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Pet- and Other Muggles

The Malignant Magpies at Oxford: Advanced Muggle Studies Year Two

List of Contents

Earning Some Money
New Students at Oxford
A Matter of Grades
Banks at His Best
A Divine Body
Four Days Abroad
Poles
An Accident
Peter Pays
Strange Characters
Hogmanay
Submarine in Trouble
The Repeta-Charm
The Apprentice - as not written by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Challenges
The Hot Water Bottle Mystery
At the Gaya
Sweets and Italian Operas
Diagon Alley
A Lesson on Men
Oh oh oh It's Magic
Sweets
The Hunt for the Blood Orchid
The Boggart in the Cupboard
On Horseback
To Wong Foo
Flordelis and Violanta
John Balliol's Gentlemen's Club
Shall We Dance?
For Spoonerism's Sake
Another Meeting
Double O - Double Woe
Accusations
A Good Party
Travelling the Muggle Way

During the holidays, the Magpies and Lisa were visiting their respective homes. Anne did it grudgingly, Hengist with amusement, and Lisa obviously only to leave home again for a lengthy stay in the Caribbean. Patience considered it a good thing to be home again, even though it meant she had to fight with her brother Oliver day after day. But this time, Rupert Wood had bad news for his daughter.

He called her into his study. “Helena, we might not be able to send you back to Oxford. Money’s a bit tight,” he said without wavering long. Patience stared at her father. “What do you mean, money’s tight? We’ve never been rich, have we?” “No, definitely not, although Grandpa did have some money. But I didn’t get so many projects lately, and what with Oliver’s equipment for Hogwarts… I mean, you’re already a fully trained witch, Helena dear,” Rupert said, took off his glasses and wiped his eyes wearily. Patience felt a surge of pity for her father rise inside her. “Daddy, don’t worry,” she said impulsively and hugged Rupert. “I’m going to find a job and I will earn myself the next year at Oxford. It’s my last, and I want to get my diploma. Just you see!” She beamed at Rupert with absolute confidence.

Rupert smiled at her. “I knew you’d find yourself a way to get out of it. Perhaps you want to contact Professor Dicket?” Patience considered that idea. “No,” she said slowly. “No, I think I know where to ask.” “Are you sure? Professor Dicket might be of help to you,” Rupert said. “If my plan doesn’t work, I’ll ask Emerson, daddy. But let me try first, okay?” Patience said and her eyes glittered. “Patience, tell me what you are going to do,” Rupert said warily. Patience’s eyes widened innocently. “Go and ask for a job. I’ll be back soon, promised.” With an excited laugh, Patience turned around on the spot and disapparated. Rupert sighed. Sometimes he wished Patience would grow up.

Patience apparated in Diagon Alley as she had intended to. She straightened her robes, checked her hair in a shop window and marched towards the turn of Diagon Alley into Knockturn Alley with a confidence that got smaller with every step. What if her plan failed completely? What if she had thought about the wrong place? But there was no turning back now, she would regret it all her life if she chickened out now. So Patience took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders and opened the door. A small bell began to tingle and then a voice called: “Coming!”

Patience looked around, and for the first time in her life she found no comfort in the scents and contents of the baskets and shelves around her. There he was, Vicesimus Knox, owner of the best apothecary in London, nay, in Great Britain. He did not look particularly intimidating, and he wasn’t, as Patience knew out of experience. After all, she’d worked there for a little while. “Well, that’s a nice surprise. Virginia, Miss Wood is here!” Vicesimus called happily and hurried around the counter to shake Patience’s hand. “How do you do, Mr Knox,” Patience said politely. “Well, Virginia, where are you, sweeting?” Virginia Knox, a Muggle, came out of a door behind the counter, her face lit up by a bright smile. “Hello, Miss Wood, dear, come on, come on, don’t be shy.”

“How do you do Mrs Knox,” Patience greeted the homely woman. Virginia laughed. “Now, dear, I can see what a blind man in the dark would see – you came with a purpose.” “Of course she came with a purpose, Virginia. What do you need, my dear Miss Wood? I am sure you will be the greatest potioneer of our age – well, short of Severus Snape, perhaps.” The name made Patience wince slightly, but she gathered all her courage and said: “I am looking for a holiday job, Mr Knox.” “With us?” Knox retorted slightly surprised. “Vicesimus, of course with us, and of course you are to come here.” Virginia nodded at Patience and extended both her hands. “Welcome, Miss Wood – no, we’ll call you Patience from now on.”

Vicesimus cleared his throat. “That’s all very good, Virginia, and I heartily agree, Patience, you shall have your job here and earn yourself some nice and good money for your studies. But there is one thing you need to do before you start here.” “Oh, I’ll do anything you ask of me, Mr Knox, I’m so glad you want me to work here,” Patience said gratefully. Knox laughed. “I won’t ask anything illegal from you, my dear, in fact I have to ask you to take an oath. Apothecaries and those working in an apothecary have to take it, you see, to ensure that everything is legal.” “An oath? But of course, I will take it,” Patience said enthusiastically.

“Of course, my dear. Virginia, will you fetch the book, please?” Virginia nodded and hurried away. “You know where to put your cloak, Patience. And you see that we changed nothing – everything is at the same place as of old. You will soon be in your job again, I think. And between us two, we’ll revolutionise the world of potion-making!” Vicesimus said and squeezed Patience’s hand. She laughed. “Yes, we will, Mr Knox.”

Virginia returned carrying a small velvet-bound volume with golden embroidered letters on it reading “Apothecaree’s Oath As Ye Take It”. Vicesimus took the book and eyed it reverently. “This, Patience, is the law-book of our profession. When you speak the oath, you will swear to it that you and the healers will not work together in other things than the mixing of certain drugs the healers personally asked for, that we are subjected to regular visits by Ministry officials, that you work only according to recipes after the books of antidotes, and that our prices have to agree with the taxes set by the Ministry in association with St Mungo’s.” Vicesimus looked at Patience. “Did you understand?” “Yes, sir,” Patience said obediently. “The part about working exactly according to recipe – you must do that, girl,” Vicesimus warned. Patience blushed a little but nodded. “I sea to it, sir. If I do experiment, then it will be out of the reach of customers.” “Good. Then repeat my words,” Knox said satisfied and went on, solemnly and slowly: “I swear that I shall keep my promise and work for the most powerful guild of apothecaries, as established under the reign of St Edward the Confessor and confirmed by Thomas the wizard of Scotland, he who worked with the Emperor Frederick II. I swear that the work of my hands will be meant to heal and soothe and that I will never hurt or cause pain deliberately.” Patience repeated the oath word by word, then Vicesimus was satisfied. He looked at his wife. “A cup of tea would be nice, Virginia.” “It is already prepared upstairs. Close the shop and come on, my dear,” Virginia replied and led the way to the cosy upstairs living room.

Thus began Patience’s sojourn at Knox’s Apothecary. She loved working there, learning in between more about potions than in seven years at Hogwarts. Usually she helped Virginia preparing the ready-made potions and tinctures and elixirs or chopping herbs or even drying them. But sometimes Vicesimus called her to help in the shop when a lot of customers were there. However, one day, there was something extraordinary. A Healer from St Mungo’s Hospital came to fetch a certain elixir and insisted on watching it being made. Vicesimus grunted and tried to evade it, but when the healer said: “Sir, you know the oath!”, he knew he was defeated.

“Patience, this is Healer Gore. He wants a certain elixir prepared, and he alone has the recipe and wants to overlook the preparation. I want you to mix it,” Knox ordered. Before Healer Gore could protest, Vicesimus went back into the shop, leaving Patience and the healer in the small potions kitchen. “Are you really sworn to the guild, girl?” he asked doubtfully. “I am sir, I am a fully trained witch, and my N.E.W.T. in potions was an E,” Patience said calmly. Healer Gore nodded. “Alright, then. This is what I need.” He handed her a slip of parchment on which words were scribbled in an untidy scrawl.

Patience deciphered the ingredients after a moment and began to assemble them. Healer Gore watched her every step with suspicious eyes. “Are you sure you know what you are doing?” he finally voiced his fears. Patience nodded silently, measuring nutmeg powder carefully. A little too much, and the potion would not only taste awful, but also kill the patient if administered in a higher dose than recommended. “Good. This is a very special mixture, you see. I desperately need it because it’s a desperate case.” Healer Gore looked very smug and self-important as he spoke and unconsciously straightened his robes. Patience allowed herself a tight little smile. “I see. May I ask what kind of ailment you intend to heal with an elixir made of infusion of verbena and a spice mixture mainly made of nutmeg?” “That is none of your business,” Gore said arrogantly and turned his back on Patience.

She relaxed slightly, then read the recipe again. Personally, she thought this elixir would effect nothing at all. If the nutmeg was intended to kill, the poison was extremely unlikely to be drunk in full – verbena and nutmeg mixed tasted simply disgusting. And if the other spices were to strengthen the awful taste – why mix it at all? “Healer Gore, do you really want me to add white arsenic?” Patience asked when she came to the very last line. “Yes, of course, insolent girl,” Gore snarled and Patience was forcefully reminded of her potions lessons. She raised her eyebrows. “It’s going to be poisonous. Shall I prepare the antidote as well, just in case your patient dies of the treatment?”

Gore drew in his breath with a hiss. “You are not to question my matters, you are to prepare what I asked you for.” “Yes, sir,” Patience said and shrugged. What was it to her if the Healer was too stupid to recognize a poison? Of course… Patience looked over her shoulder, but Gore was staring out of the tiny window as if in a daze. Patience decided to use perfectly harmless powdered sugar instead of white arsenic. The patient might be sick, but would certainly not die. She grinned. Vicesimus Knox would skin her alive if he ever got to know about that, but Patience could not and would not help killing a perfectly innocent person.

“Healer Gore? Here’s your elixir,” she said and handed Gore the jar with the fluid. Gore sniffed at it and nodded, apparently satisfied. “Very well. If it works well, I might employ you further.” “I heard you had an excellent apothecary at the hospital itself – aren’t the people there skilled enough to prepare your recipes?” Patience asked innocently. Gore smiled coldly. “Perhaps they are, but some things are too… experimental, shall we say?” At that moment Patience was absolutely convinced Healer Gore was not trying to help the person he was treating. Yet she nodded. “I see. You are welcome to employ our services further, sir,” she said automatically. Gore nodded and left to pay at the counter.

When Vicesimus came into the back room, Patience stared at him white-faced. “He’s going to kill someone,” she said hollowly. Knox smiled. “Yes, that’s what we all believe about the Healers, don’t we?” he said sympathetically. “No, no, Mr Knox, look at the recipe!” Patience said and thrust her copy of the recipe into Knox’s hands. “How did you come by that?” Knox asked surprised. “Easily, I copied it behind Gore’s back, sir,” Patience confessed. Knox chuckled.

His amusement died away when he read the recipe. “Good lord, did you keep to the recipe?” he asked shocked. Patience swallowed. “Um…” “Patience?” Knox asked. “No, I used powdered sugar instead of white arsenic,” Patience said and sighed. “I am so sorry for breaking the oath.” “No, my dear, don’t be sorry, be glad. You were right to alter the recipe. Now, we need to inform the head of Gore’s ward. Yes. I shall do that, and then everything will be fine, don’t you worry.” Knox took his precious velvet robes and put them on. “I’ll leave the shop to you. I’ll be back soon. If you need help, do not hesitate to call Virginia.” He nodded to Patience and left the shop.

Patience took up station behind the counter and waited for customers. Her thoughts strayed to the hospital. What if Knox came too late? What if Gore had found out and supplied the arsenic by himself? Patience found herself drumming on the counter impatiently. The tinkling of the bell over the door made her start, but it was only two customers. “Good day, how can I help you?” she asked. “Patience? Hello, hello, what a surprise,” one of the two men said and laughed. “Oh. Hello. How can I help you?” Patience asked, too distracted to do more than to repeat the automatic phrases. “You don’t seem very concentrated today, Woodlouse. Hello, you behind the counter!” the second one said and grinned. “Oh, don’t use that name, Cullen,” Patience sighed. “You can help us, Patience. Are you working here?” Mike Flatley, for it had to be him, asked curiously. “Only in the holidays,” Patience said truthfully. “Ah. Well, we need some incense.” “I thought you worked at the Daily Prophet,” Patience said suspiciously. Brian nodded. “So we do. But there’s someone we want to surprise, don’t we, Mike?” “Sure, Brian. And if you’ve got incense with added aromas, give us that,” Mike ordered. He sauntered to the corner where spiders’ legs, rats’ eyes and toads (whole and in parts) were waiting to be bought.

“This is disgusting,” he said. Patience shrugged. “If it heals you, you’ll think differently.” “Quite so. Anyway, what do you think about lavender incense?” Brian asked. Patience shrugged again. “I’m not sure. I mean, some people get a headache from incense, and others get intoxicated – or worse, inebriated,” she explained. “We know that, so… What aroma enhances the effects best?” Mike wanted to know. “Sandalwood,” Patience said at once. “Can you tell me what you need it for?” “A colleague of ours returns from the holidays, and she deems herself the queen of journalists and so we thought incense for the queen was the nicest gift.” Brian grinned evilly as he said this. Patience giggled. “Okay. Then I guess this lump will provide you with enough incense for this time and the next as well. Perhaps for her birthday?” “Ah, I knew you’d understand. Thanks a lot, and let us hear from you occasionally,” Mike said when he paid. “Sure,” Patience said, but knew that she would do no such thing.

Half an hour and three customers later, Knox returned, rubbing his hands. “Patience, you and me between us saved a poor bloke, lost Gore his job and got the license to deliver antidotes on request!” Patience laughed. “You’re joking.” “No, no, I’m not. Turns out Gore wanted to poison the wizard who bought the house next to his great-aunt’s, and he wanted to increase the house but couldn’t because of the next-door neighbour’s relenting to move. Well, and so he thought of getting away with murder. Pity he met you. Well done indeed.” Knox turned the sign at the door to show ‘closed’. “Let us have a bit of a celebration, Patience. Come on, we have to tell Virginia all about our little adventure.”

This was the only strange event during the holidays, but Patience enjoyed her stay at the apothecary tremendously. At the end of the holidays, she had earned enough money to pay for the next term at least, and a promise by Knox to take her on any time. Patience had for the first time a new idea about what she wanted to do after her studies. Perhaps she should not apply at the Ministry of Magic. Perhaps she should ask to be trained properly as an apothecary.

New Students at Oxford

Oxford greeted the Magpies back at their house in 3, Magpie Lane with splendid sunshine. Anne dumped her suitcase in the middle of her room and looked around. It was as always good to be home again, she thought. Patience and Bethesda had also re-conquered their room, but with different feelings. Patience missed her family, especially – although she would never have admitted it – Oliver, who was now in his fourth year at Hogwarts and still Quidditch team captain of Gryffindor. Hengist, who had faithfully fetched his friends in the car he had bought with money inherited from his grandmother Ellen Riddle, called from below: “Lisa’s arrived, girls, come down!” It was a call for help. Ever since their very first meeting Lisa had been longing to get Hengist into her arms – and Hengist had desperately been trying to avoid this. Patience and Anne descended downstairs and found themselves facing their housemate Lisa Snyder, wearing a short turquoise mini-skirt and a pink top, plus pink plastic sunglasses. “Lisa,” Patience weakly said, “what a pleasure.” “Gorgeous to see you, Patty, had a nice holiday? Oh, and Annie, just splendid to see you!” Lisa hugged them both. Anne looked revolted but murmured something polite nevertheless. Lisa turned to Hengist, took off her glasses and gave the boy a long, deep look. ”Fetch my suitcases, will you? There’s a dear.” Hengist grinned, saluted mockingly and fetched the suitcases. “brought your whole wardrobe?” he asked in passing. Lisa shrugged. “There’ll be loads of new students coming. I need to be prepared.” She cast a judging eye over Anne’s jeans and T-shirt and Patience’s light summer dress. “You should really work on your style,” she announced her verdict and disappeared upstairs. “She’ll be delighted to meet a new housemate,” Anne muttered. Patience shook her head warningly. “No more magic, or Emerson will go haywire.” “Come on, Patience, we all know Emerson will go haywire anyway!”

After unpacking, the Magpies and Lisa set out to the college to find out which courses they would do this term. Lisa had been right: loads of new students, all looking more or less lost, flooded the buildings and the paths along the sacred lawns which were not to be walked on. They said goodbye for the present and the Magpies went to sign up for their classes. Emerson had given them a list, complete with literature, which had reminded them forcefully of the famous Hogwarts booklists. That way, Emerson was sure his charges were not doing anything that was no use to them. Unfortunately this never worked with Roland Banks, ‘former Slytherin idiot and now Christ Church idiot’, as Hengist put it. “Hey, Banks!” Hengist now hailed the blond boy. Anne groaned. Banks turned and his face fell. “I thought they had called you off – didn’t you already cause enough damage?” he sneered. “Oh, learned new skills of communication by buddy Vargas?” Hengist retorted unimpressed. “How’s life with the muggle chick?” Banks asked, craning his neck for a glimpse at Lisa. Patience’s eyes widened a fraction. “You like Lisa? Shall we get you a date?” she asked bluntly. Anne trod on her foot and whispered: “That’s too bad even for Lisa!” Her caution was unnecessary however. Banks looked at Patience with haughty disdain: “I’m not yet that desperate, Woodlouse, to need your help with women!” With that he left. “No, but once he’s found out that lying and being a slimy git is not sufficient he’ll come crawling back on his knees,” Anne predicted amused. “Let’s eavesdrop on the newbies,” she then suggested. They found a stone bench near the line waiting to sign up for language classes. People crowded there, looking anxious if new and almost superhumanly calm if old students. The new ones were talking in hushed voices. Two girls were talking about the food at Christ Church. Patience and Anne exchanged a grin. Once, and only once, they had tried it – then they had quickly resigned to cooking for themselves. “I’m living here, at Oxford, you know, so my dad cooks anyway,” a blond tiny girl told her taller, darker new friend. “But he cooks terribly, and so I’d prefer eating here.” “You’re right. I’d rather eat here, too, if me Dad cooked,” the other said in a familiar Irish accent. Others were talking about their fellow first-years. Hengist nearly burst into laughter when a boy complained loudly about a professor who had apparently cross-examined him before taking him into an already over-crowded class: “And he said I had hardly any basis for his class, so I’d better wait! Wait! These nutters offer the class only once a year, that means I’d waste a whole year!” The one next to him tutted sympathetically. “But,” he ventured to say, “he’s right. You never had any Higher Maths at school – gosh, Seb, you dropped maths in the ninth!” Hengist turned to Anne. “That would be as if you’d do Advanced Divination!” They all laughed. Then Patience said, “Hush!” They leaned forward, catching their breaths. The two girls who had been chatting about food had returned and obviously had already been at one lecture. There were usually welcome-lectures for the first years. “Did you see the beautiful blonde behind us?” the darker one asked her fair friend. “Well, yes, if you mean the one next to the red-haired.” “That’s the one. Did you see, she was already invited for coffee twice!” “No!” the other exclaimed shocked. “I wonder if she’s shocked because the beauty has been invited or because she herself has never been invited,” Anne slyly whispered. At that moment Lisa arrived at their bench. “Hi there. Bunch up, please.” She sat down and shook her hair out of her face. Her eyes were sparkling. “I’ve already seen loads of cute boys,” she revealed. Anne laughed. “Then I hope your prey won’t run and hide like Hengist does.” Lisa grinned as well. After all she did have humour, if sometimes a bit less of sense than necessary. “No, I’ve already been invited twice for coffee.” Patience frowned. “Hang on. Have you been here for a week already?” “No. Why?” “Oh, nothing,” Patience mumbled, but Hengist knew she had thought Lisa had been the girl in the welcome lecture. “Are you finished here? Shall we go home and cook a welcome feast?” Lisa suggested. “I’ve already been shopping, so the fridge is well-filled,” she added beaming. “You’re a dear,” Patience told her and so the four set off towards their house. In the kitchen Patience became painfully aware that she had completely forgotten she had dumped a bag containing books and photographs there. Lisa snatched the uppermost frame and smiled. Hengist and Anne held their breath. What if the picture moved? It must be a wizard’s photo, it was bound to move! But obviously Patience had already taken precaution and stunned the picture. There was Petronella Wood, standing in her garden and waving at the viewer. “Who’s that?” Lisa asked. Anne went out to fetch some spices she had brought from home. Hengist prepared two pots, one for the noodles and one for the tomato sauce – their favourite and usual meal. Patience looked at the photo. “That’s my grandma, Petronella,” she told Lisa. Lisa nodded. “Where’s your grandpa?” she asked after having found pictures of the other members of the Wood family. Hengist peered over her shoulder just in time to see Patience quickly taking the last frame and hiding it behind her back. He grinned, suspecting it was a photo of Patience’s ghost great-aunt Caroline. “My grandpa?” Patience asked distractedly. “He’s dead.” Lisa gasped. “Oh dear. I’m really sorry, Patience,” she said. Patience frowned. “Why, thanks, Lisa,” she said, then snatched the bag. “I’ll put these in my room. I’ll be back in an instant,” she said. Lisa turned to Hengist. “And she so calm! It must be dreadful for her to know that her grandpa’s dead, he’s such a cute one! Remember how he helped you move in here!” Lisa sadly shook her head and sat down. Hengist murmured an excuse and fled. He found Anne in her own room rummaging in her suitcase for the spices. Hengist collapsed onto Anne’s bed and burst into laughter “Anne, Patience’s just killed Dumbledore!”

Banks at His Best

“Wood – a word with you!” Patience swivelled around furiously. One day, one single day she went alone to the library and that was the day she should meet that annoying pest Banks. “Yes?” she asked curtly. “Er… You said I could ask you for a date,” Banks said, suddenly looking very sheepish. Patience took a deep, steadying breath. She was sure this could be nothing but a nightmare. “With your housemate,” Banks continued, looking at his feet instead of at Patience. She grinned. “I said so, yes,” she replied. Banks stayed silent. “So…?” Patience prompted. Banks glared at her. “You know very well, Woodlouse… I mean, Patience. I want you to ask her for a date – for me.” “I’ll let you know,” Patience offhandedly decided and walked on.

“Hengist, Anne, we need a little… well, crisis council, you could say,” Patience burst out once she had entered the living room. Lisa was upstairs, which was rather lucky. Anne looked up from a particularly boring essay and grinned. “You met Daniel and he finally found the guts to ask you out,” she guessed. Patience shook her head. “You know he never will,” she said, then grinned. “But it’s got something to do with dating someone.” “You want to date someone else and want to know if he would like me better,” Hengist suggested. Patience burst into laughter. “No! Nothing with me!” “You could do with a date, you know,” Hengist seriously said, then he grinned as well. “But you can also do without it, I guess. So, who’s going to have a date?” “Lisa,” Patience revealed. Anne groaned. “My dear Patience, Lisa’s got a date at least twice a week!” “Yes, but has she ever had a date with a wizard?” Anne shrugged. “I don’t know if Daniel asks her out.” Patience sighed. “Can we keep Daniel out of this? Thanks. No, Banks wants to date her.” “That’s too much even for her,” Hengist said at once. “I’m not so sure,” Anne mused. Patience nodded. “And that’s my dilemma. Shall I really send her into this idiot’s arms, or shall I do something else?” “And that would be?” Hengist asked, suddenly suspicious. Patience smiled mysteriously. “You will see, Hengist, you will see. First I need to know what you think. Real Lisa or not?” Anne frowned. “Real Lisa? Hang on – I know what you have in mind!” she exclaimed. “That’s not bad,” she added. “Considering that Lisa is really nice, apart form one or two annoying habits, it would be unfair to send her to Banks.” “Especially knowing what we do about that git,” Hengist supported her. Patience nodded, apparently satisfied. “Then I know what to do. You two have been of infinite help, as always!”

Banks grew ever more nervous seeing Lisa Snyder. He thought she looked better with every day, and he was anxious to get to know if Patience had accomplished anything. He hailed her in a corridor on day: “Patience! Any news?” She turned to him with a face showing her disgust all too clear. “Somehow I liked it better when you called me by my surname,” she stiffly said. “No news as yet, that is, we’re looking for the perfect time. Be patient, Banks, for once.” With that she had disappeared. Now Roland sat on a bench in the bright sunshine, apparently reading in a thick volume of philosophy, when a shadow fell on his pages. “Tomorrow, eight o’clock, the pub in Magpie Lane,” Patience told him. He looked up. “Thank you,” he carefully said. Patience cocked an eyebrow. “I tell you, Banks, I wouldn’t go out with you even if someone had paid me a million galleons.” She shrugged. “But Lisa said yes. Maybe she’s a girl scout – one good deed a day!” she laughed and almost skipped away. Roland scowled. How he itched to jinx her! Then his thoughts turned to more urgent matters: what to do and wear and say to impress Lisa.

At 3, Magpie Lane, Patience had just poured herself an extremely ugly looking drink. Lisa came into the room. “What’s that?” she asked suspiciously. “My granny’s doing alternative medicine,” Patience lied with a smile. “It’s said to be good for resisting flu.” Lisa grinned. “You drink that, and I stay away from the sick – will that do?” Patience laughed. “Sure. I don’t want to make anyone drink that – only I promised granny, you see,” she told Lisa who nodded sympathetically. “Does she have anything that heals headaches?” she suddenly asked. Patience frowned. ”Yes, sure. Do you need anything?” “Hm… Is it as disgusting as this?” “No,” Patience said amused, “It’s rather tasty. I found out it tastes a lot like jelly babies.” “Found out?” Lisa asked. Patience cursed inwardly. “Yes, she changed the mixture apparently,” she quickly lied. “Oh. I like jelly babies,” Lisa stated. Patience nodded. “Wait a moment, and don’t touch this,” she warned and disappeared upstairs. Lisa eyed the glass filled with the greenish thick liquid suspiciously. “That looks like slimy water from a very, very dirty pond,” she thought aloud. Hengist entered the kitchen. “Ah, the flu thingy. I hope Patience didn’t make you drink it,” he said to Lisa who shook her head. “No, no, I wouldn’t touch it anyway.” At that moment Patience reappeared with a small bottle labelled ‘Headache’. Hengist grinned and left before he burst into laughter. Patience gave Lisa a small glass filled with a slightly orange liquid. “Drink, it’ll help,” she assured the muggle girl. Lisa sniffed, but Patience had been right: it resembled jelly babies. Lisa drained the glass in one swallow. “You were right, it’s good,” she said. Then her eyes grew wide and her head fell onto the table. Patience scowled. “I should have thought to put a cushion there.” She opened the door.

“Okay, my dears, the operation Banks Date can begin,” she called. Hengist and Anne entered. Anne nodded. “Sleeping Beauty,” she cooed. Hengist groaned. “And I have to take her into her bed?” “That’s vital to the plan. And don’t forget to lock her in, in case she wakes up too early,” Patience reminded the boy who had just managed to take Lisa into his arms to carry her upstairs. Anne went in front to open all the doors. When she came back, there was no Patience anymore – at least it seemed so. Instead there was Lisa, sitting on the chair that Patience had occupied before. ”Hello, Anne,” she said. Anne grinned. “You’ve got the little flask if one hour isn’t enough?” Anne asked. Patience-Lisa nodded. “Good, then, let’s go.” Anne put on a dark jacket and followed Patience into the evening air. They did not have to walk far, the pub was only some five houses from their house.

Roland Banks was already waiting. Anne noticed with a grin that he had even brought a flower, a pink rose. Patience grimaced, then remembered that she was Lisa – and Lisa loved pink. “How charming,” Patience simpered in her best Lisa-manner and Banks went brick-red. “I… I’m really honoured, Lisa, yes, honoured that you came here.” “I promised to come, and how could I just spoil the evening for such a nice young man?” Patience replied, carefully looking at Roland with that glance Lisa used to make her dates go crazy about her. Anne had settled down at the bar. She had promised Hengist to faithfully report every detail, as  Hengist had to watch over Lisa. Roland decided it was time to fetch something to drink. “What would you like?” he asked eagerly. Patience was at a loss. Then she said, “Just mineral water, please, I’m on a diet.” It sounded like just the thing Lisa would say. Banks smiled in what he thought a charming way – to Patience and Anne it looked grotesque. “Why would such perfection as you need a diet?” Patience laughed, and Banks went to order the drinks, feeling rather a successful young man. He did not even notice Anne, as he turned every two seconds to wave or wink at Patience. She gave her best to appear just as pleased.

Banks returned soon, and then asked: “What do you do next Saturday?” Patience raised her eyebrows. “Ho, Roland, that’s too fast. Let us first see if we really like each other.” Banks smiled again in that disgusting way. “I am certain that I could not like anyone better.” “Oh, really? Not even an old love from school? You must have been really sought after,” Patience cooed, throwing back the long blond hair. Banks nodded. “Yes, yes, there were some – among them also your housemate, Patience Wood,” he said, trying to appear very modest. Patience nearly gave herself away, but caught her balance again and said: “Really? It must have been hard for her when you turned her down!” “Ah, who says so? But she’s really not worth spending more than a night with – you are a queen where she is just a ragged child.” Patience laughed, although she could have killed Banks. How many people had got to know this awful lie about her and him? “And Anne, was she also one of your admirers? But,” Patience laughed the false laugh again, ”how could she not.” She reached out and lightly touched Roland’s wrist. Banks looked as if she had just told him she would marry him. “Yes, Anne, too, but she was also not much better – a little, yes, it was two weeks.” Anne at the bar nearly choked on her coke. “You’re really a dashing man, Roland Banks. Tell me, what are your plans for the future?” “Oh, my father will see to it that I will be a good…” Banks suddenly realized he had no idea what to say about that. A good clerk in the Ministry of Magic? Impossible. “A good lawyer,” he awkwardly finished his sentence. “Ah. That means money. Well, this is certainly no impediment for everyone in their right minds to go out with you.” Patience smiled dazzlingly, then checked her watch. Five minutes and she would be Patience again. If there had not been a crowd of Muggles around, Patience would have considered to simply become herself again, but as it was she did not risk getting into trouble at the Ministry. “It was a charming hour, Roland,” she said. “But I have to leave.” “Ah, yes, that’s as it always is with fairy princesses,” Roland chuckled. Patience stared at him. “Yes, I assume so,” she dryly said. “Can I call you?”

“No, Roland. You’re too much of an impostor – did you think I never talked with Anne and Patience about you? I just wanted to see if what they told was true!” Patience said, suddenly in a harsh voice. Roland blinked as if a basin of cold water had been emptied over his head. “But… but you came here,” he protested. “As I said: to see if there was really anyone that stupid and boasting as you. Have a good night, Roland Banks!” And Lisa-Patience left triumphantly. Anne quickly paid for her coke and followed her friend. Luckily there was nobody around to see the transformation of Lisa into Patience. “Good old Polyjuice Potion,” Anne dreamily remarked. “Oh, damn,” Patience hissed as she stumbled. Lisa’s feet were bigger than hers, so the shoes were suddenly rather loose. “That was mean, you know,” Anne said, then laughed. “But so much fun!”

A Divine Body

Anne had gone for a walk. It was a lovely day. The sun was shining and everything was to her taste. It was about nine o’clock. A cat joined her on the way. It wasn’t any particular cat. It was neither beautiful nor particularly exceptional. Anne loved all sorts of animals and was on her way to meet some cows. She had walked this path many times and knew every single house on the way.

The cat walked next to Anne. They trotted around a bent and were greeted by barking dogs. The cat was scared. “Don’t worry, little one, just two friendly dogs.” It seemed to Anne that someone had said ‘three’ but she wasn’t sure. “And they are locked.” She added. “Want to have a look?” She got the cat and raised her carefully. Three dogs waged their tails at Anne and her companion. The cat shivered.The cat walked next to Anne. They trotted around a bent and were greeted by barking dogs. The cat was scared. “Don’t worry, little one, just two friendly dogs.” It seemed to Anne that someone had said ‘three’ but she wasn’t sure. “And they are locked.” She added. “Want to have a look?” She got the cat and raised her carefully. Three dogs waged their tails at Anne and her companion. The cat shivered.

A man in bathing trousers appeared. To say that he was very well-built would be an underestimation. Anne greeted him and he greeted her. “Let’s go cat or else the dogs won’t stop barking.” She said and walked away, but not without turning and observing the man from afar. “What a sight indeed.”  She said to the cat. “Now, we’re better be off to the cows. You want to walk for yourself?” She placed the cat on the ground and continued her stroll.

The cows were already waiting. It wasn’t exactly that they expected her to come; they simply had no choice, where should they have gone? She lifted the cat again. “Cows this is cat, cat these are cows.” Anne introduced them to each other. “Yes, and by the way, this is me and these are you. Cat me me cat.” She laughed. The cat didn’t like the cows too much. Anne stretched out her hand and the cow attempted to lick it. “No!” Anne protested. “I think, you would like that but I don’t!” As a consequence the cow only sniffed her hand.

“Well, good bye cows. What about you cat? Will you give me the honour of your company?” The cat walked next to Anne. They passed the house with the three dogs, respectively the one divine body. Nobody was to be seen. “A pity, cat, better luck next time.” She returned to the flat in Magpie Lane. She had a day off – sort of – and had promised to prepare a wonderful meal for her two friends.

Hengist sat down at the table. Anne looked at him. “Did you ever think of doing some exercise?” “What sort of exercise? English or history?” He wanted to know. “Physical.” She replied. Patience looked up. “I’m sorry, I think I didn’t get the last part.” Hengist said. “Physical, you know, something in which your body is involved.” She explained. Hengist looked at himself. “Anything wrong with my body?” “Well, there could be some more muscles.” Anne replied.

“You’re not a living muscle yourself.” Hengist reminded her. Anne looked down at herself and decided that she looked like a sausage. She leaned back in her chair and decided to quit the meal – this meal. “What’s wrong with you?” Patience wanted to know. “Too little muscles and too much fat.” Anne sighed. “Hey!” Hengist protested. “Not you, me.” She replied. “What’s all this talk about muscles?” Patience said.

“Never mind…” Anne sighed. “Haven’t you been for a walk today?” Hengist said. “Yes.” She replied. “Oh, interesting, whom did you meet?” Patience asked. Anne told the whole story. It was decided that she should go on a walk again as soon as possible. And so it happened that she found herself on the same path the next day. The cat joined her as she had done before. She passed the house but nobody was to be seen. No dogs and no divine body either.

Anne looked over the fence and sighed. She had feared so yesterday but hadn’t had enough time to check. Now that nobody was there to interfere she could catch an extended glimpse of the garden. She sighed again but it didn’t help. She went to visit the cows and on her way back one last time passed the house with its garden. There was no use looking.

“How was it?” Patience burst out when Anne opened the door. By Anne’s face she could tell that something was wrong. “He wasn’t there?” She tried first. Anne shook her head. “No, he wasn’t there, but he’s gone for ever.” She told her. “What do you mean?” Patience wanted to know. “He’s gay?” Hengist tried hopefully. “No, I don’t think so.” She replied.

She sat down at the kitchen table. “The garden is a children’s playground.” She revealed. “Oh no!” Patience sighed and sat down opposite of Anne. “A pity.” Hengist decided. “You don’t know what a pity it is.” Anne added. She looked at Hengist. “Better you won’t do any exercises. I wouldn’t want you to break any girl’s heart.” Hengist smiled at her. “I won’t believe that he broke your heart. You didn’t even talk.” He reminded them. “Oh yes, he did. He said three and hello.” Patience intervened. Anne had to grin. “Yes, he can count to three and is polite. That’s a lot – for a man I mean.”

“There are plenty of men swimming in the sea.” Hengist attempted a common muggle saying. “But we don’t live at the sea.” Patience replied. “Just forget it. Anne if you want a well-built man why don’t you go and do some exercises? You’ll meet plenty of well-built people there.” He suggested. “That’s different. It was almost like fate, you know.” She sighed one last time. “Fate, I always thought we would make our own fate.” Patience threw in. Anne shrugged. “I bet you wouldn’t have thrown him out of your fate either.” They laughed.

“But honestly, look at me, I’m a sausage.” Anne said decidedly. “I need help.” She sighed. “A sausage in need is a sausage indeed.” Hengist said. “Hengist!” Patience said in a scolding voice. “Sorry.” He apologized. “It’s just – we like you the way you are and as far as I remember Charlie liked you the way you were, so, where is the point in changing?” Anne had to think about this. “Well, if you and he liked me when I didn’t change you might still like me when I change?” Anne asked carefully. Hengist smiled at her. “We will always like you.” He promised. “Well, then that’s decided.” Anne said, got up and left the room. “What is decided?” Patience asked. Hengist shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Four Days Abroad

They sat together in the living room in the evening, reading all the papers they had been given. “What the heck is this?!”, Hengist exclaimed reading what was required. “I quote: ‘Every student has to spend at least four days abroad’!” Anne grinned. “I’ve already done my duty, they accepted my last holidays in Hungary.” Patience pulled a face. “But without you it will only be half the fun.” Suddenly someone Apparated in the middle of the room. “Hi!”, Daniel Rutherford said, sitting down uninvited. “Hello”, Patience answered. “You’re lucky Lisa isn’t at home.” Daniel blushed slightly. “I tend to forget Emerson has told you to keep a house with a muggle. Anyway, I’m here because of abroad. You three are not allowed to go together or even with other witches and wizards.” “Not too bad considering there’s only Slytherin idiot Banks here except us”, Hengist remarked. “An offer to Patience”, Daniel went on, ignoring Hengist. “Four days Paris, you and a fellow student. Wednesday next week.” He looked as if he had given Patience tickets for the Quidditch World Cup Final. She wasn’t as excited and happy. “Oh”, she simply said, looking for support in Anne and Hengist. Anne shrugged helplessly. “It’s the absolute minimum, Patience, and I’ll try to find something in this category for you as well, Hengist.” Daniel looked cheerfully around. “Okay, I see, I have to go and the sooner the better”, Patience sighed. “That’s what I wanted to hear. Here are your tickets, enjoy Paris. See you, folks!” And Daniel Disapparated. “Gush, why did it have to be France?”, Patience asked, rifling through the papers Daniel had left. “What is so bad about France?”, Anne asked curiously. “Ever heard them talk English? Abominable. They were at war with us every time they thought it convenient, and even one of their Queens took the chance to come to England!” Anne looked bewildered, not knowing what Patience was talking about. Hengist grinned and explained: “That’s Eleanor, wife of our Henry II. She was first married to one of the earlier of the numerous Louis de France, got divorced and came to England. And all of that in the 12^th century!” Anne tried to be duly impressed but had at the same time to fight down the urge to laugh. “So you have historical reasons to dislike France”, she said to Patience who nodded, grinning by now. “Well, I have one to go: You like Ancient Egypt, so go to the Louvre and see the exhibition.” That comforted Patience a bit.

