “I met them in the kitchen.” Lisa explained. “I see.” “Tell me, is he in some kind of religious grouping?” Lisa went on. “Patience’s grandpa?” Anne asked slightly confused. Lisa shook her head. “Your uncle. He wore these strange clothes.” “He’s Amish!” Dumbledore intervened. Lisa turned. It almost seemed that she wore even less than before if that was at all possible. “What is that?” She wanted to know. “He lives in a society without technical comforts like TV sets, hoovers or sherbet lemon drops, by the way, want one?” He offered the bag to Lisa. She refused. “I have to keep an eye on my weight.” She replied and returned to her own room. Anne shook her head. “Maybe I should move out again.” “Take a sherbet lemon.” Dumbledore offered her the bag. “Thanks.” Anne took it gladly and felt much better feeling it melt in her mouth. This seemed to be the first real thing to happen on that day.

“Anne, Anne.” Somebody whispered. Anne looked around. She couldn’t detect anyone. Maybe there were ghosts. That was a thought she liked. “Anne, come here!” The voice could be heard again. She turned and saw Lisa looking out of a tiny gap of the door and doorframe of her room. “What is it?” Anne asked in her normal voice. “Come here, I must ask you something.” She approached her. Lisa opened the door a little more and dragged Anne inside.

“Do you think he will like that?” She asked. Anne looked at a pink mini skirt. She thought about it for a moment before she looked at Lisa from tip to toe. “The skirt is alright – but…” “The shirt, I knew that shirt wasn’t right.” She took it off and showed Anne some more. Anne had thought it would be best to leave it to Hengist to tell their new room-mate about his sexuality and so she helped her out. “The one you can look through.” She decided. “Yes, I like that best as well.” Lisa put it on, though it made not much difference if she wore it or not. “Now, what can I do to impress your uncle?” She asked eagerly. Anne choked. “My uncle?” She repeated. “Yes, I think he likes me, he looked at me in that special way, if you know what I mean.” Lisa dreamed. “Did he really, well, maybe if you helped him to carry the things upstairs and helped him to decorate Hengist’s room. He likes women who take the initiative, if you know what I mean.” Anne thought this to be much better than poisoned tea.

Lisa floated downstairs while Anne returned to the kitchen to look after her tea. She met professor McGonagall. “Oh, I didn’t know you had arrived as well, welcome to Magpie Lane.” Anne greeted her former house teacher. “Whose identity have you taken?” Anne wanted to know. “I decided to be a friend of Patience’s grandpa.” McGonagall reported with a bright grin. Anne nodded. “Good decision.” Anne helped her to put the kitchen utensils into the cupboards. “I lost count, how many people will we be here for tea?” She asked while laying the table. “There’s the four of you, Emerson, Severus, Albus and me, that makes eight.” Anne nodded. “Then I will go and fetch the picnic basket, nobody bothered to take it upstairs yet.” Anne left the kitchen. On the staircase she met Snape and Lisa. She grinned. Revenge could be so sweet.

Downstairs Patience almost ran into a man wearing a black suit and a straw hat. “Sorry, sir.” She apologized. “I just can’t believe it!” “What can’t you believe?” Anne wanted to know. Patience turned. “Snape! He’s just like any other man. The moment Lisa came down here in her mini skirt and her see-through shirt he has only eyes for her butt and tits.” “You must admit that she has extraordinary…” “Stop it Emerson, or I’ll tell your wife!” Patience snapped. “Cool down, Patience.” Anne only said. She was disappointed that her plan hadn’t worked out. She was lost deeply in thought when Hengist showed up. “Did you see that?” He asked out of breath. “What?” Emerson wanted to know. “Snape and Lisa.” He started. “What are they doing?” Patience asked. “Miss Wood, that’s clearly none of your business, Miss Symmons, do something!” Dumbledore ordered. He thought that Anne had been the coolest on this topic and thought she simply did not care. “Sorry?” She asked. “You’re friends over-react on the topic of Severus and your new room-mate.” Dumbledore explained. “Do they, well, then don’t.” She told them. She remembered that she had come down to fetch the basket with the food. She went to the front door of the car. “But Anne the way he watches her they’ll end up, you know what I mean.” Hengist was desperate. “Next he will bring his own things and move right in with us!” Patience added. Anne let go of the basket. “NO!” She exclaimed and hurried upstairs. In the corridor she met Snape. “I must talk to you!” She ordered. She opened the door to her own room.

“I would offer you a chair, however, what I will have to say doesn’t takes a lot of time…” She looked around and realized that there wouldn’t have been a chair anyway. “…and besides, they are still packed.” She cleared her throat and continued in what she thought to be a mature, commanding voice. “You will stay away from Lisa if I catch you again I will throw you out of this house immediately.” Snape looked at her. “I didn’t know you cared so much about your room-mate, that’s very kind of you.” He replied calmly. “I don’t care about her at all.” Anne replied and next moment could have kicked herself for that. Snape smiled. “Then you must care about the other party to this incident. If that is so you will be happy to hear that I already informed the girl that I was in no way interested in her. As a consequence of that she apologized and retreated with a sudden attack of migraine to her room.” His voice was somehow triumphant. “Very well.” Anne didn't know what to say. The whole situation was worse enough and she herself would have liked to retreat to her own room giving a sudden attack of migraine as the reason, however, as it were Snape stood in her room and so she had to search refuge in the outside world. She opened the door and left.

“Did you talk to him?” Patience asked in a whisper out on the corridor. “Leave me alone with that!” Anne spat and continued her way downstairs. Next Patience met Snape. “Hello professor, everything alright?” She asked. “Yes, yes, extremely so, it’s good to know that someone cares about you.” He said in a very satisfied sort of voice. Patience blushed for she thought he was talking about her outburst. She hurried away to her own room – not for having a sudden attack of migraine but to re-locate some of her things. In the meantime Anne had reached the basket and picked it up again. “Were you able to solve the problem?” Emerson asked. Anne pretended she hadn’t heard him. “There will be tea, cake and some other food in 5 minutes in the kitchen, you better hurry.” She went upstairs again. Dumbledore and Emerson took a piece of furniture each and followed her upstairs. They were looking forward to some nice and quiet cup of tea as for the food they were just as eager to introduce it to the inner regions of their bodies.

Anne removed one of the plates and one cup. Professor McGonagall watched her. “Did you drive Severus away?” She asked almost reproachfully. Anne didn’t look at her. “No, unfortunately I didn’t. But professor Snape spared us Lisa’s presents. Professor McGonagall frowned. “How did he do that?” Anne finally looked at her. “Is that a real question?” She replied. “No, you’re right, it’s not. But tell me, what did you bring?” She examined the basket. “That smells delicious.” She decided. Anne took two big plates. “Can you help me divide it on these two?” She put one plate on McGonagall’s and one on her own side of the basket. “Wait, I’ll get a third plate.” Anne decided. “I’ll put all the cheese sandwiches on this one.” McGonagall informed her. Anne nodded. She put the cake and muffins on the third plate and together they filled the second plate with the sausage sandwiches. “You cannot have brought so much.” McGonagall said when she looked at the masses of food on the table. “No, I didn’t nobody had told me all of you would show up.” McGonagall looked questioningly at her. “I had to use magic – or we all would have died of hunger.” She defended herself. McGonagall nodded. “Next time we will tell you when we show up.” She promised. “Good, if you bring that son…professor Snape I will have enough time to emigrate.” She replied.

The kitchen began to fill with people. Professor Dumbledore was the first followed by Patience. “That looks delicious.” Dumbledore said and sat down eager to start. Then Emerson entered with Snape and Hengist was the last one to show up. Silently they sat at the table. Emerson was the first to break the silence. “There are still some things which must be done. The three rooms must be decorated and the car is still filled with furniture. We should divide up. What do you say?” “I agree, I will help Miss Symmons with her room.” Professor McGonagall said. Anne smiled she feared she could end up with her uncle. “Of course I will help my granddaughter.” Dumbledore informed them. “Then Severus and me will help you to decorate your room, Hengist.” “Actually, I had not intended to decorate any rooms.” Snape said coldly. “I will leave as soon as the last piece has found its way from the car to this house.” “That’s okay Severus, I’ve thought you’d say that. That’s why I engaged some others to help.” He stopped and listened for some noise coming from outside. It sounded a lot like Whistle while you work. “And I think it’s a safe prediction to say here they come.” The door was opened and four pink rabbits entered the kitchen singing and dancing. They were all fluffy and cute, as Patience noticed. Anne stared at the group who seemed to feel quite content with this sight. “That cannot be true!” She whispered. She repeated it several times getting louder each time and as the rabbits had danced for the seventh time around the table she was shouting. “THAT CANNOT BE TRUE!”

She woke herself up. Sweat was all over her body and she looked pale. Her bed was warm and the room was dark except of the fake stars glittering at her ceiling. She lay like that for a couple of minutes. She decided to get up. She left her room. “Vince? Vince?” She whispered. “Yes?” A candle was lit that gave just enough light that the two could see their faces. “Do you think it was a good idea to decide to do muggle studies, advanced muggle studies I mean.” Vince thought about this. “Yes. You will learn a lot about the muggle world. That can never be a mistake. It’s alright to be scared but never forget, you’re not alone. You have your friends and your teacher…” “Yes.” Anne sighed. “And four pink rabbits.” Vince frowned. “Good night.” Anne wished him and returned to her bed. She couldn’t sleep and so she decided to unpack her trunk and to put her thinks into a more muggle-like bag and she decided to unpack the Sempercompletuscantharus.

“So this is a Muggle university”, Anne said, looking up to the stone tower. “It’s not only a Muggle university, it’s one of the Muggle universities”, Patience corrected her friend. “Christ Church College, Oxford.” “Yes, and if we don’t find that damned street we’ll be in trouble for we can’t make Hengist carry our luggage for ever!” Anne pointed to Hengist Alret, wearing sunglasses and carrying three large suitcases as if they were only air. “We shouldn’t use too much magic, or Emerson will take points off Gryffindor”, Patience giggled. They had left Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry only this summer to start three years of Advanced Muggle Studies at a Muggle university. They had chosen Oxford, simply because their professor for Muggle Studies, Emerson Dicket, had told them Oxford was one of the very best universities in England. So there they were. Emerson Dicket had ordered they should live in a house with at least one Muggle – and they were not allowed to use too much magic. Of course Dicket knew that using no magic at all was absolutely impossible. “We should do some sightseeing when we have found the house”, Patience suggested, looking up to the High Street. “We have to walk up to High Street again and then… No, I’m sorry, we have not to go back to High Street this way back, but this little side street and then…” “Patience Wood! Show me the map! Just how did you manage to find our classrooms at Hog…” “Shhh!”, Hengist cut into Anne’s rather loud speech. He jerked his head towards an elderly couple walking past them. With Anne’s ability of finding her ways everywhere she was they found the house pretty quickly. It was a nice little cottage, with four bedrooms, a kitchen, two bathrooms and a sitting room with large windows facing a nice little garden. “Wonderful!  Bethesda will love it here!”, Patience exclaimed. Out of the large basket she carried came a loud and angry mew. “Seems your grey fur ball hates it in there!”, Hengist grinned. “Well, if Mungus could make any noise he certainly would”, Patience said haughtily. Mungus the toad was as always stuffed into one of Hengist’s pockets. Anne, carrying nothing at all except of the map rang the bell. A blonde girl with very little clothes opened the door. “Oh, hi! Who are you?”, she asked, leaning against the doorframe. Hengist had to bite his tongue not to laugh loud. “Are you Lisa Snyder?”, Anne asked back. The girl nodded. “Well, then we are your new housemates”, Anne said cheerfully. Lisa beamed at them. “Wonderful! I’m so nervous, this is the first time I’m away from Mum and Dad!” The three Hogwarts students exchanged glances. “Aha”, Patience said weakly. “Come in, come in!”, Lisa invited them. Hengist dropped the luggage in the corridor. They followed Lisa into the kitchen. “Wow!”, Patience exclaimed. “Yes, it’s nice, you’re right. I’ve chosen my bedroom already, it’s the only one with windows to the street,” Lisa called. “No problem.” “And, if you don’t mind, I want a bathroom to myself!” That made Hengist cough violently. Lisa smiled at him and cooed: “Oh, I wouldn’t mind sharing it with you, dear!” “We wouldn’t mind as well, Hengist”, Anne said quickly. “Yes, Lisa, it’s okay, you may have the chamber and the bathroom”, Patience added. After introducing themselves the Malignant Magpies went to chose their rooms as well. Hengist, knowing it would be good for Anne and Patience to have adjacent rooms, chose the smallest bedroom of all. “Just how will your things fit in here?”, Patience asked carefully. Hengist clapped his pocket. Anne and Patience grinned. “Remember Emerson is going to have an eye on us, so don’t overdo it!”, Anne nevertheless reminded Hengist. “Yes, yes, I know. I just hope there’ll be loads of nice boys around here!” That was intended for Lisa to be heard, and she caught it. Her face drained of all colour. “A pity”, she murmured breathlessly and vanished into her own room. “I guess we’ll have a lot of fun with Lisa”, Patience predicted in the manner of Professor Trelawney. They burst into laughter.

“I’ll be home tonight – I really need a nice evening at home,” Lisa announced brightly on returning from the university. “You seem to enjoy parties, though,” Anne remarked. Lisa grinned. “Who doesn’t? You should really come with me and see for yourselves.” “Thanks but no thanks,” Anne laughed. “Well, how about a nice evening together, just talking?” Lisa suggested. Patience shrugged. “Sure, why not?” “Great. I’ll fetch Hengist,” Lisa decided and ran upstairs. “And I’ll fetch something to eat and drink,” Patience resolved. Anne slumped down on the sofa. “And I’ll wait for you!”

She did not need to wait for long. “So,” Lisa began cheerfully after she had cuddled down in an armchair, “what was the school like you went to?” The Magpies exchanged glances. “Old,” Hengist settled on saying. “Mine, too, a horribly old, draughty building from the 19^th century,” Lisa agreed. “And the teachers? I bet you also had some teachers who should have rather been in a loony bin instead of a school.” “Yes, of course, that’s just the way it is,” Patience agreed readily enough. Lisa frowned. “You know, you can ask me, too.”

“Why don’t you start telling us about your school time?” Anne suggested. Lisa groaned. “Oh, alright, then, I wasn’t the brightest.” Anne and Patience grinned at each other, but luckily Lisa did not notice. “I mean, I liked school, but my grades weren’t that good. My mum was always livid when I brought home yet another D. And the worst thing ever was that E I got!” Hengist nodded sympathetically. “I can imagine you weren’t happy about those grades?” “Why not?” Patience asked innocently. Hengist gave her a warning glance. “You mean, one D or E doesn’t matter much?” Lisa asked Patience. “Erm… Yes, I guess that’s what I mean,” Patience said quickly.

“Tell that to my mum. However, I had a nice maths teacher who gave me private lessons, and so I managed to come here. My mum wants me to study, you see.” Lisa looked out of the window and sighed. “And you?” Anne prompted. “I wanted to become a stewardess, but my mum says I should do something that doesn’t reduce me to being a kind of a better waitress.” Since neither Patience nor Anne had a clue what a stewardess was, they just nodded. Hengist, however, said: “You know, maybe your mum is right. You could do something much more worthwhile than serving dinner in an aeroplane.” “Sure. That’s why my mum said I should do law. And here I am, studying the law,” Lisa concluded brightly. “Your turn,” she added.

“Well,” Hengist began, “we’ve known each other ever since we entered secondary school.” Patience nodded. “And we’ve been friends almost the whole time, although Anne came from another school later on.” “And you two ignored me thoroughly at first,” Hengist remembered laughingly. “Yes, but we managed to stay friends afterwards,” Patience said amused. “So you live close together?” Lisa asked. “No, we attended a boarding school,” Hengist replied comfortably. “Oh. I only went to the local comprehensive.” Lisa looked a bit uneasy.

“Oh, don’t think we’re rich or something,” Patience laughed. “I mean, Anne’s family does have money enough, but Hengist and me got in on account of our brains.” “Thanks, that sounds as if I were a rich idiot,” Anne said dryly. “That wasn’t what I meant to say, really,” Patience apologized quickly. “It’s okay, since I know I’m no idiot,” Anne grinned. “And – did you have trouble getting here?” Lisa asked. “You mean, what about our grades?” Hengist retorted. Lisa nodded. “They were sufficient in the subjects that mattered,” Hengist said and shrugged.

The evening passed rather quickly, after Hengist had steered the conversation into the slightly safer waters of discussing their classes, fellow students and professors. When Lisa had gone up to bed, Hengist let out his breath in a low whistle. “That was so close. Patience, you moron, how could you ask about E and D?” Patience frowned. “Well, I think it is a bit stupid to be angry about an E! A D I understand, but an E?” Anne nodded fervently. Hengist stared incredulously at his friends. “Did you forget?”

“Forget what?” Patience asked puzzled. “Emerson gave us a list with things to learn by heart, including the grades. The worst grade for a Muggle is an F, D and E are the next worse grades, don’t you see?” Hengist asked desperately. “Oh,” Anne said surprised. “So they don’t see E as Excellent, but rather like our D for Dreadful,” Patience concluded. “Yes,” Hengist said relieved. “Maybe we had better never talk about grades again,” Anne said cheerfully. Hengist frowned. “Maybe you had better learn Emerson’s hints by heart.” Patience and Anne exchanged a glance. “That’s too much bother – you’ll rescue us out of tight scraps,” Patience decided confidently and got up. “Good night, Hengist.” She and Anne left Hengist sitting in the living room, where he wondered how he was to survive three years with his witch friends and a load of Muggles.

“Argh!” A shrill shriek ripped through the early morning calm of 3, Magpie Lane. Hengist, Patience and Anne dashed downstairs. There was Lisa, standing on top of the living room table, looking horrified. “What happened?” Anne asked breathlessly. “Did somebody attack you?” Patience wanted to know and began to fumble for her wand. Hengist followed the direction of Lisa’s fixed gaze and dived under the sofa. “Nothing,” he said and shrugged.

“But… there was … it’s horrible,” Lisa stammered. “Was it a spider?” Patience asked, now alarmed herself. “No – worse,” Lisa shuddered. “Worse? Banks?” Anne joked. Patience giggled. Hengist was still searching the living room, so far unsuccessful. “Shall I help you?” Anne offered when she saw Lisa was attempting to climb down the table. Lisa gratefully took Anne’s hand and came down, her knees still weak. “What was it that shocked you so?” Patience kindly asked. But Lisa only shook her head. “Did the flee-farm bring a headless mouse in?” Anne suggested. “Hey!” Patience exclaimed. “Oh, c’mon, that cat of yours isn’t particular about its diet,” Anne protested. Patience frowned. “Bethesda is a cat, what do you expect?” she asked sharply. “That she keeps her food outside,” Anne replied promptly. “Anne, she shows how much she likes us by bringing in her prey,” Patience explained. Anne only snorted.

“Lisa, what did the monster look like?” Hengist asked, getting up and brushing some dust from his trousers. “Ugly,” Lisa said and closed her eyes. “I told you, Banks was here,” Anne said. Patience grinned. “Or maybe Emerson dropped in and shocked Lisa?” “Who is Emerson?” Lisa asked puzzled. “And who is Banks?”

“Banks is Roland Banks, he was at our old school and is here as well. A pity, though, we thought we’d get rid of him,” Hengist explained. “And Emerson is an old teacher of ours who has agreed to be our counsellor during our studies,” Anne added, careful not to mention wizards and magic. “Your school provides tutors?” Lisa asked incredulously. Hengist nodded. “Boy, what a posh school that must be!” Lisa said awed. Anne and Patience exchanged a glance. Posh school, indeed. “It’s in a castle,” Patience ventured. Lisa’s eyes widened even more. “Wow,” she said. “My school was built in the 1950s and has never been changed since.” “I wonder if Ho… our school has ever been changed,” Patience mused. Hengist threw her a warning glance and rubbed his hands.

“Be that as it may – what did the monster look like apart from ugly?” he asked. “Greenish brown,” Lisa informed the Magpies. “Mungus,” Anne and Patience said in one voice. “Yet another strange name,” Lisa commented. “Mungus is Hengist’s pet,” Anne explained. “Hengist has a pet? I thought we had only Bethesda running around here,” Lisa said surprised. “You can’t actually call Mungus’ movements running,” Patience giggled. “But if it was Mungus, I guess he’s hiding in the flowers,” Anne added and walked over to the windowsill where she rummaged in the flower pots. Consequently, the leaves began to shrivel up. “What happened?” Lisa asked bewildered. “Oops. Nothing,” Anne lied quickly.

“Mungus!” Patience called. “Mungus, come here!” Hengist laughed. “Mungus has never listened to anyone calling him.” “No, but he has suicidal tendencies,” Patience grinned. “What?” Lisa asked. “Mungus was a gift from my aunt, and I do not really like him – but I keep him. That doesn’t stop me from trying to get him killed,” Hengist said cheerfully. Lisa stared at him, not sure whether to believe him or not. She managed a weak smile, thereby indicating she preferred thinking Hengist’s remark a joke. Patience raised her eyebrows.

Suddenly something grey and furry shot into the living room, skidding to a halt in front of Patience. Bethesda looked up at her mistress. “That’s my lovely,” Patience beamed and took the thing Bethesda had been carrying onto the palm of her hand. “Lisa, may I introduce you to Mungus the toad?” But Lisa gave a stifled yell and escaped upstairs.

The classes at Christ Church were mostly fun. The Malignant Magpies, however, couldn’t quite get over the habit of being horrible to Slytherin Roland Banks. One day the boy came sporting a new tie. “What’s that?”, Anne asked disgusted. “Forsaking Hogwarts, are you?”, Patience asked with a voice that betrayed danger of her being very furious. “Who knows Hogwarts around here?”, Roland retorted haughtily. “This is an Eton tie, and I’ve already been invited to join some clubs because of it.” “Yeah, because without it, you troll-like dunderhead, you wouldn’t have been asked at all!”, Patience hissed. “Keep cool”, Hengist softly whispered.

But too late: “I always knew that Slytherins use any means to achieve their ends. But that means you also need to brew a success potion and a giant cauldron full of love potion!”, Patience said a bit too loud. Some Muggle students turned to the little group and sniggered. Out of nowhere, which was his specialty, Daniel Rutherford appeared. “You shouldn’t be quarrelling here in the cloister. C’mon, we’ll go to the lawn. I think I have to talk to all four of you.” There was no way of not following Daniel. After all, he was the official contact to Dicket. “Okay, you guys, the problem is you’re still too close to school. I may of course remind you that the name of our school shouldn’t be mentioned?” Patience blushed but pressed her lips together and stayed silent. “It isn’t well, however, to pretend having been at an elite school. A muggle elite school!” Daniel sounded indignant. “Hogwarts is an elite school!”, Anne said triumphantly. Daniel sighed. “Of course it is, we all know that, but try saying Hatfield or something like that instead of Hogwarts. Just how many times have you performed a mind wipe with your housemate?”, the older student asked sarcastically.

Hengist smiled innocently. “About once a week, but to her little brain no damage can be done”, he said in a sweet voice. Patience and Anne giggled. Daniel shook his head. “Emerson’s right, you’re a bit too careless. Nevertheless, I want you to forget old house rivalries. This is plain Roland Banks, aren’t you?” Roland nodded sulkily. “And here are three friendly creatures. Not one Slytherin against three Gryffindors!” “In which house have you been?”, Anne asked instantly. Daniel groaned. “It doesn’t matter around here!”, he said. “Oh, a Hufflepuff perhaps?”, Hengist suggested. “Not a Gryffindor or we would have known you before we came here”, Patience smiled. “Not a Slytherin either”, Roland hurried to add. Daniel looked at the four students in front of him. “You won’t keep silent until I tell you. Ravenclaw.” And with that he turned briskly and walked off.

“Ravenclaw. Okay, that’s bearable”, Anne joked. Hengist nodded. “A Hufflepuff would be too stupid to get along with Muggles”, he agreed. Roland snorted. “Yeah, and the only Slytherin around here is really a dunderhead, so he wouldn’t associate with him. Is it true you’re not even allowed to call Dicket by his first name?”, Patience enquired nastily. Roland went brick red. “He’s a professor after all”, he snapped in a very weak imitation of Snape. “Practise for some hundred years, maybe you’ll manage imitating our revered Potions Master in his more lenient moods by then!”, Hengist advised him. Laughing, the Malignant Magpies went to their next class.

“I wonder what they are all doing at Hogwarts today,” Patience thoughtfully stated. Her pen was sticking behind her ear, slowly dripping ink down her neck which Hengist had been watching rather fascinated for the last quarter of an hour. “It is a Saturday afternoon, and it’s fairly good weather – walking around the lake,” Anne suggested. Hengist nodded. “Or having a bit of fun doing Snape’s potions homework.” Patience sighed. “Or playing Quidditch,” she longingly said. Hengist snorted. “Your brother will most probably make them practise until they fall off their brooms because they’re so tired.” “Verres is a good team captain,” Patience defended Oliver Wood.

The doorbell rang, and Patience made as if to go. Hengist stopped her. “You can’t go – you’ve got ink all down your neck.” Patience touched her neck and looked at her moist fingertips: green. “Oh dear,” she sighed and went upstairs to get rid of the war-colouring. Anne had in the meantime opened and faced Emerson Dicket. “Hello, my favourite Muggle Studies students,” the professor cheerfully said. Anne grinned. “Hello Emerson. How’s life in the real world?” Emerson frowned. “This is the real world Anne. Hello Hengist. Where’s the third one?” “Upstairs, she had a little encounter with her ink,” Hengist reported truthfully. “How is life here, with your housemate?” Hengist rolled his eyes. “Apart from the fact that she falls for me but I not for her she’s okay,” he said, but sounded less than enthusiastic. Emerson nodded. ”Yes, well, this can happen anywhere. Anne?” “It’s okay,” Anne shrugged. Patience appeared again, no ink on her neck any longer. “Hello, what a nice surprise!”

Just then the doorbell rang again. Patience shook her head. “Stay where you are, I’ll see who wants to talk to us – most probably one of Lisa’s admirers,” she joked. But when she opened the door she nearly closed it at once again. “Hello, Patience. Can I come in or is it inconvenient?” “Of… of course you can come in,” Patience stuttered nonplussed. Of all the people that might have visited, this was her very last guess. Anne went pale when she saw who had entered. “Pinch me,” she hissed at Hengist who complied. It was definitely not a dream, Anne decided – not this time. But there he was, Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, in their living room at Oxford. “I just wanted to make sure you are comfortable here. What a nice house!”

And as if Lisa had sensed that here was a situation her presence could bring to a crisis, she turned up. Anne waited with halted breath. “Hello, so many visitors?” Lisa asked surprised. Hengist grinned. “Yes, as you can see. Lisa Snyder, Emerson Dicket,” he introduced the teacher first. “I’m an old teacher of theirs, you know,” Emerson explained. “And this is…” Hengist began. But Dumbledore himself spoke up: “I am Patience’s grandfather.” With a stifled cry Anne fled upstairs. Hengist looked highly embarrassed and Patience close to fainting. Lisa beamed at Dumbledore. “I’m so glad to meet you, sir. Are you here to visit your granddaughter, then?” It dawned on Emerson that Lisa was not the brightest. “Well, yes,” Dumbledore chuckled, “and to show them around the town. A new town, you see, but I’ve been here a couple of times.” “Oh, how nice of you, really. I wish I could join you, but I have to work.” She shrugged and smiled apologetically. “Excuse me, will you?” And with that she left to her own room.

Emerson took a deep breath. “Well, Grandfather Wood, I wonder if that was the best idea.” Dumbledore smiled mischievously. “I always liked telling muggles things that are not quite true. Miss Wood, will you nevertheless join your grandfather for a walk through your college? I have the latest news about the Hogwarts Quidditch teams.” Patience laughed. “Certainly. Shall we take Anne, too?” Hengist grimaced. “I doubt she will come down. You know, she had this dream, you all came here, and you, sir, said you were Patience’s grandpa – and now…” “Now I am here and I said what I said in this dream. This might give anyone a shock. Please give my apologies to Miss Symmons.” Dumbledore offered his arm to Patience and the two left, soon talking animatedly about the four Quidditch teams. Emerson and Hengist remained behind. Emerson leaned forward. “Now, Hengist, I rely on you: not too much magic in this house, or I can’t keep you from real trouble with the Ministry,” he warned. Hengist nodded. “I know that – but then, you know them, it’s hard to keep them under control,” he stated. Dicket chortled. “I know that. But you can always call for help. I think a visit from Severus would be an appropriate punishment some day, eh?”

That evening, the Magpies had a lot to talk about. They were in Anne’s room as that was the biggest. “I thought I’d die – and then Dumbledore said the self-same words…” Anne marvelled, shaking her head. Patience grimaced. “I hope I can keep that in mind.”

The Malignant Magpies and Lisa were sitting in their living room. Lisa was busy colouring her fingernails in an absolutely disgusting shade of pink. Hengist was writing an essay for one of his classes, Anne was reading and Patience tried to write on parchment with her quill as quietly as possible. It didn’t work. Her quill needed either mending or she needed a new quill. Mending it now would draw Lisa’s attention to it unfailingly. Buying a new quill would mean getting either by train or by Floo Powder to Diagon Alley. Impracticable. “I wish Emerson would allow us to type our reports”, she whispered to Hengist at the desk next to her. Anne had caught that. “I wish they would still use quills around here”, she murmured. Anne hated the computer Hengist and Patience had thought necessary.

It never worked when she was around, or if it did it was sure to mess things up just when she had finished. Patience giggled and went on writing. Lisa looked up. “Your pen screeches”, she said carelessly. “Oh, sorry”, Patience said. “Can I borrow your… pen, Anne?”, she asked. Anne nodded. “It’s up in my room, but I advise you not to take the green one”, Anne warned. “Green? You’ve got a green… pen?”, Hengist asked curiously. Anne nodded. “Since our class with Banks yesterday I have”, she said. “Oh, he gave it to you. How romantic!”, Lisa laughed. Anne ignored her. “A pencil might have been better or a needle to pierce him, but, well, as it is…”, Anne stated pointedly. Patience and Hengist burst into laughter. They knew that Anne had transfigured Roland’s pencil into the quill and had let it flow towards herself. When Patience was upstairs rummaging in Anne’s room, Emerson Dicket himself appeared in front of the door. Patience spotted him from the upper window and secretly swore. “He’s got a talent for coming in the worst moments”, she said under her breath and ran downstairs, the green quill in her hand. Anne frowned seeing it.

Emerson looked at the quill before even greeting Patience. “Okay, my dears, a word with you in the kitchen”, the Hogwarts professor said calmly. “Why this quill? Mine is in the top drawer of my desk!”, Anne furiously hissed. “I forgot when I saw Emerson”, Patience defended herself. “What is this quill?”, Emerson asked, trying to keep a straight face. “Well, it’s a quill. It’s green and funny, but it’s a quill”, Patience said innocently. “Try that with Flitwick”, Dicket dismissed the attempt. “I transfigured Banks’ pencil because he’s a nasty Slytherin, no matter what tie he wears or what Daniel tells us!”, Anne said fiercely. Dicket sighed. “You’re so childish sometimes! But, okay, I see, there is a problem. I should have advised Banks to go to another college. The problem is we have only five spare places, and the only place in Cambridge was already promised to go to someone else.” Hengist nodded. “I see. But we were no friends at school, and I doesn’t get better”, he informed his former teacher.

