The cheerful sound of whistling echoes throughout the Wexlers’ new house, bouncing off the walls of the still mostly-empty rooms, and rising up to the second floor, and even the tiny tower room. The focus of the bright music, though, is Sibyl Wexler, bustling heavily but contentedly around the living room, studying it from every angle – and, occasionally, from a lower angle, as she takes a break to rest in the large squashy chair that sits in the middle of the room, one of the few pieces of furniture that has been moved in. But then she is up again, poking into the corners of the room. Occasionally, the cheerful rhythm of the music is broken up by a considering murmur from Sibyl: “Blue? Hm, with white trim, perhaps? No, maybe green…”

Striding in with his arms full of wallpaper and what looks to several wall poster, Basil drops them all onto a table that has been set up in the center of the room. “Which is for what?” he asks, looking quite perplexed at all of it, and as a snitch darts across one roll, he frowns. “I thought we told Briony no Quidditch paper.” He brandishes the roll at Sibyl, too seemingly distracted to figure out whether it is a poster or is, indeed, a roll of wallpaper. “I liked the green better, “he comments quietly and comes over to her, leaning down to kiss her gently.

“It’s just a poster, love,” Sibyl replies soothingly, tilting her head up to return the kiss. “And do you really think the green would be better? Here, look – ” She reaches down to fish through her voluminous robes for a moment, and pulls out her wand. Pointing it at the wall with the fireplace, Sibyl murmurs two quick incantations – and one half of the wall turns dark blue, and the other forest green, leaving the fireplace and mantel white. “I think I like the blue…” The color starts to fade after only a few seconds, but it is long enough to get a sense of what it would look like.

Pulling his wand out and pointing to the wall, Basil turns around once, surveying the room. “I was thinking more like this.” He waves his wand and a splash of color goes in stripes against the blue in a much lighter green, almost a muted heather color. “That’ll make it less dark in here, I think,” he comments. Realizing her comment about the quidditch print he shakes his head. “Whatever got her interested in Quidditch, I’ll never understand. It’s just so dangerous.” He sighs a bit. “Is she playing next year?” he asks, holding his wand out stil to sustain the color on the walls.

“Hm….” Sibyl muses, and tilts her head to consider the stripes. She raises her own wand again and makes a gesture of her own – the muted green lines narrow, and split, making a thinner, lighter pattern across the blue background. “There,” she says, with a satisfied smile. “How does that look?” Sibyl wriggles forward in her chair and pulls herself up, taking a few steps forward to get a closer look at the pattern before it fades away again. “I don’t know if she’s playing next year,” Sibyl continues, a little absently. “I know she wants to, but it depends on how her final examinations go. If she can’t keep her marks up, she won’t be playing again.”

“Maybe with a lighter blue,” Basil comments, drawing his wand along the way of each of the blue stripes to light them just slightly to match the green that he has put up there. “Much better,” he comments and smiles a bit while waving his wand to set the colors so that he no longer has to hold them with his wand. Turning to Sibyl again he sighs a bit. “I’d rather she didn’t play anyway. It’s just… so dangerous.” His comment does repeat itself with little difference from the last time he said it, but he seems to mean it just as fervently.

“Oh, perfect!” Sibyl cries, giving her husband a merry grin and a kiss on the cheek in response to his smile. “Yes, that’s going to look lovely!” And then Sibyl sighs, her own smile softening sympathetically, and slips her arm comfortingly through Basil’s. “I know, love,” she murmurs. “I’m the one to put all the children back together, when they get hurt. And I spend every match hoping that our Briony won’t be among them. But she hasn’t yet, and she loves it.” Fervor intensifies Sibyl‘s voice, even though her tone is still soft and soothing. “And she’s good, too,” she adds, with a ring of pride. “We’ll see how her marks are after this year,” Sibyl continues, giving her husband’s arm a gentle squeeze. “If she can’t pay attention to school and Quidditch, then…” She leaves the sentence unfinished, but the tilt of her head and the warning lift of her eyebrows imply the way it would have ended.

“She’d better be paying attention,” he comments and shakes his head a bit, glancing around the room. “I suppose we’ll have to fix the furniture to match,” he comments, glancing around at it all. “Maybe, er, tan?” he comments, not sounding entirely sure as he sits down on the furniture which is broken in quite well. Seemingly out of the blue he sighs and leans back. “I’m not sure how I’m going to get used to being home all day. At least the kids won’t be with Eva all day anymore.” Basil stretches back and looks around. “So, tan, do you think?”

“Mm. Perhaps,” Sibyl replies. With a sigh, she eases herself down onto the sofa next to Basil, and leans back, reaching out to wrap her hand around his. “You’ll find things to do. I know you will, love. The time fills up, when you’re taking care of the children and the house – sometimes without you even realizing it.” Sibyl stretches her feet out in front of her, and tilts her head to follow her husband’s gaze around the room. “Maybe tan, for some of the furniture. And some in green, to match the stripes?” She points to the large, squashy chair that she had been sitting in before. “I think that one would look lovely in green.”

“Sure,” Basil agrees, squeezing Sibyl’s hand. He pauses quietly, looking around the room. “It’s not the same as the house in Abbey Orchard.” Is this perhaps a bit of nostalgia from the man as he glances around at the walls with their partially affixed stripes. “I suppose I should have taken up your offer to teach me better cooking techniques when you wanted to teach me before,” he finally admits, glancing over to her. “I’m afraid I’m not very good at it.” Shaking his head, it almost seems as if Basil is having second thoughts about his change of employment.

“You pick that up pretty quickly too,” Sibyl replies comfortably, giving her husband’s hand another reassuring squeeze. “And I’ll be home all summer, so we can work on it together. I’m sure you’ll learn how to cook in no time – half of it is following recipes, and I know you’ll be good at that. Always so careful and exact.” Her smile softens fondly, and she shifts her weight on the couch, leaning closer to Basil and further back against the cushions. “We can see if any of the children want to help, too. I doubt Briony would stay still long enough to listen, of course.” Sibyl looks briefly heavenward, with a grin of affectionate exasperation. “But Alden and Alice might like learning to cook. Good practice for their Potions classes, too, really.” Her hand tightens around her husband’s again, and she adds, more softly, “You’re going to do fine, Basil. I know you will.”

“Briony’s little friend is going to be in Hogsmeade this summer, she said, so I don’t expect we’ll see any more of her this summer than last.” Basil shakes his head and slyly rolls his eyes. “She’s just like Eva that way. I’m still not sure how that’s even possible.” With a sigh, he shakes his head again. “It’ll do Alice and Alden some good, at least. Alden won’t be able to stay in the tower all the time.” Another pause and he looks at Sibyl with a smile. “I’m sure I’ll get used to it… I don’t know how you ever did it.” He pauses. “Maybe I can do my work by correspondence, and … take them with me on research assignments.”

Sibyl‘s only response to Basil’s observations about Briony is another comfortable, affectionate laugh, and a shake of her own head. “I know you’ll be able to do it,” she repeats, a little more seriously. “I think taking them on your research assignments is a fine idea. Finding little trips and things to take with the children is one way to pass the time, and to keep their minds – and your own – sharp.” Sibyl sighs, leaning farther back, as she muses, “It’s both harder and easier than you think, staying home with the children. I don’t know how I did it at first, but I got through it – and I was much younger and more foolish than we are now, when I left nursing to stay home with Briony.”

“I wonder if they’d let me do that,” Basil comments, leaning back. “Or…” The man’s face lights up as if he has thought of something brilliant. “Well, I doubt they’d let me back on since I quit like I did, and so quickly, but what if we wrote our own newspaper, Alden, Alice and me?” He looks to Sibyl with wide eyes. “We could send it to my family and to yours, or at least our parents, and keep everyone updated on things. It could be a way of writing letters almost.” He sits up, the fervor that often fired him up in his early days of journalism returning to his face after years of absence.

Sibyl knows that smile, and her own grows wider and warmer as she watches her husband’s face light up with enthusiasm. “That is an absolutely wonderful idea,” she pronounces. “The perfect thing to do! I can’t wait to read it. Truly, I can’t! I’ve missed so much of what’s been going on with the little ones, and this way, I’ll be able to know everything about what they’re doing. And once I start leaving this little one home for longer times,” Sibyl adds, giving her rounded belly a light pat, as her bright eyes shade towards wistfulness, “I’ll be able to keep up on what it’s doing, too.”

“Well, it can’t help all that much, I imagine,” Basil answers quickly, putting his hands on his knees. “But we’ll likely to be able to get the out weekly, if not more than that, and it will be good learning for them. Perhaps Alden will choose a career at the Prophet, or go on to do that Wireless thing that’s catching on so well, and he’ll rise to the top of his rank, and…” Basil trails off, “We can call it the Wexler Weekly, and create artwork for it, a specific design, everything. They’ll learn all about how a paper is created.” He leans back with a rather rapturous look on his face.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting the little one to contribute personally,” Sibyl laughs, giving her husband a playful nudge. “Just that you’d write about it.” As Basil starts to get caught up in his enthusiasm, Sibyl falls silent, letting him speak, and just watches, a warm, affectionate smile spreading her face as she watches her husband. “We’ll start this summer,” she offers. “So that Alden can have a chance to help before he goes off to school. And then you and Alice can keep it up after the term starts. Unless you’d like to keep Alden on as a traveling correspondent?” Sibyl is only half-joking – even though her tone is light, there is a core of honest interest and encouragement as she speaks about her husband’s new project.

“Oh, right. Right.” Basil shrugs as Sibyl points this out, seeming to let it roll off of him for the time being. “Oh, right, Alden is off to school, isn’t he? Hmm. Well, I suppose it could be Alice who goes into the Prophet after all.” The man shrugs again and smiles warmly to his wife. “I don’t know that he’ll have time to be a correspondent when he’s supposed to be worked on his studies. He isn’t to distract himself any more than Briony is.” He says this quite firmly and turns a bit on the couch to face her more closely. “It will still be good, though. Alice can help me copy things down and she’ll learn just as well.” He nods as he says this, though the inspiration does seem somewhat diminished as his team is lessened by this realization.

“Of course she will,” Sibyl agrees, lifting her head in unconscious defense of her youngest daughter. “Alice has a good head on her shoulders – I’m sure she’ll take to it. And if it turns out that it isn’t to her taste, well, at least she’ll have had a chance to try. They all will. And I’m sure that Alden will be very conscientious in his studies.” Sibyl glances up, as if her son were already in the tower room that had been reserved for him, and smiles fondly. “He’s going to do wonderfully.”

“He ought to for the amount of time he spends reading books. He doesn’t play with Eva’s kids the way Alice has been, so he ought to at last do well for the schoolwork.” Basil chuckles as he says this, leaning back on the couch and reaching his arm up over Sibyl as he turns a bit toward her. He reaches out tentatively and leans his hand on her belly. He almost seems as if he’s afraid, just as he had been with Briony, but this time, there’s more excitement and perhaps a bit of calm there, even. “Do you think it’s a girl or a boy?”

Sibyl leans comfortably back into the circle of her husband’s arm. “It won’t break if you touch it,” she says, as she has so many times before, with a soft, murmuring laugh. “And neither will I. And I haven’t any idea, really. It hasn’t given me any indication of what it might be. I still think that another boy would be nice, to make two of each, but I can’t be sure. And I don’t really like ask anyone to use Divination for something like this. I like surprises,” she finishes contentedly, lifting her own hand to cover her husband’s, spreading her fingers out across the wide rounded arch of her belly.

“Oh, Divination is mostly horsehockey anyway. The “seers” we had at the Prophet had no idea what they were talking about. Most of them predicted Diagon Alley would self-implode at least once a week, or else that all muggles would miraculously gain magical ability.” Basil sighs as he says this, rubbing his hand idly over her belly. “I hope it’s a boy, too. Alden’s told me no less than five times to make sure that it’s a boy. I don’t think he quite understands.” Basil chuckles as he says this. “I suppose I’ll have to explain it to him again. He still keeps telling me that girls are gross and he’s never going to want to marry one.” A pause. “You don’t think he means that, do you?”

“He’s young, and he quarrels with his sisters,” Sibyl reassures her husband. She lets her head tilt back and lets out a contented sigh under the soothing motion of Basil’s hand, and lets her own hand slip off, coming to rest on his arm as she continues, “You probably didn’t have a very high opinion of girls at his age, either. And I know I didn’t want to spend any more time around boys than I absolutely had to.” Sibyl smiles, and even though her eyes have drifted shut, her voice is still clear and alert. “When the time is right, he’ll like girls.”

“Well, no…” Basil admits, but then frowns. “But if you consider that Eva was all I had to go by, it’s no wonder I didn’t want anything to do with them.” He sighs audibly as he says this, but then reaches up and runs his fingers over Sibyl’s face. “But you’re not like Eva at all.” For Basil, this seems to be the highest possible compliment he can give. “I’m sure he’ll come around and find someone almost as good as his mother.” Basil still blushes as he says this, even after years of being married, he still has ‘newlywed’ moments.

She’s entirely ignored Basil’s comments about his own sister, but at the last compliment, a soft chuckle sounds, low in Sibyl‘s throat, and her smile broadens, and her eyes open long enough to catch the slight pinkening of her husband’s face. “You’re sweet,” she pronounces, lifting her head to plant a light kiss on his cheek, and then leaning back again. “Alden will turn out all right, because he’s got a good father whose example he can follow.” She lifts her hand to catch Basil’s in hers, twining her fingers through his for a moment, and then letting them slip away.

“I’m just honest, is all,” he tells her softly, drawing his hand down over her hair and smiling happily. “And if Alden’s got any brains in his head, then he’ll know that’s all he needs to get someone who he doesn’t deserve.” Sighing, he leans in and kisses her cheek gently. “Let’s hope he catches the lesson, though.” With a chuckle, he looks out into the room. “Merlin, it’s so big. I don’t know what we’re going to do, just Alice and the baby and me in this huge house. Why didn’t we get that tiny one closer into town? At least I wouldn’t feel like we’re wasting the space.” Basil begins to sound like a bit of an old woman as he says this, though it contrasts quite greatly with his face.

“Because when we’re all home on holiday, we’d be tripping over each other and getting our spells crossed and being utterly miserable,” Sibyl declares with absolute confidence. “And with all this space, we can have Christmas here.” Sibyl opens her eyes, and lifts her head to look around at the wide expanse of floor stretching from the living room through the dining room. “We can easily fit my family in here – maybe even some of yours, too. That’s what we’ll do with the space,” Sibyl concludes, lying back again, with a slightly dreamy note in her voice now. “When you have space, you can fill it with people.”

“We can go to my mum’s house if we want to see my family; I’d much rather have yours.” He shakes his head and laughs a bit, leaning back and leaning his head atop hers. “It’s been a little while since we saw your brother, anyway. Is he married yet, or does he still want you to fight his fights for him?” Clearly, Basil hasn’t been paying quite as much attention as he ought into family matters. “Oh, I guess we should have Gil over. Kalika’s expecting anytime now, I guess. I have to say, there are far too many Wexlers already; I figure this one will get overshadowed by its many cousins.” He sighs as he says this, the romantic thoughts having clearly slipped out of his mind now in favor of family thoughts.

A gentle, reproachful nudge is Sibyl‘s first answer to Basil’s question about her brother – still defending him, even as she says, “He’s doing quite well, thank you! And no, not married yet, but doing very well for himself. We’ll have him and my sisters up for Christmas. And yes, we can have a few of your brothers over, too. One at a time, if you prefer,” she adds, with a soft laugh. Sibyl tilts her head to the side, nestling closer to her husband as he leans in towards her. “But after the little one is born. And I’m sure it will do just fine with its cousins. No matter how many cousins there are by then…”

“Well, I just wanted to know, that’s all,” Basil defends himself, shrugging, though there is a grin on his face. “I just wanted to know if you should still be looking after him like at school. Do you think Briony’ll do that for Alden?” He pauses. “I should hope not. I’m sure I taught him to stick up for himself better than that.” A half-shrug comes from him and he sighs a bit. “Why do they have to grow up and go away, and do dangerous things? I mean, who knows how many things Briony could blow up by trying things she oughtn’t. And that Quidditch. I’m pleased that Alice doesn’t seem to want to do it. I don’t think either of them would like very much getting hit by a bludger.” He shakes his head at the thought of it, which clearly doesn’t please him. Always back to the Quidditch, as well.

“I should hope they’ll look out for each other,” Sibyl retorts, with just the slightest pointed note in her voice as she looks back up at Basil. When her husband resumes his familiar, fretful litany, Sibyl lets out a soft sigh of her own, and pats his hand again. “And they’ll look out for themselves. I hope our Briony won’t get hurt either, and I know how reckless she can be sometimes, but she’ll learn. We did,” she points out gently, with a little mischievous twinkle in her eyes now. “Potions mishaps, Transfigurations gone wrong…”

“Just… hopefully she won’t blow up the kitchen or something.” He shrugs and sighs as he says this, running his hand up and down her arm gently. He stops about the Quidditch for now, though. “We ought to see about making the table a little bigger for the dining room. It’ll fit now, full size, and except this one here,” he pats Sibyl’s stomach as he says this, “Everyone can reach it at full height anyway.” He chuckles as he says this. “I expect Alice is about to have another spurt. She’s done that thing where they get a little round before they grow really fast. Remember when Briony did that right before she went off to school?” He pauses. “Well, of course you do.” Basil shakes his head as he says this and smiles a bit, clearly having put the thoughts of danger out of his head for the moment.

“I do,” Sibyl replies contentedly. Now that her husband’s moment of anxiety seems to be passing, Sibyl lets herself relax a little more – there is no need to steady Basil, and no need to be on guard. “She shot right up, and I’m sure Alice will do the same. And I’m sure Alden’s getting taller, too – he’s almost up past my shoulder now. We’ll need to get new robes for all of them. Although Alice might be able to use Briony’s old school robes when it’s her turn. If there are any that Briony hasn’t put holes in,” Sibyl adds, with an affectionate laugh.

“I doubt that, really,” Basil comments with a rueful shake of his head. “Maybe if Alden’s not too big when he starts, she can use his robes from first year, but I doubt Briony will have any that are really salvagable.” He pauses. “And you know how much she hates hand-me-downs as it is; I’d rather not give her any that have been patched or look too worn.” It seems that Basil has been paying attention over the years after all. “She actually complained at me for it when she put on one of Briony’s old dresses and it was too wide for her. I guess I never realized that Briony was a bit, er, larger… I guess, than Alice.” He shrugs. It is, perhaps, a good thing that he has never noticed this.

“She complained at you?” Sibyl repeats, her voice rising a note or two in surprise and concern. “Oh, dear. Well, we’ll have to make more of an effort to get her a few new things this year. It will be tight – but with two of them just needing school-uniform robes instead of all sorts of new clothes, maybe we’ll have a few more Galleons left over to get Alice some new dresses. It’s hard on her being the youngest, I suppose – so few new things, the others always having gotten there first…” Sibyl trails off, grinning as she corrects herself, “Well, she won’t be the youngest for long. But that won’t make a difference in clothes, really.”

“Well, she did mention it once or twice, especially when I dug out some more of Briony’s old dresses. I think she might like it better if she had some new things of her own.” Basil shrugs a bit. “I imagine some of my brothers might’ve felt the same, since they got my own hand-me-downs.” After a pause, he retracts this statement. “Actually, only Logan did, because by the time he was done with them, they were too worn to go to Jared, Gilbert or Freddie. I don’t think Logan ever complained to me, though.” He shrugs and reaches up, running his fingers down over Sibyl’s hair. “I’ll do some features for the Prophet if I need to this summer. Then we won’t have to worry about it. We’ve paid for most of this house already, plus with our savings. I’m sure we could put off the vacation another year or so…” He sighs. “I’m sure we can manage it.” It seems fateful that Alice and Alden should both come tearing into the house, giggling between themselves. “Dad, have you got the paper? Briony told us you got posters for the walls, too… did you really? Do I have to have Quidditch posters in my room, really?” Alice chimes, coming to stop rather breathlessly near the couch where her parents sit cozily, Alden close on her heels. Briony comes tearing in just a moment later, laughing louder than the two previous had combined. “You cheated!” she calls, and this echoes through the whole of the house.

“We’ll manage,” Sibyl agrees, giving her husband’s hand another reassuring pat, and leaning her head into his hand, smiling at the affectionate gesture. And then – the storm hits. With a sigh of fond, amused exasperation, as her children go tearing through the still-empty rooms of the new house, Sibyl hauls herself into a more upright sitting position, calling out, “Slow down!” Despite her contented serenity of a few moments before, Sibyl juggles her children’s questions with a sudden, efficient ease. “Yes, we’ve got the paper, and yes, Briony may have whatever she likes on her side of the room and you may have whatever you like on yours, Alice, and Briony, careful, there’s going to be a table right where you just ran through, so don’t get too used to doing that!”