Wednesday came, and very early in the morning Patience took leave. “Wonder when we’re going to hear of her”, Hengist yawned. Anne nodded tiredly. “Muggle post is much too slow.” They went to bed again to catch some further hours of sleep. When they returned home in the evening after classes, Lisa was locked in her room. “Wonderful silence”, Hengist sighed. “Shall I Summon a pizza or something?” Anne nodded. “Would be perfect.” “Accio pizza!”, Hengist said, pointing his wand to the table. Anne opened the window just in time to let the pizza in – and with it a brown owl. “A letter!”, Anne exclaimed, freeing the owl of her burden and paying it. “From Patience.” Then she read it aloud to Hengist: “Dear Anne and Hengist, we have arrived at Paris today. Muggle Paris, and I simply don’t know how to send you an owl. Anyway, Lisa would be shocked if an owl knocked on her window…So I’m trying to get this to you by Muggle post. Takes me hours to get the stamps but never mind. I miss you. Not that Paris isn’t beautiful and interesting, not that they don’t understand English – but if you were here, what fun we could have! Imagine the Malignant Magpies strolling down Champs-Elysée! No one would have a stand against us. I fear I will have a continual headache thanks to the noise and the fact I haven’t got the time to eat and drink regularly. My feet are already sore, because today we have already walked around our quartier (don’t ask which, around Montmartre) for more than four hours. I don’t complain, I’m only tired and exhausted. I never wanted to got to France, but it’s not so bad at all. Yet I long to be back at Oxford with you,. Give Emerson my regard, if he turns up. Your homesick friend Patience. P.S.: I’ve found an owl post a little further on in our street, but it’s horribly expensive. Hope you get the letter delivered quickly!” “She doesn’t sound cheerful, does she? Maybe we should go and visit her.” “No, Hengist, we’ve already had enough trouble explaining our Saturday afternoon absences. Even if only you would go it would rouse suspicions!”, Anne answered. Hengist thought she rather looked like McGonagall and kept silent.

They did not expect another letter the next day but when Lisa screamed: “There’s a vulture knocking at my window!”, they knew another owl had arrived. They read the letter, sitting in Anne’s room. “Dear Anne and Hengist, this is the second day in Paris and I’m growing more relaxed (my muscles do the contrary thanks to not being used to long walks!). It would be easy just to pick up the map and Apparate somewhere but no! We use muggle transports and walk. Paris seems to consist mainly of stairs. Nevertheless, I like it. I liked the Louvre especially – of course, a medieval palace has to draw me in. In the Musée d’Orsay I saw a painting called ‘La Sorcière’: a woman, hooded, a bit of black hair visible, with a bird and a cat. I liked that one. What I really loved was… the unexpected. I mean, I knew the Louvre contained precious things but I didn’t know the Imhotep-statue was there and the little equestrian statue of Charlemagne. You stand in front of these and gape and I assure you I’ll never forget these moments. The weather was beautiful, bright sunshine, warm – printemps à Paris! We sat in the gardens of the Tuileries. From there, you’re able to see the Place d’Étoile with the Arc de Triomphe and also a needle and the Eiffel Tower. But that we’re going to visit tomorrow, as well as Notre-Dame etc. I’ve found an owlery in these market halls just across the street. Dunno why, but the muggles keep running by it and never notice. Friendly though he is, this French wizard doesn’t give away his protection. Greetings to Lisa, might be the owl has the wrong window… I still miss you dearly, but I’m also having fun. Your friend Patience.”

The little malicious streak in Patience made her sent the letters into Lisa’s room. Lisa had a screaming fit the second time owl post arrived: “Dear Anne and Hengist, this is the third day and I need Madam Pomfrey. You couldn’t send her to Apparate in Rue de Chabrol??? No, you couldn’t. I saw a beautiful black cat today, in a (closed) English bookstore. I’d say it was an animagus, but I couldn’t prove that – obvious reasons, you know. We walked a lot today. My feet hurt violently, and that’s what I need Poppy Pomfrey for. Or a good recipe, maybe this wizard can help me fetch the ingredients. But I’m home again tomorrow, and I must say I’m happy to say so. Is there Quidditch tomorrow? You must go and support Verres. Go Gryffindor!!! Oh, and I miss it…’Course, I could Apparate in Hogsmeade, but my companion can’t. So no Quidditch, but a long, dreary train journey instead. But everything that brings me back to you is great, marvellous, wonderful. No, really, as much as I enjoy Paris I do not feel it. I do not love it. It’s like a beautiful façade without heart. Okay, London is all heart and no façade, but I loved it, still love it. The French might be friendly, but as I don’t understand them and they don’t me I prefer the stiff English, thank you very much. That’s enough. We had blazing sun, a nice day and now goodbye, see you tomorrow, I’ll call when I’m there. Keep your crystal in view at about seven p.m., Hengist. I try to concentrate and will appear there. Your poor, homesick, Quidditch-sick and sore-footed friend Patience.”

And the last day, when Patience was expected back, an exhausted owl arrived and landed on the kitchen table while they had lunch. Lisa instantly decided to spend the weekend at home and disappeared as fast as she could. “Thanks, Patience, a muggle-free weekend!”, Hengist yelled, triumphantly, his fist raised. “And now I at least will go and support Gryffindor.” Anne sighed, flying over the contents of the last letter: ”Dear Anne and Hengist, what a pleasure to write to you now! I’m at last on my way home, aboard the train. The weather is fine, my feet are still sore and pain me, but I’M LEAVING FRANCE! Now I see that I’m not a ‘francophile’ person. Not at all. The language repels me, the people, the noise, the traffic… I’m all for green fields, cottages and the melodious English language. How are you now? I wonder if you are supporting Oliver now… In my heart I’m with him and the Gryffindors. Hope Lee’s as good a commentator as they could want. If I were less modest I’d say he has to be better than me to win glory and that’ll be hard! Oh, I could embrace the whole world, I’m almost home again! Leaving France… My heart leaps up when I behold that this abominable country is flying by. And home coming nearer. I’m really looking forward to seeing you again. You heartily happy friend, Patience.” Hengist came downstairs again, wearing a gold and red striped Gryffindor scarf. “But I think Gryffindor doesn’t play”, Anne said, hoping in vain it would stop Hengist from going. So she told herself it would be a payment to Patience for the Lisa-free weekend and prepared herself to endure Quidditch.
       

She had been right. The match was Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff. Lee Jordan was already introducing the players when Anne and Hengist came running up from Hogsmeade. Hagrid spotted them from the Gryffindor stand and waved them up. They climbed upstairs as fast as they could and arrived upstairs breathlessly. Oliver grinned. “Where’s my sister?”, he asked. “In Paris, but she’ll be back again this evening”, Hengist informed him. Oliver’s eyes showed his surprise clearly. “Patience is in Paris? I remember my parents once wanted to go to Paris in the holidays and Patience almost burnt down our house because she didn’t want to go!” “She had to go, because of some rules at the university.” Oliver didn’t listen to Anne, because the match had begun. “Hufflepuff’s got a new seeker, Cedric Diggory. He is good, they say”, Oliver told them. Anne frowned. “How well is your seeker?”, she asked. Oliver winced. “Not so well”, he confessed. “I just hope next year or so a new seeker turns up from nowhere or anywhere!” Diggory indeed was good. He flew extremely fast. “I can’t remember Hufflepuff ever having played so well”, Hengist wondered. Oliver nodded sadly. Hagrid snorted. “Still they won’t beat Ravenclaw an’ you don’ be worried, Oliver, Gryffindor’s gonna win next week!” Oliver still looked doubtful. At the end of the match it became clear Hagrid’s prediction was wrong. Hufflepuff won, because their new seeker caught the snitch. “Oliver, keep cool, you’re going to make it!”, Hengist soothed the younger boy. “We have to go, prepare everything for your sister’s arrival. See you!” Anne and Hengist said goodbye to everyone they knew and hurried down to Hogsmeade. They Apparated home a quarter to seven. Hengist Summoned his crystal and kept an eye on it while he and Anne were cooking the muggle way.
 

They had decided on making spaghetti with peas and ham. That was easy, they had thought. It proved to be not so easy. The noodles tended to bake in the pot, the ham crumpled and smelt burned, the peas were still icy. “I give up”, Anne finally said, her face hot and red. Hengist agreed instantly, taking out his wand and clearing up the mess magically. “Hengist, there’s something in your crystal”, Anne said suddenly. Hengist looked at it. “Oh, hi, Patience”, he said. Patience’s mouth moved. “Okay, yes, understood, see you later.” Hengist turned smiling. “Patience’s going to be home in about one and a half hour.” Anne nodded. “Fine. By then a magically cooked meal will await her!” “Magically cooked… Hm. Won’t she be much more pleased and surprised if we would at least get one thing done the Muggle way?”, Hengist asked Anne. “Yes”, Anne sighed. “Why don’t we cook the meal magically and simply bake a cake?”, she suggested. Hengist grinned. “Fine. I’ll Summon the cookbook.” If Lisa still had been there, Hengist would have certainly managed to throw it against her head, but as she wasn’t, the book landed neatly on the kitchen table. “Okay. Cake… Here’s something. We need milk, eggs, sugar, flour and a bit of salt.” Anne looked up after reading and saw Hengist in front of the fridge. “We haven’t got eggs up here”, he said. “Then fetch some from the cellar”, Anne grinned. Hengist waved his wand lazily. “Accio eggs!”, he called. Anne thought that a pretty good idea – until the eggs came flying into the kitchen and one after the other smashed on the kitchen floor. “Oh dear”, Anne gasped. Never had the Biffido spell been more useful than now. “I think you should walk into the cellar now, Hengist”, Anne suggested. Hengist nodded guiltily and fetched the eggs the Muggle way. Mixing the dough was, as Anne put it, rather like mixing a potion: you had to throw in the ingredients in the correct order and stir heavily. “It doesn’t smoke, though”, she joked. Hengist snorted. “If it did we would have done something wrong!” “How long does it have to bake?”, Anne asked. Hengist looked it up. “Half an hour. But, Anne, shouldn’t we put it into something else? I mean, this plastic shrinks in heat, someone told me.” “Someone told you?”, Anne repeated curiously. Hengist smiled bashfully. “Yes. I’ve overheard some other students talking about their cooking experiments and thought I might learn something, and they said that they had tried to put a plastic bowl into the microwave oven and it melted. I think heat destroys it.” “What shall we use then?”, Anne asked, opening the doors of the kitchen shelves. “Like that”, Hengist suddenly exclaimed, fumbling for some round thing made of metal. “Pray, what is this?”, Anne asked. “I think it is something to bake a cake in. It looks exactly like that thing drawn in the cookbook. And… Wait, Anne, we have something like that at home, too. Mum uses it for baking. Don’t your parents have one as well?” Anne shrugged. “We have a house elf, so my sister and me don’t have to help in the kitchen. You don’t seem to help there very often as well!” Hengist grinned. “I’m always too awkward, my mother says. So I’m thrown out. I cultivated my kitchen-awkwardness over the years!” Anne laughed and they put the dough into the form. Putting it into the oven and baking it was not a problem any more. Looking at the clock on the wall, Anne exclaimed they should hurry making the meal for Patience would arrive in a few minutes. They heard the roaring of a car outside. “Either it’s Lisa coming back or it’s Patience”, Anne grinned. Hengist smiled and opened the front door. “Doesn’t look in the least like the Muggle”, he said contentedly. “Bonsoir, Mademoiselle Wood!” Patience waved at her friends, paid the taxi driver and took her rucksack and her trunk. “Don’t talk French, I’m longing for plain, beautiful English!”, she called over. Having arrived at the door, she embraced first Anne, then Hengist. “Come in, we’ve cooked something for you!”, Anne told her friend. Patience looked around.
 

As there was no Muggle to be seen, she waved her wand: “Wingardium Leviosa!” The trunk flew in front of her into the house and up the stairs. Patience, being tired and weary, unpacked her trunk by magic as well. It caused a scream downstairs and the distinct words: “Emerson! Oh dear!” could be heard. Patience rolled her eyes. How did Professor Dicket manage to get to know every time they used magic – or rather, every time they used too much magic. “Come upstairs, Emerson!”, she yelled through the house. The heavy steps on the stairs told her the professor was indeed on his way. “Do tell me what you’re doing here!”, he said sternly, leaning against the doorframe and watching Patience making objects fly around the room. “Unpacking my things. I’ve been at Paris for a few days, and I’m tired, and Lisa is not at home!” “Ah, well. And that made you suppose using magic would be allowed?” “Emerson, please!” Patience stopped unpacking and looked up at her professor. His grubby nose was pale, so he wasn’t angry at all. “It’s okay. I’m glad to have you back in England. See you all soon!” And Emerson Disapparated. “I just wonder why he does that! As if it weren’t suspicious to Muggles seeing someone come but not leave again!”, Patience grinned. “Tell us about Paris”, Hengist urged her when they sat at the kitchen table enjoying the meal. “Oh, it’s beautiful, really”, Patience said, sounding not very convincing. “The truth, if you don’t mind”, Anne commanded promptly. “The truth? Well, in architecture there is not so much variation in Paris, for most of the boulevards are lined with white houses with black iron grates. Every quarter belongs to a different group, and we were at the border between Arabian and Jewish quarter. The museums are wonderful – but not for free, as our London museums are.” “The Tower’s not for free!”, Hengist interrupted. “That’s Queen’s law, isn’t it? She seems to need the money”, Patience stated. Anne giggled. “She needs the money to quiet the press!” “Oh, shut up!”, Hengist moaned. “Hengist the royalist, how funny!”, Anne said. “Let Patience tell about Paris”, Hengist changed topics. “There’s not so much to tell”, she protested. “My feet are sore, because we’ve walked mostly – once through the whole town. That was beautiful, yes. But also very boring, for the shops were either much too expensive or way too shabby.” “No shopping?” “No. Only in the museum shops. I’ve bought myself a Book of Hours!” “Not the Everlasting Chronicles, I hope?”, Anne asked with fake alarm. “You’re the millionaire, not me, remember?”, Patience answered lightly. “And this tiny book is a prayer book, not a chronicle!” They chatted the whole evening about the world in general and their world in special.

Poles

“What use are those?” Anne asked amused. Hengist frowned and looked around. “Watch out!” Patience cried – too late. Hengist had already walked into a metal pole reaching just up to his hip. “Ouch – oh,” he groaned. “Exactly those – what use are they?” Anne mercilessly repeated her question. Hengist shrugged, still unable to speak because of the pain. Patience looked at him and smiled. “Oh, poor Hengist, can we walk on? Yes? You shall see, I’ll help you,” she assured her friend.

The Magpies walked on, soon encountering another row of poles. Hengist tried to steer the girls into a space between poles, but suddenly, the poles obligingly made way, forming a kind of guard. People around them laughed and pointed. Hengist stopped and stared, first at the poles, then at Patience. “You…,” he gasped. Patience only smiled at him. “That’s really, really bad,” Hengist whispered. Anne watched the poles slide into their proper place again. “Are they supposed to do that?” she asked mildly interested. “No!” Hengist said sharply. “They are supposed to block ways for cars, and sometimes even for bikes – most likely for motorbikes, too,” he added. “And you,” Patience reminded him, still smiling happily. “Tell me that I had just had a vision,” Hengist pleaded. “No. The poles formed a guard,” Patience answered. “But – it wasn’t my work.”

 

As little as Hengist and Anne had believed Patience, as little did Emerson Dicket believe her. Lisa was out, fortunately, when he popped up, livid with fury. “That was a serious breech of the decree for the use of magic in Muggle-inhabited areas,” he fumed. “It was not me,” Patience said desperately. “Oh, come on, you told Hengist you wanted to help him, and then the poles move out of the way – Patience, you’re going to have a hearing for that!” Dicket said and sank into an armchair, ruffling his hair. “But it wasn’t me,” Patience repeated. “Then who could have done it?” Dicket asked. “No idea,” Anne admitted.

They sat in silence for a while. “Why hasn’t the Ministry written yet?” Hengist suddenly asked. “What?” Dicket asked sharply. “They haven’t contacted you yet?” “No,” Patience said. “But they usually react within the minute,” Dicket said. “Patience, girl, maybe you are not the culprit after all!” “That’s what I’m telling you all the time,” Patience sighed. “Still, it is a riddle,” Hengist mused and scratched his head.

At that moment the doorbell rang. “I’ll go,” Anne volunteered and went to open. “Are you all at home, yes?” asked a worried voice. Patience jumped up. “Arsenio!” she called. Indeed it was Arsenio Crumlum who hurried into the living room, crushing and uncrushing his old-fashioned cap between his hands nervously. “It was my fault,” he burst out. Dicket jumped to his feet. “Your fault, man?” he roared. “And you let my students suffer for this?” “Actually, we didn’t suffer,” Hengist pointed out. It did not help. Emerson rose to magnificence in protecting his charges: “You are a fully qualified wizard, Crumlum, and a friend of the children. But still you get them into such trouble!” “But it wasn’t me myself,” Arsenio cried over Dicket’s booming voice. Patience laughed out loud. “Welcome to the club, Arsenio,” she said and led the sweetshop-owner to a comfortable armchair. “Do sit down, and explain,” she said gently. Arsenio patted her hand. “Thank you, piccola rossa,” he said gratefully.

“So, explain yourself, Crumlum,” Dicket growled and sat down again. “It was my helping hand, Orlando,” Arsenio reported miserably. “Who?” the Magpies asked in one voice. They had never seen any helping hand at Sweet Italy, not even when being allowed to have a glimpse into the kitchen. “Orlando. He is my apprentice, you see, and he’s a bit… well, a bit of a rascal, yes?” Arsenio said apologetically. “He loves playing tricks, and I told him about you three, and when he saw you, and especially the incident with the poles…” Hengist winced in painful memory. “Well, Orlie certainly thought it funny,” Arsenio ended lowly. Dicket groaned. “I assume you have got an owl from the Ministry,” he said. Arsenio nodded miserably. “Orlie’s hearing is next Friday.” “Can we be of help?” Anne asked concerned. Dicket cleared his throat. “You three don’t want to get into trouble with the Ministry yet again,” he warned. “No,” Patience agreed. “Well, well, Crumlum, but I can be of help. I do have some experience in getting young rascals out of tight scrapes,” Dicket offered. Arsenio’s face brightened up. He seized Emerson’s hand and wrung it. “You will, yes? Oh thank you, thank you a million times!”

 

When the Magpies went to Sweet Italy that weekend, they found Arsenio busy in decorating tiny muffins with the words “He got off”. Grinning, they ordered a muffin each and were served for the first time not by Arsenio, but by a young dark-haired man with sparkling brown eyes. “Thanks for getting the Professor to help me,” he said and flashed a smile at the three. “No matter,” Anne said briskly. “But try never to get us into trouble again – we can very well manage for ourselves,” Patience advised Orlando. He nodded. “I shall try not to move any poles when you walk through them,” he promised. “Orlie! No poles at all!” Arsenio shrieked and they all laughed.

An Accident

It was the perfect day to be outside, a perfect autumn day with a little wind, blue sky, and the leaves of the trees turning golden. It was the perfect day to play Quidditch, as Patience had pointed out gleefully. Anne decided it was rather the perfect day to prepare the garden for the winter and the upcoming night frosts. Hengist was a little doubtful about playing Quidditch in a nearly all-Muggle environment. “Come on, admit it, you’re tempted,” Patience teased him. “Sure I am – but we’re only two, you know you won’t get Anne to play,” Hengist said. “Well, we don’t even have a Quaffle or something, so we can only throw a water ball anyway,” Patience laughed. “Wow, what will Oliver say?” Anne asked amused. “He’d come with us,” Patience retorted unimpressed.

“But only the two of us…,” Hengist repeated uncertainly. “Okay. If you’re a coward, then I’ll organise a third. Deal?” Patience challenged her friend. “If you really find a third, I’ll come with you,” Hengist answered. Anne grimaced as she watched Patience leave the garden with a definite spring in her step. “She’s got something up her sleeve, she does,” Anne warned Hengist. “She’ll turn up with nobody, Anne. Orlando’s got to work, she’ll never find another wizard but Banks and she’d never ask him,” Hengist soothed Anne. But Anne was not so sure that everything would be so easy…

 

Patience found Roland Banks in the cloister of Christ Church College. “Hey, Banks,” she said casually. Predictably, Banks’ head jerked up and his hand grabbed in a reflex for his wand. Patience grinned. “No need for that, I’d say. You’re surrounded by Muggles – and I’m not keen on spending my holidays in Azkaban. How about a game of Quidditch?” she asked. Banks stared at her. “What?” he asked stupidly. “A game of Quidditch. You, Hengist, me, and someone else. I thought a bit of sport could do you good,” Patience said, eyeing Banks with barely hidden amusement. “You ask me?” Banks asked suspiciously, looking around if there was anyone behind him.

Patience sighed. “Okay, once again for our dunderheads: I am asking you if you want to play some Quidditch or if you prefer sulking here on your own. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance, mind you,” she added warningly. “Why me?” Banks asked. Patience shrugged. “There’s not much choice, is there?” “You could ask Daniel Rutherford, you know,” Banks suggested. Patience closed her eyes briefly. “Yes. I could. In case you didn’t notice, Daniel has decided that doing magic just isn’t his idea of life. He fancies being a Muggle. So he’s not very likely to come with me to play a wizard game, is he?”

“No, of course not,” Banks admitted. He frowned. “I need to fetch my broom,” he said. “You had better do so. Let’s say we meet in half an hour on the island where the Cherwell is divided into two arms. You know the place?” “Yes. Okay,” Banks agreed. Patience beamed at him. “Wonderful. See you.” She went off, leaving Banks to wonder what devilry was probably behind her kind offer.

 

The next stop for Patience was Sweet Italy. Arsenio greeted her as cordially as ever. “Now, my piccola rossa, what can I do for you?” he asked. “I wonder if Orlando would fancy a game of Quidditch this afternoon,” Patience said frankly. “Oho. You want to abduct my apprentice,” Arsenio laughed. “Yes. I want to ask him if he joins Hengist and me and another wizard in a bit of Quidditch. Look, the weather’s gorgeous, and I think I’ve found a safe enough place,” Patience explained, batting her eyelids. Arsenio smiled and extended his arms. “My little girl, you can ask me anything. My heart just melts when you ask me like that. Orlando, come here!” Patience hid her grin at this.

Orlando came out of the kitchens, wiping his hands clean on his apron. He had a smudge of chocolate on his nose. “Yes?” he asked, then spotted Patience. “Hi,” he said and smiled warmly. “Hi you. I just managed to get you a free afternoon,” Patience announced. Arsenio nodded. “Under the condition,” he said sternly, and Orlando winced, “that you play a fair game of Quidditch with this young lady and her friends.” “What? Brilliant,” Orlando said and began to take off his apron. “I’ll come with you pronto, and…” “And take your broom,” Patience said laughing. “Of course. I’m outside in a minute.” “Right,” Patience said and beamed at Arsenio. “You are brilliant, you know,” she told the wizard. “Out with you before I change my will and make you heiress of all my possessions,” Arsenio grunted. Patience laughed and left the shop.

In the street she met Orlando. “Well, I appreciate threatening the opponent,” Patience said thoughtfully. Orlando frowned. “What do you mean?” “Generally, I mean. But honestly, painting your face….” Orlando stared at her as if she had lost her mind. “Your nose,” Patience explained, laughter bubbling up in her. Orlando took out his handkerchief and wiped the chocolate off. “You are unbelievable sometimes,” he told Patience who shrugged. “It’s the weather, and the prospect of Quidditch – it just makes me giddy.” Orlando grinned. “Right. Just make sure you don’t fall off your broom out of giddiness.”

 

When Patience turned up again at 3, Magpie Lane, Anne gave Hengist a meaningful glance. “I told you she had something up her sleeve.” Hengist groaned. “You managed to get Orlando free?” he asked. Patience nodded proudly. “And,” she said, her voice taking on a triumphant tone, “I asked Banks to play with us. Two against two. Cool, eh?” Hengist looked doubtful. “Banks? He’s a nuisance and he can’t play Quidditch.” “Hm. Perhaps I had better be in a team with him – I can play Quidditch,” Patience thought aloud. “Yes. Perhaps. Where do we play, anyway?”

Patience smiled. “On the island between the arms of the Cherwell River.” “Not bad. Trees, and the next houses are quite far away,” Hengist had to admit. Patience nodded. “Take your broom and come on, I told Banks we’d meet in half an hour.” “When did you tell him?” Anne wanted to know. “Half an hour ago,” Patience said and laughed. “He won’t mind, I’m sure.” Hengist had his broom now and together with Orlando and Patience he set off. Anne watched them leave, shaking her head. She just could not bring herself to like Quidditch.

 

Banks was already waiting when the other three arrived. However, he did not complain. He thought the peace was too fragile to be tried by nagging about the others being too late. Besides, it had been boring, sitting in the cloister reading. It was better even to play Quidditch with some Gryffindors. And that surely meant something, Banks decided. “Who will play with whom?” he enquired. Patience shrugged. “Shall we throw a coin?” Hengist suggested. “Yes. That’s just fair,” Orlando nodded. So Hengist found a coin. “Patience, you first,” he said. Patience threw the coin. “Head,” she said. “Okay. Orlie?” Orlando threw as well. “Head,” he said, sounding surprised. “Yes. Fine. That leaves us in one team, Banks,” Hengist stated. He felt a little uncomfortable at this. “We promise we’ll take it slow so you two got a chance,” Patience said generously, making them all laugh.

They started to play with the huge pink water ball Hengist had magically filled with air. At first it was just getting used again to flying and finding out how high they could go without spotting houses and consequently being visible themselves. But once they had found their perfect positions, they started to play in earnest. Banks had never been a successful flyer, nor a good Quidditch player. But Hengist, having been Seeker for Gryffindor, was making up for this as much as possible. It was difficult for them, though. Orlando and Patience were darting through the air like flashes of lightning. Hengist sometimes stopped to watch them and shake his head.

“You’re too good,” he called out. Patience laughed. “That’s because I always practise with Verres during the holidays.” “Well, so you’re cheating, you’re in training,” Hengist teased her. “No, I’m definitely not cheating,” Patience retorted. “I’m…” But what she was nobody ever got to know. Banks suddenly dived from his position to Patience’s left and collided with the rear of her broom. Patience couldn’t hold on and crashed into a tree, falling off her broom and landing rather hard on the ground.

“Patience!” Hengist yelled and dived after her, followed by Orlando. Banks, who had not realized what had happened, looked around in wonder. The pink water ball landed in the Cherwell River and made its way downriver in silence. Hengist jumped off his broom the moment his toes touched ground and ran towards Patience. She was lying with her eyes closed and there was a small ripple of blood running down her cheek from a cut on her forehead. “Patience, can you hear me?” Hengist asked anxiously. No answer came. “Is she breathing?” Orlando asked. Hengist nodded. “Yes. And her pulse is there, too.” He looked at Orlando. “What shall we do?” he asked. Banks landed next to them. “What happened?” he asked.

“You collided with her and she lost control,” Orlando told Banks. “Well, just an accident, then,” Banks shrugged. “She’s just pretending.” “No, she isn’t,” Hengist hissed furiously. He got up and pushed Banks with his back to a tree. “You – if you ever so much as look at her, I’ll kill you.” Orlando took Hengist’s arm and tried to get him away from Banks who looked frightened. “That’s no use, come on.” But Hengist did not pay heed. “Banks, I know you came only to manage something like that. But for once Patience was not up to anything other than playing Quidditch!”

“It was not my fault,” Banks wailed. Hengist laughed bitterly. “No. We knew you can’t fly. It was our fault to ask you. Now get yourself away before you find yourself jinxed beyond recognition.” Banks took his broom and positively ran away. Orlando sighed. “That didn’t help.” Hengist grimaced. “Oh but it did. Now, what to do with Patience?” “Get her to St. Mungo’s. We can’t explain to a Muggle doctor how Patience managed to fall four metres,” Orlando said. Hengist nodded. “I’ll take her. Will you inform Anne?” “Of course, and we’ll come to St. Mungo’s, too,” Orlando announced and went off. Hengist knelt down and took Patience’s limp form up so that she lay across his lap. “I’ve never done this, you know,” Hengist said to the still unconscious Patience. “But I’d try anything to help you.” He got up, Patience in his arms, and turned very slowly and determinedly.

It worked. He found himself standing in the reception area of St. Mungo’s. The Welcomewitch stared at them for a second, then got up, ignoring the queue of people in front of her desk. “Quidditch accident?” she asked. Hengist nodded. The Welcomewitch conjured up a stretcher and Hengist placed Patience gently onto it. “You a relative?” the witch asked. Hengist shook his head. “Just a friend.” “Then I must ask you to wait for her. She’ll be taken care of immediately. This is Healer Bancroft.” A bespectacled young woman had appeared next to the stretcher and gave Hengist a reassuring smile. “We’ve seen worse. She’ll be alright.” Then they were off, and Hengist stood there, feeling numb.

His arms hurt, and he had blood on his shirt and face and hands. Suddenly someone placed a hand on his shoulder. Hengist jumped. “How is Patience?” Anne asked, looking pale and anxious. “I don’t know, they carried her off, and I… we, I mean, we’re not allowed to see her before the Healer says it’s okay.” “Should we inform her family?” Orlando enquired. Anne swallowed. “I don’t want to break it to them.” “Me neither. Shall we wait until we know something definite?” Hengist asked the others.

At that moment Healer Bancroft turned up. “You brought the young woman in who had the nasty Quidditch accident, right?” she addressed Hengist. “Yes,” Hengist replied. “How is she?” “Erm… Since you’re not family I can’t tell you. Could you inform her family, please? But tell them she’ll be alright,” Healer Bancroft added hastily, seeing Anne’s shocked face. “Sure. Sure, we will do that,” Orlando assured the Healer who gave him a grateful smile. “Can we see her?” Anne asked. Healer Bancroft shook her head apologetically. “No, I’m sorry, but family’s first, you see.” “Did she wake up? Oh, please, tell us at least something,” Anne begged. Healer Bancroft sighed. “I already told you she will be alright. That is all I can say.” And off she went.

“Do you want to know exactly how Patience is?” Orlando asked quietly. “Of course we do,” Anne answered at once, and Hengist nodded. “Give me fifteen minutes. Perhaps you had better send an express owl to her family now,” Orlando suggested, smiled tensely and walked off. Anne and Hengist made their way to the corner where express owls sat waiting to be of use. An old wizard sat at a desk. “Express owl? Right. Two sickles, any place and getting there in under five minutes,” he said briskly. Anne paid the money and Hengist scribbled a short note and the Woods’ address on a scrap of parchment. The owl took off at once, hooting serenely.

Suddenly Orlando appeared again – but he was not wearing his jeans and T-shirt any longer. He had put on lime-green robes with an emblem of a crossed wand and bone. “I’m Healer Apprentice Bloomer now,” he announced. “That can’t work,” Anne said shocked. Orlando shrugged. “I’m going to see Patience now. I’ll report in a minute.” He strode off confidently towards the ward to their left. It was labelled “Puddlemere Fund Ward”. “Quite appropriate,” Hengist murmured. Anne looked at him questioningly. “The Quidditch club Patience and Oliver like, that’s Puddlemere,” he explained. Anne sighed. “If I had but stopped you going.”

“Anne!” somebody called. Anne turned and her face drained of all colour. Rupert and Joan Wood were striding towards them. “Hengist. Hello,” Rupert said and shook hands with both of them. “How is Patience?” “She will be alright,” Anne repeated what Healer Bancroft had so far revealed. “Where is she?” Rupert asked. “Somewhere in the ward over there, we weren’t allowed in,” Anne explained. Joan took a deep breath. “You come with us, of course,” she decided. She went off to the ward, not looking right or left. Rupert, Anne and Hengist followed. “You wrote it was a Quidditch accident. How can that happen in a Muggle environment?” Rupert enquired.

Hengist blushed. “Well, we found a safe place,” he said awkwardly. “I’ve always feared something like that would happen. But actually I thought it was Oliver who landed himself in hospital.” “You can’t get through here, not unless you’re family,” said a Healer blocking their way. Joan raised her chin in a way that reminded Hengist forcefully of Patience in her most stubborn moods. “We are family. A young girl was brought in, Quidditch accident. Her name’s Patience Wood,” Joan told the Healer.

“Oh. Yes. Come with me. She’s in here.” The Healer opened a door, and another Healer turned around as if caught in an illegal act. Hengist and Anne recognised Orlando immediately. The Healer who had led them to Patience stared at Orlando. “Do I know you?” she asked suspiciously. “Not yet. I’m doing an apprenticeship here,” Orlando explained. The other Healer frowned. “We don’t have apprentices here.” “Oh. Well,” Orlando said lamely. Joan and Anne whispered, then Joan said: “You could have told the Healers you’re Patience’s cousin, you know.” The Healer blinked. “Sorry,” she said and left the others. “Thanks. I’m a friend of your daughter’s. Orlando Bloomer,” Orlie said and took off his borrowed robes.

“How is she?” Joan asked and sat down on the edge of her daughter’s bed. “I didn’t find out,” Orlando confessed. “Well, I can be of help,” said Healer Bancroft cheerfully. She had come up silently. “Miss Wood will be perfectly alright in a day or two. She’s had a concussed head, and some scratches, but that was quite alright. Her sprained ankle and broken wrist were mended at once,” Healer Bancroft informed them. “Oh, what a relief,” Joan breathed. “Yes. I think you know that your daughter is a M…” Healer Bancroft couldn’t finish her sentence, for Rupert jumped up and took her arm. “Can we talk somewhere in private?” he asked. “Sure. Over there, in my office,” Healer Bancroft said puzzled.

When they had left, Anne looked questioningly at Joan who shrugged. “He’s always been very protective of Patience. Fathers and daughters have a special relationship, you know.” Anne didn’t know exactly what Joan Wood meant, but she was sure she did not talk about the kind of special relationship she and her father Frank had. “The only important thing is that Patience will be alright,” Hengist said and shook his head. “I’ll kill Banks.” “It was Patience’s idea,” Anne pointed out fairly. “But he crashed into her deliberately,” Orlando said. Hengist laughed hollowly. “No, I guess he just couldn’t fly well enough for us.”

Rupert entered again. “Healer Bancroft suggests we should take Patience home with us for two weeks. Thank you for taking care of her.” He shook hands with everyone, and Anne, Hengist and Orlando knew they were dismissed. “We will tell you when she wakes up, and you’re invited to come and see her when she’s recovering at home,” Joan told them. “We’ll be there,” Anne promised and the three left quietly.

Joan looked at her husband. “That was very close,” she said. Rupert nodded. “Healer Bancroft says the injuries weren’t as bad as the jinx she apparently received shortly before falling off. It seems that, it being full moon, the jinx doubled in consequences. But they managed to get her well again.” Joan nodded. “Don’t you think she should know?” “Not yet, love. Dumbledore says he will break it to her when it’s time. Until then she is taken care of. They are always watching her,” Rupert told his wife. Joan shook her head. “Look how well they protected her – she’s in hospital!” “She’s in hospital because she wanted to play Quidditch, and nobody can be made responsible for Patience’s flimsy whims,” Rupert said and smiled. “Poor little lamb.”

Peter Pays

It was a particularly fine spring day. The tulips were already in full bloom, and narcissuses were vying with them for the prize of being the most extravagant flowers on the lawns. It was, in short, the perfect day to play truant and instead go for a walk. Patience, deeply bored with her class on Roman everyday life, was trying to convince Hengist and Anne to join her, but this proved to be unusually difficult.

“I’m not going to go for a walk. This is not Hogwarts,” Anne whispered angrily. Hengist grinned broadly and extended his hand towards Anne who paid him the money she owed thanks to her mentioning Hogwarts. “No, but back at school I wouldn’t have dreamed of just playing truant, Anne. I’d have been much too scared. But here – hey, nobody will even notice, with so many people around,” Patience argued. Hengist shrugged. “Sounds okay for me. So, I’m ready to join you,” he said. “I’m not,” Anne said flatly, turned around on her heel and marched off.

Hengist and Patience stared after their friend. “What came over her?” Patience asked bewildered. “I’ve no idea. She did not seem that keen for Roman everyday life at all,” Hengist replied just as puzzled. “Should we go after her?” Patience wanted to know. Hengist considered this for a moment. “No. No, we’re going for our walk. Let’s walk towards the station and back, shall we?” “Oh yes, and we might look if Arsenio’s got some ice-cream ready,” Patience suggested. “Brilliant,” Hengist replied and they set off.

It was really a perfect day for walking through Oxford. The sky was periwinkle blue, the wind was soft and with the scent of newly grown grass and the first spring flowers in it. At the station, less people than usual emerged from the front doors, and Patience and Hengist were already turning to stroll back to university when a voice called: “Good lord, is it you?” Hengist closed his eyes briefly. “Tell me I’m in a nightmare,” he whispered. Patience, who had frozen dead in her tracks, sighed. “The nightmare is all mine.”

A second later, a man with bleached-blond hair and the air of a man thoroughly at ease with himself and his looks turned up, beaming at them. Patience smelled the peppermint on the newcomer’s breath and wrinkled her nose in disgust. How well she remembered that peppermint breath and these groping hands. “Hello, hello, fair lady, I haven’t seen you for some time, and that when I slipped my telephone number into your pocket at Easter last year. You must remember me – Peter Alret,” he added, since Patience had managed to maintain a politely blank face.

“Oh yes, you were the one to throw a family party. Yes,” Patience replied and smiled coolly. “And dear cousin Hengist. What exactly are you doing here?” Peter asked. “That’s a good question, let me ask it as well, for that’s certainly much more interesting,” Hengist said smugly. Peter smiled even more broadly than before. “Oh, that’s right, cousin Hengist. I’m sure you lead a very uneventful life. Whereas I, highly trusted as I am by my employers, am here to do a survey.”

“Survey?” Hengist asked. He started walking again, and Peter joined them. Patience shook her head silently but followed. “Oh yes, I am with a company of surveyors, very good company, of course, very renowned. And they asked me to do a full survey of some property here in the High Street. I’ve been told there are exorbitant prices for property here, in the heart of Oxford.” Peter looked questioningly at his companions. Hengist shrugged. “I don’t know.” “No, cousin Hengist, and the fair lady won’t know about such things. A pretty head doesn’t need to be learned.” Patience was close to erupting were it not for Hengist’s hand pressing her arm in silent warning.

“Anyway,” Peter went on, “my boss, Mr Adair, trusts me in such an extent that I am sent to the most delicate and difficult assignments. This house, I gather, is owned by an eccentric old lady, a Miss Cornelia Donaldson, who is loath to sell her house, but her grandniece has decided Miss Cornelia should not live alone. She’s 94, you see,” Peter said and laughed derisively. “Old dotards are easily cheated, that’s good money for the company.” “Oh, you must really be with a respectable company, with such good business principles,” Patience said sarcastically before Hengist could stop her.

But Peter, indifferent about sarcasm, nodded proudly. “Oh yes, they’re the best for upmarket property.” “Incredible you have such a good job,” Hengist said seriously. “Oh no, aunt Lydia has contacts and placed me there. She always knew I had the potential,” Peter said and smiled at Patience in what he thought a particularly charming way. “Most people do, in the end,” he added. “Yes, I do believe that,” Patience replied. “So where is this house you’re surveying – I mean, exactly?” Hengist asked. “Oh, it’s somewhere around High Street, as I’m informed,” Peter said carelessly.