Dicket gave a short laugh. “That is obvious. Not only, Anne, will you transfigure that quill back, but you will also receive letters the next few days by muggle post giving you instructions for an evening activity the four of you have to attend. I will see to it your housemate won’t join you. It’ll be hard enough for you without her”, Dicket promised and left – not through any door, but by simply Disapparating. “And he lectures us for using magic!”, Patience joked. “Wonder what he wants us to do”, Anne said thoughtfully, playing with the quill. “When will you re-transfigure it?”, Patience enquired. “Next time I get the chance”, Anne sighed. “He said ‘back’”, Hengist warned. “What d’you think? I should transfigure it maybe into a needle!” “Anne, we’ve done that more than once, so let’s leave that”, Patience declared.

 Three days later the instructions arrived: The four Hogwarts students at Oxford had to attend a movie! “Is there written which movie it is?”, Hengist asked. “It’s a comedy, Emerson writes”, Anne told him. “Hey, wow, a movie about Snape!”, Patience burst out, reading the title over Anne’s shoulder. Hengist quickly took the letter from Anne. “Oh dear! ‘Grease’ is not a movie about Snape!”, he said laughing. “What then?”, Patience asked her friend frowning. “It is a love story, I think. With lots of music. A pity we have to go there with Roland Banks!”, Hengist sighed. But it was not to be changed, they had to obey Dicket. “At the end of four years you will get a certificate of being experts in Muggle life. The Ministry will want you immediately, and you have good chances to get well-paid jobs”, Dicket had told them when they had started their Advanced Muggle Studies. Why Hengist of all students had decided for this career was a complete puzzle to Anne and Patience, for no one could know more about Muggles. Hengist was Muggle-born.

On their walk to the cinema, Patience asked him: “Why did you want to do all that?” Hengist grinned. “To stay with my best friends of course. And what else could I have done? Tending dragons? No, thanks, these magical creatures are nothing for me!” “But it isn’t new for you. Everything we make blunders at is completely normal for you!”, Anne stated. Hengist nodded. “Of course. But it is so much fun seeing you make blunders!” He was nudged from both sides and cringed with laughter and pain in his sides. Banks was waiting for them in front of the cinema. “You are late”, he stiffly said. “Oh, really?”, Patience asked innocently but otherwise held her tongue. They bought their tickets, that is, Hengist bought three tickets but left Roland counting the Muggle coins himself. He didn’t do well and the woman selling the tickets was amazed. “Young man, are you a stranger?”, she asked friendly. Roland looked at her with contempt. “I was at Eton”, he proudly said. Anne buried her face at Patience’s shoulder to hide her laughter. The woman snorted. “Then get on counting your money, your highness!” Her voice didn’t sound too friendly any longer. But Banks had done and had counted out the price finally.

They looked for seats. “The best seats are to the walk in the middle”, Patience told her friends. “How do you know?”, Anne wanted to know. “Verres and me were at a movie long time ago. Do you know that this is the only way muggles are able to make pictures move? You cannot even change anything in these movies!” Hengist pressed a finger on his lips to indicate Patience should guard her words. She looked conscious of what she had done and fell silent. A fight began between her and Anne who would be sitting next to Banks. Before it could get too obvious, Hengist squeezed himself into the seat next to Banks. Patience dropped next to him with a triumphant smile at Anne who simply shrugged. “Better that way. Though it would have been a perfect occasion to hit Banks with some little charms”, she whispered to her friend. Hengist had even provided for food: a bag of potato chips and some chocolate-covered raisins. Roland hadn’t dared to buy anything except of his ticket. The lights faded slowly.

“Does it have to be dark?”, Patience promptly piped up. “Yes, it has”, Hengist whispered and added: “And the audience is supposed to hold their tongues!” “Spoilsport!”, Patience retorted good-naturedly and grabbed a handful of chips. Something began on the big screen in front. “Oh, that’s the film?”, Anne asked in a very low whisper. “No!”, Hengist hissed. “Do they want to sell that stuff?”, Anne asked incredulously. “What is this stuff, in fact?”, Roland whispered hoarsely. Patience had to clap her hand over her mouth not to laugh out loud. Even she knew what that stuff was: cigarettes. “They’re selling camels, you know!”, Anne informed the former Slytherin student earnestly. Hengist buried his face into his hands, shaking with laughter. “Look, that’s the one they sell!”, Patience joined in the fun. Indeed there was a drawn camel walking over the screen, passing some pyramids. It was, Patience thought, a pretty cute camel, with wonderfully large eyes. “Wonder if there is anywhere such a cute camel”, she whispered to herself, causing Hengist to ‘accidentally’ drop a lemon drop so that he had to dive for it.

The people in the row behind were already telling them to shut up. “Oh dear!”, Anne sighed annoyed. “Muggles!”, Roland muttered arrogantly. Then something else came: The logo of a movie-maker. “Okay, does the film now start?”, Anne enquired. Hengist shrugged. “Could be a trailer”, he informed his friends – and Roland, though not deliberately. Patience and Anne stared at him. “A trailer?”, Patience asked. Hengist nodded, then he recognized neither of the girls had a grip on what he was talking about. “Girls! Haven’t you ever paid attention at Muggle Studies?”, he grinned. Patience nudged him promptly. “Well, then, let me enlighten you: A trailer is something you get to see when you should watch a film.” “Pardon me?”, Anne asked. Hengist ruffled his curls. “It’s an ad for an upcoming film! Got it now? And please, shut up, will you?” Anne tried to look offended but failed because of the grin on her face. Patience got absorbed in the trailer. She thought it fascinating. Even though these were moving pictures alright, they still seemed so… well, unnatural. Every magic moving picture was acting on his own will. If it didn’t want to be seen, then it wasn’t. If it didn’t want to smile, it didn’t. But these… Patience knew about actors, people being told how to be another person.

“This is weird!”, she mumbled, and Anne nodded agreeing. After a few trailers the real film started. “I thought it was a film with real actors!”, Roland said – rather loud. “Shhh!”, the audience made. “Sh!”, Hengist said as well, grinning. “You wait and see”, he nevertheless added. It turned out to be a film with real actors after all. Only the overture, as Anne called it, was in drawn pictures. The story was easy enough to understand, and the music was good, no doubt. But still… “Why doesn’t she simply whip up a love potion?”, Patience finally burst out after the umpteenth time listening to the complaints of the main character. Hengist chuckled. “Because she’s not a witch.”

It was about high time for the Malignant Magpies to do some cleaning. Lisa who always got around by claiming that she had just done her nails decided to go to the cinema rather than watching the other do all the work. “You must admit I only would have been in your way.” She said and closed the front door. “Judged by that she should be out of the house 23 hours a day.” Hengist said and turned to his friends.

“Have you ever cleaned the muggle way?” He asked like a teacher would who intends to teach a student new tricks. “Not exactly, no.” Anne admitted while Patience simply shook her head. It was good that the young women did not know that this was to be a first time for Hengist as well. Dear reader, you must not imagine that he never wanted to clean, however, his over-protective mother – so far – had kept him successfully from ruining his life and constitution by touching anything that remotely looked as if it was meant to tidy up the house.

“Then I will give you a brief introduction to the basics: This…” And by announcing ‘this’ he grabbed it tightly. “…this is a broom.” And this had exactly been enough introduction for Patience and Anne. The latter grabbed the broom while the other filled a bucket with hot water. Hengist watched them carefully not to miss out one of their tricks. “Now, where are the cleaning ingredients?” Patience asked when the bucket was filled.

Hengist looked around the kitchen. Anne engaged the broom in doing the preparation for the later wet cleaning. “Maybe in the room where the broom was?” Patience suggested. “Yes, that would be it.” Hengist left and returned with a green bottle. “Do you need all of that?” Anne wanted to know. They turned towards Hengist who couldn’t do anything but shrug. Patience started to read the instructions given on the bottle.

1. Sweep the area which is meant to be cleaned.

2. Fill a bucket with hot water.

3. Add half a cup of this to the water if the area is only normally dirty.

At this Patience looked up again. “What is normally dirty?” Anne looked around and tried to think of her own home which, however, had always looked cleaner than this place. “They must specify this, aren’t they saying anything about the kind of dirt?” He tried. Patience read on.

4. Use a cloth to spread the water on the requested area.

5. Let it dry.

“No, nothing.” She stated. Hengist looked around. It did not seem particularly clean, then again there might be some places dirtier than this. “We could go from house to house and check it out.” Anne suggested half jokingly and half seriously. Hengist looked at her and frowned. “Who would show his or her dirty kitchen to us?” “Maybe that is the indicator: if you don’t show it to others it is more than normally dirty.” Patience threw in. Anne looked at the floor. “Would we?” “Who is for showing it to others raises his or her hand.” Hengist said and three hands went up. “Then – by the power given to me by the people – I decide that this floor is normally dirty.” Patience added half a cup to the hot water and Anne applied it with the cloth to the floor.

Hengist and Patience went to the living-room to do some vacuum cleaning. The vacuum cleaner had been hiding next to the detergents. Very professionally Hengist placed it in the middle of the room and with the tip of his foot he put it on. Or rather he tried to put it on. He tried the next button but nothing happened. Patience looked at the cleaner. She remembered a TV advertisement. “Isn’t there supposed to be a connection to the eccletricity system?” She asked. “Oh, yes, of course, I forgot.” Hengist blushed heavily. He turned the cleaner and turned it and turned it. “I think it has disappeared.” He mused. “But there’s a picture, look.” Patience pointed at a picture which showed a bit of cable and plug. She pressed the button next to it but nothing happened. She discovered the KLAPPE and opened it. “Ah, there it is!” She pulled hard when Hengist pressed the button again. At first the pulling got easier, however, when she stopped the cable was dragged inside again. “Hey. It pulls me inside.” She looked up and noticed that Hengist was involved into it. “You try to pull me inside.”

“Sorry.” Hengist apologized and let go of the button. “You push it when I say push and you stop pushing it when I say stop.” Patience commanded. “Push, stop, push, stop…” This strategy helped them to get out the cable. Patience cleaned while Hengist moved the furniture. They went through all rooms: cleaning, sweeping and hoovering. This took them a couple of hours but it was well worth it.

“It has never looked that clean!” Anne observed. The other two nodded. She checked her watch. “What about going to Cholo’s and enjoy a nice vegetarian cannelloni?” To Anne’s suggestion everyone agreed. They grabbed their jackets, money and the key and set off. Just as they left Lisa returned. “We’re off to have something to eat…” Hengist explained in passing by. “So sorry, I can’t join you.” She gave her best Lisa smile. “But I’ll meet a friend in a couple of minutes. You should tell me earlier next time.” She sighed and went inside.

“Unlucky us!” Hengist stated. Anne and Patience stared at him. “Had we known earlier we would have only invited her on short notice.” He explained. The girls laughed in agreement and so they entered Cholo’s and enjoyed their meal and talk until they had finished after two hours. When they couldn’t come up with another reason for staying longer they returned to their home. Had they known what awaited them there they would have decided to have another cannelloni and moved out of their flat without ever entering it again.

Hengist did the honours and opened the door for the girls. The air moved by the door made some tiny feathers float. “Did we miss winter?” Patience asked. Anne looked around the flat and would have almost screamed. The corridor was a complete mess. A broken vase and mirror, pictures coming from the wall. The kitchen looked equally destroyed. Fruits and vegetables lay on the floor the table and chairs were turned around. The water was boiling and the fire alarm was on the verge of calling for help.

The living-room was – no, there were no words for the state of the living-room. “LISA!” The three called in one angry voice. “Yes.” Shyly she pierced out of Patience’s bedroom. “I’ll kill her!” Anne decided but was held back by Patience. “It was an accident, really.” Lisa explained. “What does that mean?” Patience said and approached her room. She opened the door just to close it again. “We’ll go to the cinema.” She decided.

“When we’ll come back this will be as tidy and clean as it was when we left.” Hengist informed her. “But it wasn't me, it was my friend’s dog. You like dogs don’t you?” Hengist slammed the door. “Will she make it?” Patience asked. “Never.” Anne decided. Hengist sighed. “Well, that is one thing that won’t be our trouble.” He decided.

They enjoyed the movie and when they returned Lisa was crying in her room. The other parts of the house were still a mess. The three sat down in the kitchen and enjoyed a nice cup of tea. Plop. Professor Dicket had appeared. He looked around the kitchen. “Wasn’t this week’s task to clean everything the muggle way?” He asked in a surprised voice. “But maybe my message did not reach you?” The three remained silent. They had decided to ignore him.

“Certainly you had a good reason. You had to do other important work or maybe you did not find the cleaning utensils in all this mess.” He turned back to them. “Or maybe you went deaf or I turned into a ghost.” He took a zip of Anne’s tea and looked down at himself. “No, can’t be I’m not leaking.” He looked up at them again. “What happened?” “Was it the Huns?” Anne asked. “Was it a storm?” Patience added. “No, it was Lisa.” Hengist explained. “Oh.” Emerson sat down. “So, things are not too well with your muggle housemate. I’m sorry for that.”

“He’s sorry for that! Pah!” Anne said sweeping the kitchen floor. “SORRY!” She repeated. “The professor is sorry, but of course we have to do the cleaning again.” “What’s wrong with you?” Hengist opened the door and peeped inside. “It’s obvious, Lisa should do that and not us.” Anne replied. Hengist grinned. “But we don’t learn for our studies but for life.” Anne continued. “You’re cute when you’re angry.” Anne raised the sweep. Hengist closed the door fast and returned to Patience.

“What’s she doing?” She asked. “She’s angry with Lisa and Emerson.” He explained. “And the fact that we have to clean again. She’s fuming.” “Can’t you understand her?” Patience said. “Yes, I do, but I think she has a rather peculiar way of getting angry. She will sweep the kitchen for an hour and all the while she will complain about the situation – but hey the floor will be clean afterwards.” Hengist laughed. “I mean, she’s fun to watch and somehow I can’t be angry any longer.” Patience nodded.

“We should take some pictures next time to prove that we have done it.” Anne suggested when they sat down to have another tea. “Or actually take pictures while we do some cleaning.” Hengist added. “We could do a teaching video for future muggle studies students.” Patience threw in. They went silent for a moment. “I’ll get a camera!” Hengist said. “I’ll get the cleaning things.” Anne added. “I’ll get Lisa to make a mess.” Patience jumped from her chair.

“Hang on!” Anne raised her voice. “We’re not serious about this, are we.” The other two sat down again. “No!” They said in one voice. They leaned back zipping their tea. “Pity, isn’t it?” Patience sighed. Hengist nodded. “More tea?” Anne asked and poured some more into the cups.

“Girls, I’ve found something – you won’t believe it!” Hengist sounded almost breathless, and his smile was mischievous. Anne and Patience, amusing themselves with reading a Muggle women’s magazine, waited for his revelation. Surely it was something spectacular, or else Hengist would not be so excited. “Tell us, then,” Anne urged when Hengist just watched his friends expectantly. “Oh, you don’t seem to be very interested. What is it that fascinates you so?” Hengist asked, sauntered over and had a look at the magazine’s shrill-pink headlines. “Aha. How to get the perfect beach look, why my boyfriend cannot be mine forever, 101 ideas for a hot summer party – girls, since when is that your style?” Patience giggled. “We thought we could take a leaf out of Lisa’s book,” she confessed. Anne nodded. “And we thought a summer party might not be that out of order, anyway. What do you think?”

Hengist sighed. “Girls, it’s October. Do you really think a summer party would be good?” “Well, the weather can be dealt with, we can have a beach inside, and some sound effects – you know, it’s all just a flick of the wand away,” Patience said dreamily. Hengist groaned. “No way. No sunshine beach party in here. If you read such nonsense magazine, read at least the most recent issue!” “Okay, next time we do that,” Anne agreed.

Patience cocked her head. “Now tell us before you burst,” she said. Hengist sat down and grinned hugely. “Yeah, girls, do you sit comfortably?” “Yes, thank you,” Anne replied surprised. “Then stay seated. You know I’ve been working on some medieval heroes, don’t you?” Hengist obviously enjoyed straining the tension. “Go on,” Patience told him half amused, half unnerved. Hengist smiled at her. “Of course, my dear Patience. Have a bit more of that virtue that your name implies you have in abundance.” Patience bristled but kept her tongue. Anne shook her head and made a move as if to get up. “You know, this is too much like kindergarten for me.”

Hengist raised a hand. “Wait, Anne. The gist of my story is this: There’s a Song of Roland.” “There’s what?” Anne spluttered. Patience just eyed Hengist with huge eyes. Hengist nodded vigorously. “The Chanson de Roland tells the story of some knight of the court of Charlemagne. This supposed hero went to Spain with Charlemagne to fight the Muslims there, and in a gorge, he and his men were caught by the Muslim army. Roland fought until all his men were dead, and he himself fell just after he had blown his famous horn, Oliphant.” Hengist looked expectantly at his friends. Anne swallowed, then said: “Oliphant?” “Yes. And the whole thing is said to have happened in Roncevalles. Oh, by the way, Charlemagne found his faithful Roland and buried him and the other dead,” Hengist added as an afterthought.

“A hero, Roland a hero?” Patience asked weakly. She could not really imagine Roland Banks to act the hero in any way. “Imagine that, Roland Banks facing a grim Muslim with a sword. What would he do?” Anne asked thoughtfully. “Drop his sword and turn tail,” Hengist said dryly. “Drop his sword, pierce his foot, and be killed,” Patience suggested. “Do you think he’d remember he had a wand with him?” Anne asked. “No,” Hengist and Patience said unanimously. “Me neither,” Anne agreed.

“And why is that Roland a hero worthy to get a song all for himself?” Patience wondered aloud. Hengist shrugged. “I think the medieval kings would have dearly liked to have such faithful men going down for them.” Anne frowned. “You know,” she said slowly, “it does remind me of You-Know-Who.” “Does it?” Patience asked doubtfully. Anne nodded. “See,” she began to explain, “see, You-Know-Who wanted to have people who did not think but acted on his orders. They had to fight until they died – or their opponents, which was of course preferable.” Hengist bit his lip, then he said, looking out of the window: “Perhaps that’s true. Then Roland – our Roland – would he fit that portrait?” “Being a minion? Yes,” Patience said without hesitation, then shuddered. It seemed as if the temperature in the room had fallen by some degrees.

“And what can we do against it?” Anne asked when the silence grew so dense it was almost touchable. “We could try and show him that thinking independently is no sin, but fun,” Hengist suggested. “That means we should take care of him?” Patience asked suspiciously. “Wasn’t that why Emerson sent us here together?” Anne retorted. “He’s a Slytherin, he’s an idiot, he’s Roland,” Patience pointed out unnecessarily. “And as long as we’re stuck in those old ways of thinking things will inevitably go bad,” Hengist retorted sharply. Patience frowned. “Listen, Hengist, I think your idea worth considering – but I do not like it, and you can’t honestly expect me to.”

Hengist nodded. “I know. I understand perfectly – I feel the same. But mightn’t it be worth a try?” “A try – yes. Success will be denied to us, though,” Anne predicted wisely. “Why are you so pessimistic?” Hengist asked angrily. “Because it is Roland we are talking about. We have tried to talk to him. We have tried to help him settle in – we’ve been turn down time and time again,” Anne reminded Hengist who deflated promptly. “Yes. True,” he muttered and ruffled his curls. “We have forgotten one thing, though,” Patience suddenly said. She looked actually relieved. “What, then?” Hengist asked her. Patience smiled. “We forgot that You-Know-Who is gone. Gone for good. He won’t come back, and Roland won’t be a Death Eater after all.” Anne and Hengist exchanged a glance. “She’s right,” Anne said matter-of-factly. “Yes. It’s highly unlikely we live to see You-Know-Who return,” Hengist agreed. “So no need to let our hero into our house more often than necessary,” Patience concluded happily.

The three of them were walking along the corridors of Oxford. They had walked that way for many times already. A door approached. Hengist had prepared to push the door open for the two girls. And so he did. “WAIT!” Anne suddenly shouted, grabbed Hengist’s arm and stopped him in midway. “Look at that.” She pointed at a round mark being attached to the glass door. The other glass door swung back and hit Hengist badly. “That’s a sign of the MOT.” Hengist helped.

“What is the MOT?” Patience wanted to know. “It’s the safety standards authority.” He explained. “What does MOT stand for then – judging from what I know about m… about people, I mean all abbreviations mean something.” Anne went on. Hengist frowned. “Actually, I don’t know.” He confessed. “You’re right, Anne, it should be SSA! Hengist, why isn’t it SSA?” Patience questioned the young man. “How should I know!” He complained and continued his way. “Maybe we’ll find something in the library.” Patience suggested. Anne nodded and since they were already on their way to the library it seemed like a perfect idea.

However, the library could not solve the mystery of the abbreviation. In the evening the two girls discussed the topic in front of the TV set eating popcorn as food for their brains. “M…O…T” Anne repeated thoughtfully. “How about Muggle Okay Test?” She suggested. Patience nodded. “Sounds okay to me.” She thought for a moment before she said: “Mechanical Order Trial.” Anne laughed. “Even better.” She decided. “What is he doing?” Patience asked pointing at the TV. Anne stared at the set. “He’s spreading honey on a sheet of paper.” She observed sceptically. “Do you think he’s going to eat it?” Patience said questioningly. “I hope not.”

Anne reached for another popcorn. “Master Organized This!” She suggested emphasizing each word with a gesture of the hand. Patience laughed. “But that would make no sense.” “Exactly.” Anne agreed. “Since when does anything muggles do make sense?” Just late enough to miss the word muggle, Lisa entered the room. “What are you doing?” She wanted to know and sat down next to them. “We’re hoovering, what did it look like?” Patience replied ironically. Lisa had just wanted to reach for the popcorn bowl when she jumped from her place instead. “Sorry, I thought you were watching TV. Don’t want to disturb you cleaning.” She left the room faster than she had entered it. Anne followed her with her eyes. “You know, you shouldn’t take her as the prototypical muggle.” Patience advised her. Patience’s and Anne’s attention returned to the program. “Do you think he would make a better prototype?” Anne asked pointing at the actor who not only stuck to the honey jug but also the piece of paper. Patience frowned. “Maybe you better exclude men from your scheme too.” She said thoughtfully. “Men Ordered This!” Anne exclaimed happily hoping to have found the true meaning of the abbreviation. “Rather: Beware! Men constructed and built this.” Patience carried on. They both laughed.

“Anne, your car isn’t working again.” Hengist stepped into the room and complained. She didn’t look at him. The man on TV now completely stuck to everything. “Anne, your car isn’t working again.” He repeated. She turned. “As usual.” She turned back. “But you said I could have it tonight.” He reminded her. “Well, you can have it.” She assured him. “It isn’t working.” He said unnerved. “I didn’t tell you it would, did I?” She replied. “Can you help  me to make it work again?” He begged. “I don’t know anything about cars.” She answered. “But you bought this book on cars. C’mon, help me.” He urged her. Anne gave in. She fetched the book and accompanied Hengist downstairs. Some urgent unpostponeable newsbreak interrupted the program, most probably to tell that Queen Anne was dead. Patience went to see how her two friends succeeded.

“This is a magical book!” Hengist told Anne. “What’s wrong, you keep telling me things I already know.” She retorted. “But you cannot use a magical book in the muggle world.” Hengist tried to remind her. “Be happy that I don’t make it work by magic” She spat. “Maybe it isn’t such a bad idea to give the book a try. Nobody is ever around anyway, let’s see the book.” Patience took it from Hengist. “‘Gilderoy Lockhart’s Crisis with Cars and how to solve them’. Well, that sounds promising.” She decided. She opened the book and was welcomed by a smiling Gilderoy Lockhart.

“A very warm welcome to you, charming young princess…” “I am no princess.” Patience interrupted him. “Yeah, well, never mind. May I introduce you to your car counsellor, a brave man who has gathered deeds like others tickets, two times winner of Witch’s Weekly Most Charming Smile Award – mind you, might be more by now – err, you don’t happen to know anything about this, do you?” “I’m sorry, no.” He looked rather disappointed. “And author of so many valuable volumes like ‘Trouble with Tea: a never erring guide to the planting, growing, drying, brewing and drinking of tea’ – do you know it by any chance?” “No.” “Well, nobody is perfect, except, of course, your host and author of this fantastical book: me!”

“Could you stop talking to the book and return to help us?” Hengist spat. He and Anne had opened the bonnet and up to now had pretended to know what they were doing. “It’s not my fault, he’s quite – err – talkative.” Patience apologized and made Mr. Lockhart rather angry. “Though I doubt that you will appreciate my advice I will give it to you. What’s the problem?” He asked in an arrogant, pretending to be kindly, way. Hengist approached him. “The problem is that the car doesn’t work.” He shouted. Mr. Lockhart drew back. “I see, we don’t have the slightest idea about cars.” Mr. Lockhart snapped back. He straightened his suit and checked if his hair was still in order. Anne had joined them. “Will he say more or was that it?” Hengist remarked angrily. “Well, you were not exactly kind to him.” Anne observed and softly pushed him aside. “Excuse me – err –“ She had to check the cover of the book and by that caused Mr. Lockhart to almost fall out of the page. “Mr. Lockhart – ouh, where has he gone?” He returned – slightly dishevelled. “Ah, Mr. Lockhart, there you are. The problem is that the car doesn’t start. Can you help us?” She asked in the kindest way possible for her. “Of course, I can help you – or else I wouldn’t have written this breathtaking book and – mind you – you don’t repair cars by a smile alone.” He smiled or rather produced what he thought to be a smile.

“First, you have to test the battery. One has to get into the car, the other has to take a spanner and touch the contact of the battery with it.” “And now?” Hengist asked when they had done what they had been told. “Start the car!” Mr. Lockhart ordered. Anne did so. They heard a loud noise and Hengist fell on the ground like dead. Patience dropped the book and Anne jumped out of the car to look after him. He was still alive and not really injured. Slowly he got up again. He felt a little weak. “I will finish him off…” He whispered and approached the book. Mr. Lockhart was busy removing the dirt from his clothes, face and hair. “I got an electric shock!” He shouted angrily. “Now we know at least that the battery is working.” He only commented. “I’ll kill him, don’t hold me back, I’ll kill him.” Mr. Lockhart not used to facing so much violence decided for a strategic withdrawal and disappeared.

“Maybe he’ll come back.” Patience mused looking at the open book. “No, he won’t.” A voice was heard from the inside of the book.  “I fear he will be gone for good.” Anne sighed picking up the volume. She blew away the dust from the open pages, then closed the book and brushed away the remaining dirt. “That damn Mr. Lockhart!” Hengist sat down on Anne’s car. She approached him. “And that damn car of yours!” He kicked it on the plate. “Hey, careful!” Anne warned him. She put the book next to Hengist and examined if the plate was damaged. “Look at that!” She exclaimed brushing with her sleeve over the plate. “I couldn’t have damaged it, Anne…” Hengist defended himself. “It can’t be anything that will not be repaired with one wave of a wand.” Patience helped. “No, no, this sign, it’s the MOT sign, they have been here!” Hengist laughed. “Oh, Anne, they don’t come to you, you must go to them!” He explained. “You mean the people from university went to the MOT with the door in one hand and it’s frame in the other?” Patience asked in disbelieve.

Hengist laughed again. “No, it’s alright with the door, they will come to see a door – or anything you cannot move, however, cars and anything else you can move you must take there.” He explained. “Anything?” Patience asked. “How often? Just once or every other day?” Anne wanted to know. Hengist shook his head. “It’s not like that. Just important things like doors and cars and trains and things like that. Technical things and most of them are only controlled once to ensure that they are not dangerous and working the way they should.” “I told you muggles were strange.” Anne replied turning to Patience. She had gotten up and took her book. She opened it. “Still gone.” She observed. Hengist sighed: “Damn Lockhart, damn book and damn car!” He returned to his seat on the bonnet. Anne sat down behind the steering wheel.

Patience joined Hengist. She put her arm around his shoulder: “Mystics Of Technics.” At that moment Anne started the car. Hengist jumped up. “How did you do that?” He exclaimed in disbelief. “Magic Of Technics.” She only commented. “Anne you didn’t…” He exclaimed. “Yes, I did, so what!” She replied. “We are not supposed to do magic!” Patience reminded her friend. Hengist lost his nerves. “HAVEN’T YOU LEARNED ANYTHING? NO, I WON’T DISCUSS IT WITH YOU NOW. BACK TO OUR ROOM!” He ordered. Anne turned off the car and locked it. Together they returned to their room.

“Now we will change our daily behaviour: No more talking about magic, muggles, witches and wizards or anything related to our world! Don’t interrupt me! You will pay for all slips of your tongue.” He produced a box – nobody could prove it but it seemed that it appeared by magic, however, no word was lost about it. “You will pay one pound for each word you shouldn’t say.” He decided. Anne scratched her head. “To make it more clear to your mind you will pay for today’s words. Now Anne, you used ‘muggles’ ones and ‘magic’ twice, three pounds from you! And Patience, you said ‘wand’ and ‘magic’, that makes two pounds from you.” He calculated. The two girls paid. Hengist looked rather satisfied. Patience cleared her throat. “What?” Hengist asked. “Well, you used some forbidden words yourself, you said ‘magical’ and ‘muggle’…” She reminded him. “He used ‘magical’ twice.” Anne added. There was no way around it. Hengist had to pay three pounds himself.

The next morning Patience woke up and her first thought was MOT Still she could not see why the abbreviation was MOT instead of SSA. Suddenly it occurred to her. It must be a word like O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. at Hogwarts. She looked up the word ‘mot’ in her dictionary when Anne entered the kitchen. “Morning!” She greeted her. “Mote.” Patience said thoughtfully. And then she added: “Moth.” “Hey don’t make me suffer from your bad temper!” Anne complained mockingly. “What?” Patience looked up. “Oh, good morning, I didn’t hear you coming.” She explained. “What are you doing anyway?” She asked. “I looked up the word MOT or rather would have, it doesn’t exist according to this.”

Anne thought about this for a moment. “Maybe it is Latin.” She looked it up. “No, there’s no Latin word ‘mot’ either.” “Maybe it’s French!” Patience suggested and indeed there existed a French word ‘mot’ meaning ‘word’. “That can’t be it!” Anne decided and Patience agreed. “Mad Of Trying.” Patience concluded and summarized the state of being the two girls were approaching. Anne was sure Patience was right this time. “Do you think we should give up before we turn ‘Mad Of Trying’?” Anne asked. Patience nodded. Anne sighed. “We will never find out! Oh, I have to go and buy some rolls for breakfast.” She checked her watch. “Yeah, just about time to go.”