“Oh, really? But she doesn’t even live here most of the time? Can’t she put them at school?” Alice sighs loudly as Sibyl tells her this and seems resigned to it. Briony scoffs from her side of the room, but shrugs. “I’m going to go upstairs and pick my side of the room now. Last one up’s a rotten egg!” With that loud exclaimation, her footsteps are heard tromping up the stairs, while her brother and sister both protest. “No fair! You got a head start!” and they also make their way upward. Basil looks at Sibyl with raised eyebrows. “Do you see what you’ve left me to? The lion’s den…” He looks over his shoulder at the now-departed children, trying, momentarily to ignore the shouts and giggles from atop the stairs until he hears a rather loud thud and a shriek. “Oh, no.” His voice is rather flat as he says this and he closes his eyes. “I suppose we’d better go take care of that. Would you like some help up the stairs?”

“Oh no,” Sibyl says, almost in unison with her husband, and her eyes take on the alert, watchful look of the professional nurse. “Yes and yes,” she says quickly, already starting to wriggle herself forward, struggling out of the deep, soft cushions of the couch. “Oof. And a hand up, too, I think,” Sibyl sighs, reaching out to brace herself against her husband’s arm. “You’ll manage on your own, love – oof! I know you will,” she continues, her comforting words starting to be broken up by little grunts of effort as she starts to push herself up. “But better to – oof! – take advantage of it while we’re both here.”

Basil helps her up, and slips one arm around her as the two of them make their way toward the stairs. Though it is not their usual way of walking together, Basil seems to be doing just fine at helping her and slowly helps her toward and up the stairs. They disappear out of sight to deal with whatever it is that has happened upstairs, going about the usual family way of things, though perhaps in a more subdued and pleasant mood than might usually be.

Bustling alongside her husband, her arm looped through his, Sibyl Wexler makes her way down the winding streets of outer Hogsmeade at an energetic waddle. “Oh, this is lovely!” she breathes, tilting her plump, pregnancy-rounded face up to gaze at the budding trees that arch overhead on the picturesque street. “A bit out of the way of the center of town, but oh, it’s beautiful! Where’s the house that the estate agent was talking about, love? You’ve still got the card with the address on it, don’t you?” Sibyl returns her attention to earth in a sudden buzz of practicality, but her dreamy smile remains.

“It’s right here,” Basil responds, holding the card out as he looks from the card, then back up at the house. “Do you think we’ll be allowed to look inside? I’ll want to make sure it’s sturdy enough. It doesn’t look like it’s got a good foundation on it. Likely very shoddy.” Looking at houses all day has got the man a little irritable and perhaps a bit hypercritical, but even he seems pleased with this one more than the others that they have looked at so far. “Tell me, why did I agree to this again?” he asks for what must be the fiftieth time.

“Of course they’ll let us inside,” Sibyl replies soothingly, giving her husband’s arm a pat. “And you can look at the foundations and beams and everything to your heart’s content.” She unlaces her arm from Basil’s, and moves up closer to the house – a large, slightly aging building with a small tower sticking up at the top, and elaborately carved woodwork around the eaves, painted in a cheerful shade of yellow with dark green trim. “Now isn’t that lovely,” Sibyl muses. “Look at the tower – I bet Alden would love that, being off in his own little world…” Sibyl tilts her head, studying the house with narrowed eyes, sharp and critical despite her cheerful daydreams. “And you’re doing this because you want to move closer to us, love,” she adds, her voice and gaze softening as she looks back at her husband. “And we’ll all be happier if we’re living closer together.”

“I hated looking for houses the first time around,” Basil comments and walks up to the house, pushing on an outer wall, as if the house might crumble as he does this. “Can you tell how long it’s been since someone last lived here?” He wonders aloud. “Why did they move to begin with, anyway? What’s wrong with the place that they didn’t want to stay?” Basil appears to be full of doubts, even about this, the best and nicest house yet. “Perhaps we ought to talk to that agent and see what he has to say about this one, whether he can point out what its problems are.”

“I know, love,” Sibyl soothes, waddling over to Basil to give him another pat on the arm. “But once we find one that we like, we won’t need to look again for a good long time. And I’d like to take a look without the agent first,” she continues, moving on to survey the shutters, poking up at them with one critical finger. “You know, discovering things on our own?” The grin that Sibyl aims back over her shoulder at her husband is touched with just a hint of conspiratorial mischief. “And then we’ll hear what he thinks.” She reaches a hand out to Basil, beckoning him towards her. “Come on – let’s see if it’s unlocked!”

“Well, I suppose if nobody lives here…” He agrees, though reluctantly. After all, it was what they were here for anyway, right? Striding up to the door, he jiggles the handle apprehensively and glances around, and then pushes the door open. “I guess it’s unlocked,” he comments and shrugs. Basil doesn’t look entirely pleased by this, but he steps inside the house nevertheless, pausing in the entry hall as his voice echoes throughout the empty rooms. “Well, it’s got space, at least,” is all he can say at first as he looks around, scrutinizing the ceiling.

“Oh, my, I didn’t think it would be!” Sibyl cries, hurrying after Basil with an excited, girlish giggle. “Oh, it’s lovely! Look at that chandelier in the dining room – do you think those are spots for real candles, or those new Automatic Ever-Burners?” The floor creaks slightly under her quick, heavy footsteps as she moves around the living room and dining room – not enough to suggest that it is unsound, just old and creaking in the way that old houses do. “And yes, look at that ceiling! Plenty of space in here!” Sibyl reaches up to run a finger across the mantel of the enormous fireplace, rubbing the dust off with a critical frown, but what she says is, “Lovely big fireplace – plenty of room to Floo in,” as she moves past. “Is the kitchen this way, do you think?” Her voice floats back through the echoing empty rooms as she moves off through the dining room towards the back of the house.

Basil, for his own part, is more concerned about checking the steps of the stairs, the bannister, the walls, the ceilings, and almost every structural aspect of the home, as if bound and determined to find something that could damn this house as well. “The stairs are solid,” he comments, and though his voice still echoes through the emptiness of the house, it doesn’t echo loudly, since he is more intent on checking them over once more, while also checking the bannister again as he descends the stairs. “How’s the kitchen?” he calls.

“Oh, good,” Sibyl calls back. “Don’t go up without me, love.” Her heavy footsteps recede towards the back of the house, but her voice is strong enough to carry through the network of doorways and corners. “The kitchen is wonderful! There’s a huge fireplace in here too, and – oh, plenty of cabinet space, and one of those new cutting boards that cuts the vegetables for you. Everything’s very well-kept – oh, and there’s a back door that leads to a garden in back.”

“There’s a garden?” Basil comments and looks around the corner into what looks like it might have been a livingroom. He walks through the room, stepping carefully on the boards, checking for creaks. “It looks like it has hardly been lived in. How peculiar,” he comments, stepping over to yet another fireplace that the house holds and pushing on the mantlepiece with a scrutinizing gaze. “Did the agent say how many fireplaces this house was supposed to have? I mean, how many do we need?” he comments, looking over the walls in the room, which also seem to be adorned with sconces.

“I think they said three fireplaces?” Sibyl replies, her voice lowering as she waddles back out into the dining room, drawing closer to Basil again. “And four bedrooms – well, four bedrooms and one more ‘extra room,’ they said. I think that extra room must be the one in the tower, and I do think Alden would love that, if it’s the sort of room I think it is. Here, let’s take a look upstairs. Unless there’s anything else you’d like to see down here?”

“Three…” he comments and crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, I don’t want him to be stuck up in that tower as his bedroom. He’d never come down.” As his wife suggests looking over the upstairs, he nods and walks toward the stairs. “Do you need some help up, Sibyl? They’re sturdy stairs, but I imagine they’d be a little akward?” Basil pauses at the foot of the stairs as he says this, waiting for Sibyl to join him, his arms still crossed.

“He would when he’s ready,” Sibyl replies, her voice taking on the familiar soothing tone that it so often must when she’s talking about her son to her husband. She starts to follow Basil towards the stairs, her eyes narrowing skeptically as she measures the angle and steepness. “Well. . . yes, I think I might need a hand up,” Sibyl sighs, and slips her hand through the closed-off crook of her husband’s arm, giving him another reassuring squeeze. “Come on. Let’s see the upstairs.”

Holding his arm out and uncrossing his arms, Basil reaches one arm around Sibyl and reaches the other out to hold her hand and help her up the stairs. “It’s the one very good thing, though, that these stairs are so good. No worries about Alden or Alice or Briony falling through at any time.” He makes his way slowly up the stairs, helping Sibyl all the way. “So there are four bedrooms? I suppose, then, we can have one for each of them to sleep in, rather than Alice and Briony sharing the room?” He pauses as he finally reaches the top of the stairs, looking down the hallway that follows, and peers at a rope that hangs down at the end.

Leaning heavily back into the supporting circle of her husband’s arm, Sibyl makes her way awkwardly up the stairs. “No – no chance of – anyone falling,” she agrees, puffing slightly with exertion on the steep climb, but giving Basil an affectionate grin through her reddened cheeks. “Yes – that’s right. Unless they want to share, of course.” With a breathless sigh of relief, she straightens up again upon the return to flat ground. “Although Briony’s getting to the age where she’s probably going to want her own – Oh my,” Sibyl interrupts herself to say, and reaches out to catch hold of Basil’s arm again. “What’s that?” she asks, pointing to the rope with her other hand. “A trap door to the attic, do you think?”

“I suppose that’s what it is,” he responds, releasing his support of Sibyl as he goes to look into the nearest room. “How excessive,” he comments, pausing in the doorway to spy a room with a long windowseat, and a large open closet. “Who needs this much space in a bedroom?” Basil turns and looks over his shoulder at Sibyl before stepping the rest of the way into the room. Sconces line the walls and he walks around the room, tapping periodically on the walls to test their resiliency and solidity.

Sibyl‘s heavy footsteps creak on the floor as she moves to follow her husband. “Oh, it’s lovely!” she breathes, peering through the door into the room. “Basil, that could be our room! Look at that closet – and you can see the back garden from the windowseat! It would need a coat of paint or two, but that’s easily done.” She cocks her head, listening to the sound of her husband’s hand knocking against the walls. “Do you hear any hollow places?” Sibyl asks, her eyebrows lifting mischievously. “I’m sure a wonderful old place like this has at least one secret passage.”

“Nothing hollow,” Basil states quickly, then pauses to look at Sibyl. “Secret passage ways? Oh no. No, no. Eva used those far too much for ill purposes. I’ve never seen the point, anyhow.” He shakes his head and comes to stand in the middle of the room. “The walls in here are solid at least. The pink paint makes me think that it must have been a girl’s room before.” He pauses. “It’s far too big to put a child in, though.” He shakes his head again. What is it that Basil has against this house, which makes him critisize it so heavily?

“Which is why I said it should be our room, and why we can paint it,” Sibyl declares, a note of reproach in her voice in response to Basil’s negativity tempered by affection and a kiss on his cheek. “Come on, love, let’s look at the rest of the rooms. And at that place with the rope – although if it goes to one of those pull-down ladders, you’re going up it by yourself!” she adds, with a bright laugh. Still, Sibyl‘s eyes are slightly narrowed as she looks up at Basil, and she searches his frowning expression with a little concern of her own.

“Well, I suppose so. It could use better wallpaper, that’s for certain.” He shrugs and turns, making his way out of the room and crossing the hall. Looking into the next room, he seems almost perplexed at seeing an almost duplicate copy of the one opposite it, though the size is ever so slightly smaller. “The extravagance…” he comments and shakes his head. “Did the agent listen to our price requests? This must be terribly expensive to have such area.” Basil‘s eyebrows knit together and he turns to look at Sibyl. “I mean, two rooms of this size, and who knows how large the third is, plus the tower? We aren’t made out of money.” The man looks genuinely concerned.

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Sibyl asks in honest surprise, her eyes going wide as she hurries to keep up with her husband. “Basil, love, I’m working now, too, you know. We’ve got more money now, and even if this house is at the top of our range, it’s still in our range.” Sibyl reaches out to put her hand on Basil’s arm again, soothing and steadying. “Really, love, it will be all right. The last room looks much smaller,” she continues, pointing down the hallway towards another half-open door. “That will be perfect for the nursery. And look, there are the steps up to the tower…”

“If we put the nursery in here, and then put Alice and Briony over there, in the blue room…” Basil pauses and looks to the stairs toward the tower, a sense of resignation seeming to settle over him. “I suppose Alden will have to sleep up there, then.” Striding past the rope hanging down for what appears to be a separate attic, Basil starts slowly ascending the narrow stairway, testing each step as he goes. “This bedroom is quite as big as the others are,” he calls, sounding quite shocked as he starts stomping the floor to test the floor boards and tapping the walls.

“He’ll love it, Basil,” Sibyl reiterates, but her voice is still gentle, and softened by the affectionate thought of her son as she gazes up the stairs towards the tower. “He’d ask for it himself, once he saw this place.” Her voice echoes off of the narrow walls of the tower staircase, and a footstep creaks on the bottom stair. “It’s that big, really?” Sibyl calls up. “Here – let me see if I can get up there…”

“They’re narrow stairs, do you need some help?” Basil calls down, though, the fact that she’s started her way up does make it difficult for him to help in this case. He does go to the stairs and descend several steps, looking down at her with a concerned expression on her face. “Do you?” Pausing, he looks back over his shoulder. “I can assure you it’s every bit as big as the other rooms. Alden wouldn’t suffer for it, though he’d best not use the stove that’s up here without warning.”

“Yes, I think I do,” Sibyl admits with a sigh, and reaches up to her husband with one hand, still leaning heavily on the railing with the other. “Just a bit of a tug, thank you, love. And I’m sure Alden will be happy that his room is as big as the others. Really, having the three older children’s rooms the same size will make everything much easier – nobody can quarrel over whose is bigger. And we’ll check out that stove before anyone uses it,” she adds – for once, Sibyl‘s adamance matches her husband’s in matters of safety.

“Alright,” he comments and steps downward to take Sibyl’s hand and help get her up the stairs. “I don’t suppose he’ll have much reason to use it anyway. He’s never had any interest in cooking or anything of that sort.” After Sibyl has been helped up the stairs, he lets go of her hand and steps into the room. “There’s good light, though. And we’ll want to change the wallpapering. Alden won’t like the yellow.” He shrugs a bit and taps on the wall. “It’s all built well, at least. Nothing weak or breaking.” Basil walks over to the window and looks out with a bit of a shudder, quickly looking back in.

“Oof! Thank you, love,” Sibyl says again, with a soft grunt of exertion as she hauls herself up the stairs. “Oh my – oh – very nice,” she agrees, still panting as she tries to catch her breath. “Lovely – lovely view. And yes – we’ll let him choose the color. We could let each of the children choose the color of their room – they’ll like doing that. Choosing within reason, of course,” Sibyl adds with a grin, holding up a hand to forestall the protest that she predicts is coming from her husband. “And Briony only gets one pick – she can’t change her mind after it’s done.”

“She’ll have to agree with Alice about it, and I’ll say it now — no Quidditch papers. Alice would never forgive her.” Basil chuckles a bit, thinking of how different each of their children is. “Well, she’d never forgive us, either.” He shrugs as he says this. “I guess we should go talk to the agent about this? It’s more than big enough for us.” He looks to Sibyl, directly not looking out the window, and reaches to put his arms around her. “And hope he doesn’t arrest us for coming in without asking, I suppose.” Basil diverts his eyes as he says this and then shrugs. He won’t think of it for this moment.

Sibyl slips her arms around her husband, leaning up against him – but also turning him away from the window with its dizzyingly high view, as she reaches up to gently guide his face down towards hers for a soft kiss. “Don’t worry, love. It will all work out.” When Sibyl tilts her head back, she is already grinning widely. “I knew you would love it!”

“Well, it’s going to need some work before we can call it ours, but I suppose it’s alright.” This is Basil-speak for ‘I don’t think we could have found anything better anywhere in the country.’ “Should we go straight to the agent?” he asks, turning completely away from the window so that he doesn’t end up glancing out it anymore. “I don’t want someone else getting it first, and then us have to go searching again.” It is very clear that he has not entirely enjoyed their house-hunting excursions.

Perfectly familiar with translating from Basil to Everyone Else, Sibyl lets out a bright laugh, and plants another kiss on her husband’s cheek. “Yes, let’s do that. I would hate to lose such a lovely house!” Sibyl slips her arm through Basil’s tugging him gently towards the staircase – and away from the perilous view of the window. “Oh – and we should see what that rope is, too, on the way down.”

“Perhaps we should wait for the agent to go look at that. After all, who knows what’s up there, and if we make a mess, I’d hate to lose the house for — er — breaking in.” He shrugs and pauses as he gets to the stair case, bracing one arm on the banister and holding the other up to help Sibyl down. “Let’s take it slow. These are narrow stairs.” Should Sibyl give him her hand, Basil starts to make his way slowly down the stairs backwards until he’s down on the landing of the second floor again. “As soon as we get it, we’ve got to go get some new paper. Do you think we’ll be able to borrow Briony for a weekend?”

An unaccustomed bit of apprehension flickers in Sibyl‘s eyes as she looks down the steep, narrow stairs – but it eases into a fond smile when Basil edges around her, and she holds her hands out to her husband, leaning steadily on his supporting hands. On flat ground again, Sibyl lets out a heavy breath, half gasp and half sigh, and leans sideways towards Basil for a moment, resting against him. “Oh, I’m sure we will. There’s a Hogsmeade weekend coming up, so most of the students will be gone anyway – I’m sure we could get her then.”

“These ones aren’t so narrow,” He comments, sliding his arms around Sibyl and pausing for a moment before starting down the next set of stairs slowly. “I’m so glad we found something. I was beginning to think we’d just have to build something, and I tell you, I don’t want to try to build while I’m trying to keep up with Alden and Alice and still working at the Prophet.” He shakes his head slowly and finally reaches the bottom of the stairs. “So, to the agent now?” Basil looks to his wife as he says this, pausing very close to the front door.

“It’s all worked out,” Sibyl murmurs, under the steady, fretful stream of her husband’s anxious words. She slips her arm around Basil’s back in return, giving him a gentle, reassuring hug at the same time that she pulls herself closer to lean more heavily on him as they begin their slow descent of the staircase. “Yes,” she replies, with a smile. “Let’s go to the agent. I’ve told them to expect either an owl or a visit sometime soon.” Despite Sibyl‘s soothing tone, her enthusiasm continues to bubble just below the surface, rising up in another excited grin as she looks around the first floor of the house. “Isn’t it wonderful?” she asks, pulling her husband closer.

Nodding to Sibyl, Basil leans in to kiss her cheek. “It’s terrific,” he tells her as sincerely as he can manage, which is pretty good, all things considered. Stepping outside, he breathes in deeply. “Not a moment too soon. It’s starting to get dark, and Eva will wonder what’s keeping us.” Whether she actually will or not is debatable, but it is clear that Basil wants to finalize this as quickly as possible. He begins down the road and starts walking toward where the agent’s shop is, intent on making the deal as quickly and as frugally as he can.

The door to the Wexler residence opens, and the cheerful voice of Sibyl Wexler echoes down the hallway. “Basil? Love, are you home?” Her step is a bit heavier these days, even when she is not weighed down by the wealth of packages that she carries now. Baskets in bright springy pastel shades of yellow, green, and purple; enormous chocolate eggs wrapped with fluffy ribbons, and other Easter treats fill Sibyl‘s arms, balanced between her hands and the convenient shelf of her ever-increasing stomach. “Basil?”

“In here!” Basil calls from the kitchen, where he looks a bit harried as he leans over the kitchen table, his wand pointed at an egg, presumably hard-boiled, There are three bowls of them on the table: one of brightly colored and decorated eggs, another with rather poorly colored eggs in it, many of them cracked or smashed, and the third, a bowl full of white eggs, yet to be decorated. The man’s hair is mussed and his face is one of pure concentration, as if his life is dependent on making these eggs look right.

“Oh, Basil!” Sibyl cannot help the affectionate laughter that bubbles up, despite her honest sympathy for her husband’s agitation. She leans forward, letting the precarious stack of parcels tip out of her arms onto the counter, then bustles over to stand behind Basil, edging close enough to lean her arm against his, and tip her cheek to rest on his shoulder as she looks down at the disarray of eggs. “I like the green one,” Sibyl offers, pointing at one of the neater ones, then tilting her head up to plant a kiss on his cheek. “How long have you been at this, love?”