“You didn’t check?” Patience asked. “Oh no, you see, there are always some locals helping you – and they more often than not feed you important gossip, such as the state of the gardens, or the cleanliness of the inhabitants,” Peter said. “I see,” Patience murmured. She wondered just how long they would have to put off with Peter. “Now, Patience and I were going back to classes at university, you surely understand we have to go,” Hengist said and Patience brightened up. Escape was finally coming. But Peter looked surprised. “I thought we might go to a pub for lunch,” he revealed. “Only if you pay,” Hengist said quickly. It was evident that Peter was not very pleased by this suggestion, but Hengist recklessly went on: “We’re students, and we don’t have the money you must make, being the most trusted employee of a respectable firm of surveyors.”

Peter cleared his throat. “Oh, um,” he stuttered, “um, yes, alright, I’ll pay. Where’s the best pub?” That, thought Hengist, was a good question. He looked around and glimpsed the swinging sign of the Bear and Cock. “Over there, perhaps,” he said indifferently. Patience frowned. “But it’s such a fine day, shouldn’t we rather go to the park?” she suggested. Hengist looked at her questioningly. “We can buy some fish and chips there,” she added. “Lovely,” Hengist decided before Peter could say anything.

Peter looked doubtful about eating in the park. “There’s Cullen’s of Oxford, they’ve got the best chips you can imagine,” Patience said enthusiastically. Hengist grinned. “Yes, they do,” he agreed. Peter cleared his throat again and his fingers went to his tie and began to fumble as if to make it less tight. “I’m not sure,” Peter began, but Hengist cut across him: “Oh, don’t worry, Peter, you’ll love it.”

Hengist and Patience led Peter towards the green-painted stall of the fish-and-chips vendor. Peter paid for their meal, but looked still rather uncertain about eating his portion. Patience grinned. “You eat it with those wooden sticks, see?” she said helpfully. Peter coloured. “I know that,” he snapped. He was definitely feeling completely uneasy by now, and Peter could not place the source of his uneasiness. It was just that he had the feeling that his cousin Hengist whom he had always thought an idiot, and this girl who seemed a simpleton, could be dangerous to him in a way that he could not quite grasp. It send shivers down his spine.

“Yes, I knew you knew, I only thought you looked so lost,” Patience said cheerfully. Hengist nearly choked on his fish. “I need to find the house. What time is it?” Peter asked, turned around his wrist and thereby dropped half his chips on the ground. A crowd of pigeons who had been lurking nearby came with alacrity. One of them even landed on Peter’s shoulder. Vinegar dropped from Peter’s wrist onto his crisp shirt. The pigeon left marks on the shoulder of his formerly immaculate grey suit. “Oops,” Patience commented.

“I… must go. See you at Easter,” Peter said hurriedly and stormed off, abandoning his fish and chips in a nearby dustbin. “Why was he suddenly so frightened?” Patience enquired. “Perhaps he was listening to the wind,” Hengist murmured. “You’ll get into trouble if the wind said something about him being a fool not to fly when it was time to,” Patience said. Hengist shrugged. “No magic done to Peter, or even around Peter, just the wind,” he said. Patience grinned. “Yes, of course. And no Ministry warning as yet.” “No. We were right in front of Sweet Italy when I muttered the spell. They’ll think it was Arsenio or Orlie who did the magic and won’t pursue it,” Hengist said satisfied. “Congrats to that – and to getting rid of Peter,” Patience laughed. “Yes, and the best is,” Hengist said dreamily, “Peter paid!”

Strange characters

Arsenio Crumlum was busy cleaning up his sweet shop which was closed for the day, when the bell rang again. “We’re closed,” he called. “I know, I’m just here to give you your post,” his apprentice said calmly. “And since when do you come through the front door?” Arsenio asked suspiciously. “Well, I, um, I lost my key to the back door,” Orlando confessed. “That you always lose everything, boy. Ts, ts, ts…” Arsenio took the post from Orlie. “And now…”

But he never finished his sentence, for the door flew open to admit two young men who were laughing. “Is this a magical place or are we going to be thrown out for non-existent drunkenness again?” one of them asked. “Since you walked through my door, and thought you were walking through a door…,” Arsenio replied, looking at his new guests. “Oh yes, there is a door, with Sweet Italy written upon it,” the second man confirmed. “Good. Then, yes, this is quite literally a magical place, run by a wizard – myself. Arsenio Crumlum my name, pleased to meet you.” Arsenio bowed.

“Well, sir, we are certainly pleased to have found the one magical shop in all of Oxford. Are there really enough customers for you here?” the first man asked curiously. “Yes. In fact, I have enough work to do for two – here, that’s my apprentice. Orlie, be so good and fetch us some coffee and some cookies, of the spiced ones, you know, yes?” Orlie nodded and retreated quickly. Arsenio ushered his guests to a table. “Sit down, sit down, what did you say your names were?” “We didn’t say our names,” the second man said amused and removed his cap to reveal a bald head.

“Ah yes, and won’t you tell me?” Arsenio asked with a smile. “Of course we will. This is Mike Flatley, and I’m Brian Cullen,” the bald man said. “We’re reporters,” Mike added. “Indeed? With the Daily Prophet?” Arsenio asked. “Yes, that’s right,” Brian nodded. Orlie brought the coffee and cookies. “Yes, thanks, do take up the cleaning now, Orlando,” Arsenio ordered, and his apprentice left. “Is he mute?” Brian asked curiously. “No, just a bit shy with strangers,” Arsenio laughed. “Naturally. Mr Crumlum…,” Mike began, but Arsenio laughed. “No, please, call me Arsenio, yes?” “Alright, Arsenio, then, do you really get a lot of customers here?”

“Oh yes, for sure I do. Is this an interview?” Arsenio asked. Mike shrugged. “Perhaps, but we’re not here officially.” “No, we were sent here to report on this model project of the Ministry and Hogwarts,” Brian added. “Oh, you mean the studies my young friends do? Very strange idea, to study Muggles,” Arsenio said and sipped a bit of coffee. “Your young friends?” Mike asked before Brian could. “Oh yes, they are doing something called Advanced Muggle Studies here at Christ Church College, but they are former Hogwarts students.” Arsenio looked at his new guests. “I think you know them, young men.”

“If they are called Anne, Patience, and Hengist, then yes,” Mike said and grinned. “We knew they would be here, and our editor thought it might be a nice idea to write a series on what young witches and wizards can do after school,” Brian explained their mission. “Hm, then you should talk to them, not to me,” Arsenio said. “Yes, we wanted to, but we don’t know their address, and we were looking for a magical house here, since it was most likely they were there.” Mike shrugged elaborately.

“You are fine reporters, going somewhere without knowing where exactly you are going,” Arsenio said, shaking his head. “Yes, but we hope to find them here.” “Yes, you might be lucky, Brian, but they were here today, and they are not likely to come back, since my shop is closed, strictly speaking.” Brian and Mike exchanged a surprised glance. “Oh, we’re sincerely sorry to have kept you. Can we come back when you’re regularly open, and see if our mutual friends are there?” Mike asked politely. “Yes, you can. Take some chocolates for the way home.” Arsenio handed the two sachets with chocolates and sent them out. He shook his head as he locked the door and decided not to tell Hengist, Anne and Patience about the visit. He thought the two visitors a little dodgy.

Hogmanay

“When are you coming back from the Christmas holidays?” Lisa asked. Patience grimaced. “I’ll be back rather early since I need to finish some essays. It won’t do when I’m at home with my brother around me.” “I’ll come back one day before term starts,” Lisa said and grinned broadly. “I’ve got our house to myself, since my family decided to go to Melbourne and I just don’t want to see Santa in swimming trunks.” The others laughed. “Not bad. I guess I shall have to live through another of Peter’s Christmas receptions,” Hengist said, looking revolted. “Poor Hengist. Cheer up, I’ve got to endure Glenda,” Anne sighed. “So are you both going to join me here?” Patience enquired hopefully.

Anne and Hengist both at each other. “Not before term starts,” Anne said. Hengist nodded. “Yeah. My parents would kill me if I didn’t spend all twelve days of Christmas with them.” Patience raised her eyebrows. “Do I understand correctly that I, Scotswoman that I am, will spend Hogmanay all on my own?” “Scotswoman? You live in Wales!” Hengist burst out. Lisa giggled. “There is some distance between Wales and Scotland.” Patience groaned. “I know. But I was born in Scotland, and surely I’ve spent…” “Okay, okay,” Anne said quickly before Patience could mention Hogwarts. “Now to Hogmanay – what’s that, exactly?” Lisa wanted to know.

“It’s the most important holidays for the Scots,” Patience explained. “It’s New Year’s Eve, right?” Anne enquired. “Yes. Did you know that it’ll bring luck to a house and all its owners when the first person to enter the house after midnight is a tall dark-haired man who carries a piece of coal?” Patience asked her friends excitedly. “Not yet, no,” Hengist slowly replied. The glance he and Anne exchanged should have warned Patience.

 

However, Patience returned to Hogwarts exactly on Hogmanay, after having had to fight for that return against the combined force of the Woods. The first thing she did was to free Bethesda from her cage – and rejoice that, since no Muggle was there, she had been able to Apparate. That had made it very easy to take all her tings back, including her Christmas presents which included a book about the Montrose Magpies, a magically refilling ink bottle and a heavy parchment envelope containing a letter announcing a lucky year for 3, Magpie Lane, and all its inhabitants. A joke, of course, that there was also the information that Anne and Hengist had undertaken everything in their power to secure that luck.

Humming to herself, Patience went into the kitchen and brewed herself a pot of tea. She decided to light a fire and write her essays in the living room. Finally the teapot, a cup and a plate with cookies sat peacefully side by side with books and piles of copies. Patience set to work.

Hours later, it was near midnight, Patience yawned and stretched. The bulk of the work was done. The fire had burned low, but it still glowed nicely and reassuringly. Bethesda was curled up on a cushion to Patience’s left. “It’s Hogmanay, and I’m all alone here. All on my own,” Patience said to the empty room. But although photos decorated the walls, none of them answered. After all, this was a Muggle house. No talking pictures, no ghosts, no singing armours. Although Patience was not very unhappy about the last: The Hogwarts armours had always mixed up the songs.

A glance at her watch showed Patience that in but a minute a new year would begin. She sighed. As usual she wished for some days outside tome, but the seconds ticked on mercilessly. There was no respite, no pause. Time never ever stopped. The hands on the watch met in the one second tat was two years at once, then it was over. “Happy New Year,” Patience whispered. She looked out of the window. The family next door were having a party, obviously. But otherwise the new year looked not very spectacular, in fact it seemed to be rather sleepy.

Patience decided to take the teapot, cup and plate into the kitchen and go to bed. The writing things could stay where they were. Tomorrow Patience would go on working. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Patience jumped. Who should come here at this time of night? What was there to do? She decided to have her wand at the ready and went to the door. Making sure the chain was in place, she opened the door.

“Don’t be ridiculous, let me in, the neighbours are staring over,” her unexpected guest said harshly. Totally surprised, Patience withdrew the chain and let the visitor enter. “Um… Happy New Year,” she said. „The same to you. Now, what is the emergency?” the visitor asked. “Emergency?” Patience repeated. “Professor Dicket said someone was needed here at one, and that coal was needed – of course, Dicket preferred to stay at his party,” she was told. Now it dawned on her. “Oh my god,” she said and sat down on the nearest chair.

“Does that mean there is no emergency?” “No sir. No,” Patience said. suddenly she felt he irresistible urge to laugh. “I don’t exactly think that funny!” her guest stated enraged. “Professor Snape, I am sincerely sorry… Did you really bring a piece of coal?” Patience asked. Instead of answering, Snape held out his hand and showed a black piece of coal. To his shock and surprise, he found himself embraced. “Thank you!” Patience beamed at him. Snape stepped back and eyed the girl as if she was a wild dragon waiting to eat him. “What for?” he enquired.

“It’s Hogmanay, and you’ve just managed to secure us here in Magpie Lane a year full of luck,” Patience explained. Snape did not understand a word. “If I wanted to have nonsense told to me, I’d give your brother the chance to tell me how he wants to beat Slytherin!” Patience decided to ignore that. “It’s a Scottish tradition, Professor. If the first person to enter a house after midnight on new year’s Eve is a dark-haired man with a piece of coal, all the house’s inhabitants will have a lucky year.” Snape shook his head. “So where are your friends? The show is over, I’m leaving.” “I’m alone here – no show,” Patience replied truthfully.

Snape took a deep breath. “Nobody but you and me knows about this?” he asked. Patience bit her lip. “Miss wood?” “I guess Emerson knows. And he…” Patience looked decidedly uneasy. It did not help that Snape stared at her as if trying to read her mind. “And?” he prompted. “I told Anne and Hengist about Hogmanay, and they… They might have arranged this meeting,” Patience told the professor. “Whoever had the abysmal idea of letting you stay together? I wonder the whole town was no extinguished so far,” Snape said icily. “This is definitely not my idea. Anyway – you’re my guest. Can I offer you anything?” Patience asked, forcing herself to stay calm.

“Nice manners,” Snape commented. “I learned everything from you,” Patience shot back. Snape, remembering the embarrassing episode of teaching the Magpies manners, decided that a retreat was the wisest option. “Good to know there is no emergency. Happy New Year – and lock the door now,” Snape advised Patience. A second before he Disapparated, he tossed the coal towards her. Patience looked at the egg-shaped coal and grinned. “Aye, happy Hogmanay!”

Submarine in Trouble

Hengist had long ago sneaked into the bathroom. At last! He was to leave all his cares and worries behind and enjoy a nice bath for an hour or two. He wasn’t the type for a rubber duck but he had a play submarine with which he liked to share the bathing tub every now and then. For no important reason it was bright red and his dearest secret. As silently as possible he produced the needed sounds to pretend that his was a fully functional submarine.

“Such a beautiful day for a walk! Lieutenant, we’ll go to the surface, prepare everything! – Ay ay, captain! Engine room, make ready to surface! Everything ready, captain! – Very good, very good, surface! – Engine room, surface!” He said to himself. And slowly he made the submarine go up to the surface. Before it reached it he looked around to make sure that he was really alone. No one was there except himself.

“Captain we will have reached the surface in 30 seconds. – Very good, lieutenant! I’m ready for a stroll. Let’s find out who else is travelling this place and who knows we might catch a fish or two. – Yes, sir!” The submarine reached the surface. “Why does this hatch always has to be stuck. – May I, sir? – Yes, go ahead! – After you, sir!” Indeed the lieutenant had been able to open the hatch without difficulties. “It’s just like opening a water tap, sir. – Water! Pah! Always water, do you know what I think the problem with our oceans is, lieutenant? Too much water!” Hengist grinned to himself. ‘And the problem with too much water is that it is wet…’

The captain went through the hatch and stepped on top of the submarine. “Ah! Fish.” He observed as he stepped onto one specimen. “Tell cook to collect them. That will make a nice change. – Ay ay, captain!” And so the lieutenant vanished and the captain had all the space left for his contemplations. His gaze went far and almost hit the horizon. He had dearly wished for himself to catch a glimpse of land but as he had known before, they were in the middle of the ocean and though water was endless there there was a lack of land.

As he gazed into the distance he noticed a ship. “Lieutenant!” He called to the man who had returned with the cook. “Yes, sir?” “What is that over there?” The captain asked pointing at the horizon and a tiny ship which could be seen there. The lieutenant took the binoculars and looked through them. “A ship, sir.” “Yes, I can see that for myself!” The captain snapped and grabbed the binoculars and by doing so dragging the lieutenant to a very uncomfortable position.

“This is the enemy!” The captain… “Hengist, I’ll come in for a second!” “No!” The voice of the captain shouted. But Lisa didn’t mind. She opened the door and placed herself in front of the mirror from where she could watch Hengist in the tub. “With whom were you talking. I thought you had taken the telephone with you? Or are you hiding someone under the surface. She turned and faced Hengist now who blushed heavily. Indeed he was hiding someone under the surface, very many someones, the complete crew of a submarine. Think of the poor captain. His feet would be wet now and not only them.

Lisa placed herself on the edge of the tub. “Let’s see.” She cooed and her hand went straight into the water. Hengist held the submarine fast. Lisa pulled out the plug. “NO!” Hengist screamed and made such a fuss that Lisa was just as wet as himself – leave alone the carpet. “What have you done! I will have to change my clothes now! And look this has been Kashmir and now its waste!” Lisa shouted. Hengist placed his foot on the hole to prevent the water from leaving his tub.

“Or did you do that on purpose?” Lisa cooed. “GIRLS!” Hengist called at this point. “I mean, now that I am wet I could join you in your tub, what do you say?” She got rid of her pullover. “GIRLS!” Hengist now called more urgently than ever. “We can’t go in there!” Anne protested and Patience didn’t feel too good about opening the door either. “But how can we get Lisa out?” Patience wanted to know. “Her telephone, she always runs to answer her telephone!” Anne replied.

“Lisa, your telephone!” Patience called. Lisa stopped for a moment. “I can’t hear it!” She replied. “GIRLS!!!” Hengist called again. “Where is her damn telephone number?” Anne asked. Patience grabbed the normal telephone. “She has saved it somewhere on this. What did Hengist say? Double cross seven double cross.” They listened but no telephone rang at least not Lisa’s. “Star double cross seven double cross.” Patience whispered and typed. Lisa’s telephone didn’t ring. “GIRLS!!!!!!!” Hengist called desperately and helplessly.

“Leave it to me!” Anne said, took out her wand whispered a spell and hooray made Lisa’s phone ring. “Was that my telephone?” She asked stepping out of the bathroom. It rang again. She went to her room. “Telephone!” Patience whispered. Anne had been hiding the object behind her back. She hurried into the kitchen and returned without it. The next to leave the bathroom was Hengist. He was all red and close to a nervous breakdown. He had wrapped himself in two towels and wore a bathrobe.

“Thank you girls, but you could have hurried up!” He said with what was left of his strength. “I’ll go and dress myself!” He announced, went to his room and locked the door. “I will have that damn door fixed!” Patience said and pointed with her wand at the door. “Reparo!” She said. Anne tried to lock the door. “Perfect!” She told her friend. “Good one problem less!” “Will we prepare tea? Emerson must be here any minute now?” Anne wanted to know. Patience checked her watch. “Yes, five minutes after any use of magic. He’ll be right in time for tea!” She agreed.

Hengist joined them in the kitchen. “Did you use magic?” He asked when he saw the additional plate on the table. “I thought you had called her on the phone…” “We did.” Patience replied. “Magically.” Anne added. “We couldn’t remember which buttons to press.” Patience admitted. “But that’s so easy!” Hengist scolded them. “Star star seven double cross double cross, honestly, I don’t know why you two can’t remember!” “Maybe because we did not grow up with this silly stuff and hardly have anyone who we can call.” Anne reminded her friend.

“If you didn’t remember why didn’t you just open the door and dragged her out.” Hengist told them. “Because we didn’t want to interfere with your privacy!” Patience explained. “Honestly girls, I rather want you to see me naked than Lisa!” “Unfortunately we were not too keen on seeing you naked.” Anne revealed. “Anyway, I need something to eat now. Are there still frozen pizzas?” He opened the door of the freezer. “What’s the telephone doing in here?” He asked, took out a pizza and closed the door again. “ANNE!” Patience exclaimed. “What! I didn’t know where to hide it. Lisa never looks into the freezer!” Anne took the telephone out and placed it on the table.

‘Plop’ “Hello Emerson!” Patience greeted the professor. “Hello professor!” Hengist said pushing his pizza into the oven. “Guilty.” Anne said. “There was no other way, we had to use magic!” Emerson sighed. “Well, my dears, then tell me what muggle catastrophe made it necessary for you to use magic twice though you are strictly forbidden to do so!” And so the Malignant Magpies spent a pleasant afternoon with their professor and some nice cups of tea.

Lisa? Well, when she found out that nobody was holding the line she started to call her friend to ask if it was her. And since young ladies always find a piece of news or two to discuss she was not to interfere with our friends again that day.

The Repeta-Charm

“You wouldn’t believe it but there are things we didn’t even get to know at Hogwarts,” Anne said thoughtfully one evening. Lisa was in her own room, busy crying her eyes out, and as she had screamed at the Magpies to leave her alone they had given up knocking at her door and ask if they could help her. “What happened to her, anyway?” Patience asked, totally unconnected to Anne’s remark, but Anne only grinned. “Her latest guy left the university – and Lisa,” she said dryly. “Aha. And now what is it we didn’t even get to know at Hogwarts?” Hengist asked, grabbing a handful of peanuts. “I have here a book of useful hexes and curses, harmless all of them, only slightly embarrassing,” Anne told her friends, lifting the book she had been reading for the last days. “The complete Sherlock Holmes?” Patience read, grinning. Anne turned the book around. “What? Oh, no, I just thought it was wiser to put this cover over the real one – not to mention that the cover photo of the real book is moving.” Anne ripped away the fake cover and showed a vivid green book with a photo of a badly-hexed wizard, who was running from one corner to the other, trying to avoid further hexes. “Where did you get that?” Patience enquired. “By owl post, of course. I love it to order books at Diagon Alley!” “Really? Flourish and Blotts have made it possible to order books?” “Yes. Never mind that now, Patience, here is a curse we just need to try.” Anne beckoned her friends over. Hengist and Patience took station behind Anne and read what Anne showed them. “Great!” Hengist exclaimed. “Let’s do that tomorrow!” “To whom?” Patience wanted to know. Both Hengist and Anne looked at her as if she had gone mad. “Roland Banks!” they answered in one voice.

 

Anne had grudgingly agreed that Hengist should perform the hex. Patience, who had longed to do it, had been told she did far too much magic anyway (from making breakfast in the morning with a flick of her wand to copying whole books in the library) and had had to give way. A history class was the best moment to do it. Roland loved military history, and bored his fellow students to death with exact descriptions of historical battles. “Okay, then, let’s have a bit of fun,” Hengist murmured ten minutes into the class. Under the table he pointed his wand at Roland and murmured “I completely agree Repeta!” Patience giggled. It was the perfect moment. Roland had just raised his hand. The professor, talking about the medieval crusades, had just said that the theory of the East Roman Empire having fallen in just one day (which Roland had been very proud to tell the class about two minutes earlier) was rubbish. “Yes, Mr Banks?” he now asked, already sounding unnerved. Roland put down his hand: “I completely agree.” Whispers arose in the class and the professor looked taken aback. “Well, thank you, Mr Banks, good to know I’ve convinced you. Let us go on. We haven’t been tackling the diplomatic crusades of Emperor Frederick II., have we?” Sighing, the class took out the copied sheets of sources about Frederick II. “This crusade was exactly what the church loathed,” the professor began when he spotted Roland’s hand raised once more. “Yes?” he asked. Roland again said, “I completely agree.” By now the blonde boy looked furious. He had a very good idea what had happened, if not about the exact spell. “Thank you, Mr Banks, I must ask you, though, to give either relevant questions or facts or else not to interrupt me again.” Patience bent over her sources to hide her laughter. Hengist managed to keep his face straight and even answer Roland’s furious glances with indifferently raised eyebrows. But after class Roland rounded on them: “I COMPLETELY AGREE!” he roared. Patience grinned. “Ah yes? To what?” she asked coolly. “I COMPLETELY AGREE!” Roland retorted. Hengist nodded. “We caught that the first time. Yet we do not know to what you agree. Let me see… Hey, there’s Anne!” Anne came hurrying over, hoping to see her share of the fun. “Anne, we just want to find out to what Roland here agrees. Is it that you are a little stupid?” “I completely agree,” Roland hissed, his eyes narrowing dangerously. Patience noticed he was fumbling in his pocket – his back pocket. “Tut tut, someone doesn’t care about elementary wand safety,” she whispered. Hengist grinned. “Well, he has no buttocks anyway so there won’t be a great loss!” Roland glared at them. “Let me try,” Anne begged. “Roland, you’re a complete idiot and all Slytherins are idiots as well.” Patience burst into laughter as Roland rounded on Anne, yelling: “I COMPLETELY AGREE!” But suddenly she spotted a man leaning against the wall. “Having fun like little children, are we?” he asked sharply. “I don’t believe it!” “Emerson,” Patience said shocked. “Yes, little children, it’s daddy,” Emerson said, strolling over. His eyes were blazing with fury. “Not that this is the most serious breech of your promise so far, having performed a spell even Muggles cannot ignore. Undo it at once!” “I completely agree,” Roland said smugly. Dicket whirled around to him. “Actually this state is nice. But undo it.” Hengist did as he was ordered. “Okay. Follow me.” Emerson walked briskly in front of the four students into an empty classroom. “I will not again tell you all over what you have to do or that there is no house rivalry around here. You know all that and choose to ignore it. Fine. But one thing I must say: If I had the means of giving you detention you would have earned a lifetime of it!” Roland grinned. “You as well, Mr Banks, for I feel that you are provoking well-deserved reactions,” Dicket told him coldly. The smile faded from Banks’ face. “And what am I going to do with you?” Dicket asked, walking to the window and peering out. The Magpies exchanged worried glances. “I am not calling you back, no. But I am here to confiscate your wands for two weeks. Hand them to me, please.” “What?!” Patience asked. “You heard me alright, Patience. Your wand.” “No, no, I need it,” she protested. Emerson smiled lopsidedly. “I see you do. That’s why I think it useful for you to be without it for two weeks.” Shocked, the Magpies handed over their wands. “And you, Mr Banks,” Dicket addressed the former Slytherin. Roland scowled but had no choice but to surrender his wand. “Very well, then. See you in two weeks.” With these words, Emerson disapparated. “Oh, really, he can talk,” Anne muttered. “It’s so typical for him to say something about not using magic and then disapparating!” Hengist furiously added. “Well, I thank you very much,” snapped Roland. ”How shall I live without magic, can you tell me that?” Patience turned to him and crossed her arms in front of her chest. ”Maybe in behaving like a muggle?” she asked acidly. Roland was lost for words and stormed out of the room. Hengist grinned. “I’m not so much at a loss as you are, though I confess I will miss not having to wash up the muggle way!” “I’m really glad we’ve got you, our muggle expert,” Patience sighed.

 

It turned out to be quite complicated even with Hengist to live the muggle way. As Hengist had never taken much care of learning how to do housework the muggle way ever since he had discovered he could do things by magic much faster and easier, he wasn’t such an expert as Anne and Patience had hoped for. The very first morning without wands proved to be a struggle. Patience, used to prepare breakfast with some waves of her wand, discovered that it took much more time to do it the muggle way – which also meant the Magpies were a bit later than usual on their way to college. “Did you switch off the light in the kitchen?” Anne enquired. Patience shrugged. “Lisa wasn’t up yet, she will switch it off if I forgot.” “As if Lisa would do something useful,” Hengist murmured crossly. He disliked burned toast very much, and this morning the toast had been very dark indeed. It spoilt the day, Hengist thought. The rest of the day didn’t look much better. Not only was it much more work writing out passages instead of copying them simply by magic, it was also a real effort getting to know how the copy machines worked. Patience gave up after trying it five times unsuccessfully. Anne tried a little longer and managed at last to copy a single sheet – and then the copy machine told her to fill in new colour. “And how shall I do that?” Anne asked the machine angrily, but as it did not answer, she decided to leave it at that. Only Hengist came home with all the things he needed for doing his essay for next week. Patience was fuming. “I do not enter the kitchen again without my wand,” she declared mutinously. Anne stared at her. “What? You’re not going to cook? But it’s your turn!” “Order a pizza if you want to eat,” Patience retorted. “I’ll cook, that will save money, my dears,” Hengist calmly said and got up. “How did you get all your material? I will need to do another trip to the library tomorrow – and the day after as well, if it doesn’t work with those damned muggle copy machines!” Patience exclaimed. ”I’ll show you tomorrow, both of you, and then we’ll try and manage and not fret about having lost our wands,” Hengist resolved. He looked sternly at his friends. “No sulking or longing or sighing. This is the only way we’re really going to do Muggle Studies.” “You can talk,” Anne whispered, but Hengist chose to ignore her.

 

After only a few days Hengist wished he had never taken the responsibility for their muggle life. For him most things were quite usual, but for Patience and Anne he even had to explain how to refill ink into their pens. Nothing worked as well as it had before, and Lisa began to wonder. “Exams coming up,” Anne shortly said when Lisa asked why they weren’t as fast in doing the housework as usual. This explanation was obviously enough for Lisa, who proved to be a much better cook than any of the Magpies was – at least if left on their own without magic.

The Apprentice - as not written by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

“At last Arsenio the old wizard has left. And now I want to try his spells. I remember them well, and it would be a surprise if I wasn’t able to do the things he had done.” Orlando mused. “Fly, fly little bowl that you can make a lot of dough which will soon bake and by that after some time become a cake!” Orlando swung his wand and watched the bowl fly by ready to be the home of the ingredients.

“Come, come old master whisk, stir, stir and beat the egg, mix it with sugar, butter and cream. And finally make it like my dream. Add salt and baking powder, a little citrus and vanilla.” The ingredients came flying by as they were called for. The whisk was stirring and mixing frantically.

“Fly, fly little bowl that you can make a lot of dough which will soon bake and by that after some time become a cake!” The whisk stirred vigorously and some of the dough which was increasing in mass spilt on the floor. It spilt on the wall. It spilt on Orlando and anything present. The ingredients kept on flying by and filled the bowl until it was flowing over. More and more dough dropped and then poured on the floor.

“Stop, stop little bowl. Stop to make another dough. There is enough that I can bake. There is no need for yet another cake!” Orlando swung his want but nothing happened except that more and more dough was produced and nothing intended to stop. “Help, help I forgot the word!” Orlando saved himself onto a chair – or at least he thought it to be a chair for he couldn’t make out any clear shape since the object was covered with a thick layer of dough.

“Oh the word that in the end stops this sort of event. But still more dough will be produced and there is no way that it ever will be used! It pours and pours and covers all.” Orlando waved his wand frantically but nothing changed and indeed it seemed that the bowl produced even more dough with every word that he spoke.

“I will catch you!” Orlando jumped from the chair. The layer of dough on the floor was by then knee-deep and it was very hard for him to walk leave alone walk fast. “I cannot let you go on. I will catch you and put an end to your doings!” Orlando jumped after the bowl which was careful to evade these attacks.

“Oh you thing from hell, do you want to turn the whole house into a cake. The dough is dripping, running, pouring over everything you can have here. You damned bowl that doesn’t want to hear. Almost ball made of metal stop and stand still!” Nothing Orlando did helped or at least put him into a better position. The situation worsened every second. And if it wasn’t for a miracle there would be no more situation in a couple of minutes but only a cake.

“Let me see I’ll take a knife and cut you down to a thousand pieces! Then no more dough you can keep and the rest of you I’ll bury deep! Stop, stop just a min and I’ll cut you into slices thin!” Orlando had taken the biggest knife and tried to attack the bowl which was more complicated than he had at first thought. Orlando hid and waited for the bowl to come closer again.

“Look, here it comes full and stirring slow and inert. I will catch you, wait, you bowl, I’ll cut you down. A sharp cut made you break in two. Now there is still hope and I can ones again breathe free!” Orlando took a short break watching the two pieces of the bowl moving on the floor. He really thought it was over and some thoughts were even dedicated to the solving of the dirt-problem. However, it was much too early for such thoughts.

“No, no both the pieces in a hurry each becoming a new bowl rise up and begin to stir more dough. Help, help all the ghosts on earth, heaven and hell!” Orlando watched the scene not knowing what he could do at that moment. The bowls were even faster than the old one had been and the dough began pouring out of them again. Orlando hoped that Arsenio would either return at that very moment or was never to return again.

“And they stir as if there was no other things than stirring. Pouring dough over every object of the furniture. Arsenio hear me calling, help, help or else the world will drown in dough. He comes, the need is great, master, the spells I’ve started cannot be undone!” Orlando was literally drowning in the masses of dough and Arsenio was short of being drowned himself.

“To the shelf, bowl and bowl. What did you think to obey another did you forget who is your only master!” Arsenio shouted and the two bowls returned to the shelf. Arsenio looked darkly at his apprentice. “I’m sorry sir!” Orlando whispered. “And so am I…” Arsenio shouted. “…to have taken you into my services!” Arsenio looked around the room. The dough was dripping from the shelves. If Orlando fell now he would have to drown and Arsenio certainly wouldn’t have helped him.

“You’ll clean all this mess, now! And if I find another drop of dough anywhere around here…” Arsenio turned to leave. Orlando pulled out his wand – out of the dough. “Accio wand!” Arsenio commanded and Orlando’s wand flew away accordingly. “The muggle way!” Arsenio added and wasn’t to be seen again that day.

Orlando was quite busy cleaning the room and the objects in it. He flushed the dough down the toilet hoping to never see it again. And hoping that he wouldn’t flush anything necessary down with it. When the dough had gone he started cleaning with a mop and when he had done so he washed the furniture. When he had finished all that he washed the dishes and cutlery. Of course, he had cleaned himself, too.

In the evening he sat in the shop drinking a hot chocolate. “See, I told you it would still be open.” Patience announced and opened the door to the shop. “Oh, hello Orlando! Arsenio not around?” She asked as Anne and Hengist poured in after her. “No!” Orlando replied. “Did you quarrel?” Hengist wanted to know. “Is that dough on your nose?” Anne asked. Orlando rubbed it. “Yes, sort of.” “It’s sort of dough? I think we should have something to eat somewhere else…” Anne suggested. “No, we sort of quarrelled…” And Orlando told the whole story to the Malignant Magpies.

“I don’t think he will fire you!” Anne said. “I mean, it wasn’t the first time you produced a mess…” She got kicked underneath the table and kept quiet. “He really likes you and I think when I had seen so much dough in my place I would have shouted at you even worse!” Patience assured him. “But it doesn’t mean that I would hate you!” “You know how nice Arsenio is. Just remember how kind he is to anyone who enters this shop and he doesn’t know these people!” Hengist added.

Orlando nodded. “I’ll fetch you a cup of hot chocolate.” He announced and left. “Maybe Arsenio would like him if he didn’t know him.” Anne threw in. She withdrew her feet before she could be kicked. “Can’t you say anything nice to him!” Patience snapped. Anne got up. “Where are you going?” Hengist wanted to know. “Say something nice to Orlando.” She declared.

The kitchen looked as clean as ever. “Hey Anne, are you that desperate for your hot chocolate?” Orlando said. “You know, Orlando, I think he wouldn’t have let you stay here alone if he had intended to fire you. And look at this place, it’s clean!” She took up one of the bowls causing some dough to drip from its bottom. “…well, almost.” She put it back. “Anyway, you’re a much bigger help than…” Anne had had intended to continue into another direction but decided against it. “…than anyone ever could be.” She gave Orlando a smile. “I must go back…” She approached the door. “Anne! Thank you!” Orlando replied. “You’re welcome!” Anne told him.

When he returned to our three friends he seemed to feel quite positive. “Hey, careful, you don’t wanna break those cups!” Patience warned him as he entered the room balancing a tablet with four cups on only the inner side of his hand. “It can’t break because I have put a sticking charm to the cups. They cannot possibly fall down. Look!” And with uttering the last word he turned the tablet around.

“Pity you didn’t put a sticking charm to the hot chocolate…” Hengist whispered as Orlando swung a broom to undo the mess. “I’m just glad Arsenio didn’t see this –you won’t tell him, will you?” Orlando looked at the three. Anne stared at her new cup of hot chocolate. “Anne?” Orlando asked. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening…” She lied. “Patience?” He tried his luck with the next. Patience looked at Hengist. Hengist rose and cleared his throat. “You know, Orlando, you seem to be a bit…clumsy.” He started. At this moment Anne rose without clearing her throat. “Look Orlando, if you stay here this whole place might fall apart before long and you’ll stand in the middle of the ruins.” “ANNE!” Patience interrupted her.

“But that’s what we’ve been trying to say – or rather avoid saying.” Anne defended herself. Orlando was on the verge of tears. “Don’t take it personally. You’re perfectly alright in your own way. The only thing we’re saying is that you should look for another job.” She went on. “Well, maybe we wouldn’t put it as drastic as Anne.” Patience intervened. “Well then, what would you say?” It was Anne not Orlando who posed this question. Hengist and Patience remained silent.

After a while Patience raised her voice. “You should simply slow down a bit. You try to do your best but you’re so eager to do so that you mess it all up.” “Yes, that’s exactly how I would have put it.” Hengist agreed. Orlando glanced over to Anne. “Yes, I should have put it like that.” She gave in. Orlando smiled and hugged his three friends.

Challenges

A lovely sunny afternoon in May found the Magpies on a bench in the pedestrian precinct, talking about letters they had got that very day.

“I don’t know why we need to do that. I mean, this whole time we’re staying here is our period of practical instruction, isn’t it?” Anne asked for about the hundredth time.

Patience nodded fervently. “And I don’t even know what they mean, a training or period of practical instruction in a job useful for your studies.”

Hengist sighed. “I see, girls, but that’s the rule. You need to do that or it’s good-bye final exams,” he reminded his friends sternly.

Anne shook her head. “I don’t want to do this,” she declared.

Hengist was just about to begin another lecture on the need to do a job training, when he spotted a familiar figure walking towards them.

“By the pricking of my thumbs, something Dicket this way comes,” he joked.

“Hello, Magpies, I see you’ve got your letters,” Emerson greeted them and sat down between Anne and Patience.

“Yes, we did. Emerson, do we have to do that training?” Patience asked in her most pleading voice.

At Hogwarts it had always worked: ‘Professor Flitwick, I really couldn’t do the essay, there was so much to do and Gryffindor won the last match, you see. Professor Flitwick, can’t you explain again? It’s so difficult!’ But it did not work with Emerson Dicket.

“Patience, this is an Oxford rule, and Hogwarts agreed to accept the rules. It would be very hard to explain the fact that only some did not have to do job trainings when everyone is excepted to do at least one. So, think about where you want to work.”

Hengist grinned. “I’d work with the Gaya.”

“The what?” Dicket looked questioningly at the boy.

“Gaya. Gay Association. They said they’d take me for the telephone service,” Hengist explained.

Anne glared at him: “You already looked for a place!”

“Why, yes. I knew what was to come, having talked with Simon about it.”

Neither Anne nor Patience commented on the new name, but they were sure to ask later on for Simon, as Hengist was well aware.

“And you, Patience?” Emerson enquired.

Patience frowned. “I think I’d prefer to work with Mr Knox to anything else,” she said slowly. “Emerson – it doesn’t have to be a muggle, does it?”

Dicket took a deep breath. “I’m not sure. I have to talk to Dumbledore about that,” he confessed. “But keep Knox in mind.”

“Then I’ll work with Arsenio!” Anne exclaimed, laughing.

Dicket nodded. “You wait here, I’ll be back soon,” he said and disapparated.

Fortunately there was no muggle around.

“And he told us off for using magic!” Anne snorted.

Dicket was true to his word and came back barely an hour later.