“HENGIST! HENGIST!” She shouted when she returned. “HENGIST!” “What is it and where are the rolls?” He asked. “Forget the rolls. I have something much more important.” She sat down and took a breath. She leaned forward and started whispering. “I have seen the sign again.” She made a dramatic pause. “It was attached to a…” Conspicuously she looked left and right before she continued, “…dog.” Patience stared at her. “But a dog is nothing technical!” She exclaimed. “Exactly!” Anne agreed and turned towards Hengist. “What do you say?” Hengist shook his head. “I say you have gone mad, both of you, I will go and buy myself some rolls now.” “But the dog!” Anne shouted after him. “The dog’s plate showed the date of some immunisation he got – and now I never want to hear another word of the M.O.T.” He closed the door violently.

“It’s raining,” Anne stated glumly. “Pouring,” Patience corrected. At that moment the door opened and admitted a soaked Lisa. “It’s raining cats and dogs,” she said and shook her long mane. Little droplets of water flew everywhere. “Watch it! You’re spraying my essay!” Hengist complained. “That essay is boring anyway,” Lisa laughed. “Listen, seems none of us is going out tonight. Shall we do something together?” The Magpies exchanged surprised glances. “We?” Anne asked. “Together?” Patience added. Lisa grinned. “we, together, in this room, for the next few hours.” “Great idea,” Hengist decided. He glared at Anne and Patience who quickly chorused: “Sure, super!” “What about playing a game?” Lisa suggested. “How about Wi… how about Chess?” Anne retorted. “No, not chess,” Lisa answered. Hengist mouthed ‘One pound’ and Anne groaned. This stupid rule of paying for each slip of the tongue! “Patience, what would you like to play?” Lisa asked. Patience was at a loss. Should she suggest Gobstones? Or rather Exploding Snap? But either would earn her a penalty fee. She shrugged. “I don’t know many games,” she admitted. “Why not play ‘monopoly’?” Hengist threw in. “Oh, good, I’ll fetch it!” Lisa beamed and ran upstairs.

“What is Monopoly?” Patience asked concerned. “It’s a lot like playing with Chocolate Frog Cards: the one with the most cards is likely to win,” Hengist explained. “Do I need my Chocolate Frog Cards?” Patience wanted to know. “Don’t you dare!” Hengist exclaimed. “But if it’s like swapping cards…” “Patience Wood, shut up, I’ll explain the rules,” Hengist sharply told her. Lisa came back with a box. Anne cleared the table. They placed the board on the table. ”Oh, you can buy something – there’s money!” Anne said. “That’s not real money,” Lisa grinned. “Oh, of course not – we know,” Anne hurried to say. Hengist’s eyebrows rose in warning. “So you two don’t know Monopoly?” Lisa enquired. “No,” Patience answered. “Odd. Okay, then choose a colour, alright? Hengist and me will explain the rules to you,” Lisa said, picking the red stone for herself. Anne chose blue, Hengist green, and to the other Magpies’ surprise Patience chose black.

“The rules, ladies,” Hengist began. “Everyone gets a certain amount of fake money.” He quickly gave the three their money, hoping that Anne and Patience would keep in mind it was no actual money. For all he knew, they were able to mix them up with Muggle money – wizards had only coins, so the bills were totally unfamiliar to them. “with that money, you can buy the streets, the stations, the electricity and water operators and the houses. And if you have to pay fees, well, the better for the others,” Lisa explained. “Everyone who passes the starting point receives money. Any street not yet sold is available, prices are on display on the board. If you own all the streets of one colour, you can build houses. This raises the fees for the unfortunate ones to visit your streets. There are also adventure and occasion cards. If you hit the fields saying that, it can be good – but it also can be bad. Oh, and this,” Hengist pointed, “is the prison. If you hit the field over there, you’re n prison. Got it?” Anne nodded. “Well, we can always ask,” Patience grinned.

They began by throwing the dice to find out who should begin. Lisa was lucky and could buy the first street. “Er… the money,” Patience said when it was her turn to buy a street. “Yes?” Hengist asked. “Do the colours of the bills have to be the same as the streets?” “No! Just count the money and pay,” Lisa laughed. “oh. Right.” Still Patience was at a loss until a discreet hint from Hengist made her see the concept of printing numbers on bills. Patience thought that this was exactly why they always sent Hengist to pay for their shopping. “So the colours aren’t important, just the numbers,” Anne whispered. Hengist nodded, but as his eyebrows had nearly vanished beneath his fringe, the girls understood that every further question had to wait until there was no Muggle around. Lisa and Hengist clearly had an advantage, but Anne soon caught up.

Patience, however, decided she would play according to the Olympic Spirit: being there was more important than winning. “You’ll never be a business success,” Lisa teased her. “I have other qualities,” Patience laughed. “You’re more the academic type, of course,” Lisa admitted. “The academic lady has to pay – welcome to my hotel,” Hengist smugly said. “But I’ve got no more money!” Patience said. “Take a loan,” Lisa suggested. “Sell your streets,” Anne added. “That’s not enough,” Hengist sighed. He had helped Patience to count. “well, you had to build a hotel in the most expensive street – and I had to land there,” Patience laughed. “And now I can watch you struggle on!”

That was exactly what happened: the other three were struggling on. Hengist landed himself in prison twice and finally had to sell all of his houses. Consequently, his funds began to dissolve. “Sell me your blue streets, c’mon,” Lisa cooed. Hengist groaned. “If I do that you hold the whole front.” “That’s why the game is called Monopoly,” Lisa countered. So after a few more moves, the game was only between Anne an Lisa. Patience went to the kitchen to fetch some food.

When she returned, Lisa was just selling her stations. “Hurray, I’m winning,” Anne boasted. “I wouldn’t be that sure,” Hengist warned. He had played games like this one, going on forever and in the end with the designated loser winning. This could be one of those games. Anne still triumphed, but steadily Lisa gained ground again. It took another hour until the game was over. Patience had long before taken up a book, and even Hengist’s gaze was unfocused. “Ha!” Lisa exclaimed. Patience dropped her book. “You won?” she asked. Hengist quickly checked the board. “No. She lost – Anne is the winner!” Anne beamed. It was so good to know that thinking logically could help defeating anyone, even if you didn’t know the rules very well. Lisa stretched and yawned. “That was really great, Anne. You must teach me chess, I bet even that boring grandfather game will be interesting if we play against each other.” She got up. “I’ll go to bed, folks. Night!” “Good night, and thanks for suggesting that monopoly-evening,” Anne replied, sounding much more friendly than ever: usually she snapped at the Muggle. Lisa grinned and went upstairs.

“A cool game,” Anne stated. “It’s nothing I like that much,” Patience confessed. “That’s only because you were rubbish,” Hengist said knowingly. “Not, it’s just boring,” Patience protested. “Just like Quidditch is to me,” Anne thought aloud. “Oh, honestly! There’s no comparison in those two games. You don’t have to deal with coloured paper scrapes supposed to be money in Quidditch!” Patience said angrily. “Peace, girls!” Hengist quickly called. They turned to him. “Can we agree on this: Quidditch is a sport, Monopoly is a game and both have their merits?” he asked. “Alright,” Anne gave in. Patience nodded. “Then, good night,” Hengist yawned. Soon after he had left, a went upstairs as well.

Patience waited until the house was quiet except for the soft steps of Bethesda. Then she took the box containing Monopoly. She opened the lid and pondered for a moment what to do. She took out the bills and grinned evilly. What is she mixed up the colours? Or, even better, the numbers? Or should she bewitch the stones? Just when she had decided on changing numbers, she remembered something Emerson Dicket had told them: “Never mess with Muggle artefacts! Never! If you do it, you risk heavy punishment. You could end yourselves up in Azkaban – and I swear those Dementors are not to be trifled with.” Patience considered for a moment, then closed the box again. It was not worth it.

Lisa came down the stairs, wearing her training clothes and sneakers, her blonde hair pulled up into a pony tail. “Hey you, have you seen my walkman?” she asked Patience and Anne who were playing Muggle chess. Patience was even less successful at that game than at Wizard’s Chess, mainly because Muggle pawns did not try to help her. “No,” Anne replied and moved her bishop towards Patience’s queen. “Oh damn it,” Lisa said forcefully. “I hate jogging without my walkman.” But she left nevertheless. Patience frowned. “What’s her walkman?” she asked. Anne shrugged. “Who cares?” She moved her own queen and set Patience checkmate.

“Yes, you’ve won – again,” Patience sighed and rose. She looked out of the window. Lisa was already running along the far end of the street. “I wonder why she needs a walking man beside her to jog,” Patience mused. Anne grinned. “Lisa needs men for everything she does, I guess.” “Yes, but she is running, isn’t she?” Patience pointed out. Anne did not quite grasp her meaning. “And?” “And she wanted a walking man. What’s the use of a man walking after you when you’re running?” Patience wanted to know.

Anne shrugged. “I have no idea – and actually, I’m not particularly interested in Lisa’s habits.” Patience, however, could not help thinking about Lisa needing a walking man for her jogging. Maybe, Patience thought, such a walking man was a kind of pacemaker, supporting her and telling her when to slow down and when to accelerate. But then it would have been a running man, wouldn’t it? Patience was thoroughly bewildered.

By the time Hengist came home from the library, she was fit to burst. Hengist hardly had a chance to take off his jacket before Patience came upon him: “What is a walking man?” “Hello Patience, and how are you?” Hengist replied with a grin. “What do Muggles need a walking man for?” Patience persisted. Hengist blinked. “Well, maybe to walk with him? I’ve no idea what you are talking of.” “Lisa has one, and she needs him to go jogging with her,” Patience explained.

Hengist grinned and ruffled his curls. “Actually, Lisa has so many men I don’t doubt she has a walking one. Maybe you had better start jogging yourself, Patience, if you’re so curious about Lisa’s men.” Patience coloured deeply. “I am not trying to spy on her,” she said huffily and turned around. Hengist seized her elbow. “Listen, baby girl, I didn’t mean to…” “And don’t you call me baby girl,” Patience cut into his words, now really furious. “Did you find out about the walk man, Cutey?” Anne called from the living room. It was too much for Patience. “You are so mean, you two,” she said, her lips quivering, and fled through the living room and up the stairs towards her own room.

“What did you do?” Anne asked Hengist in an accusatory tone. “Oh come off it, Anne, I didn’t do anything at all,” Hengist waved it off. “She asked about Lisa’s men and I teased her and – oh, well, you know what a right little pain in the proverbial Patience can be at times.” Anne nodded, although she had the nagging feeling that this was a betrayal of Patience. However, it was true Patience could be a downright bitch if she wanted to.

Suddenly Hengist remembered something else Anne had said, and comprehension dawned on him. “What did you say Patience wanted to ask about?” he asked. Anne shrugged. “Lisa’s walk man,” she replied and grinned. “Do you know him?” “Oh yes I think I do,” Hengist laughed. “Wait a second.” He dashed upstairs, and Anne could hear him rummaging in the chest of drawers the four housemates shared. Then there were three loud bangs at Patience’s door and Hengist called: “Come out and stop sulking, I’ve got the walking man for you.”

Hengist could not have waited for Patience to answer, as fast as he was back downstairs. “She’ll come,” he predicted, and indeed Patience appeared, still looking offended but also definitely curious. She looked around in the living room. “There is no man,” she said and made as if she wanted to go upstairs again. Hengist grinned and placed a black square thing on the table. “Yes, there is. That’s a walkman.”

Anne and Patience stared at the black thing on the table. “No way,” Anne voiced what both thought. “Muggles, my dear girls, call this device a walkman. It is used to play cassettes, and as you can carry it around walking, they dubbed it walkman,” Hengist explained patiently. “She wanted to have music?” Patience asked. “So nobody runs with her?” “I wouldn’t go that far, but when she asked you, she meant that,” Hengist assured his friends.

One day Patience returned from her history course with a very bad mood. She slammed her door without even greeting Anne and Hengist in their respective rooms. “Anne?”, Hengist called over. “What?”, she yelled back. “Who does it this time?” “You. She’s not going to listen to me anyway”, Anne decided. Hengist grinned and got up slowly. “You owe me one, then”, he told Anne. Anne shrugged. “She’s simply unbearable these past weeks. I’m sick of telling her things over and over again.” Hengist looked at her as if to say “What do you think I am?”, but nevertheless knocked gently on Patience’s door. No answer came. Hengist tried the doorknob. Nothing. She had locked herself in. “Okay. I’m coming in. No muggle in sight!” That was necessary to add, because Hengist was going to use magic. The Alohomora-charm always worked.

Patience was lying on her bed with a teddy in her arms. She looked utterly miserable. Hengist sat down in the armchair next to her bed. “What has happened, my little one?”, he gently asked. “Nothing”, was the sullen answer. “This is just nonsense. Patience, I know you very well, and… Wait a second! It is true! Nothing has happened and therefore you are depressed.” “Depressed? Come off it, Hengist, I’m devastated!”, Patience told her friend. “Dramatic sense you’ve always had, but this might be too much. What exactly has happened? And no evasions this time!” Hengist crossed his legs and waited for the confessions to come. “I am just stupid, that’s all. How could I think it was more than mere friendship? I’m a loser in everything concerning love! Only the dull people love me. Remember John King? Seen that stupid first semester?” Patience mistreated the teddy. “Aha. Only the dull people. Counted David Bantam?” Patience blushed. “That was a kind of weird thing, because I didn’t love him”, she whispered.

“Okay. You are able to tell men off, but to be told off yourself you cannot bear.” Hengist leaned forward and took a strand of Patience’s hair, twisting it a bit. “You are sometimes a little hypocrite, but, well, I guess I’m the same. Who is the object of your admiration now?” “Daniel Rutherford”, Patience confessed in a low voice. Hengist choked. “Daniel? Oh dear! This might really be a problem!” “You know how he treated me at the party, and that he always smiles when he sees me and that we always talk so pleasantly. And then he invited me to some things and he promised to come with me to some other events – which never happened, mind you!” “And now you think he’s not interested”, Hengist thoughtfully stated. He ruffled his curls as he always did when he was puzzled. “Well, that’s so damn difficult, I don’t know what to tell you. He’s certainly not indifferent. He wouldn’t treat you so nicely if he were. But then… He doesn’t seem to know his own wishes. I can’t talk to him, though.” “He and the other men I fancied!”, Patience bitterly exclaimed.

She sat up, tightening her shirt and looking down. “What is it? Am I ugly? Silly? What?” She had almost shouted. In consequence, passing Lisa had heard her and opened the door. “No. You’re neither silly nor ugly, and that will be the only compliment you ever receive from me”, the muggle housemate calmly said. “But you are a little behind in what concerns love. You simply have no notion at all how to behave and what to do. You do not even have the slightest feeling for when it’s the right time for confessions.” Lisa smiled sadly. “You’re too cool and intellectual, and men fear that.” Hengist stared at her. “And your success depends on your stupid little conversations?”, he asked carefully. “Of course. Nobody feels threatened when I’m around.” Hengist could have easily told her that she was wrong but kept silent. “You cannot even flirt!”, Lisa laughed, a bit of pity in her voice.

Patience’s eyes were fiery by now. “This is just so stupid! I’m an intelligent w… woman, and that should be my fault?”, she asked, her voice edging on something not to be defined. Hengist waited. “Lisa, go back to keeping men as pets and have one new each weekend. That’s not my style, that’s not my world, and before I sink so low I’ll be unmarried to the end of my life!” Lisa fled. Hengist slowly applauded. “That wasn’t bad, lil, that wasn’t bad. Okay. I hope you believe in your own words. Whoever it is, he isn’t worth your giving up yourself.” Hengist embraced Patience tightly. “And if you are unmarried, I’ll be, too, and we could have a house together!”, he cheerfully added. Patience giggled and got up. “What would I do without you?”

As Roland Banks had not been one of Emerson’s special cases (although Dicket chose to keep an eye on the boy), he had no instructions whatsoever of which classes to do. So it was lucky that Patience had no class with him - or so she thought. Hengist, Anne and she had a particularly crowded seminar about Jane Austen. Suddenly somebody hissed from behind the three friends, “Wormwood!” Patience’s back stiffened.

The hiss she had heard was exactly what she had hoped she’d be free from- for this one seminar at least. But, no, she was not free of Banks, and he kept hissing insults. Patience slowly moved her pen in his direction and was about to whisper a jinx when Hengist kicked her hard under the table. ”Ouch!” she said under her breath, looking furiously at Hengist. “Don’t go jinxing Banks in here, wait till we’re outside,” Hengist mouthed. Patience pouted but succumbed. “By the way, what were you going to do to him?” “Just a little jinx to make his face be covered in nice boils,” Patience answered, smiling.

Hengist thought for a moment, then turned slightly and Patience saw he had his wand (which he had not bothered to Transfigure) in his hand. Patience did not stop him, she was much too curious to see what Hengist had in mind. “Evanesco”, he muttered. Patience clapped her hands in front of her mouth when Banks stared at his suddenly empty desk. “Wow, Hengist, that was worth waiting!” Patience applauded. Hengist grinned. “I just didn’t want you to get at him - it was my turn!” They broke into a fit of giggles that made the professor look up and scowl. Anne, having been scribbling away, looked up at her friends, frowning.

Patience mouthed, “Banks!” and Anne carefully turned. “Oooh, he seems to look for something!” Anne was delighted – but not for long. After the seminar had ended, the Malignant Magpies left the room only to face a fuming Banks. “Woodlouse! That was you!” he spluttered. Patience raised her eyebrows. “No,” she said calmly. Banks’ face seemed to swell. Anne wondered how long it would take to make him collapse – or make his head explode.

Shopping at Oxford always was an exciting thing to do. Hengist dreaded the announcement they lacked anything, for it was usually up to him to take either Patience or Anne or even both with him to the shops. Of course, when it was Lisa’s turn, he rejoiced. But not today. “We need soap in the kitchen. Fluid soap,” Lisa told the Magpies when they were all sitting in the living-room doing their homework. “Aha. Go and fetch some,” Anne said distractedly. “It’s your turn,” Lisa pointed out. ”Besides, I have an appointment with Professor MacIntyre.” Patience looked up and grinned. “He’s married, with three children,” she remarked. “Why d’you say that?” Lisa looked so astonished that Anne rolled her eyes. “Because you look as if you’re about to seduce him,” she bluntly answered. Lisa blushed fiercely. “I’m not,” she said rather angrily. Hengist raised his eyebrows. “Hum,” he only muttered. Patience giggled. “Lisa, darling, maybe you should wear a coat over that skirt, it’s too cold outside.” Lisa shot her an offended glance. “I know what is good for myself. Don’t forget to buy the soap!” and with that Lisa went out, ‘accidentally’ slamming the door.

“Melodramatic,” Anne commented. “What does she want with MacIntyre anyway?” “I don’t know. MacIntyre teaches Shakespeare, and Lisa has never even heard of Shakespeare,” Patience thought aloud. “Now you’re being unfair. She has watched the Polanski-Macbeth with us,” Hengist reminded her. “Right you are. Well, I’m fed up with writing this essay,” Patience said, throwing down her papers. “What topic?” Anne asked. “Describe the effect of Cardinal Richelieu’s measures against the Huguenots. And that is something that Binns never told us about, for Richelieu and these boring Huguenots have never dealt with wizardry,” Patience groaned. “Then come, we’ll go shopping,” Hengist suggested. “I’ll come with you. The political theory of Rousseau isn’t that funny, you know,” Anne decided.

So the three of them set out to find fluid soap. “Can’t we just buy any soap and then make it fluid?” Patience asked. “No,” Hengist curtly answered. “Can we just buy any soap and then go home again, it’s awfully cold,” Anne complained. Indeed it was a crisp day. Autumn was definitely coming to an end, there were no leaves on the trees any longer and the wind smelled of coming snow. “Yes,” Hengist said, grinning. “Have you decided to talk to us only in monosyllables?” Patience teased him. He grinned. “Yes.” They all laughed and decided to have a hot chocolate before going on the hunt for soap. The café they turned into was pretty crowded. Most of the guests were students just as the Magpies, and soon they saw some they knew. It so happened that they talked for quite a while, until Patience looked at her watch and exclaimed: “We have to go, the shops’ll close soon!”

Hurriedly, the Magpies said goodbye, paid the bill (that is, Hengist paid the bill to avoid the girls being embarrassed by not finding the right coins) and went out into the dark afternoon streets. A slight drizzle greeted them. “Urgh,” Anne commented, nestling deeper into her warm coat. “You’re so right,” Patience agreed. Fortunately they soon found a shop selling soap – even fluid soap, and after a slight discussion about which fragrance would be best they decided for lily and went home again. “I wish we had a nice fireplace,” Patience sighed, looking at the boarded-up old fireplace longingly. “Don’t even think of blasting this open and lighting a fire,” Hengist warned her. ”Oh come on, just a bit to make it warm and cosy,” Patience pleaded. “Forget that – the chimney is most probably blocked as well and we’ll die of the smoke in here,” he replied.

Anne meanwhile had examined the soap closely. “Have a look at that,” she suddenly exclaimed. Both Patience and Hengist turned to her. “What? Did the soap turn into a crystal ball telling you when you will meet the man of your life?” Hengist asked amused. “No, it tells me how to use it.” “What?” Patience took the soap out of Anne’s hands and read aloud: “To use: Massage into hands under running water.” She looked at Hengist. “Excuse me, but even though I have never read any instructions on how to use soap, I’ve always done it the way they explain here.” “Are muggles really so stupid?” Anne asked. Hengist looked surprised. “I never noticed that there is something like that. I’ve no idea – but then, look at someone like Roland, he definitely needs instructions of how to use soap.” “No, he needs instructions about how to find soap,” Anne contradicted him. Hengist laughed. “Point taken. Shall we try and cook something?”

“Ladies and gentleman, next Saturday it’s Halloween,” Lisa said dramatically. “So what?” Hengist asked without looking up from his newspaper. “There’ll be a really great party at Linacre College. Shall we go there?” Hengist knew this was meant especially for him. “If Anne and Patience agree, sure,” he agreed innocently. Lisa bit her lip and shifted her weight a little. “Actually, I thought, just you and me,” she explained. Hengist nodded. “I did understand, Lisa. I’m sorry to say, I’m still not interested in you.” Lisa smiled impishly. “No doubt you will be once you’ve seen my costume,” she laughed and went into the kitchen. Hengist frowned. So this party was a costume party! He wondered how he should tell Anne and Patience.

It was easier than he had thought. Shortly after Lisa had left, the two came bursting into the living room, giggling like mad. “Hengist, we’ve seen chocolate pumpkins!” Anne reported and Patience nodded fervently. “And crisps shaped like ghosts – well, not real ghosts, mind you!” “So you’ve stumbled over Muggle Halloween goodies,” Hengist grinned. “That’s good. Tell you what – I’ll give you yet another lecture on the peculiarities of Muggle life.” He fetched his jacket and ushered his friends out of the door again. “But it’s wet and cold outside,” Patience protested. Hengist shrugged. “I’m taking you to a store, that’s warm and dry.”

And full – as it turned out once they had entered. People were obviously thinking that tomorrow all stores would be closed forever. Apparently, this thought made the customers behave like mad. “What’s wrong with them?” Anne enquired curiously. “Most are going to have parties at the weekend and need things for them,” Hengist guessed. “Parties? But why?” “Halloween, dear Patience,” Hengist grinned. Patience shook her head. “But that’s a magical holiday, isn’t it?” “Sure. People love a little scare sometimes, and they love parties, and most love behaving like children for one day in the year.” “Most do all the time,” Anne muttered. Hengist chose to ignore that remark. “Hang on – Patience said ‘magical’,” Anne suddenly said. Patience groaned. “That was perfectly normal in this conversation,” she defended herself. Hengist frowned. “Yes, for once that’s true. Mind you don’t use it again out of context.” Anne grinned only and they followed Hengist.

He led the way to the shelves containing sweets and crisps. As Patience and Anne had already seen, there were various sweets shaped like ghosts or bats or pumpkins. Most of the pumpkins looked decidedly weird, with huge toothy smiles and eyes with pupils. Patience took a bag of jellies shaped like bats. “I’ve never seen a bat with red wings,” she marvelled. “Nor with a green body,” Anne added. Hengist wordlessly held up a bag of jelly spiders. “Urgh,” shuddered Patience. “Yes, indeed,” Hengist agreed. “Alright, seen enough? That’s what children get when they go trick-or-treating.” “Go trick-or-treating? What does that mean?” Anne wanted to know. For once, Patience was better informed thanks to having grown up in a relatively normal Muggle village. “Children dress as anything from hag to princess to Robin Hood and go round the village, knocking at every door and asking for sweets. If they don’t get any, they’ll play a trick,” she explained. Hengist applauded her. “Take five points, Miss Wood.” “Okay. So we take some sweets to the party, and that’s it?” Anne asked, choosing a bag of ghost-shaped crisps.

Hengist was strangely busy choosing some nuts until Patience nudged him gently. “Anne asked you something,” she reminded him. Hengist straightened up, his face red. “Not exactly,” he confessed. “We have to dress up, too.” “What?” Anne was not pleased by these news. Patience sighed deeply. “As what?” “I thought we did the witches of Macbeth and, well, Macbeth,” Hengist suggested. “Ah. But there are 3 witches in the play, professor,” Patience pointed out. “Yes. Lisa is the third witch.” “No,” Anne declared at once. “Yes,” Hengist contradicted her.

 It turned out that Hengist had indeed had the final word. They did dress up as Macbeth and the three witches, complete with wands. Lisa’s was a fake wand, but Patience and Anne carried their real ones. Hengist had pocketed his, too, ‘just in case’. They arrived at Linacre and found the hall crowded already. A Spider-woman greeted them and told them to place the sweets on a table at the far end of the hall. Fighting their way through chatting cats, hags, devils, knights and princesses, they made it. Lisa was happy to be involved in the costume scheme. Nevertheless, once she spotted some nice guy, she went to him, leaving the Magpies to themselves. “Why did she have to be third witch?” Patience asked. “Because I didn’t want her to be a nurse in an extremely short skirt or something like that,” Hengist said sensibly and fetched three glasses for them. “They call it blood wine,” he reported. “But it’s actually just red grape juice.”

The party wasn’t all that bad – until midnight came. Suddenly the lights went out, and the doors burst open to admit a crowd of witches and wizards, wands held in front of them. “All of you who dare to fight us – stand up!” roared the wizard in front. He looked like a much younger Dumbledore, with a long beard and tall pointed hat. Anne grabbed her wand. “I will fight you!” she cried before her friends could stop her. “Anne – no,” Patience hissed, but it was too late. “Then come here – form a circle,” the wizard commanded, and guests and newcomers alike obeyed. Anne strode forward confidently. The wizard bowed and raised his wand. Anne did the same, waiting for the opponent’s spell. The wizard opened his mouth and cried: “Abraka…” But he did not get any further. Anne shouted: “Rictusempra!” The wizard rolled laughing on the floor. “He tried to use the killing curse!” Patience shrieked and fetched her wand, too, pointing at the laughing, helpless wizard, then at his companions. “If any of you tries that again…” she threatened.

But there was pure panic in the faces around her. “He… is he alright?” asked a cat with trembling voice. “What did you do to him?” a clown wanted to know. Suddenly Patience realized what had happened. Those magical people weren’t magical at all. She lowered her wand and laughed. “Nothing. Get up!” she said. Muttering “Finite Incantato” under her breath, she helped the wizard to his feet. The tension released and everyone started to laugh. “That was really cool, Joe,” someone said and thumped the wizard on the back. “Yeah, really cool,” echoed the cat and smiled. “It looked damned real, mate,” the clown roared. “Blood wine for all of us!” the wizard demanded in a steadier voice. He looked at Anne. “How exactly did you do that?” he asked suspiciously. Anne shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it?” “Yes. Thanks to you this will have been the most spectacular Halloween party in the history of Linacre College – nay, in the history of Oxford University!”

 Lisa could talk of nothing else but the exciting duel between Anne and the wizard. Hengist, sensing that Emerson would pop up soon, sent her away into her bedroom, saying she looked so tired and did she want puffy red eyes in the morning. Indeed Emerson was sitting at the kitchen table, with a face that looked as if he had just been to his own burial. “It was a misunderstanding,” Hengist said at once. Emerson groaned. ”Yes, a misunderstanding – folks, how can I try to keep you under cover when you insist on doing spells?” “But he dared us to fight against him in a wizard’s duel,” Patience explained. “He was a fake wizard. For Merlin’s sake, it is Halloween, and Muggles dress up. They know it’s a magical holiday!” “So we should have known some would dress up as magical people,” Anne concluded gloomily. “Alright, chuck me out.”

Emerson stared at her. “That was never my intention.” “Then what? A detention?” Anne asked. “Exactly. A detention. You are going to write a nice long essay on the roots of Halloween and the way Muggles celebrate it. Due on Thursday next week.” Emerson rubbed his hands. “And now, would you mind giving me a cup of tea?”

I don’t know why Muggle Catholics have to see the devil in everything magical – hello, guys, ever thought about all the saints and their wonders?! I’m a witch, but I’m also a Catholic – I still love Halloween. However, my task is not arguing against superstition and prejudice but describing how Halloween, according to Muggles, came to be what it is today. We witches and wizards KNOW that it has always been OUR holiday.

1.      Celtic Origins

That’s where Muggles see the beginning of Halloween. It’s a Celtic holiday, in fact, the highest of the year. It was called Samhuin. This word means ‘end of summer’ or ‘beginning of winter’, you can choose. It was the first night of the new year – and yes, witches and wizards kept this date as New Year’s Night until the 18^th century!!! I was told that some remote mountain communities still celebrate New Year on November 1^st rather than December 31^st. Well, back to the Celts: they had to participate in the festival, as it seems. If they didn’t turn up, they turned mad. Nice choice – I say: party on! The thing is, in this night the living and the dead meet – and if you think closely, fellow Hogwarts-alumni, you know that Halloween is Nick’s Deathday. Still the living an the dead meet. Halloween, fellows, is also still a night when Dark Powers get full power. In Ireland, the fairy hills open and the dead come out – or the living go in, both is fine. The realms meet and mingle, you see. Maybe that is why Muggles still think ghosts a vital part of Halloween.

2.      Early Christians

That is also why Christians had an uneasy time at Samhuin. But happily the church found a way to make it a nice, Christian holiday. They simply said that the dead were not simply any dead, but all the saints. Those are there that day, all of them present, blessing the land, and those Celtic ghosts are devils. Yes… Thing is, the people lay on their knees and prayed all night. That was a Halloween, eh?

3.      Americanization

And out of all this cultural mess, the Americans made a holiday for children! Honestly, that’s the worst thing to do. Children dress up as everything from astronaut to zookeeper. Then they walk from door to door and demand sweets. If they don’t get any, they’ll play a trick. Urgh. In GB, this nice ‘tradition’ has also rooted down.

There’s also the need for scare. So there are horror films shown everywhere, and people dress like monsters, place ‘scary’ animals like spiders or bats everywhere and make pumpkins look ‘scary’ by cutting grinning faces out of them and placing a candle into their middle. Not remotely frightening – but actually a copy of our magical traditions. Seems as if some Muggle-born child told its parents about the Halloween-feast at Hogwarts, and from that day on, Muggles began to copy us.