“I dunno, what time is it?” He responds in a rather tense-sounding voice as he finishes a pink and white egg that seems to have frills spinning around it delicately. Who knew Basil was so creatively-minded? However, he does look up at the clock and runs his hand over his hair with a sigh. “Three hours,” he answers with a shake of his head. “I’m nearly done, though,” he answers, directing to the middle bowl, in which there are only five eggs left to do. “Wow,” he comments, looking at the parcels that Sibyl has brought in. “Wait, did you bring those all on your own? You didn’t have anyone help you?” His obvious concern — which reared its head in all of her previous pregnancies as well — makes an appearance here as he strides over to look at everything she brought home. “Really, you should have gotten help!”

“Three hours? Oh, Basil, dear, take a rest!” Sibyl cries, her own automatic concern taking over. But when she hears how close he is to being finished, Sibyl sighs and shakes her head, conceding, “Well, that’s good, at least.” She follows after him as he moves to the counter – not quite waddling yet, but definitely not as light on her feet as she usually is. “Don’t worry, love, it wasn’t bad at all. Really, it wasn’t!” Sibyl reaches out to loop her arm reassuringly through her husband’s. “I Apparated in from Diagon Alley – it didn’t take two minutes to walk home. And they weren’t heavy at all. And I got those caramel-filled eggs that you like,” she adds, giving Basil’s arm an affectionate squeeze.

“Well, you shouldn’t– oh?” Basil is, for once, mulled by the mention of sweets. “Did you get them from– er, the ones that Maura makes?” Basil apparently doesn’t feel like getting worked up about his sister today. “Those are the only ones I like, you know,” He does open up one of the bags to peer in, rather like a child in his sly pursuit for his caramel-filled eggs. He grins a bit at Sibyl, reaching up with his free hand to smooth his head rather than root through the sweets and goodies she has brought home for easter.

“Which is why I got them for you,” Sibyl declares, with a satisfied nod, and another fond squeeze of her husband’s arm. “Not there, love,” she adds, reaching forward to push open another of the bags. “They’re in this bag. And yes, I got them from Cordial Confections. Where else?” She lifts up on tiptoe for just barely long enough to give Basil another kiss on the cheek, and then thumps heavily back down to the ground. “How are the little ones?” Sibyl pokes her broad hand into one of the other bags of sweets, snitching a tiny dark-chocolate egg to pop into her own mouth.

“Brilliant,” he answers, more in response to the comment about the eggs than about their children. He reaches in and slyly pulls one out, shedding it of its wrapper quickly before tossing it to land in the bowl full of ‘dud’ eggs. “They’re outside playing with the neighbor kids. I think they’ve been bored all day. All Alden can talk about is Hogwarts.” Basil reaches his arm around to bring his wife closer. “D’you think he’ll be Gryffindor like Briony was?”

“I won’t bother them, then,” Sibyl decides, but her head turns towards the window, and there is a slightly wistful tinge to her smile. “They’ll be in soon enough.” Sibyl moves into the circle of her husband’s arm, leaning her head comfortably on his shoulder. “Oh, I’m glad he’s getting excited about it,” she continues, her smile warming as she speaks about her son. “I’d love to see another of our children in Gryffindor. He’s so quiet and sweet, but he might have the spark in him yet. Even if he doesn’t, I’m sure he’ll find a way to be happy no matter which House he ends up in.”

Basil does not dare to say it out loud, as, of course, this would be rather unfair to his son, but, still, the man can hope for another Gryffindor in the family. “I wouldn’t say no to a Ravenclaw, of course,” he does comment with a bit of a chuckle, reaching in and pulling out another caramel-filled egg and popping it into his mouth as he tosses the wrapper to the same fate as the previous one. “How’s life at Hogwarts? Is Briony staying out of trouble?” Basil pauses. “Do you need to sit down, dear? Aren’t you tired from your trip?”

“Well…” Sibyl hesitates for a moment, then admits with a sigh, “It would be nice to put my feet up for a bit.” She moves over to the kitchen table and eases herself down into a chair, letting out another audible sigh of relief as she kicks off her shoes and swings her feet up onto the chair opposite. “I know, I always say ‘no feet on the furniture,’ but I can break my own rules once in a while.” There is a mischievous twinkle in Sibyl‘s eyes as she grins over at her husband. Her hand steals behind her to rub at her lower back as she continues, “Things are going very well at school. The Quidditch season is nearly over, thank goodness – I’ve seen enough bruises and broken bones coming through the infirmary to last for several years!”

“None were Briony’s, were they?” Basil asks quickly, his eyes snapping onto Sibyl’s face, while a worried expression spreads over his own. She’s his daughter, after all, despite how much she resembles his own sister. “She’s not going to play next year, if so.” Basil finds himself a bit heated as he says this, and then clears his throat and shakes his head, as if to stop being so stodgy and paranoid. As if out of habit, he reaches out and begins to rub one of Sibyl’s feet gently, still waiting for the answer, despite his previous outburst.

“Oh, no!” Sibyl protests. She reaches swiftly out to touch her husband’s arm in reassurance – but she cannot bend forward quite enough to reach him, and drops back with a heavy sigh, settling for words only. “Briony wasn’t hurt at all, love, don’t worry! And she’s doing marvelously.” Almost despite herself, Sibyl lets out another sigh, deeper and more relaxed, as Basil starts rubbing her feet. “Mmmm…..oh, darling, that feels wonderful. Thank you.”

Basil smiles at Sibyl rather happily as she seems to enjoy this, even still. After all, some things never change! The man just continues his rubbing. “Well, that’s good at least. She hasn’t written to me in a while again. I imagine she’s too busy with that older fellow of hers.” The man does not look pleased at this statement, and even makes no attempts to wipe the look from his face. “What he wants with her concerns me. He’s sixteen, and she’s only twelve. He’s far too old for her. She’s too young to like boys, anyway.” After all, Basil had not even noticed Sibyl from any other girl until his Fifth year.

“It’s nothing serious, Basil.” Sibyl shakes her head fondly at her husband’s protective warnings. “She’s got a bit of a crush, and he – well, if he tries anything improper, I’ll be right there to put a stop to it.” The affectionate smile that Sibyl had given to her husband shifts, and for a moment, her eyes meet Basil’s with equal resolve, and equal parental protectiveness. “Nothing will happen,” Sibyl repeats, her voice and expression softening again, and after a moment, she lets her eyes drift close, and her head tip back, relaxing under the soothing motion of Basil’s hands.

“I’m just glad you’re there to keep an eye on him. I can’t imagine what would happen if that boy were left to his own designs.” Basil‘s voice is a bit gruff as he says this, but he continues rubbing the one foot, while scooting his chair closer to better help with the other. “Should I be getting you to bed already? They must be working you to exhaustion at Hogwarts.” He shakes his head and seems to tut a bit, almost like a mother might do. And perhaps it’s a habit he got from his own mother.

Sibyl nudges Basil’s hand reassuringly with her foot, murmuring again, “I’ll be right there.” She tilts her head up again, opening her eyes to say softly, “I won’t say not to worry, because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be a father. But I will be there to take care of her, love.” She falls silent for a moment, letting her husband shift around, and then shakes her head in response to his next question, her smile returning. “Soon, but not now,” Sibyl replies. “I get so little time to spend with you and the little ones that I don’t want to fritter it away by sleeping.”

“Well, there’s always tomorrow, of course,” the man states as he runs one finger rather sneakily up the bottom of her foot. “I’m sure Alice and Alden will be in soon, though. I told them not to be long, since you’d be coming home.” Basil pauses again, looking over the table. “I suppose I should finish the eggs. There are five there… perhaps I should put our names on each of them.” Leaning over to pat Sibyl’s belly, he chuckles. “Too bad there aren’t six, or I’d do one for this one, too.”

“Well, I’ll happily eat two,” Sibyl replies with a comfortable laugh, poking her husband playfully with her toe in response to his tickling. “And we wouldn’t have a name to put on the sixth, anyway. Or we could put the whole list of names that we’ve been thinking of, if we had a very large egg,” she adds, laughing again as she folds her hand over Basil’s to pat her rounded belly. “Well, I trust you to get those last five done. Unless you want my help, of course? It was always fun to color eggs with you and the children…”

“You could help,” Basil answers almost too quickly. “I’ve never been very good at the pink and girly ones,” he answers, picking up the pink egg with frills on it for demonstration. “Not my specialty.” He chuckles a bit and picks up an egg, holding it out so Sibyl. “That is, if you feel up to it,” he adds, still holding the egg out and drawing his wand, setting it onto the table while he waits for her decision.

“Pink and girly it is, then,” Sibyl agrees, with a warm laugh. She swings her feet down from the chair on which they rest, and reaches down to push herself up, letting out a little “Mmph!” of effort as she lifts her belly up. “I’ve had plenty of practice with Color-Changing spells, lately,” she adds, as she pads over to her husband. “They’ve been working on them in some of the Transfiguration classes, and something always goes wrong.” Sibyl shakes her head, looking heavenward with an expression that is part amusement, part sympathy, and part exasperation. “Here, shall I do this one for Alice, then?” she offers, reaching out to pick up the egg.”

“Sure,” he answers, chuckling. “Do all that many of them acutally manage to change themselves colors, then?” He shakes his head, pointing his wand at the egg that he has picked up for his own doing. “I think some of them do it on purpose. I’m certain Eva did when she managed it that time in school. Mum was furious. I’m just glad I wasn’t there for it.” Basil chuckles and shrugs, grinning at Sibyl as he puts a blue swipe, before turning the rest of it green, and beginning to carefully write his own name onto it in the form of ‘Dad’.

Sibyl says, “Oh, there have been one or two every week,” %n replies with a soft laugh. She fishes her wand out from a pocket somewhere deep in the voluminous folds of her robe, chatting comfortably away as she turns the egg this way and that. “Some of them do do it on purpose, even though they’d never admit it. There was one girl who came in a particularly lovely shade of lavender. It matched her hair ribbons perfectly.” A quick flourish of %n’s wand, and then a light tap on the egg – and it too turns lavender. “About that shade, I think.” %n taps it again, and the egg pinkens a little. “Ah, there we go,” %n says. “Alice will love that color.”"

“Oh, there have been one or two every week,” Sibyl replies with a soft laugh. She fishes her wand out from a pocket somewhere deep in the voluminous folds of her robe, chatting comfortably away as she turns the egg this way and that. “Some of them do do it on purpose, even though they’d never admit it. There was one girl who came in a particularly lovely shade of lavender. It matched her hair ribbons perfectly.” A quick flourish of Sibyl‘s wand, and then a light tap on the egg – and it too turns lavender. “About that shade, I think.” Sibyl taps it again, and the egg pinkens a little. “Ah, there we go,” Sibyl says. “Alice will love that color.”

“I’m sure she will,” Basil agrees and laughs a bit. “There, I think they’ll know who this one belongs to, don’t you?” he comments, brandishing the ‘Dad’ egg to her and chuckling as he sets it aside. “Now, for Alden’s.” He pulls out another one, first turning the thing black, then changing his mind, and turning it yellow. A third color change, and it’s green. “Much better,” he comments aloud before putting some black stripes around the center of the egg. He turns it 90 degrees, and then carefully writes ‘Alden’ onto the egg, grinning as he sets the egg aside. “I’ve gotten a bit better at it,” he tells Sibyl with a laugh.

“Is that what you think?” Sibyl asks with a grin, in response to the choice of green for Alden’s egg, giving her husband a gentle nudge. “I thought you were putting him in Ravenclaw.” Sibyl taps her wand on the pinkish-lavender egg again, and a delicate white lacy pattern begins to spread over the smooth surface. “Oh, very nice,” Sibyl agrees, leaning over Basil’s arm to admire the writing. “He’ll like the stripes. Now, what do you think for Alice – purple writing, or dark pink?”

“How about yellow?” Basil suggests hesitantly, shrugging a bit in response to this question. He has set Alden’s egg down on the table, but he picks it up and shows the stripes. “Look, they’re black, not silver. Like I would do that to my own son.” Chortling a bit, he sets the egg back down, and picks up a third, clearly having a bit more practice at it than Sibyl has recently. Coloring this egg red to start, he looks it over, before putting small yellow stripes all around it. Soon, the thing looks rather Gryffindor-esque with its red background and thin, red stripes running around its circumference. Soon, a bit of silver is added to the egg, in a round circle on the front facing Basil, and it becomes clear that he is drawing a snitch — however misguided his drawing may be, as it is silver instead of gold. in the center of it goes the girl’s name, as neatly as he can manage it, and he brandishes the thing with a, “Ta da!” just as Briony herself was prone to as a small child.

“Lovely,” Sibyl declares, with a soft, affectionate laugh. There is real admiration in her voice, though, as she leans over to look at the intricate drawing on the red-and-gold egg. “Oh, that’s very nice! She’s going to love it, dear.” And Sibyl‘s smile softens, and she puts a hand gently on her husband’s arm for a moment – he has given his daughter an egg that she will love, even if he does have misgivings about her Quidditch playing. Then she withdraws her hand and shifts her grasp on her wand, holding it with careful control as she traces ‘Alice’ in curly white cursive letters across the egg in her hand. A tap of her wand turns the letters yellow – then silver – and then finally a deep purple, and Sibyl nods in satisfaction.

“All that’s left is yours, then, Sibyl,” Basil responds, putting the eggs that he has so speedily finished into the bowl of pretty eggs and holding out the last uncolored one to Sibyl. “Afterwards, I’ll go fetch the children. It’s getting dark anyway.” He says this so simply that it is clear that he has had quite a bit of practice now at being sole keeper of the house, though the children are more likely to have benefitted to his attentions than the house has. “I’m sure they’ll be glad to see you, I know Alice has missed you especially.”

“Oooh!” Sibyl sounds almost like one of the children herself, letting out a giggling squeal at the prospect of an egg of her own to color as she reaches out to take it. But the look she gives her husband has a quieter kind of happiness, and prouder, as she hears his comfort in dealing with domestic matters. “I can’t wait to see the little ones, either,” Sibyl replies. “Little ones,” she repeats, shaking her head at herself with a rueful laugh. “I must stop calling them that. Alden will be at school next year, and I know he hates being thought of as a child. And there will be a real little one soon enough. . .”

Basil does nod at this, clearly having heard his own earful from his son about this very issue. “I don’t think he’ll rest until we begin to call him by ‘sir’,” Basil chuckles as he says this and shakes his head. “I wish you could be around more. I miss you around the house,” he comments, reaching out to stroke her hand gently, some sadness invading his eyes as he looks down at the table and all of his hard work over the afternoon. “Alice will be so lonely with you away at school with Alden and Briony both, as well, this next year.”

“I miss you too, darling,” Sibyl says softly, curling her fingers gently around her husband’s. Her fond amusement at her son’s personality begins to shade into wistfulness, and the smile that she gives Basil is touched with sorrow. “And Alice, too. But I need to stay at Hogwarts. They need me.” Sibyl leans closer, rising up on tiptoes for a moment to give her husband a light kiss on the cheek as gentle consolation. “And I’ll come back as much as I can. Neither of us will have to miss any of our new baby’s growing up,” Sibyl promises, pulling her husband’s hand in to brush lightly across the curve of her belly. “You’ll see, love. We’ll figure it out.”

Nodding slowly, he leans down to kiss Sibyl on the cheek and then looks to the window with a shake of his head. “I had better go get the children,” he comments and rubs his hand over her belly quietly. Leaning down to kiss her cheak again, Basil stands fully and makes his way out the door towards the outside of the house and is gone, quite clearly to do as he has said and wrangle up his children to come indoors.

Eva Fallon seems to be looking a bit rounder in the waist lately. Again. Yes, indeed, Mrs Fallon is once again pregnant. While she looks a bit tired, and ever so slightly rumpled, the woman does not appear to mind this state of being. After all, she has been as such three times already! It is a quiet day in Cordial Confections for her, thankfully. Little Arnold is sleeping in his crib, a permanent fixture behind the counter now, and Josie, Essie and Charlotte are babbling to one another in various semblances of English while playing with little dolls. Aside from Maura, who is in the back room, presumably concocting some new type of sweets. Yes, it is a quiet day in the shop.

It’s a little difficult to tell that Sibyl Wexler shares her sister-in-law’s condition – she is a bit naturally plumper anyway, and her voluminous robes hide the slight rounding of her own stomach, except when she turns at certain angles. And her expression is brighter than it has been in weeks – the color is back in her ruddy face, and she glances up at her husband with a mischievously girlish grin as they walk through the door of the shop, arm in arm. “I feel as though we’re skiving off of class,” Sibyl laughs to Basil. “And the teacher will come and find us at any second. Oh, hello, Eva, dear,” she interrupts herself, lifting her voice to call across the shop to greet her sister-in-law.

“You rather are, Sibyl,” Basil responds, chuckling a bit as he accompanies her into the shop. He says nothing to his sister, but pays full attention to his wife. “Only, this time around, the teacher is you. So unless you intend to get yourself into trouble…” It seems as if Mister Wexler is a bit reminiscent of his school days the way he’s talking. Not that Basil ever snuck out of class or the commons. Not to be with Sibyl. Oh, no, never. “What did you want to get in here, dear?” Perhaps he is rushing a bit to get out of his sister’s shop, but Basil can’t help himself. He spends too much time here as it is.

Telyn was never one to deny herself of anything, and since becoming her, Morgawse is only just getting used to doing just that. The blond, decked out in obnoxious tight pink and red robes for the Valentine’s Day season, does her best to ignore the little voices of logic in her head as she steps into Cordial Confections. “Nice sort of rain today, isn’t it?” She comments politely to herself or anyone at all, throwing out a bright smile that challenges the drizzly weather with all ’round. She shakes off her hood of her cloak, patting down her hair. Telyn, or Morgawse rather, has never been pregnant, a fact that is quite easily assumed by the look of her. In all likeliness, to her chagrin, she never will be pregnant either. Her expression on brightens further at the sudden appearance of all of these sweets to her senses.

“Hullo, Sibyl, Basil,” Eva greets her relatives cheerfully offering a wave from behind the counter, then stooping to remove a candywrapper from Josie’s mouth. “The girls are playing nicely back here if you’re up for a visit. What brings you here today? Haven’t you got duties to attend to, madam Nurse?” Eva‘s voice is playful as she teases her sister-in-law a bit. “Or are you hear in search of a craving? I fear for Josie and Essie for how much candy I consumed with them. But, oh, those cravings.” She chuckles. “Maura’s just finished a brand new batch of Chocobats, if you like.” She pauses, glancing at the woman decked rather obnoxiously in red and pink. “Hello there,” she calls cheerfully. “Aren’t we festive for Valentine’s day?” She laughs a bit. “I suppose that is a bit early. Perhaps it’s an early Halloween costume, hmm?” It seems Eva‘s in an exceptionally good mood today.

Sibyl gives her husband an affectionate nudge in the ribs with her elbow. “I have today off with full permission of the headmistress, thankyouverymuch!” she declares to Basil and Eva alike, in a tone of mock dignity that is almost entirely offset by the laugh that finishes off the statement. “And… yes, actually.” A slightly sheepish blush reddens Sibyl‘s face along with the admission. “I’ve been dying for some of those licorice wands. Ordinarily I can’t stand them, but now, well…” She finishes with a shrug and another grin, and she leans over to rest her elbows on the counter to speak comfortably with her sister-in-law.

A hand is brought to her chest as Morgawse lets out a smooth giggle which leaves her with an intoxicating pearly-white grin across her lips. “Thank goodness someone pointed it out – I’d thought everyone had gone blind or something.” Pursing her lips in her smile as if she were preparing to whistle, the new customer lets out the remained of her giggles. “I find Autumn horrid, so this year I’ve taken it upon myself to boycott.” She waves her hand, “Halloween and the lot. But I wouldn’t dare deprive myself of sweets.” Saying nothing of the others’ current conversation yet, her eyes widen as she flash a glance around the store once more. She also seems to be in a good mood, but then, she always seems to be in a good mood.

Basil says, “I still don’t understand how you could crave those of all things.” Basil visibly shudders as he thinks of the taste of the licorice wands. Too many as a child had done that to him. The man leans up against the wall in a spot where there’s surprisingly no bins or decorations. He merely looks on as his wife and sister interact. Afterall, he still hasn’t forgiven Eva for… well, a lot of things. The man can’t help but admire her children, all of whom seem surprisingly well-behaved, given how their mother was as a child. Perhaps she’s grown up a bit. But no, Basil couldn’t go that far. Not yet. “Just get what you need, Sibyl. I can send more to you later if you run out.” He nods slowly, his eyes fixed on the three todlers and the infant.”