“Dumbledore says it’s okay – after all you had already two weeks without magic, and he does not want to punish you. I will, well, forge the necessary forms for you, girls,” Dicket promised. “I don’t assume either of your future bosses has an idea of what a job training for Oxford means.” He fumbled for a bit of parchment and his quill. “Tell me again, who’s responsible and where do you want to work?”

“Gaya Oxford,” Hengist began. “And the one in charge is Simon Carmichael. He’s got the forms, Emerson.”

Emerson nodded. “Anne?”

“Oh, I need to ask first but I think there’ll be no problem. Arsenio Crumlum, he owns the Sweet Italy over in High Street.”

“Well, then ask him soon and write to me if it works. Patience?”

“I need to ask, too, but it’s the apothecary of Vicesimus Knox in Diagon Alley,” Patience said, grinning.

“Interesting choices, my dears. Contact me if you’ve got any problems. The training should start next week. Three weeks, and you’ll be back to your usual studies. Oh, and you’ll have to write an essay about your experiences – for me.” Emerson pocketed his notes and smiled. “I’ll go now. Have a nice day!”

This time he strolled away and then abruptly vanished into thin air, not noticed by anyone except the Magpies.

The Hot Water Bottle Mystery

“What did the doctor say?” Patience asked when Hengist and Anne returned to their flat in Oxford. “Gastroenteritis!” Hengist replied. “What entities?” Patience wanted to know. “No, not entities, but enteritis, gastroenteritis – it’s another word for diarrhoea.” Hengist explained. “He said it would be over within three days.” Anne added and headed for her bed. “Is there anything you want?” Patience tried. “Sleep!” Anne replied and closed the door behind her.

“I’m calling my mum…” Hengist started. “…she will know what we can do for Anne!” He did as he had told. Patience waited next to him and only caught what Hengist said. “Hi mum, no, it’s urgent this time…no, nothing has happened…well, I mean Anne is ill…gastroenteritis…that’s diarrhoea, mum…sleeping…nice and warm…okay…no…I don’t know, wait a sec…Patience, do we have a hot water bottle?” Patience frowned. “Well, we do have hot water and we do have bottles…” “Just forget it, Patience, will you…mum, I fear we will have to buy one…where…oh, I see, okay…okay…okay…okay…okay…thank you mum…yes…bye…bye mum…bye…bye!” He hung up the phone and turned towards Patience.

“Do you think it was a wise idea to leave her alone?” Patience wanted to know. “She’s ill, Patience and we won’t be away more than half an hour! And besides, she was asleep.” Hengist replied. “But I still don’t get why we’re heading for the drugstore when I think we should go to the average store…” “Beverage…” Hengist corrected her.

“And then we went to a drug store though it is a hot water bottle!” Patience explained to Anne. “But that’s not all…here read this!” Patience handed over the bottle to which a tiny piece of paper was attached. The text on it went as follows:

(GB) flashy hot water bottles are manufactured in Germany, they have been tasted and are monitored by the MOT and comply with the British Standard. Flashy hot water bottles are steamless, they are resistant to extremes of temperature, they can be seam-sterilised for use in clinics and hospitals and are leak-proof when used correctly.

Note. When filling the hot water bottle, please hold at the neck in an upright position. Fill carefully with hot water until two-thirds full. Allow some of the air to escape and then turn the screw top until tight. Only use original flashy screw tops and check regularly for damage or leaks. If you have bought a hot water bottle with a fabric cover, this can be removed and washed according to the instructions of the fable.

Warning. Hot water bottles can cause burns. Avoid direct contact with the skin. For safety reasons. DO NOT USE HOT WATER. Even hot tap water can scald. Do not heat in the microwave oven. Parental supervision is always advised when hot water bottles are given to children. To maintain a flashy hot water bottle, avoid contact with surfaces, oil, grease and direct sunshine. Please do not overfill the hot water bottle and do not place heavy objects on it when full.

“If that isn’t enlightening. Do you reckon those taste good?” Anne asked examining the bottle. “Well, we would appreciate it if you told us when you were hungry!” Patience replied. “Something I don’t get is why it is leak-proof, shouldn’t it be un-leak-proof?” She went on. “Well, I hope it is!” Anne threw in. “Girls, leak-proof means that it is un-leak-proof.” He explained. “Then why isn’t it called un-leak-proof?” Hengist sighed. He had long given up.

“I certainly want to see when you fill it hold at the neck in an upright position how are you supposed to fill it?” Anne imitated the movement holding the hot water bottle to her neck and sitting as straight as possible while her spare hand moved upwards imitating the filling process. “Impossible!” She decided. Hengist shook his head. “What? What’s wrong now?” Patience wanted to know. “You’re not supposed to hold the bottle to your own neck…” “To somebody else’s neck then…” “No! By its neck.” Patience and Anne nodded slowly.

After a short pause Patience went on. “But it doesn’t make sense. This thing is called a hot water bottle and besides its being no bottle at all you’re not meant to fill it with hot water either.” Patience examined the strange thing. “Then again it makes sense that we went to a drugstore to get it, since it is no bottle…” “Girls, why don’t I go and fill it with warm water?” Hengist took the bottle but Patience jumped up at the same moment. “Wait, I’ll go and close the curtains first!” “Why would you?” Hengist wanted to know. “It said avoid contact to direct sunshine.” Patience explained. Hengist left the room shaking his head heavily and muttering. “Save it, Patience.”

After a minute or so he returned and handed the hot water bottle over to Anne. “Now it goes where the sun seldom shines.” She lifted the cover and placed it on her stomach. “Do you feel better now?” Patience asked. “Yes, only, I’m terribly tired.” She yawned and cuddled into her cover. “You know, it’s great to have two friends like you who take me to the doctor, nurse me and make me laugh when I’m ill.” She whispered and fell asleep.

At the Gaya

My first day at the telephone centre of Gaya Oxford was nothing special. I was shown around, then had to fetch coffee and sandwiches for everyone. Seems they always let the trainees do that, until they trust them to do real work. In my case I had three days of dull coffee-fetching until I was allowed to do my first telephone call. The one on the other end seemed to be very frightened, a young boy who was wondering about his sexual orientation. As lawyers and doctors I must not talk about what I heard, but let me tell you, I’m glad I never had such severe doubts. It seemed to please Simon Carmichael, though, and from then on I was at the phone line for three hours in the morning and three in the afternoon. The rest of the work was more like typing and reading letters. We also had to organize events. There was a poetry reading Simon and I went to one evening, and it was wonderful. Of course I had no chance to do magic, but, Emerson, there is a certain magic in helping people as well as in flicking your wand. Maybe there is a way to combine that? However, the second week passed rather pleasantly, until we had a case that was really difficult. Simon asked me to help him. There was a professor who harassed a young student because this student openly said he was a gay. The student, not the professor. But the professor, very conservative, thought he needed to get rid of his student and so began to mob him. The student asked Gaya for help, and help we did. We arranged a meeting between professor and student, but it was no help at all. We talked to them both separately. That was better. We persuaded the professor to ignore the student. You might think this was too little, but it was the best we could agree on. Well, Emerson, I think it was a good experience, but I feel I belong into the magical world. So, if this was a test for a job – no, I don’t want to do this.

Emerson frowned slightly at Hengist’s report. So the boy had found people that were like him – but never had doubts? He couldn’t believe it, thinking about the way Hengist and Patience and Anne had run about holding hands, a trio inseparable. Dicket sighed. Inseparable indeed! There was no telling what might happen once they were apart – most likely they would simply try to get back to each other. Dicket took the next essay, which had a little bag attached filled with chocolates.

Sweets and Italian Operas

I know now how to do marzipan myself! And I’ve come to be acquainted with the works of Giuseppe Verdi. I’ve had a lot of fun with the latest gossip of the wizarding world! Arsenio hears everything that goes on. His cousin is married to Florean Fortescue, the owner of the ice café in Diagon Alley. But you want to know about my working experience and not about the gossip. Very well. Arsenio gave me some sweets to sample, then let me have my way in decorating the shop windows. He asked me to serve customers, but forgot to tell me that there were no signs telling which sweet was what – and that he knew instinctively who liked what best… It was a disaster that first day, and Arsenio had to come out of the kitchen more often than not. So the next day Arsenio closed the shop and taught me the names of his sweets and then made a list of customers and what they liked best. So the week passed calmly. I liked the work, especially because Arsenio always had something to make me laugh and to make me forget my mistakes if I made some. In the second week he took me into the kitchen and showed me how he made bonbons. I was allowed to draw designs for them and Arsenio was delighted with his – our – new creations. Then I was allowed to bake some cookies myself. In between I was still serving customers. And Arsenio sang continually, Verdi, as I wrote above. His voice is astonishing… However, that has got nothing to do with the job. I also was taught how to do marzipan, and so the weeks were really great. I enjoyed them. But I’m certainly not the best choice for a sweet shop, Emerson – find something else! Better, I find something else!

Dicket smiled at the bag of sweets, Anne’s homemade sweets. He thought it strange that two of the Magpies had not found their vocation – would Patience also have this problem? He took up her essay, characteristically decorated by little drawn herbs.

Diagon Alley

Eye of newt and claw of bat – whatever you need, Vicesimus Knox has it stored! I was even given a room over the shop, in the Knox’s own flat. Mr Knox’s wife is a muggle, and she is so sweet! Mrs Knox, Virginia, by the way, helps her husband in the shop and chops the roots, shreds things into powder and so on. And she knows all the latest news, even better than that gossip Rita Skeeter from the Daily Prophet. So, my first day was rather fascinating, as I was shown into the storage rooms and the cellar, where potions ingredients are piled on shelves and rest in sacks and barrels. One room is filled with drying herbs hanging from the ceiling and giving off a multitude of fragrances. In another room, eyes and tongues are dried. My first task was to label some jars. That was no great problem, I think, and I got leave to walk through Diagon Alley in the afternoon. I won’t bore you with a description of that! Well, in this first week I learned how to dry herbs and other ingredients the right way, how to chop accurately and yet fast, and that customers often come with no idea what they need and simply present their recipes. That means you have to weigh ingredients and advise them in detail how to use them. And there’s one shelf behind glass which I must never touch, Mr Knox told me with a merry twinkling of his eyes. These are the poisonous substances, those which only Mr Knox himself ever handles or even buys, as Mrs Knox told me. In the second week I was allowed to help some customers. That was fun, until someone you, Emerson, and me know very well. You better than I have ever wanted to know him. I bet he ran to you at once and told you about our encounter across  the counter. “Miss Wood, I would prefer someone competent,” was the first he said. I was only too glad and turned to Mr Knox, but he only smiled. “You can find nobody more competent, Professor Snape.” Snape looked highly sceptical, and so I felt. Isn’t it strange how that man manages to make you feel like a beetle under his boot-heel? Well, he needed some supplies in the basic potions ingredients. That was easy. Thanks to the fact that everyone needs these, we’ve got them on a special shelf. But then he needed some things I had never yet heard about. Fortunately Snape is an able potions brewer, I did not need to advise him. I handed over the things, got the money in return, but Snape still was there. “Can I help you with anything else?” I asked. “Why are you here? I thought Dicket placed you safely away at Oxford.” “I’m doing a job training,” I replied, inwardly boiling. “Yes, that will be useful for your career in the sports section of the Ministry,” Snape sneered and left. Mr Knox looked at me. “Don’t you let yourself down, girl. Sports section or no, if you need a job come here.” Ha! The third week was much better, Mr Knox even allowed me to test some new herbs he had got from Asia. It was great fun to stand in the experimental kitchen with Virginia Knox and trying to find out for what the herbs could be used as neither of us could read the Chinese instructions. Or whatever that language was, we couldn’t figure out the signs at all! Anyway, these three weeks were really great and I enjoyed working with Mr and Mrs Knox.

Dicket grinned as he placed this last essay back on the table. Yes, Snape had told him about this encounter. Dumbledore would want to read the reports as well, no doubt, and would then decide what to do with the Magpies after their last year. But the time at Oxford was only half over, so Dicket was confident he had enough time to think about suitable careers. But Patience – Patience needed to stay with the potions, so much was clear.

A Lesson on Men

The malignant magpies had gotten used to spending their free time between seminars in the library at Oxford. They sat at one table and read or wrote or did whatever was necessary. One day none of them had really anything to do. They decided to use the time to write some Christmas cards. Hengist wrote to one of his less favourite relatives. Patience was busy scribbling down some lines to her ghost great-aunt. Anne wrote a rather lengthy letter to the Weasleys. She even thought about sending this letter by muggle mail. Patience didn’t know what else to write though she had only put down a couple of sentences. Somehow she was distracted. A young man, tall with very short brown hair and dark eyes took a seat not too far from the trio. Patience looked at him. He didn’t notice her.

Soon it turned out that this young man had a slight cough. He kept coughing – but very slightly. It was almost as if he tried to attract attention, he certainly had Patience’s attention. Most probably for another reason than this handsome young man could have hoped for. Patience thought him extremely funny to look at. There was nothing wrong with his outer appearance but somehow Patience was sure something funny would happen. Anne had noticed that Patience had stopped writing.

Her eyes followed Patience’s gaze and reached their fellow student. She showed him to Hengist. “I wonder what she is dreaming.” Hengist whispered. “Who?” Patience asked curiously turning around. “You, of course, who else.” Anne answered pointing at the young man who not noticing them coughed again. “Don’t you think he is funny?” Patience asked. “What should be funny about him?” Hengist asked. “I just have a feeling that something funny will happen.” Patience explained. The three of them stared at the young man. At exactly that moment he managed to knock a heap of paper from his desk. The Malignant Magpies turned away from him. Patience bit her lip while Hengist and Anne hid their faces behind their hands. “I told you he was funny.” Patience whispered. Slowly they calmed down. Only a couple of minutes later the student sneezed. “Bless you!” Patience wished him. He thanked her. Anne and Hengist tried not to giggle. They needed to take several deep breaths. When Hengist had found his serious speech again he cleared his throat. “There is one thing you need to know about men: we can be extremely embarrassing.”

Life went on as if nothing had happened at all.

Oh oh oh It's Magic

“Hey, why did you dress so elegantly?” Patience asked in a surprised voice as Anne stepped out of her room. She wore a long black and grey plaited skirt that was endowed with a fly going up to her knee. Her pullover was dark green and had a big dark blue stripe framed by two small cappuccino-coloured stripes. She wore golden earrings in the form of a circle. And she had tamed her hair with two clips. “I just felt like this outfit.” Anne smiled back at her friend. SPLASH! The two girls turned around to see Hengist who had just dropped his glass of water. “You look breathtaking Anne!” He burst out. Anne frowned at the young man who currently was wearing a pair of worn-out shorts and a t-shirt that looked like once upon the time it had been kind of pinkish. “Thanks, pal.” She replied. “Where are you going anyway?” Patience wanted to know. Anne shrugged. “Not sure yet.” She replied picking up her rucksack. “Just breathe the air of the city a bit, I guess.” “Why not head for a date – if you’re dressed like that anyway.” Hengist suggested jokingly. “And whom do you think I should date?” Anne asked. Hengist pretended to adjust an invisible tie around his neck and gave her a broad smile. “Maybe some other time.” Anne replied. “Well, you don’t know what you’re missing!” He threw in. Anne turned to leave. “Believe me, I’m quite sure I do know what I’m missing. See you folks.”

“Well, she’ll turn a thousand heads today!” Hengist remarked. “Oh, you know what men are like!” Patience complained. “But, well, why don’t we go and see what will happen.” She suggested. Something in the way she had pronounced ‘see’ told Hengist that Patience was up to something which exceeded the mere activity of watching. He was too curious to stay behind. “Damn, she’s taking the car!” Hengist observed as Anne started the car and rolled away. “We’ll never catch up with her now.” “Oh, please, are we you know what or aren’t we?” Patience retorted. Hengist shook his head while Patience waved her wand secretly. “I hope Emerson will never find out.”

Anne had driven to a nearby town where she walked up and down the market having no eyes for the goods offered there but aiming for the next supermarket to buy a jigsaw puzzle. “I hope you’ll behave yourself.” Hengist whispered into Patience’s ear. “Too many people around here.” Patience nodded. “It’s a pity.” She added. After almost an hour and without the jigsaw puzzle Anne left the town again heading for another shop.

“What on earth could she want to buy in a DIY store?” Hengist exclaimed when Anne entered the building self-consciously. “I have no idea – let’s find out.” Patience suggested. Hengist shrugged and followed Patience inside. Anne wasn’t looking for a jigsaw puzzle any longer, she intended to buy some plants to decorate her room. However she stopped in front of the box with the wooden pieces that are cheaper because of their low quality. “Oh, yes indeed.” Patience whispered. Her wand was pointed at a not too old clerk. “Volo!” She whispered. “Hello!” The clerk greeted Anne. “Hello.” She replied. She had almost turned around to check if the man had really spoken to her. But as suddenly as he had greeted her he returned to his work. Anne trod of to the plant section. “Why did you do that for?” Patience asked angrily. She was of course referring to Hengist’s immediate stopping of the charm. “He’s not her type.” He only replied. Patience sighed and together they returned to their flat. Anne arrived shortly after them. “Look what I’ve bought!” She presented to them tiny roses that she immediately placed in her room.

Sweets

Whoever dropped in to 3, Magpie Lane, Oxford would find a nice cup of tea and a crystal bowl full of sweets on the living-room table. Emerson Dicket appreciated this most, but also friends of the residents. Not to speak of the residents themselves. Hengist took a pleasure in introducing muggle sweets of various kinds to his friends. Lisa refused to eat of the sweets – well, usually she did – because she wanted to hold her weight. “Doll. Brainless doll,” as Patience had once remarked with a fond shaking of her head. But deep down in their hearts the Magpies were definitely fond of Lisa their pet muggle. One memorable day, though, this affection was strained on both sides. As often in the early hours of the evening, Patience had cuddled onto the sofa, a book on her lap and her fingers in her ear to block out the sounds of the television. Lisa loved soap-operas (it had taken a while for Hengist to explain that these were not singing soap bars) and watched them faithfully every day of the week. Anne sat at the writing desk composing an essay, having blocked her ears magically. Hengist was not there. Patience took her fingers out of her ears and looked up. “Where’s our boy?” she asked. Nobody answered. Anne could not hear a single sound, and Lisa was so fascinated by the soap opera’s hero kissing the wife of his best friend that she had no eyes or ears for real life. Patience groaned. She leaned forward and looked for the consolation of chocolate. Nothing. The bowl was empty. It was the first time since Christmas that this had happened, for before everyone had supplied sweets (Hengist had blocked the magical sweets, of course). Patience sighed deeply and uncurled her legs. “Right then, I’ll be right back!” she announced to her uninterested housemates. On the upper landing Bethesda greeted her mistress. “Hello, Bethesda, where have you been all day?” Patience asked, caressing her cat affectionately. “Why don’t you come down and bear me company? I just have to fetch something.” Bethesda meowed in answer and Patience went to her own room, fetching a bag she had hidden in her wardrobe. “Okay, let’s go down.” Cat and girl went downstairs, sat down on the sofa, and Patience filled the crystal bowl again with bonbons and chocolate balls, taking one of the huge balls for herself. “Nothing like these,” she told Bethesda who had curled up on her lap and enjoyed being caressed. The chocolate balls were filled with strawberry mousse and clotted cream – and they were magical. They were part of Oliver’s Christmas present for his sister: a selection of Honeydukes’ Finest. Okay, there had also been Cockroach Clusters among them, but it had turned out that Bethesda really loved these. So Patience was happy with her sweets, and now generously gave the tiny remains to her friends. Lisa looked up when there was the ad-break. “Oh, you refilled the bowl, Patience,” she beamed, fumbling for something she might like. There were no wrappers around the sweets (Honeydukes did not wrap its sweets), so there was no indication for the untrained eye what was safe and what could have some side effects. However, the honey-coloured toffee was really safe and Lisa enjoyed it. Patience smiled happily. “See, sometimes I can be generous, too,” she grinned. “I assume I have to get some work done.” And with that Patience and Bethesda disappeared upstairs. Lisa’s hand frequently went to the sweet bowl, but so far she was in luck. The only thing she had found unusual had been an Every Flavour Bean with the taste of spinach. Anne yawned and stretched and got up, finally being able to hear again. “Oh, great, I love those,” she said, helping herself to a fat toffee chunk. “Where’s Patience?” Lisa shrugged, her hand fumbling for something new and pausing on a green sugar toad. “I guess you’d know exactly where that idiot with the greasy hair is,” Anne guessed. Lisa grinned. “Correct. Anne, I really don’t….” Lisa’s eyes grew wide and shocked. She placed a hand on her stomach. “What is this?” she asked alarmed. “Huh? What did you eat?” “A sugar toad,” Lisa replied. Then her shocked expression went away. “Maybe it was just a fancy, but I really thought this toad would hop realistically in my stomach.” Anne frowned and took a closer look at the sweets. “Oh. No, I don’t think so,” she said feebly. She was in some trouble to find a way to sort out the special effects sweets. There was none, at least not to Anne. So she watched helplessly when Lisa ate an Ice Mouse. As Anne had known they would, Lisa’s teeth began to chatter and squeak, and Lisa panicked. She was howling something about helping her, getting a doctor, do anything, and Anne stood by, helpless and laughing in spite of herself. The charm stopped after Lisa had swallowed the last bit of Mouse. “That was definitely no fancy,” Lisa gasped. “No,” Anne admitted. She thought quickly. “I think you had an allergic reaction to the Mice,” she said. Lisa looked suspiciously at the sweets. “D’you reckon a sherbet ball would be safe?” Anne, not looking at Lisa but at Hengist strolling up the walk to the door said: “Sure, they’re fine.” Hengist entered, looking thoroughly enraged: “Can you imagine how stupid they all are? It doesn’t mean that I want to sing in the choir if I’m gay. I don’t want to sing. I can’t sing,” he fumed. Anne laughed. “I know you can’t sing. How has the rest of your day been, my dear?” Hengist grinned at her, then looked into the living room and stepped backwards, right unto Anne’s toes. “Ouch! What’s wrong?” “Why is Lisa hovering some centimetres over the floor?” Hengist asked, turning slowly in a very Emerson-like fashion. “I don’t know,” Anne said honestly. Patience came downstairs again, a load of books in her arms. She dropped them, shrieking: “Oh no!!!” Hengist took a deep breath. “Kitchen, girls,” he said. Lisa looked at the three of them with such panic and fear that it made the Magpies pity her a lot. “We cannot help you,” Patience said. “I’m so sorry. Really,” she added, wringing her hands in real despair. “Come on, Patience,” Hengist called from the kitchen. “Who was so stupid to put these Fizzing Whizbees into the sweet bowl?” Hengist asked. “Me,” Patience answered timidly. Hengist leant over the table, bringing his face very close to Patience’s. “That was idiotic. You see to it all special effects sweets are gone before Lisa catches anything else. I hope she did not encounter anything else?” Anne gave a tiny cough. Hengist turned to her. “Ice Mice and Toad Creams,” Anne told him. Hengist groaned, sat down and buried his head in his hands. “This is not my day.” “Fine. This is not your day. I only wanted to be nice,” Patience defended herself. “Patience Wood. For one time, please, think before you do something,” Hengist advised her, strode over to the living room and fetched the bowl. “You – get the sweets alright,” he barked. Neither Patience nor Anne dared to tell him he had gone crazy. “He does have some natural authority,” Anne mumbled. Patience nodded silently.

The Hunt for the Blood Orchid

“My King has just managed to escape your Bishop – is that good?” Patience asked Anne doubtingly. “Not really, for now my Queen can take your King – checkmate, Patience,” Anne sighed. It was just no challenge playing wizard’s chess against Patience. Hengist looked up from his book. “What, again?” He checked his wristwatch. “Fifteen minutes – a record, Anne,” he remarked. Patience shrugged. “Well, it doesn’t really matter. Where’s Lisa, by the way?” “You remember early to ask for our pet Muggle – after you’ve been playing with talking, moving pawns,” Hengist laughed.

“You’re right – but I saw Lisa leaving with some bloke from Cardinal’s College,” Anne said soothingly. “Oh, then she’ll be out for a longer time. He’s Colin Morecombe, and he’s studying law as does Lisa. They learn together,” Patience informed the others. “How comes you know all that?” Anne asked intrigued. Patience shrugged. “Walls are shockingly thin here sometimes, and this phone…” She smiled serenely. Hengist wondered, not for the first time, if it had been wise to introduce his girls to the new world of technology and the means of eavesdropping on other people’s talking via house telephone.

“The less said the better,” he decided and yawned. “What are we going to do, then, with a Muggle-free house?” “It’s my turn to clean, I could accelerate procedures a little,” Anne suggested. “Alright,” Hengist agreed. He had barely finished the word when Anne had her wand at the ready and waved it around the room, saying happily, “Biffido”. Cushions straightened themselves, crumbs vanished from the carpet – and with a plop Emerson Dicket Apparated in the middle of the living room.

“Well, well, well, Anne caught red-handed,” he said sarcastically. “No Muggle even near the house,” Anne defended herself. Emerson walked to the window and looked out. “Your next-door neighbour is out weeding her garden, and her hubby is mowing the lawn,” Dicket told the Magpies. “And we’ve tidied up the inside of the living room, Emerson,” Patience pointed out. “She could have spied into your living room,” Dicket said. “Nonsense. Mrs Pool wouldn’t do that,” Anne said gruffly.

“Anyway, I did not come because of your bit of magic, Anne,” Dicket remembered and settled down in the squashy armchair he liked best. “It was just coincidence that the red lights went on because of a spell done here.” “Wonderful. So what is this – a courtesy call?” Patience enquired. “Not exactly. We need your help,” Dicket replied. Stunned silence followed this.

“Who is we?” Hengist asked. “Professor Dumbledore, Professor Sprout and me,” Dicket answered. “What kind of help?” Anne asked suspiciously. “Yes, well, it’s a rather delicate matter. Are you sure Miss Lisa won’t come bursting in on us?” Dicket looked uneasily around. “Quite sure. If you want to, we seal the door so that she will remember an urgent appointment when she approaches,” Patience said. “You only want to do magic. Don’t,” Dicket advised her. Patience shrugged and perched on the arm of the couch.

Dicket took a deep breath. “Yes. Professor Sprout has been working on a fairly rare specimen of an orchid lately. You see, she’s very fond of orchids, Nausicaa is, and she was toying with the idea of sending this particular plant to the Honourable Horticultural Sorcerers’ Society.” Dicket shook his head fondly. “Bless her,” he said, and the Magpies grinned. Dicket was always laughing about his colleagues’ little hobbies whereas he himself ignored the strange habits he had acquired over time. “What is that orchid, then?” Hengist asked. “Dead when it sees me,” Anne joked and they all chuckled. Dicket nodded. “That’s the thing, yes, maybe Nausicaa just takes the opportunity to work with rare plants – she was always dreading disaster when you were still around.” “Thanks a lot,” Anne said good-naturedly.

“Anyway, that particular orchid was a Blood Orchid,” Dicket revealed. “A what?” Patience asked, looking deeply disgusted. “A Blood Orchid,” Emerson repeated. He looked into the revolted faces of his students and began to comprehend. “Ah. You think it’s a blood-sucking little creature, don’t you?” he asked and grinned broadly when the Magpies nodded. “You’ve got a nasty fantasy, you three. A Blood Orchid is called Blood Orchid because its blossoms are blood red. Besides, it’s toxic.” “What?!” Patience exclaimed and jumped up. “Are we talking about the Blood Orchid?” “What are you talking about?” Dicket asked confused.

Patience smiled. “I’m talking about the Blood Orchid, ingredient in any poison you need to stun smaller animals or household pests. Doxycide contains a bit of it, by the way. It’s got a stunning ability, the Blood Orchid, and when you touch it without gloves you’re going to fall asleep immediately.” “You know far too much about poisons,” Hengist thought aloud. Patience shrugged. “As long as I don’t brew them you’re safe,” she assured her friend. “But I guess, from what Nausicaa told me, it is this Blood Orchid we’re talking about,” Emerson reassured the Magpies. “What happened to it?” Anne wanted to know. Surely Dicket had not dropped by to tell them of Professor Sprout’s hopes to win a prize for her orchids.

“It was stolen,” Dicket said calmly. “Who steals the orchid?” Patience asked nonplussed. “Snape,” Anne suggested at once. “No, it was not Severus,” Dicket grinned. “Who was it then, or do you expect us to find out?” Hengist asked incredulously. “It was not my brother, was it?” Patience asked alarmed. “No, it was not Oliver, and no, we don’t want you to spy for us. How should you, you’re not even at school any longer – besides, had you still been at school, we would have suspected you,” Dicket admitted frankly. “Ah, what an honour – why should we steal an orchid?” Anne asked derisively. “That’s such a Slytherin idea!” she added. Dicket raised an eyebrow. “Why that?” “An orchid that sends you asleep when touching it, the only one at Hogwarts, and we all know that Professor Sprout has her special breeds monitored by house-elves,” Anne listed. Dicket applauded her. “Very good. And yes, it was a Slytherin. That’s where you come in.” He leaned forward. “It was Seraphia Banks, and the orchid is not in her possession anymore.”

“No!” Patience exclaimed. She ran her fingers through her hair. “She gave it away.” “Oh yes, she did, but she did not sell it – we’ve got a highly useful connection to the sellers of restricted goods, a Mr Fletcher – and she did not hide it at Hogwarts, nor at Hogsmeade. We concluded…” “… that she sent it to her brother,” Hengist ended the sentence for the professor. Dicket nodded. “What do you want us to do?” Anne enquired. “Find the orchid and bring it back, if possible. Please don’t kill it, but if you must do it to save Muggles, then go near it. Otherwise keep a distance of about three metres,” Dicket told Anne. “Then we should first go and see Banks,” Patience resolved.

 

The Magpies went in search of Roland Banks right after Dicket had left. “I hope you know what such an orchid looks like – and can spot it at a safe distance,” Anne said glumly. Patience shrugged. “I don’t care about the plant, frankly, I care about the Muggles who might get hurt.” “So you would sacrifice the precious orchid for Muggles?” Anne asked. “Exactly,” Patience replied. Anne smiled. “Let’s go!”

Roland was not in his flat, however. “Does he attend classes at that time in the afternoon?” Anne asked surprised. “Can’t be – remember Emerson put us into the exact same classes?” Hengist enquired. Anne grimaced. “I try to forget that.” “Where can he be?” Patience asked angrily after the fifth time they had rung the bell unsuccessfully. “Maybe he’s taking a bath?” Hengist suggested. “Oh please, don’t plant such hideous images in my mind,” Patience said at once, shuddering. “Cheer up, Roland never takes baths,” Anne assured her friend. “Maybe he’s in the library?” Hengist tried again. “Can he read?” “Does the library hold picture books?” were his friends ideas.

“You do know that you’re not very helpful, girls, don’t you?” Hengist asked conversationally as they slowly walked downstairs again. They had barely reached the front door when it was pushed open and Roland himself entered, tie askew, a bag around his shoulders and his uncombed hair as greasy as ever. “What do you want here?” he asked when he spotted the Magpies. “We wanted to talk to you,” Hengist announced cheerfully. “But I don’t,” Banks replied gruffly and tried to squeeze past the others. “Not so fast, Banks, we said we wanted a word with you,” Patience said as if talking to a very small child.

“Yeah?” Banks tried to play it cool, but without success. “Any problems down there?” called a voice from the third floor. “No, it’s fine,” Hengist called up before Banks had a chance to say otherwise. The head of the middle-aged woman disappeared again, and the four heard her tell someone in her own flat that down there were just some of those troublesome students. “Let’s go to your rooms, then, Banks, before we get arrested for disturbing the neighbours,” Hengist suggested.

Banks led the way. He opened the door to a small two-room apartment. It was surprisingly tidy there, but the smell of burnt spinach lingered in the air. “Nice digs,” Anne commented. Banks threw the bag onto the table and snorted. “Very fine, but you were installed in a beautiful house with Lisa.” “We can give you Lisa any time,” Patience assured Banks, but Hengist said: “Stop that.”

“What do you want to talk about? Surely not my flat,” Banks stated. “Very well deduced,” Anne commented. Hengist gave her a sharp glance, and she fell silent. Patience took to examining the pictures on the bookshelves to stop herself from talking. They were family pictures, most of them of Seraphia and Roland together. Seraphia was laughing and waving, and she looked very pretty next to her sulking elder brother. Patience shook her head at the girl, then turned around to find Banks staring at her.

“How does your sister?” Patience asked innocently. “Fine,” Banks replied. “If that’s all you wanted to know, leave,” he added in an unfriendly tone. “Tut tut, Banks, that’s not very polite,” Anne reproached him. “Did you get mail from Seraphia lately?” Hengist asked. “Yes. Although I don’t know why that concerns you,” Banks replied. “Was it a letter or even a parcel?” Patience asked. “That’s definitely none of your business. Spying into my correspondence!” Banks flustered. “Come off it – it is our business. Professor Dicket authorised us to ask you,” Hengist calmly told him.

It rendered Banks speechless. Patience strolled over to the kitchen. Where the bed-sit had been nice and tidy, the kitchen was just short of a mess. Patience shuddered. Maybe the mashed potatoes had developed their own government, and the peas were their army. They definitely looked as if they had grown legs under the fur that covered them. “No Blood Orchid can live for long in such an environment,” she muttered, but nevertheless tried to overcome her disgust and looked into the cupboards and shelves. No plant anywhere, but loads of uneatable food.

She returned to the bed-sit where Hengist had still not unearthed any additional information and said: “It’s not in the kitchen – but you should throw away most of the stuff you keep there, or you’re going to die of food-poisoning.” “You don’t care anyway,” Banks said – and he was right. Patience shrugged. “Tell us about the mail and we’re going to leave,” she said wearily. Banks closed his eyes. “A parcel,” he said through gritted teeth and opened the door. “Leave.”

“Not so fast – where is it?” Hengist asked quickly. “Not here, as Woodlouse so rightly stated,” Banks replied, beckoning the Magpies out of his flat. “Leave or I’ll call the police.” “Don’t get all shirty, Banks,” Hengist said and grinned. “Girls, we shall bid Mr Banks goodbye. Thanks for your welcoming us.” He led the girls out of the flat, smiling relaxed. It made Banks furious. The Magpies had barely reached the stairs when Banks called after them: “Maybe you will find a walk in the park most interesting.”

 

“Why does it always work with him?” Patience asked and shook her head. Hengist shrugged. “He’s a Slytherin, but he’s as dumb as the dumbest Hufflepuff.” “And his peas have grown legs,” Patience added. Anne shuddered. “Don’t tell me about that – that’s sooo disgusting.” “Yes it is,” Patience nodded.

They had reached the park. “Right. Where can he have planted the parcel?” Anne asked, looking around. “Anne, you don’t plant parcels. You plant, well, plants,” Patience giggled. Hengist shook his head. “Be more serious, you two – we’re on a secret mission – wow, I feel like James Bond!” “Who?” Anne and Patience asked in one voice. “James Bond, the super agent of MI 5,” Hengist explained, but seeing the blank faces of the girls he gave up. Patience frowned. “What’s MI 5?” “It’s okay, it’s just a film.” Hengist shook his head. Sometimes it was just unbelievable how little Anne and Patience still knew about Muggle life.

“So, where’s the bloody orchid?” Anne asked again. “It’s Blood Orchid, not bloody orchid,” Patience corrected Anne. “Really, very funny, girls – look over there!” Hengist pointed at a flower bed that was essentially red. There were red roses, red dahlias and in between some snapdragons – the Muggle sort, of course. But in the midst of it the perfect symmetry was broken. Anne stopped. “I can’t go any farther,” she declared.

“Then it’s our turn – oh no!” Hengist and Patience stood petrified, and Anne was also unable to move. A huge dog was bounding over the lawn. Apparently something attracted him to the flower bed. “No, no, no,” Anne breathed. But the dog was suddenly running towards the bushes, where a squirrel ran up the twigs. “Wonderful,” Hengist said grimly and strode forward, right over the lawn.

“You there, sir!” called an imperative voice. Hengist turned and faced an enraged gardener, hurrying towards him with his spade raised. Anne was doubling up with laughter and Patience just stopped short of stepping on the obviously sacred lawn. “What are you thinkin’ walkin’ unter tha’ lawn?” the gardener demanded furiously. “I lost my keys,” Hengist excused himself. “On the lawn?” the gardener asked incredulously. “No – in the park, and I thought, well, maybe a dog dragged them here,” Hengist said quite convincingly. The gardener shook his head. “You’re daft,” he commented.

Then his eyes fell on the flower that disturbed the perfect symmetry. “Wha’ the ‘ell?” he asked and scratched his head. “’oo planted tha’ there?” “It looks interesting, may I have a closer look?” Hengist took his chance. “Na, wait, I’ll ‘ave a look,” the gardener said and bent forwards. “Erm… Sir, should you touch the flower without gloves? I mean, it could cause an allergic reaction, couldn’t it?” Hengist asked. The gardener snorted. “In yer hands, mebbe,” he said and reached out.

Patience and Anne exchanged a glance. It was now or never. Patience ran onto the lawn. “Darling, did you find the keys?” she asked and gave the gardener a radiant smile. The man straightened up and touched his cap. “Miss,” he said politely. Then he realised Patience was as well standing on the lawn. “Miss, yer not supposed ter stand there,” the gardener said uncomfortably. Patience looked surprised. “Really? Oh, I’m terribly sorry. But…” Her face lit up. “Come to think of it, you might be able to help me. I saw the most curious flower over there, and me and my husband want to have a garden of our own. Maybe you would give me some information about it?” Flattered, the gardener nodded. He followed Patience to a yellow flowerbed.

Hengist giggled. Husband, really! But it was a welcome distraction for the gardener, and when Patience, chatting pleasantly all the time, had vanished with the gardener in tow, Hengist quickly put on his dragon hide gloves and took the Blood Orchid out. “Lovely thing,” he remarked and waved to Anne.

Anne called over: “You get it back, right? I’ll save Patience!” Hengist gave Anne the thumbs-up and, after carefully looking around for possible eye-witnesses, Disapparated. He Apparated at Hogsmeade. Amused Hengist thought that this was one of the rare places where he felt like being home. There was really no place like Hogwarts, he knew. So Hengist relished in walking slowly up to the castle.

Somebody must have spotted him, for he had hardly reached the yard when Professor Sprout hurried to him, looking as anxious as if a child was ill. “It’s here, it’s fine, and it wasn’t anywhere near Anne,” Hengist assured her at once. Pomona Sprout had a look at the Blood orchid and nodded, deeply relieved. “Thank you,” she said warmly. “Oh, it was a real pleasure,” Hengist answered and grinned. Dicket and Dumbledore came out as well. “Oh, you succeeded!” Dicket exclaimed and patted Hengist’s shoulder. “See, Dumbledore, I told you our Magpies were up to it all.” Dumbledore smiled at Dicket’s pride. “I never doubted it. Well done, indeed,” the headmaster told Hengist. “If you need us – we’re at your service, any time,” Hengist promised. “I should get back now, the girls are on their own.” Hengist managed a worried look, and Dicket laughed out loud. “You go and be a good watch-dog.”