Alright, now: Emerson – please give me another detention next time. This was not really fun! Anne.

Dear Diary, we’ve been at Oxford for some months now and it is great fun! It is a pity, though, to have Banks still hanging around, and everyone thinking we should be happy to have him there – everyone is Daniel, for your information – isn’t he gorgeous? But blind… Gosh, I’m not good at sticking to one point. That’s what our professor in medieval history says as well… So he’s right. Why are all wise men right – especially in things I don’t like? However, something very strange happened at the venerable college of Christ Church, in the chapel of St Frideswyde. You know, dear diary, there is the massive stone tomb in which the remains of good old Fridy are supposed to rest in peace.

However, Banks said loudly on the corridor that nobody would dare to go there by midnight. Muggles are sweet in that respect, they think the dead come back by night. Honestly! As if they could. Well, we heard him and we told him that we’d do it, no problem. Others around us sniggered and there were bets that Anne and me would freak out anyway. ‘Ghosts scare little girls away’, one boy sneered. I almost told him that after seeing Nick take off his head nothing would ever shock me in a ghost. But I’m not allowed to – dear old Hogwarts – I’ll see you again Saturday at Quidditch. Yeah! Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw – Ravenclaw is doomed to lose. Again I’ve lost my point. Okay, we, the Magpies, were promising to spend a night at the Cathedral. So we took some nice woollen blankets and cushions and books and walked to the Cathedral.

For sure the other students wondered how we got in there. Why, for Muggles this would have been impossible, but with the little Alohomora-spell – here we go! Of course we had to be watched by witnesses. Banks came a bit later than we did, accompanied by a big bullying bloke called Havers. He’s about as stupid as Banks himself, but broader in the shoulders. Come to think of it, he’s rather like Cook. Cookie Monster Cook, what might he be doing right now? Most probably drinking beer at a pub and boasting about something. We did nothing of the like. We sat on the church bench and looked at the windows. There’s one depicting the murder of Thomas Beckett. I began to tell the story, okay, not the real story, I made it more interesting, and soon enough Havers snored gently. Anne and Hengist got up and walked around, and I was left with Banks. Can you believe it? He came closer and began to talk to me. I was disgusted. He began by asking me how I liked Oxford. That took me quite by surprise. ‘Fine.’ ‘And how do you like classes?’ ‘They’re okay.’ ‘And how do you like being surrounded by’ – a look to Havers the Sleeping Ugliness - ‘Muggles?’ ‘I’ve no problem with that.’

And then Banks began to tell me he had grown up somewhere in the country, on a farm, with no neighbours. Banks a farm boy? Before I believe that, I rather believe You-Know-Who has been an angel. Banks had no contact to non-magic folk. I said: ‘I’ve grown up in a village, with loads of muggles everywhere.’ It was the wrong thing to say – or the wrong tone? Anyway he sat bold upright. ‘Then I wonder why you made such blunders – here and in Dicket’s classes.’ I was offended. Okay, I sometimes do say ‘leviator’ but that’s a slip of tongue. I know it should be… something else. I told Banks to shut up and began to read. But no, the great oaf went on talking! ‘I always wanted to make friends with you.’ I stared at him. ‘Go and see a psychiatrist,’ I told him. But he insisted on really liking us, the Magpies, and that we had been much cooler and braver than his cronies. That was when I understood: Poor ickle Banksy was lonely. All his talking about having been at an elite school and sporting a nice tie, all his boasting about what a genius he was did not help him. He’s doomed to be recognized as an idiot at first sight. It was by now well past eleven p.m., and Havers’ snores were filling the old walls.

Anne and Hengist had returned from their stroll around the cathedral and sat down, preventing (thank you both, thanks soooo much) Banks going on with his sentimental talks – I wonder if he would have gone so far to tell me he was actually in love with any of us three! Then it happened. Out of the tomb rose something very like pearly mist, a young girl stared at us with wide eyes. “Who are you?” she asked. Banks shrieked like a girl, waking Havers, who went pale. Thing is, Banks had his wand out, and was crying something very like ‘Petrificus Totalus’. Havers looked stunned (no, the spell didn’t go into the opposite direction), and the nice little wooden statue of some saint was blasted apart by the spell. ‘What was that?’ Havers asked, now distracted from the fact that a ghost had just risen from a tomb. ‘Accident?’ I feebly suggested, but it was no good. Anne took charge of the situation. I had my wand as well at the ready, but… No use in having Havers see all of us doing magic. Besides, the Ministry’s going to be on our heels if we do. Well, Anne repaired the statue and then turned to Havers and Banks. ‘Wand away, Banks,’ she said coldly. Banks obeyed (I wonder why) and Anne modified Havers’ memory. Hengist went forward, bowing to the girl. ‘We are here to prove that you, the ghost of St Frideswyde, do exist. Lady, we are honoured by your presence.’ Oh, the boy does know how to talk to people. I’m sometimes so proud of him.

The ghost was impressed. “I usually talk to my friends from the college at night, but you are welcome.” Havers was shaking with fear, while Banks had regained his composure. A bit late for a former Hogwarts pupil, I must say. From the college, the bells tolled midnight, and in came the ghost of old Cardinal Wolsey. I nearly fainted – not out of fear but out of excitement. Wolsey! The real (dead) Wolsey, the man who knew my heroine Elizabeth as a child!!! I curtseyed, Anne curtseyed rather reluctantly, but Wolsey ignored us. Living people were of no importance to him, as it seemed. Banks was as usual an idiot, and blurted out: ‘Was Henry really so fat?’ Bad mistake. Wolsey seemed to grow and rounded on Banks: “The King had a stately figure – he was not fat.’ Honestly, I disagreed. Henry was fat. But you don’t tell that to a dead cardinal, do you? Anyway, Banks was so intimidated from that moment on that the venerable society of ghosts assembling in the cathedral could talk as they were used to. We only listened.

By two a.m., Havers was asleep again but having nightmares judging by his twitching and jerking. The ghosts dissembled. Only Fridy and Wolsey stayed. “So, why have you come here?” the cardinal asked us. Hengist did the talking: ‘We came to prove that we were not afraid of ghosts.’ Wolsey chuckled. “Why should you? Give my regards to Nick, will you?” That left us gaping after his misty figure leaving through the closed doors. ‘He knows Nick?’ Hengist croaked. Fridy giggled (she’s too girlish to be a saint, if you ask me): “We all know Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington. Be careful, though, don’t talk about his place so much.” She knew we were magical. So much to this episode, which brought Banks the nickname of Rolandine, because of his shriek. Havers completely forgot about his own panic, declared we had won the bet, and turned his back to Banks. Dear diary, shall I pity him now?

Diary dear, my only friend here, paper empty stares at me – but I will cover in ink thee! Everyone is busy talking about Patience’s latest and so far weirdest idea: spending the night in the cathedral of our college. Humph. I’m sure I had more comfortable resting places in potions lessons than that night on the church benches! The company was very mixed. Banks was there, and a bloke called Havers who was sleeping most of the time and was not very talkative when awake. And us, Hengist, Patience and me. Why is it that Patience can never keep her mouth shut whenever somebody challenges her? No, I have to correct myself: whenever Banks challenges her. She always rises up to the occasion, foolish as it may be, and promises to do things she does not like to do herself.

Although I’m pretty sure Patience has always wanted to spend a night in the cathedral, just to see if she could meet any ghost of historical importance. I bet she’d love to be one night in Westminster Abbey! Now she’s famous (okay, okay, Hengist and me are as well) for being brave enough to face the famous ghosts. No real effort, facing some ghosts talking about ancient politics and philosophy… But to all those dear, cute Muggles this is oh so courageous and cool. Well, we spent the night quite comfortably. Hengist and me took the opportunity and walked around the cathedral, this time really contemplating the windows and so on. It was fun. And when we came back, we found Banks talking to Patience. That was fun! Not for poor Patience, right. Hengist and me walked another round, enjoying the pleading looks from the Banks-front.

I wonder if he finally came out with a bit of lean-on-me-talk. Or rather, can-I-lean-on-you-talk, for Banks is isolated. He’d better have gone with Cooks and Vargas, the only friends he’s ever had. The thing is, do those people get bad – as Emerson says from time to time? What if we are meant to keep Banks from going to the dark side? Ah, no, no, nonsense. Any idea like that would spoil the fun of Banks-baiting. Huh? Someone knocks. Sorry, diary dear, a short break. … Just Lisa, asking me if she could borrow my powder. Sure she can. I put a bit of chalk into it, that’ll make her face nice and white. Maybe she’s even allergic… No, bad thought, wicked thought. Where was I? Right, Cathedral night. Patience finally was rescued by valiant Hengist and me, then Frideswide came out of her grave and Havers nearly fainted. Banks, too – why, though?

He has lived among ghosts for seven years. If I had fainted at the sight of Havers, okay, for I’ve never seen so many muggles close-up than now. Ghosts are just nice – most of them are. Frideswide is, and that haughty Wolsey is, too – and they know Nearly Headless Nick. Waycool. Banks panicked and tried to stun poor Frideswide, smashing the statue of St George and making it necessary to modify Havers’ memory. Yes, I do pride myself on my memory charms. Sure enough we’ll get letters from the Ministry sooner or later. Banks AND me. But right now nothing has happened and life is just perfect. Well, as you can see, the Malignant Magpies are top of coolness here as in Hogwarts. Ah, that’s Patience yelling up for me downstairs. We’re doomed to go to Hogwarts for another boring Quidditch match.

If any of the girls catches me here, I’m doomed. Today I sneered at their scribbling in their diaries… But this is not a normal diary. Ha! This is the autobiography of H. Thomas Alret – or Hengist T. Alret, or H. T. Alret, whatever you prefer. I’m just back from one of the more funny episodes of this my life. St Frideswyde, the poor girl, will never have had such a restless night before – well, maybe the night before she died as a martyr. She will never have seen five students on the benches of her venerable cathedral, one snoring, one gaping and three friendly and polite.

And she’ll never have seen St George burst into pieces as if there had been an explosion. I bet Havers the poor Muggle thought there had been a terrorist attack. It was only Banks trying to stun Lady Frideswide – useless, futile thing to do. But, dear reader, I do see the necessity of telling things in chronological order. Patience W., one of my best friends, has a fiery temper and sometimes does things she wouldn’t have done if she had taken time to think about them thoroughly. So she said we would spend a night inside the cathedral of our college, Christ Church. So we did, and to make sure we really did Banks and a fellow student named Havers came along. Muggles do like such things, they think people are brave facing graveyards at night.

Now, look, reader, churches were used to bury the dead in former times. And in the cathedral is the stone tomb of St. Frideswide, who is an awfully nice young lady really. So we spent the night in cultural studies, especially in discussing the rich pictures on the window panes, while Patience and Banks had a little chat as well. Only Havers dropped asleep. When it was about time (midnight, the typical ghost time, except of course at Hogwarts, is used by ghosts because it can be safely assumed Muggles are asleep by that time and so cannot disturb the ghosts), St. Frideswide rose from her tomb and I went to her and greeted her and she talked to me. Unfortunately Banks completely forgot he had ever seen a ghost and did some serious magic: blasting the statue of St. George. Anne S., my other dear friend, repaired the damage quickly.

She does have some experience in this, because her sister and also Patience smash things if they’re angry enough. She also modified Havers’ memory which made me shiver a bit – who knows what she can make me forget? This is why I note everything down here – so that future generations of young wizards and witches may have the benefit of profiting from my experience. However, Havers was just sure he had seen a ghost, and that we did nothing, and then a second ghost arrived: Cardinal Wolsey, founder of our venerable college. And some others came too, and they were talking all night long. Havers was in a right state of shock. However, we gathered fame that night, Anne, Patience and myself. Only Banks was just as isolated as he has ever been. I wonder if that’s rally good for him. Emerson says not. I wonder why he sent Banks with us…

Only two days after the Magpies’ night at the cathedral, a large owl arrived at their house. Lisa was fortunately still asleep, but Anne opened the window to let it in. The screech owl carried an official-looking letter. “Uh-oh,” Anne muttered. It was addressed to herself, and bore the Ministry crest. “Well, get it over with,” Hengist suggested sympathetically, sipping a bit of tea. Patience got up and walked over to be able to look over Anne’s shoulder. Anne opened the letter and the owl flew away again. Hengist looked at the girls who were apparently reading with interest and sighed. So he would have to get up and close the window himself if he didn’t want to freeze to death. He closed the window with a loud thud, then turned to see a very pale Anne. “They’re not punishing you, are they?” he asked concerned.

Emerson Dicket fetched the Magpies at 10 p.m. the night before Anne’s hearing should take place. “You really should know better, all of you,” he fumed, but his anger was not as big as his concern was. Dumbledore himself had tried to intervene, but it was no good. Two incidents of serious magic in front of a muggle, modified memory or not, was too much to hush up easily. Banks was with them as well, and they all went to London – well, not really went: they apparated in the Leaky Cauldron, where Emerson had reserved rooms. “Go to bed immediately, we’re due at the Ministry at 8 a.m. – they do want to get it over with quickly. Honestly, I’m deeply disappointed!” The Magpies went to bed quite subdued. Anne was terribly frightened. What could happen? Would she be sent to Azkaban?

 The next morning Emerson and his four students apparated in the Entrance Hall of the Ministry of Magic, where they had their wands weighed and registered and received little shining badges giving their names and their business. “And if you could tell us where we find, ah, room 16 of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?” Emerson enquired politely. The wizard in charge of the wand-weighing told the way in such a precise way that Hengist couldn’t help grinning. “Bureaucrats do have a knack of telling things in such a nice, precise way,” he murmured. Anne grinned feebly, feeling as if she would be sick any moment now. Banks sported an air of fake confidence, but his pale face and the fact that he did not know what to do with his hands betrayed his nervousness.

“Into the lift, then, ladies and gentlemen,” Emerson grunted. “Will the whole Wizengamot assemble?” Banks asked. Anne whimpered and grabbed for Patience’s hand. “No, I don’t think you’re important enough,” Emerson snorted. They arrived far too quickly. “Now, the procedure is as follows: Anne and Mr Banks will enter when called in, and we three will have to wait until we have to testify. Understood?” He glared at them all as if they were children again. “Yes,” Patience whispered meekly. “Fine. Now, we have to wait, I assume.” They did not have to wait for long. A young woman stuck her head out of the door and called: “Roland Banks? Anne Symmons?” “Nelly?” Anne asked surprised. Nelly Dean gave her former classmate a quick smile. ”Yes. Don’t be afraid, come in, it’ll all be over in a trice.” Nelly threw the door open and admitted the two accused into a brightly sunlit office with huge flower pots on the window sill. On a huge table sat three persons, and one seat a bit apart was apparently reserved for Nelly.

“Good morning, Miss Symmons, Mr Banks,” said the witch in the middle – Millicent Bagnold, as both students recognized, having seen the Minister for Magic countless times in the newspaper. They mumbled something as a greeting, and Bagnold asked them to take a seat. “Now, let’s get this over with quickly, shall we?” she asked his fellow judges and began to recite the formalities: “Disciplinary Hearing of the second of April into offences under the International Statute of Secrecy by Anne Symmons, resident at number three, Magpie Lane, Oxford, and Roland Anthony Banks, resident at number 14, High Street, Oxford. Interrogators: Millicent Bagnold, Minister for Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Nelly Anastasia Dean. Witnesses for the Defence: Emerson Dicket Professor for Muggle Studies at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; Hengist Thomas Alret; Patience Wood. They are outside, Miss Dean, aren’t they?” Nelly nodded. “Yes, sir, they are. Shall I call them in?” “Oh no, Miss Dean, not know,” Bagnold laughed. “We’ll have them one after another, but first, Miss Symmons, your account of what happened, please.”

Before Anne could answer, the witch on Bagnold’s left side spoke: “You do know what you are accused of, dear?” Anne nodded sadly. Madam Bones smiled. “Yes, it was foolish to do magic in front of a muggle. You do see we couldn’t just overlook that?” “Yes, I see,” Anne sighed. “Well, then, why did you do it in the first place?” “We spent the night in the cathedral because some fellow students, muggles, that is, dared us to do it. And then, when the ghost of St Frideswide appeared, er…” Anne looked sideways at Roland who looked into the opposite direction. Anne swallowed. “By accident the statue of St George exploded, and…” “By accident?” Bagnold cut in, her eyebrows raised. “The spell should have hit the ghost,” Anne reported truthfully. “Aha. Was it your spell?” “No, Madam Bones,” Anne admitted in a very low voice. “I see. So you did what?” “I repaired the statue of St George and modified Mr Havers’ memory,” Anne replied. “I see, Miss Symmons. Thank you.” Bagnold gave Anne an encouraging smile. Then she turned to Roland Banks. “So you performed the full body bind spell, Mr Banks, is that correct?” “Yes,” Roland said through clenched teeth. “And was there any reason?” Bagnold enquired puzzled. Banks opened his mouth and closed it again, shaking his head in silence.

Bagnold frowned. “Come, now, Mr Banks,” she said. Roland took a deep breath. “There was no reason,” he said. The middle-aged wizard on Bagnold’s right side leaned forward: “Whom did you want to hit?” he asked. Bagnold nodded to him. “A good question, Cornelius.” “The ghost,” Roland answered almost inaudibly. Silence answered this extraordinary confession, broken only by the scratching of Nelly’s quill. “I see,” Bagnold slowly said. “Call in the first witness, Professor Dicket, Miss Dean.” Emerson shuffled in, bowing to the judges and sitting down on a spare chair. “Emerson Dicket, Professor for Muggle Studies, is that right?” Bagnold asked. Emerson nodded. “You established a program called advanced Muggle Studies, didn’t you?” Bagnold enquired. Dicket smiled. “So I did. It is a project of working together with muggle universities, sending Hogwarts students there and make them learn muggle ways in close contact with muggles. This is the third year we are sending people to Oxford, well, it’s the third year of the project anyway.” “We are looking forward to the graduates of your first project class, we do need muggle consultants here,” Bagnold acknowledged. Dicket beamed. “By which criteria do you choose students for the project?” Madam Bones wanted to know.

“Usually I ask those whom I think fit. That does not necessarily imply top grades in Muggle Studies, but rather the ability to interact with others and a sense of responsibility.” Anne couldn’t help looking at Banks and wondering why, by Merlin’s beard, the git had ever entered the project. Nelly winked at Anne, apparently having had the same idea. “Have you ever had problems with students before?” Fudge asked briskly. “No. Never,” Dicket answered immediately, then corrected himself. “Well, we always had the occasional spell in a house, or a bit of washing the dishes by magic. That’s nothing bad, I hope.” He chuckled nervously. Madam Bones laughed. “No. We’d have looked into that otherwise.” Dicket looked hugely relieved. “So – how do you explain the misbehaviour of Miss Symmons and Mr Banks?” Bagnold wanted to know. “I can’t. Sorry, Madam Bagnold, but I simply can’t. Look, they’re young, they’re rash – that might be the best explanation,” Dicket said. Anne rolled her eyes. That was certainly not the best idea of defending them. “How do you explain that, obviously, Mr Banks panicked at the sight of a ghost and began to use magic?” Fudge enquired coldly. Dicket blinked. “Beg your pardon?” he asked. “Didn’t you know? Mr Banks tried to hit a ghost with his spell.”

Dicket turned to Roland. “You did what? Honestly, you are an idiot sometimes, Banks,” he bellowed. “I can’t explain that either, minister, for I can’t see how any student of Hogwarts, who has necessarily been in close contact with ghosts, can panic when confronted with a ghost!” Millicent Bagnold looked at Fudge and Madam Bones. “I think we don’t have any further questions, do we? Right, thank you, professor, when you go out, will you call Miss Wood in?” Dicket nodded and left, leaving the door open for Patience to enter. Fudge whispered something to Madam Bones, pointing at a sheet of parchment in front of him, but Madam Bones scowled. “We don’t have an official register on her,” she said. Patience froze, her eyes wide. Bagnold cleared her throat. “Miss Wood, we weren’t talking about you – our next case, you see,” she hurriedly explained. “Will you be so kind to tell us what happened in the cathedral?” Patience told them all she knew, following exactly the tales of Anne and Roland. “So the spell was not intended to hit the muggle present?” Madam Bones asked sternly. “No, ma’am. It was to hit St. Frideswide,” Patience replied.

The minister nodded and scribbled something down. “Thank you, Miss Wood. Please send us Mr Alret, will you?” Patience was relieved to leave. She gave Hengist the thumbs up and sat down outside, next to Emerson. “They have an unofficial register on me,” she told her teacher. Dicket shook his head. “Nonsense. Why should they?” “I don’t know,” Patience sighed. Hengist meanwhile had answered all questions and could not say anything else than the other witnesses had already told the judges. Madam Bagnold nodded finally. “Right. Mr Alret, please wait outside for your friends.” Hengist left, giving Anne an encouraging smile. Bagnold leaned over to Madam Bones. They whispered a bit, while Fudge was staring at Anne with such dislike Anne felt a cold shiver on her back. “Well, well, I think we’ve found a verdict,” Bagnold finally announced. Anne sat very rigid. Banks’ hands were clenched in his lap.

“Anne Symmons and Roland Banks have been found guilty of having performed magic in presence of a muggle, which offence falls under Section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks’ Statute of Secrecy. However, as the spell was not aimed at a muggle, nor intended to hurt a muggle, and the damage was done away by Miss Symmons instantly, we think that a warning is sufficient – this time,” Millicent Bagnold announced. Anne felt as if a whole mountain range had toppled off her chest. Banks breathed out audibly. “You may leave now. Rest assured that we won’t be as lenient next time,” Bagnold warned them. They thanked the judges and left. “Got off,” Anne said, and the Magpies embraced. Banks stood by, looking completely lonely. Emerson frowned and went over to him. “Good you got off,” he said gruffly.

The library was, just as it had been at Hogwarts, a well of wisdom – and Anne and Patience loved being there. Hengist usually strolled along the shelves or checked in the computer-based system where the needed books should be. It was the same today: “Hengist, everything concerning computters and technical things is men’s stuff,” Patience decided happily, took the huge pile of books off the table and began to walk away towards Anne’s table. She checked shortly for curious muggles, saw none, then levitated the books and made them float towards the table. “You do know that Emerson will skin you for that?” Anne asked conversationally. “They were simply too heavy, Anne,” Patience shrugged and sat down. She opened the first volume. It was an innocent-looking book, all in green, with a golden crest of arms imprinted on the front cover. “What’s that?” Anne wanted to know. “A diary,” Patience replied, showing the front page to Anne who read in a whisper: “Samuel Pepys’s Diary.” She frowned. “Doesn’t ring a bell with me,” she confessed. “I hope nothing does ring bells, girls,” Hengist warningly hissed before sitting down on Anne’s other side.

“Well, no, not literally,” Anne assured him, although a little mischievous smile began to show on her face. “No, Anne, you’d be thrown out of the library faster than you can say ‘expelled’, believe me,” Hengist quickly warned. “A pity. But, Patience, who is this Pepys-guy?” “You know, we’re doing the Great Fire of London in one class,” Patience began. Anne rolled her eyes. “Remember, I’m in that class, too,” she said. Patience grinned. “Only testing your memory,” she teased. Hengist stifled a laugh. Then he hit the table with his flat hand. “And that isn’t noise?” Anne whispered and she and Patience lapsed into giggles. Hengist frowned at them. “No, I think I know who that guy was.” “Enlighten me,” Anne asked, leaning back with her arms folded. Patience quickly opened another green-bound volume with the same crest at the very back, checking obviously if Hengist was telling the truth.

“Okay, girls, Samuel Pepys was a clerk at the Navy Office in the 1660s, and he was writing this diary about everything that happened to him.” Hengist looked at Patience who nodded happily. “Great. A boring clerk,” Anne groaned. “Not really boring. He’s telling a lot of gossip,” Patience grinned. “And of his… er.. sexual affairs, you know,” she added in a lower voice, her face going red. Hengist nodded. “That’s the custom, my dear, to write such things into a diary.” “Lisa discusses them with us,” Anne pointed out and Hengist grimaced. “Good point. Maybe we suggest to her to write a diary?” “Is she able to write?” Anne retorted. Patience had not listened but was staring at the top of a page. “Anything wrong?” Anne enquired. Patience looked up and pointed at a word. Anne leaned over to read. “Can’t be true!” she said a little too loud, which caused a passing library clerk to frown at her. She shrugged apologetically, and Hengist took the book from Patience. He read and read again, but there it was, as clear as could be: ‘Butter-ale’, with a footnote saying Pepys had liked this as a remedy against colds. “Yes, so what?” Hengist asked in a low voice.

“Maybe it was something completely different than what we drink.” “No. I don’t think so,” Patience shook her head. “He must have been a wizard, so much is certain.” Anne nodded. “Yes, he must. But there is still this little problem: he never says so.” “Okay, this diary was edited by two professors of… Cambridge. We could ask them,” Patience suggested. “Don’t you think that goes way too far?” Hengist asked concerned. “No,” Patience told him. “I do. Look, Pepys was maybe a wizard, but nobody will tell you – especially not if you can’t prove it.” “We can: butterbeer,” Anne pointed out. Hengist rolled his eyes. “Even if we reveal that to a professor, to one of those editors, I mean, we wouldn’t be believed. Remember: there is no such thing as magic!” Both girls sighed, but they knew Hengist was right.

 Nevertheless, Patience could not forget the fact that there might be muggles who were really wizards, and that maybe even some of their fellow students were magical without them knowing, although, as Hengist told her, the three would have been detected without any problems – so why should other witches and wizards be more discreet? She was alone in the living room when the doorbell sounded. “Oh, not now!” she groaned and tried to read the last paragraph of her exciting chapter. The door bell rang again. “Oh, well, then…” Sighing, Patience threw the book face down on the sofa and went to the door.

Outside stood an elderly man, very polite, wearing a jacket and a cap like one of those under gentry landowners. “Hello.” Patience smiled at the old man questioningly. Then she thought he was come for Lisa. “Well, I’m currently the only one here, so if you wanted to talk to Lisa…” she said. The old man smiled. “I am come to talk to everyone who is willing to listen,” he said. “Do you know the bible?” Patience blinked, then slowly nodded. The old man looked at her closely. “And is the bible the word of God for you?” “No,” Patience bluntly answered. “I think it’s a history book rather.” “But isn’t it the only book that gives answers to these dreadful times?” the old man continued, while Patience frowned and tried to think of a way to get out of this situation. “Jesus says we shall all live in peace, and that is what god says as well.” Patience grinned. “I thought God liked to kill and punish?”

Of course she was no expert in theological questions. Having had no contact with any religion before she had had a class on religious history, she had no idea about the concepts. “That is but the law of the Jews,” the old man dismissed her idea. “No, this is the only thing we can do, to spread our belief.” “No, I think that’s very dangerous. You cannot force anyone to believe in something he doesn’t want to,” Patience told him politely but firmly. It seemed as if she had shocked the old man profoundly. “Well,” he stuttered, “that is something… Well… You certainly should not use weapons, that is true.” “Correct. Therefore, all those religious wars are unlawful,” Patience concluded triumphantly. “Yes, I think we may agree on that,” the old man sighed. “Miss, listen, my fellows and me will never use any weapons. We are only wanting to convince all the others that earth will once be paradise and only those who believed will be saved. All others are condemned. A new flood will come and wash away sins!” His eyes now beamed in anticipation. He leaned closer. “And God has set a date for this!” Patience bit her lip not to burst into laughter. “What do you say?” the old man asked. Patience smiled at him. “It’s a nice dream for you, and I hope you’ll keep it.” With that she closed the door.

Hengist had by now entered the house through the backdoor. “I’ve seen you talking to one of those fanatics. Got rid of him?” he asked, grinning broadly. “Oh, you could have saved me, Hengist!” Patience complained. He laughed. “No, this helps you develop your abilities to argue!” “Muggles,” Patience said with deep conviction, “are really the weirdest of creatures, and arguing with them makes no sense at all.”

Although it was already the beginning of November the weather was unusually pleasant. There was sunshine, and the leaves on the trees looked like little flames. Bethesda was cajoling through the garden, while Patience was reading something. Anne was enthusiastically but thanks to Bethesda rather unsuccessfully planting tulips. And Hengist was trying to nick some of the neighbours’ apples. “Here, catch!” he called out and Anne, in a reflex, caught the apple he had thrown. “That’s the most delicious kind of apple – white flesh with some red lines,” he told everyone who wanted to listen.

“That’s the most disgusting kind of apple – a stolen one,” Anne retorted and eyed the apple with distrust. “Well, technically there is no stealing,” Hengist explained. “I took only what I wanted for myself.” “Wrong, you just gave an apple to me,” Anne said smugly. Hengist grinned and took a bite of his apple. “Anyway, the branches where I plucked the apples from grow over the fence into our garden. Therefore, the apples are our property,” he said, munching the apple. “Do you know,” Patience threw in thoughtfully, “that in former times there was but one punishment for stealing? They cut your hand off.” “Urgh. Lucky we’re living today,” Anne commented, but Hengist was supremely unconcerned. “I overheard our neighbours yesterday, and she said they had too many apples anyway, and he agreed and said he was not keen to pluck all the fruit.” “Have it your own way,” Patience shrugged.

Suddenly Lisa came into the garden. It was as if everything turned mute for a second and all attention centred on her. “How does she do it?” Anne wondered in a half-whisper. Patience grinned. “She stops on the doorstep for a second.” Lisa looked at her non-too-impressed audience. “Have you already bought the fireworks?” she asked. “The what?” the Magpies asked in one voice. Lisa stared at them incredulously. “Hello?! We’ve got no fireworks yet? Do we have pennies at the ready for the kids?” “Okay, okay, please remember we’ve been at a remote public school most of our lives,” Hengist reminded her, hoping that whatever Lisa referred to would be something to do at a local comprehensive.

“Yeah, I forgot,” Lisa acknowledged cheerfully. “Right. You certainly weren’t allowed to build your little Guys, were you?” “No,” Anne said and grinned. “Okay. Then let me explain this particular custom,” Lisa delightedly started, but didn’t get any further. “It’s Guy Fawkes Day tomorrow!” Patience exclaimed. Lisa’s face crumpled into a mask of disappointment. “You know,” she said hollowly. Patience held up her text. “I just read that here, sorry. Go on, tell us about the customs.”

Lisa took a deep breath. “Well, basically we celebrate the day when that Guy Fawkes guy was executed in 1605, because he had been stupid enough to plot to blow the houses of parliament including king and worthies up. Children build rag dolls and go round the villages to get some pennies for the Guy, then they go and buy fireworks, and as soon as it is dark, the Guys are burned and there are fireworks everywhere.” She looked at her housemates. “And we’ve got nothing!”

“But it’s not too late yet. Hengist and me will set out to buy fireworks, and you can prepare everything here,” Anne suggested. “Fireworks? Anne!” Patience said uncomfortably. “Don’t worry, we won’t mind you staying inside when they’re shooting,” Hengist laughed. “Yes, I will mind,” Lisa contradicted him. “Patience, you really must come with us and watch the Guy being burned!” Patience looked doubtful but decided to wait until the time to leave came.