“I still don’t understand how you could crave those of all things.” Basil visibly shudders as he thinks of the taste of the licorice wands. Too many as a child had done that to him. The man leans up against the wall in a spot where there’s surprisingly no bins or decorations. He merely looks on as his wife and sister interact. Afterall, he still hasn’t forgiven Eva for… well, a lot of things. The man can’t help but admire her children, all of whom seem surprisingly well-behaved, given how their mother was as a child. Perhaps she’s grown up a bit. But no, Basil couldn’t go that far. Not yet. “Just get what you need, Sibyl. I can send more to you later if you run out.” He nods slowly, his eyes fixed on the three todlers and the infant.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place then. Have a look around. We’ve introduced many new sweets recently, for all palates.” Eva nods and smiles, glancing around the sparkling clean shop with a pleased expression. It is definitely more organized during school time than it ever is on holidays. “We’ve plenty of Licorice wands as well. For some reason, the kids didn’t like them as much this year.” Eva shrugs complacently and leans against the counter as well, smiling at Sibyl and giving the occasional glance to Basil, though she does not pester him as she usually might.

“Oh, goodness, I do understand,” Sibyl replies, tossing a grin over her shoulder to Morgawse. “Nothing’s wrong with skipping a season that you don’t like! And thank you, Basil love. I have a feeling that I may be asking for more sweets than any of the children!” Turning back to Eva, she continues, “Oh, yes, definitely licorice wands. And maybe some Ice Mice, too? And do you have any of the licorice-flavored sherbet balls?” Her smile brightens with girlish enthusiasm as she leans over the candy counter, peering eagerly at the assortment of sweets beyond it.

Morgawse Coupe-Fourre smiles, nodding to the woman as she introduces a bit of the merchandise and to Sibyl as well. “I always liked licori-” She ends her sentence short, tilting her head after she finally spotted the well behaved little tikes. Looking back to their mother, the young woman’s strong bright expression melts away, “Your babies are so well behaved!” She groans fondly, explaing further in a hushed voice, “I can’t wait to have children, myself…” Her smiles returns soon enough after she recovers from the cute children.

Shuddering visibly at how much licorice Sibyl is asking for Basil moves away to putter around the shop. Perhaps he would get something for Alice and Alden while he was here. After all, he had been so very busy at work lately, and the’d had to spend more and more time with Eva, or Henrietta, or even, on occasion, Kalika. The man was clearly feeling guilty. “Say, Sibyl. What’m I going to do once all of you are at Hogwarts, and I’m stuck home with the baby?” he asks casually, examining the bin of coloricious with a rather suspicious face.

“If you like, I can suggest for Maura to whip up some licorice truffles. She’s been working on truffles all day. I almost feel bad that I’m such a dunce at candy, but we’d rather not have to replace the back room all over again.” Eva snickers again and reaches down to hoist up Charlotte. “They’re doing alright today. The girls are just having fun with their dollies.” Now that their sister has been lifted, Josie and Essie both stand and peek around the edge of the counter to see who it is that their mother is talking to. Two little mouths seem to drop open at the bright colors and they toddle over to examine the robes. “Girls, you be have yourselves…” Eva states, watching them carefully, lest they bother anyone or anything.

“Oh, would you?” At Eva’s suggestion, Sibyl instantly brightens even more. “That would be simply wonderful, dear, thank you!” She reaches down to give an affectionate touch to the shoulders of Josie and Essie as each little girl toddles by, her grin softening as she looks down at her nieces. “We’ll figure out something, Basil, don’t worry,” she adds over her shoulder to her husband. Despite the bright confidence of the smile that accompanies her assertion, there is a hint of uneasiness in Sibyl‘s turquoise eyes as she glances around at the shop full of children. That’s all very well for a candy shop, but not for an infirmary…

Morgawse bends down to be more at the girls’ level, placing her hands on her knees, “Well Hell-ooo there! I’m Telyn, what might your names be?” She asks cheerfully, giggling as the two seem awe-struck by her ridiculous attire – not seeming offended in the least. She holds out a bit of the heart-embroidered fabric from her longer sleeves for them to inspect if they so wish.

Estelle, the more shy of the twins runs back from Morgawse, hiding herself with a bit of Eva‘s skirt, though she is still watching with interest. “My name is Josie. I’m thwee,” the little girl announces, holding up her hand for no apparent reason. She apparently has not quite gottne the hang of her Rs. “This one is Estelle; we call her Essie,” Eva adds, pointing to the one behind her skirt. “And this is Charlotte.” Charlotte seems to be staring with intense interest at the bright colors as well, though she says nothing. (A change, for once!) “I’ll make a note to Maura about it. I know we’ve still got plenty of licorice extract since the wands didn’t sell.” The former Wexler chuckles and looks from Basil to Sibyl. “He knows the kids are always welcome here, doesn’t he?”

“Are they really?” Sibyl asks, her attention instantly snapping away from the candy and back to her sister-in-law. “I mean, that’s very kind of you, Eva dear, and we do appreciate it.” Is there just a bit of emphasis on that last statement, as Sibyl looks pointedly at her husband, speaking quickly enough that he might not be able to get his own response out before hers? “But we wouldn’t dream of imposing. Another new baby to take care of, on top of your own? We’ll be all right for the summer, at least, and we’ve got plenty of time to think about it all.”

Morgawse Coupe-Fourre beams, “Well it is very nice to make your acquaintance Josie.” She turns to give a little nod to each of the girls in turn, “Estelle. Don’t be shy – I’m definitely no one to be afraid of.” “And hiiiii there, Charlotte.” “Such pretty names for such pretty girls.” Morgawse compliments, brushing a hand over her yellow hair, smoothing it down just in case it’s moved out of place. She tries to push a conversation with the only little girl who seems the most interested, however, “You’re three now. Hmmm.” She taps her chin cutely before she raises up her eyebrows and nods, “That’s pretty old.”

“No, Sibyl,” Basil states from his spot across the room, where he is gathering a conglomeration of sweets for the younger of his three children. “We’ll figure something out,” he says, his voice rather quiet as he seems to be thinking very seriously about what he’s going to get for Alice and Alden. Yes, toothflossing stringmints are appropriate. Into the little baggies they go. Basil is being rather antisocial at the moment, seemingly too consumed with looking over the various candy bins to be bothered with socializing.

“It isn’t an imposition, really it isn’t. I really do enjoy having the kids around.” Eva rolls her eyes as her brother continues to be rather caustic towards her. “How on earth did you fall in love with that stick-in-the-mud?” she asks Sibyl, then chuckles a bit. Charlotte just continues to stare wide-eyed at Morgawse, though Essie does come out from behind Eva‘s skirt a bit, watching more closely as the woman interacts with her sister. “I am old,” Josie states in all seriousness and nods to the woman. “That’s my mommy. She owns this shop with all the candies.” Indeed, Josie seems very proud of this fact. Eva can’t help but smile as her daughters are complimented. After all, she thought them beautiful, too. “Do you want a boy or a girl, Sibyl?” Eva asks with a smile on her face. She’s only just had her first boy, and is still finding out what having a boy child is like.

Even though her polite response had the same effect as her husband’s brusquer one, Sibyl shoots Basil a warning glance across the room, and a frown pinches the corners of her mouth for a moment, before she turns back to Eva with a softer expression and apologetic eyes. “We’ll have to talk about it,” Sibyl explains – and then her discontent flashes again, in response to Eva’s criticism of Basil, and she murmurs a reproachful, “Eva… ” She lets it go, though, and allows her sister-in-law to direct the conversation towards a less contentious topic. “Oh, I’ll be happy with either, really. Another boy might be nice, so we could have two of each, but as long as it’s healthy, I’ll be happy.” Her smile, never far from the surface, especially when she is talking about the coming baby, re-emerges, broad and warm.

“Really?!” Morgawse hisses in wide-eyed amazement, grinning. “I just have a little puffskein stand down the way… but I don’t have a whole big shop.” She nods, glancing around, “Does she ever let you eat some, sometimes?” Morgawse asks the question while glancing back over towards the eldest daughters, blowing up her cheeks to make herself look something like a chipmunk to poor Essie before glancing back to Josie with a smile.

“I’m sure you’ll have the most beautiful baby in the world, Sibyl,” Eva comments generously hugging a still gawking Charlotte. The girl is truly fascinated by the woman. “Well, next to all the other Wexler babies of course. I’d say it’s a, what,” She stops and counts in her head, four, seven, twelve, twenty-two… “Twelve or so.” Eva winks at Sibyl to show that she’s joking and pauses a moment. “Just… I’ve just had an inspiration. I’ll be right back.” She hoists Charlotte onto her hip and steps into the other room for a moment, which is not in fact very far from the front room. Returning she holds a closed box and sets it down. “You know, I had forgotten that Maura had whipped these up before. They’re licorice mint truffles. Not quite the same, but I’ve heard some people use mint to soothe as well. They’re only about a month or so old if you’d like them.” Eva opens the box, setting Charlotte down on her feet so that she might go back to her toys, or watch Morgawse, whichever suited her fancy.

Eva‘s eyes glance every now and again to her children, who are now both holding onto the sleeve of Morgawse’s robes, examining the fabric with interest. “Sometimes we get candies, but not too much, odderwise we get sick,” Josie answers Morgawse’s question with a beaming smile, displaying her tiny array of teeth.

“I’m sorry, Sibyl,” Basil comments quietly as he reapproaches the counter, and sets his two moderately sized bags down. He leans to give Sibyl a kiss on the cheek then looks at Eva pointedly. “We’ll take these, and whatever Sibyl’s having as well,” he tells his sister, almost as if she is a distant acquaintance rather than his youngest sibling. He carefully glances around the shop to make sure he’s left nothing out of order, and looks down at the small, neatly organized bags. Perhaps he’d spent too much time organizing them exactly to match. Then again, when giving treats, it was easier to make them perfectly identical than to have arguments, so he was sure his efforts would be worth it.

Sibyl lets out a soft, warm chuckle at Eva’s assertion about the Wexler babies. “Every one is the most beautiful,” she declares, and reaches out a conciliatory hand towards her husband, slipping it comfortably through his arm. “Those look perfect,” she murmurs reassuringly, following Basil’s nervous gaze down to the neat row of bags. “And oh, yes, some of those truffles with the mint too, please!” Sibyl adds to Eva, brightening even more. “Those do sound lovely, thank you! Yes, some of the truffles, and the licorice wands, and – oh, a quarter pound of the sherbet balls, too.”

Morgawse Coupe-Fourre grins, her voice gradually getting faster and faster and softer and softer, “Well you’re very lucky either way. When I was younger I didn’t get to have any sweets whatsoever… Of course now I compensate today by eating everything I seeeeeeee… which really isn’t very healthy and then I have to have everything retailored and all that bit.” She blinks, blushing at the rant she accidentally just went on, “Do you -like- pink very much, girls?” She asks, looking between the two that have hold of her robes.

“And the ice mice, right?” Eva confirms as she walks out around Morgawse and the children to gather the things that Sibyl has requested, a rather big bag in her hands. She plops a healthy handful of Licorice Wands and sherbet balls into it, including some ice mice in the bunch then returning to her counter. “You can have the whole box of truffles; I’m certain we wouldn’t actually sell any of them.” Eva chuckles and looks over to her toddlers. “No, no, girls, let go of her sleeve. Be good girls now. Do good girls do things like that?” Essie shakes her head slowly at Eva, not withdrawing her hands, though Josie does as she’s told. Eva turns and states the price to Basil, though the price is not quite so much as it ought to be, they are family after all.

“Yes, well, I can’t imagine that anyone else would want them, either!” Sibyl rolls her eyes with a rueful laugh, shaking her head at her own eccentric tastes. “But you understand how it is.” As stealthily as a child sneaking a taste of sweets before dinner, Sibyl lifts the lid of the truffle box with a single finger, slipping her hand inside to pull out one of the candies and pop it into her mouth. “Mmmm…” she murmurs. “Just the thing, Eva. Thank you!”

Morgawse Coupe-Fourre pouts as their mother tells them to let go, and she certainly isn’t going to contradict the woman. “Here..” She smiles, glancing down to look through one of the folds of her robes, “I seem to have a few swatches left! How convenient!” She holds out three large squares of pink and red cloth, “I’ll give them to you as long as you promise to be good girls and share. And as long as your mother says it’s alright. You could perhaps make a little head-covering for your doll or something?” She smiles, her blue eyes flicking over to Eva to see her reaction.

“It’s no problem,” Eva tells Sibyl, patting her hand. Thankfully, Eva‘s illness and her cravings have been delightfully absent this time around, and she’s got no need for anything special. Just her normal barrage of sweets. “I think if they’re very good, something like that could be arranged,” Eva tells Morgawse, smiling at her and then at her children, all of whom seems to be giggling rather overly much. One can be relatively sure that they didn’t take much of the discussion in, but they are at the very least quite excited to have such a treasure. Charlotte runs quickly over to her dolls and starts trying to wrap the little dolly in the fabric every which way. Josie and Essie seem more content for the time being to simply admire and feel the fabric. “Is there anything I can get you?” This is directed towards Morgawse as Basil has commanded Sibyl’s attention now.

“You’re still feeling alright, aren’t you, Sibyl?” Basil asks quietly, looking to his wife as he takes the correct amount of money from his pockets and plunks it on the counter for Eva. “And are you sure you can’t stay home for now?” He pauses, running his hand over the top of her hair. “I do miss having you at home.” The man turns his head to the side as he looks down at her and sighs a bit, still obviously very in love with his wife still, even after all the years they’ve been married.

Morgawse grins, moving to finally stand back up. She smoothes her palms around her waist where her corset is, gulping a little but still smiling, “Ooooh… I think I’d like a few licorice wands, if you have any more… all that talk of them gave me be a hankering for some.” She pats down her hair idly, “I love your girls. I’m jealous.” She adds, not sure if she said that already.

“I’m sure you’ll have some when the time is right,” Eva offers gently, smiling down at her girls who have now wandered back to their dolls and are covering them with the swatches, almost as if they were blankets. Yes, anything is a toy to a three-year-old. “At any rate, we’ve plenty of licorice wands. I can get you a mess of them; anything else you’d like?” Eva smiles generously at the woman and steps around the counter with a bag to gather the requested sweets, staying out there, just in case Morgawse has more requests.

Morgawse purses her lips, “I’m thinking perhaps some chocolate for later as well…?” She glances around, “Gosh, it feels like I haven’t bought sweets in so long… I’m overwhelmed.” In reality of course, her dear sister bought sweets regularly… just not here. She’d probably watch more what Eva was doing if money was more of an issue for her, but as it stands, Telyn Novak is in no way financially bound.

“We’ve just reintroduced the Chocobats, if you’d like. You’ve got to be careful with them, though; if they sit for too long, they’re liable to fly away. Though that does take at least a month to happen.” Eva chuckles walking towards the cooler bit of the shop where their chocolates are kept. “We’ve also got peppermint toads, or chocolate frogs, chocoballs…” Eva keeps prattling on her list of chocolate flavored items rather quickly and deftly. It’s obvious the woman has a very good mental inventory of sweets. “If you came tomorrow, we’d have various flavored truffles available as well. Some of them are still aging, so we can’t put them out just yet.” She smiles at Morgawse, waiting for her order, and glancing occasionally at her girls and sleeping infant. Eva is more protective than she seems, apparently.

Morgawse hrms, “I think I’d like to at least try a chocobat.. and a few peppermint toads.” She nods, turning down to get out her money pouch. Of course, it matches today’s outfit, being produced to the world in the shape of a large plush-like heart. “I think that’ll be it though for today. And I’ll have to check in about the truffles. That is… unless I come to my senses between now and then.” She giggles.

“Oh, dearest,” Sibyl Wexler sighs, fond and regretful, pulling closer to her husband even as she shakes her head in response to his words. “No, I can’t leave. They need me at the school, love, you know that. And I’m feeling fine. Better than I have been in weeks, in fact.” Sibyl leans in towards Basil’s affectionate touch, gentle yet firm as she says, “I miss you too, but they need me.”

“Alrighty,” Eva responds as she gets together the things that Morgawse as requested and heads back behind the counter, tallying up the total in her head, which she then states to Morgawse, smiling happily as her girls giggle and play behind her. “And thank you for being so indulgent to my girls. They simply aren’t used to such brilliant colors.” Eva chuckles and hands the woman in front of her a neatly closed bag of sweets in exchange for payment, which she then plunks into the register. “If you’ve any special requests, I can let Maura know and she can work on those while she makes the newest batch of truffles.”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t dare.” Morgawse offers warmly as she pays the woman, shaking her head, “Having sweets specially made for me is a little out of my league.” “And it was a pleasure, ladies.” She smiles over to the girls, giving a mock curtsey, “‘ta!” With that, the eccentric Miss Novak pulls up her hood and turns to exit, smiling over to the couple who entered Cordial Confections not long before her.

“I know,” Basil admits, sighing again despite himself. He can’t help but want Sibyl home with him, though he knows she would rather be doing what she loved: taking care of people. Oughtn’t she be taking care of him? He doesn’t voice this thought, however, knowing full well that he is capable of taking good care of himself, though he would much rather have his Sibyl there helping with it. “Shall we get you back to the school then?” he suggests, picking up the three bags of sweets and putting his free arm around Sibyl’s not-yet-large waist.

“Well, they don’t need me right now…” Sibyl moderates her earlier statement with a grin, and a gleam of mischief in her bluish-green eyes. “We could do a bit more shopping, and then pick up the younger ones. I’ve got to see them before I go back.” She twines her hand through the crook of Basil’s arm, fishing into the bag for another one of the truffles. “Oh – goodbye,” Sibyl adds, giving an easy, friendly smile in return to the woman in pink before she turns back to her husband. “We’ve got plenty of time before I need to be back at Hogwarts.”

Basil, having given little reaction to Morgawse, does little now to bid her farewell, though he does give a polite nod. “How about a trip to the Quidditch shop? Or maybe the menagerie? Has Briony got enough Owl treats still?” Basil suggests, beginning to walk towards the door of the shop slowly with his wife. “Alice and Alden are always glad to see you. I do think they miss not having you around all the time. Though, that will be solved a bit when Alden goes to school next year.” He sighs very silently as they near the door.

“And I miss them, too,” Sibyl replies, her smile dimming wistfully. “And you. But that’s what my days off are for, isn’t it?” Sibyl‘s good cheer is only a little forced, and only for the briefest of moments. And then she moves closer to her husband, curling her arm more tightly through his to give comfort to him and herself in the same gesture. “Let’s go to the Quidditch shop,” she suggests. “Briony’s so proud of having made the team – we should get her a little something.” Sibyl‘s hand reaches down again, poking into the bag for another truffle, which she pops into her mouth with a surreptitious grin of satisfaction.

“That sounds like a good idea,” the man agrees and escorts his wife out of the candy shop without so much as a glance back at his sister. Eva has busied herself with her children again anyway, now with an empty shop once again. He opens up the bag that Eva has put together for Sibyl and holds it so that she might more easily get into it as they walk away from the usually bustling candy shop. He is very quiet as they make their way through the alley, which is certainly not lacking for business, despite that it it is nowhere near the Holidays. These moments with Sibyl are his favorite, when he has her all to himself. Yes, Basil might miss her, but he certainly appreciates the moments that they manage to be together.

The school year has just started, and the Hogwarts infirmary is still almost empty. The usual fall colds and sniffles haven’t set in yet; and the first Quidditch practices, with their attendant bruises and broken bones, are still several weeks away. In fact, the only indication that the Hospital Wing is not entirely deserted is the faint sound of whistling, floating down the hallway from Sibyl Wexler‘s office. The nurse’s usually cheerful tune is a little weaker than usual, though, and broken up by the clink of potion bottles – and at one point, it stops entirely. Then it resumes again, stronger than before, growing and diminishing as Sibyl moves about her office. From time to time, she pokes her head out of the door, peering anxiously into the hallway, and then disappearing back inside.

Looking quite perplexed, Basil strides down the hall ways, peering into doors and trying to remember where exactly the nurse’s office was. The whole castle seemed topsy turvy from where it had been the previous year. Finally managing to find his destination. “What the hell happened to Hogwarts, Sibyl? It took me nigh on half an hour to find the office!” Basil is looking perplexed at this, and this is compounded by the urgency which he felt from her letters. “Now what is it? What’s wrong? Did Briony get hurt? Are you sick? Is she sick?” Basil‘s eyes are nearly wild with concern.

“Basil, love, it’s all right!” Sibyl rushes out into the hallway, meeting her husband before he can reach the end of her corridor. “It’s all right – I’m sorry, I should have given you directions to my new office.” Her arms reach up to circle him, holding back his frantically waving arms in a tight, comforting embrace, and she rises up on tiptoes to give him a light kiss on the cheek. Sibyl‘s usually ruddy complexion is a little paler than usual, and there is an unhealthy greenish tinge to it – but she still sounds completely sincere when she says, “I’m not sick, love, and Briony is fine, too. I said that in my first owl.” She tightens her arms around her husband, repeating, “It’s all right. I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong. I just needed to talk to you in person. It’s happy news, dearest.”