 

When Hengist returned, Patience and Anne were outside in the garden, planting. “What are you doing?” he asked surprised. “Patience managed to talk the gardener into giving her some seedlings,” Anne laughed. Hengist stared at Patience who shrugged. “I don’t know, he seemed to like me a lot, that Andrew Collins. And he really insisted on giving me these,” she added, seeing Hengist’s horrified look. “Patience Wood, did you bewitch him?” “No, honestly, I didn’t,” Patience assured her friend.

Hengist was not really convinced, but he left it at that. “What was it like at Hogwarts? Any news about what happened to Seraphia?” Anne enquired. “Why don’t these plants die?” Hengist asked distractedly. “Maybe only magical plants react to Anne?” Patience suggested. Anne shrugged. “Maybe you shouldn’t hope for too much,” she said gloomily. “Yes, maybe we should wait for a week until we say the plants have survived,” Hengist agreed. Then he said: “Hogwarts, yes. Professor Sprout was overjoyed, and Seraphia will likely get a month’s worth of detentions.” “She won’t be expelled?” Patience asked surprised. “No. She won’t be expelled,” Hengist sighed heavily.

“Well,” Anne said pragmatically, “theoretically we should have been expelled years before. Nothing happened, I mean, there was no harm done, was there?” Patience snorted. “Yeah, and she’s a Slytherin. That’s a privileged house, mind.” Hengist grinned. “Let’s face it, she was just stupid enough to send the flower to her brother. If she had kept it for her own purposes, things would have been much more interesting at Hogwarts!” “More interesting?” Patience enquired. “Professors dropping asleep, students falling down during lessons – just imagine the possibilities. Or you could use it to skive lessons!” Hengist laughed out loud. “A pity we aren’t at school any longer,” Anne mused.

The Boggart in the Cupboard

“Argh!” Lisa emerged from the kitchen screaming on top of her voice. Patience jumped down the last three steps of the stairs, asking, “What has happened?” She feared Bethesda had brought in some dead mice yet again. “There’s a… a…,” Lisa stammered, clearly too shocked to speak. Patience shook her slightly. “What is there?” “There’s a ghost in the kitchen!” Patience swallowed. “Lisa, there are no ghosts here,” she said carefully, praying this was true. “Look for yourself – I won’t go into there again,” Lisa declared, striding past Patience towards her room upstairs. Patience stood on the spot, thinking of what to do, when Hengist entered. “Oh, great, you’re here. Lisa has seen a ghost in the kitchen,” Patience reported. Hengist took a deep breath. “Oh no,” he muttered. “Oh no, oh no, oh no.” “Exactly,” Patience agreed. Anne emerged from the bathroom, a towel around her wet hair. “Was that Lisa screaming?” she enquired. “Yes.” “Did someone borrow her T-shirts?” Anne wanted to know. “No, a ghost’s in the kitchen,” Patience laughed. Anne shook her head. “You call me if it’s Nick,” she said and vanished again. Patience sighed. “It’s no good standing here, I’ll have a look.” She opened the kitchen door and heard a cracking sound – then found herself opposite a giant spider. “NO!” she cried and jumped backward, then turned to Hengist. “A Boggart.” “What?” Hengist hurried to the door, peered inside and saw the giant spider waiting for its next victim. “Okay, we need Anne to help us. Let’s get a go at it.” He hurried to the bathroom door, knocked vigorously and called for Anne. She came out again, looking a bit disgruntled. “Well?” she asked. “Boggart in the kitchen,” Hengist reported. But when they entered the kitchen, each with wand held in front of them, no sign of the shape-shifter was to be seen. “Where’s the beast?” Patience asked exasperated. Something gave a loud clatter inside the cupboard under the sink. “Ah yes,” Anne grinned. But when she opened the door, Bethesda jumped out. “You did not bury mice there, flee farm, did you?” Anne asked suspiciously, rummaging through the bowls. “No mice, no Boggart,” she said disappointed. “Are you sure?” Patience asked. Both Hengist and Anne turned to her. “Patience. A Boggart would turn into a giant spider the moment it glimpsed you,” Anne said dryly. “Oh. Right.” Patience blushed a bit. “Let’s look for the Boggart, then, it won’t leave until we force it to,” Hengist sighed. So they began to look through all the cupboards in the kitchen. “Argh! You should really put your broom somewhere else, Patience!” Anne yelled all of a sudden. Patience swivelled around. “My broom’s up in my room,” she said, then realized what it was. “Hengist, forward!” she commanded. Hengist was already there and forced the Boggart-broom to turn to him. The Boggart cracked and became a naked Lisa. Patience darted forward, the Boggart got confused and the result was that naked Lisa suddenly sprouted eight hairy legs. “Riddikulus!” Anne cried. The Boggart turned to her and suddenly there was a broom with blond hair. The Magpies burst into laughter, and the Boggart cracked one last time and faded. “Well done, girls,” Hengist panted. “Your Boggart is a broom?” Patience asked Anne and lapsed into another laughing fit, which Hengist and Anne joined.

On Horseback

“Bethesda!” Patience called. No cat appeared. “Where is she this time?” Patience murmured and closed the door behind her. It seemed as if she was in for another search through Oxford. There were loads of cats at Oxford, and Patience wished to use the Summoning Charm – but that would inevitably call Emerson Dicket to the scene, and she was not so keen on being the bad girl once again. So she strolled through the streets, occasionally calling for her cat. It earned her nothing but amused stares and knowing nods. “I’m going to skin you alive, cat, if you don’t come back right now,” Patience hissed menacingly, bending down to look through the archway of a private garden. No Bethesda, but a very angry dog appeared. “Okay, I won’t skin you,” Patience hurriedly assured the growling beast and retreated quickly.

She turned and shrieked. That caused the huge animal in front of her to step back some startled steps, carefully soothed and held by its rider. “It’s just a horse,” said the young man amused. Patience blushed. “I just did not see it before I turned,” she defended herself. “Of course. Hey, I know you, you’re Patience Wood.” Patience frowned. As far as she was aware none of her acquaintance were horsemen. “I’m Orlando, Arsenio’s apprentice, remember?” the young man went on and smiled. “Oh, of course! I just didn’t recognize you with that helmet on,” Patience replied, feeling more stupid by the second.

To make matters worse, the horse began to breathe down her neck – and if there was something Patience could not stand, it was this. So she tried to evade the horse’s head – to no avail. “Er… Orlando, you haven’t seen a grey cat by chance?” she asked. “Many. Is there anything that makes her special?” Orlando enquired and finally got off his horse. “She’s an angora with green eyes, a rather bushy tail and a little white spot on her left front paw,” Patience described her cat. “No, sorry, I saw only a grey tabby,” Orlando replied and scratched his head – a useless effort, seeing he still wore a helmet.

“Want to go on horseback one day?” he then offered. “Percy’s really nice.” “What? How comes you know Percy?” Patience asked perplexed. She was thinking of Percy Weasley, whom Oliver had taken to ignore, as he had informed his sister in his last letter. “I ride him once a week,” Orlando replied. That made absolutely no sense to Patience. “I beg your pardon?” she asked. “Percy – the horse,” Orlando said and caressed the horse’s neck. “The poor animal is called Percy?” Patience laughed. “Nobody can choose his or her name, can we? So, want a ride?” “No, thanks, I’d rather not,” Patience declined. She loved riding broomsticks, but a horse…. “I can’t play Quidditch on Percy,” she added and grinned. “But you can play gnome polo. Want to come watch a game?” “I’m not sure…” Patience began, but seeing the begging look in Orlando’s eyes, she changed her mind: “Oh, alright. I’ll ask Anne and Hengist to come as well, shall I?” “Oh, perfect!” Orlando beamed gratefully and mounted Percy again.

Patience watched him ride away. Maybe, she thought to herself, he was not quite so stupid as Arsenio had pictured him. But then, the sweetmaker had a good knowledge of his fellow creatures. Suddenly a grey shadow flitted past Patience. “Bethesda!” she called, and the shadow skittered to a halt. Bethesda turned and came back to her mistress, looking distinctly guilty.

“You are a nuisance sometimes, but I still love you,” Patience declared and scooped the cat up. Bethesda suffered herself being carried home. “Where was the flea farm?” Anne enquired. “Somewhere. Our ways crossed incidentally,” Patience answered. “Listen, you two, we’ve got an invitation to watch some polo.” “Polo? Posh sport,” Lisa commented. “Can I come, too?” “I’m afraid not, the tickets are only for three,” Patience said and managed a pitying expression. “But I can ask for a fourth, you know,” she added. Lisa shook her head and laughed. “No. My boyfriend and me are going for a weekend trip to the Lake District anyway. And we’ll extend it until Wednesday.” “And Thursday is your exam in International Law,” Hengist said. Lisa grinned. “Exactly. That’s why I do the trip. My boyfriend is a lawyer specializing in International Law.” Anne and Patience exchanged a smile. Lisa shrugged. “I’ve also got the books, but there’s nothing like getting some insight.”

“When will we go watch polo?” Anne asked. Patience blinked. “Oh, that idiot. He forgot to tell me when we shall come,” Patience groaned. “Who is that idiot?” Hengist wanted to know. “Arsenio’s apprentice,” Patience explained. Hengist laughed out loud. “His apprentice! Then we’ll be in for good fun.”

 

The next day saw the Magpies on their weekly pilgrimage to Sweet Italy, where they were treated as favourites by Arsenio. “And do you see, that cake was done by Orlie himself,” Arsenio proudly said. Right on cue, Orlando’s head appeared in the kitchen door. And at the same moment, the cake experienced a kind of implosion and fell into pieces. “What happened to it?” Orlando asked puzzled. “Did you put the beaten egg white into the dough?” Arsenio asked, raising an eyebrow. “I think so,” Orlando replied but went back to check. Needless to say he had not put the egg into the dough. Equally needless to say that the cake collapsed because there was too much fluffy air in it and not enough dough. “And did you add the Accelerating Anis?” Arsenio enquired. “Of course,” Orlando proudly replied. “Of course. No egg white, but Accelerating Anis.” Arsenio raised his eyes to heaven and shook his head. “Ah, Merlin’s beard, what shall I do that you keep in mind to do anything properly?” Orlando blushed fiercely but stayed silent. “Your mother, bless her, she sent you to me and now I can only tell her that her son has a lot of other things in his head but not learning Crumlum’s traditional trade,” Arsenio went on. The Magpies exchanged uncomfortable glances. “Arsenio, can I pay?” Hengist asked. That brought Arsenio back to his senses. “You are here for just five minutes, my friends. Stay for a while longer, yes?” he said and smiled. “Orlando, when’s the polo?” Patience managed to call before Orlando took the chance to flee the wrath of his master. “Friday night,” Orlando replied. “At the Carpenter’s Field.”

 

Carpenter’s Field was a huge green field on the outskirts of Oxford. The Cam was flowing calmly on one side, and in the distance the reverend domes of the colleges loomed into the sky. It was a clear, crisp day, and the Magpies had wrapped themselves up in scarves and mufflers. “Why are we here?” Anne asked for the hundredth time. “To watch Arsenio’s apprentice play polo,” Patience replied as she had always done that day. “And we are here because you were too kind to say no. Honestly, Patience, that will get you into trouble one day. Just imagine – you’re asked to marry, say, Professor Snape, and you’ll end up being Mrs Snape just because you can’t say no!” Hengist and Patience laughed. “That’s highly unlikely,” Patience said. “Thank God it is,” Anne grimly stated.

“There he is,” Patience said and pointed at a white horse. “Oh, fine, we can mark him by the horse,” Hengist said happily. “With those helmets, I’d never be able to say who is who.” “That’s Percy,” Patience explained. Anne blinked. “Where? Are the Weasleys here?” she asked. “No. Orlando’s horse is called Percy,” Patience told her. “Oh. And – hang on, there is no ball,” Anne said suspiciously. Hengist frowned. “Maybe they’ll conjure it up?” Both he and Anne looked questioningly at Patience.

She looked unhappy. “Er… no, they’re not conjuring it up. It’s, um, a special kind of polo,” she said. “What special kind of polo?” Anne asked. “Gnome polo,” Patience whispered. “What?!” Anne exclaimed. She looked at the lawn, the horses and the riders. “I’m off. I’m not going to watch gnomes being chased around a field.” Hengist held her back. “Stop it, Anne. You’ve been watching Bethesda chase gnomes, and you’ve been watching people hurling gnomes. It’s no use setting them free, as you well know.” “Exactly,” said a voice from behind them. It was Arsenio. “Besides, this is my field, and I want it de-gnomed. So I offered it for gnome polo playing, yes?” He rubbed his hands gleefully.

Anne shook her head stubbornly. “It’s still not funny,” she insisted. Arsenio shrugged. “I think it funny to see young wizards and witches ride horses to chase gnomes, when all you usually need are your two hands. The gnomes usually get the better of the riders, because they spook the horses.” “The riders?” Hengist asked stupidly, because he had been watching a rider with more interest than the others. “The horses are spooked, Hengist,” Patience laughed. “See that rider?” Hengist asked. “Yes. Why?” “That’s Banks.”

“No way,” Anne and Patience said in one voice. “Oh he is,” Hengist said smugly. “And judging by the colour of his suit, he’s in the opposing team.” Arsenio smiled. “The Oxford Onions are playing Orlando’s team, the Canterbury Carrots,” he explained. “Onions and carrots?” Patience giggled. “Tasty,” Hengist commented and the Magpies lapsed into laughter. Arsenio shook his head. “Children, that’s what you are.”

The gnome polo game was much more interesting and less dangerous for the gnomes than Anne had thought. The gnomes were surprisingly fast, and much too small to be in real danger of being hit by the hooves. Instead they managed to dodge the horses very skilfully. “Can you train gnomes to do that?” Anne asked thoughtfully. “Not as far as I know,” Arsenio replied. “Pity,” Anne said.

“But you can bewitch them,” Patience grinned. “No, don’t bewitch either gnomes or horses,” Anne begged. “But Banks?” Patience asked. Hengist grabbed her right hand. “No, not even Banks,” he told her firmly. “C’mon, you’re no prefect any longer,” Patience wailed. “And you’re not Gryffindor’s little nuisance any longer, so keep your wand in your pocket, girl,” Hengist said unimpressed. “Spoilsport,” Patience murmured.

It turned out that Banks did not need to be jinxed. He could fall off his horse all by himself – his horse had accidentally hit a gnome, and the gnome had bit the horse’s ankle. Consequently, the horse bolted – and Banks fell off. “Three cheers for the brave gnome!” Anne yelled and Hengist and Patience laughed. Although Banks had been the first to fall off, the other riders suffered no other fate. One by one they fell. “Gnome polo – the team with the last rider mounted wins,” Arsenio said happily. “That’s stupid,” Anne said. Patience giggled. “Last man standing wins – it’s a bit like these drinking games people are talking about.” “Stupid first years are talking about, you mean,” Hengist added. Patience nodded.

The last man mounted was, to the Magpies’ and Arsenio’s delight and surprise, Orlando. But he, too, fell off his horse, and by the cry he emitted he hurt himself. When he limped over to his boss and friends, he was nevertheless grinning. “We won – and you’ve got rid of most of the gnomes, sir,” he added. Arsenio nodded and clapped Orlando’s shoulder. “Well done, Orlie, well done,” he beamed. Orlando winced. “Thank you, sir,” he managed to say. “Why don’t the gnomes come back?” Anne wanted to know. “They can’t stand a trampled lawn, and their memory, poor as it is, will still hold the smell of horses and the fact that horses are, if not dangerous, a real pain in the…” “We get the picture,” Hengist assured Orlando. “Great. It was fun, wasn’t it?” Orlando asked brightly. “But you’re hurt,” Patience said concerned. “Oh, just a few cracked ribs, nothing more,” Orlando waved it aside. “Nothing a little spell won’t heal. See you later!” And off he was.

“Shall we go home?” Hengist enquired. Patience nodded. “Yes. Enough sport for today. Listen, are you coming back to Hogwarts with me tomorrow? It’s Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff.” “No,” Anne immediately replied. “Yes,” Hengist said and smiled. “Fine,” Patience said contended. And so the Magpies walked home in perfect harmony.

To Wong Foo

“Ladies, tonight we will go out and we will have a lot of fun!” Hengist announced sitting down at the kitchen table. Patience and Anne looked up. Hengist only rarely called them ‘Ladies’. It was Hengist’s birthday and he had promised to take them out. “And where are we going?” “That will remain a secret but it will be absolutely necessary that you dress more beautiful than you have ever before.” That was all they could find out about the location. Their departure was scheduled for 7 p.m. and so they decided to get ready at six. Patience and Anne blocked the bathroom first. Patience had decided to wear a red mini skirt and a white see-through blouse. She combined those with black high-heels. Anne wore a long dark blue skirt and a dark green shirt. Her shoes had the colour of pearls.

“What do you think, where will he take us?” Anne asked applying some lipstick. Patience who currently tried to make her eyelashes more visible shrugged. “Maybe the opera?” Anne laughed. “Hengist and music?” Patience laughed as well it seemed too unlikely. “Why do we have to dress formally?” Patience asked. Anne shrugged. “Maybe we go bowling.” Patience laughed again. “Or a fast food restaurant.” “Girls, can I come in?” Hengist asked. “Yes.” They decided. Hengist entered. He wore a smoking. Patience’s and Anne’s mouths fell open. “What happened to you?” Patience asked. “Not even a pink shirt.” Anne observed. He wore a bright smile. “For you only the best.” “Hey and where is the compliment in return?” Patience reminded him. “I cannot express in words what feelings you cause in me.” “It would suffice if you lost consciousness.” Anne assured him. He laughed. He brushed his hair and looked at his two friends. “Good?” He wanted to know. “Handsome!” Anne said. “Breathtaking.” Patience added. The two young women left the bathroom.

A couple of minutes later they were all ready to go. Hengist opened the doors of the car for them. “Tonight, I’ll be your chauffeur.” “You better are, we don’t know where we are going.” Patience reminded him. “Right.” He said amused. “Actually, you could tell us now, it would be too late to run away.” Patience added. “I don’t know.” “What do you mean you don’t know?” Anne asked worried. “A friend of mine told me about it. And now we’re going there to check it out.” “What’s it called?” “Wong Foo.” He replied. “I’ve never heard of that.” Anne said. Patience shook her head. “No, me neither.” “Who told you about it?” Patience asked. “Frank did.” He replied. “Do you think we will meet Frank there?” Anne said hopefully. “I don’t know.” Hengist thought aloud. “He’s so good-looking. Did you ever notice his eyes?” She asked. “Well, I suspect he has some.” He joked. “Two to be precise and they are dark brown.” Patience sighed. “Girls, before you get too much lost in your daydreams, I should tell you. Frank is gay.” “You’re a liar, Hengist!” Patience protested. “I’m afraid not. I met him at the gay café and we talked a little.” He revealed. “Stop it, I don’t want to know more!” Anne interrupted him. “There hasn’t been much more anyway.” He stated.

For a while they drove silently. Until Hengist exclaimed: “There it is!” He stopped and parked the car a little further away. “It doesn’t look like…well, I don’t know, it doesn’t look like anything to be precise.” Patience said. Indeed it was a house just like all others in the street and maybe the whole town. “The address is correct.” He replied. “Maybe you got it wrong.” Anne thought aloud. He shook his head. “Frank wrote it down.” “Maybe he got it wrong in the first place?” Patience suggested. He shrugged. “We’ll try, they can send us away if we’re wrong.” He decided. They left the car and approached the building.

Hengist rang the bell. A man in a livery opened the door. He examined them from tip to toe. “You’re alright, come in, nice dress, foxy.” He commented. Patience frowned for a short moment but did not think further about this little incident. They entered a big salon. “Amazing!” Patience said. “Hengist, I hate you for not taking us here before, however, I love you for taking us here now.” Anne whispered. “Now, I know why Frank had told me to dress formally.” Hengist whispered. The room was filled with people wearing the most extravagant dresses and suits. The waiter led them to an empty table close to one of the windows. Hengist had requested this because Anne liked to gaze out of windows to watch people and animals.

At the moment, however, she did not think of looking outside because the inside was so fascinating that none of the three could spare some attention to talk. When the waiter had asked them to take the menu for the fourth time they reacted. Patience blushed heavily, while Anne was much too busy to continue her observations and Hengist ordered three sparkling waters. When the waiter had left Anne talked. “Do you see that man over there? The one in the pink suit, green boots and the large glasses? Isn’t that Elton John?” Hengist turned carefully. “Well, don’t know.” Patience shook her head. “But if that is Elton John than who is that man over there?” She indicated the respective direction. A man in a mint suit with orange stripes and a feather boa sat at one of the other tables. “It seems that here are many muggle celebrities.” She stated. The others followed her gaze and indeed it seemed as if they had come to a convention of stars: John Wayne, Dionne Warwick, Jamie Oliver, Judy Dench, Lawrence Olivier (though a slightly younger version of him),…

“What can I do for you?” The waiter had returned much too early for none of them had really checked the menu. “Sorry, sir, did we run into a motto party?” Anne asked. The waiter frowned. “No madam.” “Just as I thought.” Anne replied. “Could we have a little more time, we haven’t made up our mind yet, you have so many delicious things on offer.” The waiter cleared his throat. “Of course, sir.” He retreated. “I think he hates us.” Patience whispered watching him leave. “He will hate us if he returns and we still don’t know what we want.” Anne had already hidden behind the menu. Both Hengist and Patience followed her example. So when the waiter returned they ordered.

They tried to relax waiting for their meals to arrive. “Excuse me, my love, you simply have to tell my who is responsible for your style. It’s so chic!” An extremely tall woman had placed herself on the last empty chair at their table. She had long white-blond hair, endless eyelashes and cherry red lips. Her dress was champagne. “I’m awfully sorry, you don’t mind my sitting here, do you?” She asked before she continued. “You look so real, one could almost think you’re a lady.” She made a gesture of irony with her right hand. “I could almost get jealous.” She laughed. “And you, my love…” She touched Hengist’s suit for a moment. “Uuh, that guy is hot, I tell you!” She looked deep into his eyes before she turned towards Anne. “And who is that hidden flower, really, darling, you shouldn’t sit back there. It makes your appearance even darker. Or is that what you want? Well, some guys do prefer the dark sort.” Again she laughed. “But now I really must be off, Jean-Louis will get jealous, the waiters nowadays are so…” They couldn’t hear the rest for the woman was already back at her own table winking one last time at them.

Hengist began to feel uneasy. The waiter arrived with their food. “Let’s eat and then go home again.” He said quietly. “Go home again? Have you gone mad? Now that we start to have some fun?” Patience said unbelievingly. “Patience’s right, I want to stay as well.” Anne stated and looked rather stubborn. “Okay, just promise me to…” “Excuse me, but I couldn’t leave this room without asking this beauty to come to the bar for a short drink once the meal is finished.” A middle-tall man with brown hair and blue eyes asked Anne. “Sure.” She replied. The man smiled and left. “What did you want to say?” Patience asked. “Just promise me to turn down any invitations.” He sighed. “Uups, sorry, but why?” “The dessert, sir.” The waiter interrupted their conversation. “Yes, thank you.” He kept quiet until the waiter had left again.

Anne shook her head. “I will not turn down any invitation to please you, be it your birthday or no!” And contrary to her custom she left the table before the meal was finished. She joined the stranger at the bar. “Don’t worry, she doesn’t drink any alcohol.” “That’s not the problem, Patience.” He tried to explain. “Excusez moi! Can I trust my eyes? Did your companion dump you for that David?” It was the same lady as before. Only now Patience noticed her long black nails. “Jean-Louis, Jean-Louis…” The waiter approached them. “Jean-Louis, il faut que tu séparer leur ami et David!”

She turned back to Hengist and Patience. The waiter hurried off. “David will have no good influence on her. Half a minute with him can ruin your whole life.” Her hand moved downwards as she said this. “Here they come, Jean-Louis, our knight in shining armour did you save this innocent child?” The waiter bowed. “This innocent child was very well able to look through Monsieur David.” “Did you really!” She turned towards Anne. “Hooray for our young companion. I’ve never seen you here and yet it seems you know a lot about this place – you even got the best table. I must talk to Jean-Louis about that.” “We might know a lot, but, we certainly do not know your name.” Patience admitted and got kicked for that underneath the table. Anne thought their guest would almost blush – only almost. “You are too kind to ask me for my name. Esmeralda.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Patience this is Anne and next to you sits Hengist.” She introduced the whole group. “Patience! What a name – how did you choose that? I don’t have to wonder about Anne, certainly you are the adored and beloved Anne Shakespeare gave us – a queen from tip to toe!” She finally turned towards Hengist. “Hengist – could it be that this is your real name? That’s a Germanic name, isn’t it?” She asked winking her eye at him. “Yes, you’re right it has Germanic origins. How did you know?” Patience burst out. Hengist kicked her again. Anne had gone suspiciously quiet. “One knows a stallion when one meets one.” She grinned.

“Oh my god!” Anne exclaimed and hid her head in her hands. Patience bent down to her. “What is it?” “There’s Frank…he shouldn’t see us here.” Patience looked around. “I can’t see him.” She whispered. “Do you see the lady in the red dress?” “Yes, but I cannot see Frank anywhere around her!” “Patience, her is Frank!” Anne replied. She looked up as Esmeralda exclaimed: “FRANCESCA! COME AND SIT AT OUR TABLE.” They kissed. “You look gorgeous tonight!” Frank or rather Francesca said. Again Esmeralda made a rejecting gesture with her hand. “You’re always so kind, but look at yourself. Now you must tell me who your tailor is!” She insisted. “You won’t believe it but I do it myself.” He confessed. “Oh, dear, I love you for that. You must make a dress for me – no, not only one dress, a whole collection of dresses.” She paused for a short moment and all hopes of disappearing quietly disappeared, now Hengist, Anne and Patience had to stay. “You must meet my new friends! The one with the beautiful looks-like-real red hair is Patience. The dark beauty in the back is the real clever Anne and here to your left sits – hold your breath and all movable body parts – Hengist. New friends, this is my very old friend Francesca.”

“Actually, I know them already.” Frank said in his sweetest voice. Anne blushed heavily. “No, Francesca, why did you never introduce us! I hate you!” “My sweetest Esmeralda…” He drew her closer and whispered something into her ear. She laughed. “Pardonnez moi, I am so sorry. But isn’t it funny. We might have never met!” Esmeralda had dropped her French accent for the last part. “Actually I am the one to apologize.” Frank started. “I should have told Hengist what sort of club this is.” “Is everybody homosexual around here?” Patience asked in a whisper. Frank nodded. “And all are male.” Esmeralda added.

“I will take you home.” Hengist said and raised. “No.” Patience protested. “Now that we know what sort of place this is we will behave accordingly.” She announced. “Don’t you agree, my dearest Anne?” She smiled at her. “Absolutely, my darling pet.” “Very well, then that is settled!” Frank said happily. “Oh, you will absolutely love this place, later on they will be playing music. Everybody’s always dancing then. And of course I want to have a dance with the birthday boy.” She smiled at Hengist who nodded.

“Now, first of all we need an additional chair for Frank!” Anne announced. “Uuh! I’ll be off getting one. I’m so excited!” Esmeralda revealed. She lifted her hands high into the air and stepped away. “And she really is a man?” Anne asked in a whisper. “Oh as sure as I am.” Frank replied. Anne stared at him in his dress. “Well, you know what I usually look like.” He added.

Esmeralda returned with a chair. She put it on the floor and hopped back onto her own chair. She folded her hands on the table and looked merrily at the gathering. Nothing happened. “Well, what do you heterosexual people usually do?” She wanted to know. Anne choked. “I think it isn’t that different from what other people do.” Patience replied. “Ooh.” Esmeralda sat back and seemed to be a little disappointed.

The music started an kept Esmeralda from getting sad. “That’s our cue!” She announced and dragged Hengist onto the dance floor. “Honestly, I’m sorry that you are here. I thought Hengist would come alone one day. I didn’t know that his birthday was so close at hand and that he would take you out.” “That’s okay, it’s not that bad here.” Patience replied. Anne nodded and tried to hide a grin. “Yes, obviously you are having fun making fun.” He observed. “If you were like us you wouldn’t think it strange at all.” Anne shook her head.

“We didn’t know you were gay.” She suddenly replied. He blushed a little. “Well, it’s nothing you go around telling everybody.” He admitted. She nodded. “It took Hengist quite a long time to tell us.” Patience reported. “Yes, we talked about it. He said you were really great friends and would not run around gossiping…” He looked up at them, quite shyly as Anne thought. “We won’t tell anyone.” She promised. He was very relieved. “Do you have a boy-friend?” Patience burst out. “No, heaven no. I mean, I haven’t been gay for too long, I mean I, not openly, you know. Esmeralda is an old friend of mine. She took me here, that’s how I…” “You don’t have to defend yourself.” Patience assured him. Again he blushed. “Sorry, I haven’t quite gotten used to it.” “No, we neither.” They laughed.

Hengist and Esmeralda returned to the table. “That was lovely. Absolutely lovely.” She told everyone. “Then I can go and have a dance now, can I?” Frank asked. “Feel free, I will take care of our young lambs and let no wolf come to close.” Esmeralda formed a paw with her hand and hissed. “Anne, will you dance with me?” Frank had placed himself in front of her. “Now, you better be careful, I think he has already broken one or two girl’s hearts. I wouldn’t dance with him if I were you.” Esmeralda warned her half jokingly. “But how could I resist such a lady?” Anne asked jokingly in reply and got up.

Esmeralda sighed. “Isn’t it beautiful.” “The couple?” Patience asked in disbelief. “Francesca’s dress…she really has to do a dress for me. You should never keep such a talent just for yourself, don’t you think so?” Patience shrugged. “I don’t think you have less beautiful clothes in your wardrobe judging from the one you’re wearing right now.” Hengist told Esmeralda. “Oh, isn’t he a dear, darling?” Esmeralda asked Patience who could do nothing but nod.

Flordelis and Violanta

Patience was enjoying a quiet afternoon at Alberbury, lazing in the spring sun during the Easter holidays, when suddenly an owl landed right on her head. “Come down there,” she laughed. The owl hooted happily and stepped down to Patience’s shoulder, then held out its leg. Patience sighed. “Alright, you’re up to jokes, I see. Come.” She detached the letter and the owl took off, circling the lawn once, then catching up speed. Patience grinned. “Let’s see, who’s written?”

Cara mia, piccola rossa, I urgently need your help. Kindly come to Oxford at once, yes? I have already invited your two friends, too. A. C.

Patience read the letter a second time. “What can be so urgent?” she wondered aloud. Suddenly something dropped down onto her head. Patience looked up from the letter and saw that a tiny model of a Quidditch player had taken a surely fatal fall from the first floor window. Oliver’s head appeared presently. “Someone’s tampered my pitch model – and how am I to do tactics now?” he asked angrily. Patience stretched her arms over her head and yawned. “No idea. Listen, I’ll sort it out when I’m back – a friend needs me to help him. I might be some days, perhaps. Tell mum and dad not to worry, I’m at Oxford.” Before Oliver could stop his sister, Patience had disapparated.

 

She apparated in the middle of Sweet Italy. As Arsenio had announced, Hengist and Anne were already there. “Hi. Enjoying your holidays?” Patience asked cheerfully. Anne shrugged, and Hengist sighed deeply. “My dad said we would visit Peter – but,” he added much more cheerfully, “since Arsenio called with his emergency, I’m out of the scheme this year!” “Lucky you,” Anne said darkly. “When I’m home again, Glenda will bore me to death again with her Grand Tour stories and where she bought which dress and how people lay at her feet.” “What, they tripped over their own feet? Gosh, she must have looked ridiculous,” Patience giggled. Anne burst into laughter. “Aw, Patience, I can never take her seriously now!” “As if you had taken her seriously before,” Hengist snorted.

They had to stop their discussion, for Arsenio came rushing out of the kitchen, calling: “But Orlando, you should have told me my saviours have come!” Orlando hurried after his boss. “I didn’t see them earlier than you,” he defended himself. “He really didn’t. What has happened?” Anne asked Arsenio, who mopped his sweaty forehead with a huge pink handkerchief. “Such an event – and everyone has gone crazy!” Arsenio sighed. “I need to sit down.”

“An event?” Hengist asked. “Yes, yes, yes. My sister has come to visit me. She has brought my favourite niece, her eldest daughter, Violanta.” Arsenio groaned and motioned Orlando closer. “You tell them, boy.” “Me? Oh, alright,” Orlando said. “Violanta’s our age, you see, and she’s fallen in love with a young man. They want to marry. Only Violanta’s mum and the bridegroom’s dad don’t want them to marry – and neither does Arsenio,” Orlando summed up the tale.

“And where can we be of help?” Patience asked puzzled. “Just talk to Violanta and her bridegroom. They must not marry, that’s the thing. Just talk to them. I told them you would meet them at the gate to Christ Church to give them a tour. Off with you, you’re already late,” Arsenio said briskly and shooed the Magpies out of his shop. Hengist turned around in the door. “Arsenio, do you really think this is a good idea?” “Yes, yes, of course. Mentha would kill me if I didn’t try everything in my power to stop this wedding!” Arsenio said and gave Hengist an unceremonious little push that transported the young man onto the street.

“This is just strange, isn’t it?” Anne pondered. “It’s so medieval. I mean, we live in the 20^th century, and people can marry whom they like,” Patience said heatedly. “Well, I bet your parents wouldn’t be happy if your chosen bridegroom would be a man much older than you and unpleasant to the utmost,” Hengist threw in. “Yes, but they would have to cope with it, wouldn’t they?” Patience retorted. Anne raised an eyebrow. “My mum wants my sister and me to marry well – in other words, marry either money or fame and preferably both.”

They turned the corner and saw a young woman in a flowery summer dress leaning against the wall. There was no sign of a companion. “Hello. Are you Violanta?” Hengist asked kindly. “Yes. You must be Hengist, Anne and Patience, right?” Violanta said and they shook hands. Arsenio’s niece was very pretty. She had long, smooth black hair and the bluest eyes the Magpies had ever seen. “Arsenio sent us to show you around – you and someone else,” Anne explained. “I know. Flordelis is just asking for some postcards to send to his family,” Violanta said, then waved enthusiastically. “Flor! Over here!” The man who came striding towards them was breathtakingly good-looking. He was suntanned, his eyes were grey and his hair was an untidy mass of blond curls. When he smiled, he revealed perfect teeth, and his laughter made you laugh as well.

“Hi. I’m Flordelis Erskine. Nice to meet you.” “Flor comes from California,” Violanta said proudly. “We met when I was studying at the Salem Witches’ Institute. He came over to give a class in Theoretical Cursebreaking.” “Yes. I’m a Cursebreaker for Analogue Ltd., the American Wizarding bank,” Flordelis explained. “Cool. I’m Anne Symmons, this is Hengist Alret, and that’s Patience Wood. We’re doing Advanced Muggle Studies here at Oxford,” Anne introduced. “We’re here to marry. Let’s have a look at the cathedral – it would be so romantic to marry here, don’t you think, Viola?”

Violanta nodded. But no sooner had they turned to enter Christ Church’s grounds when a shrill voice called out: “Violanta Beaversham, will you come back home at once?” The five turned around, and Patience had to fight the urge to laugh. There stood a tiny woman who was nearly as wide as she was high, wearing all black. Her black hair was turned into a tight knot at the back of her head, and she was wearing spectacles. She was swinging a black handbag in Flordelis’ direction in a menacing way. “Mamma, don’t,” Violanta begged. “Don’t behave like a common girl, then, Violanta Beaversham,” Mentha Crumlum-Beaversham told her daughter angrily.

Then she realized that not only Flordelis Erskine was accompanying her daughter. “Oh. You must be the friends Arsenio called for help,” she said. “Quite nice to meet you,” she excluded Flordelis demonstratively from her greeting. “And you,” Hengist said politely. “Yes. Nevertheless, you must postpone the sightseeing tour. Violanta has to come with me and help her uncle and her second cousin once removed. No, that’s a fine young man,” Mentha said acidly. Flordelis grimaced. Violanta knew that she had to give in. “We’ll do the tour tomorrow. See you,” she said. “See you,” the others echoed and watched Mentha dragging her daughter away.

“Do you know Violanta’s cousin?” Flordelis asked. “Yes. Orlie’s no match for you, at least not if Violanta’s looks at you are to be judged,” Anne told the young man. “Why is Mrs Beaversham so ghastly?” Patience enquired. Flordelis laughed hollowly. “Can we go somewhere private? I’ll tell you the whole story.” “Let’s go to our house – and yes, I did bring the keys,” Hengist said, interpreting the shocked glances of Patience and Anne correctly.

None of them spoke on their way to Magpie Lane. When Hengist had opened the door and called out if Lisa was there – you never knew where she spent her holidays -, Anne led Flordelis into the living room and offered him a seat. “Do you want something to drink?” Hengist asked. “Yes, a glass of water would be kind,” Flordelis answered. Hengist nodded and soon returned with four glasses of water and a bowl of biscuits. Patience grinned. “Thanks,” she said. Hengist shrugged and took a biscuit. He could as well munch biscuits while Flordelis told his tale, couldn’t he?

“Alright. Well. Violanta’s mum is a widow. My dad is a widower. I’ve got no siblings, but Violanta has four younger sisters and brothers. Since her uncle Arsenio has no children at all, her mum thought that if Violanta married her uncle’s apprentice Arsenio would one day give her the shop.” “Orlie will destroy it before long,” Anne giggled. “I don’t know about that. I only know that when we met, I knew I had never seen a more perfect creature than Viola. I want to marry her and be with her for the rest of my life. She’s a miracle,” Flordelis revealed. None of the Magpies knew what to answer.

After some minutes, Patience spoke: “But that’s not the whole reason why Mrs Beaversham is so furious, is it?” Flordelis smiled bitterly. “No. Smart, you are, Patience. The real reason is, I suppose, my dad.” “Your dad?” Anne asked surprised. Flordelis nodded. “My dad is Amyas Erskine III., one of the three great warlocks of Analogue. He met Mentha one day, and they seemed to really like each other, until word reached Mentha that dad thought she was just hunting for a good fortune for her family.” “Well, it’s natural a mother wants to marry her daughters well,” Anne said sarcastically. Patience grinned. “Sure. An old man, preferably mortally ill, with a large fortune must be in want of a mother-in-law.” Hengist and Flordelis laughed.

“Anyway, dad forbid me to meet Viola, and Mentha forbid her to meet me, and now we decided to marry, both of them go berserk. That’s why Mentha shipped Viola off to England to have uncle Arsenio talk her into marrying that apprentice of his. I followed, of course, and so here we are.” Flordelis leaned forward. “And if you three try to talk me out of marrying Viola, I’ll be gone.” “We don’t,” Hengist said quickly, and the girls nodded. “We are going to help you,” Anne promised. “I’ll talk to Orlie,” Patience suggested. “Why?” Hengist asked. Patience smiled mischievously. “Because I can easily persuade him to do a bit of acting.” “I’ll take on Arsenio,” Anne resolved. “Yeah, and I’m certainly good with mothers-in-law, don’t you think?” Hengist asked coquettishly. “Especially as their daughters are so completely safe of you,” Patience laughed. Hengist nodded. “Trust us, we’ll get you married. All for love, right?” “Yes. All for love,” Flordelis replied warmly and gratefully.