 Anne and Hengist were soon successful in buying fireworks. They chose some nice colourful rockets and some Catherine wheels. Anne idly took up a small, rather insignificant-looking box. Suddenly she burst into laughter. “Hengist, Hengist, look at that!” She gave Hengist the box and Hengist read the text. “Oh no!” he gasped, then laughed as well. “We must take them – and show them to Patience.” “Indeed we must,” Anne fervently agreed.

At home, Patience and Lisa had put a dish filled with pennies next to the front door, plus some sweets. “The children will like something sweet, won’t they?” Patience enquired and looked at Lisa. “Sure they will. I would, anyway,” Lisa assured her. “Oh, look, Anne and Hengist are back,” Patience said and opened the door to let the others in. “Here, we bought these… and these… and here, Patience, have a look,” Hengist said while unpacking the bags.

Patience looked at the box in her hand and her eyes grew wider and wider. “No way,” she said. “What? Oh, squibs!” Lisa said delightedly and took the box from Patience. “I love them!” “We, too,” Anne said and had to fight a fit of the giggles. Patience closed her eyes for a moment. “Squibs. Cool,” she said in an uncertain voice. Hengist nodded. “Yes. I can’t wait to set fire to them and see them explode. And we could give names to them.” “Like, um, Peter Rabbit?” Lisa asked. “Yeah. Or Argus Filch or something like that,” Anne agreed. Patience and Hengist laughed out loud, and Lisa joined in: “What a ridiculous name!”

Later that day, Anne had the pleasure to have Hengist and Patience in her room. “I can’t believe it. Muggles burn squibs on Guy Fawkes Day!” Patience said and laughed. Hengist frowned. “Hang on, perhaps Guy Fawkes was a squib himself.” “No, he was a traitor and a stupid one, too, because he was caught,” Patience said amused. “Besides, Professor Binns would have told us about him if he had had any connections to the magical world.” “If you say so – I certainly didn’t pay attention to Binns,” Anne reminded Patience who nodded and sighed.

“So, are you coming to watch the fire?” Hengist changed the topic. “How can I not, when we’re taking our revenge to Filch and shoot him into the sky?” Patience asked in return. Anne clapped her back. “I knew you were much more courageous than anyone ever thought.” “Well, thanks, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to put fire to one of them personally. I won’t hold a match, or a lighter, or anything at all, and as soon as something comes towards me, I’m gone,” Patience told her friends sternly. “Sounds fair,” Hengist nodded. Anne grinned. “And one day, we might even set fire to the real Filch…” “I think we did so in the old days – he did have trouble with us,” Hengist said reminiscently. “And now he’s got Fred and George,” Anne added. “Cheers to Argus Filch, the real Squibs and burning squibs!” Patience laughed.

Anne entered the kitchen holding a little sheet of paper in her hands. Hengist and Patience were drinking tea. She placed it on the table, looked at it and asked seriously: “What is this?” Hengist looked at it from a distance. “That is toilet paper and I would be very happy if you didn’t put on the table.” He complained. “I know that this is toilet paper.” Anne took it and held it up. “But what’s that thing on it?” “I hope it’s not what I think it is.” Hengist sighed and placed himself next to Anne. Patience did the same.

“Could be starfish.” Patience thought aloud. “I think it looks more like butterflies.” Anne replied. “These are flowers. Plain and simple flowers.” Hengist explained a little unnerved because he really couldn’t believe that he had to discuss the pattern of a sheet of toilet paper in a kitchen. “And what are these little round things?” Patience asked. “These are supposed to be leaves.” Hengist helped. “And those strange long lines?” Anne wanted to know. “The stalks.” Hengist sighed.

“But why aren’t the leaves and the blossoms connected to the stalks?” Both women looked questioningly at Hengist. “Because this is toilet paper and not a work of art.” Hengist declared and sat down again. “Muggles are really strange. What’s the point in putting a pattern on toilet paper?” Anne went on. Hengist looked at her. “You’re not serious about this are you?” He asked. “Of course I’m serious.” “There is a pattern on it to make it more beautiful.” Hengist replied. “Aah, I see.” Patience said. “Well, I don’t. Do you really think it is prettier with that?” Anne wanted to know. Patience shrugged. “Well, I do, that’s why I bought it and if you two don’t shut up I will…” He paused to think of a nice punishment.

Lisa entered the kitchen. “Hi, what are you doing?” She said. “We’re discussing…” “ANNE!” Hengist shouted warningly. “…the teaching method of one of our professors.” Anne finished. “It’s not that cute one? Mmh, what was his name again? The one with the black hair and dark eyes. The one who is not too tall.” “Mark!” Anne said. “Yes, Mark, that is him!” Lisa said happily while Patience and Hengist looked at Anne in a surprised way. “No, we’re not discussing him.” She added. “A pity.” Lisa sighed and left again.

“Who is Mark?” Patience asked almost bursting into laughter. “He’s teaching practical courses. I don’t know him really, never did anything with him.” She explained. “How did you know that Lisa was talking about him?” Hengist wanted to know. “Because any female student is in love with him because he is so good-looking and definitely cute.” Anne reported. “So, what about you?” Patience interrogated. “Well, I would have done a course with him if I had been interested, wouldn’t I?” She replied. “Why don’t I know about such a handsome teacher?” Patience sighed. “Because you wouldn’t waste your time in a seminar with 100% female students who all adore the teacher and spend their time sighing and giggling.” Anne told her. “So you have been to one of his courses!” Hengist stated.

“I visited a friend there before it started. I could observe the reaction of the female students. They were all absorbed in dreams before he entered and afterwards they were all staring at him absent-mindedly.” Anne revealed. “What is he teaching anyway?” Patience asked. “Mainly translation and grammar.” “And I don’t need those courses.” Patience stated with a sigh. “And is he really that good-looking and cute?” Hengist went on. “I don’t think he is. But maybe he is simply not my type!”

“What will you do with the toilet paper now?” Patience changed the topic. “Oh, I will put it in an album. I’ll gather all strange muggle things and then I’ll give it to Arthur Weasley!” “What else did you put into it, so far?” Hengist asked. “I got a whole page with different stinking notes…” “What?” Hengist laughed. “You know, these little paper thingies you can put almost anywhere.” “Those are sticking notes if anything!” Hengist replied still laughing. Hengist hugged his friend. “Sometimes I cannot help but love you!”

Summer sent its sunshine even to Oxford, and so the weekends were most pleasantly spent outside, strolling through Oxford or sitting in a park. One Saturday afternoon, Patience, Hengist and Anne discovered a new shop. The windows showed multitudes of sweets. “This looks so familiar,” Anne said longingly. Patience sighed. “Hogsmeade.” “Honeyduke’s,” Hengist added. “But look – this here’s called Sweet Italy,” Anne pointed out. But still the sweets looked very familiar. People passed the shop without once looking at it, Hengist noticed and frowned. “Girls – there’s something weird about that shop,” he slowly said. The Magpies went to the other shop window and peered inside. Shelves filled with chocolates and bonbons were displayed. “I don’t see anything unusual – why don’t we just go in?” Patience suggested, but Hengist grabbed her arm. “No, not now. Let’s watch it. I’m sure the muggles don’t even notice the shop,” he said. Anne looked around. “There’s a bench – let’s watch from there,” she said. They sat for half an hour, watching the crowd pass through the street, stopping at shop windows – but never at the windows of Sweet Italy.

“It is a strange thing,” Anne commented. Patience laughed. “Can we go in there now?” Hengist sighed. “Wait – there’s someone slowing his pace!” They waited with halted breath. But the man just bent down to adjust his shoelaces. “That’s it,” Patience said and got up. “I’m going in there – you may accompany me or stay here to stare at muggles.” Anne jumped up. “I’ll come with you – muggles aren’t that interesting, and I could do with some nice chocolate.” Hengist groaned. “You are just too impatient.” “No – I’m Patience in person,” Patience replied and she and Anne began to giggle. “Girls, you’re sometimes really stupid,” Hengist muttered, but the two chose to ignore that. When they opened the door to Sweet Italy, the bell chimed in an unmistakably magical way: where can you find a bell playing Verdi’s Aida hymn in a muggle shop?

The man who came out of what seemed a kitchen was as un-muggle-ish as possible. He was not very tall, but rather round. He was already balding, but his eyes were shining with a shrewd wit. “Welcome, welcome, young ones,” he greeted them and extended his arms as if the Magpies were some long-lost relatives. “What a pleasure! So there are some of us here – I was beginning to doubt if ever anyone would find my shop.” “Well, the muggles don’t notice it,” Hengist pointed out. “The better for them,” the owner said and winked at Hengist, then pointed at a shelf filled with special effects sweets. “Yes, they would be very surprised by these,” Anne remarked. “Yes. Now, my young friends – I hope we will become friends, yes? I am Arsenio Crumlum.” “My name is Anne Symmons, and these are Hengist Alret and Patience Wood,” Anne introduced the Magpies. “A pleasure to meet you. What can I do for you?” Arsenio Crumlum looked at Hengist and suddenly smiled. He lifted his left hand.

“I know, Signor Alret. You will love these, try, please, try.” He offered a huge round bonbon of golden brown colouring to Hengist. Hengist took the sweet and tasted it. “That’s wonderful,” he said with his mouth full of bonbon. “I thought so – cappuccino cream.” Then he turned to Anne. “Well, Black Beauty, let me see. Come, look at me, girl, or else old Arsenio can’t give you what you like.” He laughed as Anne scowled. “Don’t look so cross. Here, that’s for you.” Anne took the sweet. It was a round marzipan ball filled with strawberry mousse. Anne beamed at Arsenio. “You are a true wizard,” she said. Patience smiled. “For you, piccola rossa, I’ve got this.” Patience’s sample was chocolate, but in it was something very much like clotted cream mixed with honey. “Perfect,” Patience decided. “Yes, but don’t you think something’s missing?” Crumlum asked and his eyes twinkled merrily. “I’ve been thinking to put some cinnamon into it.” Hengist and Anne laughed out loud and Patience nodded seriously.

“Yes, Mr Crumlum, cinnamon would be nice.” “Mr Crumlum! Listen to this piccola rossa! No, we are so few wizards here, we will be friends, and you can always come here, to old Arsenio, and fetch some sweets. Take these, please.” He forced a bag full of the sweets the three had just sampled onto Hengist. “No, you are students, you need your money for other things.” “Arsenio, I doubt you will ever be rich,” Anne said amused. Arsenio laughed. “I am rich, yes, I am. I had a very good shop at Diagon Alley. Yes, but the prices for the shop went too high – I thought so, you see, so I took my money and my knowledge – all in here, Signor Alret, yes?” Arsenio put his finger to his head and smiled. Hengist nodded and tried to keep a straight face. “And then I came here, and I think to make much money, Black Beauty. If you need an owl, you three, I offer mail services as well. And I can order books at my friends’, Flourish and Blott’s. See, I can make money.” Aresenio beamed proudly at his visitors. “But you could do me a favour, yes,” Arsenio suddenly said, his eyes lingering thoughtfully on Patience.

“Ah, piccola rossa, go to Italy once and all the men will fall for this hair,” he added dreamily. Patience blushed fiercely. Hengist grinned. “I’ll go with you and keep an eye on you,” he promised. Arsenio laughed. “Don’t worry. My favour has got to do something with this language you speak here. I’m not a native speaker, yes? And I need help. I want to offer these cookies with some little… what do you say? Explanation, yes.” Arsenio produced a bit of parchment, splattered with colourful sugar. “Can you go through this for me?” Anne took the parchment. “Sure, Arsenio. When do you need it back?” “Well, maybe next week, yes?” Crumlum asked. Patience nodded. “You shall get it.” She considered it a moment, then extended her hand. “Have a nice day, and thanks for the sweets.” “Not so formal, piccola rossa,” Arsenio smiled and kissed Patience twice on her cheeks, doing the same with Anne and Hengist.

At home, the Magpies assembled in Anne’s room, placing Arsenio’s sweets on a plate and beginning to read the text:

“Typical (traditional) Tuscan product. The generous land of Tuscany has offered many gourmet delights to those passionate about food. Amongst them these wonderful Italian biscuits, which are loved the word over. Everyone should taste these delicious Cantucci, at least once, they are too good to miss! These delicious treats, made with almonds, were appreciated as far back as 1300’s when they were prepared by the monks from the Abbeys and the Monasteries spread in the Tuscan Appennino, using flour, honey, sugar and the sweet fruits of the almond trees that grew in those areas. Drawing from the ancient recipe, these rustic delights. “Cantucci Arsenio” are a true taste of tradition. Made with genuine ingredients and using the techniques of old, the taste is as good as it ever was! Savour them at the end of a meal, dipping them in a sweet and liquorous wine that compliments their taste and softens their consistency. They are an ideal companion for your coffee or cappuccino, alternatively, create the perfect dessert and serve them with some ice-cream.”

Hengist and Anne heard Patience giggle. “What’s wrong with her?” Anne asked. “I don’t know, we better check, maybe she stumbled across some muggle obscurity!” Hengist sighed. “Oh, Hengist, how can you say such a bad word!” Anne scolded him. “What would that have been?” He asked. “Muggle.” “Yes, right.” They searched for Patience and found her standing in front of one of the tables reading over a sheet of paper. She giggled again. Anne and Hengist looked over her shoulder. “Those are the library rules. What are you laughing for. Those are dead serious.” Hengist observed. “Dead serious? They can’t be.” Patience laughed. “1. I’m quiet and avoid making loud noises. 2. I turn off my mobile phone in the library. 3. I only do my group work in closed group work rooms. Now comes a hard one for you. 4. I don’t eat in the library. 5. I clear my working space when I leave the library. 6. Bags are not allowed in the library.” Patience looked  at her friends. “I thought we were at a university and not a kindergarten.”

Hengist took the piece of paper. “Yes, maybe they should have put it differently…” He admitted. Anne frowned. “What is a mobile phone?” She asked looking over Hengist’s shoulder. “It’s a little telephone.” Hengist explained. “Well, I can see why it is forbidden to bring your own telephone with you. Just imagine all those cables lying on the floor…” “No, Patience, you don’t understand. Mobile phones work without cables.” He added. Patience frowned. “I see.” She whispered. “You know…” Anne started. “…there’s something missing. They don’t tell us that we have to take the books back to their shelves.” Patience took a pencil and grabbed the piece of paper. 7. I put the books back into the shelves. She scribbled underneath the rules. “Yes, that’s much better.” Anne said. “Glad to have made you happy.” Patience replied. Hengist shook his head. “Maybe we are in Kindergarten after all.”

A couple of days later Anne sat doodling at the table in the kitchen when Hengist and Patience joined her. “What is that?” Patience asked looking over her shoulder while Hengist helped himself to a little snack from the fridge. “Isn’t that obvious?” She replied. “It’s a sign, you know one of the international ones.” She explained. “Yes, quite obviously.” Hengist said. Anne frowned. “You don’t get the meaning of it, do you? It’s about being quiet at the library.” “Yes, I can see it now, if you aren’t quiet you get tortured.” Patience grinned. “No, you idiots. That is someone who is screaming and making noise…” “Yes, because he gets tortured!” Hengist interrupted her. “No, there’s one thing missing!” “What?” Patience wanted to know. Anne added a thick line crossing the picture. “And what does it mean now?” Patience said totally lost. “Obvious!” Hengist exclaimed. “No torture!”

“NO!” Anne shouted. “It  means that you’re supposed to be quiet.” “Or else you will get tortured.” Hengist stated. “I’ll torture you, if you don’t stop.” Hengist grabbed the picture and held it in front of his chest. “No, torture is forbidden here!” He ran away closely followed by Anne who had to stop in front of his door. “If you don’t come out I’ll come in!” She warned him. “I’m naked.” He shouted. “I don’t care!” Anne replied. Patience watched this scene and burst into laughter. “What?” Anne snapped. Hengist opened the door. “What’s wrong with her?” Hengist wanted to know. “No idea.” Anne shrugged. “It’s just…are we really going to university?” Anne and Hengist looked at each other and burst into laughter as well.

“HENGIST, THERE IS A SOCK-EATING MONSTER IN OUR KITCHEN!” Patience shouted. Hengist who was in the living-room got up and shouted: “ANNE, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” She opened the door to her room. “I didn’t do anything.” She said in a normal voice. Together they went to the kitchen where Patience was close to a nervous breakdown. The table was covered with 58 pairs of socks and five socks that had lost its significant other. “Where’s the monster?” Hengist asked looking around the kitchen. “Where’s our table?” Anne asked and moved some of the socks sniffing carefully. “I only hope they are washed.” She added and sat down.

“Yes, they are washed and that is the problem. The washing machine ate some of the socks.” Patience declared. Anne stood up again. “I didn’t know this machine needed food. Do you think it only consumes socks or is it likely to eat something else as well, like muggles for example?” She asked hopefully. Hengist shook his head. “It’s only natural that it eats socks.” He said matter-of-factly. Patience frowned. “So, why do we put socks inside if they disappear and why can’t it choose whole pairs instead of leaving behind five single ones?” “How could it know, I mean, there are no eyes inside.” Anne helped and approached the machine again.

“You don’t understand. It doesn’t really eat them.” He started and had to think about the best way to explain this muggle mystery to two witches. “The point is the socks are still there.” “You mean it can make them invisible?” Patience exclaimed. She searched the inside of the barrel for any signs of invisible socks. “There are no socks.” She complained. “That is because they are not invisible.” He tried. “But they are not there.” Patience repeated. Hengist nodded. He knelt down next to the machine. “Do you see this tiny gap?” Patience and Anne nodded. “The socks are thin enough to go through this.” “But why would they?” Anne wanted to know. “If you were pressed against the gap you would think about going through it as well, just to make it stop.” Hengist said because he had no better explanation for this phenomenon. “In fact the socks lead a happy life underneath the Barrel and it is so nice that they won’t come out again by themselves.” He was satisfied with himself.

Patience looked at Anne. “Somehow I have the feeling he doesn’t take us seriously.” She said. Anne nodded. “What do you want? For some reason the socks disappear through this gap. I don’t know any way to get them out again. Just let them be gone for good and live happily ever after.” He prepared to leave. “Thank you, Hengist!” Patience said. “For help call Hengist 110.” He replied and returned to the living-room. Of course, Patience and Anne were not satisfied. “I could try to summon them.” She suggested. Anne agreed. “Accio Socks!” This turned out to be a mistake.

As you all know there are different sorts of mistakes. There is the one that is made because you refuse to take the advice somebody has been given to you. Another one is caused by lack of knowledge. Some are due to ignorance and proceeding despite knowing better. And there are those which are simply bad luck. Our two friends were able to unite all the sources this time. They disregarded the piece of advice coming from Hengist. And they definitely did not know enough neither about socks nor washing machines. In fact they should have known better due to their experiences they had already gathered in the muggle world. As for bad luck, well, you shall see.

Patience could hardly move. Somehow she managed to free her head and take a deep breath. Suddenly she realized that Anne had disappeared. “Where are you?” She shouted several times before the door was opened by Hengist. He looked at the mess bare-footedly. “Can you see Anne?” She asked. “No!” He replied. “But she must be somewhere around here!” She moved some of the socks that blocked her way. Anne’s head appeared. She shovelled some socks away from her mouth. “This stinks!” She stated. “Are you alright?” Patience asked concerned. “No!” She replied. “Being buried in 387 pairs of socks and most of them unwashed is far from a state which I would describe as alright.” Hengist had started removing the socks. Anne was the first one to be freed. She helped Hengist and together they reached Patience and helped her out.

“What happened now?” Hengist asked in a voice that must have been borrowed from an unnerved and angry parent. However, this time he thought Patience to be behind the mess for a change. Patience raised her wand. “I only said Accio…” Anne closed Patience’s mouth magically. “I don’t want to hear it again.” She commented shovelling away more socks with her foot. “She tried to summon the socks out of the washing machine. But I guess the spell got out of control and befell the whole house.” She looked at her own bare feet. Hengist nodded. Patience tried to say something but it remained unheard until Hengist had freed her from the spell and she could talk again. “Sorry.”

“Well, we better remove this mess…” Hengist suggested. “Yes.” Anne agreed and intended to apply her wand again, however, Hengist took it from her and put it into his pocket. “Without magic this time – if you don’t mind.” He warned them. “Best if each one takes her own socks and the rest will be taken to be Lisa’s.” Anne fetched four boxes. “We can just throw any socks with motives into Anne’s box. Nobody else would wear those.” Patience remarked. Anne grimaced. “Much better than these!” She held up a pair of hooped socks in different shades of red. It was easiest for Hengist for he only owned pitch black socks. Those in pink and yellow and all other unwearable colours were immediately buried in Lisa’s box.

The beautiful warm sunny weather induced many people to come out of their offices, flats and houses to enjoy the sun. Unfortunately, it also induced many people to wear short skirts or shorts. And T-shirts leaving most of the stomach open to the eyes of the public. “Muggles don’t have any sense for dress,” Anne commented, giggling at some men with legs looking as white as flobberworms. “Anne, be a bit more just – how shall they get suntanned legs without exposing them to the sun?” Hengist asked reasonably. “Why don’t they tan their legs in private before showing the public?” Anne retorted. Patience cleared her throat, looking down at her own very white legs protruding under a short summer skirt. “That’s different, you’re a redhead, redheads get freckles but no suntan,” Anne dismissed it.

“But a sunburn,” Patience laughed. “Yeah, a sunburn,” Hengist sighed and rubbed his nose ruefully. He had underestimated the power of the sun and now sported a rather red nose after an afternoon of rowing on the Thames. “I can tell you, sport really is murder. No sports,” Anne said, crossed her arms and eyed her own reflection in a shop window. “Why no sports?” Hengist asked grinning. “Winston Churchill,” Anne responded. Patience frowned. “But Churchill was huge,” she said astonished. “Because he did no sports?” Hengist enquired. Patience shrugged. “No idea. But if he said that, there are loads of gurus propagating the opposite.”

“Why don’t we look for a sport we like?” Hengist suggested. “Why?” Anne asked suspiciously. Patience was also wary. It was not really Hengist’s way to suggest such activities. “I just thought… We might meet new people… mix with Muggles,” Hengist said lamely. “Was it Emerson’s idea?” Patience asked. Hengist seemed to think of a way to deny it, but finally gave up: “Yes. He thought it would be fun for us.” “Does Roland do that as well?” Anne asked, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “Yes,” Hengist sighed. “Awful,” Patience shuddered.

“Which sport shall you choose?” Anne asked matter-of-factly. “I’ve got but one sport I love,” Patience said dreamily. Hengist looked at her and shook his head. “No, Patience,” he said calmly. “A Muggle sport.” Patience grimaced. Of course she had not really thought it was allowed to choose Quidditch for a sports activity, but hope one could. “What will you do?” she asked Hengist. “I’ve no idea,” he confessed, and the girls laughed. “Are we at least allowed to do it together?” Anne wanted to know. “Yes – either the four of us, or each of us alone,” Hengist explained the rules. “I don’t know what Emerson is playing at – Roland was a… you-know-what, and that won’t work out even if you lock us up in one room,” Patience stated matter-of-factly.

“Exactly – but this here might be fun. We can choose a sport we know Banks is rubbish at,” Anne suggested mischievously. Patience snorted. “That would be any sport.” Hengist shook his head in mock despair. “Will you ever get over the black-and-white of old school days?” Anne and Patience looked at each other. “Maybe,” Patience said cautiously. “If the earth goes upside down and the sun starts to move around it,” Anne added. Hengist groaned only.

That evening the Magpies sat in the living room faced with leaflets of fitness studios, gyms and fitness magazines. When Lisa saw these, she frowned. “What? Suddenly found out you want to wear a bikini this summer?” she asked. Hengist grinned. “Oh no, I think my swimming trunks are quite okay, thanks.” Anne howled with laughter and Lisa blushed angrily. “I meant…” she began. Patience smiled soothingly. “We know. No, we just thought that a bit of sport would do us good. What do you do?”

“Oh. Well, I’m a swimmer. Why don’t you try that?” Lisa asked. Anne looked doubtful. “Swimming just back and forth in a huge pool – that’s boring.” “But it is a good sport for all your muscles,” Lisa pointed out. Patience wrote down ‘swimming’ on a sheet of paper. “We collect ideas and then we decide by giving points to each sport,” she explained. Lisa shook her head. “You are sometimes really mad. Besides, you could do a different sport each. But why meet other people, eh?” Lisa smiled sweetly, knowing perfectly well she had hit a sore point.

“Right. Then a different sport each,” Anne said at once, determinedly opening a fitness magazine. She closed her eyes and pointed with her forefinger at an article. “I’ll be doing… Hang on, what?” Hengist leaned over and grinned. “You’ll do triathlon. Wow, Anne, that’s really tough.” Anne said nothing but opened the article on triathlon and found out that she had to do running, cycling and – swimming. “Oh great,” she groaned. Lisa sighed. “You can’t just pick a sport like that. You should think about what kind of sport you’ve done before and what you liked best.” She looked at the Magpies. “I guess even at your weird public school there were sports classes, weren’t there?”

“Of course,” Hengist quickly answered before the girls could say a word. “Only, neither of us was too fond of cricket and rugby.” Lisa nodded understandingly. “I couldn’t warm to handball, either.” “I think,” Hengist said thoughtfully, “I’ll do football. That was fun when I was a child.” “Aha,” Patience said, leafing through some gym leaflets and trying to decide for something. “That looks as if it were just displaying in public how bad one is at sports,” she finally burst out. “Maybe I should find a sport that makes a fool of myself for everyone to see.”

“That’s what Hengist is doing,” Anne said. She had found some explanation on football, apparently a team game played on a lawn, with 22 players and one ball. “What, so many players and just one ball? Where’s the challenge in that? They’ll continually crash,” Patience said incredulously. Lisa laughed. “Yes, I always felt like that when I watched a football match. Glad I found someone with the same opinion.” She checked her watch and therefore missed Patience’s bewildered look. “Dears, I’ve got to dash, I’m meeting John at the library. See you!” And Lisa was gone.

“Hengist, you’re really going to play football?” Anne asked. Hengist nodded. “Okay, then I’ll join the cycling team,” Anne decided. Both she and Hengist looked expectantly at Patience. “I don’t know,” she said flatly and looked out of the window. There were two women walking side by side. Both were wearing walking shoes, and both were carrying sticks. “Hang on,” Patience said suddenly. “It’s summer – what are they carrying skiing sticks for?” Emerson Dicket had taught his class about Muggle winter sports, so even Anne and Patience knew about skiing. They had found it ridiculous at the time. “It’s called Nordic Walking. There’s a university team for it,” Hengist informed the girls. “If that isn’t the sport for me,” Patience giggled. “Fine. Wonder what Banks will do,” Hengist said and they all grinned.

“Must we go there?” “Anne! It’s Hengist’s first match and yes, we have to go there. At least you don’t have to play,” Patience grinned. Anne, as usual reluctant to watch any sport, had been moaning and complaining all day long – whenever Hengist was out of earshot. Lisa joined the others. She was wearing a wide T-shirt and a scarf sporting the colours of Hengist’s team: green and white. “Did he have to choose a team playing in green and white?” Anne asked. Patience shrugged. “I guess he didn’t choose the team by the colours.” But secretly she was also revolted by the implication behind the colours. Green and white – almost Slytherin style!

“C’mon, let’s have some fun – I bet we meet loads of men there,” Lisa beamed and jumped into the air. “Just to practise,” she giggled. “Yes, loads of fun and some men running behind one ball,” Anne remarked, grabbed her bag and followed Patience and Lisa. “Now explain again. There are two goals, right?” Patience said. Lisa grinned. “Yes, that’s a good attitude to meet some men. They will love being able to explain the rules to you. They love women with inferior knowledge.“ “They love stupid,” Anne translated. Patience grimaced but kept herself from asking any more questions.

Hengist had given the three girls tickets, so they did not have to queue in front of the stadium. Lisa had been right: Most of the crowd were male, and most of the crowd were already well into their fourth round of beer. Anne made a movement as if to turn around. Patience took her arm. “C’mon, let’s do it for Hengist,” she hissed. Anne groaned but let herself be steered into the stadium. There they climbed up until they had found their seats. Right between a young, pimpled man eating crisps out of a large bag and carrying a six-pack of beer cans, and a large elderly man with a green-and-white painted face yelling encouraging words every now and then. “Just to practise,” he grunted when Anne stared at him.

Anne rolled her eyes, folded her arms and sat down next to the pimpled crisp-eater. “Hi, I’m Randy,” said the man and held out his greasy hand. Anne stared at it, then at the man. “Hi,” she said but did not take the hand. Randy blushed and turned his eyes back to the pitch. Lisa, sitting next to the fat supporter, was craning her neck for more eligible men. Patience meanwhile leaned forward and scanned the pitch. It was not oval, for a start, but a rectangle. There was grass alright, but there were also curious lines drawn onto the grass. And there were but two goals – in the whole pitch. Patience had assumed the keeper had to watch over two goals – still quite few, as Quidditch keepers had three goals to keep safe. But no, each keeper had one admittedly large goal to watch. Patience shook her head.

Anne frowned. “What’s wrong?” “Well, look – there’s only…” Anne nudged Patience hard into her ribs. “Ouch!” Patience complained. Anne whispered: “Don’t talk about the rules nor the pitch nor compare it to you-know-what.” Patience nodded mutely and leaned back as well. Lisa looked at her two housemates. “You are so boring sometimes,” she laughed. It was lucky the stadium commentator took over so that Anne and Patience were spared a reply.

“Welcome to the Oxford Odeon Players first match for this season! And welcome our guests, the Salisbury Salesmen!” Roaring applause filled the stadium. Patience grimaced. “You were better,” Anne said loyally. Patience nodded. “And here are the teams and referees!” The teams marched in, waving to the audience. Three referees followed. Patience was absolutely bewildered. What did they need three referees for? There was only one ball, so much was clear, only two goals – so what did they need three referees for? Muggles were really weird.

The referee number one blew a whistle and the match began. Hengist was sporting the number 9 on his back, but he was easily to be spotted. He was the smallest in the pitch, and his curls were glittering in the sunlight. “And this is Oxford running towards the goal – watch that new find of captain Bryant’s go, there’s Alret like lightning, and – oh what a pity, the keeper of Salisbury is too good for Alret.” “Go, Hengist!” Patience yelled and Anne cheered as well. Crisp-eater Randy stared at her. “You know him?” he asked, munching his crisps. “Yes,” Anne said and beamed. “Cool,” said Randy. “Yes,” Anne laughed. By now the football match had drawn her and Patience in. When the break came, they were almost disappointed. So far nobody had scored a goal.