“Well, if it’s happy news, why do you look ill, Sibyl? Will you tell me what’s going on before I fall apart?” Basil‘s eyes are fixed on Sibyl, as he glances around at the Hospital wing behind him. What /has/ gone on with the school? Everything appears to be the same as it was, except that it has all moved around. Even as a Wizard, this perplexes Basil. He turns his attention back to Sibyl, looking down at her again, unable to wipe the concern from his face. “What’s this news? Why do you look as if you’re ill?” He reiterates, unable to keep his mind on anything except what the news is.

“It’s all right,” Sibyl persists, tightening her comforting arms around her husband. He will not be appeased, though, and Sibyl knows better than to push. She stops, takes a deep breath, and lets it out again in a long sigh that relaxes her anxiously soothing embrace, and allows her expression to settle into a smile. “It’s good news.” Now the color does start to come back to her face, but it is an odd, shy blush that does not quite manage to offset the sickly pallor beneath it. Still, her smile only broadens as she says, “I think I’m going to have another baby” – and then bursts forth into a full, bright grin.

“You’re — what?” Basil does a double-take. “A baby? But how… I thought…” Nine years since they last had a baby, and Basil‘s eyes are only wide. “Well — that’s — well — fantastic –” he fumbles for the right words. “A baby, wow,” he quickly shakes his head as if trying to dislodge the other thoughts distracting his mind. “A baby.” He glances around at the room and breathes in deeply. “I think I need to sit down.” He is looking down at Sibyl, obviously shocked at the news. “What are we going to do, with you here?” He certainly knows he can’t care for a baby on his own. What would he do without Sibyl?

“Yes, love, sit down,” Sibyl agrees, and begins to steer her husband backwards towards a chair. “Shall I make some tea?” Her smile widens even more, and breaks into a bright laugh. “Oh, dearest, I know it’s a surprise – it’s a surprise to me, too!” Now that the secret is out, Sibyl can let her joy emerge in all its exuberance, and for the moment, at least, that joy overrides any misgivings that she or Basil might have. “We’ll figure it all out, love, I know we will. We’ve got time – the baby won’t be here till the end of May at the earliest, if I’m counting right. And I’ll be able to keep working for most of it – I did with Briony, remember?”

“That’s true, but home is so much farther away from here than it was when Briony was a baby.” Basil pauses, looking at his wife and drawing her closer to him. “A baby. Hoo.” He looks up at his wife, a smile finally spreading onto his face. “If you say we’ll figure it out, then we will.” The man takes his wife’s hand in his own and sighs a bit. “Does Briony know?”

“We will, Basil dearest,” Sibyl replies, bending down to brush her husband’s lips gently with her own smiling ones. “We always do.” Slowly, reluctantly, she withdraws her arms from the embrace, and turns away towards her desk, where she busies herself for a moment with the teapot and teacups. “No – I haven’t told Briony or the other children yet,” she continues, glancing over her shoulder with another smile. “I wanted to tell you first.” The smile fades for a moment, as she adds, “And I need to tell Professor Prichard, too. She deserves to know that her nurse is going to be. . . in a bit of an unusual position, this year.”

“Oh, right. You’ll take next year off, of course. I’m sure she’ll need to know that, too.” Basil nods affirmative, feeling quite certain that this is the decision that will be made. “How can we celebrate Sibyl.” A pause. “Though the trip may have been celebratory enough…” He laughs a bit and puts his hand on Sibyl’s stomach. As if he could feel anything there yet. “I want to take you home right now,” he adds quietly, obviously still not accustomed to having his wife be away from him so often.

“We’ll see,” Sibyl replies, giving the suggestion a quick, pursed-lipped frown. “We’ve got quite a while to think about that, too.” But the smile returns as she feels her husband’s touch, and she lifts her own hand to cover his, twining her fingers through his, and slipping through to brush across her still-flat stomach. “We’ll find some way to celebrate, love,” Sibyl says, her voice softening affectionately. “As long as it doesn’t involve eating too much,” she adds, with a rueful twist of her mouth, “we’ll be fine.” She turns to face Basil again, and gives him another light kiss. “I can get away for a little while this afternoon, I think. And I’ll be home for a bit this evening, so that I can tell Alden and Alice…”

“Wonderful!” This idea excites Basil, as he loves having his wife at home. “I’m sure Briony wil be thrilled to get another sibling.” Of course, he isn’t sure, and has no idea how his daughter will react, but this doesn’t cross his mind at this time. “When will you get there?” he asks, his mind calculating quickly how much time he’ll have to put in at work before he’d get to see his wife again.

“Oh, let me see. .. ” Sibyl turns back to the teapot, pouring two cups while she considers. One of the cups she hands to her husband; the other, she spikes with a few drops of a sparkling blue potion and holds in her hands, breathing in the fragrant steam for a few moments. “I’ll need to wait until Briony gets out of class – she’d never stand for it if the younger ones found out before she did. And I’ll need to set up a meeting with the Headmistress, and I doubt she’ll be free before the end of classes either. So. . . perhaps around dinnertime?”

“Dinnertime…” Basil pauses in thought and quickly takes a sip of the tea. “Alright, alright, dinnertime.” The man is almost as distracted now as when he entered. He sets the teacup and saucer down on the dress and leans up to kiss his wife. “I’ve got to take care of some things, but I’m counting the minutes until tonight.” He smiles rapturously at his wife and gives her a squeeze. “Tonight. Just come straight to the house. We’ll have a good night at home.” He smiles down at her and kisses her cheek. “I’ll see you tonight, darling.” With that he exits her office and his shoes clunk, clunk, clunk their way out of the hospital wing. The last that is heard of him while he tries to find his way out of the school is, “That is, if I can figure out how to get out of here…”

Eva Fallon seems run off her feet already. It’s the morning before the sorting, the shop, though now pristine, has been a riot. Her children are now downstairs with her, and other people’s children are still trickling in and out of the shop, purchasing some last-minute sweets. The shop does seem eerily neat for a day like today, though Eva‘s cousin may have had some help at keeping it so. “I’m glad sorting at Hogwarts is only once a year, Maura,” Eva emits with a sigh and plops onto a stool behind the counter, rocking Arnold’s cribby with her foot.

Outside, Diagon Alley is abuzz with shoppers making last-minute purchases – and Sibyl Wexler seems to have enough energy to match them all put together. With one hand firmly wrapped around her husband’s arm and the other clutching her daughter, the Hogwarts nurse bustles through the door of the candy shop at top speed. “Just a few, Briony,” she admonishes. “Enough for the train ride, and no more – you don’t want to spoil your appetite for the feast!” Sibyl‘s face, already naturally ruddy, is even redder than usual with the remnants of a sunburn – the last souvenir of a late-summer holiday. That, and the conspiratorial smile that she shoots at her husband, and the way she keeps affectionately close to his side, even amid the chaos of back-to-school shopping.

“Maybe not even quite that much, Briony. Don’t make your brother and sister jealous.” Basil pauses a moment in thought. “Actually, it’s your job to get some for both of them now.” He smiles down affectionately at Sibyl, a touch of sadness in his eyes. He realized over the summer just how much he had missed his wife, and now she was headed back to Hogwarts for another year. “Can’t we just forget when the train leaves, Sibyl?” he asks slyly, a smile just barely touching his lips.

Andy Carver shuffles into Cordial Confections through the crowd, leaving his parents outside, to get his required stock of sweets for the travel and his first days in Hogwarts. He tries to fight his way to the showcase to ponder what sweets to purchase. As he does not get a glimpse on one single piece of candy he tries to slip between to adults which obviously seem to be Briony’s parents.

A small whirlwind dressed in an emerald robe breezes into the candy store. Kara finally slows some when she realizes just how crowded it was inside. Purse in one hand, purring silver kitten in the other, the new Hogwarts student heads straight for the chocolate frog display. Those collected she meanders around the store, adding iced mice and acid pops to her growing collection.

“Alright, mum,” Briony responds to her mother, hardly hearing her father’s addition. Something about her siblings. Briony‘s off waving frantically at her aunt. “Auntie Eva! I’m a second year now! I’m going to try out for Quidditch, too. Mum and Dad let me get a broom! Isn’t it exciting!” With that, Briony snatches a bag off of the counter where Eva keeps them, and starts gathering the sweets that she wants for the trip.

Feeling like he’ll never be free of his chattering sisters from now on, Gabriel walks, both hands on his head, clasping chunks of hair as the twins trail him. What if they were sorted into his house? He’d have to listen to this for his remaining years at Hogwarts! Although… it would be good to have some family nearby, after what news their mother has recently told him. Gabe’s not been out much since that awful day. “Alright, we’re here. We don’t have a lot of time so try to be quick about it.” Opening the door with a sigh, Gabriel puts on a brave face in case Briony is inside.

It’s been a long final day before Hogwarts for the young Saphia Bona. Yes, her mother had finally given her blessing to Saphia‘s magical education, but had, in response, demanded an ever greater amount of her free time to be spent with family and what she dubbed the ‘real world’. As such, much of the shopping that had been spread out over weeks for her first year had been spent in a day this time — AND she no longer got preferential treatment at Flourish and Blotts anymore now that Ms. Rosemont had quit. While Ms. Rosemont had assured Saphia this was all for the best, and she was happier quitting, Saphia knew in her heart it wasn’t true. How could Ms. Rosemont ever be happier away from books? And so, loaded with new equipment and books (twenty-three new books, to be precise) Saphia had broken away from her father for a final diversion in pursuit of treats for the train, a relaxing pause, and that elusive Roderick Plumpton card!

Yawning and rubbing his eyes Chris walks into the store, the usual site of his small black kitten following closely behind him, looking tired as well. He smiles as the scent of the candy reaches his nose, he looks down at his kitten, “Maybe some sugar will wake us up, Magik.” The kitten gives a small happy mew in response.

Olivia Baxtor strolls in, looking around the busy shop, her face looking rather pensive. “Come now, Olivia, go in,” her mother beckons, and Olivia has little other choice than to make her way all the way into the busy shop. Her brother Christian, a sixth year, follows her, pushing past to get to the sweets, and her sisters Gertrude and Helen, both third years, come after him, sneaking past Olivia to get some sweets for themselves. “Get some things, but quickly, children, we’ve got to go to the train soon!” Olivia starts into the shop and glances at all of the candies, picking a piece here and there. To tell the truth, the girl is not all that fond of sweets.

Kassandra never really was addicted to sweets, but as she did not trust the Hogwarts Express food cart, she decided to get a small amount of energy supply at the sweets shop. Losing her gracious posture for a moment at the sight of another crowded place she crosses the room towards the counter, where the denseness is at its maximum and pushes a small piece of parchment out of her right robe pocket, not to forget a single piece of her shopping’s previously selected composition.

“We most certainly can not just forget what time the train leaves!” Sibyl Wexler retorts to her husband, giving him a reproachful nudge in the side with her elbow. But her tone is softened by a grin, and a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Only one bag, Briony-love!” Sibyl calls after her eldest daughter, as Briony skips off to the other side of the shop. “Eva! Good to see you! How are you feeling, dear?” There are too many people between Sibyl and the shopkeeper for her to do much more than wave – and give her husband another nudge, prompting him to do the same. The door jingles open again behind her – spotting Gabriel among the cluster of children entering, Sibyl turns to look over her shoulder, stretching her hand out towards her daughter’s friend. “Gabriel dear, over here!” She switches effortlessly back and forth between each of the people she is addressing, giving each an equal share of her warm, comfortable smile.

“Don’t take too long kids, the train leaves in a while! You don’t want to miss it!” Eva smiles all around as the children all seem to understand this as they rush around gathering sweets. Eva prepares herself for a rush. “Hello, Basil, Sibyl,” Eva calls to her relations, nodding as Briony chatters at her then quickly runs off. “Avery, hello! Hi, Gabriel, girls.” So many people to say hello to! “I’m feeling wonderful, Sibyl, thanks for asking! It seems to me you must be feeling fine. Look at that suntan!” Eva giggles a bit and leans against the counter, surveying the commotion in her shop.

Hearing her friend’s name, Briony‘s head pops up out of the crowd, so to speak, as she tries to find the boy. “Gabriel, where are you? Isn’t it exciting! We’re going back to school! Mum and dad bought me a broom!” Briony giggles gleefully as she pushes her way through the hoardes of children trying to find the one she know. “Hi, Gabriel. Ready for school this year? You get to play Quidditch, right?” Briony smiles widely at him.

Finally Andy reaches the immense sweets counter and sees Briony doing the same. “Hello Briony, did you have nice holidays?” he nearly has to shout because of the distance between them, while he is selecting his sweets and putting them into his already well-filled paperbag, looking to her from time to time.

Saphia Bona smiles as her tiny scops owl, Mina, flutters to her shoulder and nuzzles against Saphia‘s face happily as she wanders the store, picking up a packet of sugar quills, a packet of fizzing whizzbees, five ice mice, and, of course, an entire box of chocolate frogs. Sidling up to the counter, Saphia offers her best smile for Eva and whispers, “Good morning, Ms. Fallon!”

Kara Raine continues wandering around the shop, the ever growning pile of sweets becoming more difficult to manage. A few of the other new students are recognized from the other day, and Kara heads toward Chris with a grin. “Chris! Hi, I met you the other day in here, Kara remember? How are you and Magik? I did end up getting a kitten after all, this here is Silver.” The gray ball of fur opens her eyes at the name and meows happily. “Anyway, just wanted to say hi, grabbing some last minute things for the train you know. Hopefully I’ll see you there?”

The shop is so loud that Olivia almost can’t handle the commotion. She takes a few select types of candy and joins her family at the counter. “This is all I’m having, thank you,” the girl states politely, placing her selections up onto the counter to be bagged. As soon as the sweets are paid for, Olivia‘s mother is hustling the four Baxtor children out the door to get to the train in enough time. It seems as soon as she’s entered the shop, Olivia is pushed back out of it, protesting rather loudly that they’ll wrinkle her new skirt, but the family’s voices fade as they head towards the train station.

Glancing up from her gaze out the window, Olivia offers a half-smile. “Hello.” She pauses a moment, unsure of how to respond. “I’m a fourth year this year,” she finally adds, not thinking to add her name. The girl tucks her ankles underneath her gently, leaning on an armrest in a rather lady-like fashion. Her demeanor is not one of coldness, but more of reserve, as if she isn’t sure just how to behave.

Carrying her things with her Rawnie peeks in to the very last compartment and smiles. “Hello…. this place taken?” She walks in setting her things down before waiting for an answer. “My name is Rawnie. This is my first year and everythin….”

Kassandra swiftly gets inbetween the crowd, which is besieging the sweets counter. She shovels a few Liquorice Wands and Chocoballs into her bag, heads for the cash, pays and leaves the store.

Aisling O‘Cormac stumbles clumsily through the door of the compartment, blushing at the older girl’s demurity. “Um, hello.” She offers back. “My name is Aisling O‘Cormac… This will be my first year at Hogwarts, though my brothers have told me wonderful things about it.” Having, she feels, pretty much made a fool of herself, Aisling tugs on one of her two plaits nervously. “I don’t suppose you’d mind me sharing this compartment with you?”

Rawnie Weller takes a seat near the windo looking out at the spot where her mother had stood. It had been the longest time Rawnie has spent with her mother since she was born. Looking over at the new arival Rawnie waves quietly letting the older girl answer.

Albert Bryce pokes his head in from the corridor. “Room for another?” he asks, smiling broadly, his voice brisk, heavy with the London accent. He’s dragging an animal carrier, a broom and a knapsack, blocking the corridor for a couple older students wishing to go by. “Just a minute,” he says to them, unperturbed.

Kassandra Verkooyen swiftly opens the compartment’s dook and heaves her suitcase into the baggage net above the seats. “Kassandra Verkooyen.” she announces, addressing everyone in the compartment. “Likewise, is going to be my first year in Hogwarts. I’m so excited about it. What about you? I cannot wait until the first lesson begins.” She looks around to estimate the others in the compartment.

“Yeah Im excited…. I can’t wait to cut up some frogs!” Rawnie smiles and takes out her potions book opening it to the infamous frog guts page which has a moving illustration on the proper way to gut a frog. “Innit that disgustin?”

As the compartment fills, Olivia readjusts how she is seated to fit many people. Part of her is slightly disappointed that she is surrounded by first years, but as Albert pokes his head in, she is slightly relieved. Someone she knows, “Hello, Albert,” she says calmly. “Good summer?” The girl’s demeanor seems unchanging, though uncertain, and she doesn’t move from her spot save to keep her feet on the floor.

Angelo Grey takes a peek inside to see who’s in the compartment, but seeing it’s already full of people, he decides to leave. No need to pack everyone, there’s plenty of room in other compartments. “Excuse me.”

Aisling O‘Cormac places her luggage in the convenient overhead racks as she begins to survey her new domain. Though the compartment had few people when she entered, it appears to have quickly filled up. “Am I wrong,” she asks, “or are most of us first years?”

Albert Bryce moves in, to the relief of the upper years, and flashes Olivia another smile, a little crooked this time. “Wicked good. Yours?” he asks, reaching up place everything but the animal carrier in the space above. And for a change this year, he doesn’t have to struggle much to reach it. No standing on the seats. The growth spurt finds its purpose! “Hello, all,” he adds to the others as he falls into seat. “First years?” he adds, glancing at his House mate, though the kids seem to be answering that for themselves. “They might not use frogs this year,” he replies to Rawnie. “You never know.”

Rawnie Weller frowns at the prospect of not getting to cut up a dead frog. “Oh but thats false advertisement! This book implys that were going to use frog guts in potions!” Says the dissapointed redhead. Rawnie stares at the picture a bit longer with a smile.

Kassandra Verkooyen wrinkles her nose at the sight of the opened frog. “Ugh, put that away, I don’t want to become sick before we left even left the train station. But, yes, as I have stated before, I am a first year.” replying to Aisling. “What house do you two belong to, if I may ask?” Kassandra questions the fourth years.

Aisling O‘Cormac shakes her head. “I don’t see,” she says to Rawnie, “why you think cutting up a dead frog would be so exciting. They’re somewhat boring, really, just guts and muck. By the way, what was your name again? I don’t think I got it.” The talkative first year stops briefly for breath, then looks towards the older students. “Are you two in the same house? Or even year?”

How should Olivia answer? Tolerable? Rather irritating? Miserable? Perhaps those are exaggerations. “Good,” she answers simply and gives Albert a half smile. “I’m looking forward to this term.” She thinks she is. “Hopefully I’ll be able to get good marks this year.” This is the extent of Olivia‘s forwardness and she mostly sits back and watches the younger students in the cabin enthuse about what the year will be like. The girl remembers her first year, but not the excitement that came with it.

Rawnie Weller grins watching Kass’s face wrinkle up. “Oie whats wrong? Its just frog guts…” The girl brings the book a bit closer to Kass grinning sadeisticly. “I bet you just can’t wait ter touch some huh? They look a bit like green scrambled eggs don’t they?” One might get the feeling that Rawnie does this sort of thing all the time.

Albert Bryce chuckles softly at Weller’s disappointment, but he just shakes his head slightly and leans back, arms crossing over the top of the carrier, from which a disgruntled ‘mew’ can be heard. “Fourth years, Hufflepuff,” he answers Kassandra and Aisling cheerfully. “Best House in the castle.” Olivia gets a quick glance. “Good is… good.” Uh huh. “And at least we don’t have O.W.L.s to worry about yet.”

Dolly Faeden wiggles her way into the compartment and finds a place to hoist her overlarge trunk. The girl is devoid of any kind of pet, but doesn’t seem to notice. Her wand pokes up from the pocket of the trousers she’s got on under a somewhat more feminine, but decidedly overlarge blouse, and finally looks around for a chair.

“You’re right about OWLs. I hear they’re dreadfully hard.” The girl bites her lip anxiously in remembrance of the future ominous tests. “Have you heard how they are? My brother took them last year, but he always exaggerates things. He tried to say he nearly died.” Olivia sighs a bit and hugs her waist, leaning a bit farther back in her seat. “Do you know how they are?”

Aisling O‘Cormac looks out the window and sighs. “The countryside looks much as it does back home, clean and bright… I don’t know how people can even stand to live in a city like London, so big and grimy..” Turning to the older students, she continues, “Hogwarts isn’t anything like that, is it? I don’t think I could stand it if it was.”

Lyre King finally finds a place to settle. Without his mother roughly shoving him around, and telling him where to sit and who to talk to, he had stood in the corridor until the train left. He pokes his head into the compartment for a moment and blurts out “Can I sit in here? The only other compartment with unsorted students has an Ogre in it.”