 

Patience knocked at the backdoor of Sweet Italy. As expected, Orlie opened the door. “Hi. Do you have a moment?” Patience asked, treating Orlando to her most charming smile. Orlando threw a glance over his shoulder, then nodded and closed the door behind him. “What is it?” “It’s about your cousin Violanta,” Patience revealed. Orlando laughed. “She’s some kind of relation, but not as close as a cousin. What about her, then?” “Do you like her?” Patience asked. “What? Yeah, of course.” But he did not look very interested in the subject. Patience nodded satisfied. “So you are not in love with her?” “Patience! Are you totally off your rocker?” Orlando exclaimed. “No. Your whatever-she-is Mrs Beaversham wants you to marry Violanta,” Patience told him. Orlando sat down on the stairs and shook his head. “Good lord, no,” he groaned.

“Exactly Violanta’s thoughts,” Patience said cheerfully and sat down next to Orlando. “Violanta wants to marry, but not you.” “I know. I talked to Flordelis last night,” Orlando said miserably. “Oh. Really?” Patience asked. “Yes. And no, I was not in love with Viola, never. We practically grew up like sister and brother, Patience. And I want to help her now,” Orlando said. Patience smiled broadly. “That’s very, very good, my dear Orlie. Flor has asked a priest to marry them tomorrow, and we’ve got the short time in between to reconcile everyone.” “And what can I do?” Orlie enquired. “You can marry me instead – just joking,” Patience added hastily. Orlando laughed out loud.

“Okay. I marry you, and then?” “Just ask me to marry you, when everyone else is in earshot. That’s one obstacle removed, because surely Mrs Beaversham can’t watch you and me and Viola and Flor at the same time,” Patience explained. Orlando nodded. “Sounds good. But Arsenio knows we are not in love,” he pointed out. “Anne takes care of him. Come on, Arsenio is such a sweet man, he will do anything for love, right?” Patience asked the young man. “Sure. Come to the shop this afternoon, I’ll have everything prepared by then,” Orlando said thoughtfully. “Okay. See you,” Patience said and kissed Orlando quickly on the cheek. He grinned. “I can’t wait to see you again,” he told her and Patience laughed.

 

Anne was meanwhile sitting at the counter of Sweet Italy and enjoyed a hot chocolate. “What did you put in there?” she asked. “Oh, just a bit of ground almonds and a bit of secret, yes?” Arsenio laughed. “It’s perfect. Listen, I’m here on business,” Anne began. Arsenio put down the sugar roses he was just arranging on a three-level-cake. “Really? How can I help you?” “You can do your niece a huge favour,” Anne said candidly. Arsenio groaned. “You just don’t know Mentha! My sister can be quite as intimidating as our dear mamma, bless her soul. Mentha has told me I should tell Viola not to marry that kind young man, and so I did although my heart is bleeding for them.” The poor man actually wiped a tear out of the corner of his eye.

“Poor Arsenio! I know a way how you can help them,” Anne told him and rummaged in her bag for a handkerchief. She handed it to Arsenio who blew his nose forcefully. “But how, my dear? How should I do that? Mentha will go mental if she gets wind of this,” Arsenio said miserably. “No she won’t. Hengist is talking to her, and Patience and Orlando have an additional plan, and Flordelis is perhaps working up his courage to talk to his dad. Tomorrow there will be a wedding, my dear, dear Arsenio,” Anne assured her friend who grasped her hand. “You are really the most wonderful creature in the world,” he vowed. Then he turned and began to fill biscuits and chocolates into a huge bag. “That’s for all of you, to keep up your nerves.”

 

Hengist was the one who had the most problems with his charge. Not that he had had any trouble of being admitted into Mrs Beaversham’s sitting room. But she was indeed a formidable woman, and her stern eyes were like blocks of ice. “Mrs Beaversham, your daughter is really a very nice young woman,” Hengist said awkwardly after they had talked about the weather for some minutes. “So she is. Hm. Mr Alret, do your parents own a lot of money?” Mrs Beaversham asked. Hengist was startled. “Erm… no. Not actually,” he stammered. Mrs Beaversham nodded grimly. “That’s good. You are allowed to court Violanta if you want to – if you’re as poor then I can get rid of my image as a fortune hunter!”

“How can anyone think you a fortune hunter?” Hengist asked surprised. Mentha Crumlum-Beaversham snorted. “Ask Amyas Erskine III. He is the most conceited, the most self-important person in the world, so you will know it is him when you see a man crushing his inferiors under his heel!“ “Mrs Beaversham, I’m sure you and Mr Erskine have the same ideas about the fortune of your children: they shall live happily ever after,” Hengist pointed out. Mentha nodded. “See? And it seems that they will only live happily ever after if they are together. Violanta and Flordelis love each other, don’t you see?” “Yes. I see. It’s like me and my Timothy, bless his soul. Meant to be forever,” Mrs Beaversham sighed.

“But my dear Mrs Beaversham, why then do you put stones into Violanta’s way?” Hengist exclaimed. Mentha looked at him as if she suddenly realized what was at stake. “You are right. I should not – but then, I practically asked Arsenio that Violanta can marry Orlando and have this shop when my brother retires…” “I am sure there will be a solution to that problem, too,” Hengist said confidently. “I trust you are right,” Mentha sighed.

 

That afternoon, they all met as if by chance in Sweet Italy. The Magpies had huddled together so that they could watch everyone’s faces. Orlando winked at Patience. Flordelis arrived in company with a small, wizened old man. “Dad, those are my new friends,” Flordelis said. Amyas Erskine III. looked at the Magpies and nodded. “Fine, fine. And where is Mentha Beaversham? I think I need to talk to her,” Amyas said. “She’ll be there soon, I believe,” Flordelis assured his father. “Good. Splendid.”

Arsenio served coffee and hot chocolate to everyone. Then Mentha and Violanta arrived. At exactly the same moment, Orlando raised his cup and shouted: “Silence, everyone!” It was a stupid thing to say because nobody had been talking anyway. But it served its purpose since every head turned to the young man. He held a red rose in his hand and now approached Patience. “Patience, my love, will you marry me?” he asked rather breathlessly. “Oh, Orlie!” Patience exclaimed and hugged him. Everyone cheered and clapped, and when Amyas asked what the answer had been, Hengist said at once: “She said yes, of course.”

Mrs Beaversham hurried to Orlando. “Dear, dear boy, good lord, had I known about you and the young lady I would never have asked you to marry Viola. I am so sorry. You don’t take any offence, do you?” she asked. “No, auntie, of course not,” Orlando said amused. “And you must accept my apologies as well, Patience,” Mrs Beaversham said warmly. Patience smiled. “Oh, of course, of course, I always knew I could trust my Orlie.” “That you can, he’s a good boy,” Mentha boasted.

“Yeah, as we’re already in such a romantic mood…,” Flordelis said. “Violanta and me are going to get married tomorrow. You can choose. Either you come and celebrate with us, or you sulk at home. But we will be together, and we will be happy – but we would be so much happier if you could be happy for us.” Anne smiled at Patience who had to suppress a fit of the giggles. “Such a happy day,” Hengist whispered and the Magpies lapsed into silent laughter. Arsenio raised a huge cake covered in thousands of silvery flowers. “And I’ve already made a nice wedding cake, so, if you want to taste it, you need to attend the wedding.”

“Well, well, well,” said Mentha and smiled at her daughter. “Such an outrageous behaviour. Such an outrageous thing to arrange a wedding without asking the parents.” “But not unheard of,” said Amyas. “No, certainly not. I think, Amyas, we cannot stand in the children’s way,” Mentha thought aloud. Amyas smiled. “No, we cannot do that. And I am really sorry I made you feel like a fortune hunter. But I got a call from an abysmal woman that very afternoon Flordelis wanted to tell me about Violanta. The woman lives in Cumbria, I think, and she told me that she had two eligible daughters. One could marry me and one Flordelis. I was so outraged that I simply was not prepared to be charitable to any mother and her daughter. Can you forgive me, Mentha?” Mentha sighed. “Oh, Amyas, of course I can. Of course.” And she embraced him and kissed him on the cheek.

“Uh-oh, let’s get married before they do and make it illegal,” Flordelis joked and everyone laughed. That covered the fact that Anne had gone all pale. Patience and Hengist stared at her. “Do I understand correctly that your mother is responsible for this mess?” Hengist whispered. Anne nodded feebly. “Honestly, that’s ridiculous,” Patience shook her head. Anne sighed. “Can I please get a new family?” “I doubt this is possible, but you’ve got us and Charlie Weasley,” Hengist said slyly. “Oh, you,” Anne only said half angrily.

“It seems we will celebrate a wedding tomorrow. You must come, too,” Violanta said fervently. Patience shook her head. “No, we can’t. It’s Easter, and our families expect us home.” Violanta turned to Arsenio. “And you called them here for us, although they are wanted at home? Oh, uncle!” She hugged Arsenio tightly. “I guess we should leave now,” Anne said discreetly. She just wanted to leave before Amyas Erskine blurted out her mother’s name.

When the Magpies were about to leave, Orlando called: “Patience!” She turned around. “Although I don’t intend to marry you, you said a very true thing to day. You can trust me. Any time.” Patience nodded. “Thank you. I really do appreciate that.” Then she hurried after Hengist and Anne. “And what do we do now?” Anne asked excited. “Go home and celebrate Easter – I can even make it in time to make fun about Peter,” Hengist laughed.

 

As soon as Patience had returned to Alberbury, Oliver presented her with his model of the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch and the tiny players usually zooming around it. “Where have you been?” Joan asked her daughter. “Well, I helped Mr Crumlum to marry off his favourite niece. It was a bit difficult, you see,” Patience told her mother. “Right. Have your little secret parties, that’s perfectly alright at your age,” Joan smiled. “But I’m telling the truth – and it was no secret party, I bet it will be all over the Prophet by tomorrow,” Patience protested. Joan nodded. “Just don’t get yourself into trouble.”

“Mum, please! Patience was going to repair my Quidditch model, so…!” Oliver said sharply. Joan looked sternly at her son. “You should concentrate on your essays rather than on your Quidditch team.” “Mum!” Patience and Oliver said at once, sounding so shocked Joan had to laugh. “I’m defeated. Get it right, or else we’ll have to take it to Ryan’s Ready Repairs.” “And we all know how he messed up dad’s car,” Patience muttered. Joan chose to ignore that and vanished into the living room. Patience and Oliver went upstairs into Oliver’s room.

Patience examined the model closely. There was nothing visible, but she decided to check for jinxes. “Verres, what exactly doesn’t work?” she asked thoughtfully. “Once I set the Gryffindor players going, they zoom off into all directions and no controlling them,” Oliver complained. “And the opponents?” “Form a circle and seem to cheer,” Oliver said furiously. “Whoa. Nice idea, sounds as if Fred and George could be behind it,” Patience said amused. “No. They’re Beaters. They wouldn’t let anyone criticise the team or make fun of us,” Oliver said indignantly. “Okay. Whom have you played last?” Patience asked. “Slytherin,” Oliver said grimly. “What about the Slytherin captain?” “Who, Flint? No way, he’s too thick for it,” Oliver replied.

Patience scowled. “Well, certainly someone tampered with it. I’ll see to it. Specialis revelio!” There was a great cracking noise and Oliver stared open-mouthed at his model. Patience grimaced. Then a cloud of yellowish smoke emerged from the middle of the pitch and formed the word Mobilimixus. Patience blinked. “That’s a first-year-jinx,” she said slowly. “It’s still beyond Flint’s abilities,” Oliver assured her. “Yeees,” Patience said and tapped the model with her wand once again. But the spell did not alter, nor did a second spell appear.

“Okay. That’s easy to repair, but first I want to know who was behind it,” Patience decided. “Don’t break it, Helena,” her brother warned her. “Of course not, and as mum said, we can always let Ryan have a look,” Patience said absent-mindedly. Oliver shot her an angry glance and watched her every move. Patience carefully took a small Quidditch chaser into her palm. It wriggled a little, until Patience softly stroked its head. “Calm down, you’ll be back flying in no time. Just tell me… Speculo!” Oliver bent forward. Just as they had anticipated, a tiny image appeared in the eyes of the Quidditch player. It was the image of a blond girl with a malicious smile on her face.

“Do you know, I would have thought it beyond her as well,” Patience said casually. “Who is that?” Oliver wondered. “Seraphia Banks, of course. Roland’s sister. She’s awful, but I would have thought she’d keep a low profile after the orchid-thing.” “She is keeping a low profile. I guess she was just angry with me having been so rude to block each of Flint’s shots,” Oliver boasted. Patience grinned. “Shall I repair it?” “Yes, please – oh, and I’ll deal with Seraphia,” Oliver added hurriedly, knowing his sister would love nothing better than to come to Hogwarts to wreak a little havoc.

“As you wish. Restaro,” Patience shrugged, touched the model, and suddenly all the players assumed their usual hovering position, awaiting Oliver’s instructions. “Thanks, Helena,” Oliver said relieved. “You’re welcome. Just make sure you turn seventeen real soon, for I’m sick of having to do all the magic for you here,” Patience joked. Oliver did not listen, he was already prodding his players to try out various tactics. Finally, Patience thought. Finally I can enjoy a quiet Easter holiday afternoon.

John Balliol's Gentlemen's Club

“Hengist? Where are you?” Anne called. Nobody answered. Anne frowned. It was Wednesday afternoon, and usually Hengist was at home then. “Hengist!” she called again. This time a head popped up – Lisa, leaning over the banister. “He’s gone out,” she informed Anne. “And you didn’t try to go with him?” Anne asked. Lisa laughed. “Not where he was going, no,” she said and disappeared again. Anne shook her head. “And where might that be? The library?” she muttered angrily.

A key turned in the door and Anne hoped that Hengist was back, most probably laden with books. But it was Patience, looking as if someone had tried to drown her. “I forgot my umbrella,” she explained. “You’re leaving puddles on the carpet – and you’re going to have a hell of a cold if you don’t go and change your clothes,” Anne scolded her friend. Patience laughed. “But it was fun, Anne, honestly,” she said. Anne only put on her most angry scowl. “Alright, alright, mummy, I’ll do what you say,” Patience said and ran upstairs, splashing Lisa with some rain from her wet hair. Lisa took a deep breath. “Hasn’t anyone told her yet that there’s a marvellous invention called umbrella?” “No, only she forgot it,” Anne replied absent-mindedly.

“Lisa, where can Hengist be?” “Why do you need him right now?” Lisa enquired. Anne was at a loss. How could she explain her fight with the washing machine in the kitchen? It did not work. At least not the way she wanted it to. It had finally stopped eating socks, alright, but still it did not work. This time it had produced loads of foam and flooded the kitchen – but Anne had done some magic to clean it up, careful to close the blinds so that even curious neighbours had no chance witnessing it. As Dicket had not popped up, things were most probably fine. “I have to hand in an essay tomorrow, and I gave Hengist the book I need now but I can’t find it,” Anne finally settled on saying.

“Oh dear, that’s bad,” Lisa sympathized. “Alright, Anne, he’s gone with that Robert Carlysle to John Balliol’s Gentlemen’s Club. Over at Balliol College.” Anne nodded grimly. “Then I’ll go and ask him,” she decided. Lisa shook her head. “It’s a gentlemen’s club, forget going there. You can only wait.” Anne stared at the Muggle. “But I need this book right now,” she said. Lisa sighed. “Sure, but it’s impossible.” “You wait and see what’s impossible,” Anne said mutinously and went to fetch her jacket.

“Where are you going?” Patience, who had just come back down, asked curiously. “Fetch Hengist from Balliol College,” Anne replied. “I’m coming with you,” Patience suggested. Anne shook her head. “You had better stay in and drink a hot tea. I’ll do that alone – I do know how to find my way to Balliol and back again.” Patience shrugged. “Alright,” she conceded. After all, it was still pouring outside and to sit on the sofa, writing an essay and having a hot tea was the nicer alternative.

 

Anne made her way through the deserted streets, her umbrella the only protection from the cold rain that seemed bent on drowning Oxford. Rivulets were running down the streets, huge puddles invited ducks to settle and only the occasional dog with its owner was to be seen. On days like these, dog owners really were to be pitied, having to take their pets for a walk. Lucky for the Magpies not to have a pet. Anne grinned to herself and hurried on.

There was only a very small sign telling the way to the Gentlemen’s Club, but Anne found it quickly. She knocked, using the lion head brass knocker. “Rather posh,” she said to herself. The door swung open noiselessly and there was the enquiring, polite face of an elderly man dressed in a tuxedo and carrying a silver tray. “Yes, madam?” he asked. “I am here to see Mr Hengist Alret,” Anne explained. The butler’s face crumbled into a perfect display of compassion. “Oh, I am deeply sorry, madam, but that is impossible.” “Oh, isn’t he here?” Anne asked surprised. “I am sure Mr Alret is here, madam,” the butler replied. “So, why don’t I just pop in and see him for a minute?” Anne suggested. The wind was beginning to drive the rain to splatter against her back. “Madam, this is a gentlemen’s club. I am afraid ladies are not permitted to enter.” How could the butler stay so impassive while Anne was beginning to feel like being tortured? “Why?” she asked. “It is tradition, madam,” the butler explained. “But it’s pouring, and I really need to speak to Mr Alret. Can’t you perhaps call him out? Isn’t there a room that I might wait for him without entering your club?” The butler listened, and his face grew even more compassionate. “Madam, it really is a dreadful weather, but I cannot allow you in. I suggest you had better leave now. Good day, madam.” And with that the door closed just as noiselessly as it had opened, leaving Anne stunned.

She worked herself up into a white hot fury while stomping back to 3, Magpie Lane, splashing through puddles heedless of the water. Lisa and Patience were sitting in the living room, Patience looking over an essay of Lisa’s and pointing out what she thought not quite appropriate. They looked up, however, when Anne entered. “This is an outrage!” Anne shouted.

“What?” Patience asked bewildered. “Do you know where Hengist is?” Anne asked. Patience shook her head. “In a club where women are not even allowed to enter when the rain is drowning them,” Anne revealed. Lisa nodded. “I told you it was useless,” she pointed out. “Thanks, how very helpful you are,” Anne spat. “Go and change,” Patience calmly said. Anne glared at her friend, turned on her heels and went upstairs.

“What’s this club?” Patience asked. Lisa laughed. “It’s one of the traditional men’s societies, don’t ask me why they like those that much. In former times, men used to smoke and discuss politics there and so on.” “I see. Like the clubs in London, then?” Patience asked thoughtfully, tapping her nose with her finger. “Exactly. What are you thinking of?” “Why not dress up and find out what’s going on in there?” Patience asked slowly. Lisa frowned. “No way,” she said. “Why?” Patience enquired. She began to really like her idea. “Because, Patience, you can get expelled for that,” Lisa said gravely. Patience thought her idea not quite as good now. “Alright, then we’ve got to wait for Hengist to tell us,” she sighed.

Only, when Hengist came home, he was not very talkative. He cut off every question with a huge yawn and a demonstrative glance on his watch: “Girls, I’ve got to finish that dull essay on the Huguenots. See you tomorrow.” Anne and Patience were left behind in speechless outrage. Lisa giggled. “Haven’t I told you? Those so-called gentlemen keep their secrets very, very secret. I often wonder if they consume hard drugs there.” “More like hard tobacco,” Patience murmured, sniffing at the sleeve of Hengist’s jacket.

“Doesn’t really matter – I intend to have a look at it,” Anne declared mutinously. Lisa shook her head. “Listen, you two, I’m off now – but don’t go there. You don’t want to be expelled, do you?” “No,” Patience assured her. Lisa looked sceptical, but put on her jacket and left, no doubt for a date. “And us two beauties, we are going to dress up now,” Anne said and her eyes were beaming. “Alright,” Patience sighed. “But I tell you, Polyjuice Potion would be much more effective than dressing up.”

Anne, already on the first step, turned. “What did you say?” she asked. Patience shrugged. “I said dressing up was less effective than Polyjuice Potion.” “Do you have some ready made?” “Yes, of course, but I need to make some more next full moon,” Patience replied. “But you know we need a hair or something like that for the transformation!” “Yes, and I also know exactly which hair we will take,” Anne said and laughed. “A pity, but we need to postpone our visit until tomorrow night, and let’s hope Hengist doesn’t want to go there then.”

 

The next evening, Hengist locked himself up in his room, claiming the essay needed polishing. “More like his headache needs polishing,” Anne remarked mercilessly. “The better for us,” she added. Patience nodded and handed her a cup filled with an ugly brownish liquid. “Cheers,” she said and added a hair to her potion. Anne followed suit. They both drained their cups and had to work up all their self-discipline not to get sick. “You look weird,” Anne said and her voice sounded not like her voice at all. “You, too,” Patience replied, sounding like some completely different person. “Off we go!”

They walked over to Balliol College, nodding to passing people and feeling like real gentlemen. At the door of the Club, Anne knocked. “Ah, Mr Alret, please come in. And may I ask who it is that you brought with you?” the butler asked, bowing his head respectfully. Anne would have loved to kick the man for his former behaviour to her, but instead answered: “This is Mr Bloomer, a friend of mine.” “Welcome, Mr Bloomer. What do you intend to do today?” the butler asked, taking their jackets from Anne and Patience.

Anne and Patience exchanged a glance. “Yes, well, actually I wanted to show Mr Bloomer around, but maybe it is better when you do that job, eh?” “Oh, of course, Mr Alret. Mr Bloomer, my name is Benjamin, and I am at your service whenever you need me. I take it you are one of us?” Patience was at a loss of what to say and looked at Anne for help. “Of course,” Anne said and smiled reassuringly. “Very good. Follow me, then.” Benjamin lead the way, and Patience whispered: “One of us? One of whom?” Anne shrugged. “No idea. We’ll find out.”

What they found out first was that the club was pretty harmless. There was a library with books for leisure-time reading. There was a bar where the men could smoke and talk and drink. And there was a little snack bar where they could eat something nice. That was all. It was not spectacular at all. “Have you got any wish, Mr Alret, Mr Bloomer?” Benjamin asked politely. “No, thank you, Benjamin,” Anne answered. “Very well then. Have a nice time.” Benjamin retreated discreetly, and Anne and Patience sat down at a small table. “I still have no clue what ‘one of us’ means,” Patience remarked and looked around. “Men?” Anne asked doubtfully.

“Yes, and we look like women – in about fifteen minutes,” Patience joked. “Oh right,” Anne said and jumped up. “Maybe we had better go to fetch the books,” she said loud enough for the other men present to explain her movement. “Why don’t you just summon them?” called one. “Yeah, and say what? Come, books, come?” Anne asked derisively. “No. But maybe Alret can’t do it without the help of that little girlfriend of his who summons her cat,” laughed another one. Patience’s mouth fell open. “Merlin’s beard,” she breathed. “What? You’re a friend of Alret’s, and you don’t know that story?” a third man asked and laughed.

“No,” Patience quickly said. “Then tell him one day, Alret. But honestly, why not summon the books?” the first man asked. “They are on my desk at home. What do you think will the Muggles say when a stack of books flies past them in the street?” Anne retorted. Suddenly Patience felt her hair grow down her neck. “Uh-oh,” she said. “Arsenio’s waiting for me. Bye,” she said hurriedly and dragged Anne out.

It took Benjamin ages to find their jackets, and when he returned, he dropped them. “How did you get in here? And where are Mr Alret and Mr Bloomer?” the butler asked. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead. “Never in the whole history of this club has a woman entered these sacred halls,” he added, wiping his forehead hectically. “Well, we did not really enter as women,” Anne tried to console the old man. “How?” Benjamin croaked. “Polyjuice Potion,” Patience confessed. “So at least you are of our kind. At least,” Benjamin sighed. “I must beg you to leave, of course, ladies. And never dare to enter again. And tell Mr Alret he is not welcome any longer. Should Mr Bloomer ever aspire to become a member, he will be refused. Goodbye.”

The door closed behind the stunned girls. “How are we going to tell Hengist?” Patience asked. “I’ve no idea. But do you know, we look odd.” Nothing could be more true than that. Both Anne and Patience wore jeans and shirts – men’s jeans and men’s shirts, and they were decidedly too big for both of them. “Better hurry home,” Patience decided, and they began to jog.

 

At home, Hengist opened the door before Anne could produce her keys. “What have you done?” he asked furiously. “Been out,” Patience answered and tried to squeeze past him. “No way, missy,” Hengist snapped and folded his arms defiantly. He let the girls stand outside. “I’ve just received an owl. Benjamin tells me I am not permitted in the Balliol club any longer.” Anne and Patience looked down simultaneously.

“We’re sorry,” Anne finally muttered. “You should be,” Hengist stated coldly. “Now come in, you two scarecrows.” He opened the door wide to admit his friends inside. Anne and Patience went past him, looking like punished children. “Oh please, don’t look at me with such puppy eyes,” Hengist snorted. “Actually…” He grinned hugely and obviously enjoyed the situation. “Actually you’ve done me a favour. All those pure-blood lovers there… Just not my company, and lucky I was tossed out before they found out I’m a mudblood.” “You’re our friend, and you’re a wizard who happens to have the nicest Muggle parents imaginable,” Patience promptly said. Anne nodded vigorously. Hengist shrugged. “There'll always be people who’ll see me as a mudblood only. And now I’d be happy if you’d put my clothes back where they belong.”

Shall We Dance?

“Come on, it’s just dancing!” “But I don’t want to!” “Oh, please, it’s really nothing, just moving to the rhythm.” “Then you do that, go on.” Hengist gave up and turned to Patience. “Shall we dance?” he asked. Patience looked at Anne who shook her head obstinately. “Okay,” Patience agreed and followed Hengist to the dance-floor. The song was rather slow. “I thought you could not dance,” both Hengist and Patience said at the same moment and burst into laughter. The angry looks from the couple next to them showed clearly that they were spoiling the romantic mood.

“That’s no music to dance, really,” Hengist murmured while he was drawing Patience near. “Oh, I wouldn’t say – look at Lisa over there, she rather enjoys it.” “Her partner enjoys himself even more, I dare say,” Hengist commented. Patience craned her neck to look for Anne. But Anne had hidden behind a book. Patience grinned. “Look at that, we go out and she takes a book.” “You’ve got one in your bag as well,” Hengist reminded his friend. Patience nodded and laughed. The slow song ended, and a faster one followed. Patience liked that better, and so did Hengist. They danced perfectly together, if a bit extravagant. “I had ballet lessons as a small child,” Patience revealed. Hengist nodded and watched her for a few moments while he himself was more or less only standing in his place. It was the wrong thing to do. Suddenly people began to watch them dance, and formed a ring around them. Patience, who would have dearly liked to sink into the ground, had no chance but to dance on. So did Hengist. Lisa whooped and clapped when the song had finally ended and Hengist and Patience positively fled back to their table. Lisa joined the Magpies there soon. “You should come with me to the dance competition next week,” she suggested. “No,” Patience said at once. “But you’re good. How many times have you danced together?” Lisa asked. “Never before,” Hengist said truthfully. Lisa laughed. “So come with me, you two rare talents!”

 

Next week’s dancing competition arrived, and Lisa had still not convinced Patience and Hengist to take part. The Magpies were sitting in Anne’s room, playing a game of Exploding Snap, when Lisa knocked. The cards vanished quickly, and Anne called her in. “Why don’t you come, it will be fun,” Lisa said. Anne grinned. “Yes, why don’t you, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers?” Patience was at a loss about this reference but shook her head nonetheless. “I’m not going to dance again. Never,” she announced. Hengist blinked. “As for me, I wouldn’t go that far,” he said cautiously. It was the wrong thing to say. Lisa beamed and dragged him up by his hand. “Then you’ll come with me!”

Ignoring Hengist’s protests, Lisa took him to the competition – and Patience and Anne followed them as faithful friends. There was a crowd already waiting to be given numbers. A young man in a silvery glittering smoking was talking to the crowd. Patience and Anne slipped off to a table from where they had a perfect view over the dance floor. “Do you think they stand a chance?” Patience asked. Anne shrugged. “We stand a good chance of being entertained.”

There were many people dancing, but after the first three songs almost half of them had been sorted out. “But they were bad,” Patience commented. “Did you see him who nearly lost his shoes?” “And her whose dress ripped at the back?” Anne giggled. “And…” “Hello you two – enjoying yourselves?” Hengist asked. He sounded angry. “Yes,” Patience answered. Hengist groaned and slumped on a chair. “You do know that this is torture, don’t you?” “We pity you,” Anne assured Hengist. “Thanks. Patience, please dance with me – Lisa is much too suffocating, she never leaves my throat.” “We saw that. She loves dancing close,” Patience observed. Hengist laughed hollowly. “Yeah, very close. I can’t move. I’m sure we get voted off next song!” Lisa heard the last bit and her face went red. “You don’t think I can dance?” she asked, her voice trembling. Hengist looked up at her. “Lisa. You’re great when it comes to slow dances, but in the fast ones…No,” he answered honestly. Lisa took a deep breath and took off the number on her dress. “Patience – I want 3 Magpie Lane to have a winning couple,” she said. “Please. Please dance for me. Now there are the fast songs coming up.” Patience hesitantly took the number and looked at Hengist. “Do me the favour,” he mouthed. Anne nodded encouragingly. “Alright,” Patience said. “Good,” Lisa said. “Let me sit down and tell the jurors, if they notice you’re not me, that I’ve twisted my ankle and can’t go on,” Lisa directed Patience.

So when the couples were called back to the floor, Hengist and Patience joined them. “Let’s dance,” Hengist said grimly. “Imagine it’s a contest against…” “Banks!” Patience burst out. “Great idea,” Hengist nodded. “Let’s imagine that.” “Not imagine – he’s here,” Patience said and pointed at the former Slytherin. Hengist stared at Banks and a mischievous grin began to show on his face. “My dear Miss Wood, let’s fight him. It’s Quidditch on the dance floor!” Patience laughed.

 

The next morning Hengist sat at the kitchen table and fondly looked at the small crystal dancer he and Patience – and Lisa, to be honest – had won. Banks had been voted off long before the contest had ended, but at that time it hadn’t really mattered. “We won,” he said to himself and laughed.

For Spoonerism's Sake

“It was horrible.” “It was funny, really, but… Poor Professor Arbuthnot!” “At least his lectures are always well visited, that’s more than many can say,” Hengist pointed out. The other two students grinned. “As you say, Alret. It’s good fun. Poor Prof, though.” Hengist shrugged, said goodbye and sauntered over to the library. There Patience and Anne sat brooding over books and trying to memorize everything for the upcoming exams. “Hello. Arbuthnot noticed you weren’t there,” he said and dropped into a seat next to Anne. “Did he? What did he say?” Patience asked. “’There are some who have hissed all my mystery lessons’,” Hengist reported and chuckled.

“What?” Anne asked bewildered, but Patience groaned. “If he didn’t do all those spoonerisms, I’d be happy to attend his lectures, believe me.” “I think he cannot help it,” Hengist said fairly. Patience shook her head. “No, he can’t – but I can help going to his lectures.” “Not next time, no. Everyone is expected to be there because he’s going to explain about the exams.” Anne nodded. “Then we’d better bewitch ourselves.” “Some Severe Potion?” Patience suggested. Hengist blinked. “Beg your pardon, girls, but that’s not possible.” “You can’t stop us – or do you want us thrown out of the room because we are giggling all the time?” Patience enquired. Hengist squirmed under her stare. “No, but…” “See. And Emerson wouldn’t want that either.” Patience added triumphantly.

“Now, wouldn’t he?” asked a voice from behind. Patience jumped. As usual, Emerson Dicket popped up where he was least expected. “No,” Patience insisted. “You two are not going to work with magic,” Dicket said sternly. Anne shrugged. “As you say – then we’ll fail the exam.” “Oh no, you won’t. Muggles manage to stay serious during the lectures, so you will manage as well. Girls, you’ve survived Binns’ lessons, and that’s more than can be said about himself.” Emerson looked imploringly at his renitent students. “Right, we’ll try,” Patience gave in and Anne nodded.

Dicket frowned. “I’ll be at the back of the class, hidden under an Invisibility Cloak,” he threatened. “Or you Apparate in the middle of the room, why don’t you?” Anne suggested. “Anne, you’re simply unbelievable,” Dicket groaned. “Well, we shall watch out for you,” Patience said impassively. After all, how did Emerson want to test them for the use of Severe Potion? “I know what you’re thinking,” Emerson grinned. “There are ways to test you. If nothing else works, I’ll take a leaf out of Professor Snape’s book and test you with Veritaserum.” “No, Emerson!” Patience exclaimed shocked. “And I’m sure,” Emerson went on mercilessly, “Snape does have a way of testing you for Severe Potion. Yes, I think I shall ask him to come and visit you.” “No!” Anne protested vehemently. “No? Then behave like Muggles, and everything is okay,” Dicket smugly said and folded his arms. He knew when he had won.

 

Arbuthnot’s classroom was as usual filled to burst with students. The topic was certainly not the reason for the interest. Religious hymns and their impact on the medieval and early modern society was not usually a topic that would have attracted more than two or three students. But Alastair Arbuthnot had the gift or the curse of lapsing into spoonerisms every time he opened his mouth. Being the college’s vicar, he was also due to hold the sermons on Sundays. Not that his sermons were very enlightening – but they were highly exhilarating.

“Doze the claw, if you please!” he now called. It needed a few second before the students next to the door had translated the order into ‘close the door’. Arbuthnot waited patiently. He was well aware of his faults – but unfortunately, as long as he might take before speaking, his tongue always produced spoonerisms. Over the years he had got used to it and took it for granted that his lectures were always full. Therefore he could research the most boring topics and still be sure that students learned a bit about obscure themes of the historical discussions. He looked around, satisfied that there were many faces he knew well. Then his eyes fell on a blond young man in the front row. “You,” he spat. “You have tasted two whole worms!” The room elapsed into giggles. Arbuthnot did not care. Two whole terms he had spent time trying to teach that stubborn student to work accurately. To no avail. Two whole terms – wasted, completely wasted.

The Magpies were delighted, for the addressed student was Roland Banks. “I hope not all of you are such boiled sprats,” Arbuthnot said scathingly. “No,” most students murmured and paper began to rustle, when Arbuthnot returned to his lectern and began to read. In reading, he made no mistakes. But once he got free of his manuscript, the spoonerisms took over. He looked up. “I haven’t seen many of you in chapel lately, but we sang the hymn Kinquering Congs their titles take last Sunday. It had great influence on the way France was treated by the English kings.” Anne had her hand over her mouth to stop herself from lapsing into laughter. Patience was writing fast to keep her mind occupied – until she found she had even written down the spoonerism.

Somehow the lesson ended, somehow they had managed to survive without being thrown out. “Last Sunday Arbuthnot announced the Lord was a shoving leopard,” someone said and everyone roared with laughter. “And they say that at the last faculty dinner he got up for a toast and suggested to drink to the queer old dean,” someone else added. “No, impossible,” a girl giggled. “Believe me, it’s true. Dear old Arbuthnot,” the man insisted fondly.

Another Meeting

“Folks, I’m off to Arsenio,” Patience announced and wrapped a scarf around her throat. “Who are you going to meet?” Anne enquired. “David,” Patience replied and grinned mischievously. “Although I might have accidentally dropped a note to Banks as well…” “Hengist and me will join you,” Anne declared at once and grinned as well. Patience nodded. “I hoped so. But give me half an hour, please.” “Right. See you!”

 

Patience arrived a bit early at Sweet Italy. “Ah, piccola rossa, I thought you would come by today,” Arsenio greeted her. “I’m expecting a friend,” Patience said. “Who?” Arsenio asked curiously. “David Bantam. We knew each other at school,” Patience told her friend. “Oh, right, I think I do remember,” Arsenio smiled. “He’s late.” “Oh, I don’t care,” Patience shrugged. David entered, bringing with him a flurry of red golden leaves. Arsenio sent them away with a wave of his wand. David smiled. “Sorry. Hello, Patience, sorry I’m late,” he greeted his friend. “That’s okay,” Patience assured him. David sat down, and they ordered hot chocolate. “How’s life at Oxford?” David enquired, rubbing his cold hands. Patience grinned. “Fine. We have seen a lot already,” she reported. “I’ve been to Paris this year.” “Wow. Paris,” David said impressed. “Yes. You must go there once, but careful. They only speak French. Urgh.” “What did you expect – Paris is in France,” David teased her. Patience grinned and changed topics: “How’s work with Ludo Bagman?” “Ask his secretary, I haven’t seen the man so far,” David replied. “He doesn’t seem to be around very much,” Patience observed thoughtfully. David shrugged. “We’re currently busy organizing the national Quidditch cup, and I can tell you that those team managers are a pest.” “Maybe you should consult Gilderoy Lockhart’s Guide to Household Pests,” Patience suggested and they both laughed.

After chatting for a few more minutes, Anne and Hengist entered the sweet shop. Arsenio beamed at them, and the two joined Patience and David. David looked deeply disappointed. “I thought we met alone,” he murmured. Patience raised an eyebrow. “And I thought you would be delighted to meet Hengist and Anne again,” she remarked. David mastered a broad smile and greeted the others friendly enough. “But there are no others coming?” he whispered to Patience who looked at him completely innocent and shook her head. David smiled. “And how are you two?” he asked Anne and Hengist. “Fine,” they answered in one voice. “Do you really like studying Muggles here?” David asked curiously. Patience grinned. “We have a pet muggle, David, I told you – she’s our object for studying, and in the meantime we’re studying what muggles do.” “We study things wizards usually don’t learn about at school,” Anne added. Hengist cleared his throat. “Not really true, we did have all the things the others had, just in another way.” “Literature?” Patience asked with raised eyebrows. “Demonology, part,” Hengist answered perfectly calm. David frowned. “We did literature?” “Yes. Didn’t we read The Monk with Brewster-brown?” Hengist retorted. The others looked uncomfortably at each other as they did not remember. “Oh well, if you don’t think so – history,” Hengist conceded. Now they all agreed. “But Binns was so boring,” David remembered. Patience shrugged. “Only if you thought so.”

At that moment the door opened and Banks entered. Anne and Hengist exchanged a glance and Patience looked like a cat in front of a bowl of cream. “Ah, Banks,” she said. “I thought you disliked sweets?” David swivelled around and his eyes narrowed. “You!” he said. “I got a note asking me to meet… someone here,” Banks said clumsily. Patience grinned. “Who asked you for a date?” she asked. David grinned and turned to her. “Certainly not you, Patience,” he fondly said and took her hand. Usually Patience would have told him off and withdrawn her hand, but now she allowed him to do this. Banks coloured. Even though he was not the most quick-witted, he knew very well that it had been Patience – again. “Lisa invited me,” he said nevertheless.