“Shall we go and see Hengist?” Anne asked. Lisa laughed out loud. “You’re not allowed down there. Maybe after the match, but… Hang on, yeah, after the match we must go there. Maybe they’ll let us pass when I say I’m Hengist’s fiancée?” “No,” Anne and Patience said in one voice. “I’m sure he did say he was gay,” Patience reminded Lisa. Randy dropped his bag of crisps. “No way,” he said stunned. “Shut up,” Anne told him annoyed. Randy stared at her for a moment, then scrambled to his feet and dashed downstairs. “Maybe he’s finally sick of all the crisps,” Patience supposed.

The match went on and in the last five minutes Oxford advanced on the Salisbury goal again. “HENGIST!” yelled the three girls of Magpie Lane. Hengist was running, a Salisbury player tried to hold him back by tugging at his shirt (“FOUL!” cried Patience) and then there he was, in front of the goal and – “HE SCORED!” The Oxford fans went wild, the referee’s whistle went down in the frenetic applause and shouting. Lisa was drawn into a stifling hug by her fat neighbour. Anne looked around. Randy the crisp-eater had not returned.

“Let’s go down,” Lisa said, hoping to escape the fat fan who was crying and muttering something about the first game won by Oxford for years. Patience laughed. “That’s our boy,” she said proudly. There was a crowd of young women in front of the changing room. “And whose fiancées are you?” asked a bored bodyguard. “Nobody’s,” Anne replied and beamed at the wardrobe-like man. The bodyguard grinned. “At least you’re honest. So, who is it you want to talk to?” “Hengist Alret,” Anne said. “Ah. The Midget. And who shall I say wants to talk to him?” “The Magpies,” Patience said before Anne could reply. The bodyguard laughed. “Let’s see. Hey, Midget!” he yelled into the changing room. “Want to see Magpies?” “Let them through,” Hengist answered. The crowd of women around Anne, Lisa and Patience stared enviously as the bodyguard stepped aside.

Inside the players were only half-dressed at best. “Oh my god,” Patience whispered and turned around. “Over here,” said Hengist calmly. “Hey, Alret, got yourself a harem already?” joked a bully of a man. “No, Bryant, they’re my housemates,” Hengist explained, let himself be hugged by his friends and took their congratulations gladly. “We’re going to celebrate afterwards. You don’t have to come,” Hengist said, seeing Anne’s face drop. “Of course we go, it’s your day,” Patience briskly said and trod onto Anne’s foot warningly. “Oh yes,” Anne sighed. Lisa nodded and looked around. “Mind if I fetch some autographs?” she asked but did not wait for a reply.

The party had been fun and ended late, and so neither of the inmates of 3, Magpie Lane was awake very early. Anne was the first to get up and fetch the paper from the door. The headline was “Oxford Slaughter Salisbury”. Anne grimaced and slammed the paper onto the kitchen table, then began to prepare breakfast. Half an hour later Patience appeared. “Oh, Anne, you should have woken me up,” she said, seeing the breakfast. Anne shrugged. “That was quite alright. Let’s have a look what they write about Hengist,” she suggested. So the two sat down at the table and shared the newspaper. The leading article was full of praise, but there was a small article on the rumour page asking if Hengist was really fit to play football. “What are they playing at?” Anne asked. But Patience had got the gist. “Randy,” she said. “I don’t know anyone by that name,” Anne stated. “Yes you do. The crisp-eater of yesterday, Anne. You told him Hengist was gay.” Patience got up. “Damn it,” she said fiercely.

“Can’t we just hide the newspaper?” Anne suggested. “And you think Randy will keep shut up about this rumour? Maybe Hengist should…” “Morning girls,” said the man they were talking about. “What should I do, Patience?” he enquired and poured himself a cup of strong hot tea. Without a word, Patience handed her friend the paper. Hengist read. “Oh, but the team know it,” Hengist said lightly. But he did not look up. “Hengist?” Anne enquired sternly. “Alright, the team know it,” Hengist sighed, “but we decided to keep shut up. Somebody must have talked.” “No, that was me – by accident,” Anne confessed. Hengist’s face lit up. “Well, that’s great. I don’t really care about that, neither do the…”

The doorbell rang and Patience went to open. There was the team captain Bryant. “Hello. Patience, isn’t it?” he asked. He looked a bit pale that morning. “Come in. Can I offer you some tea?” Patience asked. “Oh yes, please!” Bryant slumped down on a chair in the kitchen. “Carl, are you here because of the paper?” Hengist asked. Bryant nodded. “Is there a problem?” Anne enquired. “Because I wasn’t aware that the bloke next to me was a reporter.” “No, there’s no problem. Only, the manager called me and asked if we should change the strategy.” Hengist raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Maybe you should play low for a while and tell them you’ve got a girlfriend. Best choose that blonde one.” “Lisa?” Patience asked shocked. “Or you,” Carl Bryant conceded. Patience shook her head. “You know you’re talking nonsense,” she said flatly. “Oh no. The fans hate gay football players,” Bryant earnestly said. Hengist took a deep breath. “You know, Carl, I’m through hiding,” he said calmly. “I’m off the team. Look for another player.” He left the kitchen. Bryant stared after him. “I know what he feels like. We had trouble with the fans before, because I’m an ex-convict. Nobody knew. See you, and thanks for the tea.” And Bryant left as well.

Anne and Patience went in search of Hengist. “Are you okay?” Patience asked concerned. Hengist sat cross-legged on his bed. “Sure,” he said. “Why don’t we look for a Quidditch team here? It doesn’t count there I’m sure,” Patience tried to cheer her friend up. “But there I’m the mudblood. I’m an outcast everywhere,” Hengist burst out. Angry red blotches appeared in his face. Patience sat down next to him and embraced him. “You’re never an outcast with us,” she said. Anne sat down on Hengist’s other side and ruffled his hair. “Never.”

Hengist smiled. “I know. Ah, girls, what would I do without you?” Anne shrugged. “Works the other way round as well.” “Yes, we’d be lost without you. You’re the only one who can pass easily as a Muggle,” Patience giggled. “Let’s look for a Quidditch team, alright? Then we’ll feel better. This skiing without skis is just laughable,” she added. Anne grinned. “Well, I’d better stay with the cycling team. That’s more fun than flying.” The Magpies laughed. “So it looks as if we found our favourite sport. Emerson won’t be pleased – but let’s hope Banks has found a more suitable sport for himself,” Hengist summed up their experience with Muggle sports.

“Hengist, Hengist!” Anne whispered. “What is it?” He wanted to know. “There are…they have…” Anne started. “No, you have to see for yourself.” She announced and dragged him away from Patience. Patience was so curious that she decided to follow them. She had to hurry and avoid the people her two friends had run over on their way. The way led her through almost every single corridor of the library until all of a sudden Hengist stopped and refused to go on. That was when Patience caught up with them. “I won’t make another step until you have told me where we are going.” The young man said firmly. Anne drew him closer. Patience came closer as well. “I went to their restricted section.” She revealed conspicuously.

Hengist replied in the same tone. “They have no restricted section in this library.” Anne shook her head violently. “You will see for yourself.” “I won’t go any further.” Hengist informed her. “That’s fine by me. Just turn around.” She turned him. His mouth fell open. He looked at fifty books which were bound with a chain to the shelf. “Oh my God!” Patience exclaimed. “Is everything alright?” A man who was obviously working for the library asked in a kind way. He was tall and had short black hair. He was the southern European type and smiled at the three friends. Patience swallowed. Anne who had by now quite gotten used to the idea of these books being chained to their shelf took the initiative. “Are these books by any chance…dangerous?” She asked pointing at the shelf. The man laughed. “Dangerous, but why!” He approached the shelf. The Malignant Magpies followed in a safe distance. “No, these are the books of law and some others you need for studying law. They are chained to the shelf to prevent their being stolen.” He explained.

“But who would steal a book? That’s disgusting!” Patience said angrily. “It’s good to know that you think it is so, however, not all students agree.” He drew closer and whispered. “The students of law are in fact the worst.” He put his finger to his mouth to indicate that this should be handled as a secret, though, judging from the fact that the only books chained to their shelf belonged to the law section of the library was all one needed to come up with that conclusion. The man had left them to their own thoughts. Patience started looking through one of the books. “Why would anyone steal a book?” She asked herself. Hengist who knew that his witch friends tended to be rather naïve tried to explain. “There are all sorts of people. Those who never touch a book, those who loathe them, those who read them because they have to, those who read everything they can lay their hands on and those who must possess any book they see.”

“That’s not right. There’s no place in the world for people who steal.” Anne said. “Why don’t witches and wizards stop that!” She complained. Hengist shook his head. “There are witches and wizards who are bad, just like there are muggles.” “And dwarves, giants, centaurs, gnomes,…” “Yes, thank you, Patience, we get the picture.” He interrupted her. “Fact is, if there weren’t thieves in this library you wouldn’t need the chain. The people who made the chain would be unemployed. In fact, the people in the library would be unemployed for if we all were honest all books would return without them. Without thieves there would be no police and now just imagine what kind of chaos you would have if there were so many people unemployed.” Patience and Anne thought about this for a moment. “Still I think it is not right.” Patience said firmly and returned to her working space. Anne shrugged and left as well. Hengist grabbed one of the books not caring which. He opened it and read: ‘We hold these truths to be sacred and undeniable; that all men are created equal and independent, that from that equal creation they derive rights inherent and inalienable, among which are the preservation of life, and liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.’ Somehow he had the feeling that he had given his friends the wrong explanation.

Hengist had learned how to cook. Or well, maybe not cook but how to prepare a meal which at least didn’t make you vomit. But one thing he was quite good at: pasta. And so he stood in the kitchen preparing another dish of pasta. “You know, Hengist, I could really eat it every day, however, do you think you could cut the sausage and the tomatoes into smaller pieces?” Anne asked walking into the kitchen and filling her glass with sparkling water. “Sure.” He replied. He really didn’t care, in fact, so far he had simply been too lazy to cut them into smaller pieces. Anne proceeded knowing that Hengist was busy preparing the sauce. When she had finished she left again.

Hengist was quite surprised and called for her. “Have you gone for good or will you return?” “Well, actually I was doing some reading in the living-room.” She explained. “I thought you’d help me.” He said. Anne shrugged and entered the kitchen again. “Just put these in the pot in layers please.” Anne took the pasta, put some tomatoes on it, then again pasta, then sausages for a change and then pasta, tomatoes and so on. Hengist watched her while he mixed the sauce. “Don’t you want to put the cheese into it as well?” He asked knowing that Anne loved cheese more than anything else in the world. He pointed at the bag of cut cheese lying at the other end of the kitchen. “Could’'t you have told me that earlier?!” Anne snapped. “It doesn’t matter. We can put it on top of it.” He tried to reconcile her.

“No, no.” Anne said unnerved. “Give me another plate.” She ordered. She was about to empty the form again and divided the food into pasta and sausages with tomatoes to undo her work and redo it and this time involving the cheese in the process of creation. Anne had always been especially stubborn and this quality resisted to decrease with her years of growing maturity. Hengist watched her and decided to not say anything at all. Now Anne faced a layer of pasta, tomatoes and sausages. She looked over to Hengist, took the bag with the cheese and spread it over the previous layers. He smiled at her. Anne went on. Patience joined them at the table. “This looks delicious.” She declared. “Did anything happen while I was gone?” Before Hengist could answer Anne shook her head. “No, everything is just as boring as usual.” Hengist grinned but remained quiet.

Hengist had been worrying all day long. Patience and Anne were doing the cleaning. They had ushered him out of the house turning it into a girls’ party where they would discuss his most abominable features and praise the visual qualities of fellow students. Lately he had annoyed them by telling them that the handsomest boy at university was actually gay. They hadn’t like this idea at all. That had been the truth. It couldn’t be helped. Hengist was already on his way back to their flat. He looked up at the large building. To his own surprise it was still standing. Maybe the girls had built it up by magic again. He shook his head. How could he mistrust their abilities in muggle cleaning methods?

“STOP IT, ANNE!” Patience shouted from the living-room. “I CAN’T!” Anne shouted back as Hengist opened the door. “Hey Hengist, how have you been.” Anne greeted him in passing. “What is going on here?” He asked closing the door behind himself hoping no muggle would ever see this. A carpet sweeper passed him closely followed by Anne. “Anne, I say, what is going on here?” Hengist asked again. She pierced out of her own room. “I’ve got everything under control.” That was just when the carpet sweeper passed her again. Patience had come out of the living-room to greet Hengist and had to jump aside to save her own life. “Hide in the fridge the carpet sweeper is on the loose!” Patience advised her friend before she jumped on the sofa again.

“Everything under control?” Hengist asked angrily. He had to jump aside again because the carpet sweeper came out of the kitchen again. “Totally!” Anne assured him still being after the carpet sweeper. The next thing that could be heard was a loud noise coming from Patience’s room. Carefully Patience and Hengist approached the scenery. The wardrobe had fallen on the floor and had buried the carpet sweeper and underneath all this lay Anne. “Are you alright?” Hengist asked concerned. Patience waved her wand and removed the things from Anne and the carpet sweeper. She got up and brushed the dust from her clothes. “Think, I’m fine.” Hengist detected a scratch on her hand. He took her hand. “Yes, obviously.” “How could this happen?” Patience asked. “I had just stopped the carpet sweeper, however, due to inertia my body went on and so we all crashed.” She pointed at the wardrobe and the carpet sweeper.

They had sat down in the kitchen and were drinking a nice cup of tea. “Can you tell me why on earth you had to clean by magic instead of do it the muggle way? I mean, look at all this mess!” Hengist said in a half-scolding way. “You should have seen this before.” Anne burst out and got kicked by Patience. “What she wants to say is that it had been quite dirty.” She corrected her friend. “No, certainly she had not meant this.” Hengist replied. Patience scratched her head. “Actually, we were not at all successful with cleaning the muggle way.” She confessed. “C’mon, it cannot have been that bad.” Hengist said. “Oh, believe me it can be.” Anne assured him. “Better you tell him.” She added. “First I fell over the bucket with the water for cleaning the floor.” Patience started. “Then I dropped the plates and glasses I had gathered from our rooms.” Anne continued. “The next thing that happened was that the hoover broke down and spread all the dust all over the rooms.” “The washing machine broke down and we had to take out the wet clothes.” “We took them to the bathroom and hung parts of it in the shower.” “The tap broke and we had a sort of rain in the bathroom from that time on.”

“Stop it, stop it, stop it! I don’t want to hear more.” Hengist interrupted them. “That’s just horrible! So you decided to do everything by magic.” “Exactly, a little Biffido here, a little Biffido there.” Anne told him. “Then we had finished but the carpet sweeper decided to go on on its own.” “We weren’t able to stop it and it got the faster the more we hunted it. It was quite scary, really!” Hengist shook his head. “Just promise me to never do the cleaning without me.” “You wouldn’t want to miss the show, would you!” Anne teased him. “We didn’t even find enough time to discuss Stephen’s butt in all its entirety.” Patience complained. “Stephen?” Hengist asked. “Don’t waste your time on him. He’s gay.” “Shut up!” Anne shouted angrily. “Another illusion destroyed.” Patience sighed. And so the afternoon leapt into the evening as the darkness fell and everything dissolved into nothingness.

It was a decision which had to be made. Anne had said she would pay for it. Somehow she had acquired a muggle driving license – in America, some things were easier to acquire in America. Patience was quite sceptic about the whole thing, she thought it very unwise to get in such a muggle machine, then again they would have to live like muggles and how do you get anywhere if you cannot apparate? The decision had been made and so the three went to the nearest car seller.

Hengist cleared his throat. They had already decided which car they wanted to have. It was cactus-green, had five doors and was approximately ten years old. Hengist cleared his throat again and this time the clerk looked up. He smiled and approached them. “Ladies and gentleman, what can I do for you?” He looked quite nice and Anne would have given his heart to him on the instant – if she hadn’t come to buy a car. Her plan was to be friendly but firm.

“We are interested in one of your used cars.” Hengist explained. “Yes, certainly, who wouldn’t!” The clerk laughed at his own joke while Anne reduced the price in her head by another 100 pound. “Which one is it?” “The cactus-coloured one.” Patience informed him. They approached it. It offered loads of room for three people and the things they would need to transport. And it didn’t seem to expensive too afford, though this didn’t matter at all.

“I must congratulate you, this is our most beautiful car…” The clerk started. “Can we have a look inside?” Anne asked. “Well, of course…” The clerk opened one of the doors. “No, I mean, can we have a look at the engine?” Hengist almost choked for Anne had no idea about cars, neither had he nor Patience. The clerk frowned with surprise but did as was requested. “This is the engine…” He was only able to say half of what he intended to or usually would for Anne kept interrupting him.

“Not very clean in here.” She stated. “It’s the engine, what did you expect?” “Maybe the dirt is there to cover some damages?” Anne looked deep into the eyes of the clerk. “No.” He replied. Anne decided to trust him but nevertheless touched everything inside leaving herself or rather her hands to oil and grease. She finally found something which she could draw out. Hengist’s heart almost stopped for he feared she had broken the car. The thing was close to dripping. Anne examined it carefully. “It’s enough oil.” The clerk assured her. ‘Oil.’ Anne thought and decided against touching it. She put it back. Everything seemed to be in its right place.

When the clerk had closed the cover again and Anne tried to clean her hands Hengist and Patience had a look at the inside. Hengist knew how to drive a car but hadn’t done so very often. Patience moved her seat about once she had understood how this worked. Anne walked around the car checking for possible damages. She bent down and had a closer look at the wheels. “If we buy the car it needs new wheels first.” “But this is a used car…” The clerk tried. “Yes, used, but not past recovery.” Anne stated and went on with her inspection. She opened the trunk and looked inside.

The clerk could not bring himself to leave her side for he feared she would eventually find anything. Anne turned the cover of the bottom. “What do we have here…” “The emergency wheel…” “Do you think I’m stupid?” She replied. The clerk shook his head. Anne took everything out of the trunk and checked it for possible mistakes. Hengist in the meanwhile discovered the horn and blew it. The clerk thought about the neighbours. Anne put everything inside the trunk again.

She turned and looked at the clerk again who tried to give her his best smile but failed noticing that Anne had some things to complain about. “There are no petrol can, no emergency triangle, no first-aid-kit and this is badly repaired.” She pointed at the cover. The clerk nodded but otherwise did not react. Anne closed the trunk and looking at him she shouted. “Get out you two we won’t buy it!”

“Wait, I mean, we can talk about these things…” “And what about new windscreen wipers?” She added demonstrating the poor quality of the old ones. “Yes, we can talk about that as well.” He had given up. Anne had reached the point where she would get anything she wanted. She gave him a smile. In fact, Anne did not want anything than what she had already requested. She signed the contract and gave the clerk a cheque. They agreed that she would pick it up in a week.

When they returned Anne checked everything. The clerk sweated but there was no reason for she was quite satisfied. “Thank you!” She said and took the keys of the car. “Get in kids, we’re driving home.” She announced. The clerk had seen Anne’s American driving license, however, he doubted that she would manage to get back to their home. He was glad that he wouldn’t be on the roads for the next couple of hours.

Anne had already tried the car when they had first looked at it – everybody had survived, very nearly. She started the engine. She changed gears and drove. The other clerks jumped aside as she passed them closely. Hengist had closed his eyes while Patience screamed with joy – or horror. But Anne managed. She drove according to the rules and only twice produced an almost-crash.

When they arrived in front of their house, Hengist opened his eyes carefully. “Oh, we’re there.” He said. He looked at himself and the two girls. “And we’re still alive and well – apart from a little sickness I feel in my stomach.” “Oh shut up Hengist!” Anne replied. “No, honestly Anne, we will go to a training ground.” He announced. Anne agreed to this and so he kept quiet.

Many witches and wizards will not believe it, however, an evening spent the muggle way is not too different from an evening spent the wizarding way. Of course, you will find no muggle listening to the Quidditch commentary or reading The Monster Book of Monsters. You must know that the muggle world offers quite similar activities to a tired mind and body. Soccer – or football as it is known in some places – offers possibilities comparable to those of Quidditch, except of flying. Unlike Quidditch, soccer is played with just one ball, mostly a black and white (plaits, not stripes) one which has the size of a Quaffle.

There are two teams and two goals. The goal is square and very big. Each team has eleven players which seem to have different positions related to those you will know from Quidditch: the keeper keeps the ball from hitting the goal. The chasers run around the pitch trying to get hold of the ball. The beaters help them in knocking out the players of the other team. Finally the seeker tries to get the ball and hit one of the goals – preferably that of the other team. Last but not least there is the referee. A man in black looking a lot like professor Snape, I’d say, and  having a habit of awarding coloured cards to the team members who broke the rules, yes, very much like professor Snape, sometimes the referee takes a wrong decision, exactly like professor Snape, but never gets punished, sic, because he is only human.

These games are mostly watched on TV either in a pub or at home with loads of friends around you. If you want to spend a quiet evening you should stay away from soccer – and pubs. The muggle world offers a lot of technology. There is the prominent TV set and computers which can be used for all sorts of activities, but mostly to waste your time. Therefore I won’t dwell on these activities, especially since they are much too simple for a wizard’s mind. The ancient alternative to the TV programme is the book.

Looking through the catalogue of a muggle library you will come across a great variety of topics. Apart from the different categories you will find novels, dramas, short stories and poems. In each genres there are some volumes called classics. These were mostly written a couple of hundred years ago, however, some are as recent as the sixties. You can never go wrong with a classic.

Performing household duties is another way of spending a quiet evening. Since muggles do not know how to cope with such things magically, they will spent hours doing the washing, although they have machines to compensate for their own inability. So the main difference to a wizarding household is that muggles will only be able to finish one task when a witch or wizard does the tasks of a whole week.

But most muggles don’t intend to spend their evenings quietly, well, we’re talking of muggle students. The pub is not the only option. There are a lot of discotheques and parties you can attend. These occasions are qualified by an overuse of music, alcohol and other drugs and…well, some other things which need not be mentioned at this point. Let’s discuss music first. I like music, extremely so, however, what muggles do is bodily harm. They put the volume to the maximum and place five loudspeakers in the room so that you won’t even get a chance to move far away enough from them in order not to go deaf during the first five minutes.

Alcohol and other drugs, I myself enjoy a nice cold beer or a glass of good wine. But – as with the music – muggles overdo it. How much can one drink in an hour? One glass, two glasses or maybe three? Well, if that is your guess, you’re certainly no muggle. They try to drink enough to lose conscience and consciousness in the first hour! As for other drugs, if the alcohol doesn’t kick in they will try to support it by all kinds of dubious substitutes. It is like drinking a poison out of the supply in Knockturn Ally.

Fortunately, there are some who enjoy just sitting with their best friends. They let the time pass by talking and laughing – very much like us. And if you will excuse me now. Anne and Patience are waiting in the living-room. Lisa’s out and so we will have some quiet fun discussing the funniest habits of our muggle fellow students and why we have to write such nonsense essays on muggles. Patience still hasn’t gotten over her essay on Easter…

“But it said so on the sign.” Anne defended herself. “Shut up.” Hengist barked. “You said I was to follow the instructions given…” She added. “At the automat, not in the elevator.” Hengist corrected her. “But…” “Anne, would you just shut up!” Hengist interrupted her. For the rest of the way home Anne kept quiet while Hengist murmured things like ‘how thick can you get’ and ‘whoever had the stupid idea to let her do advanced muggle studies’.

What follows is another of those priceless essays on my adventures in the muggle world. The task was to set out to a station of my choice – except of platform 9 ¾ in London – to buy a ticket (return) – to a destination of my choice except of platform 9 ¾ in London – and  to get there by train. Sounds easy. Let me assure you, it isn’t!

The muggle expert and muggle himself Hengist A. offered some instructions, namely ‘follow the instructions given’. Unfortunately he did not specify who or what was giving these instructions, although he says he did. When I arrived at the station – which better remains unnamed – I set out to the nearest automat which was to give me a ticket.

It did not for it was broken. I could see another of the  ticket automats on the next platform and hurried to get there. In this part of the task the elevator came in quite handy – that’s at least what I thought. I entered it and pressed the up-down button for there was only one. Underneath this button, instructions were given.

You must remember – at this point of the story – that I had been especially instructed to follow the instructions given. It read: ‘Press the emergency button for at least three seconds, help will communicate to you through the intercom system.’

Of course I did not hesitate to follow these. The next thing I know is that, after a quite confusing communication which involved yelling of the other communicator, I found myself in a very official looking office being questioned by one of the higher officers of this station.

I really tried to explain my action, however, they didn’t agree with my logic that the sign was wrong because it did not point out that these instructions were only valid in case of an emergency – how on earth should an innocent witch know that you don’t press this stupid button???

They called Hengist who saved me from being imprisoned – I fear. He’s quite angry now, so I think it better to note this task down as being failed. I will try my luck with next month’s task unless it will involve another sort of public transportation.

To sum things up: muggle transportation sucks, apparating is great. I hope you found my thoughts enlightening, magical greetings, Anne.

“Yes, mum. Of course, I’ll ask them, no they’re not here at the moment.” Patience walked passed Hengist. Hengist hoped she wouldn’t ask who wasn’t there. She didn’t. “Yes, tell dad I love him too. See you at Easter. Bye. Yes, certainly I’m changing my underwear daily. My socks? Every second day…but…” It had been the third time that he had said good bye to his mum and still she refused to hang up. “Shall we help him?” Patience asked. Anne wasn’t sure. Together they went to the door. They opened it. Hengist gestured something to them which they pretended to not understand. Finally he fell on his knees and mouthed: ‘Ring!’ Patience and Anne repeated his mouth movements. “I think he said ‘wing’.” Anne whispered. “I’d say he said ‘sing’.” Patience suggested. “Makes definitely more sense than ‘wing’.” Anne decided. “What shall we sing?” Hengist and his mother were deep in the conversation of daily hygiene. Anne grinned. She whispered a few words into Patience’s ear. She laughed and nodded. They started singing a song from a toilet cleaner advertisement.

“The radio, mum, I must have forgotten turn it off when you rang. Hang on, I think someone rang the doorbell.” Patience and Anne were quite surprised they hadn’t heard anything. Patience opened the door. “There’s no one.” She said disappointedly. Hengist rolled his eyes. Anne decided to help Hengist and so she rang the doorbell. “Yes, I told you there was someone at our door. No, good bye, bye, mum, bye.” He hang up. “Didn’t I ask you to ring the doorbell when my mum and me were talking for more than an hour?” He scolded them. “Right, wasn’t that why we had gotten up. Sorry Hengist, we forgot.” Patience tried. “Very funny.” “Why don’t you simply tell your mum that you want to hang up?” Anne asked on their way back into the living-room. “Because not everybody is as impolite as you are!” Patience commented. Anne frowned. “What?” “You must face it, you are impolite. You would hang up the phone after your parents said their name.” Hengist replied. Anne shrugged. “At least they won’t have me talking for hours with them via such a machine.”

“Never mind that now!” Hengist intervened. “My parents invited you to our house for Easter.” “Easter at a muggle house?” Patience asked. “With your parents running after us and asking if we were okay. And taking us to all your relatives and showing us every single sight in your hometown?” Anne wanted to know. “Yes, will be pretty much like that.” Hengist confessed. “Cool!” Anne stated. “Yes!” Patience agreed. “I had always wanted to know what you live like when you’re not with us.” She added. “Really, it’s nothing spectacular.” He said. “Nothing spectacular, boy, you’re living at a true muggle house with true muggle people!” Anne reminded him. “Well, so do we here.” Hengist replied. “Lisa doesn’t count!” Patience informed him. “When are we leaving?” Anne asked and was almost on the way to pack her things. “Thursday evening, if you like.” He suggested. “Splendid!” Patience exclaimed. “Marvellous!” Anne agreed. They disappeared to their respective rooms Hengist stayed behind after a few moments they returned.

“Hang on, what do you bring as a gift for Easter to muggles?” Anne was the first to ask. “Well, traditionally it would be eggs.” Patience’s nose screwed up. She disliked eggs in any form except chocolate and marzipan. She went to the kitchen and returned with a box filled with eggs. “Doesn’t make a very beautiful present. Happy Easter. You muggles are strange.” She concluded. Hengist had to laugh. “But she’s right.” Anne helped out. Hengist nodded. “You paint the eggs and put them in a nest pretty much the way it is done in the wizarding world.” He informed them. “A nest?” Anne asked. “Where would one get a nest? Are we to steal it from the birds?” Hengist shook his head. “You take a plastic or straw basket and fill it with fake grass.” He explained. “Fake grass?” Patience repeated. “That doesn’t sound good.” She added. “I will take care of those.” Hengist promised.

The next morning both Patience and Anne woke up especially early and so they met at six a.m. in the kitchen. “Morning.” Anne greeted Patience when she entered the kitchen. “Good morning.” Patience replied in a surprised voice. “Seems we both can’t sleep.” Anne commented. “Yes, what can we do?” Patience asked. Anne scratched her nose. “We could paint the eggs.” Patience suggested. Anne nodded. “Sounds like a good idea. I’ll fetch the watercolours.” Anne said and disappeared. Patience fetched a couple of egg cups. One of them she filled with water. Then she placed the eggs on the table. Anne returned. “Great, you’ve already prepared everything.” She said happily. Anne turned the radio on and sat down.

“No black one this time for Snape will hopefully not be invited.” She stated. Patience grinned. “Mine will get tiny flowers.” She decided. Anne scratched her nose. “And mine will simply be very colourful.” She stated and put a thick layer of yellow on her egg. They painted on for an hour until Hengist got up. “Morning girls!” He greeted them. “Morning Hengist!” They wished him in one voice. “What are you doing?” He asked rather sleepily and so it took a little while until he had realized how stupid this question must have sounded. “Oh, you’re painting eggs.” He stated. He got himself a plate and a mug and decided to have breakfast first. He desperately needed a coffee. He took a little bit of milk but when he returned the little can he hit over one of Anne’s eggs which noisily fell on the ground. It broke. The yoke painted the floor orange. Hengist stared at it for a moment.

“This was raw.” He stated turning towards Anne. “Raw or not, you could at least apologize!” Anne said angrily. “Sorry, Anne but you cannot paint raw eggs.” Hengist intervened. “Don’t try to get yourself out of this so easily!” She snapped still not seeing the problem, however the truth had worked its way into Patience’s head. “Oh, Anne, we’ve forgotten to cook them!” She exclaimed. She put down the brush. So did Anne. “Damn, I knew we had forgotten something!” She said angrily to herself. “Maybe we can still use them.” Patience tried and looked at Hengist for help. “Scrambled eggs?” He suggested. “Maybe we can still boil them.” Patience wondered. “How?” Hengist asked and took one of the eggs. “These are watercolours. They will be washed off.” “We can give them to Lisa.” Anne threw in. Hengist shook his head vehemently while Patience agreed.

“Who votes in favour of magic?” Anne asked formally and raised her own hand Patience did the same. “Two against one, Hengist, you are outnumbered. Anne and Patience performed a couple of spells and looked at four beautiful Easter nests. The eggs were beautifully coloured and some sweets had been added to them. They lay in real straw in baskets made of real wood. The eggs were cooked and everything was simply perfect. “Your parents will love you for that!” Patience stated. “I still don’t see why we have to give a nest to Lisa as well.” Anne complained. “Because she is our room-mate and has to put up with us.” Patience reminded her. “Who has to put up with whom!” Hengist remarked.