“Was he clumsy?” Albert asks Olivia, his hazel eyes glittering as he grins. “I don’t know. Seren came away with nine when she took them, and it’s not like she’s a brilliant Ravenclaw or something. Though… she studies a lot.” Here, Al nearly looks glum. Almost. “Passed her N.E.W.T.s, too. But… I guess if you pay attention and… you know. Read a lot.” He just might turn green soon. Oh, a distraction. “Only parts of Lond… well. Much of it might be grimy,” he says to Aisling, “but it has its charms. Mostly by magic, but the royal family doesn’t need to know that, do they?” He then blinks at Lyre, once, stares, then states, “No ogres in here.”

Dolly Faeden looks up at the sound of Lyre’s voice and her eyebrows raise fairly far. “Oh! Yer’e the boy with the short wand!” She pulls hers out and brandishes it, a long, whippy thing made of holly, smiling in a friendly manner. “See? It’s longer.” There’s a waving of it and an incidental shooting of sparks, which harmlessly dissolve against the cieling. “Works well, too.” A look around and she asks in a general way, “What about everyone else’s? I’m trying to figure out how the length of a wand corrolates-” she pronounces this word slowly and importantly, as if it is new to her,”to the owner. I’m tallish, you see, and he’s kind of short, so…”

Kassandra chuckles. “An Ogre? What has he done to you?” and to Dolly “Well, I do not think that the length of a wizard or witch is actually related to his or her wand length.” Kassandra sits back, reveales a paper bag which contains two kinds of sweets and starts munching on a Licorice wand. “Help yourself, I’m getting quite annoyed of those sweets.” she announces.

Aisling O‘Cormac turns to face Lyre and blinks. “An ogre? What? How? That’s somewhat… not comforting… By the by, my name is Aisling. Aisling O‘Cormac. Yours?” Having, in short order, attacked the points that most interested her, Aisling sets down to twirling one of her plaits with her index finger, mulling things over and observing her companions. Looking at a wall, she comments, “I don’t think that height has anything to do with wand length…”

“An Ogre? You mean a real one? On the train?” Rawnie seems more than a tad skepticle and closes her potions book. “That’d be pretty neat though…. I should like to see one once.”

“I don’t know. He told me that the sorting hat would try to eat my head if I wasn’t careful.” The girl sighs and shrugs. “Obviously I realized that wasn’t the case, but it was rather frightening beforehand. He never tells me how things are for real. He’s so mean.” Olivia looks rather cross at this, raising her eyebrows at the discussion of Ogres. “What a frightening idea,” the Hufflepuff expresses, seeming to think it a generally horrific idea.

Lyre fumes for a bit. “I am not short! I’m taller than all the boys my age in my grandfathers estate in india. And I swear, there is a towering beast in compartment four! It has a crooked nose, and cuts and bruises all over his face, and it’s ears are thick, and it’s dressed all in black!”

Kassandra says, “Oh yes, an get your head split, I suppose.” %n tells Rawnie and then asks the older students. “What will the Sorting be like? I only heard about a Talking hat and vague stories. Can you tell me?”"

“Probably just an old Slytherin,” Albert offers, grinning at Lyre. The rest, he lets fly over his head like so much conversation until he blinks at Kassandra. “Well, the hat doesn’t eat your head, obviously. It just… picks your brain.” Ah heh. “Painless, but sometimes embarrassing.

“I wouldn’t get my head split….. Id use you like a sheild you ninny.” Rawnie spits at Kassandra. Honestly who did she think she was stateing her honest opnion like that. “Anyway Im sure I could hide from an Ogre.”

Aisling O‘Cormac, being a first year, is, of course, also interested in the phenomenon of the sorting ceremony. Turning towards the older students, she asks, “Has anyone ever been, I don’t know, turned away? That is, not sorted?”

Dolly Faeden frowns a little bit, “Well, tha’s all well an’ good except you haven’t shown me yeir wands so how canni tell for sure?” She crosses her arms, somewhat upset that her research oppurtunity is going by the wayside in favor of Ogre stories. A moment later, however, she’s turned to face the others better. “A hat? M’da tol’ me it was a dragon.” She looks rather let down. “How’s a hat s’posed to tell us anything?”

Riley Markham hardly glances at the card before moving to hand it back to Kitty, giving a great, heaving sigh of mixxed worry and disgust. “Aye, fine. S’my Gran. She an’ I.. well,” he sighs, all that worry and fear he’d been holding up raging back to the surface. “She worried me, today.. something she said. Can’t figure it out.. Eh,” Riley looks up, as the train stops.. “We’re ‘ere, eh.” And he rises, non-challantly, to pull down and carry he and Saphia’s things off the train.

“Your gran is on a Wizard Card?” Katherine stares at Riley in a mixture of sympathy and awe

Keelan Walsh is standing on the platform looking, as she is, quite tall and a bit odd, given the shadows cast upon her from the lamp she’s carrying. “First years!” calls the Herbology professor, “If all first years could please come over here, I’ll be taking you to the Castle.” The woman smirks a little, but is really quite busy calling for the students. “First years!!”

Lyre King cowers next to his bags. “There, there he is! The ogre!” He points over at a large boy carrying a rucksack, who is boarding a carriage.

“Wow, Riley, your grandma’s on a card?” David is amazed at the news, too.

Marie-Anna Greyton watches as all the first years move to follow Keelan, meanwhile she moves towards the carriages. The sixth year quietly awaits for the younger students to board the carriages before she too boards one.

(Hufflepuff) Albert Bryce settles in next to Olivia and grins. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asks in his overly cheerful sort of way.

“Yeah,” Riley mutters, not bothering to ask if Saphia would like him to carry her luggage, stepping behind her and picking up for her after she’s dragged it a way. Hauling heavy things was something he was actually fairly good at. He seems more than slightly annoyed, though more at his own reaction than the question.. “Yeah, she was a famous curse-breaker, did some ivestment things for Gringotts, helped a lot of rich people get richer. But she said somethin to me today..” He drops the luggage off in the entry wing, following the rest in to the great hall.. “Something odd.. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but it worries the stuffing outta me..” And then, as he steps in to the great hall.. he looks up, across the room to the faculty table. “Oh, sweet Jesus.. I’m in hell..”

(Hufflepuff) Eliza Marlowe folds her lanky frame into a spot at the Hufflepuff table, sitting sideways on the bench to let her long legs stretch out into the aisle. She raises a hand to give a cheerful, easy wave to the few housemates she has missed on the train. “Hey, Linwood!” she calls to one of her teammates. “Get in any good practice this summer?”

(Hufflepuff) “Oh, Quidditch…” Olivia laments softly as she thinks of her horrible experiences with everything relating to the sport. Olivia doesn’t like to get messy, anyway. The quiet girl glances around the table as her housemates all gather. Every year it always seemed so different to sit at it, especially with the new point of view of being a year older. She tries to smile in a friendly way at those around her, but finds it difficult, as she barely knows them, even though she’s been at school with many of them for three years already.

(Hufflepuff) Katherine Nichols plunks down at the end of the table, near Alexandra and a few other third-years. As she turns to survey the room, something catches her eye at the head table, and Katherine‘s round, cheerful face suddenly drops into an astonished gasp. She rummages through the pockets of her robe, scattering a few quills – real and sugar – and some foil Chocolate Frog wrappers before she comes up with what she was seeking: a Wizard Card. She stares at it, then at the head table, then back. “Oh my goodness,” she gasps. “The new Headmistress. It’s Riley’s gran!”

(Hufflepuff) Albert Bryce leans against the table and peers at Katherine. “Who is?” he asks, as he hasn’t bothered to even glance at the head table just yet.

(Hufflepuff) “Her!” Katherine nods urgently at Melvina Prichard, her voice hushed to a whisper, as if the new Headmistress could hear her all the way across the room. “That one! Look” She leans over, passing the card across to Albert. “It’s her!”

(Hufflepuff) Alexandra Leong gasps “Really?” she exclaims, twisting herself around to get a better look, as she was listening with dismay to her Quidditch captain. “Wow… that’s. Different. Well, Professors Sedgewick is still here… AND Professor Isolde?”

(Hufflepuff) Albert Bryce rudely reaches across the student between Katherine and him and peers at the card, blinks slowly, then frowns at Melvina. “What on earth is she doing in that chair?” he asks stupidly, as if it hadn’t been announced that the previous Headmistress was stepping down.

(Hufflepuff) “I don’t think she looks quite so nice as the last headmistress we had,” Olivia states quietly, glancing at the woman, almost fearfully. “What’s she like, do you know?” Her gaze scans the table, as she sees all the new appointments, wondering just how different her classes will end up being.

(Hufflepuff) “She’s the new Headmistress!” Katherine whispers urgently. She follows the others’ gaze back up to the faculty table, and now that the first shock of recognition is passing, Katherine regards the new Headmistress with rising apprehension. “No, she doesn’t look very nice at all,” she agrees uneasily. “And from what Riley’s said, I think she’s fairly strict. But…you never know. She might turn out all right.” Hope springs eternal, for Katherine.

(Hufflepuff) “Yeah, Professor Morgan’s parents finally died off while she was gone,” Albert supplies as he sits back once more. “But… well. D’you think the new headmistress will make us take those idiotic seminars on tying shoes?”

(Hufflepuff) Charlie Linwood is sitting at the table, arms up and folded behind his head, waiting rather impatiently for the first years to arrive. He’s not joining in on any conversation yet, however.

(Hufflepuff) “Albert!” Katherine frowns reproachfully at the older boy’s comments, and reaches across to snatch the card back from him. “I’m glad that Professor Morgan is back!” She drops the card on the table in front of her and reaches into her pocket, fishing out a few more Chocolate Frogs.

(Hufflepuff) Albert shrugs at Katherine and grins. “What? It’s true. And I was just wondering.” Then, feeling confident the faculty issue is taken care of for the time being, he turns toward Eliza, staring a moment too long as he screws up some idiotic burst of courage. “So, uh… Eliz, or, that is, Ms. Marlowe?” he calls over, remembering to tack on a smile. “Are you, uh… I was talking to my sister, and… will there be tryouts this year?” he asks her, sounding hopeful as the smile turns more genuine.

(Hufflepuff) Camdin Tulloche finally chimes in from the second year side of Katherine, “Don’t go so hard on Albert. Those seminars were boooring,” he says with only the best exaggeration. “Besides, you really want to take them on top of a slew of electives?”

(Hufflepuff) “No, it’s not Miss Marlowe,” Eliza calls back with a grin. “Just Eliza.” She angles herself towards Albert, leaning one elbow casually on the long table. “And yes, we’ll be having tryouts. Always room for more good players. Seren said that you’d be interested. Looking forward to seeing what you can do.”

(Hufflepuff) Albert Bryce actually blushes for a moment before he remembers to acknowledge the information with a, “Thanks, Eliza!” Whew! He sits up a little straighter and just smiles widely at those nearby, looking like a very large idiot.

(Hufflepuff) “They weren’t that bad,” Olivia contributes. “At least they were useful and informative. After all, I imagine there were less… shoe-related injuries… during the year…” Olivia‘s voice trails off as she stops her train of thought before she gets any glares from her housemates. “Anyway, I imagine this Headmistress will find some way to enrich our educations.” Olivia is spewing nonsense, and she knows it, so instead of continuing, the girl falls silent and just gazes over the tableware.

Keelan Walsh strides in, not even having shucked her cloak, and moves quickly to the faculty table. She’s still, in fact, got the lantern she was using to light the way, though that at least has been put out. Despair, oh haters of Herbology (and members of Ravenclaw), Keelan Walsh has not drowned in the lake.

(Hufflepuff) “Well, at least they didn’t make Calwern Headmistress,” Albert replies. “The board isn’t completely made up of idiots. Always encouraging, yes? Though… Rathe is still here, I see.” A glum note enters his voice, though it is quickly erased by the entrance of Professor Walsh. “Oh, thank heavens. We can eat soon.” The stomach is most important tonight.

With students settled at their respective House tables, the doors to the Great Hall let in one, final person. Head of Gryffindor and Charms Professor Erica Calwern enters the Great Hall with the Sorting Hat lightly held in her grasp. She makes her way gracefully between the tables and up to the dias which hosts the faculty tables and a lone, dark oak stool. Tattered, torn, patched, and frayed, the professor still treats the Hat with the utmost respect as she gently places it upon the stool. Turning, she bows to the table, head lowered and right hand sweeping towards the ground. Standing and directing herself to Melvina in particular, she addresses the new Headmistress, “Good evening, Professor Prichard. I believe we are ready to greet our newest residents.”

(Hufflepuff) “Albert!” The reproach is even stronger in Katherine‘s voice, and she puffs up with indignance at his criticism of Professor Calwern. She hastily falls silent, though, when the other professors enter.

Darius Dwight looks over the Ravenclaw table, noting a loud groan coming from their direction at the appearance of Professor Walsh. Many, including one boy in particular, seem utterly disconsolate.

(Hufflepuff) Alexandra Leong makes a sound surprisingly like a grunt. “I don’t know why people don’t like Professor Rathe,” she asserts. “I think she’s great. Really fair.” Alright, so the DADA Professor stood up for her, once or twice. That sort of thing sticks in a girl’s mind, doesn’t it?

(Hufflepuff) Albert, unfortunately, has very little luck with most of the professors and is therefore biased. “At least Walsh didn’t drown this year. I heard some of the Slytherins were going to try to sabotage the boats.” Total hearsay, of course.

(Hufflepuff) Casper Hadley shakes his head. “It wouldn’t be the slytherins that sabotaged her. She likes slytherins. Used to be one.”

Dolly Faeden gasps out loud at the Great Hall and actually stops in her tracks to stare at the ceiling. “I’ve got to learn tae do that!” is her decided proclaimation. She seems not to notice as she’s somewhat left behind by the group that is, of course, still moving.

Angelo Grey enters the great hall and a face of amazement comes from within. He looks up, turns around, several times, as if spinning in the same place, trying to grasp the entirety of this hall. “Wow…” he says, dreamily.

Erica Calwern awaits patiently and with a warm smile next to the Sorting Hat which both stand upon the dias at the front of the room. As many new students filter in from the waiting room, they create a single line upon the dias, forming a living barrier between the faculty and the returning students.

Rawnie Weller stares up at the magical ceiling nearly falling onto her backside made dizzy by the beauty of it. “Blimey!” Is all the little redhead can think to utter before actually taking a small spill forward due to Vertigo, poor girl.

Kara Raine follows the others into the Great Hall, eyes wide. “Oh my, oh my.” Swallowing nerviously, she moves forward falling into line, hands clenching and unclenching the sides of her robes.

Kassandra Verkooyen Kassandra Verkooyen almost floats into the Great Hall, decently looking at the enchanted ceiling, always keeping up with the group of first-years and standing still among the others.

Sara O‘Shay quirks a brow, for all that she may not like Rawnie, she doesn’t want anyone to mess up her sorting. “You alright?” she questions of Miss Weller. “I suppose it can be a little overwhelming.”

Standing on the dais, Aisling can appreciate how many people there are in the hall, and, as such, how many eyes there are upon her. Seeing Rawnie tumble down, she steps over to her and kneels next to her. “Are you alright?” she inquires, hand resting upon her plait like usual.

Chris Jitsunari joins in the awe. He looks up at the enchanted celing and then at all the returning students, not sure how to take it all in. “The books about this place don’t even come close to the actual experience.”

(Hufflepuff) Albert Bryce shrugs slightly, attention mostly on the firsties now. “S’just what I heard,” he maintains, distractedly.

Rawnie Weller stand up and brushes her robes off. A small glare is given to Sara. “Im arright….. I just got a little dizzy from lookin up too fast s’all….” She didn’t need help from a girl who called her a halfling. Whatever that is. She nods to Aisling too. “Im arright.”

Dolly Faeden scuttles up on the dias with a start, eyes still turned upward. “Aye…” is her breathless response to Chris’s comment.

Sara O‘Shay nods a little before stepping back into the queue, not that she’d stepped out any. “Good,” she states, simply.

Heat O‘Leary glances upward momentarily towards the ceiling before he lowers his gaze, a minor shiver rocking his frame. He looked towards the sorting hat and continued the hurried attempts at fixing his hair, brushing longer pieces behind his ears with his fingers.

Aisling O‘Cormac looks down the line and exclaims, looking at the hat, “Rawnie, Kass, Lyre, it’s the hat that boy was talking about! Maybe this won’t be so bad after all… Although, he did say it tests you, or something… I hope I know the right answers.”

With a flick of her wand towards the Waiting Room doors, Erica has them shut behind the final new student entering the hall. As if on silent cue, she also steps away from the hat, giving herself a distance of a few feet from the worn old thing.

(Hufflepuff) Olivia Baxtor gasps a bit, as she hear the hat what it has done three times in her presence already. The hat is singing! This never ceases to shock and fascinate Olivia.

Angelo Grey smiles in awe as the sorting hat sings his song. Letting out a silent chuckle, he seem exhilirating.

Rawnie Weller claps out loud as the Hat’s song comes to a close. “Brilliant! Blood amazing! That shabby ol hat can sing! Thats even better than movin pictuers with frog guts!” She nearly yells almost too loudley.

Kara Raine giggles, dimples appearing as she smiles. “It sings, nice little tune too. Maybe this won’t be as bad as they said, yes?”

Wincing at the loudness of Rawnie’s comment, Aisling stands quietly in the line awaiting further instructions. “I hope so.” she mutters to Kara.

Lyre King shakes his head. “I’m not so sure. A hat that can sing could probably do other things, too!”

Sara O‘Shay listens quietly to the song, and so she remains quiet as she awaits for the sorting to begin.

Kassandra Verkooyen smiles. “I think he cannot be as bad as they said. He sang a splendid song.”

Dolly Faeden watches the hat in awe. “It is a hat, and it can talk.” Her eyes go wider and wider and then turn toward Professor Calwern, not quite taking in the whole row of faculty in their chairs.

Kassandra Verkooyen smoothes out her robe while there still is time to do it. In a few minutes she will be in front of all these more experienced people and she wants to make a good impression, even with that clumsy old hat on her head.

Erica Calwern brushes a gloved hand over her brow before slipping her wand back up her sleeve. Walking back towards the hat, she summons the scroll from her place at the faculty table. Unfurling it, she announces, “It is about time we begin, I believe. Faeden, Dolly!”

Dolly Faeden looks startled when her name is called, as though she had no sense of alphabet. Almost automatically comes, “It’s Fi-jen, actually.” An offhand comment to Professor Calwern that will likely as not fail to sink in until much later. She steps up, picks up the hat and places it gingerly upon her head, trying to sit at the same time. A near miss, but Dee makes it to the stool. And waits.

Rawnie Weller claps for Dolly smileing brightly. She nearly shreiks out “Did it hurt?!?” Well she really wanted to know.

Dolly Faeden turns about four shades of pink and removes the hat unsteadily. She doesn’t meet Professor Calwern’s eye and instead scurries off toward the… wait, which table is she supposed to scurry toward? There’s a pause and she decides the one with cheering people, Merlin willing, will be correct. Eep, Sorted!

Running a finger down her list, the Charms Professor comments on Dolly’s sorting, “Fitting. Let’s see if she corrects me in class.” Erica regards the next name before announcing, “Grey, Angelo!”

Angelo Grey trembles at the mention of his name. He walks towards the dirty old hat, shivering, but making an effort to maintain his pose. As he paces silently, time seems to stretch to him. It’s taking so long… He looks at all the people gazing at him, controling his nerves. He picks up the hat and puts it on his head.

Angelo Grey steps down shivering, but visibly happy. He aproaches the table, looking for a place to sit, making an effort to stay on his legs.

(Hufflepuff) Olivia Baxtor applauds as a student is sorted into Hufflepuff. “Welcome,” Olivia states mildly, her greeting lost in all the cheering that engulfs the table as the hat announces Hufflepuff as the destination.

Angelo Grey steps down shivering, but visibly happy. He aproaches the Hufflepuff table, looking for a place to sit, making an effort to stay on his legs

First Angelo to Hufflepuff then a spat of Gryffindors who all chitter as they make their way to their new House tables. Then, a Slytherin. Each, called and sorted yet Erica‘s voice never tires or wanes as she announces the next name, “Jitsunari, Chris!” She can’t help but glance over at the Ravenclaw table and one Miss Dolly Faedon as another difficult to pronounce name comes up.

(Hufflepuff) “Grey! Welcome!” Eliza Marlowe, a very tall, lanky seventh-year girl, gives the new student an easy wave and a broad smile.

(Hufflepuff) Albert Bryce laughs softly and sits up tall to wave to Angelo. “No eating heads, see?” he calls down the table, winking quickly before he settles down into his chair again.

(Hufflepuff) Angelo Greychuckles as he is welcomed to the hufflepuff table. His nervousnes now fading a little, he watches the rest of eh sorting. “Thanks.” He seems very pleased, indeed!