“Lisa, the Muggle?” Arsenio asked. He had come closer, amused by the talk. “Yes,” Banks replied. Arsenio laughed out loud. “She wouldn’t find this shop, even if there were gingerbread men wandering along the street and parading in front of her!” “She’s a Muggle, Banks, and this is a wizarding shop,” Hengist added. Banks looked from one to the other. “Do you think that funny?” he asked icily. “No, sad,” Anne answered. Arsenio tutted. “Actually, my dear friends, we should invite this young, disappointed man for a hot chocolate,” he suggested. Banks snorted. “Keep your chocolate – I’m off!” The deed followed instantly.

Arsenio frowned. “Who was this?” “An old acquaintance, someone we never liked,” Hengist explained. “Aha. You might be careful, once he is too frustrated with you he might turn out dangerous.”

Hengist and Anne excused themselves after half an hour of merry chatting. David was relieved to see them go. “Patience,” he said, when he helped her into her coat. “Promise me that next year we will have less excitement and more time for us.” Patience laughed. “Oh, we shall,” she promised. David looked at her enquiringly. “Do I stand a chance?” he asked. Patience swallowed and shook her head. “No, David, you’re a good friend, but you don’t stand a chance. I’m sorry,” she said gently. David smiled. “I will keep up hope – nothing is impossible.”

Double O - Double Woe

“Hey, read that, Emerson’s gonna let us have our wands ever-ready,” Patience said excitedly and pushed a book across the library table to Anne. Anne read the passage that Patience had marked and grinned. “No, I don’t think this will be helpful.” Patience snatched the book back and tossed it to Hengist. “What? Oh.” Hengist took the book and read in a whisper: “In 1568 aldermen and constables were to provide food for infected households; in 1570 inmates were to be allowed out if they carried wands.” He looked up. “Don’t even think about asking Emerson to let you carry your wands just because of this,” he warned his friends. Anne gave Patience an ‘I-Knew-It’-glance, and Patience grimaced.

They worked on in silence and undisturbed, until a young man came in and pulled a chair up to their table. “I’ve got a problem,” he said and hung his head. “No – don’t you draw us into your problems,” Hengist quickly said. “Who else can I ask?” the visitor asked and ruffled his brown locks. “I don’t know anyone else who’s decent and clever enough.” “Very flattering,” Patience giggled.

“Please, I really need help – look.” He produced an article seemingly cut from the Daily Prophet. “Oh, Orlando, do you really think…” Anne began, but Patience suddenly raised her hand. “Stop bickering, Orlando’s right – this is a major problem. But – why is it yours?” Patience asked, looking at Orlando suspiciously. Arsenio’s apprentice grinned slightly abashed. “Well, I read the article, and I was concerned for all those who will be victims of this… thing. It’s not really my problem. I just thought you’d act if I asked you for personal help.” Anne shook her head. “Maybe the public good is a bit more of a reason to act than your problems?” she suggested.

“Anne, please,” Hengist murmured half-heartedly. “Well, what is all this about, anyway?” Anne asked angrily. She hated being interrupted in her work. “It’s about Mr Ollivander and a new enterprise of his,” Orlando explained. Patience nodded and glanced over her shoulder. They were apparently alone in this part of the library. So she cleared her throat and began to read:

OLLIVANDER’S NEW TRADE

As the rumours went to a roar of news, Mr Ollivander, owner of the finest wand shop in Diagon Alley, stepped forward and announced, ‘I’m going to brew a potion that helps against any illness. I can cure everyone. You name it.’ Of course we shall follow the progress of the new cure.

Rumours have it that some sinister source is influencing Mr Ollivander in his enterprise. All we can say is that it does not really seem to be in concordance with his usual amiable character.

“Oh dear,” Anne breathed shocked. Orlando nodded fervently. “Do you see now why I need help?” Hengist took a deep breath. “This is an emergency for the Ministry. Do we know anyone there?” “Apart from the Minister and some others who questioned us? No,” Anne replied. “But we can’t simply go there and act without official permission,” Hengist warned. “Why not? If nobody gets to work, people will start believing Ollivander,” Orlando pointed out. “Yes, but don’t panic. We can write to the Minister, can’t we?” Hengist suggested.

“And what shall we write? Dear Minister please tell Mr Ollivander to stop brewing potions. Yours sincerely those you had to reproach for doing magic in presence of Muggles,” Anne said sarcastically. “Oh no, we can’t write that,” Patience immediately replied. Anne grinned. “No, of course not. Actually, I don’t think anyone can do anything about it – who shall the Ministry send?” “I don’t know,” Orlando sighed. “So it’s off to Diagon Alley?” Hengist asked. “Yes,” Anne resolved.

 

Diagon Alley was crowded as usual, but there was an especially huge throng of people peering into the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies. Patience and Hengist were attracted to the window as well, and Anne followed grudgingly with Orlando following her reluctantly. “It’s the new Nimbus,” Patience breathed longingly. Hengist nodded. “The Nimbus 2000 – it’s really great, look, Anne,” he said excitedly. Anne groaned. “It’s a broom, Hengist, it’s nothing special. You can fly on any old broom there is!” “Anne, this is a professional broom,” Patience chid her friend. “Is it? If you say so,” Anne said without real interest.

“Well,” Orlando said hesitatingly, “don’t we have an errand?” “Right,” Hengist agreed and tore his gaze away from the broomstick. “Let’s go and see Mr Ollivander.” But once they stood in front of the wand shop, they realized that they had no idea why they should go in there. “My wand is fine,” Patience mumbled. Orlando searched his pockets. “I’ve forgotten mine in Arsenio’s kitchen,” he confessed. Anne and Hengist looked at each other. “Why not say we want to get our wands checked – weighed, it’s called?” Anne suggested. “Brilliant,” Hengist told her.

They entered the dusty shop and it seemed as if the day had already ended. The light was so dim and frail that it was hard to make out any shapes. There were thousands of dusty narrow boxes stacked precariously on high shelves, there were glass vases filled with indefinable objects and there was the inevitable stepladder. But there was no Mr Ollivander. “Hello?” Hengist called tentatively. No answer. “Mr Ollivander?” Patience tried her luck. Instead of an answer something exploded in the back part of the shop. “Oh no,” Anne said and went pale. Pale-blue smoke issued from behind a thick velvet curtain.

Patience looked at her friends. “I’ll go and check,” she said and went past the counter, squeezing past the stepladder and pushing aside the curtain. There was a huge bronze kettle hanging over an open fire that emitted no smoke or heat at all. The kettle was filled with a boiling fluid of a pale blue colour that matched the smoke filling the shop. “Mr Ollivander! What is this?” Patience asked. Mr Ollivander looked up. His spectacles were dirty with spots of dried potions in various colours. It must have been difficult for him to peer through them. “OUT!” Ollivander shrieked.

Anne, Hengist, and Orlando came to help Patience. “OUT!” Ollivander yelled again. “We want to get our wands weighed,” Anne tried to reason. “I’m having important business here. Most important,” Ollivander informed his customers. “Your job is to deal in wands,” Hengist reminded the man. “My job is to save us all,” Ollivander contradicted him. “He’s changed,” Anne stated.

“Yes. He was so kind and he knew all his customers and the wands he had sold – what kind of wand do I have?” Patience challenged Ollivander. The old man blinked and pushed his glasses up to see better. “You? Oak, dragon heartstring, 11 inches,” he said. Patience shook her head. “I’m sorry, sir, my wand is yew, unicorn hair, 9 inches,” she sadly said.

Anne dragged her and Hengist out, while Orlando stayed and watched Ollivander pouring strange substances into the fluid. “I tell you, he isn’t himself,” she whispered urgently. Hengist and Patience nodded. “What do you think is wrong with him?” Hengist enquired. “Imperius curse,” Anne said after thinking for a moment. “How can we find out?” Patience asked and glanced over her shoulder at the now gently sizzling kettle. “I’ve no idea,” Hengist admitted. Anne grinned mischievously. “But I do. Let’s see… We can’t use all the wands here, but if I were to bewitch Mr Ollivander, I’d never use my wand but one that is close to mine and works still well enough to achieve a very good result.” “You don’t want to test all the wands?” Hengist asked. “I just told you, we can’t do that,” Anne sighed.

The Magpies stared thoughtfully at all those boxes with wands. “Alright,” Patience suddenly said. “It must be one with less dust on it than the others. Let’s look for it.” Hengist and Anne nodded. “What about Orlando?” Hengist asked. Patience shrugged. “Let him watch Mr Ollivander,” she suggested.

They looked for the dustless box in every shelf, under the counter, on top of stacks of newspapers and even between the pages. “I’ve got it,” Anne finally exclaimed and held up a practically dust-free box. She took out the wand gingerly and whispered: “Prior Incantato!” The wand emitted a faint green light, and the light hit Orlando in the back. “Oh dear,” Hengist said and Patience covered her face with her hands. Anne frowned. “Turn,” she ordered, and obediently Orlando began to turn on the spot. “Dance on one leg,” Anne said. Patience lowered her hands and Hengist grinned. Orlando was dancing. “I’ve seen enough,” Anne said satisfied, waved the wand again and said: “Finite Incatatum.”

“What were you doing?” Orlando asked, puzzled to find himself standing on one leg. “Proving that someone was using Mr Ollivander for their purposes,” Anne explained grimly. “Oh no,” Orlando stupidly said. “Oh yes. Finite Incantatum,” Anne bellowed, directing her own wand at Mr Ollivander. The old man stopped in mid-movement. He took off his glasses and wiped them on his sleeve. “Good heavens, I must have been very neglectful of my shop lately – all those customers and nobody to serve them… How can I help you?” he looked questioningly at the four young people.

“By telling us who did that to you, sir,” Anne asked urgently. “What?” Ollivander smiled. “You were bewitched, with the Imperius Curse,” Hengist explained. “Is that why I am brewing potions? You must know that I am rubbish at that,” Ollivander smiled amiably. “Yes sir. You announced you were to cure every illness,” Patience told the wand-maker and showed him the clip from the Daily Prophet. “Oh dear. Oh dear,” Ollivander muttered and scratched his head.

“I wonder where I got all those ingredients from,” he then said. Patience raised an eyebrow. “I assume you got them from Knox’s apothecary,” she replied. “No, no, Vicesimus is an old pal of mine, he’d never sell me such stuff. He knows how bad I am at brewing potions. No, no… These flasks look so strange, so… Hm.” Ollivander turned a dark-blue glass phial in his hands. There was a very small black mark on its bottom. “I do not recognize that seal,” the wand-maker said. Anne gently took the phial. “But I do,” she revealed. Patience and Hengist turned to face her, and Orlando just gaped in surprise. “It’s from Cumbria, from Irration Alley,” Anne explained. “But… but you said that’s where unfriendly wizards go,” Patience stammered. Anne nodded. “Exactly.” She looked at Ollivander. “I am sorry to say you have been badly used. You must write to the ministry and…”

At that moment the entrance door crashed open. Four people stood there, wands drawn and staring around as if looking for attackers. “Lower your wands,” bellowed the leader, a scar-faced man of middle age. There was also a young woman with mousy hair, cut short around her head, and a tall, bald, black man with an earring. The fourth stepped forward. “Hello, Cutie.”

 

One hour later the Magpies, Orlando and Mr Ollivander were sitting in the office of Barthemius Crouch at the Ministry of Magic. Each of them had a cup of tea in their hands, and Mr Crouch was listening to their tale. “And then, right after those four dear young people released me from that hideous spell, you came in and arrested us all for the use of a forbidden curse,” Ollivander finished. Crouch nodded. “We are always watchful for the use of the Unforgivables,” he said.

“You should be – it was a dreadful experience,” Ollivander complained and rubbed his wrists. “Me – brewing potions.” “We disposed of it – it was a very lethal poison,” Crouch reported. “However, I must congratulate you four for your vigilance. It is unusual for such young witches and wizards to act so sensibly,” he congratulated the Magpies and Orlando. “All of you will receive a small reward – let’s say, a nice book on defensive spells?” “Thank you, sir,” Hengist answered for them all. “Fine. Then return to your studies and your work. The Ministry is grateful for what you have done,” Crouch dismissed them.

Outside, Anne frowned. “Hang on, we still don’t know who did the curse!” “I don’t really care,” Orlando shrugged. “I’ll have to leave now. See you at Oxford!” He Disapparated quite quickly. “He’s wonderful – making us do the dirty work and get arrested by Aurors,” Patience said enraged. Hengist grinned. “Only lucky Tonks was with them, on her first official raid.”

“But we were arrested like some Death Eaters!” Patience pointed out. “Only we are none, and they know it now. Come on, Patience, it’s all over, and all is fine.” Anne patted her friend’s arm soothingly. “Nothing is fine! There are dark wizards on the loose attacking innocent shopkeepers,” Patience said. Hengist grinned. “There’s someone on the loose bent on making money with false hope, and believe me, there are loads of Muggles doing just the same in selling dubious medicine to people who have lost all trust in traditional medicine. Believe me, girl, it’s not uncommon and you don’t need to be dark.” Patience was convinced, but Anne had her doubts. There was still the phial with the seal from Irration Alley. Someone definitely was on the loose.

Accusations

“Do you really have to go there again?” “Yes, my love, don’t you see? The red dot for Oxford is blinking quite fast!” “You don’t really need to jump at their every move, you know.” “But I have to – unless you want them to have a lengthy stay in the North Sea.” “The North Sea’s said to be very nice.” “Not Azkaban, believe me, love. I’m off, see you later.” With a little ‘plop’, Emerson Dicket Disapparated from his living-room, leaving his livid wife Holly behind. Holly was holding a tea-towel in her hands which she now shook menacingly into the direction of the photo of her husband at their wedding day. “Emerson Dicket, just you wait!” she threatened, and the Emerson of the photo winced and ducked out of sight.

Holly snorted and went back to the kitchen. In her mind, however, she saw the red dot blinking. Emerson had installed an ingenious little device that showed him if magic was done in the house rented by his favourite Advanced Muggle Studies students in Magpie Lane. Whenever any magic was done, the red dot would blink and at the same time, the Ministry was informed that the incident would be taken care of and needed no official reactions. Unfortunately, the red dot blinked rather often.

Holly wondered if one of the children had tampered with the device and made it blink every other day. Abandoning the dishes, Holly went back to the living room, determined to find out for herself. She pointed her wand at the device. Since she had been Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts, she was perfectly able to find out if things were jinxed or hexed or otherwise magically altered. But the device revealed nothing. There was no childish spell on it, nothing to make ‘Daddy’s funny lights’ appear more frequently than necessary. Holly lowered her wand thoughtfully.

This state of affairs left but one conclusion: The Magpies themselves were responsible for the blinking. Either they were more stupid than Holly had reckoned, or they lured Emerson deliberately to Oxford. Which was, come to think of it, not the least likely option. For what would they need Emerson? To do more illegal magic and conceal it? To help them sort out the… what was it called? Dish-cleaner? Something like that. Or… Holly frowned. Or there was something more sinister behind Emerson’s frequent visits.

“Mummy, can I have an ice-cream before dinner?” Emerald tugged at her mother’s sleeve. “Sure, dear, go into the kitchen and fetch one for you and your siblings,” Holly said absent-mindedly. Emerald stared at her mother for a second, incredulous of her own good luck, then vanished fast before Holly could change her mind. Holly did not care about her daughter for once. “Emerson Dicket, if my suspicions come true, your life will be hell on earth,” she vowed under her breath, turned gracefully on the spot and Disapparated.

 

In the living room of 3, Magpie Lane, Oxford, Emerson Dicket was just berating his three students for using magic to bring out the rubbish. He looked up briefly when he heard a little sound as if somebody was Apparating and gasped. He had got a glimpse of his wife, but Holly was gone again in a matter of a nanosecond. “You were saying…?” Anne prompted in a bored voice. “I was telling you that… Merlin’s beard Holly!” Emerson exclaimed. This time Holly had materialised in full.

“So I was right,” she said satisfied, walking forward and bending down to stare into her husband’s face. “Why exactly are you here, Emerson? Why exactly are you sitting here when you should be spending time with your family?” “Holly, this was an emergency,” Dicket said wearily. He rubbed his nose. “Honestly, Holly…” “Don’t try to convince me you are not here because of HER!” With that, Holly turned and pointed an accusatory finger at Anne who was just staring at her former teacher in bewilderment. “What?” Emerson asked, totally lost for any other reaction.

“Well, I was thinking,” Holly said, beginning to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace that held the greatest fascination for her husband, an electric fire. “I was thinking about why my beloved husband would leave me and his kids so frequently when there was no very good reason. You three have survived one Ministry hearing, where would be the harm in a second. And perhaps you might even learn how to behave yourselves after a second hearing. But no. Emerson chooses to jump at your every command.” Holly paused and looked at each of the Magpies in turn. “How did you command him, eh?”

“Not at all,” Hengist replied honestly. “You can tell that to Filius Flitwick but not to me,” Holly told him curtly. Hengist blushed. “No, no, you cannot tell me that it’s just doing some magic that summons my husband here.” “But it is, lovely, it is,” Emerson interjected desperately. “Nonsense. It’s Anne.” Holly shot a glance of pure venom at Anne. “Well, yes,” Emerson said quickly. Anne gasped. “It was her this time,” Emerson explained happily. His wife went pale. “You mean, you’ve been betraying me not only with Anne?” “I’ve not betrayed you even in my thoughts, Holly,” Emerson laughed. Patience closed her eyes. This was a perfect nightmare.

“You yourself said it was on Anne’s behalf you came here tonight,” Holly pointed out. Emerson nodded. “Yes of course. Because Anne had performed a cleaning spell for her own room to save some time. She thinks it tedious of cleaning the Muggle way, you see.” “In her room?” Holly asked suspiciously. “Have you ever seen her room?” She scrutinized her husband’s face closely. “No, I haven’t, Holly. I just know it’s upstairs and it doesn’t matter anyway – Anne did magic while she wasn’t allowed to, and that’s that. I came here to spare them another meeting with Ministry officials – and I may remind you that I just as often had to go and see Daniel Rutherford before he got things sorted out.” “He,” Holly said acidly, “got things sorted out much more quickly than those three.”

“That’s because Daniel had to share a flat with two Muggles and no wizard near or far. I guess it was not the best of ideas of letting the Magpies here live together.” “Hey!” Anne said indignantly, and Patience seconded her friend. “Banks isn’t better, and he does live with a Muggle one his own.” “Well,” Emerson said cruelly, “Banks is stupid and I always thought you weren’t.” He left it unspoken, but everyone knew that he was beginning to think the Magpies stupid.

Emerson turned to his wife and tried to snatch her hand, but Holly retreated a few steps. “Holly, my love, I have never ever thought of another woman since I met you,” Emerson said earnestly. “But you see them more often than your own family,” Holly said. Her voice was beginning to sound cracked, as if she was fighting back tears. “I know. I’ll send someone else over next time. Perhaps Filius will go. Or Minerva. Shall I do that, love?” Emerson asked kindly. ”Oh, I’ve made such a fool of myself,” Holly whispered. Emerson got up and walked to his wife, embracing her tightly. “No, you haven’t. I’m glad I have you, Holly.” He glanced over his shoulder. “And you three have seen now what your stupidity costs me. If you break up my happy marriage, I’m going to kill you, one by one,” he threatened.

“We will behave from now on,” Hengist promised solemnly. “Yes, we will,” Patience joined him. “At least we will try,” Anne added. “Good enough for you, Holly?” Emerson asked. Holly nodded. “Yes. Sorry for my intrusion. You’ve, er, got a nice house.” She laughed shakily. “You’re always welcome here. Perhaps you will come round next time we forget to behave?” Patience suggested. Holly frowned. “You know,” she said, “That’s actually a very good idea. Yes, I could do that.” Emerson sighed. “Yes. A very good idea, Patience. I hope to see you again when you’ll receive your diplomas, and not a second earlier.”

With that, the Dickets Disapparated. The Magpies looked at each other. “Oh dear,” Patience said only. Anne shook her head. “Holly is jealous of us.” “Of you in particular,” Hengist noted. “Yeah, well,” Anne sighed. “Perhaps we should really try to do less magic.” “We must,” Patience said fervently, took out her wand and looked at it. “I’ll keep it in my chest of drawers instead of carrying it round with me,” she resolved. “At least the holidays will start soon – I don’t think I could survive without magic for long,” Anne groaned. Hengist sighed. “Let’s try, girls.”

A Good Party

“How do we get rid of Lisa this weekend?” Patience asked thoughtfully. She and Anne were sitting in the library and brooding over some texts. “Why do you want to get rid of her this weekend?” Anne asked surprised. Patience smiled mysteriously. “She might be in the way.” “Oh come on, Patience, Lisa will be away anyway. I mean, when do we see her for more than five minutes on any weekend? She leaves Friday night, comes back early Saturday morning and sleeps until the afternoon, then begins to get ready to go out again – we know the routine!” Anne was not wrong in that, of course. Lisa’s extensive partying on weekends was widely known and a source of gossip in the college. But Patience shook her head. “She’s got a bad head cold and has already announced that she won’t let Damian see her like that.” “Damian?” Anne asked puzzled. “Damian Andrews, from Magdalen College. He’s the latest capture,” Patience informed her friend. “I can’t keep track of all those guys,” Anne sighed.

Hengist joined the girls at their table. He dropped the stack of books he was carrying unceremoniously. “Hey, you just buried my notes under your books,” Anne complained. Hengist obliged and lifted the books again, thus enabling Anne to remove her notes. “What were you talking about?” he then asked. “How to get rid of Lisa,” Anne reported. Hengist looked at Patience. “You told her?” “No, not yet. But I asked dad, and he’s agreed to send his office wireless over should we need it,” Patience explained. Anne grinned. “A pound please,” she said smugly. Patience frowned. “Why? What did I say?” “Wireless,” Hengist repeated and raised his eyebrow as Anne held out her hand to him, too. “I just told Patience her mistake. It’s radio for the Muggles, Patience. Radio.” Anne triumphantly waved her hand under Hengist’s nose. “You said the M-word,” she purred. Hengist groaned but paid, and so did Patience.

“What did you want to tell me?” Anne then asked. A librarian passed them and looked angrily at them. For some minutes, the Magpies fell silent. They waited until no sign of the librarian was to be seen or heard any longer, then Patience replied: “About the party we’re going to have this weekend. Oliver is coming, and Orlando, and Arsenio, too.” “Did you invite Daniel?” Hengist asked slyly. Patience shook her head. “He doesn’t want to come, believe me. But Orlie does, and Arsenio brings food – not only sweets, you know.” Anne looked surprised. “What is the reason for the party? I mean, nobody of us celebrates a birthday.” “No. But isn’t it great Verres got the permission to come over for the weekend?” Patience asked. Anne nodded. “Sure it is. I just wonder what can be important enough an excuse for McGonagall to let Oliver come over.”

Hengist looked as if he was short of bursting into laughter. Anne frowned deeply. What was it she did not see yet? Oliver, who needed McGonagall’s permission to visit the Magpies. Food and a party, and Rupert Wood’s spare wireless. What did that mean? Then she realised the link between all this. “Quidditch,” she said dumbstruck, and had to pay a pound at once. “Yes, Anne, this weekend it’s the final match of the World Cup. Romania against Scotland, and it’s in the Carpathians,” Hengist informed his friend. Anne swallowed. “You want to hold that party in our house, and you want to get rid of Lisa?” “Exactly,” Patience beamed. “And you did not think to ask me first, what I thought about it?” Anne enquired, folded her arms and looked sternly at her friends. Hengist and Patience exchanged a helpless glance. “No,” Hengist voiced the obvious. “No. Right. Well, I object to having such a party in our house,” Anne said smugly and turned back to the book she was reading.

Speechless, Patience and Hengist stared at her. “Anne!” Patience said in a strangled voice. “Unless,” Anne said without looking up. “Unless?” Hengist breathed, hopefully. “Unless you invite even more people,” Anne finished her sentence. “More people? Anne, we can’t possibly do that, remember? We’re in, um, foreign territory,” Patience pointed out, evading the M-word successfully. “I didn’t say Lisa or her current and former boyfriends should be invited,” Anne replied, smiling wickedly. “I thought more of some other friends. And I’ll be glad to send out invitations, so don’t bother,” she added. “I reckon if we don’t agree, the party’s off schedule?” Hengist asked just to make sure he had understood. Anne nodded. “Correct.” “Then we agree,” Patience said hurriedly. Anne gave her friends a brilliant smile. “I knew you’d be sensible.”

 

In the end, it turned out to be remarkably easy to get rid of Lisa. Patience simply cooked up a nice herbal infusion (or that was at least what she passed the tea off as to Lisa) and cured Lisa’s cold in just one day. A grateful Lisa announced she would be gone over the weekend for a boating trip with Damian and some other friends and would return Sunday evening. No sooner had she left the house than three owls arrived in the kitchen bearing a large-ish package. “Dad’s wireless,” Patience stated and refused to pay a single pound since, she said, “This house is for a weekend a Muggle-free zone, and anyway, how will you make everyone pay for words like Bludger, Snitch, Seeker and so on?” Anne was a bit sorry – after all, that weekend would have brought in a lot of money -, but had to give in.

She settled for preparing the living-room. The wireless was put in the midst of the table. Cushions, chairs, and of course the sofa provided ample space for the guests. Hengist had bought enough drinks for a whole crowd. Patience was in the kitchen working her way through preparing sandwiches, muffins and other small things. There were crisps and chocolates in the living-room already. Anne looked into the kitchen and frowned. “I thought Arsenio was to bring the food?” Patience nodded. “But I thought I should prepare something, too, since Arsenio doesn’t know there are more people,” she explained. Anne nodded. “Alright.”

An hour before the match would start, Arsenio arrived carrying a huge basket. Orlando was with him, carrying three trays stacked precariously one over the other. “Hallo, hallo, my friends. Shall I put the food here, yes?” the older man panted. “Yes,” Anne said and hurried to help him. Arsenio’s basket proved to be a treasure trove. There was everything you could think of, and somehow everything had fitted into the basket. The trays Orlando was carrying contained small pizzas and other such delicacies, as well as freshly made cookies. “Wow. Now the guests can come,” Hengist commented, his hand already stretching for a pizza. Anne slapped his hand at once. “Will you wait until the guests arrive?” she asked sharply. Hengist grinned. “Yes, mummy.” Everyone laughed.

They didn’t have to wait for long until the first guests arrived. In the middle of the living-room, almost upsetting the table with the food, Emerson Dicket apparated with Oliver Wood next to him. “Side-along Apparition, waycool,” Anne muttered. Oliver grinned. “I thought that was by far the easiest way, and as Professor Dicket had received an invitation as well, he was so kind to take me with him.” Patience nodded. “So that was the guests you wanted to invite, Anne,” she said. Anne smiled. “One of them, yes.” “One of them? Who else is going to come?” Orlando asked curiously. Patience shrugged. “I’ve no idea, and Anne won’t tell.”

It turned out to be another visitor from Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall apparated gracefully. “Thank you for your kind invitation, Miss Symmons,” she said. Patience and Oliver exchanged a glance. What was Anne thinking of, inviting so many teachers? Only a second later the doorbell was rung vigorously. “Ah!” Anne cried and hurried to the door. Hengist and Patience smiled at each other. “Charlie,” Hengist mouthed and Patience nodded.

Indeed they were right. “Now all the guests are there,” Anne said happily. “And the match will begin soon. Settle down, everyone, settle down,” Emerson excitedly ushered. “And eat and drink, folks, it’s all for you,” Patience laughed. She turned on the wireless while everyone else was lading their plates with delicious food. When the match began, everyone except of Anne was listening breathlessly. Anne was watching Charlie instead, amusing herself with the expression of his face changing with the luck or failure of his favourite team.

As the commentator screamed: “And Scotland scores!”, everyone – except Anne, of course – yelled happily. It was rather funny, Anne thought, to watch the different ways of behaviour. McGonagall punched the air with her fist, Emerson jumped up, bouncing, Orlando just beamed, Arsenio retold the moment of glory again and again, Hengist and Patience were just laughing, and Charlie… Anne was a little embarrassed when she found herself the object of Charlie’s attention. “What?” she asked. Charlie smiled. “I’m really proud of you, Anne. You endure a lot for the benefit of your friends,” Charlie said warmly. Anne laughed. “Shut up, better listen, I think Brazil just scored.” “Oh no, shit,” Charlie swore.

In the end, the match ended in favour of Scotland. “That’s the best team of the world, that is,” Emerson said proudly. “And how that McPherson managed to get past the Brazilian Chasers, miraculous, really miraculous!” “Ridiculous, everything’s ridiculous,” Anne sang but nobody paid attention to her words. In fact nobody paid attention to Anne. So Anne took the opportunity to sneak upstairs and fetch her camera. She shot some highly amusing – and for the subjects – rather embarrassing photos from above, then went downstairs and shot some official photos. “I want to see them, Miss Symmons,” McGonagall insisted. “Of course, I’ll send an owl once the pictures are developed and ready,” Anne promised.

“Very good. Wood, we need to leave now. Our permission to leave extended only for this evening,” the professor told Oliver. “But, professor, can’t he stay until tomorrow evening? I’d take him back to school,” Patience asked. “No. Tomorrow is Quidditch training, I booked the pitch an hour before Severus Snape had the chance to.” “So that’s why he was so outraged this morning,” Emerson grinned. “I didn’t know he needed a reason to be outraging,” Anne muttered. “Get your participles right, Anne, he was outraged, not outraging,” Hengist chuckled. Emerson cocked his head thoughtfully. “Anne’s got a point there, Hengist, Severus outraged is extremely outraging!”

“Anyway,” McGonagall changed the topic again, “thank you very much for your invitation. Come on, Wood, do not tarry.” Emerson followed a moment after McGonagall and Oliver had disapparated. “We shall help you to clear up,” Orlando offered. “Perfect,” Patience decided and handed the young man a stack of dirty dishes. Charlie watched in silence for a moment. “Actually, I thought we could do it – that way,” he said, waved his wand and grinned. “And done!” “Thanks, Charlie,” Anne said sincerely. Orlando looked a bit startled when the dishes disappeared from his hands, but he was not sorry not to have to clean up after all. Patience frowned. “Hey, we’re supposed to learn the way Muggles live!” Hengist groaned. “Says the girl who waves her wand in secret for everything.” Everyone, including Patience, laughed. “And now?” Charlie asked. “I could show you St. Frideswide’s Chapel in the darkness,” Anne suggested and so they departed. Patience saw Arsenio and Orlando out, then went to the living-room. “Good party, eh?” she said cheerfully. Hengist nodded. “Of course. Do you think we can convince Anne to do that again?” “Not in the next four years, no – we’ll have to wait until the next final,” Patience replied.

Travelling the Muggle Way

 “We are much too early! It’s more than an hour until the train leaves,” Anne stated and sighed. “Just because you thought we would not find the way!” Patience, at whom this was addressed, grinned only. “Let’s watch muggles.” The two girls were on their way to visit Hengist, and as they had announced their plan to Emerson Dicket, the trip became an excursion (with essay) for their Advanced Muggle Studies. They had taken a bus to the station, arriving very early, and now were waiting for their train to come. Having found seats in the waiting room they began to watch their fellow travellers.

One of them was an elderly monk in black robes. He was carrying a suitcase and looked pretty forlorn. “ANOTHER WIZARD!” Patience exclaimed delighted. “Shut up, he’s not a wizard. I think.” Anne hissed. The monk meanwhile had entered the elevator and gone upwards. A few seconds later he was down again just to go up again. “What is he doing?” Anne wondered. “He’s a wizard and tries to get to a magic platform.” Patience suggested. Presently the monk came down again. This time he was accompanied by a middle-aged couple who seemed to help him find his way. “Maybe he isn’t a wizard after all.” Patience said disappointedly.

“We fleece Greece…” Patience read absent-mindedly. “What?” Anne asked flabbergasted. “We fleece Greece.” “But why? Just because we have some extra time…” “No, that’s what the paper says.” She pointed at a newsagent’s. Anne stared at the paper. “Don’t you think that’s…” “…stupid, yes, indeed I do, just like, mmh…” “…We press Cyprus…” Anne threw in. “…or No way for Norway…” The two young women laughed.

The train brought them safely to Little Hangleton where the Alrets had taken residence. Hengist awaited them at the station to help them with their luggage. As usual the two witches travelled light using only one small bag and a wickerwork basket containing Bethesda. Hengist carried everything while the girls followed him slowly to his car discussing the use of slaves for everyday life. “I don’t need a slave, I have a brother.” Patience joked. “I have an elder sister, I need a slave!” Anne replied half serious. “And I have two female friends, I am a slave!” Hengist muttered.

Nevertheless, he chauffeured them to his home where his parents were waiting eagerly. “It’s so nice to see you again!” Phebe called. Frederick hugged them as it was custom in the Alret family. He even hugged his son after his long absence of an hour. “Come, give me your luggage.” He took the bag and was just about to take up the cat’s basket when he was prevented by an angry hiss from the inside. “Better you take your cat.” Frederick quickly said. They were led upstairs to the same rooms they had had the previous year.

“How about a walk in the park – or if you prefer that – in the wood?” Hengist asked, grinning. “Great idea, let’s take Bethesda with us.” Patience agreed. “Yes, let’s take Bethesda with us and hope she’ll get lost!” Anne announced jokingly. The cat spit at her. “Oh, don’t listen to her Bethesda.” Patience cooed and took her cat into her arms. “I’ll show you some sheep!” Hengist declared. He dragged his friends and the cat to a little clearing in front of which sheep were grazing – usually. “Oh, it seems they’ve all gone…” He looked sheepishly at the girls. “Don’t worry, we know what sheep look like.” Patience consoled him. “Yes, pretty much like that cat of yours – without fur.” Anne reminded them. “But sheep usually have wool on their backs.” Patience snapped. “I think we could change that!” Anne grinned and looked evilly at Bethesda pretending to pull out her wand. “You’re in a muggle village, don’t you dare doing magic.” Hengist warned. “That makes two pounds!” Anne calculated while Patience produced a tiny box and offered it to Hengist. He paid unwillingly. Since his introduction of the box the girls hadn’t missed a single opportunity to make him pay for it.

The next morning they had to get up especially early. Patience and Anne groaned for they had been up since half past five the previous day and had gone to bed only at 11 p.m. After breakfast they set off for a near city where they wanted to do some shopping and visit a museum. The museum had an automatic door which did not open when Anne stood in front of it. “It’s closed!” She said. “Can’t be, the sign says that it’s open for another two hours.” Hengist contradicted her. “Then you try…” She snapped. Hengist stepped forward, pressed down the handle and opened – almost – magically. “Anyone could have done it with Alohomora.” Anne complained. And had to pay a pound.

The museum showed everyday things from the different centuries starting in Roman times and ending in the golden nineties, which were just about to begin. Patience couldn’t resist when – in a medieval hall – a box was presented which contained clothes of a patrician gentleman. The first thing she took out of the box was a deep purple velvet robe with a tiny crystal ball attached to it. “Cool! You can do divination with this.” There was also a chain with three not-working bells and  a furry cap. Anne took closer look at the box. “There’s also a ring.” Patience grinned and put it on. She fancy-dressed and Hengist took a picture.

During a break for a visit to the toilets Hengist took the time to look more carefully at his surroundings. Right in front of him he discovered a medieval stone carving depicting some saints. One of them pointed downwards – directly at a vivid green, modern sign saying ‘emergency exit’. He waited for his friends to reappear. Then he pointed silently at his discovery. Both Patience and Anne burst into laughter.

Hengist led them to a bookshop which contained the latest outbursts of England’s literary elite and some lighter reading. “Do you think they’ve got the new Gilderoy Lockhart book?” Patience wanted to know. As a consequence she had to pay a pound. “Wouldn’t help, he would run away as soon as he saw Hengist!” Anne reminded them. Hengist found one interesting audio book in the shop window and hoped to get it as a paperback version. They searched the whole shop – in vain. Only when they were ready to pay and leave Anne spotted the book on the counter. “There it is!” she laughed. Happily the Magpies went back to the Alrets’ house to plan the next day’s adventures.

 

Although the weather was rather cool and wet, the three friends set out for another museum. It turned out to be not quite finished yet. In fact, it had just been opened. There was no real exhibition, but the house itself was worth looking at. They took their time to walk through all the medieval rooms, and Hengist was in constant danger of hitting his head in the doorways. After fetching some souvenirs for the Wood family, they decided to watch a film in the cinema. Having attended a muggle film already, even Patience and Anne knew how to behave in a cinema – almost. “What’s the film about?” Anne wanted to know. Hengist shrugged. “It’s called ‘Troy’, so most probably it’s about Troy.” “Honestly!” Patience scoffed. Both Anne and Hengist turned to her. “What is it?” Anne asked. “Don’t you two ever read? Troy – the battle between the Greek and the Trojans over that woman Helena!” Patience impatiently told them. “Oh – that battle,” Anne remarked grinning. Hengist smiled. “Ladies, we shall travel far, far back into history, then.” They were lucky to have a place at the head of the queue. By that, they were able to be first in the cinema and save the best seats - or so they thought, until the next three people arrived and sat down right in front of them. The Malignant Magpies straightened up to be able to see something. Patience pulled out her wand, but was held back by Hengist from committing any violence against the Muggle Protection Act. Soon there were more people, and the three in front of the Magpies slipped down in their seats. “Good,” Anne commented. The advertisements started. “So those are the caravans again,” Anne said knowingly. “Not caravans,” Hengist hissed, “trailers!” Half an hour later the film started. “Loads of nice men,” Patience giggled. But soon enough she found things to criticize: “There is only a single bolt on the gate? Hogwarts’ Entrance Door’s got seven or more bolts!” “Shush,” Hengist pleaded – in vain. “No way – sandals on sand don’t sound like that. That’s boots on concrete!” In the meantime Anne found something to remark on in the actors: “This Achilles is the nastiest guy I’ve ever seen! And Paris is such a ninny.” Hengist rolled his eyes and sunk deep into his seat to endure the rest of the film in mortification. However, the rest of the audience did not mind the comments much, most probably as they were so low. After the film, Hengist sighed in relief. “I’ll never again go to a cinema with you two!” he declared. “So what are we doing tomorrow?” Patience cheerfully asked as she perfectly knew that Hengist was not serious. “Something outdoors!” Hengist replied and laughed.

 

The next day was perfectly sunny and warm. “What are you going to do today?” Frederick enquired at breakfast. “I thought to take the girls to that island, dad, where they have all those fascinating plants!” Anne pulled a face. “They won’t have any plants left if I go there,” she predicted darkly. Patience patted her hand. “Cheer up – you can’t kill a whole island of plants – you only killed those plants you were working with in Herbology.”