“Hengist you still must tell us what to pack!” Anne told her friend. “Well, the same as if you were going to your own family.” He said with a voice full of doubt. Anne wasn’t sure if her own family was the measure of all things and she wondered if a dinner at the Alrets’ house really needed formal dressing, judging from Hengist’s own clothes: no. While Anne packed a little bit of everything, Patience was quite sure her usual clothes would suffice, though she packed two or three beautiful dresses for the holidays. All of Hengist’s formal clothes were at his home with his parents and he had loads of clothes there as well and so he decided to travel light. On Thursday evening they met in the corridor. Lisa was out at some party.

“Ready to go?” Hengist asked. The young women nodded and so they all disapparated and apparated in the middle of the Alrets’ living-room. “Waycool!” A small boy announced. Anne was quite surprised. “I didn’t know you had a little brother.” Hengist greeted the young fellow. “He’s not my little brother, he’s some distant cousin. His name is Adrian. Adrian, these are my friends Anne and Patience.” “Are you real witches?” He asked staring at them in excitement. “Yes.” Patience replied looking questioningly at Hengist. “He knows all about our world.” Hengist informed them. “But he’s – well, three years old what if he tells anybody about it?” Patience wanted to know. “Exactly, he’s three years old, nobody believes him if he tells them of witches and wizards and everything.” Hengist assured them. “Nobody would believe a grown up person!” Anne added. She shook Adrian’s hand. “And you are a real muggle, I presume. Great to meet you.”

Adrian beamed at her. “I’ll show you my room!” He announced and dragged her away. “Definitely cute!” Patience announced. Hengist took Anne’s luggage and carried it outside of the living-room. In front of the door he ran into his mum. “Hengist, for heaven’s sake, you nearly gave me a heart-attack!” “Sorry mum, we apparated in the living-room.” He apologized. “I’ll never get used to that apparating.” She sighed touching her forehead to see if she was still alive. “This is…” “…Anne, of course, I know everything about you…” Hengist’s mother started. “Sorry, I’m Patience, maybe Hengist lost one or two words about me as well.” She said jokingly. “Well, of course, how stupid of me. I’m sorry. Welcome to our house.” She looked around. “But, duckling, where is Anne?” Patience suppressed her laughter. “Adrian shows her his room.” He explained. “We’ll fetch her upstairs and then come down again for a little refreshment.” His mother nodded.

“…and this is my fire engine. It has real signal lights. Look!” The lights of the truck-like thing went on and blinked. “That is really cool. So, you like fire?” Anne asked carefully thinking she had a little pyromaniac in front of her. “No, I want to be a fire man and fight fire. Then I will sit in the fire engine and save people’s lives.” He declared. “That sounds like something good.” Anne decided and was relieved, however, had she known that most of the pyromaniacs were fire fighters she would have had different thoughts. “Adrian, we need Anne. She must unpack and then she will certainly be hungry and thirsty.” Hengist told the child. He looked rather disappointed to hear this news. “She will stay a couple of days, I’m sure you will have loads of time to play.” Hengist assured him. Anne smiled and nodded. Adrian was satisfied.

While they unpacked and had their little refreshment Hengist’s parents talked. “Usually I would knock on the wall and tell the mice to get lost, but it will sound weird to Hengist’s friends, won’t it?” Mrs. Alret asked her husband. “Not only to his friends. C’mon honey, the mice will already have gone hearing us talk here.” He assured her. “Very well then.” The Alrets gathered some boxes out of a small storage room and placed them on a little table. They were joined by Adrian. “Can we open them now?” He asked eagerly. “No, we have to wait a little. First we have to cut some twigs anyway or else we won’t have anything to place the things on.” Mrs. Alret explained. Adrian went away and returned with Anne.

“What ho Alrets all.” She greeted them. “She will help us to unpack.” Adrian announced. Mr. Alret frowned. “Will she, well do you really want to Miss Symmons?” He asked. “Sure, sir!” She replied. “Well, then while you do that my wife and I will go to get some twigs. We will be back, I think, in fifteen minutes or so.” Mr. Alret went to put on his shoes. “Could you select the decoration for the twigs, that would be great and, yes, some little bunnies to place on the tables.” Anne nodded. “Then I will see you soon.” Mrs. Alret left. Adrian and Anne started with the smallest box. “What is in here?” Anne asked holding a small box. She opened it. “Oh, look, it’s the treacherous trio!” She said in surprise producing three rather stupid looking male bunnies. “Who is the treacherous trio?” Adrian asked. “Did Hengist never tell you of our old school-mates Vargas, Cook and Banks?” She replied in a surprised voice. “No!” Adrian stated. So while they unpacked Anne told Adrian a couple of stories about them.

“You better carry these downstairs. We run out of space here. And the last one is a real big box.” Anne ordered. Adrian did as he was told. Anne opened the last box. It was filled with plastic baskets and paper plates. She was quite disappointed when she found fake grass as well. “Well, there must be something in here much better than this.” She decided. She lifted the paper plates. Something jumped out of the box. Terrified. Anne screamed. It was a mouse. A big, brown mouse. It stopped on the stairs. When Anne had found her speech again she tried to talk to the mouse. “Calm down little mouse. We are both very excited. Just keep cool and I will see if I find a nice little box where I can put you into.” Anne said as calmly as possible and tried to have a look around while keeping a watchful eye on the mouse, however, when she had finally found a basket the mouse had disappeared.

“Why did you scream?” Hengist’s mum appeared accompanied by Adrian. “A mouse jumped out of this box.” Anne explained. “Waycool!” Adrian said all excitedly. “Where did it go?” He looked around. “Sorry, I lost sight of it.” Anne apologized rather to Mrs. Alret than to little Adrian. “My poor girl, you must have been so scared.” Mrs. Alret soothed her. “It wasn’t that bad. I’m usually not afraid of mice only I was so surprised by it.” Mrs Alret nodded. “I will prepare you a nice cup of tea.” She led Anne away as if she were an invalid. Adrian stayed behind hoping he would be able to detect the mouse.

“Really Mrs. Alret, I’m fine.” Anne protested as her hostess placed a cup of valerian tea in front of her. “After all it has only been a mouse.” Mr. Alret had watched the scene. “Honestly, Phebe, the girl’s alright. Just because you are afraid of mice that doesn’t necessarily mean that the rest of the world is afraid of them, too.” Mrs. Alret looked at him. “And just because you don’t take my fear seriously doesn’t mean that nobody else does, Frederick.” Anne didn’t believe it she had gotten herself into a major Easter family crisis she was very curious what would happen next. “Of course, I take your fear seriously, only Miss Symmons doesn’t seem to be afraid at all. She got scared for a short moment when something she couldn’t identify jumped out of the box as soon as she had realized that it had been a mouse she was alright.” He explained. Mrs. Alret looked at Anne who nodded. She sipped at the tea.

Mrs. Alret laughed. “Seems that I overreacted a bit.” Her husband took her in his arms. “No, you didn’t.” He kissed her. Anne was a little disappointed because no crockery had been thrown. That had been the usual course of any conflicts at her home. She swallowed some of the tea and realizing that everything was over she decided to return to her friends. “Thanks for the tea. I feel much better now. I’ll just go and check where the others have gone to.” She announced. “Oh, they will be in the living-room and do the decoration.” Mr. Alret told her. And indeed, in the living-room she found Hengist and Patience. They put the twigs in vases when she arrived. She watched them for a moment. “Don’t you think some more of these would be better?” Patience asked. Hengist frowned. “I’m not sure.” He stepped backwards and almost tumbled over Anne.

“Hey, you could have said that you were there.” He scolded her. “Sorry, pal, I was overwhelmed by your flowery arrangements. Quite breathtaking, really. So what are these?” She wanted to know. “Yellow plum and forsythia. When I was young we had catkin twigs as well.” Patience grinned. “And now that you have grown old and grey you don’t have them any more. Those golden days of youth.” She sighed. “You are horrible.” Hengist commented. “What I wanted to say was when I was a child of around ten or so. I know that my best years are still to come.” “Knock on Wood!” Anne commented and knocked softly on Patience’s arm. Adrian joined them. “Are you performing magic?” He asked eagerly. Hengist shook his head. “No, Adrian, not now.” Adrian looked sad.

“But you told me of your professor who always decorated the Christmas tree magically.” “You told him about Flitwick?” Anne was surprised. “Really, Hengist, you shouldn’t give away too much.” Hengist shook his head. “I only tell him in the evening as a bedtime story.” He reported. Anne turned. “Hope you never told him about Snape, that would have turned into a nightmare.” Hengist shook his head. “Who is Snape?” Adrian asked. “Never mind, little man.” Hengist replied. “He’s just another of our teachers.” Patience explained. Anne frowned. “Is?” She asked dazzled. “Well, then he was, doesn’t matter!” She said. “Well, I think it does, just imagine we still had to go to potions Friday morning and having no homework.” She shuddered. “C’mon, it wasn’t that bad!” Patience defended the subject. “Are you already idealizing your youth? You’re not that old yet!” Anne complained. “Maybe she really has forgotten.” Hengist threw in. “A lot of things have happened since.” “Forgotten? Rather suppressed.” Anne decided.

“What is he like?” Adrian wanted to know. “Just like any other teacher.” Patience replied and withdrew from the conversation. “Nothing spectacular, Adrian.” Hengist added. Adrian looked at Anne hoping to get more detailed information from her. She only shrugged. “It’s two to one. I’m outvoted.” She declared. Seeing his sad eyes she added. “About whom did Hengist tell you something?” He beamed. “There is this huge man, taller than a mountain and a beard as long as a giraffe’s neck. He has eyes as big as car wheels and as dark as the night. And when he laughs he causes an earthquake…” Anne looked over to Hengist who grinned silently. “How could you tell him such horrible stories!” Anne said reproachfully. “Why horrible?” Adrian asked. “Just because he is huge doesn’t mean he is bad!” The little boy declared. Anne was surprised. “Oh, sorry, I never thought of that.” She returned to the decoration while Adrian repeated the most fantastic stories he could remember.

“Adventures – I used to think that they were things the wonderful folk of the stories went out and looked for, because they wanted them, because they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a kind of sport, as you might say.” Anne said thoughtfully. “But that’s not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind. Folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually – their paths were laid that way, as you put it. I wonder if we shall be put into songs or tales.” Patience mused “We’re in one!” Hengist said. “Of course; but I mean: put into words, you know, told by the fireside, or read out of a great big book with red and black letters, years and years afterwards, and people will say: ‘Let’s hear about Hengist and Mungus!’ And they’ll say: ‘Yes, that’s one of my favourite stories. Mungus was very brave, wasn’t he dad?’ ‘Yes, my boy, the famousest of the toads, and that’s saying a lot.’” Patience dreamed.

“It’s saying a lot too much!” Hengist said, and he laughed, a long clear laugh from his heart. Such a sound had not been heard in those places since Voldemort came to the wizarding world. “To hear you somehow makes me as merry as if the story was already written. But you’ve left out one of the chief characters: Patience the stouthearted. ‘I want to hear more about Patience, dad. Why didn’t they put in more of her talk, dad? That’s what I like, it makes me laugh. And Mungus wouldn’t have got far without Patience, would he, dad?’” Anne added. “You shouldn’t make fun, I was serious.” Patience interrupted her. “Us in tales?” Hengist asked. “I would love that!” Adrian exclaimed. Anne laughed and shook her head. “I cannot imagine that.” She said. “This is real life and not fiction. I wouldn’t even know what to call it.” “The Malignant Magpies!” Hengist said. “I mean, that’s who we are.”

Patience and Anne did not have enough time to think about this for Hengist’s mum entered the room. “This looks really beautiful.” She kissed Hengist who according to his custom blushed. “I helped them aunt Phebe!” Adrian reported. She hugged him and tidied his hair a bit. “I knew you would. They couldn’t have done it without you.” She caressed him. “But now it’s time to go to bed.” Anne looked at her. She checked her watch. “It’s only seven, usually we stay up much longer.” Phebe laughed. “Not you, Miss Symmons, it’s time for bed for Adrian. And look how tired he is.” Adrian yawned. “Hengist takes me to bed!” Adrian shouted and jumped into Hengist’s arms. “Yes and so he will.” She decided. “More stories about the Malignant Magpies!” Mrs. Alret frowned but didn’t think about it further. “In the meantime, would you help me to carry these into the various rooms?”

In the evening – much later than seven – the Malignant Magpies met in Hengist’s room. It was terribly cosy. A big bed stood underneath the window. Patience laid in it, however, Hengist had given his cushion to Anne who still preferred to sit on the floor. He had no carpet. Hengist shared the bed with Patience. “What a day!” Anne said. “An awful arrival, a monstrous mouse, disastrous decorations and terrific tales.” Patience summarized. Anne shook her head. “I was a little scared – after the accident at one particular Easter. But now…” She looked at Hengist. “…but now that I’m here at this hilarious house with this fantastic family.” She smiled. Hengist was relieved. He felt even more cosy now that his friends were with him. Soon he fell asleep. Anne returned the cushion and Patience put the cover on Hengist. They sneaked out of his room.

“It’s just as if we were still at Hogwarts during the holidays.” Anne said. “Ah, there you are!” A voice called out of the dark. Patience and Anne jumped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to scare you.” Mrs. Alret said turning on the light. “I just wanted to ask you what you want for breakfast. Hengist often told us about the various food offered at Hogwarts.” Patience smiled. “Don’t worry about that as long as it is food it will be alright for us.” Anne nodded. “No need to worry about us. Witches and wizards are just like muggles. Hengist himself is quite normal, though he might not be the measure of everything.” Mrs. Alret looked at her feet. She cleared her throat and looked at Patience and Anne. “Actually I wanted to talk to you about that.” She started. She led them away from Hengist’s door. “I’m a little worried about Hengist because…” She paused. “… because he is not normal.” Patience frowned. “He is clumsy but that’s no reason to worry. He could be much worse…” Anne put her hand on Patience’s arm. She stopped.

“Hengist is gay. Don’t get me wrong, that’s alright for my husband and me but, we are a little worried. He talked so much about you and I thought, I thought there was more between you and Hengist.” She looked at Patience who almost choked. “Mrs. Alret, I can assure you that there is nothing between Hengist and Patience except friendship.” Anne explained. “I really love him, Mrs. Alret, but only as a  friend and even if I felt more still he would never fall for me. And I love him even more for that.” Mrs. Alret smiled. “It was only he talked so much about you and about you of course. I thought he might have changed his mind. I had hoped he was happy.” “He is happy. Don’t worry about him. He has a loving family, a wonderful little relative, two maybe not so great friends and a hopelessly annoying muggle roommate. He could not help it but be happy.” Anne explained. Hengist’s mum smiled. “You are right, I’ve never seen it like that. I’m sorry “to have bothered you. I feel quite stupid now.” Anne shook her head and Patience went on. You’re not stupid and you don’t have to be sorry. You love your son and that is the best a mother can do.” “Never hesitate if you are in doubt. We love Hengist as well.”

When Hengist woke up the next morning he remembered a poem he had dreamed during the night. He decided to write it down from his memory and to tell it to Adrian as another bedtime story. The poem went as follows:

Easter Mice

It’s a fact not widely known

Mice bring eggs to our door,

And not what legend says for

A rabbit has never shown.

As an annual thanks to

Children for the crumbs in bed,

On which they can daily fed

And during the night time, too.

So make sure to get it right

Next time Easter does arrive

Do not keep the myth alive

Bunnies bring the eggs at night,

But mice do that noble deed.

Always think of mice in bed

Leave crumbs on which they can fed

For they really are in need.

He checked the watch. It was half past six. ‘Good Friday.’ He thought. ‘That would be a nice chance to make breakfast for his parents, Adrian and of course Patience and Anne. Silently he opened the door of his room and sneaked downstairs into the kitchen. He noticed that it was re-decorated. His mum had a habit of doing so every six month and just when he had gotten used to it she would change it again. “Dough for fresh rolls!” He whispered and checked the cupboards – no dough to be found. He gathered the plates and cups and carried them into the living-room where the Alrets used to eat on festive occasions. Since the dough couldn’t be found he decided to prepare the hot chocolate first. It was funny everybody in this family liked hot chocolate – any time of the day. Hengist was relieved the milk could always be found in the fridge. He opened it and there he not only found the milk but also the dough for the rolls. He warmed the milk while he formed the rolls and put them on a piece of baking paper – he could not find the trays for the oven. He opened the oven to put the paper into it and there they were. He sighed for they were hot now. Carefully he put the rolls on the tray and closed the oven again. In the meantime the milk had left the pot.

He put it on the window sill and hoped it was still alright when it had cooled down a bit. He tried to find the instant chocolate. After half an hour he found it in a box that said flour on the side. The rolls had turned quite dark but Hengist judged them to still be eatable. He put them into a little basket and placed them in the middle of the table in the living-room next to the butter. ‘Hot chocolate.’ He thought and returned to the kitchen to find that the milk had turned cold again. He warmed it again and shovelled some of the instant chocolate into the can. He returned to the milk just in time to prevent it from flowing out of the pot again. He poured it into the can and carried it into the living-room.

“I’m starving!” Anne said as she and Patience approached the kitchen. “No, no, no, go to the living-room.” Hengist shouted from out of the living-room. Patience looked at Anne and shrugged. They entered the room and saw Hengist wearing one of his mother’s aprons – a pink one with tiny flowers and a lot of frills. Anne turned and left the room again. Hengist looked questioningly at Patience. She shrugged again. “She must have forgotten something.” Indeed, Anne had left the room because she had to laugh so much. She met Hengist’s parents on the way upstairs. “Dear, is everything alright?” Hengist’s mum asked – as always – concerned. “She’s laughing Phebe, one cannot feel better than laughing!” He told her. Anne couldn’t say a word, the image of Hengist wearing the apron was far too prominent in her mind.

Hengist’s parents entered the living-room. “Hengist, that is beautiful!” Mrs. Alret exclaimed. “I gathered the flowers!” Adrian informed them, sprang from his chair and hugged his uncle and aunt. “And he did a brilliant job!” Patience said looking at the goose flower bunch in the middle of the table. They sat down. “Do you think we should wait for Anne?” Adrian asked carefully with his hand already outstretched for one of the rolls. Patience shook her head. “You never know what comes to Anne’s mind who knows she might never return.” Adrian got sad. “Do you really think she has left?” “No, of course not. Patience meant to say that Anne has a natural talent to disappear every now and then. She will certainly not miss breakfast!” “She will if we start before she’s back.” “Point taken.” Hengist had to admit.

His father looked at the table and the food and drinks on it. He was quite hungry. “It would be a pity if the hot chocolate turned cold. And the rolls look so delicious…” Patience got very hungry as well. “Since I prepared it I think I have the right to say: tuck in!” He grabbed a roll. Adrian was next. Phebe lifted the basket and offered it to Patience. Patience took one and thanked her. Next she offered it to Frederick who kissed her before he took a roll. Phebe was the last one to take a roll. Hengist was busy filling the different cups with hot chocolate. Hengist prepared the roll for Adrian. Or he tried to. The others had similar problems: the rolls were hard as stones. His father laid the roll aside and decided to have a sip of hot chocolate first. He spit it out. The milk was sour and so was his dad. “I’ll go out!” He announced. Phebe tried to save the situation. “We can all go and have a nice breakfast.” She cooed into her husband’s ear. He stopped his movement. Patience soothed Hengist while Adrian banged to rolls into each other and saying ‘bang, bang’.

Anne returned to that mess. She frowned. “Did I miss anything?” She asked. “LOOK!” Adrian called and banged the two rolls. “Great, but I always thought one shouldn’t play with food.” “That’s no food!” Frederick informed her. Anne looked questioningly at Hengist. “Seems I’m not as good a cook as I thought.” He shrugged. “Well, as long as I get a hot chocolate…” Anne reached out for the can. “NO!” Everybody shouted. Anne jumped backwards. “What’s wrong?” She asked. “The milk is sour!” Adrian told her happily. Anne shook her head. “We’re just on the way to have breakfast in a pub.” Phebe explained to her. Anne who strongly disliked muggle pubs – having met with them on her trips – took out her wand, waved it and the most wonderful food appeared. The hot chocolate steamed and the rolls smelled. Frederick sat down again. “Bon appétit – as the Italians would say!” “French!” Anne corrected Hengist. “Then ‘tuck in’.” Patience ordered.

After breakfast they went out for a walk. Hengist’s parents showed them the most prominent sights and famous buildings. Patience, Anne and even Hengist learned a lot that day. In the evening they were horribly tired and fell into their beds. Anne was especially happy to spend some time in this muggle family and she was able to provide an almost daily report on their activities addressed to Arthur Weasley with whom she had been friends since they met in her first year at Hogwarts. Patience wrote a long letter to her family. Hengist was simply glad that he could go to bed right away and used the time until he fell asleep to eat a little snack.rooms. And so the first day slowly ended.

The next day promised to be a hard one for the Alrets were invited to an all family members meeting at his cousin’s house. “Peter is – mmh – different.” Hengist had announced in the morning. “What do you think he meant?” Anne asked in the bathroom while Patience was brushing her teeth. She shrugged. “Maybe he’s extremely good-looking.” Anne suggested jokingly. “I think he would have told us that!” Patience thought aloud. “Then he is extremely ugly!” Anne replied. “Well, he could have told us that, just as well.” Patience reminded her. Anne shrugged. Together they went downstairs. Frederick had already started the car when his wife, Adrian, Hengist and the other girls entered the car. “Last year you told me to remind you that we won’t go there next year.” Phebe said in a low voice. “Don’t you think it will be wonderful to see all those old faces again?” Frederick replied. “Well you denied that last time.” Frederick didn’t reply to that. They drove for almost two hours until they arrived. It was a big house that provided loads of room for all the family members. And there were a lot!

“Peter?” Frederick asked as a middle-aged man opened the door for them. “No, Patrick and you are?” “Frederick Alret with family.” He introduced themselves. “You’re an uncle of Peter’s, are you? Then you must be some sort of a second cousin to me. Welcome!” He greeted all of them and opened the door widely to let them in. Peter was nowhere to be found but they had no time to be sad about this because there were so many people around. Patience and Anne shook hands with a dozen people before Hengist had managed to say that they were not members of the family. Soon Patience and Anne were left alone – well deserted by the Alrets, or better those they knew. “That man is laughing a lot.” Patience whispered guiding Anne’s gazes towards a young man who walked downstairs greeting the people left and right and laughing in the pauses between.

“Hey ye! Good to see somebody my age!” He greeted them. “Pity we are related, think we could have a great deal of fun with each other.” He laughed again. Anne rolled her eyes and turned away a little. “And you are?” He added after a short pause. Anne turned. “Luckily not related to you we’re here with the Alrets.” “The Frederick Alrets.” Patience added. “Then one of you must be Hengist’s girlfriend.” He looked at them questioningly. “Obviously.” Anne said and added. “Excuse us, I think someone just called our names.” She dragged Patience away with her. “Did you have to tell him that we were here with the Frederick Alrets?” Anne spat. “Well, you told him that we were no relation of his.” “Hey, I was the one who saved us!” She reminded her friend. Patience shrugged. “Do you think we’ll find our Alrets again?” She wanted to know.

“ANNE!” Little Adrian shouted and jumped into Anne’s arms almost causing her to fall backwards. “Hey, how have you been?” She asked happily. “Fine! I want you to meet some friends of mine.” He announced. “Turn right!” He commanded. “Go to the left room and out of the house. Then go to the group of men.” Anne did as she was told. “That’s my aunt Lydia. She’s my favourite relative together with uncle Frederick, aunt Phebe, Hengist, Carol, Phil…” “Love, I guess we get the picture, you love all of us.” Aunt Lydia interrupted him. “No!” Adrian stated. “Well, whom don’t you like?” The aunt wanted to know. “Peter!” He replied. “That’s alright, love, nobody likes Peter.” Anne who had stayed calm could hardly prevent herself from talking. “And this is my best friend Anne.” Adrian introduced her. “Hello Anne, my name is Lydia.” They shook hands.

“You must be Hengist’s girl-friend.” The aunt said suddenly. Anne went pale. “Yes, and she’s mine as well. I’ve even got an Easter present for her. I already hid it!” Adrian burst out before Anne could say anything. “I’m quite happy that he has found a girl after all. Where did you meet?” “At school and now we go to university together. We share a flat at Oxford.” Anne reported before Adrian could boast about indiscreet magic facts. “Do you plan to get married?” The aunt asked. Anne’s mouth opened, however, it did not know what to say. “One never knows.” She finally came up with. The aunt nodded. “Yes, but now that the first step is done and you’ve met with the family…” That was the moment when Anne seriously considered to start a row with Hengist just to make their break up more explicit to the others. She smiled.

“Hello love.” Hengist greeted her and put his hand on her back. “Hengist, what a nice surprise.” Anne continued smiling. “I thought you needed something to drink.” He told her. “Excuse us.” Anne put down Adrian who went back to playing with some of the other younger children. “What exactly, did you tell your relatives about Patience and me?” Anne asked as calmly as possible. “That you were my closest friends the ones I loved most and couldn’t be without.” He replied truthfully. Anne nodded. “And did you, by any chance, tell them that there was more between us than just pure and platonic friendship?” “No.” “Then, maybe, you told them that there was nothing more than pure and platonic friendship between us?” He frowned. “No.” “I thought so.” She nodded. “I’m deeply sorry for that.” “What?” She swung back her hand and aimed to strike him. However, he stopped her arm in midair. “What’s going on?” He said. “I just wanted to break up with you before the end of this family meeting.” She said smilingly. “We don’t have to break up we’re not together.” He said in a surprised voice. “Yes, but unfortunately you seem to be the only person around here who knows that!” Anne spat. “That’s not true. Patience knows and my parents of course, and don’t forget Adrian!” He reminded her. “Adrian is the one who told aunt Lydia that we were in love.” “Yes, aunt Lydia is a bit conservative and if she learned I lived with a girl and not being at least engaged to her…” Anne shook her head. “You’re not living with one girl, Hengist, we are three! What does your aunt make of that?” “I think you need a drink!” He stated and led her away.

“You’re not Hengist’s girlfriend then?” Peter asked Patience. “No.” She had to reply not wanting to get Hengist into trouble. “For how long do you know him now?” Peter asked. “Several years.” “And still not tired of him, well, I tell you something if you like him you will love me!” “I doubt that.” Patience replied turning away looking out for anyone she knew. So many people around and she didn’t know anyone. Peter appeared in front of her again. “Since you are left by everyone let me show you around. I’ve got some beautiful rooms. Wait until you see my bedroom…” Patience rolled her eyes but Peter already drew her away. He showed her every single room holding her arm tight as if he wanted to prevent her from running away and so he probably did.

Hengist’s cousin was extremely talkative. “So little Hengist has a thing going on with that dark haired girl – quite impressive – I always thought he wasn’t interested in the opposite sex. But let’s not waste our time talking about him how about you?” Patience wasn’t sure if he really intended to ask her about her sexual preference, however, she knew him long enough to expect the worst. “I…” She started but was interrupted immediately by Peter. “I can understand that you are lost for words. Did you notice, we are all alone.” The last part he had whispered into her ear. He smelled of peppermint. “And what a coincidence, this is my bedroom.”

“Did you see Peter with his girl-friend?” Hengist asked when Anne had cooled down a bit. “I don’t know who Peter is. How should I know if I have seen him with his girl-friend.” Anne replied sipping at her orange juice. “Right, well, I haven’t seen him for a while. Well, last time he was short, had a lot of pimples and his dark blond hair was quite long. And yes, he was about my age.” Anne looked at him. “He was your age? Do you think that could have changed as well?” Hengist thought about this for a moment. “You never know.” He finally decided. “I haven’t seen anyone fitting your description. And especially not with a woman.” Anne informed him. Hengist shrugged. “Did you see the food?” Hengist asked and dragged her over to the kitchen.

They met Frederick Alret there. “Hello Hengist, hello Miss Symmons, did you see your cousin Peter, he has changed!” He started. Hengist was busy eating. Anne shook her head. “No, we haven’t seen him, but did you hear the rumour? He has a girlfriend now.” “No, really? I haven’t seen her.” “What is he looking like now. I want to recognize him when I meet him, especially when I’m eating his food.” Hengist said in between two bites. “He’s tall, clear skin and white bleached hair.” “And he’s laughing a lot?” Anne asked carefully. “Yes, so you have met him!” Frederick exclaimed. “Yes, I’m afraid so.” “You don’t sound very happy about it, what’s wrong?” Frederick asked her. “No, I didn’t exactly like him.” She confessed. “That’s alright. Nobody likes Peter.” Hengist informed her. “Yes.” Anne sighed. “I think I’ve heard that before.”

Phebe entered the kitchen. “Yes, it’s a truth generally acknowledged that you will always find an Alret man in the kitchen or alternatively with food.” She greeted them. “Not crowded enough in here to make it a truth.” Frederick replied with his mouth full. “Did you hear it?” Hengist nodded. “Peter has a girlfriend.” Phebe was disappointed. “And I thought I was the one to tell you this news. Who told you?” “Anne did.” “And how did you know?” She asked. “Hengist did.” “And who told you?” “Aunt Lydia told me.” He replied. Anne choked. “Everything alright dear?” Phebe asked concerned. “No, only I’ve met her as well. I didn’t exactly like her.” “That’s alright. Nobody likes aunt Lydia.” Frederick told her. Anne sighed. It seemed that nobody liked anybody else in this family. And she had always thought her family was bad. “Then she has told you what she looks like as well.” “No.” Phebe smiled triumphantly. “She’s delicate, has green eyes, red hair and is – as aunt Lydia said – petit.” “Patience! Has anybody seen Patience?” Anne exclaimed. Hengist looked around. “No!”

Patience slapped Peter’s face. “You pig!” She added. She slammed the door. “Oh look, it’s Peter’s girlfriend.” Aunt Lydia whispered as Patience passed her. She stopped. She had heard that offence. She turned. “I am not the girlfriend of this idiot.” She said loud enough so that anybody could hear, which had been completely superfluous because aunt Lydia would have told anyone anyway. “Hurray! I say.” Anne’s voice could be heard. “And I’m not the girlfriend of this nice guy!” She added and drew Hengist close to herself. “I told you aunt Lydia was wrong, nobody likes Peter. He will never have a girlfriend except if she is blind, deaf and stupid. He won’t find anyone like that.” The person whose remark this had been was unknown by everybody. Or so it seemed to Patience and Anne.

“Who was that?” Patience asked in a whisper when they were on their way back home. “That was Luther. He always speaks his mind.” “Oh, let me guess, nobody likes him either.” Anne suggested. “No, I’ve never met anyone who didn’t like him – except of Peter and aunt Lydia.” “Phebe, next year we will not go there. Remind me of that, will you!” “Yes, my love, like I do every year.” She sighed. Frederick growled. Phebe kissed him. “You have that every year?” Patience whispered. Hengist nodded. “Just imagine I had to see Grandaunt Caroline every year.” She fell back into her seat. Anne had closed her eyes making a mental remark to not go to any family gatherings again, be it her or somebody else’s family.