Erica Calwern doublechecks her scroll and mutters, “I will need glasses if the secretary prints these names any smaller.” Louder, she announces to the room, “King, Lyre!”

Lyre King is the sort that has to be reminded to move. When his name is called, someone has to shove him in the shoulder, as he is staring at the cieling. As soon as he is reminded, he breaks into a jog to make up for any time he lost daydreaming. He picks up the hat, sits down, and places it on his head.

Lyre King hops off the stool, drops the hat on it, and goes to sit with his new housemates.

Erica Calwern watches twins get separate with the slice of the Hat’s opinion. The boy heads off to Slytherin, the girl to Gryffindor. The professor doesn’t miss a beat as she calls out, “Raine, Kara!”

Kara Raine looks up at her name, gray eyes wide in surprise. Taking a deep breath, she steps forward just knowing that all eyes are on her, and in a single graceful motion sits upon the stool while placing the hat upon her head. Wincing slightly, she waits for something to happen.

Kara Raine visibly sighs before grinning broadly, quickly hopping down and rushing over to take her place at the Ravenclaw house table.

A Ravenclaw here, a Slytherin there. The Sorting Hat happily does Erica‘s bidding as she dutifully calls off the name of every new student standing before her. “O’Cormac, Aisling!”

Hearing her name being called aloud startles Aisling O‘Cormac, and she glances around slightly nervously before heading to the provided stool. Picking up the hat, she sits, gingerly placing said hat upon her head.

Gasping from the noise the hat made, Aisling staggers upright and heads, beaming, towards her new house’s table.

Angelo Grey claps loudly as he takes a good look at Aisling. “Hi” he offers the first year.

Hufflepuff, always welcoming to each new student, their numbers swelling. Trailing a glove tip down the scroll, Erica‘s eyes scan name after name. A few Ravenclaws are sorted before she calls out, “O’Leary, Heat!”

Heat O‘Leary finally abandons his vain attempts to completely smooth his hair as he approaches the hat, two stray locks sweeping out from their places behind each of his ears. He had given his all, and for the most part it worked–his hair didn’t look too bad, at least it looked intentional now. The boy glances towards Kassandra and lets a grin pass over his lips–she gets to use it after he does, even if there are a few people in between. He carefully takes the hat and settles on the stool as he places it upon his head. Heat‘s eyes pass between all of the tables while he waits for the sorting announcement.

(Hufflepuff) Aisling O‘Cormac waves to her fellow first year. “Hullo.” she mutters to Angelo, as she settles herself down.

Kassandra Verkooyen leans over to Rawnie, nods to Heat and whispers “The boy with the spittle hair…”

Heat O‘Leary steps down after removing the hat, his face sheet white. He shivers noticeably and wraps his arms about himself before making the trek towards the Slytherin table.

Patsy went to Gryffindor, Orville to Hufflepuff. A nice girl Mary found her way to Gryffindor and an even nicer girl named Sally found her way to Slytherin, following right on Heat’s heels. Erica‘s voice remains strong as she calls out the next name, “O’Shay, Sara!”

Sara O‘Shay quietly steps up to the stool as her name is called. Lifting the hat she sets it on her head, all the while sitting on the stool and crossing her legs all primp and properly. This done Sara casts her gaze out to the crowded, already sorted students, her gaze eventually settling upon her siblings.

Sara O‘Shay offers a bit of a grin as the hat announces her house and stands from the stool and returns the hat to it. That done the young Slytherin girl makes her way towards her house table with little haste. As she sits down Sara offers a bit of a nod towards her siblings. There was, of course, no doubt that shed end up in Slytherin house.

“Imagine that,” the professor muses with a smirk, “an O’Shay in Slytherin. Someday you should surprise us, old hat.” Erica looks back to her list, about half way through from the way she holds the scroll in the middle of its length, “Jitsunari, Chris!”

Chris Jitsunari straightens as he hears his name. The hat obviously couldn’t be that bad, seeing as how none of the other students seemed to be in pain. He looks around and laughs nervously before walking up to the stool and taking a seat and placing the hat on his head.

Chris Jitsunari grins widely at hearing the result, Ravenclaw being his choice house from the moment he first read about Hogwarts. He gets down from the stool and walks to the Ravenclaw table proudly, smiling at the other Ravenclaws .

There is one of those uncomfortable silences as Erica walks up the two steps to her space at the table and takes from it a crystal goblet, filled with a ruby-orange liquor. She takes a sip and her voice seems to come to her with renewed strength as she announces the next student’s name, “Ripple, Rebecca!”

Rebecca Ripple gulps anxiously, and steps up to the hat, wondering how anyone could enchant a hat to think, speak, and even sing. She approaches the stool, sits herself down, and takes a deep breath as she feels the Sorting Hat being lowered onto her head. “What now?” she thinks. She is praying now, that the decision made for her today will be a prudent one.

Rebecca Ripple skips down to the bottom of the steps, giggling with delight. She gleefully sits at the Ravenclaw table…

Erica Calwern strikes quite the pose, liquor in one hand, scroll in the other. Another, longer sip is taken from the goblet as she looks over the list. First the mutter to herself, “How did that name get smudged? Hughe? Hank?” Then realizing that the Hat has shipped off Rebecca to the Ravenclaws, she announces, “Turner, Baldwin!”

Baldwin Turner lowers his head as his name is called, admittedly still quite frightened. Advancing slowly towards the hat, his pace slows as the worried boy gets closer and closer, perhaps without him even realising it. Stopping before Professor Calwern, Baldwin parts his curley hair to look at her directly, “Do I…” Gulp. He surveys the crowd. “Need to… do it… Here?” Biting his tongue, Baldwin seems to accept it is inevitable, sitting down and commenacing visible shakeage.

Baldwin Turner gulps, “I-I-is that a… Is that a good thing?” Hopping from the stool, he lowers his head to avoid eye contact and shuffles hastily towards the table, trying not to make a fool of himself any further.

Erica Calwern is holding the scroll by its very end now and feet upon feet dangle on the floor before her. The line of students near her has shorten considerably while the tables have filled to near bursting with new members, “Verkooyen, Kassandra!” With such precise pronounciation, it is clear she is not allowed to make mistakes when it comes to the children’s names.

A nervous smile rushes across Kassandra Verkooyen‘s face as she approaches the steps, which lead to the stool, with elegant steps. Climbing up the stairs she starts turning the ring on her right hand in excitement. She sits down gently and puts on the vintage hat.

An overwhelming smile gleams on Kassandra Verkooyen‘s face. She stands up gracefully and places the hat back onto the chair. Then she descends towards the Ravenclaw table with blushed cheeks, eased and contented about her destiny, and takes a seat among her housemates.

A quiet boy shuffles his way to Ravenclaw while two louder boys nearly race to Gryffindor upon the Hat’s announcement. Erica can’t help but chuckle at the exuberance before calling out the next name, “Weller, Rawnie!”

When Rawnie is called she runs up to the stool, takes the hat and places it in her head looking a bit comical with the brim covering most of her head. She is simply so excited that she is bounceing on her seat kicking her feet back and forth and twiddling her thumbs. A real “wiggle worm” this one.

Rawnie Weller stands and takes off the hat etting it back onto the stool muttering somthing that sounds a bit like “Starch” to the hat as she runs to take her seat at Gryffindor table.

(Hufflepuff) Albert Bryce randomly adds another short burst of applause before clutching his stomach dramatically. “I’m going to turn inside out soon,” he announces before blowing out his cheeks. ADD spaz.

“Fantastic!” the Charms professor is heard to exclaim softly as hears the Hat’s announcement. Whether it is for Rawnie’s sorting or if her gaze alights upon the final student awaiting their moment of consideration with the Hat. With a certain amount of zeal, Erica calls out, “And finally, Stopps, Warrick!”

Warrick Stopps blinks as his name is called and belatedly stands up a little straighter. Posture, oh, yes, good posture. He clears his throat, and with only another moment of hesitation, he sets his shoulders and marches up the stairs and to the stool. There he takes a sudden seat and puts on the hat like all the others before him.

(Hufflepuff) Baldwin Turner , having been sat down for a few minutes, starts to occupy himself by nervously biting his nails until a point when all this sorting has finished and he can, he assumes, go to sleep.

(Hufflepuff) Frowning, Rafe stares at the sorting hat. Hufflepuff. It had put him in Hufflepuff four years ago. Or was it three? Well this would be the third anniversary. With a sigh he watches as the number of first years at the table increases. “Children,” he mutters.

Erica Calwern looks up from her list and spots Talia still upon the dias. She looks back down at her list, “Stoederman, Smith, Stopps, how could I have?” A long silence and the woman exclaims, “Ah! Caulfield, Talia!”

Primed to the sound of her name, Talia Caulfield hastens forward on short, swift steps with eyes narrowed warily and breath nerve-quickened.

With a flick of her wrist, Erica has the scroll roll itself up and sends it back to her seat at the faculty table. The professor walks to the center of the dias and looks down upon the row after row of children, “So begins another year at our old home and for some of us new. At this time, it is my sincerest pleasure,” and her tone and expression do express that very sentiment, “to introduce all of you to our new Headmistress, Professor Prichard!”

Talia Caulfield raises her head in a sharp jerk, eyes rounding with a brief flash, and removes the hat with nimble fingers, rising and slipping it back on the stool with perfect precision before she moves at a sedate pace to join her new housemates at the Slytherin table.

“Thank you, Erica,” Melvina Prichard notes as she purposefully rises from the faculty table, lifting her cherry-wood wand to her neck and tapping the tip against it deftly. “Sonorus summissus,” she murmurs, giving a certain amount of power to her voice so that she may be heard of the student chattering; happy exchanges and exciting tales of places visited and daring-do over the long separation left by the summer holiday, she was certain. Not to mention the animated greetings of those newly appointed to thier houses.

“Pardon me, everyone,” Melvina calls, her voice filling the hall at a surprisingly comfortable volume. She pauses a moment to allow the hall to calm before tapping her wand again to her throat and restoring her normal speaking voice. One that is quiet pleasant, and fully reflective of the warm smile that graces her lips as she looks out over her young audience. “Welcome, everyone, to Hogwarts term for year nineteen hundred and twenty six! My name is Melvina Prichard and I have had great fortune of being appointed new Headmistress of Hogwarts school. I look forward knowing each of you as time passes. Moving on then, I’ve some beginning of term announcements to make.” Pulling a pair of spectacles from a pocket of her emerald robes and resting them on the bridge of her nose, the Headmistress lifts up a tightly-bound scroll which had she’d not appeared to be holding a moment before.

“The standard boilerplate, of course. Our caretaker has asked me to remind you check the updated list of prohibited items and punishable offenses that have been thoughtfully posted in each of your common rooms–” Drawing in a deep breath, the Headmistress begins to unroll the wound parchment, “Spellwork outside of the classroom, rough play, pranks, hijinxs, dungbombs, Whipple’s Pimple Powder..” Her brow furrows for a moment and the bottom of the scroll slips through her fingers, clattering to the table, spilling over the edge, and rolling across the floor until exhausting itself about half-way across the Great Hall. Her eyes widenning slightly, Melvina sets her end of the very long list down and vanishes it with a flick of her wand. “The list goes on. Be sure to check it.”

After quiet resumes, Melvina takes up a blessedly smaller sheet of parchment. “Hogwarts tradition demands that I remind you the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds to all students; it’s equally tradition that some of you will choose to ignore this reminder.” A rueful chuckle escapes her as she shares a knowing smile with the hall. “Know then that detention is the minimum punishment for entering the Forbidden Forest without a member of staff or faculty along side you, and that such acts will almost always result in a major loss of house points as well.” With small glance around and a pause to clear her throat, Melvina continues. “Naturally, we ask that you respect and defer to your Prefects. Also, I’d like to congratulate our new Head Boy and Head Girl, Martin Foster and Eliza Marlowe. Mister Foster and Miss Marlowe, please stand.” She claps once the two have risen, leading those who care to join her in a modest round of applause, before continuing on.

“Very good, Head Boy, Head Girl. On to faculty. I have the pleasure of introducing several new faculty members to you, and to announce the return of a few others. Heading up our Wizo-Music classes will be international wizo-musician Darius Dwight. Great honor, there. Filling our other vacancies will be, for Astronomy, Mister Avery Fallon, Care of Magical Creatures, Mister Quintus Helit, and last but hardly least, Divination, a one Miss Bonnie Kensington. Also, returning from hiatus, Professors Isolde Morgan and Dante Hayward shall be resuming their posts as masters of Arithmancy and Muggle Studies, respectively. Ravenclaws will note that along with reclaiming her Arithmancy classroom, Professor Morgan is also be resuming her duties as Ravenclaw Head of House. Similarly, Hufflepuffs will be interested to know that Professor Sedgewick has been officially named your Head of House Hufflepuff for the coming year.” Melvina waits one last time for applause before plowing on.

(Hufflepuff) Charlie Linwood claps rather enthusiastically at the announcement of Head Boy and Girl, calling, “Well done, Captain!” in the brief interval of noise between segments of speech.

One large, deep, relieved breath and Melvina finally sets down the parchment and removes her glasses, slipping them back in to the pocket where she found them. “That said, I have only one more thing to mention before we start in on the delicious feast I know you’re all patiently waiting to savor. Seeing that we have so many new faces gracing us this year, in the spirit of celebration and greeting, I’ve decided to hold a small function. A barefoot social. This dance will semi-formal, open to all students of all years, faculty, and staff, and will include music, naturally, and an outdoor feast.” Her smile warms in to something almost sly, however, as she looks out at her young crowd. “But what social would be complete without courtship? So, for fun, I’ve decided to make this dance a bit unusual; our ladies will need ask our gentlemen for the honor of an afternoon’s companionship.” She waits, pleasantly, for the reaction to that before at last finishing up.

(Hufflepuff) Baldwin Turner claps slowly, not entirely sure what most of those announcements mean.

(Hufflepuff) Albert says, “I feel sorry for whomever Kelly ends up asking.”

(Hufflepuff) Aisling O‘Cormac blinks. “She has to be kidding, right? And who’s Kelly?”

“I’d like to form an events council, made up of students from all years, to help me prepare; if you’d like to be on said committee, you may contact me through any of the usual means. Exact details regarding date and time of the barefoot social shall follow shortly. Once your bellies are full and you gossip abated, please follow your Prefects to your respective common rooms, and have a wonderful school year. Let us eat.” And with small nod and a sly, lingering grin, Melvina slips casually back in to her seat.

(Hufflepuff) Olivia Baxtor gasps in horror as the new headmistress makes this announcement about the dance. The girl is shocked to hear this news in the least, but keeps her comments to herself as the woman continues speaking.

(Hufflepuff) Turning to Albert, Aisling once more asks, “Who is this Kelly girl? And what’s wrong with her?”

(Hufflepuff) “Kelly’s an amazing young woman,” Rafe scoffs at Albert. “She’s fascinating, too. Not boring like some. Or stupid like others. She’s neither afraid to speak her mind nor is she too brash to cause continual damage to herself.” He shoots Albert a glare and looks at his food.

(Hufflepuff) Albert Bryce winks at his fellow fourth year, then grins at Aisling. “Don’t let him fool you. She’s not just off her rocker, she’s broken the poor thing.” He reaches over to grab a couple bread rolls and begins slathering butter onto them. “Eliza! Congratulations!” he remembers to add. All in a day’s work.

(Hufflepuff) Aisling O‘Cormac blinks. “Sooooo…. A girl that Rafe likes? She sounds rather extraordinary.”

(Hufflepuff) Baldwin Turner blinks, “Isn’t girls asking boys a bit… bit…” He shudders. “B-b-bit unusual?”

(Hufflepuff) Eyeing Aisling, Rafe just shakes his head, “Don’t amuse yourself by spreading idle gossip. Kelly is fascinating. She’s a muse to me, if you will. A mascot, perhaps.” Just what every girl wants: to be equated to a mascot. “Unusual as it may be, it certainly takes the pressure off. I don’t plan on being asked. Dancing is. . .a complete waste of time.”

(Hufflepuff) Warrick Stopps squints, apperantly thinking. “…A bit,” he eventually agrees with Baldwin, piing up to be heard for the first time. “…A mascot?” Confusion abounds.

(Hufflepuff) Aisling O‘Cormac turns to Baldwin. “I think that was the headmistress’ point, having a Sadie Hawkins’.” she says, and then turns back to Rafe. “How exactly do you plan on avoiding having someone ask you, Rafe? There’s that whole free will thing.”

(Hufflepuff) Charlie Linwood actually lets out a sigh of relief when the mode of asking is announced. “Thanfully I won’t have to go. Good to know–Why, DeWitt,” he latches on to the conversation at long last, “sounds as if you fancy her.” Hopefully certain rumors will not decide to surface. “Although I have to agree. Strange, yes, but Kate is rather interesting and has a good deal more character than some girls.” He blushes, suddenly, and adds, “But she is strange.”

(Hufflepuff) “Well, this is Hogwarts,” Albert answers Baldwin, grinning. Rolls buttered, he adds some potatoes (with butter), roast beef (more butter), and some thick gravy. (Yes, butter.) “And hey, if it means Kelly’s asking you, Rafe, and not one of us, I’m already happier!” Munch.

(Hufflepuff) Baldwin Turner ponders on this, “Why… I mean, uh, why can’t you… or don’t you… Why not just,” His next three words are said very carefully, almost like he could be totally stupid for saying them. “M-magic yourselves better?”

(Hufflepuff) About to begin munching on a buttered roll, Aisling stops, and turns to Charlie. “Did you say Kate? I thought her name was Kelly?”

(Hufflepuff) Casper Hadley disagrees. “I had to go to my cou.. well, I guess I’m barely related to him. I had to go to Ivy Thornwelds brother’s wedding last christmas. The entire event was horrible, but the dancing was the most fun I’d had all year.” The sight of Casper dancing must have been incredibly humorous. “No, you can’t magic yourself better. You have to learn. The best way to do that is to try.”

(Hufflepuff) “Fancy her?” Rafe nearly chokes on his pumpkin juice at the mere notion. “Surely you joke. I fancy no one. You, on the other hand, Charlie, I heard a rather fascinating rumour about you and Kelly. . . although it’s not in my nature to pass news along.” He narrows his eyes and then sideglances Albert, “No one’s asking me. End of story. No, if I avoid all pleasant contact with female students, no one will ask me.”

(Hufflepuff) “Couldn’t have said it better,” Albert agrees with Casper, gesturing emphatically with half a cup of pumpkin juice, which is quickly drained. “That’s easy, Rafe. Just tell the girls you’re going to the dance with Martin Foster.”

(Hufflepuff) Baldwin Turner nods, “Right, right… I’m sorry.”

(Hufflepuff) Aisling O‘Cormac stops a moment. “Isn’t that the name of the Head Boy?” she asks, putting her cutlery to rest on her plate as she looks over the desserts.

(Hufflepuff) Charlie Linwood turns a sort of purply hue and says, “She said call her Kate and she is my friend, and only sort of!” Whether this is true or not, Charlie won’t ever let on. He gets progressively crosser and adds, “I couldn’t ever fancy her, anyway. So don’t so much like you do–” Albert’s comment brings up another blush and he says, “He can’t go with Martin, Martin is another boy.” Methinks the gentleman doth protest too much. A mutter of something indistinct and then, “I’m going to eat now.”

(Hufflepuff) Albert Bryce is trying very, very hard not to laugh. At least… not a lot. And very loudly. Finally, the fourth year on the other side of Al elbows him extremely hard in the ribs. “Ow! Hey, what was,” and there’s another jab in the same spot. “Oh. Hey, sorry, Rafe.” And the overly talkative one is silenced with food. And elbow jabs to the ribs.

(Hufflepuff) “Foster?! Believe me, the girls will swoon over Foster. He and Morris went for something like 36 galleons each at the Slytherin Quidditch Auction. . . which I believe Kelly contributed to? Sorry, Charlie. Her heart goes to a much older man. . .” Rafe scowls at Albert and just shakes his head, “You’re walking on thin ice, Albert. THIN ice.”

(Hufflepuff) Aisling O‘Cormac tilts her head to one side. “Maybe that’s why he thinks you should get in first, Rafe. To beat all the swooning girls to Martin. Although, if the girls have to ask the boys, then a boy couldn’t go with a boy. Because who would do the asking? That’s ever so complicated. Hey Rafe?”

(Hufflepuff) Albert Bryce finishes off the majority of his meal in record time, then butters a couple more rolls before wrapping them in a napkin. “I’m going to head up, I think. See you guys there,” he tells the others. “Sorry, Rafe. I’ll drop it. And 36 Galleons? Those girls have more money than brains, I think.” So much for that.