It turned out Anne really did not kill all of the plants. Nevertheless she voluntarily stayed out of the palm tree greenhouse. “I didn’t want that huge specimen fall on you heads,” she laughed. Slowly they wandered along the pathways, admiring the beauty and smell of thousands of rose blossoms. They found a house full of exotic butterflies and a petting zoo. Patience, having wisely left Bethesda at home, stayed well away from the goats and sheep, but Hengist and Anne indulged in soft furs and wet noses. “Hey!” Hengist suddenly exclaimed. A particularly nosy goat thought his thumb a particularly nice spot to suck at – unfortunately the goat had sharp teeth. “As usual,” Patience smiled and tended Hengist’s thumb. He gave her a sharp glance. “Well, as usual because you like animals very much but they tend to hurt you,” Anne explained. Strolling down an alley with huge musical instruments, they came to a little herb garden. Patience gave a cry of delight and walked from plant to plant, taking pictures and wondering if she could nick some leaves. “Tell you what – we’ll buy some flower pots and you’ll have your basic potions ingredients on our windowsills,” Hengist suggested. Patience beamed at him.

Suddenly they heard the shout of a peacock. “Oh, I’d love to see them,” Anne said wistfully. “Then let’s try to find them,” Hengist at once said. They found some signs with a peacock painted on them, but there were no peacocks to be seen – and not heard any longer. Suddenly they came to another crossing sign – with no peacock at all. “Hang on,” Hengist said puzzled, turning on the spot. “Do you see any peacock?” Patience and Anne shook their heads. “Alright, then, ladies,” Hengist sighed, “back again.” They returned to the first sign and followed the indicated way again. No peacock. “That’s bad luck,” Patience said disappointed. “Let’s give it another try,” Anne suggested. They set off again. “A peacock!” Patience exclaimed and they all burst into laughter. The peacock in question was made entirely of flowers. “Maybe it was crying after all,” Hengist grinned. He looked at his watch. “Well, girls, off for the ship! As we’ve got a special treat awaiting us tomorrow…” “What treat?” Anne interrupted eagerly. Hengist ignored her. “We should get to sleep earlier than usual.” “What treat?” Patience asked angrily. “Have patience, dear Patience,” Hengist laughed.

 

Hengist woke his friends particularly early the next day. “We’re off for an exhibition on the grave treasures of the 18^th Dynasty of the Egyptian pharaohs.” Patience nearly jumped out of her bed. “You’re kidding!” she said. Hengist laughed. “No – get ready, girls!” They went by train this time – but there was a tiny problem: “Hengist – the train just doesn’t stop here,” Anne pointed out. “Nonsense. All trains of that kind stop at Little Hangleton,” Hengist contradicted. Anne raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think so.” At that moment the train came - and passed. “What shall we do now?” Patience asked shocked. “Apparate?” “No way,” Hengist firmly said. “We’ll take the next train, although that means we’ll have to change trains a bit oftener.”

All of this sounded quite uncomplicated. However, trains are notoriously late as everyone knows, and that day was no exception. “Two minutes to go,” Patience said with her eyes on her watch. “One minute to go – run!” The first train had barely stopped when the Magpies dashed out of it and into the next one which was just ready to depart. “Ten minutes in this, then change again,” Hengist warned. They were again a little late. “That’s like jogging in the morning,” Hengist panted once they had found seats in the last train. “Or flying a bit before breakfast – we could have flown,” Patience remarked. “No way,” Anne immediately said. Hengist nodded fervently. “We’ll walk to the museum anyway.”

They arrived safely in London and walked towards the Museum of London. “They really were lucky to get the things,” Hengist told his friends on their way. “What things?” Anne wanted to know. “Grave treasures from Amenophis IV, Thutmosis IV…” “Hang on – Amenophis IV, that’s Akhenaton!” Patience interrupted him. “Take a point for Gryffindor,” Hengist joked. “Well, there are also things from Youya and Touyu, and of course from Tutankhamun!” They were really looking forward to visiting the exhibition. However, once they had entered, they were sent out again: “I’m sorry, could you come back a little later?” a harassed-looking but very polite man asked them. “It’s just a bit crowded right now, and you do want to see the exhibition, don’t you?” The Magpies followed his advice, but finding an ever-growing queue outside they decided to join it immediately. “If we come back later, we’ll never get in,” Hengist said. Slowly the queue moved forward until they were allowed to give their backpacks to friendly women so not to have to carry them around. The first room they entered was stiflingly hot, overcrowded and completely covered in blue carpet. There was a multitude of sound in French, German and English coming from several directions. Soon the Magpies had watched all the films on display (Youya and Touyu, the discovery of Tutankhamun’s grave by Howard Carter and Lord Carnarvon and, what was funniest of all, ‘The Making of Tutankhamun’). They joined yet another queue, this time waiting to be let into the real exhibition. “If we hadn’t come back, we’d never have been here now,” Hengist remarked smugly. Patience and Anne grinned. The doorway to the staircase leading to the exhibition was guarded by two members of the museum’s staff and two statues of Anubis. Slowly the crowd moved forward, while the air was getting so thick that nothing but fanning it a little helped. And then they were there, in the midst of glass caskets filled with Egyptian treasures.

It was absolutely awesome to see all the treasures, sculptures and small items and to know that they were actually more than 3000 years old. “That cow’s head is so beautiful,” Anne said and smiled at a head of the cow-goddess Hathor. There was also a real coffin, all covered in gold and with loads of hieroglyphs on it. “They say these are spells to protect the dead,” Hengist informed his friends. Patience bent closer to the gold. “I don’t know…,” she said slowly. “You don’t know what?” Anne enquired. “I don’t know if anyone has ever bothered to decipher these,” Patience went on, frowning a little. “I know that Bill Weasley is a cursebreaker for Gringott’s in Egypt,” Anne said amused. “So there will be some wizards who know…” “A pound, Anne,” Hengist whispered. Anne groaned but paid. They walked along more items, coming to a brick covered in hieroglyphs with the tiny figure of a mummy on top. “That’s a magic brick,” Hengist read aloud. “A pound!” Patience giggled. Hengist shook his head and pointed at the sign in front of the brick. There it was, written as plain as could be: magic brick. “What do you use them for?” Anne wondered. “You throw them and they do the curses for you,” Patience suggested. “If you build a house and place this in it, it is automatically unplottable,” Anne thought aloud. “That statuette is made of painted wood,” Hengist suddenly said and a grin began to show on his face. “Great! If we paint you, can we make a statuette out of you as well?” Anne asked jokingly. “I’d prefer gilding,” Patience laughed, pointing at a tiny golden statue made of wood. The next items were four tiny vessels made of alabaster on a stand. “Look – there’s Mungus on top of the left one!” Anne exclaimed. “Yes, indeed. What are these, anyway?” Hengist asked. “Dummy vessels,” Patience said. “Pardon?” “Dummy vessels,” Patience repeated. “They are vessels, the lid can be lifted, so where’s the dummy thing?” Hengist said perplexed. “They can be opened but not filled,” Patience explained. “See, the vessels are not entirely hollow.” “Stupid,” Hengist commented. Anne had already walked on. “Want something else that is a dummy?” she called. Hengist and Patience followed her, just to find a… “Dummy folding stool?” Patience read and laughed. “But it looks as if it can be folded!” “No, it can’t,” Hengist told her. “Why not?” “Because the legs are attached to the seat, Patience,” Anne explained. “Well, that’s always the case with stools,” Patience frowned. “Yes, but this prevents the folding, since the seat is made of wood,” Hengist said and grinned. “Small chest with long legs… If these are long legs, I don’t know how the Egyptians managed to build the pyramids!” Anne was clearly puzzled. Patience cleared her throat and drew Anne’s attention to the chest next to the other. “That’s the one with the legs. Yours is the cartouche-shaped one.” “Yes. I should of course have seen that,” Anne said amused. “Do you know what I’d like?” Hengist suddenly said. “An ice cream?” Patience guessed. “No. A golden coffin,” Hengist corrected her. “Oh really? Why not a whole pyramid?” Patience joked. Anne smiled. “I’d like a pyramid.” “Come to think of it, I’d like to be mummified,” Patience thought aloud. “Now?” Anne wanted to know. “When I’m dead,” Patience said sounding rather annoyed. “We’ll conserve you alright. I have a jar with mixed pickles,” Hengist assured her. “I wish I could throw something at you – hang on!” Patience exclaimed. “I could use that golden mace on you two.” “Throwing it?” Anne asked. “No. Hitting you as if you were bludgers.” “Well, you could throw this,” Hengist pointed out and showed a blue faience throwing stick. “What was that for?” Patience wanted to know. “Throwing?” Anne suggested. “Really? What would you throw it at if there were no friends at hand?” “Maybe it was sort of a boomerang which will return…” Hengist thought aloud. Anne shook her head. “Don’t you see, it was for a dog. There’s the collar.” “Yes, and if your dog didn’t want to go out for a walk you took your falcon with you.” Hengist said amused pointing at another collar. The sign read ‘falcon-collar’. “I think I could always use this prestigious dagger to get rid of one of you…” Patience who had walked on pointed at a beautifully ornamented dagger. Hengist took a closer look. “Yes, that should finish us off.” He replied. Anne frowned. “Why did they place the ‘bowl of  life’ next to it? That’s kind of paradox.” “Well, you always want to think of the two sides of the medal…” Hengist started his lecture. “But there is no medal! It’s a bowl, it has no two sides!” Anne reminded him. “That was meant as a metaphor!” He replied and continued. “You think of both death and life.” In the meantime the girls had walked on to the next casket. “KV 55 – KV…Koechel-Verzeichnis?” Anne wondered. “I always thought this was something about Mozart and as far as I know he didn’t live 3000 years ago, but I might be wrong…” “Maybe they did divination.” Hengist helped. “An Egyptian Trelawney, honestly…” Patience shook her head. “…KV means Kings’ Valley.” They walked on until Hengist made another observation. “They might not have had Trelawney, but they certainly knew about Slytherin.” He pointed at a winged serpent goddess. “That’s too beautiful to belong to Slytherin!” Patience said in whisper admiring the beauty of this little token as silently as possible. “It has wings, a serpent with wings is a dragon.” Anne stated matter-of-factly. The other two turned around. “You’re just as bad as Charlie.” Patience replied. The winged serpent goddess had been the last item of the exhibition and so the three friends left again.

For the next day a relaxing shopping tour had been planned. In the morning they headed straight to London’s most famous muggle shopping mall. “Toy bears!” Patience exclaimed and entered a shop displaying a great variety of teddy bears. Inside there were all sorts of toys. Patience had a closer look at every single bear to make sure it didn’t say her name. Sometimes she just couldn’t resist buying a bear which smiled at her and seemed to beg her to buy him, however, many times the price uttered a clear and definite ‘no’.

The next shop wasn’t better. It sold pearls, necklaces, amulets and all sorts of things to hang on or around one’s body. Anne thought about buying a black necklace with two round black pearls and a long black pearl, all decorated with flowers and leaves. She finally decided against it because the flowers were pink. Patience found a beautiful necklace of the same sort with russet pearls. Hengist bought a necklace on which end dangled a handsome, naked elf. In addition Patience bought a selection of pearls to make an Egyptian necklace of them.

Next they went to ‘Grandma’s Shop’. Passing all kinds of flower fairies they reached the section with the ancient toys. Something was moving – jumping to be precise. “Mungus!” Hengist exclaimed. He grabbed the amphibian. “He has turned into metal!” He observed. The girls laughed. He looked up and realized that there was a whole collection of Munguses – some of them jumping, some resting – and they were all made of metal. “Oh!” He said and wanted to put it back but then all of a sudden he decided against it. “You know, I haven’t any souvenir for Mungus, yet. So I can just as well bring him a friend he can play with.” “If he knows how to turn the key…” Patience replied. And only then Hengist noticed that it was a wind-up toy. “Well, a wizard could certainly do something about that.” He mused and had to pay another pound. “And by the way this would be against the you-know-what-protection-act.” Anne reminded him and refused to pay one pound.

As they went on Anne detected a treat which she absolutely had to possess. “It’s a real dragon…” “…a real flying dragon…” Hengist remarked. “…a real flying paper dragon…” Patience added. “It is definitely waycool!” Anne said and purchased it. As the two wanted to leave they noticed that their friend Patience was lost in deep conversation with a porcelain cat. “Do you really think I should buy you?” Hengist cleared his throat. “Do you want to wait until it answers or will you buy it now?” He grinned. Patience threw another look at the cat, took it and from that moment on was the happy owner of a little porcelain version of Bethesda.

 

“Oh, oh.” Anne said. She was driving the car. They were facing a re-routing announcement for the zoo. However, when they reached their street it didn’t seem to be blocked. So they took that way. Hengist stretched out his arms and legs when they had finally gotten out of the car. He was still tired. They entered the zoo.

“If I were a bird the last thing I wanted to be was pink.” Anne stated. “Don’t worry, if you were a bird – provided that you had the same character as a human being – you’d be a vulture and those never come in pink.” Hengist assured her. Patience laughed. “If you were an animal what would that be – a rather psychological question, don’t you think so?” She asked. “Why?” Anne wanted to know. “Because it reveals your true identity, the person you always wanted to be.” “Animal rather.” Anne replied to Hengist.

“Isn’t that a beautiful bird?” Patience said looking at a cockatoo. “Patience and birds – a story of a lifetime. Do you realize that Bethesda would eat it if she caught it?” Anne reminded her friend. “You are cruel.” Hengist told her. “Why? I don’t eat the bird.” “Don’t listen to them, you are the most beautiful bird I’ve ever seen. Yes, those are just beautiful feathers and your beak is shiny. And look at those legs…” Patience caressed the bird which held its body close to the cage. “Careful, it will bite you!” Hengist warned her. Anne shook her head. “You’re the one who gets bitten by animals all the time, not Patience.” She reminded him.

“Look, a horse in pyjamas.” Hengist exclaimed. “It’s midday, Hengist.” Patience reminded him. “That doesn’t mean anything, my neighbour always runs around in her pyjamas.” He explained. “Is she a zebra, too?” Anne asked caressing the smaller animal. “Not as far as I know.” Patience had stepped backwards. “C’mon, they won’t do you any harm. It wants to be caressed and anyway, they are both tired.” Anne tried to convince Patience to touch the animal’s snout. “It’s soft.” She assured her. Patience approached the – in her eyes – far too big animal and carefully touched its head.

“Antelopes.” Anne read thoughtfully. “Are there any ‘postlopes’?” She asked checking the plan of the zoo. Hengist shook his head. “Honestly Anne, ‘postlopes’, what should that be.” He replied. “How should I know? I just thought it would be nice to have ‘postlopes’ I mean it doesn’t make much sense to just have ‘antelopes’.” Patience nodded. “You don’t have ‘boomuins’ either and can live with just ‘penguins’ around! And as far as I know there are no cockaneithers either.” He reminded them. The two girls grinned. “Right, but we still pity that we have no ‘Cockgist’ that goes together with our ‘Hengist’.” “Very funny!” Hengist said and stepped ahead.

“Cranes.” Anne read but was disturbed by a baby lioness. “What is that?” Hengist asked smiling. “That’s running around freely, don’t get nearer Hengist.” When his hand was bandaged they had all calmed down a bit. “Why do you always have to touch animals? I mean, Anne is bad in that respect, however, by now you should know better.” Patience lectured him. “It’s just a scratch.” Anne reminded them. “Just a scratch? It hurts like hell, for a moment I feared that my hand had to be amputated.” Anne caressed his shoulder. “Yes, my love, just as you say.

They continued their tour through the zoo. “I don’t see the leopard.” Hengist said looking around the cage. “That’s healthier for you.” Patience whispered. “It says here that he is a master in disguise.” Anne told them. “Probably he just comes out when he is hunting.” Patience thought aloud. “Well, then Hengist, jump in.” Anne suggested and pushed her friend softly. The three laughed. They had little luck with the kangaroos who seemed to be in hiding as well.

“The seals are beautiful.” Patience said. “The benches are beautiful.” Hengist said and sat down on one. “Why don’t we have our lunch break here?” He asked. The girls agreed and sat down next to him. So while they watched the playing seals they enjoyed their meal. Patience had turned away from the seals and looked at another cage. It didn’t take long until Anne turned as well. “What is he doing?” She asked. “How do you know that it is a he?” Hengist asked in between two bites. “Well, look at the way he behaves.” Patience commented and Anne nodded.

“You are a beautiful bird. I bet everyone tells you.” Anne tried. “Gosh Anne, it did work.” Hengist said. “That’s because she knows how to treat a male.” “Yeah, but just birds.” Anne laughed. “Well, handsome male birds.” She added winking at the eagle. “You know, I could watch him all day long.” Patience said. “You mind your own business. Yours is the cockatoo.” Anne reminded her. “Hey that leaves me unmatched.” Hengist protested. “But why, just think of the pretty pink flamingos.” Patience replied and laughed.

“Snape-turtles.” Hengist read. “What?” Anne exclaimed and checked the sign. “You’re an idiot Hengist, this reads snap-turtle.” “Well, the difference isn’t that big.” Hengist defended himself. “Honestly, how can you say that. Professor Snape was not like a snap-turtle…” Patience burst out. “I was not talking about his character, just the name.” He explained. Patience’s face reddened. “Sorry.” She whispered. “Another name very close to the one of our dear professor: snake.” Anne dragged her friends away. “Now look at this one. Isn’t it just beautiful?” “What do you think how long is it?” Hengist wanted to know. “It will show you, look it is moving.” “Will you show yourself in all your beauty?” Anne asked. The snake stopped and hissed, then it moved on all the way upwards a branch. “I think I’ve never seen an animal more beautiful than this one.” Anne stated. “Well, that’s what you say about any animal.” Patience reminded her. “Well, all animals are beautiful.” Hengist agreed. “Well, you should be the one to be quiet about those matters.” Patience pointed at his bandaged hand.

“Look at those…” Anne started. “Don’t tell us, these porcupines are the most beautiful animals you’ve ever seen.” Patience suggested. “And, of course, you would like to caress it.” “Actually know, I just wondered why they had a lock at the door of their little house.” And indeed, there was an additional lock at the door of their house. “Maybe it’s a bad neighbourhood?” Hengist suggested. “Cannot get worse than porcupines, can it?” Patience thought aloud. “What about Lisa?” Hengist threw in. Patience nodded. “You’re right, Lisa’s worse than that!”

“Talking about worse things…” Hengist checked his watch. “…I’m afraid we have to go now, it’s quite late.”

 

The three friends arrived much too early at St Mark’s Castle. “Nobody is here yet,” Anne remarked and peered into the window of the ticket shop. “Hello! Paying customers!” she called – in vain. “Let’s enjoy the view,” Hengist suggested. The view was worth it: down below the river winded its way through hills full of vineyards. “The people look so small – just like ants.” “No, Anne,” Hengist grinned. “Those are ants.” He pointed at some ants marching over the stone banister they were leaning against. Patience drew out her camera and took several pictures of the castle. “I just hope they allow taking pictures inside,” she said longingly. “Well,” Anne started, “with a little Alohomora the problem would be solved. We could have our own private tour and take as many pictures as we like.” Hengist held up the little box and rattled it under Anne’s nose. Sighing, she paid.

Finally some people arrived who looked as if they were staff. Now the Magpies were able to pay for their tickets and just had to wait another five minutes until the guided tour began. It was an almost entirely American group, consisting of people who had left their best years well behind. The guide assured them that they were allowed to take as many pictures as they liked. On every corner Patience stood waiting camera at the ready. Suddenly she gave a delighted squeal: “Bludgers!” Hengist nudged her rather hard. “Ouch! What was that for?” she asked angrily. “Pay,” Hengist hissed. Patience went brick-red, but pad and pointed at a metal crate holding several stone cannon balls. “These are no you-know-whats, these are cannon balls,” Hengist informed her with a broad grin. Anne snorted. “That couldn’t have happened to me.” “They won’t fit into this baby cannon,” Patience remarked amused. “So just maybe they are….” “Shut up,” Anne advised her kindly. Their guide led them through a beautiful herb garden. “Mandrakes,” Patience said suddenly. Hengist was just about to draw the box when he saw Patience was absolutely right. “And other ingredients, too,” Patience said in an awed voice. “Drag her along, Hengist, or we’ll lose our tour,” Anne exclaimed. “And I’ll kill some plants, I fear,” she added with a concerned look at the herbs next to her. “If I’ve told you once I’ve told you a thousand times you don’t kill plants by looking at them - just by working with them,” Patience said annoyed.

The tour followed steep and narrow staircases up to the palace, where they saw a bedroom and what was dubbed the Great Hall. “Great?” Hengist muttered and turned on the spot in the rather small hall. “Nicely painted,” Patience amended. Anne was desperately trying to take a photo, but their fellow tourists had a talent for being in they way. They continued their way into the chapel. “If you go upstairs, you’ll find the writing room of the chaplain,” the guide informed them. “Need some parchment?” Hengist whispered. “Not right now,” Anne replied, “but a pound, if you please.” “Come off it!” he protested. “There is parchment, and why not nick some?” “You’ll get yourself arrested one day,” Patience predicted in her best Trelawney-manner.

In the armoury there was an exhibition of various types of suits of armour through the ages. Patience smiled. “See? I told you the cannon balls were bludgers – here are the clubs to beat them!” “That was an expensive thing to say,” Anne commented. Patience shrugged. “Somehow I think that’ll never be in fashion again, clubs with nails on them – much too dangerous nowadays.” The next room was a very big kitchen with several huge cauldrons in the fireplace and a mouse-trap on the floor. Nothing there tickled their fancies – although the Americans were much impressed by the sheer size of the cauldrons. “Follow me down into the dungeons!” the guide asked the group. Anne grinned. “Wonder what the dungeons are like here.” They were just as cold as the dungeons in Hogwarts, but small and to the relief of the Malignant Magpies it lacked an office of a certain professor. Instead it held a torture chamber. “I know someone who’d like that” Patience mused. Anne looked at her in surprise. “You don’t mean… hm… Professor S., do you?” “No, actually, I thought of Mrs Norris’s keeper,” Patience grinned. Hengist, who hadn’t paid attention, lost two pounds. After a brief visit to the smithy, the tour was ended and the Magpies made their way to the obligatory souvenir shop. Suddenly two wooden blades barred their way. “Quo vadis?” a sharp voice demanded. “Pardon me?” Hengist asked puzzled. “Where art thou going?” another voice translated the Latin phrase. “What are you doing here?” Anne asked. The two young men with the wooden blades grinned. “Doing our work,” the bearded, big one answered. “What kind of work? Street robbery?” Patience enquired. “No, dear Patience, we are working for the Daily Prophet.” “Mike Flatley and Brian Cullen working for a serious newspaper? A miracle,” Hengist dryly commented. “Do you have to force people to buy it?” Anne wanted to know, pointing at the two blades. “No, milady, our quest is concerned with more peaceful matters, namely the exploration of muggle tourist attractions which are suitable for witches and wizards as well.” Mike bowed mockingly. Brian grinned and took his blade down. “So, what are you doing, Miss Alret, Miss Wood, Miss Symmons?” he teased them. Hengist did not care but also did not answer. “We’re on holiday,” Patience explained. “On muggle holiday, thanks to Emerson Dicket,” Anne added. “Oh, right,” Brian slapped his forehead. “I forgot. You’re doing Advanced Muggle Studies!” “Exactly,” Hengist nodded. “What are your further plans for today?” Mike enquired. “Lunch,” Anne said curtly. “Brilliant,” Brian beamed. “And then a fortress,” Patience went on. “Marvellous,” Mike remarked. “We’ll join you,” Brian decided. Hengist groaned. “Goodbye to our low profile, then.”

After having purchased some small souvenirs, the Magpies, Mike and Brian left St Mark’s Castle for the fortress of broadstone. It was enormous. “There are two exhibitions, one technical, one archaeological,” Mike informed the Magpies. “What shall we do first?” “Technical,” Anne said at once. “Alright,” Brian shrugged and led the way. Inside there were cars, outside were aeroplanes and on the first floor several machines to crush stone, melt tin and produce wine.

“These cars look rather ancient to me,” Mike remarked. “I wonder if one could still drive them,” Brian added. Hengist grinned. “I’ve got the perfect book for you: Gilderoy Lockhart’s Crisis with Cars and how to solve them.” Patience and Anne exchanged a smile but said nothing. Brian raised an eyebrow. “You know, we’ve heard a lot of that Lockhart-guy lately. Seems that some of the girls at the Prophet fall for him!” “How could that happen?” Anne asked. Mike shrugged. “How are we supposed to understand women?” “For further information, ask Miss Alret,” Brian advised his friend. Hengist sighed. “For once and for all, I’m not in he secrets of the feminine mind.” He smiled. “But about Lockhart only that much: he’s a fraud.” “But his books are bestsellers, and what’s good for business is good for the Prophet,” Mike told him with an evil grin on his face.

The cars, however, stayed pout in their places in the museum. So did the planes. “Don’t push it here,” Anne said suddenly. Patience turned around. “What shall I not push?” she asked puzzled. “The plane. Look, they’ve written this on the plane!” Anne pointed out. Patience giggled. “Pity! I was just about to push it!”

When the five ex-Hogwarts-students had reached the first floor, groups of children began to appear at every corner. “They’re on a class trip,” Hengist concluded. “Well done, Holmes,” Anne joked. Patience didn’t pay attention. Neither did the children. They were running along the exhibition without much interest – but they were talking rather animatedly. “Did you hear that?” Patience asked thoughtfully. Brian looked at her questioningly. “They asked each other how much they loved someone,” Patience explained. Anne frowned. “There’s no question of how much, because you either love someone or you don’t. That’s just like being pregnant.” “Which two things do have a connection,” Brian remarked dryly. “Yes,” Patience said, “but they were talking about percentages. Can anyone tell in percent how much you love someone?” “Could you?” Mike retorted. Patience shook he head. “I think I could tell when I love somebody, but not how much. Not in percent, that is,” she replied. Hengist nodded. “I think you can say that you love someone a little, much, very much – but how are you going to put that into numbers? 10%, 25%, 90%?” “Easy,” Brian started. “The Slytherins zero percent. Miss Alret 10%. Nelly, Ghewyn and Catherine 20%…” “Hang on – is that 20% each or all of them together?” Hengist interrupted. “All of them together, of course,” Mike laughed. Brian shook his head. “Each!” Then he went on: “Mike 30%. Patience and Anne 60%. My mum 80%. My girlfriend 90%. Myself 100%,” Brian finished. “Your girlfriend?” Patience enquired curiously. Brian grinned at her. “Sure. My girlfriend.” Mike groaned. “Don’t get him going on about Susan. He’ll never stop!” “I can also do some percentages like that,” Hengist said amused. “I love technical exhibitions 60 %, but archaeological ones 85%.” They all laughed and went to the next exhibition.

There they were greeted by the head of a statue of the late Roman emperor Septimius… “Severus!” Patience gasped. “Where?” Anne exclaimed shocked. Mike, Brian and Hengist couldn’t help bursting into laughter. “The stone head, Anne,” Patience told her friend. “Yes, I know that, but where is he?” Anne enquired, looking around for a glimpse of the all-too-well-known black billowing robes. “Not Severus Snape, Anne,” Patience said and grinned. “I would never call him by his first name!” “Good to know,” Anne said relieved. “This is the head of a Roman statue, Anne, and the unfortunate emperor bears Snape’s first name,” Hengist explained. “Then he must be really unfortunate,” Anne remarked. “Has been. He’s dead – I hope,” Brian corrected Anne. “Then he’s really unfortunate,” Anne retorted. They wandered along several items recently found in a Celtic graveyard and then were lead from prehistoric times to the late Middle Ages. There were broken and bent swords, spearheads, arrow-tips, bracelets and rings and loads of sacrificial offerings. There were also huge pots and tiny models of prehistoric and Celtic halls and graves. “What is this supposed to be?” Mike asked, standing in front of a glass casket and craning his neck to look at the figurines on display form a different angle. “Women,” Hengist said. “How do you know?” Brian asked suspiciously. Hengist blinked. “There’s a sign there.” Anne leaned forward. “If these are really women, then it must have been a long time since the maker had seen one,” she decided. Patience softly pushed Mike away to get a closer look. “No, Anne, if you look at them really closely, you can see that he’s worked out really feminine shapes.” Brian snorted. “Tits and ass, eh?” Turning towards Anne, he said: “Now that I know, I can spot some similarities to you!” As a consequence, Anne tried to smack him. He ducked just in time. “No offence meant!” he quickly called.

“More sacrifices!” Mike stated. “The one who spots the naked woman first has won.” At that moment, Anne spotted something very different from a naked woman. She nudged Patience. “Oh my god!” Patience squealed. “What?” Hengist asked. “Er… the thingies there,” Anne explained and pointed at two tiny phalluses. “These are enormous,” Mike said. “Exactly,” Anne added. “But we all know that size doesn’t matter,” Brian reminded them. “Do we?” Anne wanted to know. “I wonder what these were meant for,” Patience thought aloud. Blank stares of disbelief answered her. “Even you cannot be that naïve,” Brian told her. Patience blushed. “I know what the real things are meant for, Brian. I just wonder what the gods would do with phalluses!” “A kind of Roman Viagra,” Hengist suggested. “Oh! You mean men tied to get back their physical abilities!” Patience exclaimed. Mike patted her shoulder. “Exactly.” The rest of the exhibition was rather unspectacular.

“And what shall we do now?” Brian enquired after they had left the museum. “We are going home now,” Hengist said. Mike looked deeply disappointed. “I thought we could do something else together,” he said to Anne. “Thanks, I think for one day that will do,” Anne laughed. “Okay. So what about Sunday?” Mike asked, rubbing his hands. “I thought of a nice boating trip,” Hengist said. Brian groaned. “Boating trip. In pouring rain and thunderstorms?” “No,” Hengist admitted, “that doesn’t sound very nice.” Patience frowned. “If the weather forecast says it’s going to be like that, why don’t we visit another museum?” Brian beamed at her. “Yes. And I know just the thing for you!” He considered his idea for a moment. “Tell you what, you come over for dinner tomorrow and we’ll talk it over, alright?” Mike cleared his throat. “Does Susan know?” Brian grinned. “Not yet, but there’s still plenty of time.”

 

“But you told us you have been at Brian’s before!” Hengist complained, looking helplessly at the directions Brian had given to them. “Yes. I forgot. He has moved since,” Mike said and shrugged. Anne had another look at the tiny writing. “Theoretically, we must be right. Only I don’t see a sharp right-hand bend that’s going up a steep hill.” Hengist sighed. “Shall I turn around, then?” “Yes,” a chorus answered him, when suddenly Patience burst out: “No!” “Are you mad?” Mike asked. “No, look, that car just came around a sharp bend downhill!” Patience pointed at a car that was driving steadily towards them. Hengist manoeuvred the car into a space to let the other one pass and drove on. Very slowly.

When they had almost reached the top of the hill, Anne continued: “There should be another right-hand bend into a street named Stonehill Drive. Problem is only that I can’t read the sign.” Hengist groaned. “You’re so helpful, all of you.” “Turn right, turn right!” Mike yelled. Hengist did so and in passing everyone was able to read they were in the right street. “Now follow it to the very end and stop in front of the right-hand garage,” Anne ordered. Hengist did so and was happy to have arrived safely. “We’re far too early,” Patience aid with a quick glance at her watch. “So what? They have to be ready,” Mike said and got out of the car. “we can’t go in there. It’s horribly impolite to arrive that early,” Patience exclaimed shocked. “That must be one of the rules of your ghost auntie,” Hengist teased her. “Very Victorian,” Anne agreed. “No. Simply good reason,” Patience told them. “I would be ready, yes, but I don’t think many people would like to see their guests that early. Mind you, my mum wouldn’t.” Mike took a deep breath. “Very well then, Cutie, why don’t you wait down here and come into the flat only when it’s the proper time?” Everybody got out of the car, even Patience. “Now we only have to find the basement,” Mike announced. “Yes. And how difficult is it to find a basement?” Hengist asked ironically. “Well, first of all do you see the staircase leading up? And the additional door probably leading into the garage but maybe not?” Mike retorted. “Yes,” Hengist replied. “And now, can you tell me which one we have to take?” Hengist didn’t even consider to answer this one and headed straight upstairs. The others followed him. They passed two letter boxes, one bearing the name of Cullen.

Upstairs, they found two doors. The first bore the name they had read on the second letter box, the other obviously belonged to Brian’s domicile. They rang the bell. Before the door was opened, Mike warned the Magpies: “Susan is a sweet one, but… erm… shall we call it mentally inferior?” Anne grinned. “That’s okay.” At that moment the door opened and they faced a pretty blonde tall girl. “Who are you?” she asked. Mike smiled. “Fair Susan, it’s me and my friends. I hope dinner is ready.” “Brian is still in the kitchen, you know,” Susan answered. “But you may come in and make yourselves comfortable in the living room.”

They chose seats and helped themselves to some of the sweets which were displayed on the table. “Tut tut, where’s the question of ‘what do you like to drink?’” Mike muttered. Susan, however, had already left her guests alone. They waited for fifteen minutes before any of their hosts bothered to show up. “Hello folks, I’m awfully sorry, but the joint is a little dark,” Brian announced. ”Hello Brian. Thanks for the invitation,” Patience answered. “I hope you have something else than burned pork,” Mike grumbled. Brian nodded. “We settled for noodles instead.” “Isn’t that the smell of burned noodles?” Anne asked. At exactly the same moment Susan called. “Bri-an!!!” “Excuse me, my presence is required elsewhere. What is it, my honey fly?” He left the Magpies and Mike behind. They burst into laughter. “What was that?” Patience wanted to know. “Love talk.” Mike informed them. “Laugh talk, rather.” Hengist corrected him. They all went quiet when the door was opened for a second time. Brian peeped in. “You know, I just thought we could order something to eat…so that Susan and me could sit down with you instead of rattling on in the kitchen.” The guests looked at each other. They started nodding. The door bell rang. “That’ll be the pizza, sugar plume, will you answer it!” Susan’s voice was to be heard from out of one of the rooms, though definitely not the kitchen.

The table was laid and the six had gathered around it. They were silent. Susan had cut the pizza into pieces. Mike, who loathed pizza, had leaned back to reflect over the pros and cons of trying the provided salad. Patience looked at the pizza rather suspiciously. She wasn’t sure but somehow she felt watched since the meal had been placed on the table. Hengist had thrown his knife from the table for the fifth time now, still mumbling ‘I must be very clumsy today.’ Anne cleared her throat and raised the plate. “Hosts first!” She offered the pizza to Susan feeling much more comfortable about the possible loss of her than that of Brian. Susan took a piece, the tiniest. “I’m on a diet, you know.” Brian was next. “You know with all this trying during cooking I’m not very hungry now.” “Patience, how about you?” Anne asked. At that moment Patience ducked to collect Hengist’s knife and so it was his turn instead. Hengist courageously took a piece of pizza – and let it fall on the ground. “So sorry, help yourself first, before I drop the rest of the pizza as well.” Anne turned towards Mike. “Are you sure, you don’t want one of these?” She asked. “No, thanks.” Mike answered not even looking at the plate. Anne placed it on the table. “You know, with such a big variety, it is really hard to choose, since I don’t want to miss the best taste, I wait till you tell me, what the pizza is like. “Susan, why don’t you start?” Patience asked. Susan cut a little piece of the pizza, stabbed it with her fork and slowly moved it towards her mouth. The others and the pizza watched her breathlessly. Hengist tried to remember what he had learned in his first aid course but his mind seemed to have gone blank.

When they returned from the emergency all felt quite relieved that Susan only had to have her stomach pumped out and had to stay for one night at the hospital. Luckily enough she had broken down before any of the others had tasted from the pizza. “I’ll never again order a pizza at Pete’s Pizza Parlour.” Brian told his friends. “Hang on, now we haven’t talked about our plans for the weekend.” Mike said. “Well, we could visit an exhibition the Vikings.” Brian suggested. “Sounds fine.” Patience smiled. They agreed to meet if Susan was well again. And so it happened that on the next Sunday they found themselves in front of a train station not knowing where to find the museum. The Great Hangleton Museum of Culture and Civilization seemed to be unplottable. One sign had indicated the right exit out of the station however, outside there were no more signs.

They decided for one direction and followed it until they reached a sign reading ‘The Great Hangleton Museum of Culture and Civilization this way’. Unfortunately, the street led to a crossroads with no sign at all. “I think, the museum should be somewhere over there.” Brian said pointing vaguely to the right-hand side. Hengist walked into this direction and came back with a broad smile on his face. “Yes, there it is.” They could hardly miss the museum. It was huge with a glass front and automatic doors. “It looks closed.” Anne said approaching the door which stayed closed. “It can’t be, it has to be open.” Mike protested and approached Anne. The door opened immediately. “Silly door.” Anne muttered. They entered and purchased five tickets and five audio guides.

The first items were tombstones for Roman noble men and their families. There were also two almost life-size figures of a supposed witch burned in the sixteenth century and a theologian who had opposed witch hunts. “You know, if they had accused me in those times I would have told them about all my accomplices.” “I never knew you were a traitor, Anne.” “Well, there would be the person who had accused me, her neighbours, family, friends, the judge, the priest, the torturer and the whole ruling family.” She declared. “That wouldn’t have saved your neck. They would have rather burned you than raise a single finger against the ruling family or the judge.” Patience thought aloud. “Well, I wouldn’t have minded.” Anne shrugged. Hengist grinned. “You would have enjoyed it, just like Wendelin the Weird.” “Wow, someone paid attention in Binns’ lesson.” Mike laughed. “A pound!” Patience and Anne exclaimed in one voice. Hengist shook his head. “That rule applies only to you.” “You better keep quiet or else we will tell him that your knowledge comes from chocolate frog cards rather than the History of Magic class.” Anne hissed.

When they had brushed up their knowledge of the Vikings and their marauding escapades they left to get a decent meal. “Netherlands’ Noodle Niche.” Hengist read. “Doesn’t sound too bad.” Patience thought aloud. They read the menu which hung outside. Anne chose macaroni. Hengist spaghetti. Mike decided for green noodles. Brian tried the black noodles and Patience chose farfalle. It was delicious.

They went to the station to catch the next train home. However, the next train home chose to be half an hour late. It was cold and rainy and the five friends were very tired. The place was packed with muggles and their bicycles. Anne hummed a tune while the others discussed the possible arrival of any train going in their direction. Finally, a train arrived. “Don’t get into that one.” Brian warned. “It doesn’t go far enough.” Unfortunately, the muggles and their bikes stayed on the platform as well. This did only change when their train arrived. The five friends hurried inside to secure a seat and to have a chance to get by the bicycles which soon blocked the entrances and the corridors. “Thank goodness we have to travel to the last station.” Mike sighed. “Do you think they will all have left then?” Patience enquired. “I hope so.” He replied. And indeed, when they reached the terminus all cyclist got out and so did Patience, Anne. Hengist, Mike and Brian. As Anne and Patience were going to leave the next day the Magpies spent a quiet evening at the Alrets’ house.

Hengist drove his friends to the station the next morning. “See you in September!” he said and hugged both of them. “And loads of owls in between.” Patience promised. They boarded the train and waved until Little Hangleton and Hengist were only tiny dots. Hengist watched the train driving into the dawn.

-THE END-

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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.