Patience knocked on Anne’s door. “Are you awake?” She whispered. “Yes, come in.” Anne looked out of the window. “I was in the bathroom when I detected him.” Patience informed her. “I had just gotten dressed and opened the curtains.” Anne reported. “Do you reckon some of these will be for us?” She added. “I only hope he won’t find what we’ve hidden.” Patience said. Anne nodded.

Easter Sunday is a funny day, especially in the muggle world. You know, grown up muggles run around the garden and house and any place to hide eggs, goodies and little presents. I’m not quite sure what the reason of this hide and seek game is. It looks like fun, though, having tried it myself I can only advice any wizard not to try at home. Besides, wizards and witches would most probably use a quite different technique. They would elaborate the methods of disguise and make it almost impossible to find anything before the end of the day. To increase the fun the eggs are not simple white eggs, but cooked painted ones. In muggle shops you will find them on boxing day – the one after Christmas Eve. I was told that eggs are a symbol of fertility, though I don’t get that point and cannot find out where the colour comes in. Christ was killed on good Friday. Don’t even dare to ask why it is called good Friday. Maybe somebody didn’t like Christ. He came back to life – must have turned into a ghost or something like that – on Easter Sunday, or so I was told. People are quite happy that he did – well Christians are – and Jews, Anne told me.

It’s not fair I have to do this on Easter and Anne could deal with muggle Christmas, she knows more things about religion than I do. I wonder what Hengist will have to do – birthdays?

Anyway, Easter is a holiday, several actually. It’s one more than Christmas: good Friday, Easter Sunday and Easter Monday. Before I forget, there can’t be any essay on muggle Easter without the mention of the Easter bunny. Muggles belief that it is a rabbit which brings the painted eggs and gifts. However, I could not find out what Christ had to do with a rabbit – maybe he was a rabbit according to his Chinese horoscope. Actually, it is pretty much like Christmas: the bunny works the nightshift and hides the eggs. In the morning the muggles – and this year they are joined by Anne and me – go and find the eggs again.

It’s obvious of how little use this is – even for muggles. I don’t know how other muggles spent their Easter Sundays so the next details rely on my very own experiences at the Alret house. Did I mention that I personally hate eggs?!

When all the eggs and sweets and gifts are found the family sets off to have breakfast. Main dish on the table: the just found eggs. However, not only these but also eggs disguised are offered. You can meet scrambled eggs, fried eggs – sunny side up – and even egg cheese; those, of course, are not painted. You get your tea not in a beg but in a little sort of egg and if you are unlucky you will even get eggnog.

Did I mention that I usually am unlucky and that I especially despise eggnog? And just to remind you again: Easter’s just like Christmas! Do you know the song ‘Grandma got run over by a reindeer?

Grandma got run over by an Easter bunny, walking home from the Alrets’ house Easter Eve. You can say there’s no such thing as an Easter bunny but as for me and Hengist: we believe! She has been drinking too much eggnog and we begged her not to go. But she forgot her medication and she staggered out the door into the night. When we found her Easter morning at the scene of the attack she had paw prints on her forehead and imprinted claw marks on her back. Actually I did wait for this song to be sung as the family gathered to have some fun after breakfast but as it turned out we played Mikado and domino until it was time for lunch. It is a fact generally acknowledged that anything has to be done with the vast amount of eggs on Easter Sunday. Primarily they are cooked – well, no, they become ingredients to what is cooked. Muggles provd to be quite creative and so I had eggs in white and black sesame, egg salad and Russian eggs. If you don’t like eggs get it down with another glass of eggnog: cheers!

I’m not sure, did I mention that I detest eggs? I’m not eggophobic but on Easter Sunday I cannot guarantee for anything.

In the afternoon we took a walk and you won’t believe it but the little town Hengist calls his home has a museum just for eggs! We visited – of course, what else would one do on Easter Sunday?! To my mind plenty of things would come, however, a muggle’s mind seems to be preoccupied by the mere thought of eggs – and as I mentioned – in any form, shape and physical state.

After having gone through this eggs-perience, I must admit that I am really glad to be a witch even when that means that I have to write these stupid essays! Happy Easter!

P.S.: Hengist’s parents gave a DVD player to us for Easter – I wonder what kind of game that will be!

“Haven’t you packed your things yet?” Hengist yelled. It was Easter Monday and their departure had been scheduled for that day. Hengist had been waiting for fifteen minutes now. “Do you really have to go?” Adrian sobbed. “Yes, I have to. Who knows we might meet again before soon. If you’re not afraid of some scary muggle with an obsession for pink you are welcome any time!” She assured him. “And your parents come back from Europe tomorrow, you won’t have much time for me then.” She reminded him. He nodded. He produced something out of his pocket. “Will you put this on your bedside locker?” She looked at it. It was a picture of Adrian with a bunch of flowers waving at Anne. “Yes, of course!” She hugged him. “I will miss you.” “Girls!” Hengist could be heard. “Urgh, our master and commander is calling.” Anne hurried downstairs. “Here is something to eat, duckling.” Phebe gave a basket to her son. “You might be hungry after the journey.” “Mum, we’re only apparating.” Hengist complained. “Yes, dear, I know.” She kissed his forehead. “Man!” Frederick punched his son playfully and hugged him manly. “Miss Wood, Miss Symmons, it has been a pleasure!” They shook hands. “And take care of Hengist!” Phebe told them. “And you take care of your friends.” Frederick added. “Bye!” Adrian peeped and waved.

They apparated at their home in Oxford. Lisa was still gone. “You know Hengist, I really like your family, almost as much as I do the Weasleys, however, that would be Peter and Aunt Lydia excluded.” Anne told him as they moved their bags to their rooms. “Yes, they are wonderful!” Patience agreed. Hengist smiled. “I’m glad you like them! They liked you as well. I think, somehow they are glad you are with me and not some stupid dunderhead like Banks.” They laughed. “Girls, what about something to eat, my mum packed some pretty tasty stuff.” He made his way to the kitchen and since it was shortly before lunch Patience and Anne followed him and enjoyed one last day on which they didn’t have to cook.

They had all been happy to have a DVD player now to watch true muggle movies, however, the fact that this was part of a portable computer made them rather sad. The picture provided by the flat screen could only be seen from one spot in the room and three people could not be comfortably crowded there. “It says in the handbook that you can connect it to a TV set. But we need a special sort of wire.” Hengist went to buy it – together with the girls. They needed a video wire but the only thing they could find was a s-video wire. “It looks exactly like the one we need.” Patience remarked. “You haven’t understood muggle technology. If a thing does look like another it does not mean it is the same.” Hengist informed her. “But it says it is for connecting a PC to a TV set or a video recorder.” Anne told him reading the back of the box. “We can always return it if it doesn’t work.” She added. Decidedly she went to the clerk and bought the wire.

Back home Hengist had to face another problem. “In the computer handbook it says I have to consult the TV set handbook to find out how to connect the two and in the TV set handbook it says I have to proceed according to the computer handbook.” Patience frowned. “That doesn’t really help.” Anne shook her head. “What does the Magical Muggle Manual say?” “For questions concerning muggle technology consult the Muggle Magical Manual.” Patience joked. Hengist looked angrily at her. “It says that a wizard or a witch should not waste his or her precious time trying to make muggle technology work the muggle way and instead simply use magic…” “Well, then that’s that.” Anne decided ready to wave her wand. “…except if you’re doing advanced muggle studies.” He added. Patience sighed. “Well, then good luck.” She sat down. “It cannot be possible that it is impossible to connect those two.” Anne decided.

Hengist got up and left. “I only know that I need a break.” He told them. Anne sat down in front of the computer. “Now, how does this work?” She was very curious, but the truth was that she may have known theoretically how a computer worked, but she had never wanted to try the practical part. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Patience asked carefully. Anne made a gesture with her hand indicating that Patience should be quiet. She sighed and left the room. Anne opened every menu and had a look at each program and the different functions. She must have sat there for several hours until in the middle of the night she opened the door to Hengist’s room – without knocking as usual. “Triumph, triumph.” She shouted and with that woke up Hengist and Patience who had fallen asleep in his room. They yawned. “Where’s my laurel wreath?” “What happened?” Hengist asked in between two yawns. “I managed to do it. I put the picture from the monitor to the screen. “Anne, it’s 3 o’clock in the morning, do you really think we care?” Anne was disappointed of this reaction.

“Maybe you don’t realize, but I solved the problem.” She snapped. “You’re tired Anne, go to sleep.” Hengist advised her. “I – the magic hero of muggle technology – tired? Give me the next technical riddle to solve!” She let herself fall onto the bed, her eyes shut and from that moment on she kept quiet. “Crowded.” Hengist stated. He looked over to Patience who had fallen asleep as well. He shrugged and gave a fair share of cover to Anne. He leaned back and continued his sleep as well.

It was only good that Patience was alone in the kitchen that Wednesday afternoon. A huge barn owl clicked with its beak against the window. Patience grinned. “And what does Verres want now?” she asked the owl while she carefully untied the letter from the owl’s leg. The owl nibbled her finger and Patience ruffled her feathers. “You’re sweet,” she said. At that moment Bethesda entered the kitchen through the cat-flap in the backdoor and jumped onto the windowsill. The owl hooted panicky and took off. Patience looked at her cat and grinned: “Bethesda the owl-terror!” She took the cat into her arms and sat down at the kitchen table, where a steaming mug of tea and a book were waiting for her. But right now she wanted to read the letter. Bethesda curled up on her lap and purred under Patience’s caresses. With her left hand, Patience managed to unfold the letter. She saw at once that this was not her brother’s handwriting. She frowned. “Well, Bethesda, who could have written – wait a minute, did the envelop say it was for me?” Frantically, she fetched the envelop. Yes, it was addressed to her. She grinned and took a sip of tea. Then she began to read:

            Dear Patience,

I hope you’re well. I was today thinking of Hogwarts and our time there, and I confess I really miss the school. That is, I miss all the people. Especially you. There it is. I know, you didn’t even go to the ball with me, but… can’t we meet some time soon? I’m working at the Ministry most of the time, got a job there in the Magical Sports Department, and, well, I’ve got Fridays off. So, if you’d send me an owl saying if you want to and naming a place, I’d be very glad. Give my regards to Hengist and Anne!

David Bantam

Patience read the letter again, but it did not change. She was taken by surprise so completely she sat rigid until Anne entered the kitchen half an hour later.

“Has anyone died?” Anne asked immediately, worried by her friend’s strange look. “No, Anne. David Bantam has written to me.” Patience handed the letter to Anne who read it quickly. “That boy’s got a crush on you still? My dear, he was not very happy to go the ball with me, mind you!” Anne laughed as she remembered that night. Patience sighed. “And what shall I do now?” she asked. Anne shrugged. “What do you want to do?” “I don’t know!” Patience exclaimed. “This certainly calls for an emergency meeting tonight,” Anne decided.

Indeed the Magpies met that night in Anne’s room. Anne as usual sat on the rug, while Hengist and Patience shared the bed. “So, what’s wrong, girls?” Hengist asked. He had not yet heard of the Bantam-crisis. One reason was that he simply had not been there, the other was that Hengist himself had had a violent crush on David once. “Read this,” Patience told him and pushed the letter into Hengist’s hand. Anne watched Hengist’s face with concern. Nobody could know if Hengist would be hurt or not. He was not. “You should meet him, Patience,” he advised his friend calmly. Patience frowned. “Do you really think so?” she asked. Hengist grinned. “Yes, sure. Maybe he’s going to tell you that he turned gay after all – and then you rush home, girl, and get me!” They all laughed. So Patience wrote to David telling him she would be glad to meet him in front of Sweet Italy in Oxford, or in a café in Diagon Alley if he preferred that, on Friday afternoon.

Patience had taken great care to look good, even Lisa had had to admit. Although she told herself she was certainly not in love with David, there was nothing wrong in a bit of vanity. She was waiting in front of Sweet Italy when Arsenio Crumlum came out. “Hello, piccola rossa, what are you doing here?” he asked cheerfully. “I’m waiting for an old friend to arrive,” Patience told him. “Oh, a date? Then Arsenio will prepare his best table for you,” he promised. Patience grinned. His best table indeed! More like his only table in the shop. But if Arsenio did so, she could be sure that David would at least not be disappointed by the food.

David arrived ten minutes later than appointed. He looked thoroughly flustered as he Apparated right in front of Patience. “I am so sorry, Patience. Have you been waiting long?” he apologized instantly. Patience laughed. “It’s okay, David. I’m pleased to see you again.” David looked at her with unabashed admiration. “So am I,” he answered. They entered Arsenio’s shop. The table was set for two people, with a tiny tea pot steaming in the middle, a vase filled with roses and a plate laden with the most delicious cakes and cookies and chocolates imaginable. “Did you order all this?” David asked stunned. Patience shook her head. “Arsenio, the owner, is a good friend of ours,” she explained.

Right on cue, Arsenio entered. “Ah, welcome, welcome. You must be Patience’s friend. I am Arsenio Crumlum, master of the art of sweet-making,” he said. David smiled. “I’m David Bantam, currently training to become a regular member of the Department for Magical Sports at the Ministry in London.” Arsenio looked impressed. “That calls for a very special treat,” he said and clapped his hands twice. To Patience’s delight, there was suddenly a little marzipan cake with a nicely decorated icing Quidditch field in the middle of the table. “If you need anything else, call, yes?” Arsenio said and vanished again in the kitchen.

“That’s so great,” David marvelled. Patience nodded. “Arsenio is really a master of his art.” “No. I actually meant, well, he is a master, but… It’s so great to sit here with you.” Patience laughed. “Oh, come off it, that’s only flattery.” “No, it’s not. Tell me, how have you spent this last year?” David leant back, looking at Patience expectantly.

“I was studying here, working for university and Emerson alike,” Patience reported truthfully. David grinned. “I heard you had a hearing with Minister Bagnold,” he said. Patience blushed fiercely. “Yes, but it’s all over now,” she said and took a sip of tea to mask her uneasiness. “Oh, I certainly didn’t want to embarrass you,” David hurried to say. “It was only so typically Magpie-like.” “What have you done?” Patience changed topics quickly. David smiled. “I’m working for Ludo Bagman,” he said. Patience’s eyes grew wide in excitement. “The Ludo Bagman?” she asked.

“The Ludo Bagman, the former Wimbourne Wasps star, yes,” David nodded. “Wow! What is he like? What is it like to work at the Ministry?” Patience asked. David laughed. “Sounds as if my dull life is more interesting than yours,” he joked. “Different,” Patience corrected him but smiled as well. “I’ve met Ludo only one or two times so far,” David reported. “He was alright, a bit weird, and he’s not often in his office, but well – he’s got us.” “Really? What does he do if he’s not in his office?” Patience wanted to know. “I don’t know,” David confessed. “What do you have to do?” Patience asked. “Well, I am actually sent for coffee and sandwiches more often than not, but I also run other errands, and lately I’m even entrusted with easy reports, like about the weight of the Bludgers and so on.” David took a cookie with green icing. Patience frowned. This did not sound at all like what she had imagined working at the Ministry would be like. It was not meeting the famous Quidditch stars and talking with them about rules and regulations. It was not even inspecting the pitches. It was dull paperwork!

“And what do you do in Muggle Studies?” David enquired. Patience shrugged. “Well, we share a house with a muggle, and we try not to do too much magic.” “Sounds as if it was quite easy,” David commented. “You try not to do magic for one day,” Patience challenged David who laughed. “No, thanks, I wouldn’t survive at the Ministry.”

The hours passed with talking, and soon it was rather late. Arsenio watched the two quietly from his counter but did not interfere. He felt deeply sorry for the young man. He knew Patience by now well enough to see that she thought him a friend, but not a bit more. Arsenio sighed.

Patience turned around to him. “Oh, Arsenio, I’m so sorry, we kept you so long!” she exclaimed shocked and jumped up. David rose as well, looking sad to have to leave. “It’s okay, my dear Patience,” Arsenio smiled. David offered to pay, but Arsenio looked offended: “That was my pleasure, young man,” he said. Patience scowled. “Arsenio, you’re supposed to earn your living with this shop,” she muttered. Arsenio only grinned and shrugged. “Have a nice evening, you two,” he said.

Patience and David walked out into the street. “Will we repeat this?” David asked softly. Patience smiled. “Why not?” she lightly answered. “Very good,” David murmured and leaned forward. Patience stepped back in alarm. “What are you doing?” she asked. “I was about to kiss you,” David said surprised. “Me? Oh, David,” Patience said and sighed. “David, I’m sorry if I made you hope for more than friendship,” she added carefully. David raised his eyebrows. “Oh, it does not matter,” he said seriously. “I am patient. I can wait.” He smiled at Patience. “Until the next time!” he waved and Disapparated.

Patience walked through the sunset back home, lost in thoughts. When she reached 3 Magpie Lane only Hengist was at home. “You were long,” he said. “Yes. David’s still waiting for me to change my mind,” Patience reported. Hengist made room for her on the sofa and Patience sat down, nestling into his arm. “And you don’t think it likely?” Hengist enquired. “No. Isn’t that a real pity?” Patience asked. Hengist did not reply, and so they sat in silence.

“There’s nothing like touching such excellent parchment,” Patience whispered, stroking the fine, creamy white document in front of her lovingly. “Use your gloves, please,” said a kind old librarian who had come up behind the magpies and Roland Banks. “This is very old.” “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to damage it,” Patience hastily excused herself. The librarian smiled. “Of course not, dear. It is a rare thing to touch parchment, and I understand your curiosity well. But now you did touch it, put on those gloves.” Patience nodded. Hengist’s foot was hovering over hers just in case she should say that she was used to writing on parchment.

“Very well,” Roland said bored. “This doesn’t look like language.” “Neither does your handwriting, Banks,” Anne told him coolly. “The professor set us the task to read and transcribe this, and so we do so.” Roland muttered something under his breath but squinted at the minuscule black spiky letters on the parchment. “Oh,” Patience suddenly said. “Those are Roman numbers in front of every line!” “And question marks at each line’s end,” Anne added. She looked at her fellow students. “I think we have a medieval questionnaire.”

“What do you think they used this for?” Hengist wondered. “My dad says they used questionnaires to help guards or inquisitors to remember what they were supposed to ask for,” Patience replied. “Guards?” Anne asked surprised. Patience nodded. “Yes, for guards had to question strangers, especially when there was some danger from outside.” “Quite good – if the guards could read,” Hengist grinned. “Muggle guards weren’t able to read?” Roland enquired haughtily. “Some were, some weren’t. it’s like some wizards are able to transfigure mice into teacups and some aren’t,” Anne retorted.

Roland bit his lip in cold fury and bent down over the parchment. “This makes no sense. Absolute… a… general… I… a…” He looked up. Whoever wrote this, they couldn’t write proper English sentences.” “Or they used and easyquote quill and the interviewee stammered,” Patience suggested. “Shush, you three, imagine someone hears us,” Hengist cautioned the others. “You’re not a prefect here, Miss Alret, you’ve no right to boss me around,” Roland hissed.

“No, but I have, and you haven’t progressed very far,” the dry voice of their professor said. “Get going. The title is in Latin, by the way.” He walked away again. “Latin. Now that makes sense. Let me see…” Anne had a closer look at the text, then beamed. “Absoluta generalia circa Confessionem veneficarum.” “Come again?” Hengist asked. “It’s a questionnaire for inquisitors dealing with crimes of magic,” Anne explained. “What? Oxford keeps magical document sin their archives?” Patience asked excitedly.

But Hengist suddenly looked shocked. “No. No, this is a thoroughly non-magical text,” he said slowly. “Do you remember Emerson telling us about witch hunts? That’s one of the lists to help burn innocent people.” Anne and Patience were shocked as well. Only Roland shrugged. “If Muggles are that stupid, it’s none of our business.” “We’ve got to transcribe it,” Patience said determinedly. “Yes,” Anne agreed, “and while we do that, we can think of our answers.” Roland looked doubtful but had no chance than to follow the Magpies’ lead.

Hengist transcribed the first question: “Since when have you been involved in the highly damned crime of witchcraft?” “Since we were born, of course,” Anne replied, causing the others to grin. “Yes, but I think you’d have landed yourself on the stake for that,” Hengist said and read on: “In what form did the devil appear to you at the beginning, and did he come in the morning, at noon, in the evening or at night?” He looked around. “One of you is writing it down, right?” Patience nodded. “I’ve got it all. What has a devil to do with magic, by the way?”

Hengist did not bother to answer but read the third question: “If she could write and read, and if she had made a pact with the devil, and with whom. And if he had lead her hand and which.” “Merlin’s beard!” Anne said exasperatedly. “Of course I can read and write, and I’m not under an Imperius Curse, thank you very much.” “Again this devil, how odd,” Patience commented. Hengist nodded vaguely. “What did she write ad what colour was the ink, where she got the ink and whose handwriting it was.”

“Those Muggles think witches can’t write,” Roland concluded. “Right you are, Banks. Perhaps they think of a special ink – or blood, or something,” Hengist thought aloud. Anne shook her head silently, then read out the next question: “If the devil had baptised her differently and who was there when she called her incubus and what her new name was.” “What’s an incubus?” Roland asked curiously. Patience grimaced. “A male demon having sex with a woman,” she said. “How do you know, Woodlouse?” Roland enquired. “My dad told me,” Patience replied simply. “Go on, Anne.” Anne did as she was asked: “If he hadn’t touched her on the forehead as if to scratch out something.” “Urgh,” Patience shuddered.

“If she had used powders and lotions to kill people and cattle, when this happened, and why she did it.” Anne grinned. “That’s a question for the son of a bat.” “No, he’d never use potions for killing,” Patience defended their former potions master automatically. Anne and Hengist exchanged a glance but said nothing. Instead Anne read out the next question: “What kind of disease she sent to people and cattle, where, how long, why, and who helped.” “Dragon pox, the meadows, three weeks, just for fun, my friends,” Hengist listed and they giggled.

Patience looked at the next question. “Now it’s getting weird.” “Why?” Hengist enquired. “They want to know how often the witch flew out,” Patience answered. “Every time she went for a holiday or wanted to play Quidditch,” Anne said promptly. “On who, and through what did she get out?” Hengist read out. “On who? A broom’s a thing, or isn’t it?” Patience asked. “I think they mean the devil or demon,” Hengist ventured. “Ah. Alright. But the next question is at what times she flew and if she sat in front or at the rear. What’s that supposed to mean?” Patience looked at her friends. “No idea, really. But the next one’s good: which word she said before flying,” Anne said, smiling. “Sly guys, those inquisitors,” Hengist said amused.

Roland had read on and now rattled down the questions concerning religion, ceremonies and a meeting with a feast and music. “Sounds fun,” Anne said. “Well, they also want to know which pranks the witch played to people, and often she met with her incubus. Perverts,” Patience scoffed. “And their fantasy’s so crude! Who on earth would use human remains, let alone the dead bodies of little children to make potions – or eat them?” Anne asked, looking thoroughly disgusted. Patience swallowed. “Erm, actually, Anne, this isn’t as far-fetched as it sounds,” she said. Not only Anne stared at her incredulously. “Well, there are certain very dark recipes which sue human bones, or blood, or… or bodies. It’s absolutely evil, of course, but they exist,” Patience explained. To everybody’s surprise, Roland nodded. “Yes, I read about them once, too.”

“Hm,” Anne mumbled. “Let’s hope nobody ever uses them.” “Or does the weather,” Hengist added, and when he saw the incomprehension on the others’ faces, he pointed at the parchment. “Here, the inquisitors ask about bad weather, and of course about the adoration of the devil, and sex with the incubus, and if the witch caused married couples to split up.” “What utter rubbish,” Anne said scornfully. “And it killed so many people who didn’t have a drop of magic in them,” Patience said sadly.

“Now look at this,” Hengist murmured, cleared his throat and read out: “If the devil had marked her with his claw or bite and where, and to be tested with a needle.” Silence followed. “That’s where You-Know-Who got his idea from,” Anne finally voiced what they all thought. “Never, the Dark Lord wouldn’t sue dirty Muggle ideas,” Roland hissed. “Well, the Protean Charm is obviously not a Muggle invention. But the sign is,” Patience amended. Roland frowned. “Never,” he repeated, gathered his things quickly and left.

“Do you reckon he’s got a Dark Mark?” Hengist asked his friends. “No, how should he? I mean, no You-Know-Who, no Dark Mark,” Patience said lightly. “I just hope you’re right,” Anne said grimly. She gave the inquisitors’ questionnaire a dark look. “That’s so evil.” “And so far from the truth. Horrible,” Patience whispered. Hengist sighed. “You mustn’t change history, girls – and you can’t, for that matter. The only thing is…” “… we must exert tolerance?” Anne ended his sentence, slightly doubtful. “Yes, and not do anybody harm. Then, perhaps, hiding won’t be necessary,” Hengist said hopefully. “That’s a nice idea. Come, let’s leave, too, we’re finished,” Patience said warmly.

Behind the next shelf, Emerson Dicket smiled to himself. Sometimes he loved to have a hand in his students’ Muggle studies. Sometimes even Muggle texts could be useful to educate young witches and wizards.

We survived!

Lisa came down the stairs, carrying a huge suitcase. “You know, it’s amazing just how much stuff you can gather during the year,” she joked and pushed back a stray hair. “Did you pack, or are you staying here?” she enquired. Hengist grinned. “My mum would skin me alive if I didn’t come home for the holidays, or at least part of them.” “Really? My parents are away, on holiday. They wanted to go to Jamaica. Or was it Barbados? I can’t really remember,” Lisa said and sighed. “But the garden and my mum’s little pug need looking after, and so they asked me to come home.”

“My parents and sister are on holiday, too – in the USA, somewhere,” Anne reported cheerfully. “But I’m glad, I don’t need to see them,” she added, and Lisa laughed. “Yes, perfectly true. It gets more difficult every time I come home again.” “Yes, living far from them doesn’t do any good for the relation,” Anne giggled. Patience and Hengist exchanged a glance. “I’m glad to see my parents and brother again,” Patience said quietly. Hengist shrugged. “I’m glad to go home, too. Tell me, will you play…” Patience laughed when Hengist blushed.  “Damn,” he muttered. “You, you of all people almost let it slip,” Patience whispered gleefully.

“Well, my dears, I’ve got to go now. I’ve got to catch the train. See you next year. It’s been great, hasn’t it?” Lisa asked while she embraced the Magpies affectionately. “On the whole, it has,” Anne agreed to everybody’s surprise. Lisa smiled. “Then until we meet again – farewell!” she waved and left.

“Since when have you joined the Lisa-fan-club?” Hengist wanted to know. “Never. I’m just glad to see her back,” Anne replied. “What?” Patience asked. “Her backside, Patience,” Anne elaborated, and Patience shook her head. “She’s not that impossible – just the only Muggle we’ve ever been so close to. Perhaps all Muggles are so weird,” she mused. Hengist grimaced. “You’ve been with my family,” he reminded her. “Yes, sure, but you are a wizard, your family is used to magic folk,” Patience reasoned. Hengist gave up.

“Okay, girls, how will you go home?” he asked. “Emerson didn’t say we weren’t allowed to do magic when Lisa has gone, did he?” Anne retorted. “No,” Hengist replied, looking wary. “Very good. I am going to Apparate.” Anne looked very pleased with herself. Patience frowned. “I thought your father had put security lines around your house and you couldn’t Apparate there,” she said. “Yes, only they never work with me, I have no idea why,” Anne shrugged.

“And you?” Hengist asked Patience, fearing the worst. “I asked Arsenio to give me a lift, and he said he had some kind of nephew of his going to London, from where I could use the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron. Sounds a treat,” Patience replied. Hengist groaned. “Okay, girls, and now let me tell you what we are here for: We are here to learn the Muggle way of life. And that includes travelling home. So there is no floo powder for you, there is no Apparating, there is no broom, no flying carpet, no magic at all.”

“Flying carpets are banned anyway,” Patience muttered, and Anne grinned broadly. “And how do you get home, Mr Hengist Know-it-all Alret?” she asked. Hengist smiled sweetly. “You, my dear Anne, own a car which you can use to get home. Here is a map, and you can read road signs for sure. You, my dear Patience, can easily travel by train. And me, I’m going to be fetched by my dad in approximately fifteen minutes. Unlike you, I didn’t rely on Emerson’s forgetfulness, I arranged for getting home.”

The girls stared at Hengist with wide eyes. “Do you mean to say we are not allowed to go home by magic?” Anne croaked. “Exactly,” Hengist confirmed her worst fears. “But – but – who are you to tell us what to do?” Patience asked devastated. “I’m the one who received a letter from Emerson this morning, telling me he had forgotten to tell you – us, to be precise – that we were on no account to use magic, and that would be the least task for the year, and we’d get the results by owl post during the holidays.” “The results?” Patience repeated. “We are studying two things at the same time, did you forget? Emerson is of course going to give us grades,” Hengist said gently. Anne sat down on her suitcase and buried her face in her hands. “Why, oh why did I forget that?”

Hengist stared at her, then at Patience’s pale, shocked expression. “You two really forgot that this was not something to play at?” he asked. He received no answer. “Girls,” Hengist sighed. “Girls, sometimes you really take the biscuit. Why did you write the essays Emerson set you when you did not think they mattered?” “I thought Emerson was just curious,” Patience whispered. “You…” Hengist was speechless. “I never really thought Emerson thought we really did something for Muggle Studies,” Anne added. “But what we’re doing is an official, Ministry-approved class to create specialists in Muggle-wizard liaisons!” Hengist exclaimed.

“Oh my god,” Patience sighed. “I guess we failed this first year.” Anne sighed, too. “But at least there’s one positive thing,” she said. Hengist frowned. “Only one?” “Well, only one that really matters,” Anne amended. “And that would be what?” Patience asked. “Don’t you know?” Anne retorted. “No, we don’t, get it out, Anne,” Hengist urged, looking at his watch. His dad would be there in a few minutes. “We survived,” Anne said simply, and the others nodded. “Yes. We survived, in totally alien territory. Wow,” Patience said awestruck. “You are mad, you two. Totally mad,” Hengist judged.

The doorbell rang, and Hengist went to open. “Hello, hello, and how are you, son?” Frederick Alret asked cheerfully. “I’m fine, dad. Thanks for coming to fetch me.” Frederick smiled at the girls. “You and your friends. I was called yesterday by your Professor Dicket who asked me to take the girls to London, where they could then go on by, um, magic,” Frederick revealed. Patience and Anne exchanged a glance. “Emerson must have a heart,” Patience said. Anne looked doubtful. “Or perhaps our grades are so abysmal he doesn’t trust us to go on alone.” Hengist smiled. “No, surely not. You really did well – for two stubborn witches.”

-THE END-

Disclaimer: All names, characters and places are property of J.K. Rowling and Warner bros., except of those not found in the "Harry Potter" books and movies which belong to Ulrike Friedrich and Kirsten Seelbach. No financial and/or commercial gain is intended.