(Hufflepuff) Charlie Linwood makes a face into his neatly segregated mashed potatos and then looks up, carefully masking his irritation and outburst with humor. “Well, better have a conversation with her about which of you gets to ask him then, shouldn’t you?” The pink tint doesn’t leave his ears and the comment comes out rather strained, but it’s out and no taking it back.

Marie-Anna Greyton quietly stands from Gryffindor table and makes her way across the hall to Slytherin table. Indeed, nothing to out of the ordinary, until she walks up to stand behind the Head Boy and proceeds to give Martin a big hug, despite the fact that he is sitting. “Congratulations on making Head Boy Martin.”

(Hufflepuff) As Marie stands, Rafe smirks, “See, it’s already begun. I’m glad I’m not Head Boy. Or prefect. Or anything.” He returns to his dinner and silences.

(Hufflepuff) Angelo Grey eats away, minding his own business. However, there’s something that’s nagging his mind, and he breaks silence. “What are the duties of a prefect? And a headboy or girl?”

Eva Fallon strides down the stairs into the main part of the shop. “You know, one of these days, I’m going to just have to stay up there, Tommy,” she calls to the man, and sits down onto a chair. She isn’t very pregnant yet, but Eva has always been a bit dramatic. She grins at Tommy as she puts her feet up, reaching to tie the laces carefully and keeps them propped up behind the counter. “Thanks for watching the shop while I napped. I needed it.” She grins at him, leaning back and pinning the rest of her dissheveled curls up atop her head.

“Not a problem,” says Tommy Fallon with a full smile. Standing up and stretching, he laughs and says, “I guess it’s time for my nap, then!” Pretending to head towards the stairs, he stops when he feels his joke has caught. He then turns around to walk over to his wife. Setting both hands on her shoulder, he massages them idly as he looks around the shop. Things were so quiet when the girls were over in the daycare with Avery. Despite loving these peaceful moments, he always did look forward to picking them up; to seeing their beaming faces. He loved his daughters.

Alanna Dragonfire opens the door slowly and with a daughter clinging to each hand, she enters the shop. Having promised them an outing to Diagon Alley after her long work week, the two young girls look excitedly around the shop. “Now, one treat each, that’s all, got it?” and as they scatter, Alanna notices the couple behind the counter for the first time and freezes for a moment, before approaching.

“Hello,” Eva calls, grinning at the two smallish girls. “Welcome to Cordial Confections.” Eva doesn’t even bother to stand, and finishes pulling her hair up into a messy coif. “Make sure you look at everything, because we’ve just debuted some new sweets!” Eva sounds more enthusiastic than she looks, but her excitement level appears to be rising again as the sleep wears off. “Isn’t your sister stopping by today? I hope she comes after we get the kids from Avery, because I’m sure she’d love to see them.” Eva sighs a bit. Her girls are growing so quickly.

Frederick Wexler comes bounding in, Alden on his back. The child looks more frightened than thrilled, and finally, relieved as his uncle deposits him on the ground once again. “Hullo, Eva!” the man calls to his sister, waving as he holds the door open for Basil and and a very prim looking Alice. “Find some sweets you two. My treat.” He grins at Basil as the two wander into the store, not appearing so very excited, but still looking interested at the sweets. Frederick strides over to the counter and holdsh his hand out. “Tommy,” he greets the other man with a nod. Must be nice, just for Eva. Freddie doesn’t have anything against Tommy, but the unfamiliar is always unsettling, especially in his sister’s spouse.

Bursting into the candy shop to he his beloved sister, Gilbert looks around, surprised but delighted to see such a crowd. “Wooow,” he begins boldly. “How come I didn’t get an invitation to this?” he asks Eva, punching her lightly in the arm. “Oops, sorry about that, Eva,” he says. “I should be more delicate with you in your state, right?” he exclaims, pointing to her belly. Turning to Tommy, he slaps him on the back and dives into a Quidditch rant. “Did you see that game the other day? The Pride of Portree sure had nothing to be proud of!” He laughs.

Basil Wexler stops at the door. Lovey, half of his siblings are already here. What brought him this kind of luck? He nods at them all, stepping just into the shop, out of the way of the door so that the customers can mill in and out. His children are milling around the shop, getting near the other children, most of who are younger than them, and sighs. Without Sibyl around, how will he be able to handle their illnesses? Surely they’ll get some sort of cold from the other children, especially nearing the height of winter. The man looks visibly nervous at this thought.

“Kalika probably will drop by,” he answers Eva as he looks to the newcomers to the shop. Shaking Frederick’s hand, Tommy returns the nod. “Hi there, Fred,” he salutes as he takes a step backwards from the audacious Gil Wexler. “Err, I didn’t see the game–” he starts. He only half-listens to the man’s raving about the botched plays and the other game highlights. Seeing Alanna walk into the shop rather takes him by surprise, though. “Alanna!” he calls.

Alanna Dragonfire steps back a little, a bit frazzled at the sudden rush of people, surprised that Tommy acknowlegges her she, she smiles and waves “Tommy, Hi.” brushing a strand of hair from her face, disappointed that she wasn’t able to slip out unnoticed “How’ve you been?”

Having stopped by Avery’s daycare after work (mostly to visit–she *does* enjoy talking), Kalika Fallon has decided to do her older brother a favour by bringing the girls home (particularly since she had intended to visit Mister and Misses Fallon anyways). With a broad smile playing on her lips, the young pads into the candy store–toddlers and baby in a rather large carriage in front of her. “Kah-lee-kah,” she says to the children as she walks through the door. “Auntie Kah-lee-kah. Actually, I’d settle for Auntie. Or Kali.” And then Josie speaks up, triumphantly beaming, “Allie!” Kalika sighs and shrugs her shoulders–it was close, “Very close! It just needs a “k” on the front.” She moistens her lips and examines the crowd. “Business must be good,” she chimes to herself. She pushes the carriage further into the shop towards her big brother. “Tommy! I think these may belong to you . . .” She glances at her neices and step neices and then at Tommy. Who’d have ever thought he’d be a family man? Certainly not Kalika.

“My darlings!” Eva squeals and stands. “Thank you for bringing them, Kalika! And, well, fantastic timing.” Eva chuckles. “That one right there is my brother Freddie, over there is Gilbert, and Basil’s in the back there, being a hermit as usual. That little boy is Alden, he’s Basil’s son, and Alice is over here, she’s his daughter.” Eva grins. “I guess Tommy’s left the baby with Henrietta.” She smiles. “And, I’m getting the idea that Tommy knows this lady over here,” Eva says, gesturing towards where Alanna stands. “Though we’ve just met, sort of.”

Alanna Dragonfire shrugs as Kalika takes his attention and steps back towards the door, bumping into a nervous looking young man that she doesn’t know. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.” she says quietly and takes her place near the door as well, waiting for her little darlings to finish choosing their treats. Knowing them however, she’ll most likely be stuck there for awhile, thinking of this she sighes and frowns. “Hurry up, Girls, we still have to get home and make dinner.” she mentions to them in vain.

Tommy Fallon shakes his head. “I don’t even recognize them,” he says to Kalika in a serious manner. After a second passes, he waves his hand and swoops down on Josie, swinging her up and holding her aloft, over his head. “Is my little girl learning how to say names?” he asks. “Auntie Kalika is a great teacher. She talks much to often,” he says candidly to the toddler as he sets her back in the carriage. He tousles Essie’s hair before picking up Charlotte and walking over to Alanna. “Things have been great,” he says, holding out his daughter. “This is Charlotte, our youngest. Would you like to hold her?”

Alanna Dragonfire shrugs and smiles half-heartedly “Um…sure, I haven’t had one this little in quite sometime.” taking the infant and holding her gently. “Those are my two over there, Diana and Elizabeth” gesturing toward the pretty little girls near the lollipops “They’re 7 and 5.” she says quietly, rocking the baby gently.

“Excuse me,” Basil mumbles and steps aside as Tommy brings the infant over. Basil glances at her, then back at his own children, remembering fondly when his own children were so small. Well, perhaps not so fondly. He does recall not sleeping much. Basil‘s eyes roll a bit as Gilbert starts to wax poetic about the latest Quidditch match. The man seems to recall why he moved so quickly out of Bournemouth, hoping to be away from all of his siblings.

Entering shortly after the newest arrivals, Daniel tugs open the door with one hand while he pins his cloak tightly around him with the other. Crisp November wind gusts through the doorway and with a shudder, the man straightens up to his full height and maneuvers to the side so as not to get in anyone’s way. Plum eyes dart around the shop and he instinctively retracts from anyone who might be too close for comfort. Smiling brightly, he doesn’t greet anyone but rather makes a beeline for one of the counters that hold some of the specialty candies.

“It was my pleasure! Josie almost said my name,” Kalika grins at Eva. Tommy’s comment is met with an eyeroll. “They’re all bloody brilliant! You must be so proud. They’ll be chatting in no time flat. I’m sure of it.” She tucks a lock of her curly hair behind her ear and smoothes her robes. She listens and watches as Eva points to all of her family members. “My goodness! There certainly are a lot of you. An average family reunion in the candy store.” She chuckles lightly. And then Alanna enters Kalika‘s line of vision. “Alanna . . .” what is her last name “. . . Twinkle, is it?” She tilts her head at the woman. “Well you’re all grown up,” the woman states flatly. She crosses her arms over her chest, “And with the quite the brood too.” She presses her lips together in a straight line.

Gerald Rathe pushes through the door, shouldering his powerful frame into the shop. He slows his long strides, taking his stock of the room as he enters among the cases of sweets and the small crowd gathered here. His frown expression is reservedly neutral and relaxed, in the manner befitting a proper English gentleman, but at odds with his colourful wizarding clothing.

Seeing the curly-haired girl come in with Eva’s kids, Gilbert sidles over beside Kalika and nudges her. “You look familiar,” he says with a laugh. “Miss Fallon, did you watch the Quidditch game? There was the most amazing chaser play. I’ll demonstrate,” he says, rifling in his pocket and eventually finding a couple candy wrappers. Folding one into a mangled-looking broomstick and rolling the other into a ball, he sets it atop the ‘broom’ and holds it with one hand. “Say this was a player,” he says, pointing to the garbage in his hand. Making a complicated movement, he traces the path and makes swooshing noises with his mouth. “That’s how.” He finishes. Not able to resist, he chucks the two wrappers in Basil’s direction, aiming for his head. Tilting his head, he looks back to Kalika for her reaction.

“Oh, yeah, Gil! I read about that! My guy reported on that!” Freddie chuckles as he steps closer to his brother. “Did you see that awful catch by the pride, the one that cost them the goal and got them that first penalty?” Frederick chuckles and leans against the edge of the counter. “Are these my little girls?” the man enthusiastically coos and swings Josie up in one arm, pulling Essie up into the other. The girls giggle and squeal as he does so and puts them down on the floor, watching them toddle over to their mother.

“Hello,” Eva greets some of the newcomers into her shop. “Welcome to Cordial Confections!” she tries to call over the din, but the chaos in the room seems to dictate otherwise. She grins and picks up her girls one at a time, allowing them to sit on the edge of the counter. Rather than supplying them with the obvious choice of candy, though, Eva hands each of them a half of an apple, which both instantly begin gnawing on. “Let me know if you need help finding something.” Though this attempt is futile, Eva‘s habits do not stop easily.

Alanna Dragonfire‘s smile fades as she notices Kalika, “It’s Dragonfire actually.” she replies curtly and glares at the younger woman “You haven’t changed much at all from our school days”. Sighing once again at the childishness of Tommy’s sister, she wishes that her children would give her an excuse to leave, however they seem to be facinated by some new sweet product in the corner of the store. “How old is this little one?” she askes, trying to ignore the younger woman.

Gilbert Wexler nearly tears out his hair in agony as Fred recalls the terrible Quidditch catch. “I thought my soul was going to shrivel up and die when I saw that, Fred,” he says excitedly, looking away from Kalika for a second. “My boo-ing voice was hoarse by the end of that game,” he states with a nod, watching Fred pick up the girls. Even though Gil hasn’t the desire right now to hold a squirming baby, he though they were cute enough… he guesses…

Looking back and forth between Kalika and Alanna, Tommy can sense the tension very obviously. The two had fought quite a bit back in Hogwarts. That big spat between he and Alanna in the Great Hall… well, Kalika had gotten involved in that one. He still does smile in remembrance of Kalika’s reaction to Alanna’s insulting the Fallon name. The little girl’s indignant fit was something to marvel at, to be sure. Tommy is jolted back into the present as, somewhere in the room, a little girl shrieks with delight. There sure were a lot of children in here, thinks Tommy Fallon.

Seemingly engrossed in watching his children, Basil does not even see the bits of paper flying at his head, and both hit him in the face, one square in the forehead, and the other on the nose. “You…” he growls softly at the group of his siblings on the other side of the shop. He doesn’t get openly angry as he did when he was in his teens, feeling that he ought to set a good example for his children, but Basil is noticably in annoyed.

Kalika Fallon wrinkles her nose as Gilbert nudges her. But not in annoyed way merely a somewhat puzzled one. A smile spreads over her lips exposing her two rather prominent dimples. “Kalika, please. No one outside of work calls me Miss Fallon. And I mean no one. And no, I can’t say I managed to see the game this time, Mister Wexler–work and all that! Never a dull moment in magical law! Always parchments to read. New cases. But it sounds like I missed a good one!” Her eyes brighten. “I enjoy watching them play! The thrill of the game! The excitement of the chase! The players are all so talented and balanced and quick and–” She stops talking quite abruptly midsentence. She bites her lip and sits in rather awkward silence. A glare is cast towards Alanna and then Kalika‘s attention is redirected to Gil. She stifles a giggle as the bits of paper hit Basil in the head.

Twisting this way and that to get a good look at the display, Daniel lifts his head when he hears the welcome and grins brightly, looking in Eva’s direction even if it isn’t directly at her. “Thank you very much. I’ll be sure to say something when I’ve made my selection.” Unaware of the tensions between some of the members in the shop, the silvery tenor responds with enthusiasm and good will at the welcome. “Quite a crowd here today, it’s good to see a shop doing so well.” Indeed, the young man glances over the patrons and takes note of each if not in an overly studious fashion.

Alanna Dragonfire smiles as her daughters have made their selections. “Well, we ought to be going then” attempting to hand the infant back to Tommy. “It was lovely seeing you again, and your family is really nice.” she says with a bit of an edge to her voice as she tries to make her way towards to counter, through the crowd of people.

“Good to hear, good to hear… Kalika,” says Gilbert reverting to the casual first name-basis rather than ‘Miss Fallon’, which does seem a little awkward at first. However, Gil shows no sign of this, as he doesn’t miss a beat before, “Yes, the players are amazing!” The man nods as he looks toward Basil, pointing openly at him. “That’s got to be worth a hundred points, don’t you think, Basil?” He laughs, so enjoying bothering his eldest brother. Although it was always so easy, it was always rewarding. Really, he brought it upon himself.

Moving among the display cases, and eyeing some the fancier fare there, Gerald eventually passes by the Wexler brothers. Here he pauses, eyeing Gilbert calculatingly for the barest moment, then glances at Kalika, before extending a hand sharply. “Miss Fallon, it’s wonderful to run into you outside of the workplace. And Mr. Wexler, always a pleasure. Out indulging our sweet teeth? Or could there perhaps be business going on even in this refuge of childhood?”

Frederick Wexler stifles a loud laugh as Basil is nailed twice in the face by Gilbert’s toss. “Good one, Gil,” he whispers, trying not to look overly amused by it. After all, he has to actually work with Basil. He glances at Eva’s toddlers, sitting up on the counter and gives them both kisses on their now grubby-appled cheeks. “I’m going to get going, Eva,” he tells his sister and hails a wave at Gilbert, who now appears to be interested in chatting with Tommy’s sister. “I’ll visit again soon. Henrietta and I have plans this evening. We’ll bring Parker next time.” And with that, Freddie is out the door, on his way back to Hogsmeade and his wife and son.

Kalika Fallon stifles yet another giggle as Gilbert claims his wrappers to be worth a hundred points, “Well even if Mister Wexler doesn’t agree, I certainly do, Mister Wexler.” And then Kalika thinks about the sentence and shrugs. As Gerald greets her the young woman turns and offers the man a warm smile, while accepting his hand in an equally warm handshake. “General Rathe. It’s certainly a pleasure to see you here, sir.” She points towards Eva and Tommy’s children. “As far as sugar goes, it doesn’t agree with me. I was just returning my neices to their parents.”

“Are you sure you won’t have some, Kalika?” Eva encourages, wiping the faces of her children absentmindedly, trying to keep her eyes on all the children in the shop at once. After all, little hands get into things without any notice. “Tommy, Charlotte usually goes up for a nap after she gets home. If you’ll bring her here, I’ll take her up. Maura should be back soon, anyway.” The woman smiles and leans against her stool.

“Yes, sir. A pleasure,” Gilbert says, echoing Kalika and nodding. “I frequent this candy shop often,” he explains to Mr. Rathe. “And even though I do enjoy the confections, I am more delighted by sweet young ladies such as Miss… Kalika here,” he says, indicating the young woman by his side. He grins, hoping to flatter Kalika rather than make her feel embarrassed.

As a few of the others leave, Daniel keeps an eye on the slowly thinning crowd. Deciding on something, he pulls out a pad of paper and a muggle lead, writing something down without a care in the world. When he’s finished, the young man picks his way over to Eva, in an attempt to avoid all the children that he possibly can. “Excuse me, ma’am. I don’t mean to interrupt, but I was wondering if you could fill this order for me at your leisure?” The list is extensive and the candies plentiful and rare. “I can pay for it upfront and come pick it up when you have more time?” Waving in the direction of the door with an easy grin, “I have a shop down the way myself and it wouldn’t be a bother.”

Passing Charlotte over to Eva, Tommy nods. “Have a nice sleep, my darling,” he says in an overly sweet manner to his daughter as Eva holds her. Patting Charlotte on the head, Tommy grins and looks over at Gilbert, who is clearly flirting with Kalika. If it was anyone else but Gil, Tommy would go over there and challenge the perpetrator. But Gil, no… he flirted with all the girls; at least, from what Tommy had seen of him. It didn’t mean anything.

“Thank you, Eva, but I shouldn’t. I have enough energy without sugar.” Kalika winces slightly and shrugs. “I do enjoy it though. I just rarely eat it.” The young woman’s cheeks turn a pale crimson as Gilbert compliments her. “Thank you for the compliment, Mister Wexler.” With a sigh she glances towards the door. “I best be off though–so much to do, so little time. I have to finish all of my errands.” She gives a wave to the crowd.

Gerald Rathe smiles indulgently at the two children, a pleasant but distant look passing briefly over his face. “Yes, there’s nothing like children to take us back to the places that we left behind when we grew up.” Here he pauses, and smirks, “Although some of us require grandchildren for that.” Arching an eyebrow at Gilbert, his smirk deepening on his face, he replies, “I’m sure that some people might find your dedication to the power of chocolates a bit improper, Mr. Wexler, although I have to admit that it can be effective.” Here he winks and grins. “Well, let me not interrupt you any longer. I wish both the best of luck, and perhaps I’ll see you at the Ministry.”

“Oh, certainly. You needn’t pay until I gather it all, though. I’ll have it together in…” She looks down the list. “Oh, a couple of days. I’ll be in Friday, is that alright?” She tucks the list down underneath her counter, atop her ledger book. She takes Charlotte in in her arms and smiles at Daniel as she turns to make her way upstairs. “Keep an eye on the girls, will you, Tommy?” Eva calls as she vanishes through the door upstairs.

“A good day to you, sir,” says Gilbert to Gerald with a genial smile. “We could go to a Quidditch game sometime,” he suggests happily. “I think we ought to have more Ministry outings to Quidditch games. Nothing is greater than watching the sport! People relax when they’re out and cheering,” notes Gil. Yawning, he looks about. “I’d best be going,” he says, walking to Tommy and slapping his back again. He also waves to Basil and Daniel, and tips an imaginary hat in Gerald’s direction. “Until next time,” he announces to the door as he walks though it.

A boyishly delighted grin dances on Daniel‘s face and he tilts his head until blonde curls wave over his shoulder. “I can easily wait until Friday madam, my thanks to you.” As Eva disappears, the young man grabs the edge of his cloak and nods to those left before heading back out into the cold weather on foot rather than apparating away.

Basil Wexler watches as the store empties out a bit, and gathers his children. “I’ll… see you all later,” Basil tells them, not sounding very enthusiastic about the idea. “Tommy, please tell Eva that Mum would like her to owl.” The man nods and takes the hands of his children, who both quietly exit the shop, seeming not at all frustrated that they have got no sweets to accompany them.

Gerald Rathe watches Gilbert leave out of the corner of his eye as he continues to peruse the cases. After a few moments, he selects a collection of finer confections, makes his purchases, and leaves with a smile and a nod for Eva.